nod that I’m sure everyone doesn’t notice. “Pip’s ambitions made him dig his own grave, and as a reader, I don’t sympathize with him.”
“Are you saying then that all of Pip’s work to be a better man, was all in vain?” Mrs. Henry questions, her eyes lighting up. “Or are you saying that having hope and wanting love are vain?”
I blink slowly, taken aback by the question.
Love is vain…
For a split second, I can clearly see my mother smiling, then laughing at something my father would have whispered in her ear. The sound was so delightful, the look on their faces making me feel so at home, loved and safe. And in the next, my mother is breaking apart, then vomiting at the same time.
Love is vain…
“Miss Montague?”
I shiver, pain shooting through my chest with an intensity that catches my breath. It’s a kind of pain that I’ve been trying to suppress with everything in me. But, just like everything shitty in life, it still pops up like the pimples on Dante’s face.
“Miss Montague?” Mrs. Henry calls again.
“You’re right Mrs. H, love is indeed vain,” Roxy starts before I can say anything. The beautiful, bombshell blonde is nothing if not cunning and smart, always wants the limelight on her, but right now, she just saved me from answering that question. “Love is a meaningless emotion, felt by meaningless people with nowhere meaningful to go.”
Whoa, that’s cold. Even for me.
So says the girl who breaks hearts left, right, and center. Everything she touches somehow seems to crumble and die, including the heart of a certain boy that transferred schools all because of her—which inevitably made an already lethal rivalry, bloodier than ever before.
But, that’s just rumors.
“That’s quite a cynical view on love, Miss Bishop.” Mrs. Henry shakes her head, looking between the both of us.
“I choose to see it as smart and careful,” Roxy says, blinking slowly, captivating her male audience further. “Love breeds fools and cowards that can’t even see what’s real and what’s not. But lust on the other hand—,”
The guys cheer and the girls giggle at that, imaginations running wild in one clear direction.
“Do you agree, Miss Montague?” Mrs. Henry questions, and again, all eyes turn to me and then to Roxy. All the eager shitheads with nothing else to do, staring, waiting on bated breath for drama to unfold between the popular girls of Clintwood Academy. Roxy shoots me a seemingly cold smile that I know to actually be real.
“Oh, she totally agrees, Mrs. Henry,” Roxy chimes in again, her voice sultry as always. “After all, cold-hearted girls speak the same language.”
Cold-hearted? Is that me?
The bell rings right then, effectively ending the class. I quickly stand up, catching Roxy’s wink as she picks up her Gucci bag (Have I mentioned that she’s doesn’t repeat the same purse in a month? Commitment issues, definitely. Or maybe she’s just filthy rich.). I shake my head then grab my notepad, stuffing it in my purse.
Just four more weeks and it’ll be summer. Junior year will finally be over, and I’ll have more time to nail my routine. But I need to go to the drug store and fill Mom’s various prescriptions and…
“Mia,” Mrs. Henry calls before I can leave. “A word, please.”
I sigh, glancing at the quickly emptying class, then down at my silver wristwatch. “Can we talk about this next week? I really need to go.”
I notice Kristine, my best friend lingering in the hallway, an excited look on her face. Great, she knows what happened in here with Brantley and then with the girl she’s obsessed with, even though she isn’t in my class.
“It won’t take long.”
The last of the students stream out and I walk toward her desk. She takes out an envelope from her desk drawer and flips it over. I notice the seal first and my heart starts pumping even faster. Sweat dots my brow, irritating me even further.
“Mrs. Henry, with all due respect, I told you not to do that.” I make sure to keep my voice low, glancing at the door to make sure Kristine isn’t listening in.
Mrs. Henry’s eyes widen, the smile that was on her face disappearing.
“But Mia, you and I both know that your intellect is wasted in high school. You don’t need the extra year; your GPA is a perfect 4.9. You’re a geni—,””
“Please don’t say that,” I cut her off, not meaning to be so harsh.
“Mia,” she starts, pushing the thick envelope my way. “I know you’re scared,