of evil. Maybe the trait comes from the roots of the family tree. It’s part of his DNA, as unchangeable as the sun crossing the sky. There’s something off about Evan’s dad. I noticed it right away. Kyle and Evan’s dad were brothers. I wonder how they were raised.
Except Kyle, I think, and sigh. He seems really good.
I whip my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and apply lip-gloss, hoping the sheen will mask some of the puffiness. It doesn’t, but it’s the best I can do. My goal is to get through this week. Finish all of my assignments, or as many as possible.
Four more days. Then my aunt and uncle will come and get me, and I can talk to them about Evan. Tell them the threats he made and the things he said about my mom and dad. I hope my aunt and uncle will tell me the truth. Then I remember I invited Gina to stay with us. If she comes, a family discussion might be tricky.
Four more days, I tell myself, and head to class.
In English, Ms. Spears gives me a knowing sneer. I want to rip her lips off. Gina notices and raises an eyebrow.
“What’s up with Bitchy Spears?” Gina winks. I shake my head as though I have no idea.
But I do have an idea. She’s rubbing it in my face that her and Kyle slept together, and I don’t like it. As if on cue, Kyle stands. He’s passing back our assignment from last week. What if my grade sucks? I think back on what I wrote and cringe.
Bitchy Spears speaks. “Mr. Hadley is passing out the information for your final paper. This is the only copy you’ll receive, so keep it safe. The final will be a third of your grade, so made it great. Wow me, people.” She proceeds to spend the next hour discussing the different thematic elements in some movie I’ve never heard of. All I want to do is fall asleep. But I don’t. I stay awake and focus. Until my phone vibrates against my leg. For once I’m grateful for stadium seating, and for being in the back row. I casually hide behind Troy, the tall guy with the basketball, the one who ran me over the first day of school. He’s on scholarship for the basketball team, and it’s obvious he’s into the sport. He seems nice. Hails from Las Vegas.
I check my cell. The text is from Kyle
Glad to see you’re okay. Want to talk?
I do want to talk to him, more than anything, but I can’t. Not with Evan lurking about. He said he would hurt my aunt and uncle, and after the way he pushed me around last night, I’m inclined to believe him.
I text back. I’m fine.
You say that, but I don’t believe you. Besides, it isn’t nice to lie to the guy you love.
I’m shocked. Why would he say that?
What? I text.
Yeah, don’t deny it. You love me, and you want me. Accept it, Freckles.
I-I?????? I remember saying the words to him. I realize they’re true. So true. Damn Gina and her stupid pain pills.
I look over at her and frown. She lifts her shoulders. “What?” she mouths.
I shake my head.
My phone vibrates. I’m watching you, Pudgy.
I gasp. I know exactly who sent me the text, and it sure as hell wasn’t Kyle. The screen says Blocked. Trying to be casual I glance around the room, but I don’t see him.
Kyle texts me. Please practice with me tonight. It’s important. Then he types a semi-colon with a parenthesis—a winking face.
A smile lifts my cheeks. As soon as I notice, I stop. Quickly type back: Okay.
Bitchy Spears is winding down. I think she’s almost finished talking when she asks a question. “What distinguishing tendencies did most early twentieth century writers have?” She scans the room. Several hands go up. Lots of students with opinions. I’m guessing that’s good. I don’t want to answer, so of course, she calls on me. “Miss Martin. Please enlighten the class.”
I sit up straight. Clasp my hands in my lap. “Um…” I pause, and Bitchy Spears interrupts.
“Obviously she’ll get an A on the final.”
The class laughs.
I shrink down in my seat. There’s plenty I could’ve said: stuff about Modernists, Realists, and even Naturalists.
My phone vibrates. I hate this class. It’s Toxic. She Drives Me Crazy.
I cover my mouth to keep from snorting.
Agreed.
The rest of the day is hard, but uneventful. I talked to all of