I couldn't help her observation making me laugh so hard I felt my stomach clench into an abdominal workout and not let go.
She wasn't wrong; it was obvious he wasn't the happy type. Shame, the anti-happy type just happened to be exactly what drew me to him.
I sat up, making eye contact with Kate—the one girl I knew wouldn't lie. Kate was brutally honest and took pride in whatever reaction that got as long as her truth was spoken. “Tell me about Cheyanne?”
Luna’s once carefree face turned instantly worried at just her name.
Damn, who was this girl? Did she strike fear into everyone?
Kate put down her phone with a huff. “She's kind of our friend. She's all types of weird and very intimidating.”
“Okay, but what's her connection to Bolton?”
Luna looked at Kate like she was trying to measure out mentally how honest she'd be.
“They never dated or anything crazy like that, why?”
I swear I saw her eyes actually roll when she said “why.”
Kate was straight out of the movie Clueless, and none of her minded one bit how not politically correct that was anymore.
I hesitated to share how I ran into her. I didn't want them to think I was easy or worse think I actually liked him when I was now dead set on hating him. “I ran into her in the boys’ dorm. She was there to see Bolton. Gotta know the competition, right?”
The girls looked mortified before they locked eyes with each other and burst with laughter. My eyebrows raised and eyes widened, while I tried to pretend to go back to reading, between gasps for air.
Kate touched my leg, still trying to contain her laughter. “Oh, sweetie. Cheyanne isn't competition, and you aren't completely helpless in the looks department. I know Bolton isn't hitting that. I only ever heard about Whitney, and you pretty much took care of that at the party.”
She’s not competition, yet she picked up his hoodie in the middle of the night? Never mind the blow to my ego when he stopped kissing me to respond to her text. I begged the jealousy instead of me to stay a slow simmering burn.
I knew myself. I tipped towards hate instead of hope, and my punishment was emotions like jealousy.
I let my body fall back down into the plush grass and tried to want to study some more. No amount of green tea matcha was going to dig me out of my self-loathing slump today.
Arianna
Today was the first day I wasn't late for history class. Somewhere, my parents were celebrating—one in heaven and the other on some secret retreat, fighting even more secret wars.
I stopped in the hallway to pluck my phone from inside my jacket pocket of the mandatory blazer to text my dad. He hadn't texted me in a week, and more than three days made me hyper aware of the possibility of losing him.
Me: Text me when you can. Ignoring the three day rule? Punishable by death—by me, not terrorists.
I waited a few moments in case the even more anxiety triggering dots appeared. My head dropped, and I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
“Arianna. Late. Again.”
I looked up at the clock and couldn't even argue; I was late by two minutes. Dr. Alba was no joke in his old school glory.
He was anti-talking and anti-phones, but I enjoyed his class the most. He didn't speak at us, and he wasn't so hands-off that it felt like a pointless study hall, like I was used to.
I sat down in the only seat available, next to Bolton.
No one dared to sit next to him in the back. Half the time he used the other desks to prop up his own feet.
Thank god this was the only class I had with him.
“Now that everyone is here, we can get started. Halloween is coming up. Does anyone know the dark history of Arcadia?”
I perked up in my seat interested. Nyx and Bolton were whispering like they typically did instead of listening.
It looked like gloating most of the time. Sometimes I’d hear Nyx say Luna, but rarely.
“Nyx, what's the history of Arcadia?”
He twisted back around to face the front of the class and made a lazy attempt to make eye contact with Alba.
I wasn't a suck up, but I couldn't afford to not pay attention in class either. I actually had to study, while guys like these ones simply showed up and the rest worked itself out.
“It's rumored Arcadia is on sacred ground. Witches used to summon the gods, and this was their doorway into the mortal world. But we know that's all bullshit, right, Alba? Fairytales.”
Alba snaked through the aisle of desks, scanning the room for his neck victim. “Why does it have to be a fairytale? Our library has books from the covens, ledgers, all the proof one wants.”
Bolton spoke out of turn, and it made Alba spin towards him on his heel.
“Proof? The Bible isn't even proof that Jesus walked the earth, and you want us to believe this school is special because of some fucked up folklore?”
Alba waved a finger in the air towards him. “The best things are the ones we can't prove, Mr. Cadoc.”
Leo and his boyfriend, Beau, sat on the opposite side of the room, and both giggled to themselves, until a harsh glance from Dr. Alba made them spit it out.
Leo, sounding completely factual, said, “Bolton doesn't believe in anything. Proof or not.”
I looked down at my unopened notebook and wondered why the campus was so big and why half the buildings were closed or off limits. I even wondered for a moment about why we weren't allowed off campus on the weekends or why we never had away games.
It was starting to feel like a sentence, and none of us knew what we were being punished for.
I hadn't realized how caged I felt until I was forced to look at Arcadia more critically.
Austin raised his hand and even waited to be called on before talking. “It's said that a wealthy family, considered royalty, lived here in the 1600’s.”
Dr. Alba nodded, like he was learning something too. “Yes, Austin, good. The Arcadia compound is known for its roots in royalty. Just as any balance would have it, the campus is also known for magic. Since there are so many theories on the history of the campus, let's make this your homework.”
The chalk scratched across the blackboard as he outlined the homework I now had from this class too. I was slowly drowning in homework, upcoming tests, and catching up on the material everyone else already seemed to know.
No one even cracked a book or notebook in class. I was out of my league here.
For the rest of the class, I zoned out, until Bolton hit me with a balled up piece of paper, purely for effect, because he spoke in a hushed tone instead of writing anything down.
“Why did you run out of my room like it was on fire?”
His question tempted my new hatred of him to skip from simmering straight to boiling.
“I told you I don't kiss and share. Kind of awkward when girl number two shows up before you're done with girl one.”
He sat back from leaning over his desk’s edge just to get my attention. His wicked smirk was kerosene on my anger, all cruel and relentless.
I threw the small crumpled up paper back at him before he sat up again.
“Cheyanne? That Cheyanne?” He pointed two desks away at the twisted soul I now called “bitch” in my head, sitting next to her twin brother, who couldn't be more opposite.
He was bright, fresh faced, blonde, and had bright blue eyes that resembled sea foam instead of a true blue. It was hard to hate someone who seemed so approachable.