She bites her lips for a moment, then releases a breath and squeezes her eyes shut. “You know it’s going to be … worse than before, right?”
I shift my gaze toward the window, catching a glimpse of the pristine campus below.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I know.”
“Everyone thinks you started that fire.”
I look back at her to find that she’s staring at me again. “Do you?”
She doesn’t hesitate with her answer. “Of course I don’t. What a fucking silly thing to ask me. Henry doesn’t either, for what it’s worth.”
I smile at the affront in her tone. “Sorry.”
Her expression relaxing, she shrugs. “It’s fine, I suppose. You can be forgiven the occasional slip up under the circumstances.”
“I appreciate that, you have no—” Suddenly, I realize that something is missing, and my forehead creases. “Hey, where’s Dorito?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, her long lashes fluttering against her cheek. “The bitch strikes again.” There’s no doubt in my mind she’s talking about Laurel, the stepsister from the bowels of hell, and sure enough she adds, “When she wasn’t bitching and moaning about you over Christmas break, she was crying about the cat. He’s with my dad.”
Jesus, Laurel is the worst. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“It’s okay, I’ll see him during break and this summer and then I’ll get to take him to college next fall, so there’s that. I’m just glad you’re here.”
Yeah, well I’m even happier that she’s here. That she’s not mad at me, and that we’re still friends. I know I’m going to need her more than ever over the next few months. I’m back in enemy territory, but Loni and Henry always made me feel like I wasn’t on the outside looking in.
There is one other thing I take comfort in, though, as I consider what’s awaiting me tomorrow when classes begin. When I left this place, Saint and Laurel had shown all their cards. They blew up my life and laid out my dirty past for all to see. No doubt, this semester will be awful and miserable, but the silver lining?
They’ve made it so that I have nothing left to lose.
I’m returning to this war recharged and determined, and they’ve already dropped their nuclear bomb. But I survived it, and I’ll survive them.
They won’t see me coming.
And I can’t wait to see the looks of surprise on their stupid, beautiful faces.
“Should’ve stayed away, you dumb cunt.”
“Nobody wants you here.”
“Fucking murderer. Saydi was an angel!”
I do my best to ignore the stinging words that are thrown my way pretty much the moment I step out of my dorm for dinner that evening. I expected this, so I should be more prepared, but I’ve forgotten just how much the public humiliation and hate scorches my gut.
“Just ignore them,” Loni murmurs. Ever the loyal friend, she’d texted earlier, insisting on walking with me from the dorm to the D-hall.
We make our way across campus, dodging vicious words and blatant threats as best we can. When we reach the entrance of the dining hall, and I stumble upon a makeshift memorial of flowers and stuffed animals and photos of the three students that died in the fire, I have to take a moment to collect myself and gather my nerves before we can go inside.
Loni takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before we walk through the doors. “Fuck these people. If Aldridge thought you did it—really did it—you wouldn’t be here.”
Yeah, well he also wasn’t prepared for Hurricane Carley. Once I convinced her to let me come back, she’d gone to bat for me so hard, Headmaster Aldridge’s head is probably still spinning.
Shooting my friend a shaky smile, I give a brief nod and step into the D-hall.
At first, no one seems to notice us, but I know that won’t last, and I’m right. As we make our way through the tables, all eyes begin to turn our way and an eerie hush falls over the crowded room. People looked shocked, a few outright angry. I hold my head high and keep my gaze locked ahead of me.
It’s not until I get closer to Saint’s usual table that my determination wavers, and I can’t help to sneak one quick glance toward it. I must be a glutton for punishment, but I tell myself he’s likely off fucking Laurel into oblivion somewhere or making his second or third horcrux.
I nearly trip over my own feet when our eyes lock from across the room.
He’s staring at me with such a look of shock, I don’t know how to decipher it completely. Gabe and Liam are sitting with him, and both of them look as equally stunned to see me, but Liam’s expression morphs into pride in a flash. It’s clear he’s pleased that I took his advice and came back.
Saint, however, looks far from happy.
In fact, he looks like he could use his rage to bring this entire campus crumbling down.
When he shoots to his feet, my heart seems to go still, and I come to a full stop.
Loni frowns down at me, then looks to see what I’m staring at. Her brown eyes burst wide, and she turns back to me, placing her body between me and Saint, who’s storming our way.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” she frantically whispers. “Just say the word, and I’ll make him disappear.”
As much as I appreciate the offer, I shake my head. “No, this was going to happen eventually. Might as well get it done and over with now. I’m not scared of him, Loni.”
That’s probably my problem. I’ve underestimated Saint-Fucking-Angelle from the very beginning.
She appears reluctant to agree, but after a long pause, she steps aside. Saint reaches us the next second, his hand going for my shoulder.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I level him with an icy glare. “Break’s over and the new semester starts tomorrow. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?”
His jaw is taut and his gaze wild, but then in the blink of an eye he grows cold, his expression void of emotion as he stands upright and drops his fingers from my shoulder. I try to ignore the way my skin suddenly feels colder beneath my t-shirt.
“You’re a goddamn idiot,” he says in a voice dripping with ice.
“A masochist,” I agree.
He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but he’s interrupted when a tall, leggy girl with bright red hair, big boobs, and a green Birkin dangling off her pale wrist comes bounding up to his side.
“Oh! What’s this?” she asks in a sweet voice.
When she links her fingers with his, I feel my posture wilt.
“Nothing,” he tells her through his teeth, his blue-gray gaze still searing into me. “This is nothing.”
His meaning is 100 percent clear: Mallory Ellis is nothing.
That hurts more than I care to admit, and my stomach seems to devour my heart as the redhead turns to me and drags me with a slow, evaluating stare that’s not cruel but not necessarily friendly either.
“You must be Mallory,” she drawls, then tilts her head to one side. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Rosalind Bianca.”
I start to ask if that’s a first and middle name combination, or if her name is really that fucking perfect, but I bite my tongue and can only stare at her for too long of a moment. Who the hell is she because I sure as hell haven’t seen her on campus before? Why does she look so cozy snuggled up into Saint’s side? Why isn’t he telling her to fuck off like he does the other girls?