Cruel and gorgeous. Now that’s a dangerous concoction.
I drift off to sleep with them on my mind, and my dreams are filled with tiny, naked men with tiny, gleaming muscles.
Chapter Ten
I’ve found the pattern.
I realize it weeks after Waldman’s party on a Tuesday—the day before this year’s Halloween—during survival class, when I come back to the forged passport I’d been painstakingly working on for days to find it face-down on my desk.
I turn it over to look at all the predictably smudged ink, then glance up just in time to see the sleeve of Bennett’s coat as he whisks out of the classroom. I think to yesterday, when I was supposed to be crouched low to the ground in PW, and Owen shot me with a blunt practice dart while Professor Davies’s back was turned. It hit me square between the shoulder blades and leaving a nasty bruise.
There was a moment there, at the very beginning, that I thought they’d grown tired of tormenting me. I was wrong, however.
They just get tired.
By the end of the week, usually by Thursday afternoon, Piers, Owen, and Bennett have exhausted their supply of trickery for the week and generally leave me alone. At least, until come Monday again. Everything returns in full force after the weekend, when they’ve had time to rest.
Seriously, they’re like a bunch of well-dressed toddlers vying to prove something no one actually wants them to prove.
The numbers on the wall have barely budged since the start of year. Piers and I are currently neck and neck for the bottom four, with our scores creeping ever close to the rest of the pack every day. There’s still no real way of telling how things will pan out. It’s still way too early.
I pick up the ruined passport off my desk. I don’t have time to make a new one, not after I spent the last week peering through a cracked microscope using a brush with literally two bristles to finalize the perfect details. With a sigh, I resign myself to my fate and walk up to Professor Helsing, who takes it with a grunt.
“Should’ve used laser printing instead of ink. No waiting for it to dry.”
“I wanted it to look more legitimate—”
“And you’ve sacrificed time. And look; one mistake, and the whole thing’s ruined. All that work down the drain.” He writes my grade down in his book. “Don’t forget—if people can’t see a troll standing right in front of them, they aren’t going to notice you’re using a fake passport. Get going, Black.”
I nod and leave.
In all these weeks, Piers and his boys have somehow kept their antics mostly under the radar. I think Professor Helsing is aware of what’s going on, but it’s not in his character to swoop in as some kind of rescuer. This is not the kind of place for coddling. No hand-holding. No intervention. This is my battle, and I shouldn’t expect anyone to fight it but me.
Speaking of … Bennett is still up ahead of me in the hallway, walking alone. This is a rare opportunity.
I walk faster to catch up to him. “Hey, Bennett!”
He turns and actually stops to wait for me to catch up. I forget just how big he is until I’m close to him; he’s a good foot taller than I am and at least twice as wide. His muscles have gotten more defined since we first met. If he wasn’t so goddamn human, I’d still swear he’s secretly a bear.
It isn’t until he’s staring at me that I realize I actually have nothing to say. So, I just stare back.
Eventually, his gaze shifts. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and then turns and walks off, leaving me mystified. Did Bennett just … apologize? That’s a first. And also, about the last thing I expected him to do.
“Avery, wait up!”
I turn. Erin and Sawyer are emerging from the classroom after us. Poor Sawyer is covered in ink. My passport may have been smudged, but it looks like his exploded. Erin, on the other hand, looks pleased with herself. I’ve known her for a while now, and I know that she’s done hers perfectly.
“Professor Helsing said I got full marks,” Erin says happily as she catches up to me. She’s looking a little less frail these days. We might be up in the mountains of eastern Europe, but all this time out in the sun has left a warm glow in her cheeks. She’s even got some muscle definition starting to form on her calves.
“Wanna hug?” Sawyer asks with a grin, opening his arms. His fingertips are completely black, with spots of ink flecked all the way up to his elbows.
“I’ll pass,” I say.
His grin widens. “Aw, c’mon, Avery!
Don’t you just want a little—SQUEEZE?” As he says the last word, he grabs me and does just that until I laugh and twist in his arms.
“Sawyer, let go!” His fingertips are leaving black marks on my clothes, and my face is warm, but I can’t stop laughing. Erin’s laughing too, so I must look ridiculous.