Colt gives her a slow once-over. “I wasn’t talking to you, sweetheart,” he says. “But since you’re the goblin queen, I guess you’d know a thing or two about frosty little holes.”
“I saidcreepy caves,” she corrects, looking scandalized by his words. “Now get lost, loser.”
He opens his mouth as if to answer, then clamps his jaw shut and just fixes her with his haughty asshole look instead.
“Colt’s my friend,” I interrupt, turning to Lo. “And Royal’s not here anymore. You don’t have to enforce his stupid rules.”
“Aww, look at that, she’s defending me,” Colt says, draping an arm over my shoulder. “I missed you, too, Teeny.”
“Why are you here?” I ask. “Didn’t you graduate?”
“Oh, didn’t our cousin tell you? Since I had to drop out of school after Halloween last year, I get to repeat senior year with all you lovely ladies. Lucky me.”
“I didn’t know,” I say quietly, guilt twisting inside me. “Dixie said were taking classes online.”
“Yeah, it’s a little hard to get shit done when your head’s wrapped like a mummy and you can’t see for three months. Plus, y’know. I lost a bunch of memories and retaining shit’s a little harder than it used to be.”
“So, you’re brain damaged,” Gloria says with a snort. “Too bad they don’t have a short bus at this school. Maybe you should try Faulkner High. I hear they have more… special services.”
“Gloria, shut up,” I say, swallowing hard. “And Colt, I’m so sorry.”
Even more sorry because during those three months, I was happily fucking Royal.
“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “I like playing with fire, too, when it looks like you.”
“Can you just not flirt with me until the DNA test comes back?” I ask, scooting out from under his arm.
“Whatever you say, Teeny,” he drawls, giving Gloria a lazy, two-finger salute before sauntering off down the hall.
I pray like hell she won’t ask what DNA test I’m talking about, because the last thing I want is to be known as the whore who fucked her own cousin.
thirty
Harper Apple
“Oh my god,” squeals a high, sweet voice from behind us. I’ve never been so relieved to see Dixie, but I’m also terrified Gloria’s going to ask about the DNA test in front of the nosiest, gossipiest bitch in school.
“Oh great,” Gloria mutters.
Dixie bustles up, her eyes rounded with surprise. “You’re back!”
I give her a little frown before I realize she’s not looking at me. She takes Gloria’s hand and gives it a squeeze, her smile full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry about your brother. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Dixie,” Gloria says, glancing around at the whispering crowd and squaring her shoulders. She holds her head high, but when I look at her closer, I notice the dark circles under her eyes, maybe even a little puffiness.
“If you need to talk,” Dixie says. “On or off the record. You know you can talk to me.”
“I have to get to my locker,” Gloria says, prying her hand away from Dixie’s and starting down the hall without bothering to say goodbye to me.
“Are your sisters back?” Dixie asks, scurrying after her.
I look around, overwhelmed by all the people staring and whispering, the confusion of the morning, the sensation of having half of every story. I shoulder past the ogling freshmen girls, relieved that at least no one is gaping at my clothes this year. Still, paranoia nags at me.
Were people staring at me, or Royal, or Gloria? Last spring, did the Dolce twins and Dawson tell everyone they ran a train on me, or that the football team did? I mean, it’s a relief to know that the twins are the only ones at this school who really fucked me, since Dawson’s already graduated. I don’t have to walk around wondering which of the football team has been inside me. But what did the rumors say?
Most people wouldn’t even blink if they found out I’d been with the twins. That’s old news. They’ve thought that happened since the first time Royal dragged me to the basement to give him head. The twins fuck everyone, anyway. I’m hardly special. But a rumor that I took the whole team…
I’ve dealt with rumors about my sexual prowess before, and though it seems too cruel to have to endure it twice before I’m out of high school, it’s whatever. It didn’t kill me when Colin Finnegan told everyone at Faulkner that I was a slut freshman year, and it won’t kill me now. If it’s not about that, were there rumors of my death? Or is it just because Royal walked me in this morning?