Lili St Crow - Betrayals

“Hey, dogboy!” A yell from a passing djamphir , one of Irving’s friends, a slim dark-haired kid in a red shirt and jeans, slouching past with that eerie gracefulness. “Put your dish on the floor!” He sneered a little as he passed, elegantly.

Dibs hunched up even further, and the ball of acid inside my chest boiled up as if something had been dropped in it. I slid my chair back, my legs tensing, but Dibs’ hand came down on my wrist with surprising strength.

“Just let it go,” he whispered under the crowd noise. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does.” I tried to pull my hand away. “It means something.”

A ripple ran through the caf. I turned my head, keeping the djamphir in sight. He dropped down at Irving’s table, one of the prime spots of cafeteria real estate, and laughed. His friends were laughing too. My braid bumped my back as I tried to pull away from Dibs again.

Mark. Memory served up the djamphir ’s name just as my free hand curled into a fist. I’m pretty sure his name is Mark. He even looks like a Mark. Go figure.

“Wow. You really do care.” He laughed, a shaky little sound. “Just let it roll off. I’m not upset, see? You’ll just make trouble if you say anything. Keep your head down.”

The tension simmered down a notch, but it didn’t leave me. My shoulders were a rigid bar under my T-shirt and hoodie, and I’d lost every ounce of appetite I’d had.

“You don’t argue with them.” He let go of me, finger by finger. “Not over a wulf. They won’t make it hard for you, get it? They’ll make it hard for me. But don’t worry, the doms will take care of it. Sooner or later. They always do.”

“Jesus.” I let out a long, shaky breath. It had bothered me before, the dismissive way Christophe treated Graves; as if he was somehow tainted. Somehow less. It bothered me here, too, the djamphir were the top of the food chain.

I’d thought things would be different somehow. I’d thought the Real World didn’t play petty bullshit high school games. But here, it was just the same old thing. It was depressing. Could you ever get away from it?

But picking a fight the day I’d decided to turn over a new leaf wasn’t a good idea. I should start this out right.

Dibs was watching me anxiously, a vertical line between his golden eyebrows as they wrinkled together. He looked like a retriever I’d seen once, a sweet dog that lived in a trailer park outside Pensa cola. The way he tilted his head and chewed at the same time reinforced the impression.

Scratch behind his ears, who’s a good boy? I swallowed hard, disgusted at the thought. I wasn’t like them, the dismissive, pretty djamphir boys. I’d always been an outsider.

I stabbed at my pancakes like I was stabbing at the face of stupidity. “Do they all act that way? The djamphir?”

“Yeah. I mean, except you. Graves said you were different. He said you—”

“Hey, Dru.” Graves yanked out the chair on my other side and dropped into it. He smelled like cold air and cigarette smoke, his long black coat still carrying a chill from outside. A bloom of red up high on his cheekbones did good things for him, and his earring glittered. His eyes were sparkling, too. “Dibs. Nice to see you, man.”

Dibs shut up so fast I was surprised he didn’t lose a chunk of his tongue. He busied himself with tearing at the steak and chewing, with a guilty hangdog look.

“So you’re a dom, huh? Nice.” I stabbed my pancakes again. “Kinky.”

“You’re the one who ties people up, babe.” Graves’ gaze flicked past me, touched Dibs, and returned. “What happened?”

Dibs shrugged, took another mouthful.

My tone was hard and dismissive. “Some djamphir asshole just catcalling, that’s all.” Stab, stab, the fork hit the plate hard. “I’m about due for class.”

“I’ll walk you, we’ve got first period together. Glad you decided to show up.” He looked smug.

Insufferably smug. His smile was a wide V, so big a dimple came out on his left cheek. He wasn’t so baby-faced anymore, and was that dark stubble spreading up from his chin? His hair was starred with little beads of moisture, it must have been raining outside.

Yeah. He got to go outside and smoke, and then come back in and—

Jesus. I grabbed the edge of the table with both hands. The fork mashed itself against fake wood.

My teeth gritted together so hard my jaw ached. I’d been mad before, plenty of times. Kid-mad. This was a new feeling, and it swallowed me whole. I actually saw little sparkles of red around the corners of my field of vision, and my arm ached with the need to punch that fucking smile right off his face. Arm? No, my whole body vibrated with the urge.

“Uh-oh.” Dibs’ chair scraped as he pushed back. “Graves? She smells red.”

I shook. The wave of trembling passed through me. What the hell was I thinking? It was Graves.

He was pretty much my only friend here. Was I really going to go ballistic on him? Over what?

“She’s fine.” Graves just looked at me. His face didn’t seem nearly as smug now. Just thoughtful, and familiar. “She gets a little antsy sometimes, but she’s okay. Right, Dru?”

And just like that, the rage evaporated, leaving only the sour little red-hot bubble in my chest. I found my voice. “Right. Antsy.” Where did that come from? What was that? “Jesus.” It came out sounding breathy and exhausted.

The cafeteria was curiously hushed. Tension ran under the surface of that quiet before my ears popped and I relaxed a little bit more.

“You’re wound pretty tight,” was all Graves said. “Hey, you should eat something other than that. Want some bacon?”

Christophe visited me. I have to talk to you. The words died on my lips. Dibs crunched down on something next to me. It sounded like bone, and my stomach did a funny sideways jigging movement.

“I, um, I’ll just stick with toast.” To prove it, I picked up a half-slice of sourdough covered in butter.

It was cold, but I put it in my mouth and bit down. My teeth were tingling. It was a weird feeling, like they were waking up from novocaine. I mean, I’ve never had a cavity, but I can imagine.

Graves nodded. A shadow of relief slid through his green eyes. “’Kay. Hey, we’re going out for burgers again after classes. Want me to bring you some?”

No. It’ll be cold when you get here. I don’t want any grease, thanks. “Maybe a milkshake one of these days. I haven’t had a milkshake in a while.”

Not since he’d handed me one in a mall food court and asked me what was wrong. The memory pushed through my head, tinted with panic, and I let out another shaky sigh.

“You got it. If you’re still awake when I get in.” His hair fell over his face as he nodded, the dead-black strings looking normal on him. His skin had cleared up, the caramel coloring nice and even. “Sure you don’t want any bacon?”

Yeah, if I’m still awake when you condescend to come back? No thanks. I took another hurried bite of toast as Dibs cracked down on another bone and made a happy, humming little sound. I suppose I should have been ready for that. It was one thing to feel lonely because nobody would sit with you. It was another thing entirely to have a wulf chowing down right next door. “Nah, I’m good. Really.” I made the words come out through a mouthful of cold soggy toast and congealed butter, and told myself I’d better start eating my food while it was hot.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell him about Christophe at all. I mulled over this until the bell for first period rang, and was still mulling over it hours later when I fell asleep in the gray light of predawn. Graves didn’t show up with that shake. But it wasn’t like I was expecting him to, either.