“Do you like him, though?” Dottie asked, searching my face.
“I don’t know him well enough to like him,” I replied.
“Well, do you think he’s cute?”
I took a massive bite of my sandwich to avoid answering her.
“Paige, tell me.” Dottie gave me her best no-nonsense look. “I am older than you are, by tons of decades. Respect your elders!”
I chuckled at her comment as I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and scratched at my roots.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, my shoulders sagging as I leaned against the chilly window. “Am I attracted to Logan? Honestly, who wouldn’t be? He’s really cute. But it ends there. It has to.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“Yes, it does. He’s a nice guy who talks to me about assignments and begs for pens when he’s missing one. That’s all it is. Please, don’t try to talk me into thinking it’s more,” I pleaded with her. “I’m the weird girl. And no one wants to date the weird girl, Dottie,” I repeated, brushing the crumbs off my plaid skirt. “And to be honest, I don’t blame them. People have enough problems—why would someone want to take that on?”
“Paige, don’t be like that! You’re not weird! You’re funny, and sweet, and loyal—”
“So says the best friend that no one can see or hear.”
“But you’re also smart, and pretty. Even though I don’t quite understand your choices in makeup and hairdos sometimes.”
I snorted at that. Dottie’s shellacked hair wouldn’t move in a hurricane.
“Look, I appreciate the support—really, I do,” I said, leaning against the window, then recoiling back when the condensation seeped through my shirt. “And I don’t mind being the school’s resident weirdo. It’s not your fault, and let’s be honest, it probably would have happened anyway. I’d have talked to a ghost on a class trip or at a party, and it would all have been downhill one way or another. But it means I have to be a little self-protective, Dots. I can’t start crushing on a guy when there’s no hope. I can’t set myself up for disappointment like that.”
Dottie set her petal-pink lips in a frown.
“You can at least flirt,” she bargained.
I tried not to snort in reply. My best friend, the eternal romantic, stuck with me, the cynic.
“I wish you’d flirt. At least for practice,” Dottie murmured. But all the fight was out of her voice, and I exhaled, relieved that this conversation seemed to be over. “He seems kind of shy but I swear I’ve caught him looking at you in class. And I thought he was so sweet to you....”
Dottie’s voice trailed off and got weaker—as did her appearance. I could see the door to the bathroom appear through her as she became more translucent.
“Dottie?” I called. What if she was right—that her connection to this side was weakening? I saw her mouth my name, and then she disappeared, fading out of sight right as the bathroom door swung open.
The new girl Blaise barged into the bathroom, her long legs making her stride swift and graceful. She crossed the room quickly and stood a few feet from me before folding her arms and running her dark eyes up and down until they settled coldly on my face. I stopped drumming my heels and returned her stare. I was already in a bit of a foul mood, so I didn’t have much trouble matching Blaise’s scornful attitude.
“Can I help you?” I asked, mimicking her condescending expression.
Blaise snorted, a disdainful look crossing her face.
“This shouldn’t take long. Pity,” she sniffed. “I was hoping you’d put up a fight, but you’re not much, are you? You’re kind of pathetic.”
I was used to insults and nasty nicknames whispered in the halls, but I’d managed to avoid bullying of the physical kind so far. Well, guess that streak is over . I slid off the radiator and raised my chin, meeting her arrogant gaze.
“I’m pathetic? And you just scream ‘thug life,’ right?” I drawled, doing my best to sound bored as I stretched out my arms and pretended to yawn, even though my heart began to pound. “I’m, like, so totally scared of you, like, oh, my God,” I said in my best sarcastic valley-girl accent.
“You will be,” she vowed, the corner of her mouth pulling into a half smirk.
“Bring it,” I challenged her, mentally taking an inventory of the bathroom for something that could be used as a weapon. I had a feeling the rolls of toilet paper stacked in the corner wouldn’t be of much use, unless I wanted to blot her to death. I hadn’t been in a real fistfight since fourth grade, and that had been over pretty quickly; I’d stood up to a fifth-grade boy who’d been harassing one of my friends, and come home with a black eye. You could say it was a pretty one-sided fight.
My eye twitched at the memory, but I squared my shoulders as I glared back at Blaise. She smiled, her lips tightening into thin red lines as her grin stretched unnaturally wide across her face, baring more sharp teeth than anyone should have.
More teeth than any human should have.
Her menacing grin continued to expand, pulling past the corners of her eyes—eyes which opened wider, bulging out until they were massive dark orbs, glittering like black coal speckled with diamonds. She flicked a black tongue between her crimson lips, and I began sweating—and not just out of terror. It was hot in the bathroom, far too hot for late January. My shirt began to stick to my back as Blaise rushed toward me, arms outstretched, a fierce rumble emanating from her chest.
I scrambled backward, stumbling against the radiator as Blaise slapped her palms against the window on either side of my head, condensation escaping as a small hiss and puff of steam from between her fingers. She tilted her head and gazed at me with those large dark eyes, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back.
“I can smell your fear,” she purred, running her nose along my neck as she inhaled deeply. “It smells like sour cherries. Delicious.”
I swung my right fist up, aiming for her exposed neck, but Blaise caught my wrist with her free hand, jerking my arm sideways at an unnatural angle. I cried out in pain, her touch burning my skin as she bent my arm farther, forcing me to my knees.
“What do you want?” I choked out, clawing at her skin as I tried to pry her fiery grip off my arm. Charcoal plumes of smoke wafted from where my fingernails sank into her skin, and Blaise whined in pain, rows of razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dull fluorescent light. She released me from her tight hold, and I scrambled away from her, cradling my sore wrist.
“Well, I want to watch you burn, but I’ve been told I have to take you alive,” she pouted, rubbing the dark crescent-shaped marks I’d left in her skin.
The bathroom door pushed open, and Blaise’s features snapped back into place, her mouth shrinking to a small frown as three freshmen walked in. The trio gave us both suspicious looks as I cowered in the corner. One took up residence at the sink, vigorously brushing her hair and casting wary looks at us through the mirror as the others hurried to the toilets, chattering loudly to be heard over the divider between the stalls.
“An audience is inconvenient, so we’ll resume this later. I’ll find you,” Blaise promised with a low hiss. They had resumed a normal shape, but her pupils still glittered as she stared at me, challenging me with those narrowed inhuman eyes. She turned on her heel and strode gracefully out of the bathroom, and the freshman at the sink reflexively flinched as Blaise passed by her. I slumped on top of the barely warm radiator, which felt cold against my overheated skin. The chill seeping in through the window was a welcome relief against my sweaty back.
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