“Off you go,” she barks at us, not looking up from the chart.
Her whistle rings in my ear, making me cringe.
Heading toward the bigger group of students, she yells loudly, “Start your timers and go!” Everyone rushes off, besides me and Lux. We walk to the starting point. My stomach feels empty, and it’s not from the lack of food. It’s empty because he decided to march into this class and squeeze it to death with his hazel eyes.
“What was that whole lawyer bit about, Corpse?”
Corpse.
How Tim Burton of you.
“Put a can in it, dick.”
He throws his hands up, and it’s the first time he hasn’t shoved himself into something that didn’t pertain to him. Lux always pushes his agenda, always gets his way, and certainly puts himself into everyone’s business.
But not this time.
What's your angle, Lux?
He pulls out a stopwatch, not looking at me more than a specimen to study. For some reason, that’s worse than when he pays too much attention to me.
“Go,” he commands numbly.
Then I’m jogging.
“No jogging!” he reprimands from the side of me. “You may not believe this, but I take classes seriously, so you’ll listen or I’ll fucking make you listen.”
My eyes meet his and see the warning written in his expression. He’s not joking, which only makes me want to laugh.
I pull to a soft stroll and roll my eyes at him.
It takes fourteen minutes for me to walk the mile. The entire time, Lux doesn’t say a single word. This is how it should be.
When we’re finally done, my body aches, and I hate the fact that I feel as exhausted as I do. My body will take time to adapt, but it would be nice if it figured out its shit.
Four
The first week goes by without anything more than school and homework. Classes are boring, the regular stuff that drones on and on. It’s nearly peaceful, quiet, almost too calm. I’m not even stressing about the ease of this year. It’s going to be cake, and I’ll be the glutton on its offerings.
PE, Math, English, and Science are my least favorite, while History and Psych are definitely my top two. The rest are inconsequential.
No matter how hard I try to avoid the guys of Student Gov, they seem to be in all my classes. They don’t pay a lot of attention to me, which is fine by me.
It’s different this year. Yang and I were the only females involved last year, but with her gone and me quitting, it’s all guys. Lux, the president. Bridger, the vice president. Ten, the secretary. Ross, the enforcer. There’s no longer a historian or treasurer. No one knows why we weren’t replaced, but it stands as is. If they’re waiting for me to come back or beg me to come back, they’re going to be waiting a long time.
These guys are the same ones who ruined my life, but wait. My gaze lands on a paper pinned to the wall. The Arcadia Emblem is at the top, stamped like a brand of royalty. Looks like there’s a new addition according to the wall announcements.
Welcome Jordan Winthrop, your newest enforcer.
Not sure who he is, but he sounds like a tool.
Maybe I’m being biased, but he’s probably like the rest of them—dickish, self-serving heartbreakers.
My next class should be one of my favorites, knowing the teachings, but it will probably be as bad as gym.
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in Psych, waiting for class to start when several girls huddle in the middle of the room, chatting conspiratorially. It’s nothing unusual. We’re in high school, after all, but I pay little attention to what goes on around me. It’s less stress and drama for my mental health.
“I heard she kills animals in her spare time,” a chick I don’t know whispers, catching my ear.
It’s obvious who they’re discussing.
“Maybe that’s why she’s in this class. Learning how to hide her psychopathic tendencies,” another joins in.
“Getting away with murder would definitely be on my list of things to learn,” I deadpan, barging in on their conversation, watching them jolt back as if I’m going to hurt them.
I would never touch a fucking animal. These cretins love their rumors. It’s disgusting how much time and hatred people put in for five seconds of fame. I’d say fifteen minutes, but we all know a teen’s attention span ends as soon as it begins.
“Nah, ladies. Miss Hudson only likes drinking the blood of men. Fresh from the tap. You know, since she’s a bloodsucking vampire.” He taps his throat methodically, receiving giggles from the stupid chicks who have nothing better to do than talk shit.
I don’t know when he walked in or how I missed it. He was probably acting as a god, heaven-sent and otherworldly. News flash, that’s inaccurate.
I would know his voice anywhere. If he stood in a lineup, no imagery necessary, his voice would be refined like aged whiskey. It’s too unique, smoky, and promises havoc to everyone around him.
My head tells me not to react, but my heart tells me to make him eat it alive. That’s what my heart wanted all last year, wasn’t it? Him. His stupid blond hair that made my insides tingle and his piercing hazel eyes that couldn’t decide which shade they wanted to be. It’s the way he’s arrogant as hell but doesn’t cower or apologize for it. He’s unapologetically himself; a cruel, rich, and unattainable asshole.
He hasn’t said a single thing since he forced me to walk the mile. Assistant Lux isn’t anything like Lennox DeLeon, President of the dickbags. Shocker.
They may physically be the same person, but Lux is who I know. Lennox is who scares me.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it last time, Lux. We both know my mouth is your favorite,” I taunt a little too late but still knowing where to push.
Whether he’ll admit it or not, he had feelings for me. So much so that he begged me to pick him. Now, with my eyes staring right at him, I feel power ooze from my pores, and it only increases as his jaw tics. It’s not news that Lennox is the richest kid, besides me, and the most charming guy in school—unless he’s dealing with me. He’s constantly fawned over and eats it up, gorging on the attention like a leech. But, shit, he’s a gorgeous leech.
“I’d never let a vampire with pale as fuck skin touch me. Get some sunlight, Bloodsucker. You’re starting to show your corpse.”
“Fuck off, Lux.” It comes off too heated, showing my cards when he shouldn’t have control over the deck at all.
A smirk tilts at his lips like he knows he’s won something, but he’ll never win. Not again.
“It’s Lennox to you.” He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms like he’s macho. It’s a front for a boy with daddy issues, even if he’ll never admit it.
“Okay, Lux. I’ll take note.”
He grunts before going back to his work.
Mr. Bautista announces our new assignment, telling us to pick a serial killer. He explains the requirements—that we’re to research them and write a five-page theory on why they did what they did and whether or not they’re a psychopath or a sociopath. Or both.
As he excuses us to start, Lux’s hand raises, but when the teacher doesn’t notice, he whistles.
“Yes, Mr. DeLeon?”