Текст книги "Every Last Breath"
Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout
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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“I don’t know what he is,” he cut in.
My eyes were wide. “He never speaks and he’s awesome with a gun and can break out some kung fu moves, but wait... I can’t picture—” I lowered my voice “– you know who shooting a gun or using kung fu.”
His lips were twitching again. “Yeah, tough to imagine the big guy upstairs needing a weapon or martial arts.”
True. I deflated like a balloon with a pinprick in it. For a second, I’d thought I was onto something amazing. “But he has to be something.”
“Anything is possible.” His fingers eased the muscles in my neck as his gaze locked onto mine. “So about your mom...”
I tilted my head, giving him better access. “Your– I mean, the Boss told me that she made a deal to never escape if I was saved, and at first, I thought, wow, Lilith finally did something for me—her daughter—but then the Boss reminded me that if I had died, then Lilith would die, that Lilith knew that.
She was basically saving herself.” I shrugged. “So, I guess we know now, huh? How I came back. I’m still grateful. It doesn’t matter how I got back, only that I’m here.”
His expression lost its hard edges again. “You’re right. You’re here and that’s all that matters, but here’s the thing, Layla. The Boss... Well, the Boss has moments of great compassion and sometimes the Boss does everything possible to avoid taking credit for that.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. “And Lilith could be the same way. Does something good and then hides it. Or maybe she was just saving her own ass, but you know what?”
“What?” I whispered.
He tilted his head, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’ll never know the real reason, but you can choose to believe whatever you want about it. You don’t have to make your choice now, but no matter what you decide to believe, it doesn’t change who or what you are or how much you mean to me or to Zayne or to the other Wardens and Stacey. Even Cayman,” he added.
“Even Cayman?” I laughed hoarsely.
He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Even him. None of that changes. That female—Lilith—if she did what she did to save you, that’s great. If she did it to save her own life, then forget her. Either way, it doesn’t change you.”
I closed my eyes as I leaned into him, and he took my weight, wrapping his other arm around me.
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right, Shortie.”
“No, you’re not.” I grinned when he snorted. “But you are right now. It would be nice to know that Lilith cared for me and made a choice to save me, because I’m her daughter, but it doesn’t really matter in the end.”
“Nope.” He kissed the other side of my lips. “Not at all.”
“I matter,” I whispered, and he rewarded my response with a direct smacker on the lips. “You matter. We matter.” I got another kiss for that. “Zayne matters and Nicolai and Dez and all the other Wardens matter. Stacey matters. Even Cayman matters.”
His lips curled into a smile against mine. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Shush it.” This time, I kissed him.
Roth clasped my cheeks as he pulled back. “Are you okay?”
I knew he was asking not just because of what happened with Lilith, but also with Zayne, and I loved him so much for that—so, so much. “I’m okay.”
“Ah, then you better hold on, Shortie.”
“Hold on—” I squealed as he stood suddenly, and I did hold on, wrapping my legs around his lean hips and my arms around his neck.
“You got it.” Then he kissed me again as he made a low sound deep in his throat that sent shivers all across me. His lips glided over mine again, nibbling and clinging to them until he deepened the kiss with a plunge of his tongue, and I felt the metal ball. Every sense fired in all directions, and it was explosive, and my heart fluttered, along with many, many other parts of my body. A familiar yearning surged inside me, and instead of sending fear skittering through my system, it shot darts of sublime pleasure through my veins.
“Don’t stop holding on,” Roth ordered, and dark sensuality deepened his voice. “I’m going to make you more than okay.”
And he lived up to that promise.
Six months later...
A warm wind lifted my hair, tossing the pale strands across my face and stirring the tiny, sensitive feathers layering my wings. The moon was high and clouds were thick, a perfect night for flight.
I was perched on the roof of One World Trade, one foot on the ledge, the other dangling off. My wings were arced high, keeping me from toppling right off. Down below, dazzling lights lit up the streets. I couldn’t make out people, but I could see their shapes, a bunch of tiny blurs moving. Around me were other buildings stretching tall into sky, windows lit up while others darkened. None of them were as high as me.
Reaching behind me, I placed my hand flat against the building and closed my eyes. The sad and yet powerful history of rebirth and renewal that had taken place on this patch of land was hard not to feel, not to take a moment to recognize.
I had learned a long time ago that sometimes humans could be more evil than any demon rising up from the pits of Hell.
A sharp whistle drew my attention and my eyes opened as I let my hand fall back to the ledge. The whistle had come from somewhere on Wall Street, and a grin tugged at my lips. I stood slowly.
And then I took flight.
Wind rushed up, immediately catching my wings as they spread. Arcing up with closed eyes, I flew higher, and cold air swirled over my heated skin, down the center of my back and over my wings. It was just like Jasmine had described it when I opened my eyes. I stretched out my arm and I really thought I could possibly grasp the stars in my hand and tug them close to my chest.
Maybe I could even fly straight to the heavens, but I seriously doubted the Alphas would be too thrilled about that. The mere thought of knocking on their pearly gates brought a smile to my face as I allowed myself to spin like a little missile before I hit the part of the atmosphere where I could easily be clipped by a plane and would start to have trouble taking in oxygen. I knew if I went any farther, I wouldn’t be able to breathe, but I also knew instinct would take over and my body would force me back down. I’d learned that the hard way last night.
One glance below and it was like the whole world was right beneath me. Buildings jutted out at me, like dozens and dozens of fists reaching up. Millions of people lived and breathed in an area that now appeared so incredibly small.
What an awesome view of New York City.
A torrent of wind smacked into my wings, but I spun out of the gust, and then swooped down.
Tucking my wings back, I let myself get caught in an epic free fall. I picked up speed and for a moment, the rate at which I fell stole my breath, but there was no fear or panic, just an incredible rush of adrenaline and joy.
Halfway back to the city, I unfurled my wings, slowing my descent so I didn’t pancake into the side of a building, because that would have been one heck of a way to end the night and my little cross-country jaunt.
Coasting over the city, I avoided the areas I knew the other Wardens frequented and glided back toward the financial district. The New York clan knew we were here. Dez had even phoned ahead, warning the clan he’d come from not to mess with us, but I didn’t want to push our luck. Though I doubted I was enemy number one for them and we all had worked together half a year ago to stop the Lilin and the apocalypse, my partner in crime would always be another story—a very tricky story.
Slowing down, I landed in a crouch on the roof of what I thought was a bank. I’d just folded my wings back when a heavy form landed beside me, causing tiny pieces of stone to loosen from the ledge and fall to the ground. Arching a brow, I looked up.
Roth stood with his legs wide and wings spread. His skin was inky like onyx, shiny and hard. Bare-chested, he blended into the night around him. Or he would’ve if he hadn’t flashed his fangs at me—
and if the skull on the buckle of his belt wasn’t bright white.
“Your hair,” he said.
My eyes narrowed while I resisted the urge to reach up and see what he meant. “What about it?”
He grinned as he knelt beside me, quickly slipping back into his human form. “You look like you just rolled out of a Guns N’ Roses video.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Possibly even the ‘Paradise City’ video.”
“Better and better.”
Leaning over, he kissed my temple and then my brow. “Freaking sexy as hell, though. Reminds me of what it looks like after I get my fingers in it and we’re—”
“I get the picture.” I laughed. “Totally know where you’re going with that.”
“What? I was going to say when we’re waking up in the morning.”
I snorted. “Oh, whatever.”
His deep chuckle sent a shiver through me. “You know me too well.”
That was true. Closing the distance between us, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Did you see me?”
“Yes.” He closed a hand around my nape, keeping me from pulling away. “I saw you kiss the stars.”
My lips spread in a wide smile. I liked the way that sounded. “Want to see me kiss my own personal star?” Yeah, that was cheesy, but even though I couldn’t see his smile, I could feel it in every cell in my body. His closeness, his happiness and mine, practically had my body humming.
“Always,” he murmured.
Tilting my head, I brushed my lips over his once and then twice. The hand along my neck tightened as I ran the tip of my tongue along the seam of his wonderful mouth. His lips parted, and I took the kiss deeper, and like every time, he tasted like dark, sinful chocolate, and like every single time, one kiss was never enough. There were more as we crouched on the ledge of a roof, sixty-some stories high, and I knew if we didn’t come up for air soon, we would start to get greedy, first with our hands and then other parts of us.
That had also happened last night.
Pulling back, I let out the breath I was holding as I cupped his jaw in my hand while he made the most pitiful sound. I giggled in the minute space between our mouths. “Later,” I promised.
The sound turned to a deeper rumble full of approval. Anticipation swelled, forming a hunger much greater than the one I lived with every day. “Later better come soon,” he growled.
He slid his hand from my neck, down my back. Through the loose, thin tank top, I could feel his heat. “Tomorrow we leave? Canada next?”
I nodded. “Canada it is.”
He said nothing as he rested his hand on my hip, and I was quiet as I stared out at the city down below. I was staring at my future while I crouched next to my eternity, and that was a wonderful, beautiful feeling.
I still hadn’t picked out a college yet or decided on what I wanted to major in, but that was okay. I had time and I didn’t want to rush a second of it.
“Is it later yet?” Roth asked.
Casting him a lingering look, I grinned as I rose fluidly, with a grace I never thought I’d ever be capable of. “Only if you can catch me.”
Roth rose at once, capturing my hand before I could even take off, threading his fingers through mine. “Already did, Layla.”
And so he had, a long time ago, when he strutted into a dark alley and took out a Poser demon.
Truth be told, I really didn’t even want to run.
This was love, and love could change people, even if that person was really a demon and the Crown Prince of Hell.
“I love you,” I told him, and I told him that every day and I would tell him that over and over again.
Roth lowered his forehead to mine as he brought our joined hands to his chest, placing them above his heart. “And I love you,” he said. “With every breath I take, I will always love you.”
* * * * *
Jennifer L. Armentrout
and Harlequin TEEN
are thrilled to introduce
THE PROBLEM WITH FOREVER,
the first in a brand-new
contemporary young adult series.
Read on for an exclusive sneak peek!
The Problem with Forever
by Jennifer L. Armentrout
one
THREE SUGARS.
Every single morning, Carl Newport dumped three huge spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee. Well, when he thought no one was looking, he’d add two more. For a man in his early fifties, he was fit and trim, but he had one mean sugar addiction. In his study, the home office full of thick medical journals, there was a drawer in his desk that looked like a candy store had thrown up in it.
Hovering near the sugar bowl, he reached for the spoon again as he glanced over his shoulder. His hand froze.
I grinned from where I sat at the huge island, an empty cereal bowl in front of me.
He sighed as he faced me, leaning back against the granite countertop, and eyed me over the rim of his mug as he took a drink of the coffee. His dark black hair, combed back from his forehead, had started to turn silver at the temples, and with his deep olive skin, I thought it made him look fairly distinguished. He was handsome, and so was his wife Rosa. Well, handsome wasn’t the right word for her. With her dark, exotic features, she was very pretty. Stunning, really, in the way she held and carried herself.
I placed my spoon in the bowl, carefully so it wouldn’t clang against the ceramic. I... I didn’t like to make unnecessary noises. An old habit I’d been unable to break.
Glancing up from my bowl, I found Carl watching me. “Are you ready for today, Mallory?”
My heart skipped unsteadily in response to what felt like an innocent question, but was really the equivalent of a loaded assault rifle. I was ready in all the ways I should be. Like a nerd, I’d printed off my schedule and the map of Lands High, and Rosa had called ahead, obtaining my locker assignment, so I knew exactly where everything was. I’d studied that map. Seriously. As if my life depended on it.
There’d be no need to ask anyone where any of my classes were. Rosa had even made the trip with me yesterday to the high school so I got familiar with the road and how long the drive would take me.
Today was the first time I’d be attending public school. Well, not the first time. There were times before, when I was younger, but I barely remembered them, so I didn’t count them. Then there was the other time, after Carl and Rosa had taken me in, and that first day at middle school had been an epic fail.
That was four years ago.
But now I was ready. I should be ready.
“Mallory?”
I glanced up and gave a curt nod as I pressed my lips together and dropped my hands to my lap. I was totally ready.
Carl lowered his mug, placing it on the counter behind him. “You’re sure you know the way to school?”
Nodding again, I hopped up from the barstool and grabbed my bowl. If I left now, I would be fifteen minutes early. Probably a good idea, I guessed as I placed the bowl and spoon in the stainless steel dishwasher.
“And you have everything you need?” he asked, and as I straightened, he twisted his body toward me. Carl wasn’t a tall man, maybe around five foot eight, but I still only came up to his shoulders.
“Use your words, Mallory. I know you’re nervous and you’ve got a hundred things going on in your head, but you need to use your words. Not shake your head yes or no.”
Use your words. I squeezed my eyes shut. Dr. Taft had said that phrase a million times over, as had the speech therapist that had worked with me three times a week for two years. Use your words. Words flew through my head like a flock of birds migrating south for the winter. Words were never the problem. I had them, always had them, but it was the plucking the words out and putting a voice to them that had always been tricky.
I drew in a breath and then swallowed. “Yeah. Yes. I’m... ready.”
And I had to be ready, because today was a big day. It went beyond attending a new school. If I had any hope of attending college next year like a normal, functioning person, I had to make it through one year of public school.
I had to.
A small smile tipped up his lips as he scooped a long strand of auburn hair back from my face. My hair was more brown than red until I stepped outside. Then I turned into a living, breathing crimson fire engine of redheaded awkwardness. “You can do this. I completely believe that,” he said, dipping to place a kiss on my forehead. “You just have to believe that, Mallory.”
My breath hitched in my throat. “Thank you.”
Two words.
They weren’t powerful enough, because how could they be when Carl and Rosa had saved my life?
Literally and figuratively. When it came to them, I’d been at the right place at the right moment for all the wrong reasons in the universe. Our story was something straight out of an Oprah special or an ABC Family movie. Unreal.
Saying thank you would never be enough.
I hurried to the island and grabbed my book bag and keys before I broke down and started crying like a kid that just discovered Santa wasn’t real.
As if he read my mind, he stopped me at the door. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Show me.”
I started to nod, but stopped myself. “Okay.”
He grinned then, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “Good luck.”
Opening the front door, I stepped out on the narrow stoop and into the warm air and bright sun of a late August morning. My gaze drifted over the neatly landscaped front yard that matched the house across the street, and was identical to every house in the Pointe subdivision.
Every house.
Sometimes it still shocked me that I was living in a place like this—a big home with a yard and flowers artfully planted, and a car in the recently asphalted driveway that was mine. Like I’d wake up and find myself back...
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away as I approached the decade-old Honda Civic. Kept in great condition, the silver paint hadn’t faded. The car had belonged to Rosa and Carl’s real daughter, a high school graduation gift given to Marquette before she’d left for college to become a doctor, like them.
Except she never made it to college. An aneurysm. There one minute and gone the next, and there had been nothing that could be done. I imagined that was something Rosa and Carl had always struggled with... They saved so many lives, but couldn’t save their daughter.
It was a little weird since the car belonged to me now, like I was somehow a replacement child.
They never made me feel that way and I’d never say that out loud, but still, when I got behind the wheel I couldn’t help but think about Marquette.
Before I backed out of the driveway, the reflection of my eyes in the rearview mirror snagged my attention. They were way too wide. I looked like a deer about to get slammed by a semi, if deer had blue eyes, but whatever. The skin around my eyes was pale, my brows knitted. I looked scared.
Sigh.
Relaxing my face took effort, and practically the entire twenty-eight-minute drive to Lands High, and the moment the three-story brick school came into view, beyond the baseball and football fields, all that effort went to waste.
My stomach twisted as my hands tightened on the steering wheel. The school was huge and relatively new. The website said it had been built in the nineties, and compared to other schools, it was still shiny.
Shiny and huge.
I passed the buses turning to do their drop-off in the roundabout and followed another car around the sprawling structure, to the mall-size parking lot. Parking wasn’t hard, and I was a little early, so I used that fifteen minutes to do something akin to a daily affirmation, just as cheesy and embarrassing.
I can do this. I will do this. Over and over, I repeated those words as I climbed out of the Honda, slinging the bag over my shoulder. My heart pounded as I looked around me, taking in the sea of faces streaming toward the walkway leading to the back entrance of Lands High. Different features, colors, shapes and sizes greeted me. For a moment it was like my brain was a second away from short-circuiting. I held my breath. Eyes glanced over me, some lingering and some moving on as if they didn’t even notice me standing there, which was okay in a way, because I was used to being a ghost.
But I wasn’t supposed to be a ghost anymore. Christ—that was the whole point of being here. My hand fluttered to the strap of my bag and, mouth dry, I forced my legs to move.
First big step was joining the wave of people, slipping in beside them and focusing on the blond ponytail of the girl in front of me. My gaze dipped. She was wearing a jean skirt and sandals. Bright orange, strappy gladiator-style sandals. They were cute. I could tell her that. Strike up a conversation.
I said nothing.
Her legs were toned, as if she was a runner like Rosa. The girl in front of me had gorgeous legs.
Mine were the equivalent of twigs, much like my arms. When I was younger, I remembered being told I’d blow away in a strong gust of wind. Not much had changed.
And I really needed to stop staring at her legs.
Lifting my gaze, my eyes collided with a boy next to me. Sleep clung to his expression. He didn’t smile or frown or do anything other than turn his attention back to the cell phone he held in his hand. I wasn’t even sure if he saw me.
The morning air was warm, but the moment I stepped into the near frigid school, I was grateful for the thin cardigan I’d carefully paired with the tank top and jeans.
From the entrance, everyone spread out in different directions. Smaller students who were roughly around my height, but were definitely much younger, speed-walked over the red and blue Viking painted on the floor, their book bags thumping off their backs as they dodged taller and broader bodies. Others walked like zombies, gaits slow and almost roaming aimlessly. I was somewhere in the middle, moving at a normal pace, average.
But there were some who raced toward others, hugging them and laughing. I guessed they were friends who hadn’t seen each other over the summer break or maybe they were just really excitable people. Either way, I stared at them as I walked. Seeing them reminded me of Ainsley. Like me, she’d been homeschooled—still was—but if she wasn’t, I imagined we’d be like them right now, hopping toward one another, grinning and excited. Normal.
Ainsley was probably still in bed.
I took the stairwell at the end of the wide hall, near the entrance to the crowded cafeteria. Even being close to the lunch room had my heart thumping. I didn’t even want to think about that right now, because I might end up in that corner again.
My locker was on the second floor, middle of the hall, number two-three-four. I found it with no problem, and hey, it opened on the first try. Twisting at the waist, I pulled out a binder I was using for my classes in the afternoon and dropped it on the top shelf, knowing that I was going to be collecting massive textbooks today.
The locker beside mine slammed shut and my chin jerked up. A tall girl with tiny braids all over her head flashed a quick smile in my direction. “Hey.”
By the time I got my tongue to form that one, stupid little word, she’d already spun and was halfway down the hall, and I was murmuring at air. Feeling about ten kinds of slow, I rolled my eyes and closed my locker door. Turning around, my gaze landed on the back of a guy heading in the opposite direction.
I don’t even know why or how I ended up looking at him. Maybe it was because he was a good head taller than anyone around him. Like a total creeper, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. He had wavy hair, somewhere between blond and brown, and it was cut short against the nape of his bronzed neck, but was longer on the top. I wondered if it flopped on his forehead, and there was an unsteady tug at my chest that made me think of a boy I used to know years ago, whose hair always did that—
fell forward. A boy it kind of hurt my chest to think about.
His shoulders were broad under a black T-shirt, biceps defined in a way that made me think of someone who either played sports or did a lot of labor. His jeans were faded, but not in the expensive way. I knew the difference between name-brand jeans that looked well-worn and jeans that were simply old and on their last wear. He carried a single notebook in his hand, and even from where I stood, the notebook looked about as old as his pants did.
Something weird wiggled in my chest, a feeling of familiarity, and as I stood in front of my locker, I let myself think something I hadn’t allowed myself to really consider.
I might actually know some of the people here. Kids I’d grown up with, slept in the same house with. Maybe they wouldn’t remember me. It had been four years since I’d seen any of them, but I’d remember them and I especially remembered him.
* * *
Most of my classes were AP, and I blended right in, taking my seat in the back. No one talked to me.
Not until before lunch, at the start of English, when a dark-haired girl with sloe-colored eyes sat in the empty seat across from me.
“Hi,” she said, smacking a thick notebook on the flat surface attached to the chair. “I hear Mr.
Newberry is a real jerk. Take a look at the pictures.”
My gaze flickered to the front of the classroom. Our teacher hadn’t arrived yet, but the chalkboard was lined with photos of famous authors. Shakespeare, Voltaire, Hemingway, Emerson and Thoreau were a few I recognized, and I probably wouldn’t recognize them if I didn’t have endless time on my hands.
“All dudes, right?” she continued, and when I looked back at her, the tight black curls bounced as she shook her head. “My sister had him two years ago. She warned me that he basically thinks you need a dick to produce anything of literary value.”
My eyes went wide.
“So I’m thinking this class should be a lot of fun.” She grinned, flashing straight, white teeth. “By the way, I’m Keira Hart. I don’t remember you from last year. Not that I remember everyone, but I think I would’ve at least seen you.”
Sweat covered my palms as she continued to stare at me from dark brown eyes. The question she was throwing out was simple. The answer was easy. My throat dried and I could feel heat creeping up my neck as the seconds ticked by.
Use your words.
My toes curled against the soft leather soles of my flip-flops. “I’m... I’m new.”
There! I did it. I spoke. Take that, Dr. Taft. Words were totally my bitch. All right, perhaps I was exaggerating my accomplishment since I technically only spoke two words and repeated one, but whatever.
Keira didn’t seem to notice my internal dumbassery. “That’s what I thought.” And then she waited, and for a moment, I didn’t get why she was looking at me so expectantly. Then I did.
My name. She was probably waiting for my name. Air hissed in between my teeth. “I’m Mallory...
Mallory Dodge.”
“Cool.” She nodded as she rocked her curvy shoulders against the back of the chair. “Oh. Here he comes.”
We didn’t talk again, but I was feeling pretty good about the sum total of seven words spoken, and I was totally going to count the repeat ones. This was, by far, so much better than middle school. I’d made it through four classes, spoken to someone, and even though Mr. Newberry spoke with an air of pretentiousness that even a newbie like me could pick up on, I was floating on a major accomplishment high.
Then came lunch.
For the most part, I was a complete fail at it.
Nerves had twisted my stomach into knots, and even though I made it through the lunch line, all I grabbed was a banana and a bottle of water. There were so many people around me and so much noise—laughter, shouting and a constant low hum of conversation—that I was completely out of my element. Everyone was at the long square tables, huddled in groups. No one was really sitting alone from what I could see, and the smell of disinfectant and burnt food was overwhelming.
As I left the cafeteria, I thought my gaze drifted over Keira sitting at a half-full table. For a second, I thought she saw me, but I hurried out into the somewhat quieter hall and kept going, passing a few kids lingering against the lockers and the faint scent of cigarettes that surrounded them. I rounded the corner, and at the last moment, avoided a head-on collision with a boy not much taller than me.
He stumbled to the side, bloodshot eyes widening out of surprise. A scent clung to him that at first I thought was smoke, but when I inhaled, it was something richer, earthy and thick.
“Sorry, chula,” he murmured, and his eyes did a slow glide from the tips of my toes right back up to mine. He started to grin.
At the end of the hall, a taller boy picked up his pace. “Jayden, where in the fuck you running off to, bro? We need to talk.”
The guy I assumed was Jayden turned, rubbing a hand over his close-cropped dark hair as he muttered, “Mierda, hombre.”
A door opened and a teacher stepped out, frowning as his gaze bounced between the two, and I figured it was time to get out of the hallway, because nothing about the taller boy’s face said he was happy or friendly, and the teacher sort of looked like he wanted to cut someone.
I ended up in the library, playing Candy Crush on my cell phone until the bell rang, and I spent my next class—history—furious with myself, because it probably was Keira in the lunchroom and I could’ve approached her table. She seemed nice enough, but instead I hid in the library like a dork.
Doubt settled over me like a too-heavy, coarse blanket. What if I couldn’t do this? What if I was always going to be this—whatever this was—for the rest of my life? Maybe school was a bad idea.
College would’ve been different, less pressure to fit in, and I could’ve eased into it. My skin grew itchy by the time I headed to my final class, my heart rate probably somewhere near stroke territory, because my last period was the worst period ever in the history of ever, ever.
Speech class.
Otherwise known as Communications. When I’d registered for the school, I’d been feeling all kinds of brave while Carl and Rosa stared at me like I was half crazy. They said they could get me out of the class, even though it was a requirement at Lands High, but I’d had something to prove.
Ugh.
Now I wished I had employed some common sense and let them do whatever it was that would’ve gotten me excused, because this was a nightmare waiting to happen. When I saw the open door to the class on the third floor, it gaped at me, the room ultrabright inside.
