Page 34 of Hateful Lies

Chapter 16

Astrid

The following week, life seems a little easier, but that’s when shit happens. Your guard slips, then shit scatters, and you don’t have time to duck. But it isn’t aimed at me this time. Rhetoric is the class I’m lost in. I have nothing to fall back on, unlike my other subjects, where I’ve had some exposure, even if it isn’t impressive.

I spend my free period in study hall, actually studying, and there are people there that actually help students study. That blonde girl, Charlotte, sits at a circular table with another girl from our dorm. They dress like a matching salt and pepper set—alike but not the same. She glances over as I walk in and does this thing with her tiny nose. She wrinkles it and then starts talking to her friend again. As long as she doesn’t start with me.

Rhetoric doesn’t start for five more minutes, so I take out my textbook and read ahead. Professor Harmon sees me with my book open, and we end up taking a pop quiz. Maybe she assumes I didn’t do the reading, and I think the other kids will be pissed if they figure out why. But no one moans or groans. They put their stuff away and quietly take the quiz. I think I’m in the clear until Justin pokes me in the back.

Professor Harmon lifts her eyebrows in unison when I hand her my quiz. I’m one of the first to finish. She doesn’t wait for me to leave her desk and starts checking the answers. I return to my desk, and she looks up slightly, frowning. She makes a few marks on my paper, and then we wait for the rest of the class to finish.

I look around and accidentally make eye contact with Charlotte. She makes that face that’s not too nasty, but it isn’t nice. It’s like she’s trying to figure out something, and that something is me. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I don’t think I am. I turn all the way around and put my forehead on the desk until class starts. Luckily, I don’t nod off.

“I’d like for two students to volunteer to come up to the front of the classroom.” Here we go. This woman loves to make us stand up. Professor Harmon scans the class with her eagle eyes and briefly passes over me. I don’t dare make eye contact and stare at my hands.

Professor Harmon sighs in exasperation. “Whoever volunteers will have their lowest grade dropped at the end of the term.”

The hands fly up like we’re in a stadium doing an old-time wave. I keep my hand down, but kids have their arms straight in the air like they’re trying to touch the ceiling. I’ve never seen this crazy shit before.

“Justin and Pierce,” she calls out. They go to the front and stand on either side of her desk. “The topic will be the future of college education. Is it better to invest the money in a career, or is there value in attending a traditional university?”

I’m not going to college, even if it were free. I can’t afford it, despite what Mom hopes we can do to salvage my life. The minute I leave Stonehaven, I’m going to start earning money like a rich bitch so I can tell my father to go blow up his hole.

Someone moans but swallows it when Harmon scans the class. “Justin,” she continues, “you will argue for a career, and Pierce, you will argue for higher education.” Pierce smiles like it’s an inside joke while Justin stares bleakly at the floor.

Justin has this soft look that makes you think he’s intense and sensitive. But with that long blond hair, he’d have gotten his ass beat regularly at Monarch. Still, he’s seriously attractive, and some tough girl would’ve had pity on him and made him carry her purse.

Pierce, on the other hand, was built for a fight club. His body is shaped like a capital T. Broad shoulders, slim hips, and you can tell he’s put together by the way his freaking school jacket stretches across his back. I wonder if he can bust the seams. Unfortunately, Pierce spends no time developing a personality. He might look sexed-up, but when he opens that mouth and speaks, I cringe.

Pierce glares at me, and I have no idea what they’ve been saying.

“School allows a person to earn contacts through merit and intelligence.” Pierce looks right at me, and I roll my eyes. “A worthwhile reputation determines the quality of one’s connections.” He eyes Justin, whose cheeks are burning red. “A person should develop relationships with his or her peers through good conduct and trust.”

“Connections?” scoffs Justin.

“It’s not your turn to speak,” cautions Harmon.

But Justin ignores her. “Connections are determined before we arrive. Bragging about who one knows doesn’t mean one actually knows them.”

“Maybe one no longer wants the association,” snipes Pierce.

“Boys.”

Pierce scoffs, ignoring Harmon. “A questionable reputation will turn a person into a beggar.”

“Or a loudmouth,” replies Justin.

Harmon stands up and holds her hands out, ready to push them apart if necessary. But they only glare at one another. The classroom is weighed down with their animosity as if the room is humid after a hard summer rain.

“Go sit down,” Harmon says, “It’s rhetoric class, not group therapy.”

Pierce glares at the back of Justin’s head as he follows him to their desks. They hang out together all the time, but they don’t seem to like one another. Maybe they’re too rich to hang with anyone else. Pierce tried to take down Justin, but Mr. Sensitive has a tongue wrapped in acid. Suddenly I want to know more.

No one loiters in the hallways. And if you need a locker, they’re in the lower level by the bathrooms. Everyone uses a laptop and carries it from class to class. I’m walking to my next class when Justin catches up with me. My hand is on the door leading into the stairwell, but I take it off the handle. We’re not going to be alone. He stands next to me and waits for me to exit.

“You know what?” I smile falsely. “I forgot something, and it’s in the direction where you aren’t going.”

He smiles. “Astrid, I want to talk to you about club business.”

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