Page 10 of The Devil Wears Tartan

“Um, thank you,” I stutter. “Thanks. Did, uh, Kenzie say if she’s applying?”

“Just that she was thinking about it,” she answers. “I hope you will too.”

I nod and glance down at the page again before saying goodbye and catching up to Lydia.

“What’s that about?” she asks, snatching the paper out of my hand before I can answer. “Oooh, a scholarship! Damn, nine grand?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” I say, my voice distant. I’m still fixated on the notion of Kenzie applying. “They just announced it today.”

“Oh my god.” Lydia stops walking when we reach the closed auditorium doors, the paper shaking in her grip as she reaches up to cover her mouth with her other hand.

“What?” I demand as she continues trying to stifle her laughter.

“It says...it says...” she chokes out between giggles, “it says, ‘Applicants will be expected to volunteer regularly at events such as our community dance-outs and...and...T-T-Tartan...T-Tartan...Teas.’”

She bursts into a loud guffaw that has me reaching over to shush her.

“S-sorry,” she whispers as she continues to tremble with laughter, “but Moira, what the hell is a Tartan Tea?”

I sigh and roll my eyes, but I’m starting to laugh too. “It’s this fundraising thing they do every few months. People buy tickets, and—”

I stop mid-sentence when the sound of footsteps behind me catches my attention. I glance over my shoulder and freeze.

Kenzie goes still too, coming to a halt a few feet away from us. Her eyes flick back and forth between me and Lydia before I follow her gaze to where it lands on the blue paper in Lydia’s hands.

I look back at her, and I swear I see her lip twitch.

“You’re blocking the door.” Her voice is low and laced with ice.

“Oh, sorry,” Lydia answers. She moves back a few feet, but it takes me a couple seconds to do the same.

I’ve never seen someone look as sharp as Kenzie does now. She’s like a human razor blade, her already angular face carved out by a contempt that takes her from haughty good looks to straight-up super villain territory.

My whole body feels like it’s heating up as she stares me down. The air between us is charged— magnetic, even. I can’t tell if the current is pulling us together or repelling us apart. For a moment, I can’t even tell which one of those I want more. Something about her eyes keeps me from blinking, like there’s a taut cord stretched between us that might snap in two if I do.

“I’d throw that out if I were you,” she says as she moves closer. She jerks her chin down to indicate the paper in Lydia’s hands, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “It’s for university students only, and I hear you have a habit of dropping out.”

I swallow and let the sting settle in my chest before answering. “I hear you have a habit of reusing the same insults. Is that really all you have on me, Kenzie?”

She tilts her head. “Do I need anything else, Moira?”

“If you want to stop me from going after this scholarship, then yeah, you do.”

I hear Lydia clear her throat behind me, but I don’t turn around. I still haven’t blinked. Neither has Kenzie.

“Who says I want to stop you?”

I let out a short, terse laugh. Blood is rushing in my ears, and even though I didn’t care about it at all five minutes ago, winning this scholarship now feels like it would be the most satisfying thing in the world.

“Clearly you do, or you wouldn’t have told me to throw the paper out.”

“You know what, Moira?” She moves even closer, close enough for me to see the dusting of freckles across her nose. “I do want you to apply for this scholarship. I would love for the chance to show everyone I don’t need a broken ankle to beat you.”

She’s so close now I can see she’s breathing hard, her nostrils flaring and her chest heaving just like mine. She’s a couple inches taller than me, and I lift my chin to level my face with hers.

“You can’t beat me, Kenzie. We both know it.”

My words hang in the air, filling the inch of space between our lips. Her eyes have gone so dark they’re almost black.

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