Page 21 of The Cruelty of Thorns

I felt my cheeks heat up as one of the other girls turned to look at me. “Was not.”

Kristin laughed. “Oh girl, you were. Thinking about a certain tall, dark and handsome student?”

Tall, dark, and handsome? Oh god, I thought, realization dawning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay, we’ve all been there. Just means you’re human like the rest of us. Besides, he is droolworthy.”

I rushed out of the bathroom without brushing my teeth, so intent was I on escaping Kristin’s teasing. I stopped by the room to drop off my toiletries and pick up my books for the day and bounded down the stairs before Kristin returned. I decided to forego the cafeteria and grabbed a pack of crackers out of the vending machine for breakfast before heading to my first class, where I arrived twenty minutes early. The fact that Kristin thought I was fantasizing about Ron had me completely out of sorts. What if she said something to him? I’d never be able to return to Mr. Edmonds’ class.

The morning passed in a blur and before I knew it I was in my literature class. I got there before Ron and didn’t look up when he slid into the seat next to me, instead focusing on making a last minute check of the paper that was due today.

“I see you’re ready for this,” Ron whispered to me as Mr. Edmonds sailed into the room.

I offered him a terse smile and directed my attention to the professor, who was writing something on the white board, but I could feel Ron’s presence next to me. You’re just being silly. There’s nothing going on here.

Still, when Mr. Edmonds asked everyone to pass their papers forward, Ron’s hand brushed mine and I had a moment of panic as I wondered if it was intentional.

“Okay, people, now for something that will no doubt please the male population of the class, the next book we’ll focus on is Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Has anyone already read it?”

“Finally,” Ron muttered as half the class raised their hands. “Does seeing the movie count?” he asked after the hands went down, earning him a few chuckles.

“Which one, Mr. Beechman?” Mr. Edmonds asked. “There have been several adaptations of the book in film, some more accurate than others, but none will reflect the quality of Shelley’s prose. For the purpose of this class, I’d advise you to read the book rather than rely on the movies. But since you brought it up, let’s discuss some of the themes of the story. I’m especially interested in hearing from those of you who have actually read the book.”

He began to write on the board as students called out ideas. I opened my notebook to take notes, careful to page past my sketches, though I noticed Ron glancing over to watch me out of the corner of my eye. He opened his own notebook and reached over to nudge me, pointing to what looked like a new drawing. It appeared to be a cross between a griffin and a gargoyle.

“I did it last night,” he whispered.

I nodded, trying to keep my attention on the class, but I couldn’t escape the effect of his eyes on me, no doubt waiting for a reaction. I finally smiled and said, “It’s really good.”

“Did you have something to add, Ms. Landon?” Mr. Edmonds asked.

I realized he was talking to me and blushed. “Excuse me?”

“Did you have a theme to add to the discussion?”

Think, I urged myself. “Um, the dangers of technology?”

“A concern that translates to our world today, wouldn’t you agree?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Can you give an example?”

Why was he picking on me, I wondered. “The current advances in AI?”

“Very good. One of Shelley’s main themes was man using technology to play god. Many people are afraid of that happening with AI.”

When he moved on to someone else, I exhaled and tried to ignore the smirk on the face of the man at my side. He didn’t bother me any more in class, but he stuck to my side when I rose to leave.

“That AI thing was quick thinking,” he said when we emerged in the hallway. “So I take you’ve already read the book?”

I nodded. “When I was fifteen.”

“That early, huh?”

“I, uh, had a friend who was into dark literature.” I stopped myself; that was more than I wanted to admit to anyone. I never talked about Poe.

“Myra!”

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