Page 21 of Kingmakers, Year Three

“Get fucked!” Lola barks, only quieting down when Professor Penmark shoots her a look telling her to pipe it so he can continue with his lecture.

I pass the rest of class wondering if I should have just answered Lola’s questions. I could have let her win—it would have been easier.

The other half of me rebels against that idea.

Why does Lola get to be aggressive and cruel, and I just have to roll over and take it?

I saw my opening and I went for it.

Was it a little mean?

Maybe. But that’s why we’re here—to learn how to get what we want.

And in that moment, I wanted to win.

Class ends, and Rakel and I gather up our bags.

Dixie Davis slams into me as she passes, almost dislocating my shoulder.

“Watch it,” she says.

Lola tosses her hair over her shoulder, still fuming.

“Gonna hold onto that one, isn’t she?” Rakel says, watching them stalk off down the hall.

“Apparently,” I sigh.

“Well, good thing we only have pretty much every single class with them,” Rakel laughs, giving me a friendly punch on the very same shoulder Dixie just tried to destroy.

I follow Rakel down the stairs, already losing any sense of pleasure earned by my win.

Fuck me. I’ve gone and made another enemy.

Why can I not go five goddamned minutes without getting myself in trouble?

I’m so consumed by my own thoughts that I run right into Dean Yenin waiting for me outside the Keep.

I know he’s waiting for me by the way he grabs the front of my shirt and lifts me up off my feet, totally unsurprised by my appearance.

“Watch where you’re going,Cat,” he hisses into my face.

“Let go of her,” Rakel says.

“Fuck off, Black Death,” Dean snarls at her.

“Eat shit, Zack Morris,” Rakel sneers back at him.

“Rakel!” I gasp, half-choked by Dean’s grip on my collar. “Just . . . go on without me.”

She stares at me like I’m speaking Swahili.

“Please!” I wheeze. “Just go.”

She looks between Dean and me for several seconds. Then she narrows her eyes and says, “Fine. If that’s what you want.” She heads off to the dining hall without me.

Dean releases his grip on my shirt so I can breathe again.

“That’s better,” he says softly.

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