Page 4 of Soul of a Psycho

Her hand freezes, and she slowly looks up. Her big eyes widen further, and her face pales. The milky tone of her skin means her flesh goes almost transparent. It accentuates the blue of her veins—so delicate and intricate, running down her jawand neck, splitting off on her chest before they dip and hide underneath her uniform. They make me wonder what it would take to get that blood really flowing. A rumble comes from my chest, and I tuck the bag even further under my seat.No bags for you and your tempting little veins.

She swallows hard and then hisses, “That’s mine.”

“I thought it was mine.” I shrug. “Seeing as how it was inmyspace,” I whisper and turn forward.

From my peripheral, I can see that her bottom lip has fallen, and she’s blinking rapidly, like she doesn’t understand what I’m doing. What the fuckamI doing?

“Did you need something from it?” I feign a disinterested tone, which is ridiculous because I’m obviously very interested or I wouldn’t be holding her bag hostage.

“My book,” she snaps.

“Which one?” I sigh, like I’m the keeper of her things and her needing something is an inconvenience.

I reach down and pull the leather satchel into my lap, waiting for a response. But she seems too stunned to answer, so I take it upon myself to go hunting.

Warmth spreads from my fingertips and up my arm as I root around in the buttery leather. It feels intimate, as if I’m inside of her. But it’s a dumb idea—thinking I can ever get inside her, that, and to blindly dig around in someone’s bag. If she did the same to mine, she might cut herself, but I don’t think I have anything to worry about with this girl’s belongings. She looks like agoodgirl. Part of a cheerleading team maybe, but not a captain. Her eyes are too kind to be captain, her smile too genuine.

I clamp my jaw.

No one is kind.

The fact that I just had to remind myself of that rattles me, and suddenly I don’t want anything to do with this charade. She’s no different than the rest of Hillcrest. I can guarantee it. Iquit messing around and quickly find our social studies book in her bag. I extend it out to her and then roughly toss the satchel at her feet.

I feel her eyes searing into my profile as she gingerly takes the book, and I pull my hood farther over my face so I don’t get burned. Fuck this. Fuck her. Fuck it all.

Chapter Four

Cade

“I’ll come with you,” Bobby says, loping behind me as I push out of the main doors and step into the late afternoon sun.

It’s one of those days where everyone is congregated outside, happy to be done with classes but also exhausted because it’s a Monday. When I was in junior high—a regular school—I could get away from everyone else’s feelings at the end of the day, but when living with them, it’s like having my own issues magnified. I’m done with today, but being here means I’m eight hundred times as done.

“Uh,no, you won’t,” I tell him.

This kid is up my ass no matter where I go. The only time I can get away is when I’m in class, since we don’t share any because he’s a sophomore.Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with sophomores. I have a problem with people.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he keeps following me across the quad.

I stop so abruptly that he bumps into my back, and I have to suck in a calming breath before I turn around.

The absolute mop of brown hair on his head shields most of his eyes, the frizzy curls like static coming from his head. He has a fake nose ring that glints in the sun—no doubt he slipped that on right when the cathedral bell rang—and his round cheeks arered with exertion from trying to keep up with me and my long legs.

“I’m sure, Bobby,” I grit out, trying not to hurt his feelings.

Fucking feelings.

This kid is probably my only friend in this prison—if that—and I’m sure I’m the only person who even remotely attempts to give him the time of day. But I’m the wrong person for him to latch onto. Being associated with me is only going to get him in trouble and have his life turned upside down. It’s also not going to help his case that he seems to be mirroring me, with the nose ring and hair, although my piercings are real (the only way the school is going to get me to take it out during academic hours is if they rip it from my fucking face) and my hair isn’t a style choice, it’s not an image I’m trying to give off, it just is. And Bobby justisn’t.

And that’s exactly why he can’t come with me right now.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I say when his face falls.

I’m going to regret the semi-promise, but I know as much as he may not be at the level I am, he’s just as much of an outcast. His plans for the rest of the evening probably consist of him going back to his room alone, listening to everyone talk and laugh in the halls, and then going to sleep to just do it all over again.

“Okay.” He nods, his face lifting. “Okay, tomorrow.”

Ugh. I can’t stop the growl in the back of my throat as I stalk away from him.

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