Page 30 of Wicked Games

I had lost it. It was one of the times I was moved without warning… All that time, I thought a foster sibling had taken it, or the parents tossed it.

He stole it.

He brought it back here, set it on my dresser in a house that hasn’t been touched in seven years.

Who’s pretending now?

Chapter 9

Margo

Iexpected, on my return to school Monday morning, to be bombarded with ugly stares and horrible comments whispered under their breath. Teenage bullying at its finest.

Nothing happens.

No one does a fucking thing.

“Is it me, or are we blending in more than usual?” Riley asks me.

“Um…” I shrug helplessly. I spot Ian down the hall, talking to Amelie and another cheerleader, but I’m not about to open that can of worms by asking either of them. I’d have to assume the video is gone, a fact that Riley confirms by trying to search for it. But not only that, all residual conversationaboutit, which would normally keep such a thing floating in gossip circles for at least a few days, are nonexistent.

“Let’s hope it keeps up,” Riley says. “See you at lunch.”

Homeroom is quick, and then I hurry to first period. Not that I’mina hurry to get there, I just don’t want to be caught lingering in the halls, alone, for the other shoe to drop.

I slip through the clusters of students like a ghost, and it leaves my skin prickling with anticipation.

In the first period class, history, my gaze lands on Caleb. He leans against my usual desk, and he’s already spotted me. His expression is heated, and a smirk curls at his lips.

He’s proud of himself. It leaves me rattled. With conviction, I know he did this. I’d bet money that he made the video disappear. Still, how he erased it from everyone’s eyeballs is a whole other issue.

How did he persuade an entire student body to forget?

“Good morning, little lamb.”

My spine is ramrod straight.

Without acknowledging him, I take a different seat. Ian’s, in fact.

Savannah glances at me and opens her mouth, then seems to change her mind. A second later, someone leans over me.

“I don’t much like being ignored,” Caleb says.

“I don’t much like being made a fool.”

“They took you back.” He puts his elbows on the desk.

Our faces are inches apart—but I’m not going to back down from this challenge. My gaze goes from his eyes to his lips and back again.

I’ve called him many things in my head.

Demon.

Monster.

Bully.

The most accurate?Devil.

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