Page 2 of Snake

Nim

Istare at the hot dog I assembled at the buffet line, already regretting my decision. I definitely shouldn’t have gone with all the toppings, but how can I say no to a hot dog buffet? They had other stuff there like roast beef and veggies, but I’d never forgive myself for not trying one of their footlongs.

Romi hasn’t arrived at the cafeteria yet. I’m low-key terrified that she won’t, that she’s left me alone amidst all the whispering and stares and them.

They’re sitting a few benches away. Silas has his back to me, but I have a clear sight of Mason and Knox. They’re watching me like I’m the most interesting person in Cinderhart Academy.

I don’t know whether to feel proud or wary of the attention. I mean, I got them to release me...but at a cost.

Guess it was a slow news day because from the looks everyone I pass in the halls gives me, word has already spread that I’m accompanying the three of them to the Feast of Ashes dance on Friday.

I sigh, gather up my overloaded hot dog, and cram it into my mouth. I’d best gobble this down as soon as possible so I can scurry back to my room in case Romi doesn’t show up. It’s not as if the Serpents haven’t publicly humiliated me in the past. Sitting here by myself paints me as an easy target.

A blob of mustard dribbles down my chin, and I hurriedly grab a napkin to dab it up, locking eyes with Mason when I look up.

He’s gawking, his own hot dog hovering halfway between his plate and his mouth. A mouth plastered with such a sinful grin that I squirm in my seat before I can control myself.

I guess some things will never change.

Dropping my eyes, I take another quick bite of my food. God, this dog’s good. Maybe I’m just not used to free food tasting this delicious. Purgatory gave us a meal with every shift we worked, but it was usually something boring, like salad. Guess they didn’t want their staff getting fat.

I miss that place.

I miss Peggy.

I tried calling her yesterday, but she never answered. I’ll try her again later in the week. I just hope she isn’t ghosting me.

When I glance up, Mason is still staring at me. My stomach growls angrily, and I take another bite before it can form a mutiny. Mason watches with crazy intensity as he licks his lips.

Is this some new method of harassment?

I open my mouth wide and cram in the hot dog. Bits of relish and mustard smear over my lips, a piece of pickle sliding down my chin.Boy, I really went to town on these toppings.

Mason sits straight in his seat, dropping his hot dog onto his plate.

What now? Oh God, I’m being gross, aren’t I? I don’t even need the Serpents to humiliate me. I’m doing it all by myself.

Mason leans his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers and setting his chin down on them. Even at this distance, I can see his shoulders lifting as he inhales deep, and dropping when he exhales.

Fuck you, Mason Bennett. If you think you’re trying to make me leave, think again. I’m not starving myself for anyone.

I take another bite. Then another. Eating slowly so I make sure he knows how much I’m enjoying this meal. How his stares aren’t in the least affecting me.

His eyes grow lidded. He touches his thumb to the side of his mouth, slips it inside like he got a touch of sauce on it.I don’t know why, but that simple gesture gets my underwear a little wet.

God, what is wrong with me? Maybe it’s because I’m treating this hot dog like it’s his big, fat—

“Ew, Nim.” Romi pulls a face as she sits opposite me, blocking my view of Mason. “How about you and that hot dog get a room?”

I choke on a diced onion and hurriedly put down what’s left of my lunch and wash down the mess in my mouth with a swallow of soda. “Mason keeps staring at me. Thought I might as well give him a show.”

Romi turns in her seat and gives Mason and Knox the finger.

“Thanks,” I say through a snicker.

“Any time.” She picks a grape from her bowl and pops it into her mouth before toying with the end of her braid. I see her wearing them a lot more these days. In the beginning, it was always ponytails. “So, is it true? You’re really going to the dance with them?”

I wince and drop my eyes to my plate, gingerly dragging a half-eaten pickle from my hotdog. It trails ketchup over the china like a legless soldier leopard crawling away from the site of a grenade blast.

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