Page 40 of Snake

Nim

I’m a scatterbrained wreck in my accounting class, and Mr. Dixon notices. Mason really threw me for a loop back there. I knew someone was following me, but I didn’t know what to expect when they finally caught up with me. Another pillowcase over my head? More chocolates? One of them pushing me up against the wall and having their way with me, whether I was whispering yes or yelling no?

Mason wanting to hug me never even got on the list. But God, it felt good. Not being hugged against my will, of course, but being in his powerful arms again.

It sucks, because I know I’m the one who ensured that will never happen again. Not unless I go back on my word. And there’d have to be a very good reason for me to want to do that. Loving the way Mason smells, or the soft rumble in the back of his throat when he holds me—that’s not good enough.

When the bell rings, Mr. Dixon calls me to his desk.

“Sir?”

“I can’t say I’m happy about your choice,” Mr. Dixon says.

I don’t know why, but I’m convinced he’s talking about the ultimatum I handed the Serpents. I stare at him. “Huh?”

His mouth thins at this. “Mr. Miller informed me you no longer wanted him to tutor you. However, Grace Wyatt is a suitable replacement. You should be glad he could convince her to give you some of her time this semester. But in my opinion, Mr. Miller would have been a much better fit.” My teacher sniffs. “Most students would give their right leg to be tutored by him.”

Not if they knew how psychotic he was.

I turn on my heel without replying to Mr. Dixon, because I’m not sure if I’ll start screaming or sobbing. Honest to God, I shouldn’t keep second-guessing myself like this. No good could come of any kind of relationship I try to have with those three savages. They’ve proved repeatedly that they only have their own interests at heart. Why on earth would they change for me?

Because they already have.

That sinister little voice has no place in my head, so I shove it out. It’s wrong, anyway. The Serpents haven’t changed. Just because they listened, and they’ve kinda been avoiding me, doesn’t mean they’ve suddenly transformed into decent human beings.

If they could have changed, they would have done it before I came along.

Grace Wyatt? I understand why Silas can’t tutor me anymore—I mean, he couldn’t, if he was to leave me alone like I’d instructed him to—but why did he choose my replacement? Is this another way to control me, or—

“You must beWinters,” a dreary voice behind me announces.

I turn and give the girl behind me a double take. She’s short, and slight, and her uniform sits on her like a doll’s dress. One hand pushes up a pair of spectacles, the other toys with the edge of her pussy cat bow.

“And...you must be Grace.”

She’s not surprised that I know who she is. But I think that’s literally because she doesn’t give a fuck. She studies me for a moment. Not because I’m interesting, but as if cataloging me, and hands me a folded sheet of paper. “These are the times I’m available. I suggest we meet three times a week, every other day. You circle the times that suit you, and I’ll put together a schedule.”

If schedules, or tutoring, or being alive excites her in the least, she doesn’t show it.She’d make a terrific poker player, but she’d probably find high-stakes gambling too boring.

“So, uh, Grace. I think there’s been a bit of a misunder—”

“Miller said—”

“Yeah, see, I don’t have any money. So, while I’m sure you’re a good tutor...” I try to hand back the paper, but she doesn’t take it, so I stand there holding it like an idiot.

“I’ve already been paid.” And now, finally, there’s something other than disinterest on her face. A flash of satisfaction, possibly even a touch of pride. “They booked me for the entire semester.”

They.

I can’t push my nose any higher into the air. “Sorry to have wasted your time, Grace, but I don’t need a tutor. And I don’t need theirmoney.”

Grace looks at the schedule, then back at me, the hand toying with her pussy cat bow freezing. “I’ve already spent the money. So we do the lessons, or we don’t, but there’s no way I’m returning my laptop when it gets here.”

My mouth is open as she turns and walks away. I don’t know if I’m shocked that she’s so insistent for someone who has had no fucks to give since she was twelve, or because a semester of tutoring around here costs the same as a new laptop.

No. I’m not shocked at all.

I’m pissed off.

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