Page 60 of Snake

Vicky, my mom and dad, and three other students. Two boys, one girl. They all have their arms around each other, grinning into the shot. There’s another person in the background, but it’s obvious he wasn’t meant to be in the photo.

“This was taken by the stables?” I ask, taking the photograph from her. There’s nothing written on the back, but I recognize the big barn and the layout of the trees from when I was there with Knox. The three men are in polo uniforms, and the girls in slightly more dated versions of the Academy’s black jumper dress, all with pussy cat bows. Mom’s hair was cut short with a flip at the end, like Veronica from the Archie comics.

“The guys were polo stars,” Vicky says, her voice thick with nostalgia. “Your father had the best swing I’d ever seen, Nim.”

“He never told me he played polo,” I tell her, frowning.“I didn’t even know he liked horses.”

Vicky’s only answer is a shrug. But her eyes keep returning to the photo. Like people can’t help themselves staring at a car crash.

It’s a wild stab in the dark, but something tells me I might hit something vital. “Are my sponsors in this photo?”

There’s a flicker of surprise on Vicky’s face before a smile replaces it. It seems everyone in Cinderhart has a mask all of their own. Vicky’s is a warm curve of her lips.

“Yes, they are.” My heart skips a beat, and then races as if to make up for it.

She runs her finger along the line of faces. “All three of us are here.”

I open my mouth to ask their names, but she interrupts me. “Do you want to meet them?”

My frantically beating heart sinks into my stomach. I manage a nod, though.

Vicky brightens. “Good. Because they’ve invited us for lunch on Sunday.”

I want to ask her their names, but it wouldn’t mean anything to me, anyway. I only know a handful of last names, and none of those could be my sponsors.

Also, there’s something else bugging me now.

“And him?” I ask, pointing at a familiar figure lurking in the background. It’s like he photobombed the crowd of happy young children. He’s at least six or seven years older than my father, with a scruffy haircut and overalls that manual laborers used to wear back then. He’s staring at the crowd with a strange look on his face. Familiar, like he’s used to seeing them around, but also strangely stand-offish.

His black eyes are fixated one-hundred percent on Vicky. I shudder a little. I’d get creeped out if someone looked at me like that.

“Him? That’s Lorenzo.” Vicky sniffs, shoving the photo back into the stack. Then she closes the lid and puts the lid back on, handing it to me. “Here. This is yours.” She sounds almost relieved to be rid of the memories, and when I look up at her, her blue eyes are sparkling. “I have to go help the girls.”

“Your husband Lorenzo?”

She purses her lips. “Not everyone has the luxury of choosing their spouses,” she says briskly. “You should be glad we don’t do that around here anymore.”

I rush to my feet, but she’s already out the door. When I run out into the hall, the only person who’s there is Knox.

“What did you say to her?” he asks roughly, stalking over to me. “She was in tears.”

“I didn’t—” But I cut off when I realize just the mention of Lorenzo’s name must have sent her into hysterics. Knox said she was on some heavy medication because of the trauma she suffered under Lorenzo’s hand. I guess saying his name was a trigger she wasn’t expecting from someone like me.

Or…does she know what happened to him? Was her reaction less about trauma and more about guilt?

Knox’s mouth twitches as he runs an irritated hand through his hair. He still hasn’t dyed it back to its original color. Because he hasn’t had the time, or because he’s making some kind of statement?

“That’s a good color on you.” I quirk my eyebrows. “Brings out your eyes.”

He ignores my comment. “Did she tell you?”

I lift my nose up at him. “So what if she did?”

His eyes narrow. “She didn’t. And you never asked. Why, Nim? Why don’t you want to know?”

I sniff at him. “Because I didn’t want to spoil my evening.” I hold out my arm, glancing upstairs before locking eyes with him. “I assume that red Valentine dress is mine?”

He grimaces when I mispronounce Valentino, taking up my arm a touch too snugly for it to be comfortable. “After you, my Lady.”

I keep back a smile as he leads me up the stairs.

He couldn’t have heard what Vicky and I spoke about. And so what if I don’t know their names? I’m meeting them on Sunday. After that, I’ll decide if I want anyone else to know.

All depends on what state our relationship is in by then.

Because if I’m still enemies with the Serpents come Sunday, there’s no way in hell I’m letting them in on my secret.

---