Page 203 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Indi? Prince will be your Lavish Buddy this week. He’ll show you around and help you find all your classes.”

Briar grimaces at that, and my panic flutters into pure ecstasy.

So I guess his first name’s Prince and—just like me—he despises it to the nth degree.

But no one’s staring at him. Everyone is staring at me. And the weight of all those expectant eyes compels me to let out a reluctant, “Thanks.”

“Good.” Ms. Parsons claps her hands. “Time for announcements.”

I glare at the back of her head as she turns to get a clipboard from her desk. I bet bluebirds chirp around her head every morning when she wakes up, and she sings them a goddamn song about what a beautiful day it’s going to be.

Mentally, I do my darndest—but her hair simply fails to catch on fire.

“The chess club has had to reschedule this week’s tournament against Mallhaven High. A new date will be set…”

Briar stands up, and Ms. Parson’s voice fades away as my ears begin to buzz in dread anticipation. He weaves through the desks until he gets to the empty one behind me, and lets his bag fall before dropping his ass in the chair with an audible thump.

“Morning, my little virgin.”

I press my eyes closed. But, alas, along with the inability for me to set someone’s hair on fire, I seem to have lost my talent for time travel and teleportation as well.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest and slouching in my chair as Ms. Parsons starts rattling off the names of the students who were accepted into some or other club.

“Hey, I’m yourbuddy.” The way Briar drawls the word makes my hair stand on end. “I got nothing but good intentions, Angel.”

I glance at him over my shoulder, but somehow he fails to see my scowl.

The cut I gave him last night should have looked horrible, like all puffy and gross and oozing and shit.

Nope. All it does is give his face a roguish charm it doesn’t need.

“Admiring your work?” His full lips curve up as he lifts a hand to finger the cut. He winces dramatically and inhales a hiss. “Buddies shouldn’t cut each other.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I don’t need your help. I have a fucking map.”

“A map?” Briar lets out a low chuckle. “You don’t need a map. You needme.”

He sits forward, lacing his fingers and sliding his elbows over his desk.

“Else how you gonna navigate the valleys and peaks of social class?”

Valleys and peaks? What a douchebag.

“Easy,” I say through a grimace. “If they’re friends with you, then they’re losers and I stay away from them.”

There’s the tiniest tic of a facial muscle near his jaw. He sits back, shaking his head.

“This lack of respect won’t do, my little virgin.” He shows me his teeth, but it’s far from a smile. “It just won’t do at all.”

I bolt out of homeroom as soon as the bell rings. Briar’s still sitting in his chair, looking smug as the Cheshire Cat, by the time I hit the hall and risk a glance back.

Letting out a stale breath, I peek at my schedule.

AP Computer Science.

AP Psychology.

Calculus.

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