Page 29 of A Heart of Bluestone

Not that it matters.

Battle is headed my way regardless of the reason.

Anxiety is quick to pool in my tummy.

Time to get the fuck out of here.

I slide my elbow to Courtney. “Back to the dorm?”

“Hm?” is all the answer I get, and she turns a page on the atlas. So she noticed I wasn’t paying the slightest speck of attention to her before, and now it’s time for my punishment. Silent treatment. How juvenile.

I’m hardly in the mood for it tonight.

I reach for the books settled on the seat over. But as my fingers graze the spines, I hear the subdued sound of snickers and scoffs.

The hairs prickle all over my body.

I know that sound.

I recognise choked laughter—and what it means.

My gaze swerves up. I stare, wild-eyed, at the table of Snakes.

Dray’s face has darkened, like his mood, and the clench of his jaw has tightened, but he isn’t looking at me.

He is lookingaboveme.

Slowly, I lift my chin and trace his attention up.

Just inches from my head, a tray hovers over the table. It floats, and with each uneasy sway, the jelly substances on it wobbles. Gooey chocolate custard and butterscotch sauce and mushy apples.

The tray isn’t meant for me.

I know that because it’s moving past me, over my head, and right for Courtney in the chair beside mine.

I lunge for her.

My hands smack her square in the chest, and she’s thrown off her seat. Her chair topples with her a split second before the tray comes clattering down.

It knocks off the edge of the table, flipping around, and sprays the dessert sauce and goo all over.

James falls back.

My legs tangle on my own chair, and I slam down on the wooden floorboards, my hip and elbow taking most of the hit.

I wince, sharp, through my teeth.

And rainfall, a storm of applesauce and custard and butterscotch syrup, it all splatters.

Droplets smack me on the cheek, strike at my ponytail, and I feel the drizzle of warm sludgy sauce on my thigh.

I let my eyes shut for a moment, draw in a deep breath that floods my lungs. My nostrils flare around the breath.

I’m notcoveredin the slop.

I hold onto that thought.

It keeps me sane as, slowly, I open my eyes.

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