Page 30 of Ramsay

“What? Like a psychopath?”

Chuckling, he says, “No. Nothing like that. How did we get so far off-topic? Oliver’s just so smart. He doesn’t always use emotion, for him, life is a science experiment.”

Jesus. “Okay, well, I should get to class. I have, um, homework.”

“Okay, good, good. Education is important,” he says with a happy grin.

Turning away, I heave a sigh only to look back when he calls out, “Willow? Just, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Nodding past the lump in my throat, I escape down the hall and into the bathroom. For whatever reason, Mr. Goodlow’s compassion brings forth emotions that have been hovering in my subconscious, and I’m not ready to feel them.

It’s hard enough knowing she’s gone, probably dead. I don’t need to talk about it or rehash it for others. This is my pain, and no one deserves to see it.

Regardless, I will not break down here and after giving myself a mental pep talk, I head to class, ignoring the stares and salacious comments from my peers.

My first period is history, and Sabrina is in the class after mine. Since Mr. Connor is a dinosaur and blind as a bat, it’s easy to trade out the homework she wrote for a different version. I’ve had plenty of time to analyze her handwriting since she made me do a few last-minute assignments for her in the past. Bitch.

Mr. Connor always leaves our graded homework in a file on his desk, and after retrieving mine with hers attached, I slip in the new version and walk away, no one the wiser.

Unfortunately, I won’t be here to see her reaction, but if I’m lucky, she’ll worry about it for the rest of the damn day.

When lunch rolls around, I sit back and watch, waiting for her to appear, smirking when she stomps into the cafeteria with a snarl and slams around the room. Grabbing her food with a bang of her tray, she slams said tray on the table by her friends, who all jump and turn away before she slams her way through her meal while they stare at her with caution.

Grinning into my soda, I envision the look on her face when she pulled out her homework, and the words were backward and misplaced.

I'm distracted from my thoughts though when Dixie of the pink hair drops into the seat across from me with a curious stare. She says nothing and I raise my brow in question.

“So, you hate Sabrina?” She asks.

“Bitch can die for all I care,” I snarl.

She studies me for another minute or two before saying, “Meet me after school.”

“Why?”

“You want to bring Sabrina down. You need to go to the source of all her pain,” she says, her lips curving in a mischievous smile.

“Which is what?” I ask suspiciously. I mean, she’s coming out of nowhere. Why?

“Penny Loughlin.”

My brows practically jump off my head at Penny’s name. I know she no longer attends Sterling because of Sabrina’s cruelty. “Color me interested, but why are you helping me?”

“Penny’s my sister,” she says, waggling her brows.

Okay, then.

∞∞∞

I manage to avoid the Sinners and Sabrina for the remainder of the day, and I’m on the way to the parking lot with a spring in my step when I’m waylaid by Ramsay.

My good mood fizzles like air leaking from a balloon and with a scowl, I say, “What now?”

Of course, he smirks. He’s got the look perfected, and I’m annoyed when it makes me tingle, enough to snarl, “You practice that shit in front of a mirror?”

His grin only widens, and I glower at his pleasure because getting to this one isn’t easy. I suspect Diem abhors violence against women, and it would seem Oliver’s weak spot is his dad. But what’s Ramsay’s? Does he feel anything beneath that cold exterior?

“I heard a rumor,” Ramsay says, glancing over me swiftly.

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