Page 5 of The Masks We Wear

I’ve never seen a class of kids so engrossed in their work before the bell has even rung. Everyone’s head is down, shoved in the pages of their journals, their pens working furiously across the paper. None of them even glance up from their notebooks when they hear me walk in.

A small girl with hexagon glasses and inky hair glances my way as I pass before looking back down. After a beat of silence, her head pops back up comically, and she elbows the boy next to her, motioning to me with her chin.

It sets off a chain reaction until all eyes are glued on me, a soft whisper floating around the room.

I’m used to the effects that come with beingQueenof Emerald High, but it doesn’t make it any less cringy.

Trying not to grimace, I stride over to Mr. Jones, who has his face glued to his computer. His eyes flash to me before returning to the screen. Like the four-eyed girl, he does a double-take before standing too abrupt, knocking over what looks to be week-old coffee.

I recoil, terrified the dark liquid will land on my white suede heels, and watch him fumble to clean his mess. “I’m so sorry, Miss Conley.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Jones.” But even so, I take a few cautionary steps backward.

After wiping up most of the coffee, he ambles around the desk, rising to his full height, and straightens a wrinkled candy corn tie.

“Class, I’d like to introduce you to our newest member, Liliana Conley.”

His confirmation that I’m joining the class sends an even louder murmur vibrating through the room, but I ignore it, holding up a hand in a light wave. “Please, just Lily is fine.”

Mr. Jones beams at me, rubbing his stubble. “Of course. I’m going to pair you up with the lad back there.”

He motions to the table on the far left side of the classroom, where the only student who hasn’t looked up is scribbling in his notebook. Mr. Jones leans a little closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “He’s having a hard time adjusting to the idea of a partner, but I know you’ll be able to work it out.”

I raise an eyebrow in question. “Partner?”

He nods. “Didn’t Ms. Bolwig tell you?”

Tilting my head, I wait for him to elaborate. The woman told me a lot, ninety percent of which has already been blocked out for the wellbeing of my mental health.

He shifts back, swallowing hard around his evident discomfort. “You’ll be the fill-in we need for the science competition. We had a student move away.”

My eyes widen of their own accord, and I feel my jaw tic, but I recover quickly, smiling at Mr. Jones. I knew there was a competition, but I didn’t think Ihadto participate.

After granting him a curt nod, I stroll to the back and sit at the edge of the seat, setting my purse on the worn lab table and cross my feet at the ankle. A perfect ladies pose.

As if he’s just realized I’ve entered the room, Spencer’s mesmerizing brown eyes collide with mine.

THREE

Lily’s pupils constrict under the light, letting her natural brown color peek from beneath the contacts. It’s the first I’ve seen of them since middle school—when I knew her better than I knew myself.

It was a time when her eyes were the light leading me out of my dark ass cave. But that Liliana has come and gone, leaving nothing but a cutout of a basic bitch with a bad attitude namedLily.

I scoff, clenching my teeth at the thought of all the lost time I spent on her during those summers. I could have been with my mom or studying more, hell, maybe even learning a fucking sport. Either way, mytimeis the one thing she won’t be able to waste again.

Staring back down at my journal, I shift my shoulders away from her. Maybe if I ignore her long enough, she’ll get the hint. Might even get lucky, and she’ll go away.

A moment of silence passes before Lily dips her head low, tilting it to read my scribbles. I move my body, so I can’t even see her in my peripherals. I hope she feels the heat radiating from me and backs off, but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“So, what are we working on, Spence?”

I’m not sure which word pisses me off more. The way she holds the last syllable of my name and sounds like a fucking snake or the fact she said we, as if I wouldactuallyconsider letting her help me with my project.

Damn Maurice for moving.

I don’t look at her, but hiss my words to match her reptilian tone. “Don’t think I’m letting you lay a finger on this project.”

Her chair scrapes across the tile, forcing me to glance over my shoulder at her. Her small nose is scrunched as if she’s smelled something grotesque, and I have to bite back a laugh of satisfaction. I’m sure she’s not used to being talked back to by any of her minions. Or anyone in the school, for that matter. I’ve only been back for two months, but it doesn’t take long to learn what the school thinks of Lily Conley.

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