Page 228 of Vicious Saint
“First of all, why are you and your dad looking through my shit?”
“Your mother insisted he store all your documents in the same drawer as ours.” She rolls her eyes. “I know, gross.”
I can’t reach the freedom of the damn stairs soon enough because there’s no chance Theory will risk breaking a sweat all the way to the eighth floor.
Not even to torture me.
“Is there a moral to this story? Because if so, try telling one to your bestie. She could really use some.”
“Always so quick to judge…” Theory sneers. “Surprising given all the behavioral plans and guidance counselors’ reports about your wicked little temper.”
I freeze in place, shoulders rolling to ease the sudden tension.
Why the hell would my mother keep all of my paperwork?
“And those sad little drawings…”
Whipping around, I shoot a quick glance behind Theory to check for Saint, even though I felt his absence the second I hit the hallway.
“You had no fucking right to look through my personal shit.”
“You really wanna talk about having ‘rights’ to do things?”
My nostrils flare.
“Seems ironic for someone who was obviously bullied as a kid to be a big enough cunt to do it to me.”
“I did notbullyyou, Theory. I said one terrible thing. That’s it. And felt bad about it ever since.”
Heck…even as she continues to be such a conniving brat.
“Doesn’t make it fucking right.”
“Of course it doesn’t. But I’m human. You’re making it like I skinned your damn kitten alive.”
Theory crosses both arms in front of the chest of her jean jacket. “So I’m being dramatic now?”
To be fair not many sixteen year olds aren’t.
But I doubt telling her this will help the animosity.
“All I’m saying is the punishment no longer fits the damn crime.”
“This coming from the one who’s guilty.”
With a deep, drawn out groan, I throw up my hands. “Whatever, dude. I’m done trying. Keep hating me…being spiteful…getting used by Annalie.”
“Annalie isnotusing me. She’s my best friend.”
Oh, how badly I want to scream that the bitch is only pretending to be to get closer to Saint.
Naivety. Another one of Saint’s injustices toward his sister.
If he’d only given Theory a damn chance to escape her bubble, the girl might be able to recognize real from fake.
“No, she’s not.”
“Yeah, well, what the hell do you know?”
