Page 4 of Bad Blood

Billie

“Hi, I’m Isabelle,” says the dark-haired girl standing by Principal Kolyav’s office.

She’s slightly taller than me, with a willowy frame.

Stepping away from the wall, she smiles at me as I approach and puts out one dainty hand with perfectly-manicured fingers to shake mine.

Warily, I shake her hand briefly. After my encounter with the demon from hell just now and the weird looks I received from pretty much everyone else, I don’t know what to expect from her.

I assumed I was going into the principal’s office, but that might not be the case.

“Hi, I’m Billie.”

“Good to meet you.”

Well, if she thinks it’s good to meet me, then she might not be as viperous as everyone else. She’s also not looking at me like I’m the scum of the earth, so that has to count for something.

“You too.” Looking her over, I decide she appears harmless enough.

Isabelle has a Goth-like Lolita style that suits her delicate features.

“I’m supposed to show you around.” She lifts a shoulder. “I also have these for you.” She hands me a file and a set of locker keys.

“Thanks. I thought I was going to meet the principal.”

Not that I’m overly keen to meet him, I just want to report what happened between that guy and me. I can’t allow something like that to slide. That asshole grabbed my neck and threatened me. I don’t care who he is, nobody does that to me and gets away with it. He just caught me off guard.

Perhaps I should find out who the asshole is first, however, before I report him. It would be best to have a name.

Maybe Isabelle can help with that. I’ll wait for the right moment to ask. Or maybe I’ll see him again and point him out.

“My dad—Principal Kolyav is my father.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “He double-booked. So, you got stuck with me.”

“I hope that’s not a bad thing.” I lift a nervous brow and rock back on my heels.

“Nope. Not at all.” She lifts her chin a little higher and rivets her gaze to mine. “I’m not a sheep. I make my own rules.”

At her comment, a light of understanding passes between us that instantly puts me at ease, and I feel that maybe, just maybe, I might make it here for whatever time I need.

The recollection of what I plan to do to get myself away from this life makes me shudder, but I push the thought to the back of my mind.

“I really appreciate that.”

“I thought you would. Want to start with the tour?”

“Sure.”

“Cool, we’ll be passing your locker on the way.”

She tilts her head to the side, motioning for me to follow her, so I do, and we proceed down the glossy hallway, which doesn’t look that much different from Portman High in L.A. The floors here are marble, though.

Marble in a school—it says a lot.

For the next few hours, Isabelle shows me around, gives me a tour of the school and grounds, and talks excitedly about the classes she’ll be taking this year. She’s an artist and will be pursuing an art degree when she goes to college.

I have my heart set on UCLA. Because of Mom’s refusal to do anything I want, only my crazy plans can get me there.

Isabelle and I bond over anime, and I find out I was right about the whole Lolita thing. She adores it and loves many of the same shows I do.

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