Page 86 of Spearcrest Knight

No matter how much I appreciate that he chose not to tell them what I’ve done, they would have died from the shame of it, and he was just sparing them from that shame.

The shame of my actions.

The shame ofme.

In a way, this was bound to happen. Someone at some point would have seen me at the café. If anything, it’s a miracle I got away with it for so long. In a way, I’m almost relieved: no more secrets, no more sneaking around. I’ll have more time for my schoolwork, which is getting overwhelming, and all the things I’ve been neglecting, like my running and my neglected extracurriculars.

By the time my sobs finally ebb away and my tears stop flowing, I’m a lot calmer. The sadness and humiliation and shock fade away, leaving only anger in their wake.

No, not anger.

Fury.

A cold, hard fury, that turns my insides to ice and hardens my heart until it’s a rock in my chest.

I stand up and face the mirror. My eyes, nose and cheeks are scarlet, the skin puffy and shiny. I daub cold water onto my face, cooling away the redness. I smooth back my hair, fix my uniform and check my watch. It’s morning break, and I know exactly where to find Evan at this time of day.

The sixth form rec room is next to the dining hall; a long room full of low, cosy sofas, a TV set and some games. It’s meant to be a place for sixth formers to relax and socialise in their free time, but it’s long been claimed by the Young Kings, who hold court there and receive the tributes of their sycophants.

The sound of music and laughter fills the room when I stride into it, but my attention is focused, my icy anger urging me on.

I spot Evan straight away.

It’s not hard, because as usual he's the centre of attention, and as usual, it’s by doing something stupid.

He’s in the middle of the circle of armchairs and couches, with two chairs on either side of him. He’s using the chairs to prop his hands on and hopping into some sort of elevated handstand, and then trying to do push-ups.

His top drops down to reveal his unnecessarily hard abs. Of course, he’s not even wearing the proper school uniform. Instead, he’s wearing a soft, sky-blue sweatshirt on top of his school shirt.

The Christmas present I got him.

As I approach the centre of the room, I hope that he somehow slips and falls on his face, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lands gracefully on his feet and receives his applause and cheers with a bow and a flourish. When he stands back up, his eyes catch mine.

He grins.

“Oh, if it isn’t Prefect Sutton. What brings you here today?”

My anger flares to life, I’m so irate my hands are shaking. “You know exactly what brings me here today.”

“I’m assuming you’ve had a change of heart about the tutoring,” he says, tilting his head with a smirk.

“I could tutor you every day of your life and you would still be the most stupid person in the room wherever you go,” I spit out.

I’m just being hurtful out of anger, but I’m desperate to wipe the smirk off his smug face. The room seems to have disappeared around us, everything replaced by a cold white fog of anger, and in the middle of the fog is Evan, crystal-clear, with his unbearable smile.

A smile which widens slowly as he speaks with soft, quiet confidence. “You’re still going to do it, though, since you don’t have a choice anymore.”

Even though I already knew it was him who reported me, his subtle confirmation makes obvious his complete lack of regret. He betrayed my trust easily, shamelessly—the same way he did the first time.

I’m the complete idiot for falling for the same trick twice.

“You’re such a fucking coward.” My voice is so low it's almost a whisper.

Finally, his smile falters, a crack in his facade of nonchalant arrogance. He steps forward, right up to me, almost intimidating, and hisses, “I’m the coward?”

Heat floods my cheeks and I’m stopped in my tracks. He’s too close, the heat of him and the cold of my anger meeting, misting, fogging up my mind. “I—I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“For someone who values honesty so highly, you sure do love lying to yourself.”