Page 9 of Monster Made
“You’re an odd-numbered group,” had droned the old, boring teacher as I hesitated between a bad prospect and a worse one. “That means one of you will have to work alone.”
Working alone had sounded ideal, even though it would have meant flunking the class, because I can’t figure out even basic science to save my life. But then, out of the corner of my eye,I saw Quill’s homicidal gaze glued to me, and something like foreboding twisted in my stomach.
A feeling he confirmed a moment later when he said, “I choose Piper.”
I froze, feeling everyone’s surprised eyes on me. Had he really justvolunteeredto be my partner? Why? So he could make my life evenmorehellish? Better yet, kill me and claim it was a science experiment gone wrong?
“I’ll work with Cass,” I blurted out, and she raised a surprised, perfectly tweezed eyebrow.
“Fine,” she shrugged as I hurriedly slid into the seat next to her.
Quill leaned back against his chair nonchalantly, the darkness swirling in his eyes the only thing betraying how pissed off he was.
I definitely paid for that moment later that day.
But it was worth it to not have to deal with him as my lab partner for the rest of the year.
Cass isn’t much better, though, I’m reminded as I slide into my seat next to her. I repress a yawn as she opens up her notebook to reveal perfectly taken notes which she’s highlighted with different-colored highlighters.
“Ew,” I say, looking at a drop of red liquid on a slide she’s currently examining under a microscope. “Is thatblood?”
She shrugs, clearly believing it to be beneath her to talk to me.
“What are we doing looking atblood?” I question, wrinkling my nose.
“You’d know it if you got here a little earlier,” she says at last, leaning back. “Seriously, Piper, you’re the deadest weight I’ve ever carried.”
I shrug back at her. It doesn’t make a difference whether I’m here or not, that’s how useless I am in science. I definitely do take full advantage of the fact that the teacher doesn’t care abouttardiness to take my time in getting here. Between sitting next to condescending, perfect Cass, and right in front of Quill, whose eyes seem to be permanently drilling a hole into the center of my back, all while having to deal with the most boring subject known to man, these three hours are pure torture.
She slides the microscope over to me. “Your turn.”
I glance into the ocular lens. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”
“You should really pay more attention in class,” she chides me. “Don’t you want to get into a good college? Oh right,” she adds after a beat. “You can’t afford to, anyway.”
I flip her off, then regret it, since Quill definitely saw that. Goosebumps ripple over my back as I wonder why that should matter. It’s not like he cares, right? About either Cass or me? So why do I get the sinking feeling I just made him furious?
Whywouldn’the be furious, though, since it feels like just breathing in his general vicinity is enough to anger him?
I grit my teeth, the lump stabbing at my throat having nothing to do with either fear of him or anger at Cass’s cruel words.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the strangled sort of sensation that rises from my chest to the back of my throat is... heartbreak.
Heartbreak, when I allow my mind to wander back to my childhood delusion. The boy I once imagined was my silent protector. Yeah, right.
Somehow, today, the lump doesn’t end at my throat. It keeps rising, turning my face splotchy red on the way to the bridge of my nose, where it draws a tear from my eye.
I try to hide my embarrassing reaction by shoving my face against the ocular lens of the microscope, but Cass has already been pulling it to her side. She glances at my face, and something like remorse twists her mouth into a frown.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quickly. “I just meant…well…”
“I’m poor,” I finish off for her, trying to keep the tears from my voice. “I don’t actually care, Cass. I have allergies.”
“Sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I just think it’s a shame that you don’t try. You could get a scholarship—”
“I’ll have you know that I’m very good in English,” I huff, watching her scribble a few words in her notebook. “I’m definitely trying for a scholarship.”
“Right.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Have you ever thought of going for anon-useless degree?”
