Page 16 of Lessons in Cruelty

Great. Here I am, trying not to make a splash, but apparently #havenlee is already trending.

“You’re from out of town, right?” Brown eyes immaculately slicked with gold eyeliner narrow at me. They’re almost exactly the same shade as her rust-red dye job, and it looks intentional.

I huff quietly to myself. Of course she doesn’t recognize me, even though I’ve lived here nearly all my life. People living in Hillside would rather pretend Riversiders don’t fucking exist. All we do is drain the economy and make them uncomfortable when they dare to venture down to the Agony River.

“I went to Ashwood High.”

Her eyes widen. “Huh.”

“Social Change Grant,” I say, because Melissa seems okay and I wouldn’t want her staying up all night wondering how the hell a trailer park rat like me ended up in a nice place like this.

“Ah.”

No wonder she’s only drinking cola for lunch. Limiting your communication to single vowels must really cut down on energy consumption.

I put my books down on the table, trying to look comfortable, even if I’m not. Melissa’s eyes dart to my things. She uses a single finger to drag my pink STFU pad out from under Rooke’s spiral notebook. Then she turns it to face her.

“Hm.”

“What?”

She taps the notepad. “Cute.”

“Pink’s not really my color, but I had limited options.”

Melissa sighs. “This town blows. I get my shit online. But like weeks ahead of time.” She rolls her eyes. “You know our postal system. Swear Mailman Bob’s a crackhead.”

“His name’s Ted, actually, and he’s definitely not a crack head.” I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but the words rush out of me like steam.

When she frowns, I hastily add, “He’s hella sketchy, though.” She’s still frowning, forcing me to look away.

My eyes land on the notebook. The words ‘Activity Log’ are printed on the cover in white. “So what’s up with this? I zoned out when Professor Rooke was explaining it.”

“Rooke…” Melissa sighs, her delicately arched eyebrows lifting as she swaps out my STFU pad for the black notebook our teacher gave me. “Fuuuck.” The last is almost a groan.

I suppress a laugh.

And here I was thinking what a degenerate I am because I think my professor is hot. Maybe every girl, and even some guys edging toward the more bi or pansexual side of the spectrum, has the same reaction. Why wouldn’t they? He’s so damn easy on the eyes, and then there’s that boatload of intelligence, and confidence bordering on arrogance.

He makes every guy I’ve ever known look like an awkward, hopeless teen or a sad, washed-out man.

Except Kai.

And just like that, he’s back in my head again.

Thank God Melissa starts talking, because I’m in no mood to unpack that mess.

“You got what he said about defining cruelty?” She uses the tip of her nude, perfectly manicured fingernail to flip open the cover of the notebook.

“Yup.”

“Great.” She sounds relieved that she doesn’t have to explain it. “So record anything ‘cruel,’” her finger hooks into a mini air quote before she drags it down the lined page, “someone does. Then define it using the three Is.”

Her eyes meet mine as she sits back to sip her cola. “Like Rooke being an ass when you were late.” Her eyes dart back to the book. “Put that in there.”

I purse my lips, take a sip of soda, shrug. “Cruel? Really?”

“His intent was to embarrass you. You looked pissed.” She props her elbow on the table, counting off on her fingers. “Intent. Impact. I interpret that as cruelty. Don’t you?”