Page 65 of Vile Bastards
Huh.
Interesting take. I suppose it makes about as much sense as anything. Why would they ever assume a bunch of high schoolers would care about an ugly skyrise? They really have no idea the level of interest most Prescott kids have in their community.
“Officially?” I ask, and Jennifer pauses, going as still as a deer in the headlights. She’s terrified of me, and I haven’t been particularly nice to her, so it makes sense. I almost feel bad about it. Except she was too busy fucking her man to notice Widow lurking around the lumberyard. “I mean, has Valeria Navarro been officially charged with anything?” That woman, she’s the chairwoman for the nonprofit group Housing Dignity for Lane County. I bet she’s a real pain in Mayor Kelly’s ass.
I worry about her safety, to be honest.
Jennifer swallows her gum before answering, reaching up to tuck some brown hair behind her ear.
“Not officially, no. It’s just what everyone thinks.”
I pause for a second to mull that over, nod, and then turn away. Widow catches up with me as I head down the hallway, scattering students as we go. Next time we meet up with Emma Jean (Emma Lee), I’ll drop Valeria’s name and Jennifer’s rumor, just to see what she says.
I have yet to tell anyone outside my inner circle that the city’s current plans include selling the piece of public property that the racetrack sits on to Archer Realty so that they can turn it into a ‘gentlemen’s racing club’.
Technically, it’s still a campground and a park. Doesn’t that seem fucked? How can the city just sell public land to a private developer so that said developer can rake in cash at the expense of the community? What do we get in exchange for that deal?
An unlubricated wooden dildo full of splinters right up the ass, that’s what.
I part from Widow at the door to my classroom, but there’s something in his gaze that tells me our interaction from this morning isn’t over. Just to prove my point, I wear his jacket for the entirety of the day—Bohnes gnashes his teeth at the sight of it but says nothing—and then take it off just before I enter the library.
I toss the jacket over my shoulder as I waltz in, hips swaying in cocky exaggeration.
“Oh, Scarlett,” Agnes says, laughing as she points at her own shirt. It’s a regular t-shirt, if a bit oversized, with a large cherry print on the front. “Look at us, we match.”
“So we do, again!” I reply with a laugh, pointing at my see-through blouse with the black lace bra underneath. “Last time, it was the cardigan. This time, it’s cherries. We’re practically twins.”
“You’re such a sweet lamb.” Agnes pats my cheek with a pleasantly warm and dry palm before handing over a cart of newly returned books for me to shelve. “I’ll bring you some of my homemade chicken soup tomorrow; it freezes well.”
“Thank you, Agnes,” I call out, offering Mildred up a wave as she smiles at me from behind the librarian’s desk. Before I even push the cart into the shadowy aisle at the back of the library, I know that I’m still being hunted.
“You took the jacket off.” Widow appears behind me, blocking me into the aisle with all the dead lightbulbs above it. Not sure whose job it is to change them out, but it’s been gloomy in here for as long as I can remember.
I toss the jacket on top of the cart and then turn around to look at him, leaning my back against the metal handle.
“Of course I did. You think I should cover my body because you’re jealous? That’s some fucked-up cult shit right there. Check your motivations, Adrian.”
“How is it that you’re so chummy with a bunch of old women?” he asks, sounding baffled. “Sweet lamb? Do they have any idea who you are?”
“They know I do my work without complaining, that I take their reading suggestions seriously, and that I bake and cook for them on occasion. What else is there to know?” I turn around on purpose, and Widow steps close to me.
He’s been diligently throwing himself into his work recently, acting as if he doesn’t notice me brushing up against him, putting my tits in his face, or bending over right in front of him. I’m getting really fucking sick of all these stupid boys, and their stupid resistance to my womanly charms. And believe you me, I’ve got them. I am charming as fuck.
“I have something to tell you,” he says, standing so close behind me that his heat sears my skin through the sheer fabric of my top. I just want him to touch me, but he’s playing hard to get and goddamn it, but it makes him just that much more attractive. “I had a camera in my car the day you went out there and jacked off in it.”
