Page 11 of Hateful
He’d gone into a frenzy, the details of which still seem blurry in my head. I know what he was thinking of doing. I know he wanted to hurt me, to humiliate me … but he didn’t.
Not entirely, anyway.
Not before he was startled out of his rage and the shame of what he was trying to do overwhelmed him.
I just didn’t expect that shame to last. Not with Jasper. Not when I’ve seen the things he’s capable of in just a few short months.
My stomach clenches as we enter the assembly hall and I catch Jasper out of the corner of my eye. To my surprise, his eyes meet mine for just a moment before he wrenches them away, pulling Heath and Beck with him as he marches in the opposite direction as I’m heading. I should be okay with that, right? I should be glad he’s avoiding me.
But it stings.
It feels like I’ve been cast aside. But cast aside by … what?
“Oh look, it’s Neville.” Beside me, Rafael grabs my arm and starts tugging me across the assembly hall to a group of seats near the nerdiest-looking boy I’ve ever seen. He smiles shyly at us as we slide in beside him.
“Hey, Rafael,” Neville says quietly.
“Hey there. Seen anybody else?”
“No. Fox isn’t here yet.”
I watch them talk out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to be interested, but I’m honestly intrigued. They’re talking to each other as though they kept in touch over Christmas break. Rafael didn’t keep in touch withmeover Christmas break.
I know I’m just being some kind of extra sensitive, so I force the thought away and scan the rest of the room. I see some familiar-looking classmates other than The Brotherhood, who have seats near the front. There are a plethora of older students that I don’t recognize. The stage has a podium with a microphone on it, but is otherwise empty—that is, until a group of school administrators, including our dean, walks onto it.
Dean Robin, is with them.
I feel myself clench. Her eyes sweep across the crowd and find me easily; our gazes lock, and it feels like she’s boring straight into me.
Unlike The Brotherhood, it doesn’t look like she’s ready to move on from me. Not when there’s something she needs from me.
I just don’t know what that is yet.
A squeal of microphone feedback cuts through the chatter in the hall and Dean Robin winces, so I’m spared her gaze for now. Dean Withers clears his throat, looking embarrassed.
“Sorry about that,” he says. His voice echoes around the hall though the crackling microphone. “Anyway—as the upperclassmen will already know, it’s time for our annual competition with the girls’ school, headed by Headmistress Robin.”
The head of the girl’s school masks her grimace with a polite smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She hates being called “headmistress”.
It’s a fact that is not missed by anyone here … which makes Dean Withers’ use of it all the more insulting.
Our dean rambles on for some time about things like sportsmanship, good will, working together … those sorts of things, until he finally comes to the subject that everyone is actually here for—the subject of the first challenge between the schools.
“As it’s still cold, the first event will be an indoor puzzle challenge.”
“That sounds lame,” I sigh to Rafael, who nods. He’s already pulled out his notebook and has begun doodling a rude drawing of the man on stage.
“It will be held here, in the gymnasium in a few weeks,” the dean continues, unaware that beside me, Rafael has drawn him with spittle flying out of his mouth. “In a few days’ time, there will be posters and flyers with more details posted around the school. There will be specific dates, times, and methods for applying to compete.”
What a joke. We all know who’s actually going to be competing.
And from the pinched up look on Dean Robin’s face, so does she.
I stop paying attention and start watching Rafael’s drawing take shape. I don’t care about this competition nonsense, especially if The Brotherhood is going to be representing Bleakwood. I just need to focus on my grades.
The dean drones on about some other announcements—something about some hiking trails outside the school, menu changes in the dining hall—stuff that I don’t care enough about to pay any attention. I’m so absorbed in the sketches unfolding on Rafael’s paper that I’m startled when he snaps his notebook shut and stands up.
“Let’s go,” he says with yet another sigh.
