Something in his tone made Claire want to shed the backpack and crawl up on the couch next to him, cuddling close, but she straightened her spine and said, I will, and marched to the door.
Two hard, fast chills swept over her. Michael, telling her a firm no.
Bite me, she said, shot the brand-new locks that Shane had installed, and exited into the warm Texas morning sun.
English class was boring, and shed already read through everything in the curriculum, so Claire spent her time writing out her thoughts in the back of her journal. A lot of them centered on Shane, and Shanes lips, and Shanes hands. And curses on the fact that she wasnt eighteen yet, and that it was a stupid rule anyway.
She was still thinking about the injustice of all that after class, when she ran into trouble.
Literally.
Claire turned the corner, head down, and collided with a tall, firm body that instantly grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her, hard, backward. Claire nearly lost her balance, but skidded to a shaky and upright halt, bracing herself against the wall. Hey! she yelled, more in shock than anger, and then her brain caught up with her eyes and she thought, Oh, crap.
It was Monica.
Monica Morrell looked polished and perfect, from her shining straight hair to her flawless makeup to the cute, trendy sheer top over baby doll T she was wearing. No backpack for Monica. She had a designer bag, and she looked Claire up and down, glossed lips twisting in disdain. Of course, she wasnt alone. Monica never went anywhere without an entourage, and today it was her usual wing girls, Jennifer and Gina, as well as a hovering flock of hard-bodied boys, most of them athletes of some kind or other.
Everybody was taller than Claire.
Watch it, freak! Monica said, and glared at her. And then started to smile. It didnt lessen the menace in her pretty eyes. Oh, its you. You ought to watch where youre going. She half turned to her little gaggle of followers. Poor Claire. Shes got a syndrome or something. Falls down stairs, hits her head, nearly burns down her house She focused back on Claire as Jennifer and Gina giggled. Isnt that right? Didnt your house burn?
Little bit, Claire said. She was shaking, deep down, but she knew that if she backed down, she risked a lot worse. But I heard its not the first time thats happened when you stop by for a visit.
Monicas clique made a low ooooooooooh sound, a no-she-didnt murmur evenly split between appreciation and anticipation. Monicas eyes turned cold. -Er.
Dont even go there, freak. Not my fault you live with a bunch of losers and jerks. Probably that Goth whore lighting candles all over the place. Shes a walking fire hazard, not to mention a fashion disaster.
Claire bit the inside of her lip and swallowed her reply, which would have had to do with who the real whore was in the conversation. She just raised her own eyebrowswell aware they werent plucked, or perfect, or anythingand smiled like she knew something Monica didnt.
Shes not the only one. Isnt that top from Wal-Mart? The Trailer Park collection? She turned around to go as Monicas friends hed again, this time with an edge of laughter.
Monica grabbed her by the backpack, yanking her off-balance. Tell Shane I said hi, she said, her breath hot against Claires ear. Tell him I dont care whos put out the truce flagIm going to get him, and you, and hes going to be sorry he ever screwed with me.
Claire pulled herself free from Monicas highly polished manicured grip and said, He wouldnt screw you if you were the last girl on earth and it was survival of the species.
She thought that Monica was going to scratch her eyes out with those perfectly manicured talons, and backed off fast. Monica, strangely, let her go. She was even smiling, a little, but it was a weird kind of smile, and it made Claires stomach lurch when she looked back.
Bye now, Monica said. Freak.
Chem class was already under way when Claire breathlessly slid into an empty seat and unpacked her notebook and text. She kept an eye out for Monica, Gina, Jennifer, or any random chemicals being flung her wayit had happened beforebut she didnt run into Monica there, or on her way to her next class, or the next. By midafternoon she was aching from the tension, but her heart rate was pretty normal, and shed gotten back into the groove of listening for comprehension. Not that she wasnt way ahead in the classesshe had a habit of reading the whole book at the beginning of the semesterbut it was always nice when professors dropped some tidbit that wasnt in the book or the published notes. Even the classes she didnt much like seemed relatively interesting. History had a quiz, which she finished in five minutes and handed in, then escaped with a silent thumbs-up from the professor.
It was late afternoon when she exited into the quadrangle outside of the science building; the crowds of students had thinned, since a lot of people tried to finish classes early and get on with the all-important party schedule. TexasPrairieUniversity wasnt exactly Harvard on the Plains; most of the students were here to plow through two years of required courses, then transfer out to a legitimate university. So it was Party till you puke, mostly.
It was funny as she looked around now, knowing what she knew about Morganville. Shed never realized what an insulated little world college was; shed be willing to bet that ninety percent of the kids attending had no idea what the real score was in town, or ever would. TPU was like a wildlife park, and the students were the wildlife.
And sometimes, the herd got culled.
Claire shivered, looked around for any signs of lurking Monicas, and took off for home. It wasnt a long walk, but it took her over the nicely tended (though sun-seared) grounds and out into Morganville propers business districtwhich really wasnt. It was a sideshow for the students, all coffee shops (she wondered what poor fool Oliver had gotten to fill Eves empty barista apron) and bookstores and trendy clothing emporiums. Buildings sported school colorsgreen and whiteand usually had STUDENT DISCOUNT signs fading in the windows.