day after day, I got suspicious,” she pauses. “So when she left school early, I figured she was going to lay her egg.”
“Egg?”
“Yeah, you’re full of them. You didn’t know that?” Brielle rolls her eyes then burst into laughter.
“Michelle is going to have Dudley’s baby. Is that freaking wild?”
“Yeah, that’s wild.” Brielle gets up on her elbows and gazes out at the wall in front of us. “So,” her tone softens, “what are you wearing tomorrow night?”
“Gage picked out a French maid costume for me. Only I won’t have to wear that choker thing.” I yank down my scarf.
She winces at the sight of my neck.
“That’s beyond disgusting.” She sticks out her tongue.
“How about you guys?”
“I’m a nun, and he’s a priest.”
“Oh, I get it—Mr. and Mrs. Blasphemy.” I roll over onto my stomach. “So what do you think is gonna to happen to Michelle?”
“Let’s see, she’ll be wishing she were dead in about nine months when she’s trying to squeeze a watermelon out of her ass, then after that, Dudley will wish that he was.” She gives a big toothy grin.
It’s comfortable lying here with Brielle. Strange how she knew that stuff about Carly and didn’t mention it.
I look at her chestnut brown hair falling over her shoulders, her perfect features, that porcelain white skin.
Hanging out with Brielle feels natural, like if she ever did lose her mind and marry Drake one day, I could totally see her as my sister. I sort of already do. There’s no way she knows she’s a Count or understands the fact she’s supposed to oppress me simply because of my lineage. I don’t know how I could have ever suspected Brielle of slitting my throat.
She dips her hand down onto the floor and reemerges with a sickle shape piece of glass.
Brielle locks eyes with me, lost in a cold isolated stare. The light refracts off the shard, spraying pale blue dots and shadows all across the room.
“Are you afraid of me, Skyla ?” She asks with a slow whisper. There’s not a hint of laughter in her eyes, nothing that suggests she might be teasing.
“No.” I lie, rubbing my fingers across my stitches. “Should I be?”
“I think you should fear just about everybody.”
Chapter Twenty
Boo
Halloween morning on Paragon is dark, damp, and blustery. No game tonight, but I decide to wear my cheer uniform to school anyway, minus the scarf I’ve been wrapping around my neck like a second skin.
Mom gasps as I enter the kitchen.
“What is that?” She makes her way over and taps my stitches with the pads of her fingers. “Looks so real.”
“Like it? Gage and me went and got a bunch of cool stuff at the Halloween store yesterday.” I turn around towards the fridge so she won’t see my face light up like a flame.
Shit! What was I thinking? For sure I wasn’t thinking she was going to touch it. Hell, I didn’t even think she’d notice.
“So what are you?” Mia comes around the corner and ogles at my neck. Her face contorts in a repulsive manner, and she backs off as though it might be contagious.
“I’m a cheerleader who got her throat slit.” I walk over and pull a banana off the counter while considering the irony.
“So how’s the baby making going?” Mia asks as she picks her backpack off the floor.
I hold my hand up and shield my face from Mom so I can retch freely in Mia’s direction.
Why would she ask that? That’s totally disgusting. I’d rather have my throat slashed a thousand times than ever bring up the subject of baby making with Mom.
“You know. It just seems like it was a whole lot less work when you were born.” She starts slicing into a grapefruit.
I can’t breathe. This is sick.
“Excuse me,” I sigh into my words. “It’s neither normal nor healthy to be discussing this at breakfast, or quite frankly at any meal with your children.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Skyla ,” Mom’s voice is laden with sarcasm. “Has my desire to produce a
“Egg?”
“Yeah, you’re full of them. You didn’t know that?” Brielle rolls her eyes then burst into laughter.
“Michelle is going to have Dudley’s baby. Is that freaking wild?”
“Yeah, that’s wild.” Brielle gets up on her elbows and gazes out at the wall in front of us. “So,” her tone softens, “what are you wearing tomorrow night?”
“Gage picked out a French maid costume for me. Only I won’t have to wear that choker thing.” I yank down my scarf.
She winces at the sight of my neck.
“That’s beyond disgusting.” She sticks out her tongue.
“How about you guys?”
“I’m a nun, and he’s a priest.”
“Oh, I get it—Mr. and Mrs. Blasphemy.” I roll over onto my stomach. “So what do you think is gonna to happen to Michelle?”
“Let’s see, she’ll be wishing she were dead in about nine months when she’s trying to squeeze a watermelon out of her ass, then after that, Dudley will wish that he was.” She gives a big toothy grin.
It’s comfortable lying here with Brielle. Strange how she knew that stuff about Carly and didn’t mention it.
I look at her chestnut brown hair falling over her shoulders, her perfect features, that porcelain white skin.
Hanging out with Brielle feels natural, like if she ever did lose her mind and marry Drake one day, I could totally see her as my sister. I sort of already do. There’s no way she knows she’s a Count or understands the fact she’s supposed to oppress me simply because of my lineage. I don’t know how I could have ever suspected Brielle of slitting my throat.
She dips her hand down onto the floor and reemerges with a sickle shape piece of glass.
Brielle locks eyes with me, lost in a cold isolated stare. The light refracts off the shard, spraying pale blue dots and shadows all across the room.
“Are you afraid of me, Skyla ?” She asks with a slow whisper. There’s not a hint of laughter in her eyes, nothing that suggests she might be teasing.
“No.” I lie, rubbing my fingers across my stitches. “Should I be?”
“I think you should fear just about everybody.”
Chapter Twenty
Boo
Halloween morning on Paragon is dark, damp, and blustery. No game tonight, but I decide to wear my cheer uniform to school anyway, minus the scarf I’ve been wrapping around my neck like a second skin.
Mom gasps as I enter the kitchen.
“What is that?” She makes her way over and taps my stitches with the pads of her fingers. “Looks so real.”
“Like it? Gage and me went and got a bunch of cool stuff at the Halloween store yesterday.” I turn around towards the fridge so she won’t see my face light up like a flame.
Shit! What was I thinking? For sure I wasn’t thinking she was going to touch it. Hell, I didn’t even think she’d notice.
“So what are you?” Mia comes around the corner and ogles at my neck. Her face contorts in a repulsive manner, and she backs off as though it might be contagious.
“I’m a cheerleader who got her throat slit.” I walk over and pull a banana off the counter while considering the irony.
“So how’s the baby making going?” Mia asks as she picks her backpack off the floor.
I hold my hand up and shield my face from Mom so I can retch freely in Mia’s direction.
Why would she ask that? That’s totally disgusting. I’d rather have my throat slashed a thousand times than ever bring up the subject of baby making with Mom.
“You know. It just seems like it was a whole lot less work when you were born.” She starts slicing into a grapefruit.
I can’t breathe. This is sick.
“Excuse me,” I sigh into my words. “It’s neither normal nor healthy to be discussing this at breakfast, or quite frankly at any meal with your children.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Skyla ,” Mom’s voice is laden with sarcasm. “Has my desire to produce a
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