have to wait your turn.â
Jayden had just handed her the gun, so he tried to take it back.
Veronica didnât let it go. âDo you really want to make me wait?â
Now it was my turn to rip my mask off. If she wanted to go toe to toe, weâd do it face to face. âOf course not,â I replied. I hoped I sounded braver than I felt. âWe want you to take your turns and go.â
Veronica cocked an eyebrow. It looked like she was smiling, sort of, but it was probably an illusion. âDonât you want to put your mask back on?â
I wasnât sure if it was bravery or just plain, old stupidity, but if I put that mask back on, I knew I wouldnât win a single vote. So instead of doing the right thing, I drew myself up to my full height. âNo, Veronica, I donât.â
A shudder rippled through the crowd, but Veronica just shrugged.
âSuit yourself,â was all she said as she raised the paintball gun.
She was far enough away that I couldnât tell where she was aiming, but the one thing I did know was that it was going to hurt. I clenched my teeth and stared her down, and for a second, maybe less, I thought she smiled again.
The smile caught me off guard, and I almost relaxed. Maybe Iâd been wrong. Maybe âLa Vie en roseâ had changed her as much as it had changed me. Maybe we were almost friends. But before I could decide, Veronica drew a bracing breath and calmly squeezed the trigger.
The paintballs hit me in the chest, one right after the other. I lost track of the number as they burst against the tape, exploding against my chest like blood bursting from a wound. I stepped back to catch myself, but I didnât find my balance. I found Spencerâs rock instead. It caught my heel and tipped me over, and as I staggered back against Renfroâs, the paintâred paint, I noticedâdribbled down into the dirt and collected into gleaming beads.
Esther dropped to her knees beside me, cushioning my fall. She put a hand behind my head, which would have made an awesome death scene if Iâd actually been dying.
I guess Spencer didnât get the memo, because he launched himself at Veronica. âHoly Faraday, you killed him!â
Before Spencer could make contact, Hector caught him by the wrist, taking him down in one smooth move. âDonât be an idiot, muchacho .â
Spencer fell flat on his face, but he didnât let that stop him. He looked like a dying worm as he writhed and squirmed in place, pinned down by Hectorâs claw-like grip. He definitely wasnât giving up, but he wasnât gaining any traction, either.
His back glistened with wet paint, and his front must have been a mess, but Samantha didnât seem to mind. After planting herself on his back, she growled, âStop that, or weâll kill you next.â
Spencer finally stopped, but whether heâd taken her threat seriously or he could no longer move, I honestly couldnât have said.
âSay something,â Esther croaked, brushing the hair out of my eyes.
I looked down at my chest, which was still dripping with red paint, then slowly, very slowly, tugged at a corner of the tape. A bead of paint bled down the front. YOUR PAINT, YOUR VOTE, it said, and now that paint was Veronicaâs.
I managed a weak smile. âThatâs gonna look amazing when it dries.â
Estherâs gaze darted back and forth between my face and the T-shirt. Finally, she grinned. âYeah, I guess it will,â she said as she held out her hand. âWay to sacrifice yourself.â
I took hold of her hand, and she towed me to my feet. As I surveyed the scene, the other kids hollered and catcalledâbut not the populars. Hector sneered, Samantha spat, and Brady made a face. Veronica, on the other hand, just returned the gun to Jayden, then slowly turned around.
The crowd gave her a wide berth as she strutted off into the sunset (or, in this case,
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