He set me up.
Just before I break free he manages to kiss my forehead.
I wipe it away with the back of my hand. A furious scream burns inside my chest, but I stifle it. All I need is to draw a bigger audience. Morpheus would love that.
“I hate you,” I mouth silently.
“Sorry, beautiful,” Morpheus says to Taelor without breaking our gaze. “Alyssa followed me in. We had some reacquainting to do.”
Taelor’s mouth gapes. Shock and hatred flash in her brown eyes.
I grab my backpack and shove past, pausing in the hallway to face her. “It’s not what you think.”
Her mouth finally closes enough to form a sullen smirk. “It never is with you, is it? You have Jeb so fooled. Perfect, innocent little skater girl.” There’s so much poison dripping from her words that I could swear she’s been soaking her tongue in arsenic.
Morpheus looms behind her—a silhouette of wings and bravado only I can see. He offers a half bow, the master puppeteer acknowledging his puppet. Taelor’s been waiting for a year to get back at me for stealing her boyfriend, and Morpheus has found the perfect way to ensure nothing interferes with his plans to make a martyr of me.
My chest burns. I have no way to convince Taelor of my innocence, so I start for the stairs and concentrate on the forward momentum of each foot, blocking out their conversation. I don’t have to hear to know that Taelor is grilling Morpheus for details about how well “acquainted” we are. He couldn’t have found a better unwitting accomplice, or one with a bigger mouth.
By the end of lunch, our tryst in the bathroom will be all over school. By the end of the day, Jenara will hear of it. And by tonight, Jeb will know all about my dirty little secret that never was.
During eighth-period art class, we’re working in groups to make decorations for prom. The goal is to create an “enchanted forest” setting for the refreshment area and picture booth.
One student’s family owns an apple orchard and provided almost two dozen six-foot “trees” formed of antlerlike branches. For the past two weeks we’ve been spray-painting them white, sprinkling them with glitter, then transferring them into matching ceramic pots filled with clear glass gemstones to keep them upright.
It was a fun project. Until today.
After what Taelor saw in the bathroom, I can’t bring myself to join any of the groups. This is what I get for being a recluse. No one knows me well enough—really knows me—to jump to my defense when rumors abound.
I feign a headache because of the spray-paint fumes, and while I’m slouched alone at my table in the corner, I text Jeb. It’s against school policy to use your cell during class, but Mr. Mason has stepped out for a minute. His temporary substitute is either terrified of high schoolers or oblivious, because I’m not the only one with my phone in my hand.
I try a little damage control, texting Jeb that I had a weird encounter with the exchange student and not to flip out until I can explain.
I send Jenara a similar message.
She and Corbin ditched school right after lunch to attend his mom’s interior design showcase. But it’s just a matter of time until someone texts or calls her with the lowdown. Better she hear it from me first.
A fly buzzes around the room and settles on my shoulder. Fix things, Alyssa. Its whisper is a tickle in my ear. The flowers have been compromised. You must stop them.
I swish the bug away gently. I’m fed up with their obscure riddles. I have enough to worry about.
A few giggles break out at the table across from mine. Four junior girls avert their eyes when I look their way, pretending to focus on the lanterns they’re making of stiffened fabric doilies and white LED tea lights. As the girls form domes by tying two doilies together, their giggles escalate. It’s the same group that was ogling Jeb last Friday when he came to pick me up on his bike. I’m not sure if they’re talking about what Morpheus and I supposedly did, or what an idiot I am to screw around on an incredible guy like my boyfriend. Either way, it’s obvious I’m the topic of conversation, just like I have been in every class since fifth period.
My neck and cheeks burn.
The phone hums between my fingers. I click on Jeb’s response.
Uh … encounter? Details plz.
He sounds either jealous or rushed.
Biting my lower lip, I type the lie I worked up last period: Turns out his family is good friends with the London Liddells. I’ll explain everything when you pick me up.
I’ll do better than explain. I’m going to make a mosaic in front of him. Let him watch my blood’s magic in action. Then, once he’s past the freak-out stage, maybe he can help me figure out a way to avoid facing Red and still protect Wonderland and the people we love.