Will blinked at me, expression completely unchanged. “Is being on scholarship really that bad? Like, murderously bad?”
I shook my head. “Only for your social standing. I was on scholarship and hid it like it was some kind of oozing lesion.”
“I’m going to have good dreams tonight,” Will said with a grimace.
“Everyone teased me anyway, but when they found out I was a scholarship, too . . . oh, God. It was like a feeding frenzy.”
I remembered walking down the hall as slowly as possible so that the school would be empty by the time I got to my locker, but no one was budging.
I could hear their muffled giggles. I didn’t dare look at anyone because the giggles were easier to stomach than the narrowed, challenging eyes of Jessica and her gang, but worse were the eyes of the other students. They almost seemed to flash sympathy, but no one spoke up or offered me a reassuring glance. Most just looked away, thankful it was me and not them.
The thump of my heart got louder with each step I took and by the time I was ten feet away, I could see that something was pasted all over my locker.
Coupons. An application for public assistance. The Goodwill logo torn from a paper bag.
Jessica Bray sashayed up to me, a fresh coat of orange-scented gloss on her lips. She batted those huge, doe-innocent eyes at me. “Heard about your situation. Thought these might take some of the burden off you. Who knows? Maybe you can save enough to get yourself a decent pair of shoes.”
More than a decade later I could still smell the faint scent of orange blossom and it turned my stomach and shot an embarrassed heat down my spine.
“Maybe someone was willing to exterminate the issue to keep her status secret?”
Will crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head. “You really think someone would go to such lengths?”
I groaned and rubbed my forehead in a vain attempt to cull the throb that had begun. “No. I just feel like we’re running in circles. There may or may not be a coven on campus. Are some girls witches? Or just bitches? I should have just got out of this when Sampson gave me the chance.”
Will shrugged and pulled out his keys, leaving me behind to sulk. I trotted after him. “Aren’t you going to tell me that we really are making progress? That I’m not a total failure?”
He gave me a quick once-over before disappearing into the car. I snatched the passenger-side door open and slid in. “Well?”
“Well, nothing. We’ve come up against a dead end. I haven’t time to tend to your bruised ego. There’s an Arsenal game on and I fancy a pint.”
I felt my lower lip press out and my bruised ego was starting to grate.
“Coming with?” Will asked me as we coasted along a surprisingly un-crowded Geary Boulevard.
Though drinking myself into a beer-addled oblivion sounded particularly pleasurable at that exact moment, my pulse was still thundering and the mass of puzzle pieces that never seemed to fit nagged at me.
“Can you drop me at the police station, please?”
Will’s brows went up.
“I think I’ll just go into work and see if there’s anything pressing.”
Will bobbed his head once as though he were considering the validity of my answer rather than agreeing with me in any way.
I had my hand on the glass double doors at the entrance of the police station as Nigella coughed into reverse behind me. She and Will were halfway down the street when my body seemed to seize up. Everything locked tightly; even the blood pulsing through my veins seemed to freeze solid.
“Help me!”
Chapter Thirteen
It was a whisper at first, then louder, more insistent. I tried to turn my head, wanted to lean toward the sound, but I was still frozen—bound, somehow. Red washed over my eyes and I could see bits of light in front of me. My shoulder blades ached as they pressed against something wet and cold; I could feel the moisture seeping through my shirt. Now I was the one who wanted to beg for help, but my lips were cracked and dry and my throat was sandpapery and hoarse. I knew—somehow—that it was from hours of screaming.
A figure leaned over me, his edges blurred. I blinked and then blinked again, trying to clear my eyes, trying to get a better look. A coarse cloth brushed over my bare arm and I strained to shrink away from it—but I was still frozen, still bound.
My lips parted and I winced at the needling pain as the skin at the corners of my mouth slit and tore. Blood trickled past my lips.
“What do you want?” I heard myself whisper. “What do you want from me?”
But when I saw the edge of the blade catch on the moonlight, I already knew.
“Whoa, Sophie!”
I felt like I had been underwater and suddenly broken the surface. I gasped, and Officer Romero grabbed me by both arms, his eyes the size of dinner plates. “Let me call Grace.”
“No!” I stumbled backward. “No. I—I’m sorry, I was just daydreaming and you surprised me.”