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I sit at my usual table, sans Sophia. She's taken to sitting with Yuki and the rest of the It Girls of Cross—Manon Montgomery, Jacqueline Billington, Judith, and even Brooke. Though she looks like she's sucking on a lemon every time they interact, her older sister leaves her alone now. Maybe because of Yuki's protection. Maybe because Sophia looks radiant and confident these days. She wears her uniform fitted, her size, accentuating her killer curves. She's also learned to apply makeup. She used to cake it over her skin using the wrong colors, and too many layers. I tried to help her out but she got sensitive when I said anything. "Not everyone has perfect, flawless skin, Nadia. I need more foundation."
I suppose she listens to Yuki's advice. I try to be happy for her, but part of me hates that we drifted so far apart this year. Especially since deep down, I can't help thinking that this was purposeful. I could swear our distance is Jason's doing. A move to further weaken and isolate me. Why else wouldYuki, the legacy queen, suddenly pay attention to my best friend? I feel wicked for thinking that way. There are plenty of reasons to find Sophia interesting. She's smart, a little crazy but in a fun way, she loves good music and older movies—the three-hour pepla where everyone wears leather sandals. I just can't shake the notion that it was all to piss me off because of the timing. Yuki never cared about Sophia until Jason decided I should suffer.
"Eww." Willow makes a face. "Melon. Why do they hide melon in fruit salads?" She pushes her bowl away, thoroughly disgusted.
I spend more time with the redhead I met a month ago than with Sophia these days. Willow's cool. She's likely to become our valedictorian—Sophia'sgood, but she's not taking as many AP classes, so she'll probably make salutatorian.
Right after her classes, Willow hurries out of Cross to her job at a deli in town. Making friends with a waitress? Genius. She shares leftovers at least once a week at lunch. She also remains at school on weekends to work for two full days. I don't know her story—we're not that close—but she doesn't mind admitting that she needs the money. Coming from a working-class family, I like working to make my own pocket money, and to save for college. Willow says she's actually poor. Her brain got her into this school, but she still needs to save up to keep a roof over her head.
I asked about her parents once. After the look she shot me, I didn't ask again.
"Wanna swap?" I offer, pushing my dessert to her.
I picked a brownie, because I'm not a fool. Besides, between the swimming and my run through the school grounds, I totally can have as many brownies as I'd like.
Willow hesitates. "I already tried mine."
I shrug. "You bring us bagels all the time. Have at it."
She doesn't ask twice, moving the dessert to her tray and attacking it with gusto. She always eats like that; like the food in front of her could be her last meal.
I don't try her fruit salad. Meloniskind of gross, especially out of season.
I'm waiting for Willow to finish when I sense him before hearing or seeing him.
Jason.
He drags the metallic feet of the chair next to mine over the tiled floor and sits, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I don't acknowledge his presence, stiff and suddenly cold. I want to get up and go, but again, my pride prevents me from showing any weakness in front of him.
"Nadia," he says. "Burdon, Elisa," he greets the two other friends left at our table by name, before glancing at Willow appreciatively. She's very pretty. I want to kick Jason's chair. "And…I think we're in AP Calculus together? I'm Jason."
"We are," Willow replies, without giving him her name.
I could cheer.
Jason turns back to me. "I know you usually stay in the city over the weekend, but please make an exception next week. We're having a get-together at Glass for Halloween. You should come."
I laugh in his face, getting to my feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, guys," I tell the people I eat with, ignoring the asshole.
Which may not be the wisest court of action, but as it so happens, I don't care.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My primary AP Art project is really starting to come together. I had no clue what I was going for when I started, but a month into it, I see her—a Gorgon, both beautiful and monstruous, lovingly whispering to her snakes of metal and clay. Though she’s wounded, she doesn't seem to care. I suppose she’s used to it.
Her face is almost finished. Although I have a lot of definition work to do later, I’m well on track to finish by the end of the semester when we get graded.
Footsteps sound, soft against the floor, but it’s enough to break me out of the spell art tends to weave on me. Mr. Weir nods when he looks at my work.I know getting a nod from him isn’t an everyday occurrence.
“It’s been some time I since I've seen Greek mythology in this classroom. Is that Medusa, Nadia?”
I shook my head. “Everyone knows Medusa’s story. This is Stheno, one of her immortal sisters. They were cursed at the same time. Stheno’s the big sister. I like portraying her with wounds, but ignoring them and keeping on living. She still finds it in herself to be kind to those who matter to her. Even though they’re monsters. She’s strong, confident. She’s killed twice as many men as both of her sisters combined, and no hero got the best of her.”
I’m surprised to hear my teacher laugh. “Is that admiration I hear?”
I feel my cheeks heat. I suppose I’ve shown quite a bit of enthusiasm for murder. “Well, you know. They only murdered so-called heroes who came to fight them on their territory. Nowadays, we would basically call it self-defense.”
