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His full attention is on me, tuning out the rest of the class, as though my answer could be life and death.
“I guess you’ll find out.”
We’re called by alphabetical order, so Jason’s first. He picks Mercutio. That makes me chuckle under my breath. I know he doesn’t relate to him even the tiniest bit. If Jason has to be cast as one character in that play, he’s the Prince, dictating everyone’s fate with a few imperious words.
He presents every argument with a deep understanding of both the play and the character, throwing in a few more quotes for good measure. His straight A in this class is well earned, to my frustration.
Melina’s presentation is much weaker, but she pulls it off. Cain chooses Benvolio, and somehow manages to make the guy sound interesting. He’s also a liar. He’s Tybalt, as loyal as Mercutio, but indifferent to the fate of Verona. Right and wrong mean nothing to the Tybalts of the world. What matters is winning.
When it’s my turn, I’m not the first to choose Romeo, but I’m the first to present my theory. “He’s frustrated, bored, and depressed from the start and hides it from himself by flying from one crush to the next. If he hadn’t died in three days, he would have found another love interest and cheated on Juliet at the first opportunity. I think Romeo’s a modern teen, and therefore the character I can relate to most in the play. Unfulfilled, finding the rules of the adults in charge unjust and stifling.”
Mr. Green nods. “Very good, Nadia. I wish we had more time to let you expound on that thread. For now, A plus. Next…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Out of habit, my stuff's packed by the time the bell rings after Lit. I like to be ready to hightail it out of this class. Not that I'm capable of hightailing it anywhere today.
Mom lied. Those pretty, pretty shoes hurt just as much as I assumed they would. Admittedly, they may not hurther,given the fact that she probably doesn't have any nerves left in her feet. The pain isn't crippling—I can walk, but I'm slower than usual. I'm using muscles I didn't even know existed in my shins and under my feet. I should have listened to Mom's advice and packed some flats. for the first time this year, I'm looking forward to PE, so I can change into gym shoes for a while.
"Romeo, hm?"
I sigh as Jason slides to my side like he belongs there. Cain joins us, flanking me to my left. To look at us, inches apart, you'd think we were the best friends in the world, which tells you all there is to know about appearances.
"I call bullshit. You're not flighty, depressed and whatever else you said."
Now that makes me snort. "Fascinating how you think you know anything about me, Alden."
"Jace," he corrects smoothly. "And I do. I know you went for the clever, out-of-the-box answer in order to get an A."
Damn him for being right. "Like you were any more honest. Besides, I'm getting bullied by megalomaniac asshole kids with mommy issues. Of course I'm depressed."
I'm not, strangely. Am I sad about losing Sophia's friendship? A little, at times, but fragile relationships of that kind aren't worth cultivating—or crying over. I was never popular in this school. This drama since the start of the year might sap my energy, but most days it doesn't truly hurt me.
Except last Friday. That art class bitch better stay the fuck away from me from now on. I have access to plenty of pointy objects in that class. If she "accidentally" messes with my stuff again, I'll "accidentally" stab her dominant hand.
Maybe not. I don't want to get expelled. And potentially arrested.
Jason's hand moves to my chin, holding it tight. He stops walking and tilts my head up so I meet his eyes. "Don't lie to me. Are you?"
I slap his hand away, hating the jolt of current I feel when he touches me. "What?"
"Depressed," he clarifies. "You don't seem to be."
My lips purse. "You don't know me, asshole. Don't act like you do. And don't act like you care. It makes me sick."
On that note, I rush on my way to the cafeteria, ignoring the pain in my feet.
Except, I'm still wearing heels, and his legs are ridiculously taller than mine, so he catches up without effort. If anything, we're probably walking at his normal pace now.
"Are you coming to the Halloween party?" Jason asks, like it's a natural question.
I remember him inviting me last week.
"Right. Why wouldn't I walk into the ostentatious dorm of the asshole who delights in tormenting me with all his friends?"
"Errr, because our parties are fucking epic, cupcake," Cain puts in. "DJs, booze, freshly baked pizza, cake, you name it. Hell, if you have a food or drink request, let us know—the school's still organizing."
I wrinkle my nose. "The school is providing booze for an underage party?"
