Page 44

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“Sure you don’t.” He glances past me at Veronica. “She can talk to whoever she wants, and right now, she likes me.”

My nostrils flare, and I bring my fist up and punch him as hard as I can because there’s no way I’m letting this asshole laugh in my face. He staggers back, his hand going to his mouth. My knuckles hurt like hell, but I want to do it again.

Someone shouts. People stop and get their phones up, and a girl near the doors yelps. When I spin toward Veronica, she stares at me, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise, and there’s no way in hell she’s going to listen to me now.

“Wait. Let me explain all of it from the beginning, and you can hate me after,” I say.

She shakes her head at me and takes off across the lawn.

“Veronica!” I shout after her, but she doesn’t even slow down.

Braxton wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and lowers his gaze to the blood on his fingers. Then he lets out a short laugh. “Well, nice job, man. You just messed up everything for yourself.”

“Go fuck yourself.” I storm off toward the dorms before I do something that will get me arrested.

ONCE I’M BACK IN MY room, I dig the tape out of my bag and wrap my knuckles, even though they only sting, but when I look at them, I remember Braxton’s stupid face and disgusting smile, and I want to find him and punch him until he can’t smile anymore.

Supreme will hear about this, though, if he hasn’t already, since people were filming and it’ll be all over social media. Braxton will make sure Supreme knows any missing details. Anyone who’ll be watching it will see a fight over a girl and nothing else. But what I just did was a huge mistake, and I’m probably out of the society for good.

I could go to Supreme with some story, since I’m good at that and say Braxton came at me or said something about my family. But he probably wouldn’t believe any of it, and I have more pride than to go begging him to let me stay, so no thanks.

And if they kick me out, I’ll never get another chance, since it’s not like I have some leverage, and they probably have enough info on me and could ruin my life. If not, they’d find something on my parents, just to make sure I don’t talk. After what happened, though, they probably wouldn’t have given me another chance at inner circle anyway.

But there’s something I can’t figure out. Why Veronica?

People get chosen for what they bring in, like money, their family name, a parent who can make problems disappear, or someone the rest of the campus adores, which is exactly why they came after me. Veronica has none of that. She’s just a regular freshman studying history, her family has apparently never set foot at Blackerville, and there’s nothing she can do for the society that another student couldn’t.

They’ve never gone after anyone this hard. I’ve seen them shrug off people with a lot more to offer, and I’ve seen them lose interest in someone halfway through because it was too much trouble to convince them to join.

So there’s got to be something about Veronica that they really want, and I have no idea what it is. Hell, I fucked everything up for her, which means she’s special, but only to me. Supreme must want something else.

Still, I won’t just give up now. Veronica can hate me. She can block my number and let that blond asshole buy her coffee and try to charm her. But I’m going to find out why the society wants her so bad, and whatever they want her for, they can forget about getting it while I’m still here.

Chapter 30

VERONICA

MY PROFESSOR GOES THROUGH the exams on her desk a second time while I lean over the edge, hoping I’ll spot my own handwriting somewhere in the pile.

“It isn’t here,” she says, squaring off the pile. “I’ve been through all of them, and there’s nothing with your name on it.”

“But I handed it in.” I press my lips together, because I definitely didn’t leave the room with my exam still in my bag or something. “I put it on your desk myself.”

“I remember. You asked me about the reading on your way out.” She lets out a breath. “You were one of the last ones to leave.”

Thank goodness she remembers, because otherwise, I’d be swearing up and down that I handed in an exam no one ever saw, and the professor would have every reason to think I’m making it up, especially with what people are saying about me around here.

“Then where could it be?” I ask.

“Papers end up in wrong folders sometimes.” She frowns down at the pile. “I went through the folders for my other classes and I emptied my whole bag, and then I went back to the lecture hall and checked under the desks in case yours slid onto the floor, but I couldn’t find anything anywhere. I even asked around if someone found it in the hallway, but I doubt it could’ve slipped out of my bag.”

At least she actually searched for it, and I’m pretty sure most professors around here wouldn’t have even bothered.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to retake it. I’ll put together a different set of questions.”

I grind my teeth, because I studied for days and I knew the answer to every question, and none of it counts for anything now.