Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [39]
“Well, this time, he’s lying,” I seethed.
“How’s Ashley?” Cisco asked, concern in his voice.
“Last time I saw her, she didn’t know Anthony was saying all this about her. I’ll see Ash at the end of the day in Latin. I swear I’ll kill him,” I fumed, turning to head downstairs to chemistry.
“If you hear anyone say anything…” I began.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell them he’s lying,” he assured me.
At first, Angelique thought her spell had gone sour. “There’s such anger and rage around you,” she fretted. “I need to do the spell again.” She reached into my hair to yank out more strands when I stopped her, explaining what was happening.
“He said that about your little cousin?” Her eyes darted around the room. “I can’t do anything to Anthony, you see. Whatever I put into the universe comes back at me threefold. But maybe there is something we could do that isn’t too bad….” She started scanning the printouts that were tucked into the back of her notebook.
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “But thank you. You’re a good friend.” Angelique grinned, and we both grimaced when we heard Kristin make kissing noises behind us.
“Get a room, freaks,” she sneered. I just rolled my eyes and flipped her off. She was the least of my worries.
The seconds ticked by slowly, slowly, until it was time to walk into freshman Latin. I scanned the room for Ashley’s face but couldn’t see her anywhere. I wanted to give her a hug, a kind word, a dartboard with Anthony’s face on it when I noticed her friends glancing at me uncomfortably.
I slid over to her gaggle of girlfriends who were, for once, silent.
“Spill it, where is she?” I asked bluntly.
Catharine, a pretty brunette, mumbled, “She went home sick.” Her fingers made air quotes around the word sick. “She was really embarrassed.”
My eyes narrowed. “What Anthony’s saying about her isn’t true. You guys know that, right?”
“I know, I know,” she said emphatically. “But try telling her that. The entire freshman class thinks she’s easy. Three guys asked her out today—and this one guy told his friends it’s ’cause he heard she was a good time.”
I felt it again, my blood boiling. Cotton stuffed my ears, and all I could hear was my own pulse, throbbing in my head.
“Not everyone believes it!” Catharine was quick to say. “But—” she looked down “—a lot of people do.”
Vanessa, Ashley’s fellow redhead, leaned in and said, “He said she was easier to get into than public school.” Wow, arrogant and cruel, what a combo.
I didn’t hear much after that. Not Mrs. Dell, the Latin teacher. Not the chalk as it scratched on the blackboard. I was only aware of the sound of the large clock hanging above the blackboard as it ticked down the seconds, and the throbbing I felt in my own head. When the bell finally rang, it sounded like a scream. I grabbed my backpack and flung it over my shoulder.
“Are you going to Ashley’s house? Will you tell her to call me?” Catharine asked, concerned. Gossipy or not, at least these girls genuinely cared about my cousin, I realized.
“Not quite yet,” I muttered. My feet couldn’t move fast enough as I sped down the flights of stairs, past the gym and through the double doors that opened onto the quad. I shoved them open with a forceful push. I glared at the end of the quad where Anthony, Frank and the rest of that crew were starting up their usual after-school basketball game. Somewhere in my head, it registered that Brendan wasn’t there.
I dropped my bag—threw it, actually, under a bench to my right—and walked right into the middle of the game, pulling my long hair back into a ponytail with the black elastic band I had on my wrist as I marched forward.
I strode in front of Frank, cutting him off. “Yo, we’re playing here,” he said curtly.
I ignored him, heading straight for Anthony.
He had his back to me. He was huge, and built like a linebacker. Anthony had to be at least six-four, the alarmed thought went off in the back of my mind.
“Anthony.