Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [6]
“So, like, do you have some kind of OCD that makes you toss your hair all the time?” I mimicked her, meeting her ice-blue glare. “Are you going to start counting things, and knocking on wood, too? I’m just concerned for you.” I tried to make my voice sound sweet and convincing, like I really did have genuine worry over this glossy princess who had, for some reason, deemed me the enemy. But after my skeezy encounter with Blondo, my patience was wearing thin—and my sarcasm was evident.
I heard a snicker from the black-haired guy who’d just sat down in front of me, and I knew that our conversation had been overheard.
Great. So much for staying anonymous. Is it too late to transfer again?
“No, I’m fine. Don’t you even try to think about me.” She bared a row of perfectly straight, bleached-white teeth that stood out in her fake-tanned face. White and orange, orange and white. This girl looked like a Creamsicle.
Kristin continued her nasty tirade. “I just think your arrival is…off. Why would you transfer out in the middle of September? Why not wait until the end of the semester? You don’t make sense. Why are you here now?”
“Well, you see, my mom got a new job. In Tokyo. So I decided to stay in the States with my aunt Christine. Christine Considine.” I emphasized my aunt’s last name—she had some serious pull at that school and if Blondo can pull the “Don’t you know why I am?” move, why couldn’t I?
A slight look of surprise replaced her scowl, but she kept up with her inquisition.
“So where are you actually from, though?” she asked me, Emma the cockroach. “Philadelphia.” Did she not hear Jenn say it?
“Hmm.” She pursed her shiny lips. “My brother is at boarding school outside of Philadelphia. What school was it?”
“Oh, it wasn’t a boarding school…you wouldn’t know it.” I stalled. Crap. Crappity crap crap! Why hadn’t I decided to pick a fake alma mater? Knowing my luck, it would be her brother’s high school. She would own the high school. It would have a wing named after her family. The Creamsicle Wing.
“Well, come on, Emma.” The way she said my name was as if she was spitting out sour milk. “Was it Delbarton? Pingry? Which one?”
My mind raced, flipping through everything I knew of Philadelphia. What was there? The Liberty Bell? The Phillies? Cream cheese? Oh, yeah, Cream Cheese High School. Brilliant, Emma.
Something from my fifth-grade studies popped into my head.
“Congress Academy,” I heard myself saying, pulling the knowledge of the site of the first Continental Congress out of thin air.
Kristin wrinkled her nose, and the small diamond chip she had pierced on her left nostril sparkled. “I don’t know it.”
“Oh, it’s really small. And exclusive,” I added.
“Where is it?” she pressed.
“Downtown,” I lied, hoping downtown was a good thing. For Keansburg’s proximity to Philadelphia, I hadn’t been since a school field trip in eighth grade.
“Downtown? I’ve never heard of any Congress Academy downtown. I’ll have to ask my brother if he knows it,” she continued. “If it’s any good.” She resumed looking at me with a satisfied look on her face. She might as well have said, “So there!”
“Hey, Kristin, why do you care?”
The smooth voice came from the row in front of us, from the black-haired guy who laughed at my dig earlier.
Throwing his left arm cavalierly over the back of his chair—so his arm was resting slightly on my desk—he turned around and faced Kristin, who turned beet-red and stammered, “I don’t care. I was only—”
“You were only being a nasty little girl, as usual,” he said, coolly. “Anyway, I know the school. We’ve played them.”
He turned and looked at me for a brief second—and my pulse sped. I didn’t expect my response. I’d been around good-looking guys before—but this guy looked like a rock star. Long black lashes framed his green eyes—twinkling green eyes that locked with mine.
“In fact,” he added with a smirk. “At Congress Academy, they’re very good.”
I smiled back. Is he flirting with me?
His gaze dropped lower. For a split second I thought