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I know something’s off when I walk into Mr. Val’s class and notice Natalie, Jasmine, and Michelle glaring at me. I choose to smile at them and slide into my seat. Their gazes burn my back the whole hour. At the end of class, I hope to escape first, but Natalie and her minions have other ideas—they barrel past me, knocking me into my desk. If Mr. Val notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Lennon meets me outside Walcourt, bursting with excitement.
“You won!” she cries, her hair dances as she jumps up and down.
“Won?”
“You’re our princess for Queen’s Ransom! It was announced this morning.”
Oh no.
“Is there a way to...I don’t know...relinquish the title?”
Lennon frowns. “Why would you want to? You beat Natalie Rivera! Did you see the look on her face?” I can’t really pinpoint why, but Lennon’s excitement at my having beat Natalie seems a little off—almost vengeful.
“I’m not interested.”
Lennon blinks at me like she can’t comprehend the words that just came out of my mouth. Finally, she shrugs. “Talk to Shy.”
I don’t want to talk to Shy.
He knows things about me. When he looks at me, I see him stitching it together in his head—sees the dead, knows my weapons, lies.
After he left on Saturday, I spent the rest of the weekend warding my house against the dead when mom wasn't looking. Sprinkling a mix of crushed garlic and cloves under the windows outside and at the front and back doors. I also burned sage in my room. Mom wouldn't let me do it throughout the house. She hates the smell.
Then I placed Shy’s obsidian in my window, because despite the fact that it won’t keep people like him away, I believe he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to the dead.
Chase did, too.
After seeing the scythe sheathed at Shy’s side, I know he’s one of them: the people who hunted me before.
If ever there is a sign I need to move forward carefully, this is it. I'd already made too many mistakes, but I can recover so long as I find my coin.
Though, being named princess for Queen’s Ransom is doing the exact opposite of what I want. It’s bringing me out of the dark, shoving me under the spotlight where people can see and talk to me. People yell “hey, princess” as I walk from class to class—some give me high-fives and others invade my space to give hugs.
The first time it happens, I bristle so hard the thread threatens to explode from my hand. The second time, I consider tossing the guy over my shoulder but refrain.
“I thought you had to be invited to touch royalty,” I grumble, rubbing my arms from the last too-tight bear hug.
Lennon laughs. “I see you have no problems embracing the title.”
At lunch, I head to the Administration Office and work up the courage to ask Mrs. Cole if a coin has been turned into lost and found. Today, she's wearing a bright yellow cardigan that reflects off her face.
“It's a piece of my grandfather's collection,” I lie. “I lost it the other day.”
“Let me see,” she says and dutifully bends to pull a box from under her desk. I hear her rummaging around through the intercom. After a moment, she looks up. “I'm sorry, Miss Silby, but I don't see a coin.”
I must seem miserable, because Mrs. Cole looks sympathetic and says, “Let me take your information. I'll let you know if anyone turns it in.”
I offer her a smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Cole.”
Once I give her my phone number, I head outside. I'm not feeling hungry and I'm not in the mood to hang out in the crowded cafeteria. Besides, the weather is nice today and there's hardly any wind—an anomaly, I'm told, in Oklahoma.
The sun reflects off the white sidewalk, making my eyes water. I keep my head down until I round the corner of Emerson and am in the shadow of the school, but halt when I find Lily standing a few feet in front of me, staring up at the fire escape ladder on the side of the building.
I hesitate, torn between wanting to talk to her and retreating. I have to be cautious in my friendships, and Lily seems to be linked to everyone who’s ever shown interest in me—good and bad. Just as I start to turn away, her head snaps in my direction and I’m welded to the spot.
Lily looks like she’s spent a week buried under brush. Her uniform is dirty and tattered, her blond hair is matted together in clumps, and the skin under her eyes is reddish purple. It’s the blood that draws my attention, though—a crimson stain has pooled near her feet. Where is it coming from?
