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22
MIA
“Mia! Hello. Is anybody in?”
Given that I’m outside, on my way to the library, I find the question funny. I stop and turn around, only to find a pretty dark-skinned girl with spiky hair in front of me. “In where?”
“Inside that head of yours. I’ve been looking for you all over.”
“What for?”
“What for? You serious?” She stares at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “To train. Did you think we were done?”
“Vanessa,” I say as the name comes to me, rising through a murky puddle of memory. “Melissa’s friend.”
“Yeah. Stop acting like we’ve only just met. It’s weirding me out. What have you been up to?”
“Classes,” I say, giving her a quizzical look. “Isn’t it what students do in a school?”
She laughs. “You’re in a funny mood today. Did you have breakfast? If not, come grab something with me. I want to know how the disguise thing went. I’m guessing nobody realized it was you?”
“As opposed to whom?”
“To Ophelia. Mia…” She shakes her head. “You’re seriously creeping me out. Come, I’m hungry.”
I’m about to refuse and go my own way. No time for chatting. I need to make a plan for my revenge, probe my memories for anything else I know about these boys. Ways to take them out. Harm them physically? Not satisfying. I need to return to them the pain they heaped on my cousin tenfold.
Maybe pretend I like them. Then hit them where it hurts most. Their reputation. Their control at school. Their dirty secrets. Everyone has some.
But another memory rises through the black water in my head and I follow Vanessa instead. “You want to take revenge on the four boys.”
“What? Well, yes, but I told you, I’m not so sure anymore that—”
“Good. Tell me about them.”
“Mia…” She frowns at me. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know all about them.”
“Not all,” I mutter and that seems to be the right response because she sighs and leads the way into the refectory.
“Fine. What is missing from the hot boys’ folder?”
Hot? Now she mentions it, I do seem to recall that they are handsome—for the monsters they are.
“Any dirty secrets they’re hiding?” I ask.
“That again? Weren’t you the one telling me the other day that they were framed by their families?”
“Did I? Rich families, huh?”
She points at the food she wants and receives her plate of chicken and fries over the counter. She snags a soda. “Is this a sort of review to jog up new ideas?”
“Sure. Humor me.”
She shrugs. “There are four royal families for the four dominant magical races. These guys are the scions of their Houses. They’re frigging princes which probably explains that insufferable arrogance of theirs. To a point. Being male isn’t in their favor, either. I swear, when the goddess distributed chromosomes…”
