Page 20 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

He thinks he’s showing me my home.

“It’s perfect,” I say with the most convincing smile I can manage. This isn’t as close to deadly as I expected it to be.

Kai takes us out of the image quickly when Ms. Abrams says, “Yield.”

When it comes to my turn, I try to think of something I could do. But all I know how to do is cauterize a self-inflicted wound.

I look Kai in the eye and say, “I’m gonna be honest. I personally wouldn’t like to be responsible for another Fire Folk related disaster.”

A flash of what I hope is fear crosses his eyes. But he steps closer to me, leans down to my ear, and whispers, “Ms. Abrams has never been very fond of the Fire Folk.” He reaches his hand out to me and says, “I can make sure it’s not too painful.” I scrunch my eyebrows up at him and he understands, saying, “I’ll get you out of class.”

When I don’t take his hands, he says, as if I care, “It will be beneficial to me as well. Displays of power from me or Calista are never frowned upon.”

“Calista is your sister?” I ask, putting together the pieces.

“Twin.”

“She’s my suitemate,” I say with a shy sort of smile.

“Then you may be stronger than you give yourself credit for.” I grab his hands and when a current of energy moves through him to me, my breath hitches. It feels like my heart stops for a minute, and I think of all the corenths Damien and I have killed this way.

“Ms. Abrams!” he calls and winks at me. “There’s been a miscalculation.”

I pretend like I can’t breathe for a minute longer and make my shaking hands shake harder. When Ms. Abrams tells me to sit out, I nod once to Kai.

By the end of class, I try to walk out unnoticed, but Aralia catches up. “Hey,” she says. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just a little winded,” I say. There’s quite the contrast between the other kids ducking their heads while I walk past and this one walking with me.

“I don’t like her either,” she tells me. “If I am right to assume that you didn’t like her. Otherwise, I love her.” I can hear the sarcasm dripping from her tongue like saliva drips from mine when I’m cooking an austec and haven’t eaten in a day.

Or two. Not that she knows what that’s like.

“I did think she was a rather good teacher,” I say with a straight voice.

“Well, then I think she’s great. Have you seen the mastick?”

“No.”

“Oh well, it’s the woods that surround our gardens.” The woods that remind me of the septic. “There’s gonna be a party at the end of the week. Everyone’s going.”

“I might too,” I say.

“Well, I’m heading this way,” she says, turning to the left. “Do you need help finding your class?”

“No.”

Aralia smiles without her teeth. “Okay.”

A party where everyone will be, outside of the school campus, possibly past any alarm. That sounds like the perfect time to leave unnoticed. Which means I have to figure out how to get back to Lorucille, and I have to do it quickly. I only have three days.

I sit down in my next class, Psychology, and Hogan’s eyes lock on mine. A warning, I assume.

Hide.

If only he knew how long I’ve been hiding. I’m practically a pro at this.

When he introduces me to the class as “Ms. Marquees” I get those annoying looks again, and like before, I decide to use them as fear. Hogan tells us to open our books and they resume their unit, and of course, they’re talking about the psychology of septic Folk. Like it’s any different.

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