Page 13 of Bittersweet Revenge

“Ah, that’s short.”

“I know,” I grimaced, resting all the ingredients on the counter before rummaging in the cupboards trying to find what I needed. “I don’t know the people here.”

“But I do,” he said.

I nodded. “Exactly.” I looked around. I wasn't sure if Caleb was around listening to our conversation. He was so angry at me, I wouldn't put it past him to sell me out just for revenge.

“He won’t be back for a while. He has Class President shit to deal with,” Archie said.

“He is Class President?” I asked with surprise, and yet somehow it made sense. That guy had crazy high expectations. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he ended up running for the White House.

“Do you even know anything about him at all?”

Yes, the things that matter, I thought. I know his heart, at least part of it…or I thought I did.Instead I replied: “No, not much.”

Archie shook his head with asigh. “This is an issue for another time. Opening Caleb Astor’s Pandora’s Box will take weeks and only cause you unnecessary trauma.” He waved the journal. “I think what we need to figure out first is who gave this to you.”

“I have no idea. I told you before, I just left my things for like ten minutes and it was there when I went back.”

“That didn’t leave that person a wide window. They had to be studying you. Didn’t you notice someone following you or staring at you?”

I snorted. “I was the long-lost daughter of William Forbes. No offense brother, but I was headline news; everybody was staring.” I extended the spoon full of batter. “Want to try?”

“Salmonella?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pass.”

I licked the spoon before putting it in the dishwasher. “That’s an urban legend, you scaredy cat.”

“Did you notice anybody in the library when you went?”

“Except for Ms. White.” I shook my head, concentrating on cooking my pancake. “No, no one.”

“Who?”

I glanced at him before looking at my pan again. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Ms. White? The librarian?”

“The Amish weirdo with glasses?”

I scowled at him, flipping the pancake over. “Don’t be an ass.”

“What? I didn't know her name.”

“You’ve been in this school for what, five years and you don't even know the name of your librarian?”

“Don’t be like that, Esme. Don’t make me say it because we both know you won’t like it.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Mom has been gone thirteen years and this Ms. White is not really part of the same scene as us.”

I shrugged. “She is nice. I like her.” I placed a plate full of pancakes in front of Archie just as Caleb entered the house and came into the kitchen, probably informed by Benjamin of our whereabouts.

He stopped on the threshold, detailing me, then Archie, and finally the plate of pancakes.

“Esmeralda,” he said, his voice and face devoid of emotion which always drove me crazy.“Archibald,” he greeted before turning around and walking away down the corridor.

“Offer him some,” Archie whispered, looking at the plate of pancakes. “Honey remember, not vinegar.”

I rolled my eyes, but did as Archie suggested. “Caleb!”

Within a few seconds, he was back at the threshold, his eyebrow cocked inan invitation to continue.

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