Page 12 of The Devils They Are

“Oh, I see,” she laughs, nodding at the blue sleeve poking out of my bag. “A Cedar Heights comrade.”

“Comrade is a stretch,” I joke back. “But yes, I’m still getting used to the toilet paper situation too since it’s only my second day.”

She grins, washing her hands under the tap. “I hate to break it to you, but you never get used to it. There’s a constant fear you’re going to accidentally finger your own asshole. But hey, that’s probably the least of your concerns. I bet it feels like you’re trying to swim in a pool of lava right now.”

"Something like that," I admit. "I can handle it though."

Her eyes meet mine through the mirror. "I bet you can. You're Bexley, right?" she asks confidently.

"I am," I confirm.

There's something about her presence that seems friendly. Even saying my name, there's no animosity like I'd expect.

She doesn’t seem so bad. Easily the nicest person I’ve come across the past two days. I actually think I might grow to likeher. I'm not completely against the idea of an ally in this school, even if most of them are entitled dickwads. But she doesn't give that kind of vibe. If anything, she seemsnormal.

I still have to be on my guard though. I’ve learned never to trust people until they prove themselves. But hey, if anything was going to bring mortal enemies together, it was always going to be our disdain for periods. That’s why women should be in positions of power. Dick fights? Unproductive. Sharing tampons? World peace.

She flicks her hands over the basin, wiping the residual water on the sides of her shirt. But before she can respond, another voice cuts in.

"Argh, look what the trash dragged in."

I turn my attention to the doorway, eyes landing on three cheerleaders. Ahh, yes—this was the drama I was expecting.

"Fuck off, Liv. Don't you need to get your nails done or something?" the blonde girl mutters, walking away from the basin to stand next to me.

The girl in the center with auburn hair holds up a hand lazily, turning it over. "No need—got a fresh set yesterday since I can actually afford it."

I know that's a dig toward me, but I couldn't care less. Despite the fact these shorts are strangling my ass cheeks, I make do.

Crossing my arms, I face my bright-red nails toward her. "You're blocking the entrance," I tell the cheerleaders, noting the small crowd that’s gathered behind trying to get in. They are watching on, some with interest, while others glare at me. There's not a single familiar Cedar face among them but that’s fine. If they don’t move, I'm not above shoving my way through if need be.

"Don't pay her any attention. That's just Liv," the blonde girl murmurs dryly.

"Just Liv?" she laughs. "Try head cheerleader."

Oh, goody. I love a walking cliché first thing in the morning.

"Amazing," I reply sarcastically. "Well done, you."

Liv turns to the girl on her left. "Sierra, aren't they your old shorts from freshman year?" she laughs.

The tall, tanned cheerleader with a fresh caramel balayage snickers. "You know what Mommy is like—loves donating to charity."

"God, she can't even get the right size," Liv mocks. "They are so small on her."

And here come the fat jokes. Not an original thought or brain cell between the three of them.

I'm not overweight by any means, but I expected the bitchiness. When people have no more ammo, they target your physical appearance. I don't care though, but the girl on Liv's right shifts awkwardly. Her friends don't notice, but when her light brown eyes meet mine, she quickly looks away.

I take a few steps forward. "You're still blocking the entrance," I point out.

Liv smiles, glossy pink lips upturning smugly. "They can wait."

Rolling my eyes, I take a step to my left, but Liv follows, blocking my path.

"Move," I order with a warning to my tone.

"I'm not done speaking to you."

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