Page 238 of Small Town Firsts

“What?” I sputter. He can’t be serious.

“You heard me.” He raps his knuckles against the podium. “Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

Bile rushes up my esophagus, but I force it down. “Fine. I’m sorry for wasting y’all’s time. It was rude, and I will do my best to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Satisfactory,” he murmurs, his soft voice in direct contrast with his hard eyes. “Please stand if any of the following words have any at point applied to you. Once the next is listed, take a seat if it does not also apply.”

Sterling draws out the anticipation, dragging his gaze around the room, before honing in on me. “Stand up if you are a liar.”

A few uneasy titters go up.

“Come on, everyone lies,” he goads, his focus still locked on to me.

I quickly glance around the room; my classmates look as uncomfortable as I feel.

Eventually, a guy toward the back of the room stands. Then a girl to the right of me, followed by several more students.

Maybe he’s not out to get me. Maybe he’s just a hardass in the classroom.

On trembling legs, I join the group standing.

Sterling smirks.

“Stand up if you’ve ever had regrets.”

I remain standing, because who hasn’t had regrets?

“Stand up if you’re selfish.”

I go to sit down, because selfish is definitely not a word I would use to describe myself.

Sterling’s not having it though. “Remain standing, Miss Price.”

“Why?” I whisper, feeling defeated but unwilling to admit it.

Ignoring my question, Sterling addresses the class. “I do not tolerate lies. Of any kind. Not to me, and not to yourself. Keep that in mind before returning to this class on Thursday. Show up ready to be real, or don’t show up at all. Class dismissed.”

In a flurry of motion, we all begin packing away our belongings. Luckily, most of my stuff is already in my bag from my failed escape attempt at the start of class.

I’m nearly to the door when Sterling calls after me. “Miss Price, a word?”

I gulp but turn and head toward him, determined not to show any more weakness to the likes of him. “Yes?”

“I know what you did,” he says for my ears only, “and I intend to make you pay.”

A million replies race through my brain, yet my mouth won’t form around a single word. Instead, I glare while willing myself not to cry.

“That’s right. I know. Now, run along, and if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll play nice.”

Still, I can’t seem to bring myself to speak. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d trust myself not to make a fool of myself. So, I do the only thing I can. I turn around and bolt.

CHAPTER 8

EMMY

Stella

Where are you?!

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