Page 74 of The Darkest Note

“Nothing.” I quickly hide it behind my back.

Her gaze slides up to me and her expression twists with horror. “Did Dutch give you a card to his practice room?”

I’m about to deny it vehemently when I realize that this is a prime opportunity. Christa has everything in the world—except Dutch’s true affections. Sure, she might screw around with him, but it’s no secret that he has no interest in her. Not the way he’s interested in me.

Well, the other version of me.

I flutter the card around, making a show of fanning my face with it. “He wants me to have access to him. Atall times.”

“Give me that.” She swipes for it.

I snap it out of reach. “Ah-ah-ah. This is for people who actually mean something to Dutch.” I step closer to her and lower my voice. “What do you mean to him, Christa. I mean, apart from being the one he calls when he needs an itch scratched?”

Her face reddens. Trembling with rage, she lifts her hand and tries to slap me.

Fortunately for me, I dodge out of the way just in time.

Unfortunately for Christa, she loses her footing and face-plants against the locker.

The hallway rings out with a metallic bang.

I wince. “Are you okay?”

An ear-shattering scream pierces the hallway.

I cringe. “Guess you’re… not okay.”

“Christa!”

“Oh no!”

Her dance team minions rush around her, forming a circle. With their help, Christa scrambles to her feet. I gasp when I see all the blood rushing down her chin.

It’s coming from a split in her plump lips.

“No, no, no!” She wilts as if she’s got a broken leg instead of a minor lip injury. “I paid so much for this.”

I’m not surprised by that statement at all and it just goes to show how much Redwood is already changing me.

“You!” Christa’s voice is a growl. She crooks a finger at me and, with her pale skin, blonde hair and all that blood pouring down her chin, she looks like a zombie. “You did this!”

“Me?” I stick a finger in my chest.

“You… ow!” Christa cups her mouth and moans pathetically.

Her minions give me sharp, daggerlike looks. They can’t seriously believe that I pushed her into the locker, can they? I mean, a part of me wishes I did, but I didn’t even touch this girl.

“Christa?” High heels clip against the floor and a soft voice rings out. “What’s going on here?”

“Miss Jamieson!” Christa bawls. Big, crocodile tears leak down her cheeks.

The beautiful Lit teacher saunters into view. She’s wearing a hip-hugging purple pencil skirt, black pantyhose and ruffled blouse. Her curls are in a high ponytail and her thick coils cascade down her back.

“Christa, what’s wrong with your face?” Alarmed, Miss Jamieson hurries over. She inspects Christa for a second and then frowns. “Girls, take her to the nurse.”

“This isn’t over.” Christa’s voice is low and muffled due to the giant gap in her bottom lip.

The cheerleading team captain launches an arm around the shoulders of her friends and together, they hobble off. I’m pretty sure a busted lip shouldn’t prevent her from walking properly, but I figure exaggerating is right up Christa’s alley.

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