Page 1 of Knot What She Seems
1
BRYLEE
Sometimes,I imagine shoving a sock in Madam Ellora’s mouth. It might just be the only way to shut her up.
She stands at the front of the classroom, looking as meticulous as ever in her pencil skirt with her sleek bob, and drones on. And on. And on. I swear the woman just likes to hear herself speak.
My elbows sink down on my wooden desk, and I slouch a little in my chair. The fan overhead whirs soothingly, and the women seated around me are utterly silent, feigning rapt attention. My ankle twinges a little, and I rotate my foot in a small circle, the ache such a constant thing that it doesn’t even keep me awake anymore. My eyelashes flutter, the promise of sleep dangling on the horizon like a damn carrot, but I force myself to stay awake, to keep my attention on her. The last time I drifted off during one of her lessons…
Phantom pain reverberates across my arm as I remember her ruler hitting my flesh.
“Remember.” Her posh accent sounds like nails being jammed repeatedly into my brain. “Never,everlook an alpha in the eye unless he or she addresses you first.” The bell chimes, signaling the end of class, and she moves gracefully back behind her desk with a self-satisfied smile as if she just bestowed untold wisdom on us. Around me, the shuffle of skirts and laptops being loaded into backpacks starts up. But no chatter. Not yet.
“Class dismissed. Remember your homework assignment for next week.”
I practically scoff at that.
Our “homework assignment” is putting together a fake menu that will please our future alphas.
Gag.
Barf.
Vomit.
I stand with the rest of the omegas, straightening my knee-length black wrap skirt before I follow them out the door, keeping my mouth closed to avoid the taste of hairspray settling on my tongue because a few of the girls in front of me got a little too aggressive with their social media-inspired braids.
Darling Academy has been a staple of our country, Hypso, for centuries now. All omegas of noble or royal blood attend. They teach you how to get on your hands and knees and kiss the ass of any alpha you may come across. No wonder half the students here spew nothing but shit. They’re ignorant and they have no clue what some alphas are capable of…
Dark thoughts thunder through me, and my chest tightens, as does my grip on my bag.
“Hey! Bry! Wait up!” Harper Denali hurries toward me, a beatific smile on her face. My own smile is a little slower to come and is tainted at the edges with distaste.
Don’t get me wrong. I like my suitemate. She’s everything one would expect from an omega. Posh, elegant, sophisticated, and beautiful. Her brown hair is pin-straight, not a strand out of place, and frames a face made up of high cheekbones, full lips, and a tiny button nose. She’s always smiling or giggling or being nice.
I don’t trust it.
Everyone at this damn school has an ulterior motive, and I have no doubt that Harper is the same. Her family is of noble blood, after all, and are always trying to get on the good side of my parents. I wouldn’t put it past them to encourage their daughter to sidle up to me and act like my friend.
But who would want to be friends with a girl like me? I’m the campfire scary story omegas tell their childrennotto be like.
Harper links her arm through mine, and I try not to flinch.
“You eating in the cafeteria today?” she asks, blinking her long lashes up at me. They’re fuller than normal due to the expensive brand of mascara she purchased. I don’t understand how she’s able to make her makeup look so damn good. When I try to put mascara on, my lashes end up super clumpy and uneven.
I attempt to untangle myself from her but end up boob punching her instead. Awkward.
“Sorry about that.” I gesture roughly toward her torso as I step back. “Not today.” I don’t allow any further explanation. Harper may not know everything about me, but she’s not stupid. There’s a reason I disappear immediately after our classes and don’t return until just before curfew.
“Oh.” Her face falls momentarily before she immediately forces herself to grin. She’s like a damn pendulum swinging between emotions. Sad. Happy. Sad. Happy. Sad. Happy. I wonder what would happen if the pattern were to break. “Do you want me to bring you back food?”
“It’s fine.” I’ll probably just eat at Teddie’s, though I don’t say that to her. The less she knows about my extracurricular activities, the better we’ll be.
“Let me know if you want to study together before bed!” She reaches forward and gives my arm a squeeze before releasing me, and I have never been more grateful to have my own bedroom. Pajama party study sessions might have been my jam once upon a time, but not anymore. “See you later, Bry!” She waves—oh my god, even her nails are perfect, not a single chip to be seen—and sashays down the hall. My jealousy of her innocent happiness follows her as she drifts away in the flow of students heading toward the cafeteria. I pretend I’m going that way as well before skirting to the side at the last possible second.
The hallway is usually empty at this time of day. Only our music classes are down here, and all of those classes are in the morning.
I push open the back door—ignoring the ALARM WILL SOUND IF OPEN sign, because this particular alarm has been dead for months now—and step outside. Sharp, brittle wind bites at my cheeks and nose, but I welcome the pain. The cold. The reminder that I’m alive and breathing and not merely a pretty doll for others to dress up and use.
