Page 65 of Satan's Spawn
“As interested as one is in getting a terminal illness.” I lie through my teeth, because I can no longer deny I harbor more than hatred for Crayton.
Well, at least my body does.
“Right,” he says, riddled with disbelief, but I no longer have the energy to argue with anyone.
“I’m gonna head back to class. Thanks for looking out with that cart.”
Saint shrugs. “Eh. Don’t bother.”
I’m about to question why I wouldn’t bother going to class, but the bell rings, answering for me.
Fucking awesome.
“So, you coming to the Harold’s party tomorrow?” He asks, ignoring the crowds of people mobbing the halls. Most of which are looking on as if they’re witnessing a UFO sighting.
I lift my head high as a silent fuck you to all of them. “I am, actually.”
“Careful, Saint. I’m pretty sure this one has herpes.” A blonde stops next to us, eyeing me up and down. The rest of her posse laughs behind her like a tribe of hyenas.
A cruel smile spreads across Saint’s lips, and for the splittest of seconds I think he’s about to jump in on the joke, but he does the complete opposite.
“Maybe you should let her borrow that vaginal cream you got, Tracy.” He sneers, eyes still on me. “You know, the one Levi was lucky enough to find in your drawer before actually tappin’ that rotten snatch of yours.”
The hallway goes silent, and everyone, including Saint, turns to face Tracy whose face is a deep red from humiliation.
I press my lips together, trying my hardest to bite back a laugh as Saint stares down at her with sheer malice on his face. Should I be concerned with how fast he’s able to go from playing friendly jock to vicious jerk?
Because him being an associate of Crayton isn’t enough?
More of Saint’s icy words breaks me out of my stupor.
“The problem here,Tracy, is that your stifling ass is lying about my friend Rebecca.”
“Bex,” I correct him, holding up a finger, but he’s too focused on Tracy to acknowledge me.
“I’m not lying about you, though, am I?” His question is deadly, and Tracy looks as though she’s hoping it is as she shamefully nods. “Then what the fuck gives you the right to interrupt our conversation when you’re walking around with who knows what growing on that disgusting cunt?” His eyes dip to the area in question, which she’s covering with her bag.
Saint spits at her feet. “Keep it fucking steppin’ before I move on to what you stuff in that bra to make it a D cup.”
My jaw hits the floor as I watch Tracy take off in hysterics, her friends following behind trying to console her.
Saint turns back to me, shaking his head before his face brightens again. “Fuckin’ sophomores, amIright?” He huffs. “Anyway, I’m glad you’ll be at the party. You should come over and say hi while you’re there.”
It takes me a few blinks before I respond, his mood shift giving me a serious case of vertigo.
I should tell him I’d rather stick one of Hendrix’s colored pencils in my eyes, but given what I just witnessed I’m thinking it’s best not to provoke him.
“Yeah, pretty sure I’ll be staying far away from your little group of friends.”
“Why’s that?”
“Seriously?”
“Ehhh,” Saint brushes me off. “Don’t take what he does personally, Crayton’s just got a weird…thing….for blondes.”
I instinctively reach for my hair, twirling it in my fingers. “So, what? He likes them?”
His nose pinches, as if realizing his mistake. “Uh. No. I’m saying he hates them.”
