Page 26 of The Tenth Circle
What seventeen year old uses the word testes in a threat?
“Really, Bee? Testes?”
She shrugs. “What? It’s the correct term.”
“Yeah, for an Anatomy & Physiology teacher.” Archer maneuvers himself off us, then plops next to me as we sit up.
“I really didn’t mean any offense by my comment, Bex.”
Bex reaches up to brush out his messy hair. “Of course you didn’t, Archer Beaumont.” Her hand lowers to his cheek, squeezing it. “’Cause you’re one of the good guys.”
Truer statements have never been spoken.
“I don’t know…maybe I have a basement filled with bodies like Thistlehouse.”
I scoff. “Whose worst torture tactic would be correcting them every time they mispronounce the word gyro.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “It’s YEE-ROH. I’m sorry for wanting to respect the Greek language.”
“See? Like Bex said…one of the good guys.” I stretch upward to kiss his cheek. “Which is why I’d be your Veronica Lodge any day.”
I leave Bex and Archer to finish the last bit of Riverdale and begin my journey to the girls bathroom. Being a Sunday, the halls are mostly quiet, only the sound of T.V.’s and chatter behind some doors.
Without an ounce of pep, I make my way to the elevator, refusing to take the steps down to the showers. Not because I’m embarrassed to be covered in chocolate, but because after this week any type of cardio sounds like a fate worse than death. I’m already using up whatever energy I have left from Archer’s tickle attack to stuff a towel in my backpack.
Unlike Bex with the fancy shower caddy and plush robe, I opted for the Jansport I used last year to carry all my shower shit. I commend her efforts to keep things in order, but there’s not enough patience in my day to waste it on organization.
I’m sliding my arms back into the straps when reaching my destination, and right before I press the button there’s a ding above the doors. So, I do the decent thing and step back to let whoever it is out of the car.
I regret the decency immediately when they slide open to reveal a motherfucker and a skank whore.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” Annalie’s eyes aim right for my chest, fingers twirling in her red hair. “A muddy pig.”
Saint’s face is an unreadable mask as he stares down at me too, and even though I feel like there’s sand filling my throat, I keep my chin high.
Annalie pops her gum, as if waiting for him to react to her not-so-clever fat girl dig. He doesn’t, which earns him an eighth of a check in my book.
My smile is petty as I scrape up whatever chocolate I can with my finger, bringing it to my lips and licking it off with the tip of my tongue.
True to bully etiquette, my show of confidence has Annalie’s insecurities taking over, and the previous bravado she used to insult me crawls up her flat ass and out her mouth with an “Ew.”
I take a calculated step closer, and the scared twit swallows so hard it forms a wave in her neck. I revel in her discomfort like a first morning dose of nicotine.
When I reach the threshold of the elevator, the doors begin to close, so with eyes turning to slits I slap my palms against both to force them back open.
That gets a reaction from Saint. It’s not much, just two raised brows while checking his phone.
I’ll table his ass for now.
Because the axe I have to grind with Saint is a mere chisel compared to the one I have with the bitch who hurt my friend.
I enter the car, then press the emergency button as soon as the doors close. Saint studies me closely but doesn’t put up a fight when I approach the little whore—and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. Nobody gets out of here until the fat ladywrings…and by wrings I meanAnnalie’s neck.
“You should consider yourself lucky thispigdoesn’t believe in wasting,” I lock a hand around her throat. “Or else you’d be falling victim to my stellar aim once again.”
“What the fuck?” Annalie chokes, trying to pry herself free, but the size of me she mocked earlier offers an advantage.
I kept my cool for Bex’s sake…but if I had it my way, the trash would’ve been taken out by her hair extensions days ago.
