Page 46 of The Whispering Night
She has just wriggled into her black training T-shirt, whenbam. Someone is standing beside her.
L.A. Saturday snorts at Winnie’s flinch. She wears the same training gear as everyone else, but she has made it wholly her own by cutting her T-shirt into a crop top and adding a small tutu over her track pants. She looks ready for the roller derby. “Care to explain why your boyfriend didn’t show up to our show last night?”
No,Winnie thinks.I really don’t.She retrieves her glasses from a nearby bench and shoves them on. She doesn’t think L.A. has ever directly addressed her in her life.
And she certainly has never directly scrutinized Winnie like she’s aChrysomya megacephalalarvae under a microscope.
“Well?” L.A. prompts.
“I have no idea why he didn’t show.” This is true. Completely true, but either Winnie’s tone isn’t very convincing or else her own panic over Jay is coming through, because L.A.’s posture softens.
Though only momentarily.
“Well then, what’s this about you winning the Midnight Crown, even though you’re not a senior? Some of us have worked really hard to get a crown, you know. Then you just show up and winallof them.”
“I had nothing to do with that. The Council were the ones who shrank the Court to one.”
L.A. cocks a single eyebrow. “TheCouncildid it, huh? And you hadnothingto do with it? It wasn’tyouridea to just skip the Golden Crown meant for juniors and go straight for Midnight?” The sarcasm dripping off her voice is practically forming a puddle around her boots.
Frankly, Winnie doesn’t care. L.A. has confronted her, clearly hoping for a fight—and you know what? Winnie wouldloveto go toe-to-toe right now. Which is why she says: “I guess if you wanted the Midnight Crown, L.A., you should have gotten more votes.”
The entire locker room audibly sucks in at those words. As if no one has ever talked back to L.A. Saturday before. The only person who doesn’t gasp is L.A. herself. Instead, her other eyebrow leaps up to join the first.
“I have no doubt I actually did win. I won the Bronze Crown, the Silver Crown, and the Golden Crown. There’s no way in hell I didn’t also win Midnight.”
“So what are you saying? You want me to just give it to you?”
L.A. shrugs as if to say,That works for me.
And Winnie shrugs right back. “Welp, can’t say I have it on me, Louisa Anne. But hey, check back at I-give-zero-fucks o’clock, okay? Maybe I’ll have it by then.”
Another gasp through the locker room.
L.A. opens her arms, smiling a feral smile. “Cute.”
To which Winnie responds by tugging back her right sleeve to reveal pale scars for all the senior class to see. “If a werewolf couldn’t take me down, then I can promise you can’t either.”
L.A. doesn’t look at the scars. She just holds Winnie’s gaze, her blue eyeliner thick and vibrant.
The entire locker room is holding its breath.
Then L.A. relaxes. A laugh barks from her throat. She starts nodding as if Jay has started a bass line. “Okay, okay. I hear you. Don’t fuck with the Wolf Girl.” She laughs again, a brighter sound this time, filled with real amusement, and the entire space deflates like a balloon.
L.A. flips up both hands. “I’m excited to see your moves in the hot room.” She pivots away. The final bursts of trapped air escape, and the unexpected shakedown ends.
But rather than feel relief at L.A.’s departing back, Winnie feels only fury gathering. Spinning like a hurricane. This is one more person trying to back her into a corner—and one more person who hasseverelyunderestimated what Winnie Wednesday can do.
L.A. picked the wrong target. She picked the wrong day. Winnie just faced down a full-blown Dianacornix,and L.A. is such small fry in comparison, she’s basically microscopic.
“Meu Deus,that was rough,” Coach Rosa says when Winnie finally storms onto the grounds behind the Sunday estate. The midday sun asserts its dominance across the obstacle course. The small lake ripples with spring-cold waves.
“You just watched everything that happened and didn’t interfere?” Winnieglares at the coach’s signature yellow scrunchie around her ponytail. Then at Rosa directly.
Rosa grins. “L.A. needed to be taken down a notch—like most Saturdays—and you managed it without even breaking a sweat. Well… without getting any sweatier.” She studies Winnie’s face. “Whyareyou so sweaty?”
Winnie wants to scream,BECAUSE EVERYONE IS OUT TO GET ME TODAY.But she chomps on her tongue instead and focuses on where Coach Rosa is now pointing. Tens of twelfth-grade bodies sprint and leap and swing.
“We’re racing to the hot room,” Rosa says. “You’re blue”—she shoves a velcro strap and flag into Winnie’s hand—“and the later you get in there, the harder it is to survive. Especially since I’m guessing you’ll be everyone’s target right now.”
