Page 23 of Let Us Prey
When I return to the lockers, my mouth drops open.
For the love of Dionysis’ wine breath!
My bag is on the bench, but every piece of clothing is missing—my uniform, heels, and knee socks, even my stinky dance clothes are completely gone. Panicking, I zip around the room, nose twitching as I look for clues. All I can smell is a... civet and a bearcat.
Motherfucker! Those bitches were in my dance class.
How did they hide in here and why, in Hades’ name, would they take my clothes? Neither of them even glanced in my direction during the class. Hell, no one did, save the Professor. What am I going to do? I can’t stalk across campus in the buff, and I definitely won’t make it back to my dorm without clothes, either.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I work to calm my racing heart as the bunny flickers over my skin again. Instead of tears, rage wells up in my gut. Thishasto be a half-baked Heather B. plan. Shelovesold 80s and 90s bully girl movies, and she’s always trying to pull outrageous stunts to get people’s attention. I swear, if her daddy looked at her as anything but a meal ticket, she might like herself enough to let people see the real her. Strike that—the real herisa conniving, scheming, attention-grabber with serious self-image issues. No one wants to be friends with someone who so clearly hates themselves as much as she does.
Which brings me back to my current problem: a buck-naked run across campus to my room for new clothes or a calculated play so I don’t burn a bridge with the hottie fox I’ve been waiting to see all week by being late to his class.
Duh, Dolly. Plan B for the fucking win.
I pull my phone out of the hidden compartment at the bottom of my gym bag, my fingers trailing over the ‘Fuck ‘Em Up, Sis’ list I stashed there with it. Somehow, I was paranoid enough to make certain the two things I can’t live without were hidden from anyone who wanted to make trouble. I wish I’d thought to hide my damn clothes somewhere as well, but lesson learned. Fishing around in my bag, I locate a pen and unfold the piece of paper storing the sins I’m owed penance for.
Fuck ‘Em Up, Sis List
Lucille (existing, shaming me, throwing godsdamned glasses, forcing me to look the ‘right’ way)
Bruno (everything, including threatening to send me to Bloodstone, fists, plus Bruiser)
Todd (lying, cheating, hunting me, shitty sex)
Heather E. (nicknaming me DD, “run rabbit”, being a twat, dosing me)
Heather B. (videos, sleazy dad, ordering my execution)
Heather H. (liar, behavior on stripper bus, hypocrite)
Heather C. (follower, didn’t help me)
Chaz, Chad, Brett (not knowing my name, hunting me, stripper bus)
With a level of rage that’s almost frightening, I add a few more to my list:
The dingoes who hunted me at the cafeteria (find out exactly who they were)
The civet and the bearcat from dance class who stole my clothes (names to follow)
The fuckers who pissed in my dorm room (all of the above are suspect)
EVERYONE—Anyone else who gets in my damn way.
I frown down at my list. I haven’t crossed any names off yet—in fact, I’ve only added more. You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs, though, and I’m bound to run across more people who deserve my wrath as I navigate this nightmare. I take a picture of the paper, just in case it ever gets discovered and destroyed, and fold it carefully before slipping it back into the secret compartment.
Now, it’s time to execute Plan B.
Tapping the first contact on my favorites list, I wait for the call to connect. Bash answers in less than two rings, and I chew my lip as he goes through his usual flirty banter before I interject. “Um, Bash? I have a problem.” My lips curve as he suggests a solution that willnothelp me get dressed—the opposite, in fact. “See, that’s the thing. I’m already naked and—NO! I don’t needthat,what I need is clothes. Some bitches swiped mine while I showered and I can’t be late for Professor Nicodemus’ class… ”
An angry growl rumbles over the line, and before I can finish my sentence, he’s hung up. I’m pretty sure that means he’s on his way, but while I’m waiting, I’ll see if I can at least find a way to—
“OPEN UP, CHERRY!”
Sweet baby Hermes, that was fast.
I walk over to the door, cracking it enough to glare suspiciously through the slit. “How did you get here so fast? Did you even bring me any clothes?”
