“Cut the bullshit and answer the question.”
She stuffs the gloves into the bucket with the rest of the cleaning materials.
“She was an unregistered from the wastelands,” Tristan says quietly.
This time she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t show any reaction at all, like Tristan didn’t just launch a freaking bomb.
“Unregistered?”
My gaze flicks between the two of them, trying to determine if this is some joke. But I don’t see any humor in either of their faces, all I see is a mirrored tension. The air is thick with it.
Tristan says he can feel her power and I don’t think he’s kidding. I feel it too. Sparking and fizzing in the air.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say.
“Have you seen her in any lessons, Spencer?” Tristan says. “The girl knows nothing. She’s not been educated or trained. She barely knows how to tie her own shoelaces.”
“I was trained just fine,” she snarls.
“By who?” Tristan snaps.
She looks away from him. “None of your business.”
“You’re making it our business.”
Her head snaps back our way, her jaw falling open in astonishment. “Are you serious? I want nothing to do with you meatheads–”
“Careful,” Tristan warns with another amused smile.
“You’re the ones poking around in my life, unable to seem to leave me alone.”
I glance at my friend. Is that true? This is the first time we’ve discussed the Pig Girl. She’s a nobody. A nuisance. Why would we bother?
Except he’s been keeping this scandalous piece of information quiet. Unregistered. If the other pupils in the school knew that, she’d be even more of an outcast than she already is. Usually, he’d be trading information like that all over the school. Usually, I’d be the first person he’d tell. Why the hell has he kept it quiet?
“You aren’t telling us something,” Tristan says. “You materialize out of nowhere. With a fucking pig and an attitude. You know nothing and yet …”
“And yet, what?”
Tristan points towards me. “Show her, Spencer.”
I scowl at him, but do as he says, lifting my shirt, this time for her to see.
She stares at the dark bruise on my stomach, her eyes widening in astonishment. “I didn’t do that,” she mumbles.
“What? You think I did it to myself just to fuck with you?”
She lifts angry eyes to mine. “Do you want me to show you all the bruises I have littering my body from all the times you’ve slammed me on the mat?”
“You want to get undressed, Pig Girl, you go right ahead.”
“It won’t heal,” Tristan says, having no patience for my games. “He’s tried and it won’t heal.”
“Then maybe,” she says, “he’s not as good at magic as he thinks he is.”
I throw my head back and laugh, Tristan’s chuckles joining mine.
“Oh the thought that you might not be as good at something as your big head would have you believe is amusing, huh?”