Page 74 of Shattered Stars
We join the back of the line as usual, expecting our dose of gloopy porridge. However, when we reach the front of the line today, the woman serving peers at my face, then a piece of paper pinned to the wall and says, “Are you Rhianna Blackwaters?”
“Yes,” I reply, glancing at Winnie again. Don’t tell me I’ve been assigned more kitchen duties.
“We were asked to save you this.” She reaches down and pulls out a plate piled high with omelet, croissants, bagels and fruit. “He didn’t know what you liked, so he told us to save a bit of everything.”
“Who did?” I ask, my stomach rumbling loudly as I stare at all that good-looking food.
The woman leans forward. “Mr. Kennedy,” she whispers.
I can’t help it. My gaze automatically snaps towards his favored seat in the middle of the hall. He’s leaning back in it, scrolling through his phone like he always does.
What the hell is going on with him today?
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll stick with porridge.”
“She will not,” Winnie says, snatching the plate off the counter and marching with it towards our seats before I can stop her.
“Winnie,” I say when I finally catch up with her. “I don’t want to accept anything from him.”
“You’re not turning down the first decent breakfast you’ve been served since you got here.” She picks up the croissant, oozing with butter, and tears it in half. “And also, you’re sharing it with me.”
I slump into my seat. “I don’t want to encourage him.”
“I don’t think someone like Tristan Kennedy needs encouragement.”
“Winnie, you’re meant to be on my side.”
My friend lowers the croissant from her mouth. There’s a big flake of pastry stuck to her lip but I decide not to tell her just yet.
“Rhi, I’m always on your side. I’ve always got your back. You don’t want anything to do with Tristan Kennedy, that is fine by me. I agree with you, he’s a jerk.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “But if he is another of your fated mates then–”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay, but we can at least enjoy the benefits while they last.” She hands me the other half of the croissant and I sink my teeth into it. It tastes heavenly. I could get used to food like this.
What I don’t thinkI can get used to is Tristan Kennedy popping up left, right and center. He’s there waiting for me outside the Great Hall after breakfast and outside each of my lessons too. At lunchtime, I’m once again treated to the best the canteen has to offer and then it’s back to him offering to carry my books every five seconds. I spend most of the day ignoring him. Hoping he’ll get the message.
He doesn’t. He’s back again the next day and the day after, despite the fact I’m giving him the cold shoulder and refusing to even acknowledge his existence, let alone talk to him.
Unfortunately, as much as I’m trying to ignore this situation, it’s pretty damn obvious to everyone else. At first, Tristan just receives the odd, peculiar glance but soon the corridors are alive with whispering every time I come strolling along with Tristan in my wake. And if the entire school has noticed that also means that one person won’t fail to have.
However, rather than confront me about it like she usually would, she steps up her campaign of intimidation. The bouncing bunnies are extra loud jogging past our room in the morning,talking in especially loud voices about how ugly, stupid and annoying I am. Whenever Tristan isn’t there, I’m bashed into as I walk down corridors or along hallways, and twice I trip when someone sticks a leg out in front of my path. My gym kit goes missing, earning a lecture and reprimand from Coach, and Pip’s food fails to be delivered like it usually is.
Tristan may think he’s doing me a favor by accompanying me everywhere but the number of bruises on my body would definitely suggest otherwise.
My time in the locker room is definitely the worst. Summer doesn’t seem to want Tristan knowing what she’s up to but he can’t follow me inside – although I get the impression he’s severely tempted – so Summer and her buddies can strike without consequence. There’s no more waterboarding or attempts to physically hurt me. It seems since I broke her nose, Summer is being a little more cautious with me. Or maybe she’s simply scared I’ll go crying to Tristan if she hurts me and Summer is definitely afraid of him.
By the end of the week, I’m seriously considering bunking off gym but Coach is one of the few teachers I really like at the academy and I’m not sure I could cope with another disappointed lecture from him. Ignoring Tristan, I steel myself for whatever Summer has waiting for me this morning.
I’m guessing it’s bad because when I enter the locker room it’s deadly quiet and one girl actually seems to be trembling.
Terrific. I consider turning right around but Summer’s already in my face.
She’s quite a bit taller than me and I don’t like the way I have to tilt my head back to look up at her. It gives her a sense of superiority. Like she needed any more.
“If it isn’t the school slut,” she hisses at me.
I roll my eyes. Honestly? I may have gained some sexual experience since arriving at the academy – okay, quite a fewsexual experiences (I haven’t been able to help but sneak round to Stone’s cabin nearly every night and despite his protests about being careful, he hasn’t exactly been turning me away) – but Summer doesn’t know that and it’s not like she is the Virgin Mary herself.
