Crown of Thorns

After I pour myself a generous helping of Froot Loops, I join him at the table.

The silence is suffocating, but I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what I should even be feeling. Happy that he’s still around? Angry for all the time he wasn’t? Sad because our grandmother’s not here with us?

There’s also a part of me that wants him to stay long term, even though I know it won’t happen and that it’s a terrible idea. Jasper is secretive about all the things he’s into these days, but I’ve heard rumors and vividly recall the people that used to show up at the house looking for him.

None are good, so I chew my cereal in silence, occasionally checking the time on my phone so I won’t be late for the shuttle van.

“You should go visit Nina,” I say casually once I’m done eating, though there’s nothing casual about the request. “She’s at La Costa. You know she’d love to see you.”

Jasper drops his jaw in mock surprise. “She wake up and tell you that shit herself? You should have said something, I would have rushed right over.” By the time he grinds out the last few words, he’s wearing that sneer again.

His easy dismissal of Nina infuriates me.

“And just when I think you couldn’t possibly manage to surprise me.” I leave the table and grab my backpack from the counter. Giving him my back, I add, “I’ll see you later—if you’re still here.”

His response stops me in my tracks. “Have a good day, Yossy.”

It’s that old nickname that does me in, the one he used when we were younger, and he was protecting me. I glance over my shoulder, baffled that he said something so normal in a tone that isn’t dripping with spite. He’s still not looking at me and seems very focused on his nearly empty bowl.

“Yeah, thanks,” I mumble at last.

Then, I twist away from him again and leave.

“Ugh, even you have to admit he’s gorgeous, Joss.”

“Who? That meathead from the party? What was his name again?”

“No, idiot,” Margaret laughs. “Phoenix. I only pretended to be interested in Trevor to get the invite to the party. Weren’t you listening to anything Gia and I’ve said the last five minutes?”

No, and Gia wasn’t either since she just skulked off, claiming she has to get back to her dorm to start her homework. Guess she forgot that none of our teachers give homework on the first day. Ever.

Despite the new additions, our official return to school wasn’t all that hectic. Now that grades seven through nine are on the former Thornhaven grounds, we basically have the same number of students. Still, today was … different. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many fake eyelashes and modified uniform skirts on our campus.

Kallista’s was so short, I half-expected to see her underwear when she approached our table at lunch. For a split second, she’d glared directly at me. Like I was a smudge of shit on the bottoms of her Jimmy Choo Mary Janes, and she was fully prepared to remind me of that. I’d held my breath, worried that she’d bring up what I said at Phoenix’s party. Instead, she picked a piece of lint off her skirt, flicked it so that it landed on my tray, and zeroed in on Margaret.

“Cheer practice is in the fitness center this afternoon,” she sneered. “If you’re late, you’ll run laps until you puke. You could use both.”

Kallista had sauntered off without another word or another glance in my direction. I was fine with that because that’s what I’m used to—being invisible.

What I’m not used to is my best friend fawning over an asshole.

The name on everyone’s lips today was Phoenix Townsend, and he ate that shit up, peacocking in the halls like he owns the place and rapidly amassing a cult of loyal followers. Other than the fact he’s mind-numbingly hot and makes a blazer and khakis look like sin, I have no clue as to why anyone wants to be around him.

Every time I’ve seen him, he’s either staring down his nose at everyone around him, or he’s wearing this awful scowl as if he’d like nothing more than to bash some skulls in. Arrogant and temperamental. That appears to be his two-speeds, and I know better than most how that can be a volatile combination.

Phoenix is truly terrible.

Before the first bell rang, he turned a pretty blonde junior into Thornwood’s Cersei La

“You can stop pretending with that fucking promise ring, Nash. Her promise was broken many, many times before me,” he’d drawled.

He left them arguing in the middle of the hall, and I’d shuddered at the grin on his face as he pushed his way through the crowd to head to class.

I came dangerously close to leaving the only class I share with him—AP Spanish during fourth block. He passed on introducing himself to the class in Spanish. His excuse was that “English is the language of business,” his business paid the teachers’ salaries, and he didn’t need an introduction.

Ninety percent of our class cheered him on.

Mrs. De León didn’t make him leave for his pompous-ass remark.

And he had walked out of class trailed by Harmony Dorsey, my chemistry partner from last year, who said she had something to show him in the new wrestling room. Because no first day of school is complete without giving the disrespectful asshole who’d publicly humiliated a girl a BJ and getting ringworms on both knees in the process.

Narrowing my eyes, I lean back against the row of gray lockers next to Margaret’s. She’s too busy rummaging around for a hair tie to see the look I’m giving her. “You realize he’s a total dick, right? Plus, he dated Kallista’s sister.”

I’m good at remaining blissfully unaware of who’s dating who, but Kristyn McKay is A) hateful and B) braggy enough to let everyone know she was fucking the heir to Townsend Investments every five seconds.

“That’s, like, the Citadel of California,” she used to say.

Gag.

Margaret emerges from her locker clutching a blue scrunchie. She pulls her long, reddish-brown hair away from her face and into a low ponytail, snorting when a group of boys walking by ogles her ass. She’s in workout clothes—tight pants and a sports bra that’s navy and white, the school colors. “Better a total dick than one of those pubes. Besides, who gives a shit what Kristyn thinks? Do you see her around?”

“She graduated.” Thank God.

Margaret slams the locker door shut and spins the lock a few times. “Exactly. She’s at Stanford, probably getting triple-stuffed while Kallista tries to fuck her ex-boyfriend.”

“Seriously?” I mutter, and she gives a slow nod, her ponytail sweeping her bare shoulders. “Okay, then you definitely don’t want to get involved with that dick if—”

“Ahh, and speaking of dicks…” she cuts in, her blue eyes widening a little as they lock on something over my shoulder.

I instantly regret turning around. My whole body locks up with tension because Alaric Hartley is sauntering down the hallway, looking like he doesn’t have any fucks to give about anything. I suppose he doesn’t. He was worshiped just as much as Phoenix today.

Margaret whistles. “He really is pretty.”

I mean, she’s not wrong, but I tear my gaze from him and blink at her. “What happened to Phoenix?”