The website also had some deeper and morethought-provokingcontent on the Spartans—sketches of their naked penises submitted by humans after firsthand accounts.
Not that I’d looked.
Okay, I’d looked once, but I’d screamed and powered down the public library computer.
Fine, I’d restarted it just so I could look again.
Maybe, I’d had a lengthy debate with the librarian over whether penises looked like misshapen snails (she was team sea cucumbers).
Sure, I’d then spent five days in a row checking the page because I couldn’t believe men really had such thingsbetween their legs.
Yes,this had all happened last week. No, I didn’t want to talk about it; I was still mourning my innocence.
“Everyone,shut up, I’m trying to sleep,” Nyx moaned loudly, purely for dramatic effect, since we both knew I was the only one who could hear her.
Hidden beneath my holey oversize sweatshirt, she coiled herinvisible snake body tighter around my stomach. I gasped at the sudden asphyxiation.
“Stop it,” I whispered down to her. “I’m trying to concentrate on this equation.”
Was I the only person in the world these days who respected math?
“If that girl squeals one more time,” Nyx said, “I’m going to kill her. I don’t care what you say, kid. It’s happening.”
I shook my head. “Her name is Taylor.”
“Fine,” Nyx hissed. “I’m going to killTaylorslowly and painfully—is that better?”
Nyx snapped at the air. Her solution to everything was to bite someone to death. She’d never acted on the impulse, mostly because I physically restrained her from doing so.
Although, I had my suspicions that Mr. Jones the hall monitor hadn’t just “dropped dead randomly” in the cafeteria three years ago after he’d made fun of my stutter, but Nyx swore innocence and I’d never been able to prove anything.
“Mr. Brewer?” Timothy, the school quarterback (Tim-Tom in my head), asked with a chagrined expression. “Can we play the video on the projector so everyone can see the Chthonics annihilate the Titans?”
“Do whatever you want, you’re seniors,” said Mr. Brewer, who was eating his breakfast sausage loudly.
“Can I bite a student now?” Nyx asked.
Discreetly, as all teenagers are known to do, I banged my invisible homicidal snake best friend against the desk to stop her from crushing me to death because I wouldn’t let her murder my classmates.
Things were not well.
Mr. Brewer turned off the lights, and students whispered with excitement as the projector turned on—the Spartan Lifestyle Page was magnified across the screen.
“I can’t believe this is going to be the Crimson Duo,” Tim-Tom whispered to his friend. “It’s the first sighting since January.”
Four entire months—it’s a miracle we’ve all survived.
Warmth slid against the front of my neck. “I want to see,” Nyx said as her invisible head peeked out the neck of my hoodie.
I glanced around, nervous that someone had noticed a strange snake-sized bulge in my clothes.
No one was looking at me.
The class stared forward with dilated pupils. The neon-green light of the projector reflected off their glassy, wide-eyed expressions.
Crack.
We jumped in our seats.
