“Ask.”
“What happened to your ear?” I nod to his left ear. He tucks his hair back behind his right ear, and I see the right ear has the same rippled deformity.
“Cauliflower ear. Too much fighting without head protection.” So he is a fighter. Good to know.
I open my mouth to ask another question, but my alarm goes off. I silence it and frown. “I’m supposed to meet my friend at the library.” The reluctance is clear in my voice.
He dips his chin.
I sigh and reach into my backpack for my wallet. “Can I?—”
His glare freezes me. You’d think I was reaching for a weapon.
“Okay, thank you for breakfast. And answering at least some of my questions.” I scrunch my eyes at him. I’m watching you, buster.
He’s not phased in the least. “Goodbye, Belladonna.”
I’m halfway to the university before I realize I never told him my name.
7
Bella
* * *
“So that’s the story of my stalker,” I tell Honey later. We’re in our favorite corner of the cavernous university library, whispering. The library attendants are all wearing dark robes with a bright yellow stripe that makes them look like bumble bees. Every so often, one buzzes by and tells us to hush.
We’re ignoring them so I can tell Honey all about my brunch date.
She’s chewing her lip, looking distressed on my behalf. “What if he’s dangerous?”
“Oh, he’s definitely dangerous. But I can handle it.” I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Literally, I’m carrying a vial of a botanical blend made from the extract of hemlock. It’s less bitter, so it can be slipped into a cup of coffee. I could’ve poisoned Blondie at any point in our conversation.
But I haven’t explained to Honey the extent of my venefica studies yet, so I just say, “So far he hasn’t hurt me. The opposite, in fact. I thought he was hired to be my bodyguard, but he denied it.” He already knows that I’m trouble. I haven’t tried very hard to hide my supervillain tendencies for some reason. I wanted him to see it. To know me.
Usually, I do my evil deeds in secret, hiding them from everyone, including my father. But that moment in the poison garden, I wanted him to know. We were co-conspirators, and it felt wonderful. “Maybe it’s not smart, but I want to see him again. Maybe he’ll try to hurt me, but maybe not. Yolo!”
“Yolo?” Honey looks amused.
“Yeah. It means ‘You only live once’.”
“I know that. It’s just… people don’t really say that anymore.”
“What do they say then?”
“Ummm, DIFTP. Do it for the plot.”
I repeat what she said, but it doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as YOLO. “The plot?”
“Like, in a book.”
“Like a romance novel?” I love romance novels. I’m about to tell her about Thorbjorn, the muscular blond hero on the cover of Viking Thunder, when she asks, “What did his tattoos look like? Did he have any skulls on his hands?”
“Nope. But he did have a skull ring.”
“Oh! He’s Fraternitas.” She looks a bit more relieved, but then her forehead crinkles, like she’s puzzled.
“What’s Fraternitas?” I ask. The word sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
