“Multiplication,” he repeats flatly.
“Or... subtraction?”
He shakes his head. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s pretty much been threatened into doing this by the school to avoid expulsion, I suspect he’d be packing his bag and marching out of this café right now. “I was teaching you about binomial probability.”
“Right. Yeah. That thing.”
“You seem distracted.”
I grimace.By you,I want to add, but of course I can’t. “I just feel a bit tired,” I say, which is true. Ever since that first night at the lake, there’s been a persistent throbbing in my temples, like I’m suffering through the world’s worst hangover, without any of the fun of getting drunk. “Sorry,” I sayagain, trying to sound like I mean it. “I promise I’ll focus starting now—”
But before I can even look at the math textbook again, whispers float over from the table beside us.
“Is that her?”
“I swear it is.”
“No, really. She looks exactly like she does in her photos.”
I swivel my head toward the voices and identify the trio of girls who’d been loudly snapping photos of their strawberry crepe cake earlier. They were very committed too, with one of them tapping the whipped cream with her spoon, while the other carefully poured the chocolate sauce over the plate, and the third stood up on her chair to find the perfect angle. But now they’ve completely forgotten their cake to gawk at me.
“Do you really just have fans everywhere?” Ares asks, following my gaze.
“I can’t help that I’m famous,” I say as the whispers grow louder. I’m fairly certain one of them is taking a video of me, from the way her phone is angled.
Ares rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s not helping you concentrate on math. Maybe we should study somewhere less... public. Like the school library—”
“Libraries put me to sleep,” I tell him. “I’m not exaggerating,” I add when he throws me a disbelieving look. “One of the longest naps I’ve ever taken was at the back of a library.”
“What about your house then?” Ares suggests.
Everything in me seizes, panic striking my stomach. He can’t find out where my house is, or else he’ll recognize itfrom the vision. And he’ll know where to go to burn it down. “My mom’s filming this new variety show at our house,” I lie on the spot. “It’s even more chaotic than the café. How about your house?” My prom plan flashes through my head.Step eight: Get invited to his house; hook up there.I’d been meaning to work my way up to it, but math tutoring could be the perfect excuse to secure an invite, and once I’m there... The idea of hooking up had seemed pretty straightforward when I first conceived my plan, a purely strategic move, but now it sends a jolt of something hot and wild and electric up my spine. Like anticipation.
Ares hesitates, then checks the time on his phone. “I’ll... let you know,” he says, distracted. “But I need to head off in a few minutes.”
“Where to?”
Either he hasn’t heard me, or he’s avoiding the question on purpose. “Come on,” he says, tapping the notebook spread open between us. “Let’s try this equation one last time before I go.”
11
Ares
Ares stares down at his first opponent.
A man, but just barely, with weak stubble and stooped shoulders and badly dyed straw-blond hair, the black roots already starting to peek out like weeds. College-aged, if he even goes to college. Heavier than Ares is, which could be a problem, but he knows from experience that it could also mean he’s slower.
The man stares back, his teeth bared and yellow, his fists raised. On his thumb, he wears the same ring Ares had been given upon initiation: rusted silver, a dragon carved into the band.
“Last chance to place your bets,” Sangui calls out from the shadows of the Cave.
“I’m going with the new boy,” someone says.
“Thatkid? Nah, his face is a little too symmetrical,” someone else remarks.
This earns him an obnoxious cackle that echoes off the grimy walls.
“What’s a symmetrical face got anything to do with it?”
