Page 93 of Lessons in Cruelty

“What?” I keep my eyes ahead, but my voice is aimed at her.

“I’m a sore loser. Also highly competitive. I refuse to fail. But you’re nice, and so if it’s us next…I’m really sorry.”

Holy fucking shit.

“Uh…yeah…me too.”

“What?”

“What?”

Kai clears his throat. “Our first contender is starting off strong. They’ve,” he puts the next in air quotes, “sent nude pics to a teacher.”

Silence.

Utter, enthralled silence.

Can Melissa hear my pounding heart? I hope not, because it would be a dead giveaway.

I wrote that, and I don’t even know if it’s true.

Movement catches my eye. She’s glancing over her shoulder, staring up at the students, trying to see who looks guiltiest.

Either she’s a fantastic actress, or I assumed wrong when I wrote that secret down.

“Not too bad, not too bad,” Kai says, nodding appreciatively as he shuffles the two slips in his hand. “But is it worse than someone,” air quotes again, “’secretly living out of their car?’”

Ice shoots through my veins and collects in my fingers, prickling painfully.

To Kai’s credit, he somehow manages not to look at me.

It would be a wild fucking coincidence, statistically unprecedented, for two students to be living out of their cars at this prestigious college.

And they’re both in the same class.

And they also assumed their partner sent nude pics to a teacher.

But Kai might as well have looked, pointed, and called me up to the fucking lectern, because when those first chuckles begin, it feels like they’re laughing right in my face.

I try to pull my hand out of Melissa’s as discreetly as possible, but she refuses to let go.

And then she starts laughing too.

I’m biting the inside of my lip so hard I taste copper. Everything inside my stomach is turning to lead, and I don’t know if I’m going to pass out or puke. Maybe one, then the other.

But when I throw the tiniest little peek over my shoulder, no one’s looking at me.

They’re all looking at Kai.

Because he’s laughing so hard, he has to hold on to the lectern for support.

“Out of their car!” he roars. “Bullshit!” He holds up the slip of paper, folded again so no one can see my name. “I call bullshit.”

My breath hitches in my chest, my hand tightening in Melissa’s, hers gripping me back even tighter.

“Laugh,” Melissa whispers furiously at me. “Laugh!”

I let out an uneasy ha-ha.