Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

I hadn’t cried when he pulled it.

But I retreated. I always flinched.

Laughter went off somewhere down the hall, and I glanced over, seeing some students loitering against the lockers. Girls in their school uniforms, skirts rolled up much shorter than the three inches above the knee we were allowed, and blouses too tight under their navy blue jackets.

I narrowed my eyes.

With heads together and smiling as they joked around with the guys, the whole group looked about as shallow as a rain puddle. Never deep enough to be more than what it was.

Shallow, boring, tedious, ignorant, and insipid. All the rich kids here were like that.

I watched Kenzie Lorraine lean into Nolan Thomas, her mouth moving over his like she was melting into him. She whispered against his lips, and his white teeth flashed thr

ough his little grin before he slid his hands around her waist and leaned back against the lockers. My heart skipped a small beat, and I felt my pencil bag, absently sliding it into my satchel without taking my eyes off them.

Shallow, boring, tedious, ignorant, and insipid.

I blinked, my expression softening as I watched them.

Happy, excited, brave, wild, and in heaven.

They looked seventeen.

And suddenly, for a moment, I wished I was them. Anyone other than me. No wonder hardly anyone at this school liked me. I was even tired of myself.

Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be really happy for just five minutes?

Her friends hung around, talking to his, but I only saw him and her, wondering how it felt. Even if it wasn’t true love, it had to feel good to be wanted.

But just then, Nolan opened his eyes. He looked over at me, meeting my gaze head on as if he knew I was here the whole time. The vein in my neck pounded, and I was frozen.

Shit.

He didn’t stop kissing her, though, holding my eyes as they moved together. Then…he winked at me, and I could see his smile through the kiss.

I rolled my eyes and looked away. Great. Emory Scott was a pervert. That’s what he’d say. Just what I needed.

I turned back to my locker, embarrassed, and slammed the door.

Everything ached, and I arched my back, trying to stretch the muscles, but just as I turned around to leave, a fist came down and knocked my books out of my arms.

I sucked in a breath, startled as I retreated a step on instinct.

Miles Anderson glared at me as he passed, but a smirk curled his lips, too.

“See something you like, stupid?” he taunted.

I clenched my jaw, trying to get control of the pounding in my chest, but the sudden fright made my stomach roll as his friends followed him, laughing.

His blond hair laid haphazardly over his forehead, while his blue eyes trailed down my form, and I knew exactly what he was taking stock of.

The outdated plaid pattern of my secondhand skirt.

The missing button on the cuff of my blouse that was two sizes too big.

My faded blue blazer with little pieces of thread sticking off the patch-ups I had to do from the previous owner.

My worn shoes, from all the walking because I had no car, and how I never wore makeup or did anything with my dark hair that just hung down my arms and in my face.