Page 64 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

“He’s…” Wicked.

“That’s devious,” she says. “To be one way at school and another after? What is he trying to do? Confuse the hell out of you?”

“I guess. The bullying is getting worse. Sooner or later, Robert is going to notice.”

She winces as we park. “Eh, teachers don’t hear everything—”

“But they hear enough.”

Across the parking lot, Caleb and his friends walk toward the courtyard. He’s absorbed in a conversation with Eli. Amelie trots over and throws herself at him, a move he narrowly dodges. I’ll give him credit: he makes it seem like a happy accident.

He says something and she rears back, distain flashing across her face.

“Wonder what that’s about?” I ask.

We eat in the car, stuffing the trash in her backseat before we climb out. Dread climbs up my throat. We slip along the edge of the courtyard, finding an empty spot to stand. Riley drops her backpack on the ground, lifting her shoulders.

“The amount of homework they make us do,” she says. “I need a study hall at the end of the day. That would solve so much.”

I shrug. “There’s always next year.”

“Are we going to that party on Friday?” Riley asks. “Eli mentioned it…”

Her cheeks turn red when I stare at her.

“What?” she mumbles.

“When did Eli mention it?” I can’t help the sly grin that crawls over my lips. “Is he being nice now?”

“I guess. He mentioned it while you were hiding away from the world. You know, ignoring your best friend and stuff.” She elbows me.

I shake my head. “Yeah, sorry about that. It just…” My voice trails off.

Ian Fletcher saunters toward us.

“What does he want?”

Riley finds who I’m looking at. “Oh no.”

“Hey, Sheep,” Ian calls.

I swear, everyone stops what they’re doing and stares.

“What’re you going to do now that your fifteen minutes of fame are over?”

My palms sweat.

Ian keeps coming. “You gonna move on to someone else?”

“Go away, Fletcher,” Riley snaps.

He scoffs. “I’ll tell ya, Sheep. Keep your whore pussy away from me and my friends. God knows you’ve caused enough damage.”

“That’s a new one,” I say.

He gets in my space, leaning down so we’re face to face. “I’ve been wondering what’d you do to make your coke-whore mom run away. But then I realized…” He pauses and grins at me. “It’s just a fucking personality defect.”

Images of my mother leaving flash in front of my face. My dad’s grip around my waist as I screamed and begged for her to stay.