Blue Moon by Alyson Noël

nowhere near Damen’s speed. He’d probably prefer something a little more racy. Something with a lot more lace and a lot less cotton. Something that could actually be considered
sexy.
And without even looking, I know Stacia and her faithful lapdog have followed.
    â€œAw, look, Honor. Freak can’t decide between skanky or sweet.” Stacia shakes her head and smirks at me. “Trust me, when in doubt,always go with skanky. It’s pretty much a sure thing. Besides, from what I recall about Damen, he’s not so big on sweet.”
    I freeze, my stomach clenching with unreasonable jealousy as my throat squeezes tight. But only for a moment before I force myself to resume breathing and browsing, refusing to let her think, even for a second, that her words might’ve gotten to me.
    Besides, I know all about what happened between them, and I’m happy to report that it was neither skanky nor sweet. Mostly because it wasn’t anything at all. Damen merely
pretended
to like her so he could get to me. And yet, just the thought of him even pretending still makes me queasy.
    â€œCome on, let’s go. She can’t hear you,” Honor says, scratching her arm and glancing between Stacia and me, then checking her phone for the hundredth time to see if Craig answered her text.
    But Stacia remains rooted, enjoying herself far too much to give up so easily. “Oh, she can hear me just fine,” she says, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Don’t let the iPod and earbuds fool you. She can hear everything we say and everything we think. Because Ever’s not just a freak, she’s also a witch.”
    I turn away and head for the other side of the store, browsing a rack of push-up bras and corsets, telling myself:
Ignore her, ignore her, just focus on shopping and she’ll go away
.
    But Stacia’s not going anywhere. Instead, she grabs hold of my arm and pulls me right to her, saying, “Come on, don’t be shy.
Show
her. Show Honor what a freak you are!”
    Her eyes stare into mine, sending a flood of disturbing dark energy coursing right through me as she squeezes my arm so tight her thumb and index finger practically meet. And I know she’s trying to bait me, incite me, aware of exactly what I’m capable of after that time when I lost control in the hallway at school. Only that time she didn’t do it on purpose—she had no idea what I could do.
    Honor starts to fidget, standing beside her and whining, “Come on, Stacia. Let’s go. This is
bor
-ing.”
    But Stacia ignores her and grips my arm harder, her nails pressing into my flesh as she whispers, “Go on, tell her. Tell her what you see!”
    I close my eyes, my stomach swirling as my head fills with images similar to the ones I saw before: Stacia scratching and clawing her way to the top of the popularity pyramid, stomping much harder than necessary on all those beneath her. Including Honor,
especially
Honor, who’s so afraid of being unpopular she does nothing to stop it . . .
    I could tell her what a horrible friend Stacia really is, expose her for the awful person I know her to be. . . . I could pry Stacia’s hand from my arm and fling her across the room so hard she’d fly straight through the plate glass window before crashing into the mall directory. . . .
    Only I can’t. The last time I let loose at school, when I told Stacia all the awful things I know about her, it was a colossal mistake—one I don’t have the luxury of making again. There’s so much more to hide now, much bigger secrets at stake—secrets that belong not only to me but to Damen as well.
    Stacia laughs as I fight to stay calm and not overreact. Reminding myself that while appearing weak is okay, giving in to weakness is definitely
not.
It’s absolutely imperative to appear normal, clueless, and allow her the illusion that she’s so much stronger than me.
    Honor