Seriously Wicked by Tina Connolly Page B

really saw anything. But again, who was I to judge? My frustration swirled around in my brain.
    Jenah touched a finger to an invisible spot next to my shoulder, then shook her head. “Way too mustardy,” she said. “You and I. Need to cut class. You will tell me about the pig’s ears and the box of frogs.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, brushing her finger aside. “I can’t cut American history and you can’t cut English. You like English.”
    “That’s why I can cut it,” said Jenah. “But fine. We’ll meet after school. You’ve got something you need to share and I’m here for you.”
    The thought of sharing the awfulness that was the witch made my stomach churn. “I’ve got stupid algebra tutoring after school,” I said. I slung my backpack over my shoulders and turned. I tried to laugh off Jenah’s concern, but the words came out bitter and obviously false. “Anyway, there’s nothing to share.”
    I strode off to American history and I didn’t look back.
    *   *   *
    As always, American history was full of cheesy videos (I could’ve cut, I know), AP biology was fascinating, and gym was sweaty. Biology’s my all-time fave, so it trumped my worries about Devon and his pixie-frogs for an hour. But when we started running boring hurdles around the track in gym, it all came pouring back.
    Possibly it also didn’t help that Reese is in my hour of gym and she kept bringing girls up to me and telling me to tell them how cute Devon was.
    It’s obvious that the only reason Reese is popular is because she’s Sparkle’s best friend, and not to be catty, but I’m pretty sure the reason Sparkle’s best friends with a dingy sophomore like Reese is because she’s rich and Sparkle isn’t. Reese herself is nice to everyone because it’s easy to be. She doesn’t pick fights or humiliate girls just for fun. Sure, this makes her mostly harmless and fools a lot of people. But put a girl like Reese who’s nice because it’s convenient next to someone like Celeste at the grocery store who actually believes in doing good for people, and you’ll see the difference. I’m not saying Reese was nice to purposely cover up a big malicious black-hearted void, although I’ve known girls like that. I’m saying she was a dim bulb who gave no thought to moral right and wrong, and whose superficial manners happened to be pleasant. I wouldn’t trust her farther than I could throw her.
    Reese’s backbone today against her leader, Sparkle, was an unusual event, which is why I suspected it was demon inspired.
    Because the rule of thumb here at Triple H is this: whatever Sparkle says, is so.
    I told three girls on the hurdles that yes, Devon had green eyes, two girls in the shower that yes, Devon had floppy black hair, and one extra-persistent girl that no, I did not know his email, or his shampoo type, or whether or not he would like gifts of soda and cheese whirls left next to his locker.
    By the time I got to the algebra classroom I was Devoned out. It was a relief to see someone sitting in Rourke’s room who was guaranteed not to ask me about Devon.
    “Kelvin? Are you waiting for the tutor, too?”
    “Kelvin is the tutor,” Kelvin said in his robot voice.
    “Very funny. But I’m on to your sense of humor.”
    “I am,” he said normally. His black sleeves were rolled partway up, revealing a retro plastic watch. “Is it just chapter three you need help with, or do we need to go back farther than that?”
    “No, just chapter three,” I said. “I understand the other stuff from Algebra One. I had Mrs. O’Malley for that and it went A-OK.” I dropped my backpack on a desk, smelling the familiar math classroom scents of dry-erase dust and root beer. I parked my butt on the skinny pink back of a chair, where I could see the hallway through the open door over Kelvin’s shoulder. I was still confused. “Rourke said the tutor was sick yesterday—but I saw you after school.”
    Kelvin looked behind