The Truth About Kian

07. Listen as the crowd would sing

:: C H A P T E R  S E V E N | LISTEN AS THE CROWD WOULD SING ::

Almost an entire week went by before I spoke to Liam again. I wasn't interested in approaching him and he always avoided my eyes when we passed each other in the hallway.

It was fine. I'd survived without speaking to him for nearly a decade and a half. Never speaking to him again wouldn't kill me. In fact, it was probably the smartest option.

I was still working on the article, and I was actually getting somewhere with the help from Kian's journal. I still felt guilty when I opened it, but as I reminded myself, it wasn't like I was planning to publish parts of it in the newspaper. I was just using it to better understand Kian. That didn't mean that the article was anywhere close to being done, but I'd managed to get an extension.

On the downside, I had to watch my back way more than I usually did. Meg was on the warpath, and she was downright determined to get me back for dragging her to Mrs. Brennan's office.

Because you didn't think that Meg was the one responsible for the extension, did you?

And just to clear things up, I'd only gotten the extension after battling with Headmistress Harrison and Mrs. Brennan about it. I'd claimed that if they wanted me to do a good job on the feature, they were going to have to give me more time.

I was expecting to pay for my audacity any day now.

Several of the Inheritors were sitting in the back row — which was odd — when I slipped into the French classroom. Liam was among them, but he didn't look up when I found my spot next to the window. I was careful to check my seat before I sat down. The Inheritors had been known to film me sitting on a whoopee cushion. It didn't sound that bad, but it had been — especially after they had posted in on Facebook. And Instagram. And Vine. And basically any other social media site in existence.

"Nice shoes, Reed," Eva called. "Did the Salvation Army have a sale?"

I flipped through my binder miserably. Cliché or not, the insults still stung.

"Isn't her hair just darling?" Meg cooed. "It's, like, the colour of chocolate."

"Or shit," added Eva. I could hear Skylar guffawing. I inched down in my seat. Skylar was a borderline have not who only managed to fit in with the Inheritors because he did whatever they told him to do and he could be considered somewhat cute. He made my stomach twist in disgust. And fear.

It was then that I noticed the terrible smell that seemed to be coming from underneath my desk. Cautiously, I felt under my desk until my fingers accidentally touched something slick and soft.

I didn't have to be a rocket scientist to connect the dots. They'd spread poop on the bottom of my desk.

The bell rang and other students entered the room. I kept my hand tucked below the rim of my chair, hoping that no one would notice the telltale brown stain on my fingertips. My cheeks were hot, sweat trickled down my neck and I kept my eyes on my binder.

I was angry. Liam had clearly not meant his shitty apology written on his shitty little apology note. Had I heard anything from him this class? Anything? I certainly hadn't heard him say, "hey maybe we shouldn't stick cow shit under Reed's desk."

This was shaping up to be one of the best French classes ever. And class hadn't even started yet.

Mrs. Fraser hurried in with her binders tucked under one arm while her after-lunch coffee was clutched in her other hand. I was hoping that it would keep her occupied until class ended and I could get rid of the Inheritors' latest prank.