Cursed to the Bone

37. Rigged

Once the bulk of students returned from break, Tedric Halsey assigned me the dubious honor of doling out exam schedules. It terrified me. Given that my name was back in the rumor mill, I decided I would hurry through it and retreat to my bed for a lengthy nap. I didn't bother knocking and hand-delivering the schedules. No way. I moved fast, ignoring those who were awake to see me. For the most part, those I passed gave me wide-berth. There were whispers, of course, but nothing outwardly derisive. Not until I got to the fourth floor.

The fourth floor was comprised entirely of the senior class, and it was there that some choice words were slung about with the hostility of a bunch of mean-spirited children. One boy, in particular, had the audacity to call me a Grave Robber. I laughed, earning a sneer, but how couldn't I? The insult was silly. But the way they looked at me like I took something that wasn't mine to take infuriated me. As if it had been my choice! Stalking the halls, I crammed letters into mail-chutes and ignored the cruel jabs and stares of passing seniors.

As I moved on to the next, the door opened and someone pushed me into the room. I almost lashed out until I came face-to-face with Rayna Suarez, who looked at me with a pitying stare and stepped around me. Allowing rage to guide me, I glared back. What did she want? To rub my situation in my face? To hurt me? She'd certainly be in for a surprise if that were the case.

"Here."

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect her to offer a tissue. I eyed the box like a foreign object and lifted my stare to hers.

Rayna pursed her lips. "You look like you need a good cry."

I tilt my head back and smirked. There was no way I was about to cry in front of Rayna. "What is this? Pity?"

"I'd say you deserve some pity, you brat."

Brat? I bit out half a laugh and declined the tissue before fishing out the exam schedule for her dorm. I could appreciate this honest version of herself—even if she had ulterior motives. "This isn't going to win you a story."

"In case you missed it, the story's out. Besides, you're not the only hated witch to grace these halls. They've loathed me since my sophomore year."

I handed her the envelope. "Why's that?"

Rayna ripped the thing open and unfolded the schedules. "Because I write for the school paper and I'm shrewd." She snickered. "I outed a secret society and its entire list of members—past and present."

"Do you intend to become a journalist when you leave here?"

"Yep. I have just enough warding and dueling talent to be a journalist and to do it safely. One day, I'll work for The Origin Review."

Maybe it was because of my sister and our seedy history, but I hated journalists. But this one—Rayna—I may have misjudged. My shoulders sagged. It was annoying to see her so defeated. "It's funny, after declaring you'd be there to witness the end, that you'd quit now."

Rayna cocked her head to the side, her eyes sharpened. "Well, what's the point? Like I said, the story is out."

"Is it?" I stepped backward and twisted the knob. "See you around."

Rayna reached for me. "Wait—"

I didn't linger to answer any questions she might have had. I left her room and continued my route, feeling a smidge better than I did before. Hopefully, encouraging a journo wouldn't backfire.