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SAGE'S hand was healed in a matter of days. The Neosporin and gauze had certainly done its job against the second-degree burn, and soon she was able to flex her fingers with no problem. For the few days where her dominant hand healed, she thought it might be a brilliant idea to teach herself to write with the other hand. That hadn't turned out as well as she hoped.
Coincidentally, Sage also hadn't spoken a word to Edward Cullen over those few days. She wasn't naturally a suspicious person, but she couldn't stop herself from assuming that maybe her wound healed so quickly because she wasn't dealing with the stress of simply talking to him. (Not only did she always find herself fixated on his eyes, but the guy's personality was always hot and cold. Just being in a room with him was anxiety-inducing.) This space was a good thing. He had acted like an asshole and she didn't want to be friends with an asshole. She didn't really want friends to begin with, but something about those charming, golden eyes ... And here she goes, thinking about his eyes again!
Edward Cullen was an ass. Point blank. Sage didn't need that in her life.
"I can't believe you tried teaching yourself to write with your left hand," Blaire Ateara giggled through the speaker on her purple flip phone. "This girl I met at a summer camp told me she went to some Catholic school in Sappho and they slapped your left hand if you wrote with it. Something about it being the 'Devil's Hand.'"
Sage snorted as she began to, weirdly enough, paint the nails on her left hand a deep mauve color. (Blaire always said it was her color.) She was supposed to be doing her math homework for tomorrow, but instead, she decided to use her notebook as a barrier between her hand and her comforter. Her dad hated when she got nail polish on the sheets, and it happened far too often.
"I wanted to teach myself a new skill. Sue me," she replied, blowing on her fingertips for them to dry faster.
"Duly noted," Blaire said. "Hey, have you, by any chance, been following the Seattle murders? My grandad cannot stop talking about it."
