Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(20)

Seeing her fuming form made me cringe. Hell has no fury like a woman’s scorn. Ryland’s dismissal of her yesterday was going to cost me big.

“So, you thought you could show everyone how popular you are by paying some rich stripper to come pick you up?”

“He’s not a stripper.” The words escaped me without warning. While I should have been surprised that I had chosen to stand up for Ryland before myself, I was more surprised that I had responded to her taunts; I hadn’t done that in years. That fact didn’t escape Cynthia’s notice either; her face lit up in joyous expectation for the coming fight.

“Prostitute, stripper; it’s all the same.” She walked up to me, her high-heeled foot swinging wide in a poor attempt at a kick.

I swung out of the way, sliding against the floor and into the crowd who stood me up and pushed me toward Cynthia. I rammed into her hard, the push from the crowd giving her the perfect opportunity to slam a tiny, angry fist into my stomach. I cringed, but it didn’t hurt much. I had been sucker-punched harder by Ryland when I was eight and we were fighting over Ninja Turtles.

Without any warning, Cynthia began clawing and slapping at my face, the only exposed skin on my entire body. I yelped in a panic and tried to fight back as best I could, but it was no use. She was hell-bent on turning me into her scratching post. I pushed her away from me before her attack could get any worse, the palm of my hand slapping hard against her cheek.

“Leave me alone; at least I have friends who will stand up for me.” It was a lame retort and I knew it, but I couldn’t think beyond the burning in my face.

“Well, he sure isn’t your boyfriend. After all, who could love an ugly, useless, insignificant, little nothing?” She hit me hard in the stomach, and this time, I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me. I heard the crowd around us yell as I fell to my knees, my eyes watering.

Cynthia walked up to me and lowered herself down to whisper in my ear with her bottom stuck out precariously, causing several of the boys to whistle. “Your own father didn’t love you, why would anyone else?”

My blood boiled under my skin. The truth of her words dug into me and fueled the intense pain and anger I always kept hidden. I could feel the necklace grow warm against my skin, the warmth fueling my intensity. Without thinking, I slammed my hand into her stomach in a pointless attempt to hurt her, to get her away from me, to humiliate her somehow. Instead of her scuttling across the floor on her ridiculous heels like I had hoped, she flew ten feet straight into the air. Her back slammed against the ceiling tiles before she fell like a rock to the ground.

The crowd went quiet.

I stared in horror at Cynthia’s motionless form. My heart thumped wildly as I desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened. I didn’t know what had happened, but I did know I needed to get out of there.

I didn’t even bother to meet any of the curious stares that were trained on me, and I didn’t stop to check if Cynthia was all right. I just grabbed my bag, shoved the few things that had been scattered around the hall back into it and took off.

I held the bag against me as I power-walked away, my head down in my normal attempt to blend in. I hadn’t lost control like that in a long time. Okay, I hadn’t lost control like that ever. Throwing someone ten feet in the air? That didn’t just happen, right? I had heard of women lifting cars off injured people and defending themselves in times of danger; it didn’t seem likely, but that must have been what had just happened to me.

I could feel the angry warmth leech out of me as I walked; my skin, less persistent in its attempt to crawl away. The necklace that always seemed to echo my moods so perfectly faded from a white, angry heat into a warm, calming sensation.

I turned into the hall that housed my locker, unsurprised to see Wyn leaning against the locker next to mine, her eyebrows about as far up as they could get. Had news of my superhuman feat spread that fast? I just ignored her and caught my breath; I had no intention of discussing what had just happened.

“Tall, dark and handsome, eh?” Obviously, she hadn’t heard yet.

“Don’t start, Wyn,” I snapped.

“Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” she spouted out her questions, but even I, the new friend, could tell she was restraining herself; she was dying to ask a million more.

“His name is Ryland and he is my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

“Didn’t look like a not boyfriend to me,” she said cryptically.

“He was trying to piss off Cynthia, just like you did.” I snapped my locker door shut.

“Oooo, a kindred spirit.” Wyn smiled as she fell into step beside me. “I like him more and more.”

“Not my boyfriend,” I reminded her.

“Yet,” she said pointedly. “See you at lunch!” She waved at me before running down the math hallway, leaving me to walk alone to English.

I slid into my seat just as the bell rang, my heavy book slamming into the old wooden desk. Mr. Heart hadn’t arrived yet, so I smoothed my hair and wiped my palm against my face to check for blood.

Even before Cynthia’s little catfight, I had been the recipient of taunts and insults all morning; all ranging from asking how much he cost to wondering how I did it. I didn’t give anyone answers and had kept my hood up more than usual. My carefully crafted “disappear into the walls” routine had been broken wide open. I sighed and slammed my head onto the desk as Mr. Heart walked in, silencing the class immediately.