The Wicked Trilogy by S. Massery
Margo
The next week of school,Caleb Asher ignores me. Not a glance. Not a whisper. No insults, no name-calling—nothing.
It rattles me more than I admit. I have to wonder if he somehow read my mind: maybe he’s the one who just started a war, before I ever had a chance to act out a plan.
After a few days, Riley and I start to enjoy our newfound peace. We even creep into the lunchroom and claim a table in the corner, spying on the rest of the school. It’s like we’re camouflaged.
“You used to be friends with that?” Riley asks, pointing with her spoon toward Savannah.
She sits with her cheerleader friends at a table in the center of the room, taking up as much space and noise as possible. Today’s a game day, which means the football players are wearing their jerseys and the cheerleaders are in their uniforms. They stand out against the monotonous sea of white shirts.
“Um, yeah, when I was like nine.”
She snorts. “You had poor taste as a nine-year-old.”
“Yeah, I was friends with Caleb, too.”
“Like, friends-friends? Or, you went to the same school and kind of knew each other—”
“Definitely friends-friends,” I say. “Let’s not talk about that.”
She perks up. “Have you come up with a plan?”
“Oh, my diabolical mind-fuck of Caleb Asher? Yes, yes I have.” I make her wait a minute before I say, “I need to find a boyfriend.”
Silence.
Shock.
“What? Who?”
I shrug. “I’m not too picky. I just need someone to hold my hand and maybe kiss me… Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Who’s kissing you, Sheep?”
I guess that explains the weird expression on Riley’s face.
I grit my teeth as Caleb lowers himself down next to me. He drapes his arm over my shoulders and winks at Riley.
“Earth to Margo.” He taps my temple. “Anyone home?”
I grimace and try to slide away from him. I should know by now that it’s useless.
“Almost a full week of ignoring me.” I look at Riley. “We almost made it.”
“Aw, you noticed. I’m flattered. Have you met Savannah?”
“You’re not serious.”
“Nah, I’m dead serious. Let’s go. Excuse us, Appleton.”
He lifts me out of my seat and guides me over to the table where Savannah reigns over the other cheerleaders.
“Savannah, sweetie,” Caleb says, drawing… all of the eyes. Every last one. “You were out last week, you must’ve missed the news: our old friend Margo has returned.”
I stare down at my shoes. That’s really the only available option when her icy gaze lands on his hand that’s currently glued to my shoulder.
“Savannah,” Caleb prompts. He grins.
“Welcome back,” Savannah answers in a voice that—well, it’s downright frozen. And insincere.
If I ever wanted to stab someone with a pencil more than Caleb, it’d be her.
I meet her eyes, and her smile gets more brittle.
“I’m sure you’d love to catch up with Margo, right?”
“Of course.” She feigns a frown. “Oh, but there’s no room at our table. Maybe next time, Margo, okay?”
Caleb sighs, and I have to remind myself that this is an act. However sincere he appears—he’s lying. Lying is what he does best. That, and he’s perfected the art of war. He sighs again and says, “Ah, you’re right. It’s okay. Margo can come sit with me.” He jerks his chin to the next table over, where his three friends and other guys are sprawled out.
Savannah pales. “No,” she snaps, looking around the table. “Stephanie, move over.”
“There’s no—”
“Move.”
The girl, who could be a freshman, stares at Savannah and tries to stop her chin from wobbling. She gets up and runs out of the cafeteria, the laughter of the cheerleaders chasing her.
Caleb is feeding me to the sharks.
“Sit.” Savannah points at the empty seat. “God knows you didn’t earn it.”
I glance at Caleb, who releases me one finger at a time.
“I’m so glad you two are getting reacquainted,” he says. “See you later.”
“See you,” Savannah replies, even though Caleb’s eyes don’t leave mine.
I don’t answer, just slide into the seat between two girls. A hush falls over the table as Caleb leaves, and I almost stand and bolt.
“Don’t you dare,” Savannah snaps, reaching across the table and grabbing my wrist. “You get up and then what?”
I snatch my wrist away and lean back. “Who exactly do you think you are?”
She shakes out her wheat-blonde hair. “Me? I’m not the one who stomped in here thinking she could slip right back into her old role—”
“And what role is that, exactly?” I put my elbows on the table. “I was never mean to you. I didn’t try to step on anyone’s toes—”
“Oh, bullshit, Margo.”
I press my lips together.
“You want to steal Caleb away from me!” Her cheeks turn pink.
I get up from the table. “Trust me, Sav. You can have him.”
I walk away, and a little voice in my head chants, Liar, liar, liar.
Riley catches me in the hallway, her eyes wide. “Whoa. So that is why we avoid the cafeteria. Agreed?”
I bump my fist against hers. “Agreed. Yikes.”
She barks out a laugh. “Yeah. Yikes.”
The bell rings soon after, flooding the hallway with students. A cheerleader slams her shoulder into mine, knocking me into the lockers. She doesn’t even glance at me as she passes.
A second later, another one snags my fallen bookbag with her foot, kicking it across the tile. Papers and books go flying.
Riley gasps, grabbing my shoulders. “You okay?”
I force myself to laugh, even as a lump forms in my throat. We dart between students to grab all of my things, but everything is too scattered. By the time Riley and I have gathered everything, the hallway is deserted.
“Shit,” she mumbles. “We’re going to be late.”
“Go,” I tell her. “I…” I heave a sigh. “Honestly, I’d rather just—I should’ve expected her to retaliate. I didn’t even do anything.”
She squints at me. “No?”
I shrug. “You’ve been with me every day. I would’ve mentioned if I had a vendetta against Savannah or… Ah, fuck.”
Caleb and his crew saunter down the hall in our direction. Theo and Liam are in front, arguing about something. Their heads are turned in, toward each other, and they pass us without pausing.
I blow out the slightest breath.
Eli takes Riley’s arm, pulling her along with him.
And Caleb stops in front of me.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He raises one eyebrow. “The showdown?”
“No.”
He leans in like a co-conspirator. “You’re not going to thank me?”
“We both know all you did was open a can of worms for me,” I say, stuffing the last of my papers in my bag. “Before, it was mainly just you. Now it’s you and them, and then it’ll be everyone else, too.”
He straightens, his eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t want the cheerleaders to hate me?”
“I wanted you to stand up to Sav.”
Once I start laughing, it’s hard to stop. Oh, the nerve of this boy. “That’s not how this works,” I tell him. “That’s not—” I squeeze my eyes shut. “You kissed her in front of me.”
He touches my cheek, once, fleeting.
I open my eyes.
“I don’t really give a fuck, Sheep. Not about you, not about her. You’re interesting. She was… but now she isn’t.” He lifts one shoulder. “This isn’t personal.”
Oh, how I hate him.
I give him my best glare, but it ricochets off his armor.
“You’re lying,” I declare. I’m bluffing, but the surprise on his face makes me think I might be on the right track. “You do care. You love the mind game and you love seeing how people react. Is that it? My reaction?”
He lazily starts walking. “Your reaction? Perhaps you’re onto something there. Everything I do is because of you. Oh, please, Margo, forgive me. All I wanted was to get a reaction from the high and mighty Margo Wolfe.”
He sneers, and I feel like I just walked myself into a spiderweb.
“Is that what you wanted me to say?”
I stare straight ahead and follow him. He’s in my next class, anyway. What choice do I have?
“Ooh, the silent treatment.” He stops and turns around, using his body to back me against the lockers.
It happens too fast for me to avoid it. One minute we’re walking, the next he’s looming over me. Excitement races through me. We’re in the middle of school—between two classrooms, for God’s sake. What’s the worst he can do?
“Answer my question,” he demands.
He’s giving me whiplash.
Everything about him is hot and cold.
I look at his throat and say, “I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer,” he growls. His hand trails up my arm, the column of my throat, and pinches my chin between his fingers. He jerks my head up and down, then side to side. “Yes or no, Sheep. You should’ve learned that in kindergarten.”
“If I didn’t, it was because you were too damn busy distracting me—”
His fingers tighten, and I suppress a yelp of pain.
He leans in close. “What did you say?”
“We used to be friends,” I say to his ear. It’s all I can bear to look at. And once this word-vomit starts, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. “You used to be nice. I was taken from my family, and you turned into—”
“Taken away?” he asks, his voice incredulous. “Is that what you call it?”
I meet his stare. “What would you call it?”
“I’d say you threw a goddamn grenade into our lives, Margo. And you never thought about the casualties.”
He releases me, stepping back like I’m on fire. I can’t even move as he walks away from me, down the hall and around the corner.
I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs. I want to yell at him: I was ten! Had I known the ripple effect that was going to be set off, I wouldn’t have—
Please don’t, his voice whispers.
I hang my head, the answer for his anger finally in front of me.
It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault.
