Marked - Chapter 14 Sporking

[wolfgoddess77]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fencing was totally cool, which was a surprise. Class was held in a huge room off the gym that looked like a dance studio, complete with a floor-to-ceiling wall of mirrors. Hanging from the ceiling along one side were weird life-sized manikins

As opposed to ‘mannequins’. Seriously, PCK, who is your editor? Because they need to be boiled in oil.

that reminded me of three-dimensional shooting targets. Everyone called Professor Lankford Dragon Lankford,

Wow, that’s an awkward sentence.

or just Dragon. It didn't take me long to figure out why. His tattoo represented two dragons whose bodies, serpent-like, wrapped down over his jaw line. Their heads were over his brows and their mouths were open, breathing fire at the crescent moon. It was amazing and hard not to stare at. Plus, Dragon was the first male adult vampyre I'd seen up close. At first he confused me.

So what else is new? Zoey, you would be confused if someone told you the sun rose in the east. I’m starting to think your IQ is in the negative digits.

 

I guess if you'd asked me what I expected from a male vampyre I would have said his opposite. Honestly, I had the movie-star vampyre stereotype in mind— tall, dangerous, handsome. You know, like Vin Diesel.

Name Drop: 53

So…he’s a vampire too, I guess. *heavy sigh*

Anyway, Dragon is short, has long blondish hair that he pulls back in a low ponytail, and (except for the fierce looking dragon tattoo) has a cute face with a warm smile.

WHY ARE WE IN FIRST-PERSON PERSPECTIVE?!

It was only when he began leading the class through its warm- up exercises that I began to realize his power.

Because cute, short people can’t be powerful, I guess.

From the instant he held the sword (which I later found out was called an epee) in the traditional salute he seemed to become someone else—someone who moved with unbelievable quickness and grace. He feinted and lunged and effortlessly made the rest of the class—even the kids who were pretty good, like Damien—look like awkward puppets. When he finished leading the warm-ups, the Dragon paired everyone off and had them work on what he called "the standards." I was relieved when he motioned for Damien to be my partner.

"Zoey, it's good to have you join the House of Night," Dragon said, shaking my hand in the traditional Amazon vampyre greeting.

Well, at least he’s not bowing down and kissing her feet. Yet.

But this made me think of something. We’ve established that vampires are a matriarchal society (even though guys seem equally important, and Neferet’s claims that even though women are perfectly capable of protecting themselves, the men still protect them, which just begs the question of why, but anyway…), so on surface-level, it would make sense that they would take inspiration from another female society. But why the Amazons? Are they just the oldest vampiric matriarchal society in history? Does that mean that vampires came into existence around the same time the Amazons did? How old are vampires? When was the first recorded vampire…well, recorded? Was it a woman? Are they only a matriarchal society because Nyx is a woman, and she favors her own gender?

I can practically guarantee that none of these questions will be answered. PCK is too busy fapping over Zoey’s amazingness to bother to flesh out vampiric history, because who cares about that?

Here’s a hint: I do! All of this could be really fascinating stuff, and because PCK insists on making everyone who’s even the least bit famous into a vampire, it opens up millions of possibilities to rework history, but why would they do that? Zoey is the only one who matters.

This is what happens when your main character is a gigantic Mary Sue. They end up being all you care about, and any potential interesting facets of the world you’re building get pissed away because you can’t bring yourself to focus on anything but your precious Mary Sue.

"Damien can explain the different parts of the fencing uniform to you, and I'll get you a handout to study over the next few days.

I don’t like Damien, but I kind of feel sorry for him over these past few chapters. Not only does he have to fetch her books and walk her to class, but now he has to explain how the fencing equipment works. Does he not get a say in any of this? What if he doesn’t feel like being Zoey’s little whipping boy?

I am assuming you've had no previous instruction in the sport?”

"No, I haven't," I said, and then added nervously, "but I'd like to learn. I mean, the whole idea of using a sword is just cool.”

Dragon smiled. "Foil," he corrected, "you'll be learning how to use a foil. It's the lightest weight of the three types of weapons we have here, and an excellent choice for women.

This feels sexist to me…

Did you know that fencing is one of the very few sports where women and men can compete on entirely equal terms?”

So does this.

"No," I said, instantly intrigued. How cool would it be to kick a guy's butt at a sport?!

"This is because the intelligent and focused fencer

Intelligent, huh? Well, that rules Zoey out, doesn’t it?

can successfully compensate for any perceived deficiencies he or she may have, and may even be able to turn those deficiencies—such as strength or reach—into assets. In other words, you may not be as strong or as fast as your opponent, but you could be smarter or able to remain focused better, which will tip the scales in your favor. Right, Damien?”

Damien grinned. "Right.”

I think Dragon just called Damien slow and weak.

"Damien is one of the most focused fencers I've had the privilege to coach in decades, which makes him a dangerous opponent.”

Funny how intelligence and focus were mentioned together twice, and then when he’s talking about Damien, he only calls him ‘focused’. It sounds like a compliment on the surface, but what a person doesn’t say is often even more telling than what they do say.

I snuck a sideways glance at Damien, who flushed with pride and pleasure.

"For the next week or so I'll have Damien drill you in the opening maneuvers. Always remember, fencing requires a mastery of skills that are sequential and hierarchical in nature. If one of the skills is not acquired, subsequent skills will be very difficult to master and the fencer will be at a permanent and serious disadvantage.”

Is anyone even going to pretend to believe that Zoey is going to have a hard time with this? Because I think we all know better. Zoey never struggles with anything; she either has her way paved smoothly for her, or everyone gathers around her and coddles her so she doesn’t have to suffer at all.

"Okay, I'll remember,” I said. Dragon smiled warmly again before he moved off to work his way among each practicing pair.

"What he means is don't get discouraged or bored if I make you do the same exercise over and over.”

"So what you're really saying is that you're going to be annoying, but there's a purpose behind it?”

Bitch.

"Yep. And part of that purpose will help lift that cute little butt of yours,” he said sassily, tapping me with the side of his foil.

Umm. Sexual harassment alert?

I slapped at him and rolled my eyes, but after twenty minutes of lunging and settling back into the beginning stance and lunging— over and over again—I knew he was right. My butt would be killing me tomorrow.

Just your butt? I’m pretty sure more than just that would be hurting, unless Zoey has some kind of alien muscle structure that I’m unaware of. What about her thighs? Her calves? Hamstrings?

And I don’t want to hear any bullshit about PCK not knowing the details of fencing. Neither do I, and know how long it took me to check Google to find the muscle groups that get used for lunges? About two seconds.

We took quick showers after class (thankfully, there were separate curtain-draped stalls for each of us in the girls' locker room and we didn't have to barbarically and tragically shower in a huge open area like we were prison inmates or whatever)

What do you mean, ‘tragically’? ‘Barbarically’, I can understand, because being forced to be naked in front of a group of people would be awful. But ‘tragically’ just makes me think that Zoey expects to be humiliated, but we all know that wouldn’t happen. I can almost guarantee you that everyone would marvel over her figure and how beautiful she is (and you just know she would lap up the attention like a person dying of thirst who gets presented with a giant pitcher of ice water).

and then I hurried with the rest of the crowd to the lunch room—better known as the dining hall. And I do mean hurry. I was starving.

Lunch was a huge build-your-own salad buffet, which included everything from tuna salad (eesh) to those weird mini-corns that are so confusing, and don't even taste like corn. (What exactly are they? Baby corn? Midget corn? Mutant corn?) I piled my plate high and got a big hunk of what looked and smelled like freshly baked bread,

What’s with that ‘what looked and smelled like’ modifier? So it looks and smells like fresh bread, but it’s not? What is it, then? Why does it look and smell like bread if it’s something else? If it is bread, why make it sound like you’re not sure? Are you so stupid that you don’t know for certain what it is?

I’m also giving it one of these.

You Judgemental Bastards: 65

She’s actually not being judgemental towards a person for once, but she is turning her nose up at the food that’s being served. Tuna salad? Gross! Baby corn? Confusing and also gross! It’s ridiculous how many things Zoey actively hates on. I’m not saying that a person can’t have foods they dislike, but this is Zoey. She has to bitch about everything. So I’m nailing her with a point.

and slid into the booth beside Stevie Rae, with Damien following close behind me. Erin and Shaunee were already arguing over something to do with whose essay for their Lit class was better, even though they'd both gotten 96 on their papers.

PCK, I’m sure you’re trying to once more shove it down our throats how alike the two of them are, but you fail. This isn’t like math class, where you either get the answer right or you don’t. An essay can be quite subjective, and even though you’re reading the same thing, you can take away wildly different things from it. One essay can be better or worse than another even if they get the same score. Again, it’s subjective.

"So, Zoey, give. What about Erik Night?" Stevie Rae asked the instant I'd forked a big bite of salad into my mouth. Stevie Rae's words immediately shut up the Twins and focused the entire table's attention on me.

Speshul Snowflake: 82

I'd thought about what I was going to say about Erik, and decided that I wasn't ready to tell anyone about the unfortunate blow-job scene. So I just said, "He kept looking at me." When they frowned at me I realized that through my salad mouth what I'd really said was "He keffft looookn at mmm." I swallowed and tried again. "He kept looking at me. In Drama class. It was just, I dunno, confusing.”

My god, does anything not confuse you?

"Define 'looking at me’," Damien said.

You’re just as stupid as she is! Why do you need a definition for that?

"Well, it happened the second he came into class, but it was especially noticeable when he was giving us an example of a monologue. He did this thing from Othello, and when he said the line about love and such, he stared straight at me. I would have thought it was just an accident or something, but he looked at me before he started the monologue, and then again as he was leaving the room." I sighed and squirmed a little, uncomfortable with their way too piercing looks. "Never mind. It was probably just part of his act.”

Oh, stop it with the faux humility. It doesn’t work when everyone is constantly gushing about how special and amazing you are. It fails even more when you take into account that you yourself went out of your way to tell us about how he was looking at and talking directly to you.

"Erik Night is the hottest damn thing at this entire school," Shaunee said.

"Forget that—he's the hottest damn thing on this planet," Erin said.

"He's not hotter than Kenny Chesney," Stevie Rae said quickly.

Name Drop: 54

"Okay, just please with your country obsession!" Shaunee frowned at Stevie Rae before turning her attention back to me. "Do not let this opportunity pass you by.”

"Yeah," Erin echoed. "Do not.”

I think I know why these two are supposed to be so alike. It’s because they share a single brain cell. That’s why they can’t seem to have an original thought.

"Pass me by? What am I supposed to do? He didn't even say anything to me.”

I wonder if Zoey is aware that the girl can make the first move if she wants to. Hunt him down and talk to him. Although now that I say that, I realize that she’s probably too cowardly to do that. Screw making an effort, she’s going to wait for him to come to her. Why should she do any of the work when she can kick back and make him do it?

"Uh, Zoey honey, did you smile back at the boy?" Damien asked.

I blinked. Had I smiled back at him? Ah, crap. I bet I hadn't. I bet I just sat there and stared like a moron and maybe even drooled. Okay, well, I might not have drooled, but still. "I dunno," I said instead of the sad truth, which didn't fool Damien at all.

What do you mean, ‘instead of the sad truth’? You did just tell the truth—you don’t know how you reacted!

He snorted. "Next time smile at him.”

"And maybe say hi," Stevie Rae said.

"I thought Erik was a just pretty face," Shaunee said.

"And body," Erin added.

Woooooow. Now that’s just plain rude, not to mention incredibly shallow! I also love how they were swooning over him just a second ago, and now they basically just said he has nothing going for him but his looks. That is honestly just hilarious.

"Until he dumped Aphrodite," Shaunee continued. "When he did that I realized the boy might have something going on upstairs."

"We can already tell he has it going on downstairs!" Erin said, waggling her eyebrows.

"Uh-huh!" Shaunee said, licking her lips like she was contemplating eating a big piece of chocolate.

How? Does he wear incredibly tight pants that leave nothing to the imagination? Have you seen him naked? Having a pretty face does not mean he has large genitalia, you know.

"You two are gross," Damien said.

No, they’re just immature.

"We only meant that he has the cutest butt in town, Miss Priss," Shaunee said.

Because all gay guys are basically just girls, am I right?

"As if you haven't noticed," Erin said.

Actually, it’s entirely possible that he hasn’t. Maybe Erik isn’t his type.

"If you started talking to Erik it would really piss off Aphrodite." Stevie Rae said.

Everyone turned and stared at Stevie Rae as if she'd just parted the Red Sea or something.

Name Drop: 55

Why are they are staring at her like she just explained the meaning of life? This isn’t some gigantic revelation.

"It's true," Damien said.

"Very true," Shaunee said while Erin nodded.

"So the rumor is he used to go out with Aphrodite," I said.

"Yep," Erin said.

"The rumor is grotesque but true," Shaunee said. "Which makes it even better that now he likes you!”

"Guys, he was probably just staring at my weird Mark,” I blurted.

Speshul Snowflake: 83

Pretending to be humble does not make you look good, Zoey. It makes you look fake.

"Maybe not. You're really cute, Zoey," Stevie Rae said with a sweet smile.

Especially when people keep doing things like this. Modesty doesn’t work when everyone is constantly telling you how amazing/beautiful/smart/special you are. It comes off like you’re fishing for compliments and hoping they’ll disagree with you.

"Or maybe your Mark made him look, and then he thought you were cute so he kept looking,” Damien said.

Speshul Snowflake: 84

"Either way, his looking will definitely piss Aphrodite off," Shaunee said.

"Which is a good thing,” Erin said.

You guys know that this is going to paint a gigantic target on Zoey’s back, right? Is provoking Aphrodite really such a good idea, especially given how nasty and cruel she’s supposed to be?

Oh, who am I kidding? If Aphrodite goes after her, Zoey will effortlessly get the better of her and put her in her place.

Yes, I’m bitter, what of it?

Stevie Rae waved away their comments. "Just forget about Aphrodite and your Mark and all that other stuff. Next time he smiles at you, say hi. That's all.”

"Easy,” Shaunee said.

"Peasy," Erin said.

SHUT. UP.

"Okay,” I mumbled and went back to my salad, wishing desperately that the whole Erik Night issue was as easy-peasy as they thought it was.

One thing about lunch at the House of Night was the same as lunch at SIHS or any other school I'd ever eaten at—it was over too soon. And then Spanish class was a blur. Profesora Garmy was like a little Hispanic whirlwind. I liked her right away (her tattoos looked oddly like feathers, so she reminded me of a little Spanish bird),

Better a bird than a dog, I guess.

but she ran the class speaking entirely in Spanish. Entirely.

That is a horrible way to teach students. How are they supposed to learn anything if they can’t understand a word you say? I could understand doing this for a class that had been studying the language for a few years, so they were approaching fluency, but for a beginner class? That’s just an asshole move, and a stupid one. Do you want the kids to fail your class?

I should probably mention here that I haven't had Spanish since eighth grade, and I freely admit to not paying much attention to it then.

What a shock. You’ve already proven in earlier classes that you’re a terrible student, and now you just proved me right. How have you not failed any grades yet?

So I was pretty lost, but I wrote down the homework and promised myself that I'd study the vocab words. I hate being lost.

Just learning the vocabulary words isn’t going to be much help if you can’t understand anything else that’s being said.

Intro to Equestrian Studies was held in the Field House. It was a long, low brick building over by the south wall, attached to a huge indoor riding arena. The whole place had that sawdusty, horsey smell that mixed with leather to form something that was pleasant, even though you know that part of the "pleasant" scent was poopie—horse poopie.

*sighs heavily* You know, given that Zoey is all but dry-humping several different guys at the same time later on, and there are going to be sex scenes, the fact that she’s apparently so juvenile that she keeps using the word ‘poopie’ makes me very, very uncomfortable. Your character should not be having sex if she has the mental maturity of a seven-year-old.

And I love that PCK thinks they have to clarify that it’s horse manure that makes up part of the smell. What, were we supposed to think that the students were squatting in the corners and pooping there or something?

I stood nervously with a small group of kids just inside the corral where a tall, stern-faced upperclassman had directed us to wait. There were only about ten of us, and we were all third formers. Oh, (great) that annoying redheaded Elliott kid was slouching against the wall kicking at the sawdust floor.

You Judgemental Bastards: 66

He raised enough dust to make the girl standing closest to him sneeze. She threw him a dirty look and moved a few steps away. God, did he irritate everyone?

You Judgemental Bastards: 67

And why couldn't he use some product (or perhaps a comb) on that nappy hair?

You Judgemental Bastards: 68

The sound of hooves drew my attention from Elliott and I looked up in time to see a magnificent black mare pounding into the corral at full gallop. She slid to a stop a couple feet in front of us. While we all gawked like fools, the mare's rider dismounted gracefully. She had thick hair that reached to her waist and was so blond it was almost white, and eyes that were a weird shade of slate gray.

You Judgemental Bastards: 69

For adding the ‘weird’ modifier.

Her body was tiny, and the way she stood reminded me of those girls who obsessively take dance classes so that even when they're not in ballet they stand like they have something stuck way up their butts.

You Judgemental Bastards: 70

What is wrong with you, Zoey? You need to chill with the comments!

Her tattoo was an intricate series of knots entwined around her face— within the sapphire design I was sure I could see plunging horses.

*narrows eyes* Okay, maybe I’m just reading too much into this, but what is with the marks reflecting what they teach? First the mask for the drama teacher, and now the horses for the equestrian teacher. Is this a case of the marks reflecting their interests, or is it the other way around, and they base their interests on their marks, regardless of whether they actually like the subject or not?

"Good evening. I am Lenobia, and this," she pointed at the mare and gave our group a contemptuous look before finishing the sentence, "is a horse."

I… What?!

Why is she being such a bitch to these kids? What have any of them done to her? And does she really think they’re all so stupid that they don’t know what a horse is? Well, thank you for the clarification, Lenobia, I thought it was a giraffe!

Her voice rang against the walls. The black mare blew through her nose as if to punctuate her words. "And you are my new group of third formers. Each of you has been chosen for my class because we believe you might possibly have an aptitude for riding.

How could you possibly know this unless you have actually seen them ride? It’s pretty hard to know whether someone has an aptitude for something if they’ve never done it before. Sure, having an interest in the subject to begin with probably helps, but it was never clarified that they do. For all we know, their names could have just been randomly drawn out of a hat!

The truth is that less than half of you will last the semester, and less than half of those who last will actually develop into decent equestrians. Are there any questions?" She didn't pause long enough for anyone to ask anything. "Good. Then follow me and you shall begin." She turned and marched back into the stable. We followed.

What is your problem, lady? I’m not saying that all teachers are sweet and gentle (god knows that isn’t the case; my eighth-grade algebra teacher was an absolute child-hating troll), but good lord!

I wanted to ask who the "we" were who thought I might have an aptitude for riding, but I was scared to say anything and just scrambled after her like everyone else.

Normally I would mock Zoey for being a coward—again—but in this case, I’m actually on her side. Given the way this woman is acting, I would be scared she might eat me if I dared to say anything to her.

She came to a halt in front of a row of empty stalls. Outside of them were pitchforks and wheelbarrows. Lenobia turned to face us.

"Horses are not big dogs. Nor are they a little girl's romanticized dream image of a perfect best friend who will always understand you.”

Two girls standing beside me fidgeted guiltily and Lenobia skewered them with her gray eyes.

"Horses are work. Horses take dedication, intelligence, and time.

Credit where it’s due, this is the truth. I’ve had several horses in my lifetime, and they are a hell of a lot of work. They’re worth it, though.

We'll begin with the work part. In the tack room down this hall you'll find mucking boots. Choose a pair quickly, while we all get gloves.

Wait, what? Are they going to get boots or are they getting gloves? Are they supposed to be in two places at once? Because that’s what this sounds like.

Then each of you take your own stall and get busy.”

"Professor Lenobia?" said a chubby girl with a cute face, who raised her hand nervously.

Well. I guess this is a pleasant change—a chubby girl being called cute, even though PCK has made it more than clear that even the smallest amount of fatness is the Worst Thing Ever.

"Lenobia will do. The name I chose in honor of the ancient vampyre queen needs no other title.”

Oh, great. She’s evil, isn’t she?

I didn't have a clue who Lenobia was, and made a mental note to look it up.

"Go on. You have a question, Amanda?”

"Yeah, uh, yes.”

Lenobia raised one brow at the girl.

Amanda swallowed noisily. "Get busy doing what, Profes—, I mean, Lenobia, ma'am?”

Are…are you serious? You’re outside of an empty stall with wheelbarrows and pitchforks in front of them. What do you think you’re going to do, go buy groceries? My god, how are some of these characters even alive? They’re too stupid for survival!

"Cleaning out stalls, of course. The manure goes in the wheelbarrows. When your barrow is full you can dump it in the compost area on the wall side of the stables. There is fresh sawdust in the storage room beside the tack room. You have fifty minutes. I'll be back in forty-five to inspect your stalls!’ We all blinked at her. "You may commence. Now.” We commenced.

Okay. Really. I know it's going to sound weird, but I didn't mind cleaning out my stall.

Speshul Snowflake: 85

Because everyone should be bothered by it. Not Zoey, though!

I mean, horse poopie

STOP FUCKING CALLING IT “POOPIE”!

just isn't that gross. Especially because it was obvious that these stalls were cleaned out like every other instant of the day. I grabbed the mucking boots (which were big rubber galoshes—totally ugly, but they did cover my jeans all the way up to my knees)

You Judgemental Bastards: 71

and a pair of gloves and got to work. There was music playing through excellent loudspeakers— something that I was pretty sure was Enya's latest CD

Name Drop: 56

(my mom used to listen to Enya before she married John, but then he decided that it might be witch music so she quit, which is why I'll always like Enya). So I listened to the haunting Gaelic lyrics and pitch- forked up poopie.

Oh, my god, I am going to murder you.

It didn't seem that hardly any time had passed when I was dumping the wheelbarrow and then filling it with clean sawdust. I was just smoothing it around the stall when I got that prickly feeling that someone was watching me.

"Good job, Zoey.”

Okay, so even the evil, bitchy teacher has to praise Zoey. I’m not even going to pretend to be surprised.

I jumped and whirled around to see Lenobia standing just outside my stall. In one hand she was holding a big, soft curry brush. In the other she was holding the lead rope of a doe-eyed roan mare.

"You've done this before," Lenobia said.

Not necessarily. It’s really not that hard to scoop up soiled sawdust and dump it into a wheelbarrow. Anyone can do it.

…which, now that I think about it, deserves one of these.

Speshul Snowflake: 86

Because of course Zoey shovels shit Better Than You.

"My grandma used to have a really sweet gray gelding I named Bunny," I said before I realized how stupid I sounded. Cheeks hot, I hurried on, "Well, I was ten, and his color reminded me of Bugs Bunny, so I started calling him that and it stuck.”

Lenobia's lips tilted up in the barest hint of a smile. "It was Bunny's stall you cleaned?”

No, it was her grandmother’s. She forgot to mention that her grandmother lived in a barn.

I’m starting to wonder if anyone in this series has an IQ with a number greater than a single digit. My guess is no.

"Yeah. I liked to ride him, and Grandma said that no one should ride a horse unless they clean up after one." I shrugged. "So I cleaned up after him.”

"Your grandmother is a wise woman.” I nodded.

"And did you mind cleaning up after Bunny?”

"No, not really.”

Which makes you special and unique, because not minding cleaning stalls is just weird, right? You said so yourself just up there.

"Good. Meet Persephone," Lenobia nodded her head at the mare beside her. "You've just cleaned her stall.”

The mare came into the stall and walked straight up to me, sticking her muzzle in my face and blowing gently, which tickled and made me giggle. I rubbed her nose and automatically kissed the warm velvet of her muzzle. "Hi there, Persephone, you pretty girl.”

Lenobia nodded in approval as the mare and I got to know each other.

"There are only about five minutes left before the bell rings for school to end, so it is not necessary that you stay as part of today's class, but if you'd like, I believe you have earned the privilege of brushing Persephone.”

But I guess no one else has, even though stalls are not very large and they had nearly an hour to clean them.

Speshul Snowflake: 87

Surprised, I looked up from patting the horse's neck. "No problem, I'll stay," I heard myself saying.

"Excellent. You can return the brush to the tack room when you've finished. I'll see you tomorrow, Zoey." Lenobia handed me the brush, patted the mare, and left us alone in the stall.

Persephone stuck her head in the metal rack that held fresh hay, and got to work chewing, while I got to work brushing. I'd forgotten how relaxing it was to groom a horse. Bunny had died of a sudden and very scary heart attack two years ago, and Grandma had been too upset to get another horse. She'd said that "the rabbit" (which is what she used to call him) couldn't be replaced.

Hear that, everyone? If you lose a pet and get another one, you’re replacing them. How dare you do that.

So it had been two years since I'd been around a horse, but it came back to me instantly—all of it. The smells, the warm, soothing sound of a horse eating, and the gentle shoosh the curry brush made as it slid over the mare's slick coat.

At the edge of my attention I vaguely heard Lenobia's voice, sharp and angry, as she totally chewed out a student I guessed was the annoying redheaded kid.

You Judgemental Bastards: 72

Because since he’s in the vicinity, it couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

I peeked over Persephone's shoulder and took a quick look down the stall line. Sure enough, the redheaded kid was slouched in front of his stall. Lenobia stood beside him, hands on her hips. Even from the side view I could see she was mad as hell.

I guess hearing her angry voice wasn’t enough to tip you off that she was, in fact, angry.

Was it that kid's mission to piss off every teacher here? And his mentor was Dragon? Okay, the guy looked nice, until he picked up a sword—uh, I mean foil—then he shifted from nice guy to deadly-dangerous-vampyre-warrior-guy.

What are you insinuating here, Zoey? That a mentor and student must be exactly alike? That you believe Elliot is too much of a loser to even have a mentor in the first place? I’m serious; I honestly don’t understand the point she’s trying to make.

"That redheaded slug kid must have a death wish," I told Persephone as I returned to her grooming.

You Judgemental Bastards: 73

Wow, fuck you.

The mare twitched an ear back at me and blew through her nose. "Yep, I knew you'd agree. Wanta hear my theory about how my generation could single-handedly wipe out slugs and loser kids from America?"

You Judgemental Bastards: 74

Wow, fuck you!

She seemed receptive, so I launched into my Don't Procreate with Losers speech.…

You Judgemental Bastards: 75

WOW. FUCK YOU!

"Zoey! There you are!”

"Ohmygod! Stevie Rae! You scared the poo out of me!" I patted and reassured Persephone, who had shied when I'd squealed.

I hope she tramples you, you whore.

"What in the world are ya doin'?”

I waggled the curry brush in her direction. "What does it look like I'm doing, Stevie Rae, getting a pedicure?”

How much of a bitch can one person be? Stay tuned to find out!

"Stop messing around. The Full Moon Ritual is gonna start in like two minutes!”

"Ah, hell!" I gave Persephone one more pat and hurried out of the stall to the tack room.

"You forgot all about it, didn't you?" Stevie Rae said, holding my hand to help me balance while I kicked my feet out of the rubber boots and put my cute little ballet slippers back on.

"No," I lied.

Why are you lying? It’s obvious that you did forget. Or are you just too full of yourself to admit that you made a mistake?

Then I realized that I'd also forgotten all about the Dark Daughters' ritual afterward.

I thought the full moon ritual was their ritual.

"Ah, hell!”

 

Speshul Snowflake: 87
Name Drop: 56
You Judgemental Bastards: 75