The Tiny Curse: Werewolf High Book 2By: Anita Oh
Sometimes in this world, it’s the smallest things that cause the biggest problems, and you can’t even figure out why. That’s how things were at Amaris High for sure, nothing followed any sort of logic that I could figure out.
I stood at a crossroads where the Red Garden met the Green. The path was totally blocked by rival factions of angry rich kids. It was an indirect, out-of-the-way path up to the school from the Red House, but the garden that the usual path cut through had been closed off back in the fall due to a freak accident that was absolutely no fault of my own, and it was taking forever for it to be reopened. The students from the Green House were not happy about sharing a path with lesser beings and had decided to put a stop to it. It had progressed into a class war to rival the French Revolution, and judging by the look on Stephanie Von Thingie’s face, if Britt Pendlebury took one step onto the Green House path, heads would roll.
The crowds grew around the two virtually identical blonde girls. In the freezing February morning, it was impossible to even tell which garden was red and which was green, but every person there knew which side they stood on.
The school bell rang and yet nobody crossed the path. I sighed. I didn’t care about morning assembly but breakfast was definitely over. I kind of wanted to see what happened, how this would play out, but my level of interest wasn’t high enough to miss out on food. Unless their conflict resolution method was to break-dance fight, that might be worth it.
“We could cut back through the forest,” my friend Hannah whispered to me.
I shook my head. That would take us into the woods behind the Golden House, and that was the place I wanted to avoid more than anything. Or, more to the point, bring me uncomfortably close to the two people I wanted to avoid more than anything, Sam Spencer and Tennyson Wilde. Even if this rich kid standoff turned into a fight to the death, that would still be more fun than running into either of them. Pair of jerks. My heart twinged at the thought but I resolutely ignored it.
The tension rose between the two groups. Their glares became fiercer and shoulders more tense. It wasn’t really much of a spectator thing, to be honest. Mostly, it was cold and boring. I wondered how long this would go on, if I could go back to my warm, snuggly bed without being missed from class. Stephanie shuffled forward and Britt made a move as if she was about to step forward, onto the forbidden path, when muttering broke out and both sides backed right down.
I looked around, wondering what was going on, if there was some sort of signal I’d missed. Sometimes these rich kids reacted to things in unexpected ways, took cues from things that didn’t seem to have any meaning, and even after months of being at Amaris, I wasn’t sure I’d ever fully catch on.
Then I realized why the crowd was parting. It was definitely something I’d never understand. The Golden sauntered down the path as if it were a red carpet, as if they knew and expected all eyes to be drawn to them.
And they were.
Nikolai Volkov winked at me as I moved off the path out of his way. I wrinkled my nose up at him, he thought he was so cool with his sharp cheekbones and slicked back blonde hair. We were in Cooking & Crafts club together and for some reason he thought that made me one of his staff, and whenever we were in the same proximity he issued a bunch of orders at me. Not today, though. Today, he was on a mission.
Sam Spencer didn’t even look at me as he passed me. That’s how things were with us now. My eyes lingered on his back, his broad shoulders and the curl of his chocolate brown hair against the nape of his neck, but he gave no sign that he’d ever known me, that we’d been closer than family. I couldn't breathe. Just looking at him evaporated the air right out of my lungs. He was something else now, something other than my Sam, and I didn't really know what that was. Since he'd started coming to class around a month ago, people couldn't get enough of him. They whispered about him and tried to catch his attention — there were already even blogs about him — but he didn't even seem to notice. Just like he didn't notice me.
The Wilde twins were last, Althea and Tennyson, pale and otherworldly in the light of the winter morning. Althea caught my eye and gave me a small smile but Tennyson swept past me in the same way a king would pass by an ant.