Blood Witch Woods by Rose Montero

Author:Rose Montero [Montero, Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I eyed Penny’s closet. “You think she’d notice if something went missing?”

Finals loomed a few weeks away, and I felt mostly prepared. Between evenings with August and weekends with Del—the short escape and fresh air really did help, even if Del only gave me more homework at the end of the day—I was confident I would pass. My grades had steadily inched upward, though I was still shy of the solid B Raskin demanded. If I could ace my finals, though, I would be good to go.

Before finals came another challenge: Winter Formal. Or, as August so kindly put it, rich people pretending to be cool. It was a week away, and we were taking a much-needed break from studying, sequestered safely in my room with a bottle of wine he snatched from home. Better than the stuff Mom gets. So much better. Maybe I’d save up and buy her a bottle for Christmas next year.

We were sprawled on my bed, sitting against the wall, legs pressed together. August had an arm around my back. “You think she wouldn’t?”

“Let’s just skip the stupid dance, then.”

August bumped my shoulder. “And miss everyone making a fool of themselves? Hell no.”

For the first time since arriving at St. Damian’s, I regretted not packing properly. Stained jeans and ratty shirts worked well with Del—she didn’t give a shit—and I wore a uniform the rest of the time. Suffice it to say I did not have anything suitable for a dance. Not even for a club, though I doubted St. Damian’s would throw up the strobe lights and get a decent DJ. More likely, it would be ballroom dancing or some other bullshit I had no interest in.

Even at my old school, I never bothered attending their gymnasium dances. I don’t think I even owned a dress, much less something appropriate for a formal.

“How strict on the dress code are they?” I had a pair of black pants buried somewhere under my bed. I didn’t think they had any holes.

August passed me the bottle. “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

“Well, it’s not like I have anything else?” Tomorrow was Saturday and I was sure Del had some tea to stave off a hangover, though knowing the old witch she’d probably just pass me a flask of whiskey and call it good.

August tilted his head against mine, humming a low note that went on slightly too long.

I took another drink. “Going home again tomorrow?”

He pulled me in closer. “Starting to get sick of it.”

I snorted. “Would you really want to be stuck here?”

“I’d rather be stuck with you.” August reached for the bottle.

I passed it off with limp fingers. We’d grown closer, sure, but were nothing more than friends. Or, at least, I tried to tell myself that. I didn’t want August to pass through my life without a second thought, I didn’t want to risk losing him, to risk disappointing him by being anything more.

I clambered out of bed and went digging for my black pants.

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