And Stephanie must have believed some of it.
She turned from Sophia, and though it could have been Angela’s fear at work, Stephanie appeared more confident than the first time they’d met. Even her expression—while outwardly cheerful—hid an unnameable triumph behind it. But directly beside her, the young woman with the mass of blond braids, Sophia’s punisher, outdid her in second impressions, analyzing Angela with eyes that glittered like onyx. Up close they had the unnerving largeness she recognized from her painted angels, though their lids had been brightened to a misty red. She was the only person not wearing even a semblance of the Academy uniform, dressed instead in a coat that hid her clothing and perfect figure down to her ankles. The tattoo on her neck must have been a nonsense design—meaningless letters made of loops, long lines, and miniature pitchforks.
Angela didn’t like her then, and she didn’t like her now. At all.
What’s going on? Stephanie found out I had class today. She knew Kim was the teacher. And she might know by now that we have some kind of interest in each other.
But would she react to that so fast? Somehow she seemed too smart for that.
“What the hell did you do?” Nina whispered in Angela’s ear. Yet the second they walked closer to join the other sorority members, Nina slid to a careful distance, hovering in the background, as if Stephanie had drawn an invisible line she couldn’t cross. Her loyalty apparently stopped where one territory bordered another, and a short glance from Stephanie was all it took to cement that fact. She mumbled under her breath, receding even farther.
It’s weird. Stephanie is a blood head, yet she’s treating Nina like a freak.
Maybe she didn’t remember what it was like—to be feared more out of disgust than respect.
“Angela.” Stephanie regarded her again. “You’re in luck. I was about to go back to the Sorority House with some of the other members. I hope you wouldn’t mind joining us for the walk.”
Her fingers had wrapped like a clamp around Sophia’s wrist, but Sophia herself made no attempts at freedom. Instead she stared at Angela with hopeful, yet at the same time, very glassy eyes, looking more than ever like a doll. One that Stephanie was stealing away to a dank basement near the sea.
“That’s fine.” Angela had to suck back the irritation in her voice. “Although I’ll be going back to my dormitory once we reach an intersection.”
“Oh? Sorry to hear that.” Stephanie tugged Sophia, leading everyone into the glass tunnel. “I was hoping that maybe you and I could get to know each other better. You are Brendan’s sister after all. I can’t believe I didn’t catch on to that sooner.” She covered her mouth, sheepish. “Stupid of me, right?”
Lyrica was the first to laugh, also making certain to flank Angela’s left while Stephanie flanked her right. The other sorority members followed them, silent except for the occasional murmur or whisper.
She’s acting way too nice. And she knows someone told me that she and Brendan are a couple. I don’t like this.
Angela glanced back at Nina, who was still standing in a dark corner, watching everyone file out through the tunnel. She gave Angela the slightest wave and trotted away in the opposite direction, her figure fading into the smoke of the evening. Soon Angela was walking on glass, escorted by Westwood Academy’s most influential student, and ahead of her Luz continued to glow like a skewed paradise, its lights blurred by the water dripping along the contours in the panes. A shadow passed over them, another. Crows were soaring to their evening roosts. Night seemed to arrive earlier every day.
“Anyway,” Stephanie said, as her boots tapped across the transparent floor, “I’ve been curious about you for a while, Angela. Your brother’s told me a lot about you and your family.”
“Like what?” Angela conjured up a memory of the flames, racing up and across her old bedroom curtains, burning their satin drapery to ash. Why couldn’t the floor just crack, sending all of them to their deaths together? Would that be too easy?
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” Stephanie said, her grip on Sophia’s arm tightening noticeably. “Well, I wouldn’t worry. He had only good things to say about you.”
“Like what?” Angela repeated.
Stephanie paused in front of a door, a hatchway, set into the glass. She was examining Angela’s tights and arm gloves with furtive shifts of her eyes, and the skin around Sophia’s arms practically puffed around her fingers. Sophia, though, barely had a word for Angela. She would look at her once in a while, but otherwise, she was acting like they’d never met.