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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

First period.

It should be innocent enough. Just a classroom. A teacher. Twenty other kids my age.

In reality, though, walking into Psychology feels like walking to the guillotine. I know something bad is going to happen today. I just don't know yet what it will be.

The moment I step through the door, several minutes before class starts, half the people in the room turn to stare. Heather sits at the front, a bruise on her cheek. Her eyes narrow at me, and I can feel the venom from across the room.

Ducking my head, I quickly find a seat as far away from her as possible.

"Hey." Gregory slides into the desk next to me.

"Hi." I pull out my Psych book and a notebook.

"How are you?"

"...Fine." Over his shoulder, a couple girls watch us. Has he heard about what happened on the bridge?

Probably. It seems like every student has. Rumors spread like wildfire when teenagers are involved.

Gregory fiddles with a pencil. "Hey, I'm sorry for last night."

"What happened last night?"

"At the
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