Page 25 of Bad Moon Rising

Still, pain clamps down on my heart and doesn’t alleviate as the day drags on.

When the bell rings to signal lunchtime, I don’t bother to head to the cafeteria. The last thing I want is to see Jackson obsessing over Becka.

I can, reluctantly, understand what he sees in her. She’s pretty and new and shiny—and guys seem to like those types of things. She’s not the friendliest person in the world, but that could just be because she’s new and doesn’t know a lot of people.

And if her mom is a psychic…I remember the thick leather-bound occult books Mr. and Mrs. Bellua used to have around the house, and all the random junk in their yard, and the stories people would tell about them when they thought the boys couldn’t hear. Maybe Jackson and Becka have something in common I can never understand…

Still, the thought of seeing the two of them together—of watching them make heart-eye faces at each other and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears—makes me want to hurl.

I hurry towards the library with my packed lunch, suddenly grateful that my mom has been on a health food kick the last few weeks and insisted I pack organic food for school every day.

Predictably, the library is practically empty—only a few miscellaneous teens browsing the stacks and sifting through the books. Food is banned in the library to protect the school’s precious books from sticky soda and peanut butter-covered hands. However, Mrs. Cringles, the librarian, is a lazy son-of-a-gun who prefers to remain behind her desk playing Solitaire on the computer rather than roaming the shelves. There are numerous tables located near the back of the library that wayward students—like me—can sit at and hide away from the rest of the world.

Hide away from the men who broke their hearts.

I offer Mrs. Cringles a tight-lipped grin as I hurry past the desk and towards one of those secluded tables. The light becomes scarcer the farther away from the entrance I get until I have to rely on the scant, flickering bulbs overhead. Most of the library is bathed in bright, fluorescent lighting, but not this particular section. There are only a few hanging bulbs this deep within the library’s stacks, mainly because students barely venture down here.

The three tables this far back are still empty—no surprise. I choose one at random and all but throw my backpack onto the chair opposite me. My hands shake as I attempt to unzip my bag and grab out my packed lunch. Suddenly, the salad and carrot combination doesn’t sound particularly appealing. I crave chocolate and sugar and everything sweet.

Eating away your problems, are you, Lily? a sly voice in the back of my head retorts. I shush her.

Stupid Brooks and his stupid kisses and his stupid words and his stupid face.

And stupid Jackson and his stupid crushes on stupid girls who aren’t me.

I instantly feel guilty for the last, errant thought. Becka isn’t stupid, and just because she’s captured Jackson’s attention doesn’t mean I get to be mean to her, even in my own head. Us girls need to stick together.

I mentally begin my tirade again, turning my ire towards Orion. Out of all the Bellua brothers, I feel as if he has the least to apologize for, but I’m still irrationally furious at nothing and everything.

Stupid Orion and his stupid face and his stupid nail polish and his stupid voice and his stupid—

“What did that salad ever do to you?” a dry voice remarks from directly behind me.

I startle and jump about a foot in the air. The fork in my hand waves madly. The piece of lettuce stuck to the prongs flies off and lands on Becka Leeway’s cheek.

She blinks at me, the green leaf sticking to her face, before she slowly removes it and places it in her mouth. She instantly grimaces and spits the lettuce out onto the floor. “Yuck. Italian dressing. Who puts that shit on their salads?”

“Becka!” My voice is unnaturally high-pitched as I gape at her. “What are you…?” I realize then I’m practically screaming, a feat that would get me kicked out of the library if the librarian weren’t engrossed in a deadly hunt for the Ace of Hearts. I work to moderate my volume to a more reasonable level. “What are you doing here?”

Becka shrugs a shoulder and claims the seat diagonal from me, directly beside my backpack. She throws herself into it with all the confidence I can only hope to one day emulate.

I hate how pretty she is—and I hate myself for hating how pretty she is, with her blonde pixie-cut and cute, cherubic features. This sort of jealousy… It’s not a good look on me. I really need to get my pesky emotions out of control before they consume me entirely.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Becka raises a sculpted brow and smirks at me. “I followed you.” There’s something in her eyes that I can’t read. Something…predatorily. Something lethal.

I jab my fork back into my salad. “You followed me?” Incredulity bleeds into my voice.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” She shrugs her shoulders yet again as if she hasn’t a care in the world.

As if she hasn’t unwittingly imploded my world.

I remind myself again that just because Jackson likes her doesn’t give me the right to be mean to her. She doesn’t know anyone at this school, and who am I to begrudge her a chance at a relationship with Jackson? Or his chance at a relationship with her?

So, mustering up every ounce of my self-control, I flash Becka a soft smile.

“I’m all ears.” I take a tentative bite of my lunch.

“I want to talk to you about Jackson Bellua, actually,” Becka responds lazily, twirling a pencil around her fingers.