Vampire Lies (Blood and Snow Season Book 1) by Rashelle Workman Page B
Authors: Rashelle Workman
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gymnasium. She even showed me where my locker was.
“This isn’t a bad spot.” Sydney flipped her hair and turned around. She wore tight jeans, a long peach shirt that was see through and had a tie around the hips. Underneath was a white tank top. On her feet were gold ballet flats. She looked cute. But I noticed she wasn’t nearly as friendly once we’d left the office.
“I like your shoes. Where’d you get them?” she asked as I tried to open my locker. I didn’t respond right away, trying to figure out Mr. Butters’ chicken scratch. He’d written left 32, right 12, left 7 so I had an idea what I was supposed to do, but I couldn’t seem to get the locker to open.
“Bloomingdale’s,” I said, spinning the knob filled with lines and numbers.
“Shopping in New York. Nice.” Sydn ey voice seemed to bubble with excitement. She scooted me out of the way. “Let me help you.” She twisted the knob the opposite direction I’d been spinning it. “What’s the combo?”
I remembered that Mr. Butters said not to tell anyone so I hedged. “Uh, um.” I glanced at the yellow paper with sticky stuff on one end.
“It’s okay, Jack. I won’t tell anyone.”
I really needed he r help, so I decided it was fine. I showed her the paper.
“Didn’t your school have lockers in Las Vegas?”
“Yeah, but they were different.” I grabbed a piece of hair and twisted nervously.
“Okay, well this is how our lockers work.” She glanced at the yellow paper again. “ Left 32.” She turned until it reached a line two after thirty. “Right 12.” She spun the knob to the right, going all the way around once and then stopping on the line two after ten. “Left 7.” She turned to the line two after five. Then she pulled up on a silver lever and the locker opened. “See, easy.” Her blue eyes twinkled.
I had a feeling it wouldn’t be as simple as Sydney made it look, but I nodded. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Did you want to leave your backpack?”
The inside of the locker had two hooks and a shelf but was otherwise empty. “No. I’m going to keep it just in case I need something.” I patted the nylon strap.
“Cool.” She shut it and leaned in to my side. “What’s your first class?”
“Creative Writing.” I tried to inhale a quick breath, not wanting to drool at the scent of her blood so close. Hers wasn’t nearly as sweet smelling as Cam’s or Mr. Butters’. It was weird. Everything about this morning was weird. Humans seemed much more touchy-feely than I’d thought they’d be. I wasn’t used to having my personal space invaded unless it was by my parents and more recently, Laeddin.
“Who with?”
I showed Sydney my paper.
“Ah, Miss Riplinger. You’ll like her. She’ s also the cheerleading coach.”
I had no idea what a cheerleading coach was but I copied Sydney’s word and said, “Cool.”
“Her room is on the fifth floor. I think she’s likes it up there because it makes her students have to work out. She’s always telling us we’re getting too flabby.” Sydney patted her flat stomach. “You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about your weight.”
She took in my body. I felt the urge to cover up, but held still. “I do try to eat healthy.”
She snorted. “Yeah, which probably means you only have one donut instead of two?” She raised an eyebrow and slapped my butt. I yelped, surprised. “You’d be perfect on our cheerlead ing squad. You have a great ass. Maybe second semester you should try out.”
“Try out?” I had no idea what she meant.
“Yeah. One of the girls got herself knocked up. Our coach, Miss Riplinger kicked her off the squad. Safety issues or something, which means we’re a cheerleader short.”
I was getting frustrated. What was knocked up? I didn’t want to ask Sydney though. So I just said, “Sounds fun.”
“It totally is.” She linked her arm with mine. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your class.”
We went up several more flights of
“This isn’t a bad spot.” Sydney flipped her hair and turned around. She wore tight jeans, a long peach shirt that was see through and had a tie around the hips. Underneath was a white tank top. On her feet were gold ballet flats. She looked cute. But I noticed she wasn’t nearly as friendly once we’d left the office.
“I like your shoes. Where’d you get them?” she asked as I tried to open my locker. I didn’t respond right away, trying to figure out Mr. Butters’ chicken scratch. He’d written left 32, right 12, left 7 so I had an idea what I was supposed to do, but I couldn’t seem to get the locker to open.
“Bloomingdale’s,” I said, spinning the knob filled with lines and numbers.
“Shopping in New York. Nice.” Sydn ey voice seemed to bubble with excitement. She scooted me out of the way. “Let me help you.” She twisted the knob the opposite direction I’d been spinning it. “What’s the combo?”
I remembered that Mr. Butters said not to tell anyone so I hedged. “Uh, um.” I glanced at the yellow paper with sticky stuff on one end.
“It’s okay, Jack. I won’t tell anyone.”
I really needed he r help, so I decided it was fine. I showed her the paper.
“Didn’t your school have lockers in Las Vegas?”
“Yeah, but they were different.” I grabbed a piece of hair and twisted nervously.
“Okay, well this is how our lockers work.” She glanced at the yellow paper again. “ Left 32.” She turned until it reached a line two after thirty. “Right 12.” She spun the knob to the right, going all the way around once and then stopping on the line two after ten. “Left 7.” She turned to the line two after five. Then she pulled up on a silver lever and the locker opened. “See, easy.” Her blue eyes twinkled.
I had a feeling it wouldn’t be as simple as Sydney made it look, but I nodded. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Did you want to leave your backpack?”
The inside of the locker had two hooks and a shelf but was otherwise empty. “No. I’m going to keep it just in case I need something.” I patted the nylon strap.
“Cool.” She shut it and leaned in to my side. “What’s your first class?”
“Creative Writing.” I tried to inhale a quick breath, not wanting to drool at the scent of her blood so close. Hers wasn’t nearly as sweet smelling as Cam’s or Mr. Butters’. It was weird. Everything about this morning was weird. Humans seemed much more touchy-feely than I’d thought they’d be. I wasn’t used to having my personal space invaded unless it was by my parents and more recently, Laeddin.
“Who with?”
I showed Sydney my paper.
“Ah, Miss Riplinger. You’ll like her. She’ s also the cheerleading coach.”
I had no idea what a cheerleading coach was but I copied Sydney’s word and said, “Cool.”
“Her room is on the fifth floor. I think she’s likes it up there because it makes her students have to work out. She’s always telling us we’re getting too flabby.” Sydney patted her flat stomach. “You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about your weight.”
She took in my body. I felt the urge to cover up, but held still. “I do try to eat healthy.”
She snorted. “Yeah, which probably means you only have one donut instead of two?” She raised an eyebrow and slapped my butt. I yelped, surprised. “You’d be perfect on our cheerlead ing squad. You have a great ass. Maybe second semester you should try out.”
“Try out?” I had no idea what she meant.
“Yeah. One of the girls got herself knocked up. Our coach, Miss Riplinger kicked her off the squad. Safety issues or something, which means we’re a cheerleader short.”
I was getting frustrated. What was knocked up? I didn’t want to ask Sydney though. So I just said, “Sounds fun.”
“It totally is.” She linked her arm with mine. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your class.”
We went up several more flights of
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