Chapter 17 Pandora
PANDORA
I glare at my Intro to Biochem test score.
Fine, maybe I didn’t know the exact name of the enzyme in question. But I should have gotten partial points for one of these questions. I got the word half right.
Also, is memorization even that important? I’d have looked all this shit up online if it had been a take-home test. Or a test I could do on my computer. Who even does written tests these days?
I pick up my stuff and head to the front of the class. “Professor Richter!” I say, before she can leave.
Professor Richter is an older woman with graying hair pulled back into a ponytail and a pair of glasses that are too big for her face, like the style from fifteen years ago. I bet her glasses are fifteen years old, actually.
“Yes, Ms. Pavone?” Professor Richter says. “If you have questions about the upcoming project, please book a consult via the online scheduling system.”
“No, I want to talk about this test score,” I say, waving my test around. “I deserve more than a 76.”
Professor Richter’s eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”
I place the exam on the presentation podium and point to one of the test questions. “Look, this is half right. I should get at least half the points for it. And there are some others where I got them half right. Or my handwriting was illegible.”
I see Richter roll her eyes.
“That answer is not half right, Ms. Pavone. Just because both words end in ‘ase’ does not mean they’re the same thing.
Yes, they’re all enzymes, but I was looking for a very specific enzyme.
” She shakes her head. “My TA graded all the tests, I reviewed them, and I’m satisfied with how she did.
You will not be getting a higher score. If you’re worried about your final grade, I suggest you spend more time studying and less with—” She pauses suddenly, and her lips purse.
Her voice is softer when she continues, “If you have a legitimate reason for needing more time, you can get a doctor’s scrip from the health services center. ”
I stare at her, uncomprehending at first.
Until I realize.
She thinks I’m mentally distressed.
She thinks I might be injured.
She knows.
Anger spikes inside of me, and I imagine carving her up, and maybe using her corpse to study all this biochemistry crap.
I grab my test and scrunch the paper up in my hands. “No,” I answer with a wide smile. “I understand. I’ll work harder.”
I hurry out of the classroom before the walls start bleeding or something equally cliché. I need to get back to my room so I can distract myself.
But what would I distract myself with?
I stop outside the building and take my phone out.
Pandora
Where are you? I need a good, violent fuck.
Wannabe Hot Stuff
Seriously? Go find Asch.
Pandora
Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll carve him up. Maybe I’ll deliver all of him in little chocolate boxes. Every piece but the head.
Wannabe Hot Stuff
I’m by the greenhouse.
Where we’d had our lovely public fuck several weeks ago. I put my phone away and start jogging in that direction.
I’m so focused on the strange itch inside me, the thing clawing its way out of my skin, that I don’t pay attention to anything around me.
Stupid fucking mistake.
Never let your guard down, Panda, Uncle Slayer had said, and Daddy had agreed with him for once while explaining what kind of stupid things could happen if you don’t pay attention, like walking straight into a carjacking.
How do you walk into a carjacking?
I still haven’t figured that one out, but I do know it’s possible to walk into a bunch of frat guys.
Tate and two other guys block my path. Tate is in front, the leader of this little group.
One of the guys behind him has a crooked nose, and he has a cast on his hand.
The third guy’s face is all red, with a wicked burn scar going up his neck.
He’s also holding a cardboard box, the top open. I can’t see what’s inside.
I stop and glare at them.
“Out of the way,” I snap. I reach into my hoodie pocket and grip my knife. “I’m not in the mood for you.”
“Funny,” Tate says, taking a step closer. “We’re never in the mood for you, either, yet you keep popping up. Like some fucking nasty STD that won’t go away.”
His two friends chuckle at the terrible joke.
I don’t react at all.
I think he’s trying to insinuate that I’m a slut or diseased, but it’s not like I haven’t heard worse from them.
“Okay?” I prompt. “Are we done? I’m in a hurry.”
Tate’s expression morphs into one of extreme anger. “Done? No, I’m not fucking done, you psycho bitch. After what you did to me—”
Psycho bitch.
Yeah, I guess that’s me.
I smile at him. “Me? What are you talking about? You’re the one who can’t hold his bladder. But you’re into that, right? The whole watersports thing.”
Tate’s friends shuffle awkwardly. I try to remember who they are, but all the Kappa Assholes blend together at this point. I hope the dude’s burn scar is because of the fire I set.
I hope he lost all his stuff.
I hope his dick burned off.
“There is no watersports thing!” Tate whisper shouts. “Those were fucking private—”
“So private you shared it with all the other Chaos losers.” I glance at the guys behind him. “Be honest, boys. You all secretly judged him as well. Or did one of you agree and wish you could suckle on Tate’s cock for some delicious piss juice?”
They both recoil in disgust, while Tate’s face gets even redder.
“You think you’re so fucking funny,” Tate growls. “But what we did to you before? We can do it again.”
My smile grows even more brittle, and I tighten my grip on my knife.
“Really? Only three of you against one of me?” I extend my arm and gesture around us. “Right here, in public?”
There are other students walking around, but none of them are paying attention to us—or if they are, they’re pretending not to.
Tate puffs up his chest. “Don’t really need much more than that.”
I take a step toward him. He and his buddies back up.
I cackle. “‘Don’t need more than that,’ but you’re still afraid to let me close. I’d threaten to cut off your balls, but it doesn’t look like you have any.”
Tate’s face gets even redder—but then he smiles and reaches into the box his buddy is holding.
“There’s plenty of balls here.” He throws something at me, so fast that I don’t have time to react.
The thing splatters against me.
Cold liquid explodes all over me.
Cold, putrid liquid.
One inhale, and I know.
It’s piss.
The three guys reach into the box, and they start throwing again. I’m too shocked at first to move, and two more of the piss-filled water balloons explode against me.
“Who’s into watersports now, you cunt?” Tate mocks.
That cuts through the fog, and I snarl in rage. I pull my knife out and dash forward, but all three of them keep running, throwing water balloons at me. Their aim is fucking good for guys who are running.
I hear other people shrieking.
One of the balloons explodes against my head, and piss drenches my hair and face. I cough and close my eyes to prevent it from dripping into them.
Fuck.
I hear the guys laughing, and now that I’m not moving, I’m a sitting target for them. They keep throwing balloons at me, each one more disgusting than the last.
They keep laughing through it all too, until one of them suddenly shouts, “Shit! Get out of here.”
I squint at them, seething, while needles scrape at my insides and tell me I need to go after them and kill them, fucking kill them, nobody does this to me and gets away with it—
“Fuck, Pandora!” Blaze’s voice cuts through.
“Oh, Blaze,” I say, and I force myself to smile. Some of the cold urine makes it past my lips. “Just in time. You’re going to have to help me bury three bodies.”
“Uh, I think I need to help you clean up,” Blaze says. He comes up in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders, never mind that my clothes are soaked in piss. “Shit. Pandora, are you—”
“If you ask if I’m okay, I’m going to cut your finger off,” I snap at him. I open my eyes and glare at him. “Tate needs to die,” I say steadily. “I refuse to—” My breath catches, and I inhale another round of vile odor, “—I refuse to allow anyone to treat me like this.”
Blaze meets my gaze. I wait for him to tell me to calm down, to be rational, to stop escalating.
“You can do that after you’re clean,” Blaze says, and I hear the quiet anger in his voice, that fierceness I thought he reserved for Asch. “Tate is going to pay, don’t worry. But let him quiver in fear first.”
I burst out laughing. “Quiver in fear? That’s not my style, Blaze. Revenge is best served piping hot.”
“And full of piss?” Blaze asks, and it’s so flippant, so awful, that I giggle some more.
I lean closer to Blaze, and he opens his arms for me. He doesn’t hesitate to hug me at all.
Get yourself a man who will hug you while drenched in piss.
“Well, now you’re filthy too,” I say.
Blaze snorts. “It was my clever ploy to force you to shower with me. The greenhouse has a shower. And a wash basin. Let’s go there. It’s closer than anywhere else.”
“You don’t want to walk across campus smelling like a New Bristol parking garage stairwell?” I ask.
“No. Fuck, this is filthy.” Blaze takes my hand and leads me to the greenhouse.
Part of me wants to argue that we can still catch up to Tate and his friends.
The other part of me is suddenly deeply exhausted.
The scratching in my skin is duller, less immediate. I sway closer to Blaze, resting my head against his shoulder while he inputs the code to get us into the secret rooms of the greenhouse.
“Why does the greenhouse have secret rooms?” I ask once the door opens.
“They aren’t secret rooms,” Blaze mutters. “They’re just the restricted areas. And I told you. This is where the botany students do their plant breeding or whatever.”
“Botany students, like Zayden,” I mutter.
Blaze leads me to a small enclosed room—no windows—with a shower stall and a wash basin. He takes my backpack and sets it by the basin, then unzips my hoodie to help peel the cold, wet fabric off of me.