The Coven Games, Anna Pen-name [good books to read for 12 year olds TXT] 📗

at him out of the corner of my eye, he was staring at my legs, and the inch or so my skirt rode up as I sat down.

 

I cleared my throat loudly, and when his eyes flew to mine, his lips curled into a smirk. I tugged at the hem of my dress.

 

“Could you, uh, stop staring,” I asked softly, tucking a strand of dark hair behind my ear and not daring to meet his smirking features. Instead, I fiddled with the silky sleeve of my dress, letting the red material fall through my fingertips.

 

“Just takin’ in the scenery.” He had an accent, thick and throaty, that made his voice sound like pepper tastes. It was Cajun, and for a moment, my interest sparked; not many people around Gatlin grew up anywhere near the basins. The parishes of Acadiana were hundreds of miles away. How, I wondered, did this boy end up in a school where students recieve personal laptops for school use and have drinking foutains especially for water bottles?

 

“As flattered as I am, I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop.”

 

“But what’d be in the fun in that?”

 

Finally, I did look up. Narrowing my eyes, I took in the way he lazily sat in his chair, the amused expression he wore on his face. Everyone around him looked as though they wanted to sleep. And yet, here he was, an amber inferno raging in his irises. He looked about as out of place as I felt.

 

“Why are you here,” I asked, my tone sounding much snobbier than I intended. I cringed. The Cajun chuckled.

 

“Ain’t even ask my name and this bonne fille is already trying to flirt,” he said lowly with a shake of his head like he was talking to himself.

 

“I-I’m not… I mean, I was just…-“

 

“The name is Kincade Badeaux, I am here with ma grand-mere, and to answer your earlier question, non, tearin’ my eyes away would be a shame.”

 

A snort just one row ahead of us made me remember where we were. Turning around, Hannah Keller gave Kincade a twenty watt smile and arched a brow in my general direction.

 

After clearing her throat, she said with a sneer that reminded me of a feral cat, “Haven’t you heard? Grace Duchannes is a freak, and I suggest you keep your distance.”

 

Immediately, my face heat, and my smile fell from my lips, shattering upon impact with the tiled floor. I waited for Kincade to stand from his desk and walk away; instead, I heard his laugh. It was a musical sound that pounded a nail of embarrassment into my flesh.

 

 “Lucky for ole’ Kincade, I gotta thing for freaks.”

 

I thought my jaw touched the floor. What was he doing? Trying to be the new school pariah?

 

Hannah coughed, offering me a glare as dirty as the cafeteria floor, before she sighed. “It’s a shame such a pretty face like yours has a thing for weirdos who talk to their own shadows.”

 

“Braque, eh,” he asked me, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile. My mouth tasted like chalk. Instead of answering him, I reached down to grab my bookbag, suddenly finding the contents fascinating. Lipgloss, the journal filled with my nightmares, sunglasses-

 

Braquer in French meant shine. In Cajun French? Drop the ‘r’ and you get ‘crazy’.

 

Crazy, eh?

 

I listened to the groaning of metal as he leaned forward in his chair, and out of the corner of my eye watched as his mouth grew closer to Hannah’s ear. 

 

“It’s a shame such a joli face like yours ain’t nothin’ but a bonne a rienne. Vous devriez avoir honte.”

 

I tried to stifle my laugh, as Kincade leaned back in his chair and gave me a wink. Hannah’s thin brows worked to decipher what he said, and I wished to have the satisfaction of explaining he called her a good for nothing girl who should be ashamed of herself.

 

As Mr. Bartling stepped into the class and announced our lesson plan, Kincade grinned like a Cheshire. I couldn’t help but smile also. He may have been a pig, but he stood up for me and-

 

‘Make any new friends, ‘ Death asked airily, making me stiffen and forget Kincade Badeaux in a second. When I peeked over my shoulder, I saw his black cape whisper as it brushed against the ground. I opened my mouth to speak, before remembering if I spoke loud enough for Death to hear me, certainly everyone else would be able to.

 

Instead, I opened the new spiral notebook in my lap and began to write.

 

Get out of here. Now.

 

Leaning over my shoulder, Death put a hand to where I’m sure a heart had rested at one point. ‘I’m hurt you wish to see me leave so soon.’

 

Fine. If you won’t leave, I’ll make you. You’re nothing but a figment of my imagination anyways.

 

I closed my eyes, and tried to picture the classroom as it was before. Mr. Bartling shuffling into the room, his face ruddy and sausage fingers devouring a piece of chalk. Melanie Martinez texting underneath her desk, blowing bubbles with the wad of Hubba Bubba in her mouth. Brandon, ignoring my existence, laughing with his friends. Kincade, leaning back in his seat-

 

‘You can’t get rid of me so easily,’ Death taunted, taking a step closer and circling my desk like a lion on the prowl. His tone made the blood in my veins turn to ice. I was used to Death’s banter, his jests; yet this time, there was only malice in his voice.  When his hand touched my shoulder, I flinched. ‘There’s something I’m supposed to show you.’

 

No. No, please, not here. I could handle them in my bathroom, curled on the floor and dripping blood. I could handle them alone. But please, not in the middle of my class-

 

My nose began to drip, drip, drip onto the notebook, and darkness swallowed me my body fell to the floor. 

Imprint

Publication Date: 07-10-2014

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To agarza1999, You made this book a reality, even when I couldn't see it. Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy. xoxo