The Amazon smirked at me, then turned and stalked off to her table a few feet away. One by one, her friends followed her, and the other kids headed back to their seats as well. Still, only hushed whispers filled the dining hall, and everyone kept staring at me, wondering what I would do now.
"C'mon. Let's get out of here," Logan said, putting down the dishes.
I bit my lip, nodded, and got my messenger bag out from underneath the table. The Spartan grabbed my hand, and we headed for the doors. To my surprise, instead of following along behind me like he usually did, Alexei fell in step with us and flanked me on the other side.
Just before we stepped outside, something slammed into my back. I froze, wondering if someone had shot an arrow at me, but it didn't hurt enough for that. A second later, the thing on my back slid off and clattered to the floor, and I realized what had happened-someone had thrown a plate of food at me.
I looked over my shoulder at the mess. Chunks of Logan's omelet were sticking to the back of my gray hoodie, sprayed across my back like the paint on my dorm room door, while the plate had broken into a dozen pieces. I reached back and felt a few chunks of cheese sticking to my hair. Ugh.
"Bull's-eye." Helena's voice rang out loud and clear, and she started laughing.
Anger, frustration, and embarrassment made my cheeks burn, but I didn't give Helena the satisfaction of turning around and glaring at her. That would only make the Amazon laugh louder and make her that much more determined to torture me.
Instead, I straightened up and walked out of the dining hall, the cruel laughter of the other students ringing in my ears and adding to the misery already in my heart.
Chapter 8
My day didn't get any better after that.
After going back to my room to shower and change again, I went to my morning classes. I sat in my usual seats and tried to concentrate on all the lectures and homework assignments, but I was always aware of Alexei standing in the corners of the rooms, watching me.
Actually, he had to stand in the corners, since the other students pulled their desks away from mine as soon as I stepped into the classrooms. The first time it happened, I thought maybe we were breaking into study groups, so I got to my feet and started to scoot my desk around with everyone else's, until the Viking in front of me turned around and glared at me.
"You stay right where you are, Reaper," he hissed as he grabbed a desk in each hand, lifted them up, and carried them across the room.
Seconds later, I was sitting by myself in the middle of the floor with everyone lined up on the opposite side of the room. Even worse, they were all staring at me with hate-filled eyes, including Mrs. Melete, my English-lit professor.
The same thing happened in my other classes. Desks pulled away, me sitting alone, everyone glaring at me.
At lunch, I raced over to the dining hall, grabbed a soda and a hot, grilled ham-and-swiss panini off the lunch line, and ran back to my dorm room before anyone could come after me again. Alexei trailed behind me the whole while, easily keeping up with my quick strides. Once again, he didn't get anything to eat. I was starting to wonder if he just existed on air, silence, and fixed stares.
I climbed the stairs to my room and was reaching for my key to go inside when I noticed that someone had tagged my door and walls again. Grandma Frost had gotten the worst of the graffiti off last night, but someone had come along and traced over the words in Reaper-red paint again.
MURDERER. KILLER. REAPER BITCH.
My stomach clenched, and tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back just like I'd been doing all morning. Alexei stood beside me, staring at the door, his expression as blank as ever.
"Here," I muttered, thrusting the bag with the panini in it into his hand. "You might as well eat this. I don't want it anymore."
I went into my room and shut the door behind me, leaving Alexei out in the hallway. I stood there in the middle of the turret, just breathing-in and out, in and out, in and out. I wasn't going to cry. I was not going to cry. I wasn't going to give Helena, her friends, and everyone else that satisfaction, even if no one was around to see me break down.
My emotions seesawed from upset and scared to sad and melancholy to indignant and angry. Once again, I latched on to the anger, remembering every insult, every curse, every enraged glare, and imagined stacking them together like bricks around my heart to block out the pain.
It took several minutes, but I finally felt calm enough to get ready for the rest of the day. The first thing I did was swap out the books for my morning classes for the ones I'd need this afternoon. It didn't make me feel any better, but at least it kept me busy for a few minutes.
Vic's eye snapped open as I pulled him out of my messenger bag and propped him up on my desk. "Don't worry, Gwen. It'll be okay. You'll see. You're not the first student who's ever been falsely accused of being a Reaper. Once the Protectorate clears you of all the charges, things will go back to normal."
I thought of the rage and disgust that I'd seen in all my classmates' eyes today, as well as in the faces of my professors and everyone else.
I shook my head. "I don't think things will ever be the same again. The way everyone looked at me today . . . like I was a bug they wanted to crush under their shoes . . . the absolute hate in their eyes . . ."
Emotion clogged my throat and made it hard to speak, but once again I managed to hold back the tears. "And I could feel it all, you know. With my magic. I could feel exactly how much everyone despises me. It was like a sword slicing into my heart over and over again. It hurt worse than anything else I've ever felt before, even when Preston stabbed me."
I rubbed a spot right over my heart. Despite the fact that Metis had used her healing magic on me, I had a thin scar on my chest from Preston's attack. Another scar sliced across my right palm where Vivian had cut me with the Helheim Dagger. Metis said that sometimes artifacts as powerful as the dagger made wounds or left behind scars that just wouldn't heal or fade away no matter how much magic you used on them. Today, I felt like I had another scar to go along with those, only this one was on the inside where no one could see it-except me.
"Gwen?" Vic asked.
"And it only got worse as the day went on," I continued in a dull tone. "It was like the longer people looked at me, the more they hated me. So no, I don't think things will ever get back to normal. I don't even think I know what normal is anymore."
Vic gave me a sympathetic look, but he didn't try to soothe my worries again. He was a sword, after all, something made to do battle. Vic knew as well as I did that at the end of the day someone had to step up and fight the Reapers. And right now, that someone was me-even if this battle was only against my classmates' fear, frustration, and anger.