Riot Rules (Crooked Sinners)

by Callie Hart

“It’s red. Whatever! Stop laughing! Red hair is far more common than you think!” “I want to read this outrageous work of smut,” Mara declares. “No. No way. Absolutely not.” Pres shakes her head so violently that she nearly shakes herself right out of her seat. “Mom made me delete the emails anyway. They’re gone now.” “I’m not as gullible as your mom, friend. You fish that shit out of the trash folder this instant.” “No!” Poor Presley. Since freshman year, we’ve been strongarmed and coerced into giving Mara whatever Mara wants, and doing whatever Mara wants. It’s admirable that she’s sticking up for herself and saying no this time, but I’m also wondering how long it’ll last. When Mara sets her sights on something, she’s like a dog with a bone; she won’t give up. “Excuse me.” I look up and my breath saws out of me. My smile disappears. Wren Jacobi is standing next to our table with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand and he’s looking right at me. My tongue feels like it’s made of sandpaper. His eyes are an unsettling shade of green—so vivid, they don’t look real. A random feather pokes out of the breast pocket of his midnight black button-down shirt. “Carina, right?” He slants his head on an angle, like he’s an alien, still trying to figure out how human body language works.