I’m not looking at her angry expression—I’m fixated on the shockingly bare expanse of collarbone where the ruby necklace usually sits. “You took off my necklace?” I say, outraged. “It’s my necklace,” Cat says angrily, “and I’ll throw it in the fucking toilet if I feel like it!” “Don’t you dare, you little—” My words are cut off by a swift and accurate knee to the groin from my beloved. I double over, groaning. Cat slips neatly past me. “Leave me alone, Dean. I mean it!” she cries, darting into the classroom.
