Kennedy is infuriated. When she realizes who’s helping her, anyone close enough to see her face can see the anger in her clenched teeth and flushed cheeks. She would be happier if the devil himself assisted her in her time of need. Her eyes are usually this crazy shade of blue, but when she glares at me from beneath those long eyelashes, they’re a dark, smoldering gray. You can see the storm brew. I’ve never seen eyes change color like hers just did. I hold out her books, and she yanks them from my grasp. Even though she claims she’s okay, I can tell she’s lying.
