Miscreants: Next Generation by Natalie Bennett (classic books for 7th graders TXT) 📕

“Totally understandable. You gotta give me more details, though. Was it good? Was he giving capital D or lowercase?”

“Yeah, was he swinging big, thick sirloin?” Poet asked with a chuckle.

His question drew laughter from some of the surrounding proselytes.

“Ew.” I laughed, shoving him playfully.

“Put it this way, his dick was so small he kind of just laid on top of me and vibrated for a few minutes. I know it’s the power of the stick and not the size, but…ugh. I’m so ashamed.”

I started to laugh, stopping abruptly when one of Samael’s beloved puppets came strolling from the opposite direction.

“Go find somewhere else to sit,” he ordered, his voice sharp.

Everyone but the three of us took off like roaches that had been caught beneath a spotlight in the middle of the night. He slid into the space directly across from me, pushing a food tray in my direction. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were laced with something.

“That came directly from Kodak. It’s not poisoned.”

Annoyed that he’d just called out the direction my mind had gone, I leaned back and crossed my arms.

“You wouldn’t be responsible for the puppy-eyed recruit outside of my cabin this morning, would you?”

“Someone was outside your cabin?”

His feigned ignorance pretty much confirmed he was the culprit. He was always doing crap like this when he got bored, usually to everyone else. I would never understand how anyone fell for his offer of mentorship when arriving here. They practically begged for it. Nothing about Amo was nice or sweet. He was a sick, chaotic demon with a pretty face. Like most of us, I suppose. But he was also a giant asshole.

I gestured to my tray. “You didn’t bring that to me out of genuine kindness. So, what do you want?”

He leaned forward, propping his arms atop the table.

“I did, actually. Samael was going to send your big sister. I know how much you just love her.”

Okay. He had me there. Between Asmodeus and Rory, I wasn’t a huge fan of either, but I was picking Amo every time.

“Mal’s with Dawn, or he would’ve come himself.” He stopped and studied my face for a reaction that I was smart enough not to give him.

There was a plethora of responses that circulated through my head, and I couldn’t voice any of them.

“Is that all you came to say?” Takara questioned, her dark eyes throwing daggers at him.

“He wants to see you. Thirty minutes by the pits.”

“Why didn’t he tell her this himself?” Poet asked.

“Like I said, he’s busy. Enjoy your meal, princess.” He stood up and shifted his gaze to Kara, a smirk tinging his lips.

“It’s a shame about Tigger. If you want to come for once, my dick’s always available for a complimentary ride.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t ever be going near it. Such open availability screams STD.”

“The only thing that would be screaming is you.”

She rolled her eyes at that, naturally.

“Absolutely not.”

He grinned and began to turn away. “When you change your mind, you know where my cabin is.”

She flipped off his retreating back, shaking her head. “Why are the best-looking men such cocky shit heads?”

“Because they know how damn fine they are,” Poet mused, staring after Amo. “I bet he’s more girth than length.”

My mouth turned down at the corners. That was a visual to bleach from my brain.

“Gross. Major cringe, Poe.”

He waved me off. “You don’t get to have a valid opinion on this. You’re biased. You’d kill him if you could.”

I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t think…

He’d never done anything to me personally, aside from fuel and spread bullshit rumors about how I was being treated. My dislike for him was on par with his disregard for me.

The majority of the female proselytes loved Amo almost as much as they did Samael. Some of the men, too. I wish I could say I didn’t get the allure, but that would be a lie. Well-built with soft grey eyes and a head of tapered dark brown hair, he was far from ugly, and his self-confidence was on another level. His ego was about as big as this lodging site.

However, my judgement was biased, just like Poet had pointed out.

His personality was one matter. The other was my lack of attraction due to him being so close to Samael. That right there made Amo automatically off limits. The two of them had become like brothers, and I wasn’t a fan of double dipping. Or homie-hopping.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kara asked quietly, looking at me with concern.

I didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. That’d be pointless. These were two of the rare few that understood the unorthodox relationship Samael and I had.

“No, but the hurt is necessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Poet replied.

I gave him a small smile. “It’s been hurting this long already. Why make it stop just to deepen the wound when I reopen it?”

Neither of them had anything to say to that. They knew I was right. Of course, I didn’t want to be.

There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t miss the boy who’d been my best friend. I couldn’t wrap my head around this new version of us, because I was still mourning the old one.

I loathed what we’d become.

The worst part about all of this, though? How good we’d gotten at breaking each other’s hearts when we’d promised to always protect them.

We had become a ruinous concoction of animosity, secrets, and lies. A concoction that continued to ferment more and more as time went on. The cycle had to end.

I wouldn’t ever be ready to let him go, but I knew I had to.

Even if