Piece By Piece | ✓

9 | vanessa

     Contrary to what most people chose to believe, though, was the fact that she never had any intention of harming her sister. She loved Veronica. Even more than she loved herself, really.

     If she were able to travel back in time to prevent the accident from happening, or insist on taking the wheel more forcefully from Veronica... she would've done it in a heartbeat. Without hesitation, without any kind of second thoughts. She would do absolutely anything to make sure her sister was safe, to keep her alive.

     Heck, she would even peg Hercules if it were a possible option—going to the Underworld and jumping into the Styx to free her sister's soul in exchange for her own life.

     Vanessa closed her eyes and rubbed her temples for a moment. Mr. Henri subtly hinting at her failing his class was enough to give her a migraine. But getting unreasonably emotional in public wasn't her thing.

     She refused to let these demon spawns see her shed a single tear over her pathetic excuse of a professor. They've had their fun before. Not this time. Not again.

     After counting to ten in her head, Vanessa opened her eyes again and forced herself to listen to whatever Mr. Henri was going to discuss to the class. It was probably going to be something basic, something easy to analyze—he practically worshipped classic novels but in her opinion, he sucked at teaching it.

     Her AP English teacher was so much better at it than he was, really. Well, to be fair, she was sort of thankful for having such a boring—and sometimes lazy—Literature professor. Mr. Henri's exams and quizzes weren't even that difficult to pass. At least she was sure of getting at least an eighty or eighty-five in his subject.

     "Just make sure you'll make good on your promise, Vanessa." Mr. Henri warned, making sure the whole class heard him. A few people in front of her didn't even bother to contain their mocking snickers.

     "I will, sir." Vanessa answered and looked at him square in the eyes, her voice calm yet confident at the same time.

     "You've missed a few of our lectures," he haughtily pointed out, his mouth almost turning up into a sneer. Mr. Henri was about to continue his scolding when he suddenly raised his hand. Arching his bushy eyebrow, Mr. Henri nodded at Tristan, letting his student speak.

     "I've taken down extra notes, Mr. Henri," Tristan said. He held up his binder and wiggled it a bit. "Every lecture she missed is in here, sir. I took the liberty of doing it for her since nobody in this class"—he paused, glancing at his classmates for a quick moment—"would do it voluntarily."

     Upon hearing those words, Vanessa gasped in her seat, her brown eyes wide with disbelief, her mind a tornado of unspoken questions. What was he doing? Why the hell was he embarrassing her like this? She never asked for anybody's help, for crissakes! He was making her look weak in front of the whole class, damn it!

     She could hear it, their disapproving whispers and scornful stares, incessantly burning painful holes right through her. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in her lap, berating herself for letting their negativity get to her, for letting her self-control dissipate in a moment of temporary weakness.

     "I see," Mr. Henri said tersely, pushing his thick eyeglasses against the bridge of nose and crossing his arms. He ignored the continuous murmurs of students who were clearly affected by Tristan standing up to them. A beat passed, then he went on with his lecture again, as if nothing happened.

     Vanessa bolted out of the room once she heard the bell ring. She needed to get out of there fast, or else she was going to end up banging a certain blonde-haired boy's head against the wall.