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CORALINE had been grateful that Michael's presence got her out of the awkward and demeaning conversation with his guardian. So grateful that she offered him a hand job – again.
They were in his bedroom with the door locked. Coraline already had a plan in mind as she clicked the door shut, but wasn't expecting a negative reaction from Michael once she offered. She promised that it was the least she could do for the moment. Michael had waved her away, "No, no! Why do you always ask things like that?"
"I don't know," Coraline had shrugged. "It was expected of me with other boys I've been with, so I guess I just assumed that you'd be the same way."
Michael frowned, tilting his head to the side. He put his hands in his pockets and replied, "You're not an object, Coraline. Don't let others expect things of you. Always be in control of your life." He then grinned big. "That's what Miriam taught me."
Those words stayed with her throughout the weekend. As Coraline laid awake at night, she kept thinking them over. You're not an object. Boys these days didn't say things like that. They expected the most and gave so little. Girls were presumed to do anything they asked, which mostly involved their dicks and a pair of glossy lips. Michael wasn't like that. No – he wasn't like any of them. Maybe it was because he was older. However, he was only older than her by a year, and most seniors were eighteen anyways. She once thought of him as a child, but truthfully, he had an old soul.
Come Monday morning, Coraline realized how much her life had changed because of Michael Langdon. Maybe there was a shift in the air; maybe it was the breakfast she ate that morning, but her mindset was different. Sure, it would be nice to win prom queen and be envied by everyone once again, but the presence of Michael Langdon made those things seem so minuscule. He wasn't her Satanist neighbor. He wasn't a bad person. He wasn't just her friend. Michael was important to Coraline's life. She just didn't know the real reason yet.
Wait. There actually was a shift in the air.
As Coraline neared the entrance of her high school, she noticed the large group of students loitering outside. They were whispering in hushed tones, but they weren't looking at her. Crazy Coraline wasn't the talk of the school. It was someone different. She raised a brow and continued inside.
Whispers continued in the clogged hallways. Coraline adjusted her backpack and walked to her locker, but found her feet stopping in place. Several flyers were placed in a collage on a locker – Amalia Beaumont's locker.
They were all taped in a cluster, printed on bright, yellow paper. Her face was plastered on each of them, with a pair of bat wings drawn behind her head. Coraline blinked and walked forward cautiously. The neon color of the paper was almost blinding. She picked one of the flyers off the locker, staring at the words circling around Amalia's face.
