ARC: Crushed by Eliza Crewe Read Free Book Online Page B

tried your hardest. That you’ve given everything you thought you had, and then some more.” She releases my hands. “That’s what I want to see from you.”  She looks at me, and the worry and weariness is all over her face.  “Please?” she adds.
    I groan in defeat. “Alright, Jo. I’ll try.”
    She relaxes enough to release my hands, and we melt back into the flood of students leaving the infirmary. By the time we make it back to our rooms, we have just enough time to get ready for breakfast. Jo disappears to get dressed and I pull on my usual uniform of black jeans and a dark T-shirt scored from the local thrift store. The Crusaders take vows of poverty and though I’ve done no such thing, the fact that I’m broke and unemployed keeps me in the style to which they’ve become accustomed. Today’s shirt is an uber-soft and slightly bleach-stained black and red one proclaiming me to be an employee of “Romanello’s Pizza, Pasta & Subs”. I added some artistically located tears.
    Jo tromps into the hallway a minute later but stops when she sees my outfit. “You said you’d try to fit in.”
    I look down. “It’s jeans and a t-shirt. What could possibly be wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?”
    She shakes her head. “You need to try harder. Try to look…” she fumbles for the word, “cheerful.”
    I can see why she had trouble finding that one. I don’t think it would naturally jump to the tongue of anyone describing me. “Cheerful,” I repeat dubiously.
    “Yes, and happy. And…” She hesitates, again fumbling. When she says it, I see why. “Sweet.”
    “Sweet? ” The Temps aren’t the smartest people I’ve come across, and I do have mad-skills in the manipulation department… but sweet? Everyone has limits.
    Her lips compress into a narrow little line. “Sweet,” she repeats, then ducks back into her room. She comes back clutching something, which she holds out to me. “Like this.”
    It appears to be a T-shirt, but…“Jo,” I say in dawning horror. “That’s pink.”
    “Brilliant deduction, Watson,” she says, stretching her arm out further.
    I shake my head, holding my hands out and taking a step back. She approaches me, unfazed.
    “Just wear it, Meda.” Apparently, despite my promise to behave, I am not quite forgiven for last night’s escapade. “You said you’d cooperate.”
    I knew I’d regret my promise, just not quite this soon. “ You don’t wear pink!”
    “Yeah, well, no one thinks I’m in league with the devil.” She shoves it into my chest.
    I narrow my eyes. “I do.”

Chapter 7
     
    Mealtime at the Crusader school is a bit like stepping in front of a firing squad except they haven’t any guns, much to their dismay. Most of the students can’t forgive me for being a half-demon (which I can’t help). Everyone hates me for being responsible for the demon attack on our last school (which I am), and a third of those believe I brought the demons on purpose (which I didn’t).
    I suppose it should bother me to be so hated but, without it, I wouldn’t have the delight of torturing them with my presence. What can I say? My cheerful spirit can’t help but spot silver linings.
    I nod and wave to my enemies like Miss America, pausing to blow kisses at the worst of them as I work my way across the cafeteria with a plate loaded with horridly healthy food. While I was out satisfying one Hunger, I should have picked up some Cheetos to satisfy the other. Seriously, since when is broccoli a breakfast food?
    Jo watches my production with sour-lemon lips. Apparently donning a pink shirt isn’t enough to completely erase midnight homicide, either. Really, I think this particular shade should be worth at least two.
    A small handful of students don’t hate me. One is Mags, a red-headed mess of a girl who sided with me against a bully named Isaiah, back before anyone knew I was a half-demon. Once I was outed, she still stayed on my side, if uneasily. She makes a point of