Free The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2) by Sophia Martin Page A

board with the names.
    The students shuffled around to their new seats so that they would each share a two-person table with their French partner. Veronica watched, taking down names on the roll sheet. No Lola, she noted. That was not unusual. Lola was absent at least two days out of five each week. Angie would be without a partner today, and she could sit with another couple instead.
    Once everyone settled down she had them exchange their homework and they went over it together. As they came to the last few questions, the classroom door opened and Lola came in.
    Without a glance at the board Lola strode to the nearest table, which already had two students, and dropped her bag with a thud. She dragged a chair, screeching the whole way, from the side of the room. Veronica considered calling her out for her interruption. If she did, the most likely result would be a trip to the office for Lola and still no partner for Angie. She sighed.
    “Lola,” Veronica said.
    “That’s my name,” Lola shot back.
    “You have to sit with your partner,” Veronica said, gesturing to Angie’s table.
    Lola cocked her head, her chin jutting out a bit, and peered back at Angie.
    “I’m already sitting here,” she said to Veronica.
    “I see that,” Veronica said. “But this table is taken. You have to sit there.”
    With a groan of outrage Lola stomped over and dropped her bag by the side of the open chair at Angie’s table. She slouched into it, glaring around the room at those students who dared to look at her. Veronica was struck by her beauty. She had hard, black eyes with gunky make-up around them, a full mouth, small nose, and high cheekbones. Her inky black hair was utterly straight, falling to brush her shoulders. Her face was closed and her chin still jutted out just enough to give her expression an attitude. Veronica was intimidated by her, but she didn’t want to show it.
    Veronica turned back to the board and finished with the homework. She told them to turn to page 364 and read a dialogue using household terms with their dialogue partner. Then she circulated, pausing at each table to help with pronunciation.
    When Veronica reached Angie’s table, she saw without surprise that Lola was buffing her nails and ignoring Angie, who read the book silently.
    “Lola,” Veronica said. “You have to practice the words now. This is when you learn how they sound.”
    “I don’t speak French, Miss B. I told you that,” Lola said. “Hey, what do you think?” She held up her hand, presumably so Veronica could admire how shiny her nails were. Veronica’s breath caught.
    On the middle phalanxes of her hand were letters spelling “slut.”
    Veronica looked at the hand holding the buffer. Sure enough, although the ink was fading, she could still make out the word “fuck.”
    “Nice, right?” Lola said. “I just got this buffer. My friend said it was the best, and she was right.”
    Veronica drew in her breath, trying to clear her head, but for a moment her mind was filled with the headlights, and the sound of cars, and the awful feeling of hopelessness that had overwhelmed her in the dream.
    “Ve—Miss Barry, are you okay?” Angie asked.
    Veronica blinked several times, trying to make the dream images stop. She flashed Angie a quick smile. “Sure,” she said, although her ears were still full of the sound of the horn.
    “It’s okay,” Angie said. “I can just study the words on my own.”
    Lola rolled her eyes. “God, be a suck up.”
    The sounds subsided and the dream images faded, but now as Veronica looked at Lola, it was as if she could see energy radiating from her—waves of it; waves of pain. The girl was a raw nerve. Good God, Veronica thought. What happened to you?
    “Better to be a suck up than a fuck up,” Angie snapped.
    “Maybe in your world,” Lola said, angling her head over her shoulder.
    “Okay, enough,” Veronica said. “Lola, you can’t just refuse to do work in my class.”
    “Why not?