chapter twelve. house of cheats

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By the time we get back to the school, French class has already started. The three of us entering breaks the silence that's fallen, and I forgot we had a test today until I see the headphones on all the desks. Ugh.

"You're late," Mrs. Andrews states. The three of us sheepishly apologize to her. "Get to your places. We're about to start." God, if I'd remembered we had a test, I would've stayed at Ade's antiques shop longer. I sit beside Mara, grabbing the headphones. "Have you seen Patricia on your travels?" Andrews continues, and I shake my head. "She'll be getting an F then. We'll start the test."

I put the headphones over my ears, hearing a sentence in the French language spoken by a robot. Rolling my eyes, I look down at my test, clicking my pen to mark the correct answer. I hate French. No, hate's a strong word... I need a stronger one. I despise French. What's up with this language? Why does a chair need to be gendered? Why isn't anything pronounced the way it's written? Why are French people... like that?

Movement beside me catches my attention—not that it's hard to catch, because like I said, I despise French. It's Mara, who's subtly taking another test out of hiding, writing Mick's name in the corner. I furrow my eyebrows and briefly meet the eyes of Clarke, who's on the other side of Mara. He seems to have noticed the extra test as well.

Deciding it's not my problem, I return to my test, marking on the paper. At the end of class, the bell rings and Andrews announces that our time is up. I set the headphones on the desk, grab my things, and set my test on her desk as I leave the classroom.

Going into the girls' bathroom, I pass Patricia coming out of it, looking a bit mad. But she always looks mad, so I just ignore it. I push the door open, only to stop in my tracks when I find Mara talking to—of all people to be in the girls' restroom—Jerome Clarke.

"I—" I start, eyes squinted. "You—come on, man."

"Adams, just the person I needed to see," Clarke states, putting his arm around me. He drags me over and faces me toward Mara. "Tell Mara what you saw during the French test."

I slither out of his grip. "What did I see?"

He puts his arm around me again, like we're suddenly buddies. I talk to him somewhat civilly once this morning and this happens? Never again. "You know what you saw."

"Do I?"

"Stop playing games, Adams. Tell Mara what you and I both saw."

I glare at him before reluctantly telling Mara, "I saw you putting Mick's name on another test. For the record, I was going to ignore it. Not my problem."

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