Cupid's Guide to Murder

Chapter 24: Revenge Is Sweeter

School had been the last of my worries lately, and I couldn't blame a case of senioritis. This time, a special dark-eyed boy with a charming smile, a killer Cupid on the loose, and an ex-best friend who lived a life of secrets caused it.

Just a typical day in the life of an American teenager.

Thankfully, sixth-period psychology was different.

"This is an ambiguous picture, an example of a common optical illusion. What do you guys see?" Mr. Perez asked, adjusting his glasses. Mr. Perez was one of my favorite teachers — he cared about his students and tried to make every project enjoyable. He wasn't the most conventional teacher, which made his class fun.

Ava Miller raised her hand. "An elderly woman!"

"That's a hot younger lady," Dean said. "One I'd bang."

Some students giggled, but Willow rolled her eyes. "Even though Dean has an IQ of 0, I see the same thing as him."

"Well, Dean, you're right," Mr. Perez said. Reed grinned triumphantly. "But so's Ava. Illusions like these show us that everyone's minds work differently. The picture shows both, but what you guys see first can be based on things deeper than what meets the naked eye. Memories. Thoughts. Perceptions."

His eyes swept across the classroom, but I couldn't help feeling his words resonate with me.

"Life will seem like it's based on finite conclusions, but you navigate it with uncertainty, emotion, or questions until you find clarity." He leaned against his desk, placing the palms of his hand against the frame.

"When you leave class today, I want you to leave with the knowledge that nothing is as it seems. Be open to exploring multiple dimensions within yourself and the world surrounding you. You'll never know what you see that you never saw before."

His words triggered a memory I had with Natasha — the reason behind the keepsake I had taken from her room. 

Two years ago.

Valentine's Day.

Natasha was single, and I was dating Justin. I had gotten Natasha a Valentine's Day gift — a stuffed bear and a box of candy hearts with cute tacky sayings like sweet pea and soul mate. In my eyes, Valentine's Day wasn't just a day to celebrate lovers — it was also a day to show the people you cared about how much they meant to you.

"Surprise," I said, holding up the bear as I approached her locker. "I love you bear-y much!"

Natasha turned around, her eyebrows raising with surprise. When she saw the gifts in my hand, she bit her lip. "Oh... thanks, Haven."

I pouted. "Do you not like it? I should've gone with the giraffe instead. But this bear has hearts on its paws! Look!" I held up the bear's paw to show her, and Natasha smiled.

"No, I love it. Sorry, I just hate Valentine's Day."

"What?" My mouth dropped open. "Hate is a strong word."

She shut her locker, pulling her books close to her chest, as she gave me a small smile. "It used to be my favorite holiday. But I don't get it anymore. Why celebrate love when it makes people do stupid things?"

"That's one way to look at it," I said, falling in step with her as we started walking to class. "But I don't know. I think Valentine's Day isn't about love. It's about a promise. A promise that when you care for someone, you never leave or hurt them."

Natasha turned to me then, and I didn't think I'd ever forget how she looked at me. "If that's true, why do some people break their promise?"

--