Read Spellbound for Free Online Page A

finally cornered me in the doorway of English class.
    â€œWhat’s a hot piece like you doing hanging out with a freak like Angela?” Anthony’s frosty blue eyes looked me up anddown, and he rested his hand on the polished wooden frame of the doorway, blocking me in the hallway.
    â€œAngelique,” I corrected, recoiling at being called a “piece.” “And she’s not a freak.”
    â€œI know who your aunt is, Emily. You need to associate with people on your level,” he purred. “She is on my level,” I snapped. “At least she knows my name.”
    â€œCome on, you’re really not going to pass up a chance at all this, are you?” he asked, running his hand down his muscular chest before brushing my bangs out of my face. I smacked his meaty hand away.
    Anthony’s smile quickly turned into a sneer. “You better keep your hands to yourself if you know what’s good for you. Just remember— I’m not the one whose parents dumped me at my aunt’s house so they could go out of town. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m even talking to you.”
    Then—to my absolute shock and horror—Anthony winked at me. “Let me know when you’ve come to your senses.”
    Before I could even respond, he strode away and flopped into his seat—even his walk was arrogant.
    I heard Mr. Emerson coming up the stairs behind me, so I ducked into the English classroom—catching Cisco’s eye and trying to avoid Brendan’s. Great. The one time he actually shows up to class on time, he sees you get into a confrontation with his buddy.
    â€œWhat was that about?” Cisco asked. I leaned over to tell him, but Mr. Emerson shuffled in, coughing with the tenacious remains of a nasty cold. He attempted to read a few lines of Shakespeare before launching into a fit of hacking and wheezing. I felt bad for Mr. Emerson, but truthfully, it was kind of gross. Finally, he gave up, forcing the class to read aloud instead.
    â€œYou.” He pointed at Austin before blowing his nose. “Read. Page seventy-three.” (Although with his cold, it sounded like “Debendy-dwee.”)
    Austin beamed—anything for school spirit—and turned the pages to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 2, taking his task seriously.
    â€œWhen forty winters besiege thy brow…” he began, and I darted my eyes around. I locked eyes with Anthony—who licked his lips at me. Oh, puke . I quickly broke eye contact.
    â€œGross,” I whispered to myself, staring down at my text book. Stare out the window, Emma. Yep, that’s a safe place. I twisted my head away from Anthony to face the eastern window, at the sun that was beaming in, and considered skipping my afternoon classes—I had to get out of that school. Besides, it was great running weather.
    I sighed, losing myself in an extensive examination of my split ends. I was so overdue for a trim. My ends looked like tree branches. Why Anthony had any interest in me—I was hardly as polished as my classmates—I had no idea.
    When Austin was done, Mr. Emerson asked for a volunteer to read the next sonnet, and Kristin raised her hand. Shocker! Eager to show off, her hand was raised so high that she only had one butt cheek left on her seat. Mr. Emerson flapped his hand in her direction, and she smiled primly.
    Kristin stood up—Austin had stayed in his desk—and flipped her hair, overacting and putting a ridiculous amount of emotion behind every word. I sat there, bored, my head propped up by my hand, my eyes rolling so far back in my head I could practically see my own brain.
    â€œ Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” She was emphasizing the wrong words. I smirked to myself, listening to her emote. Cisco pretended to shoot himself in the head and Istifled a giggle fit. Then I went back to my split ends. Wow, I really needed a haircut.
    â€œEmma.”
    My head