Page 112 of Sweet Nightmare

“I would never.”

Liar. She absolutely would.

“It’s going to be all right,” she adds, taking another sip of coffee. “We’ll have a snow day. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

No. It sounds horrible.

“How long?”

Mika hesitates.

I hate that.

“Mika.”

“I assume that it will be a few days.”

Silence.

A few days?

A growl escapes me.

Mika takes another sip from her lavender cup, complete with a tiny pig printed on the side, and winks over the rim.

I bite my tongue. The obscenities forming in my head might introduce Mrs. Han to vocabulary she never knew existed.

I try to regain my composure before that happens. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin.

I can complain, which will accomplish nothing, or I can endure this like every other inconvenience my arch-nemesis, life, throws at me.

I choose the latter.

Forcing my lips into something resembling a smile, I turn to Mrs. Han.

“Oh, dear.”

Her smile falters and she looks concerned.

“Fuck. Don’t do that,” Mika mutters looking disturbed.

Good. At least we can all be uncomfortable together.

I give the traitorous snow outside the window one last glare before marching past them, with absolutely no idea where I’m going.

“I’ll have that breakfast now, Mrs. Han.”

My stomach growls as I make my way down the hall toward the stairs.

Fine. I’ll eat everything Mrs. Han puts in front of me. If I’m going to be trapped in a mountain estate with a rude-as-hell rapper during a historic snowstorm, I’ll need all the energy I can get.

Because deep down, I have a terrible feeling things are about to get a whole lot worse.

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Artemis: Wake up, you evil little harpy.

Artemis: You need to get me out of here.