Simon Thorn and the Wolf's Den Read Online Free Page A

on Bryan’s wrist, letting go before he tasted blood.
    Bryan howled with pain and scrambled off Simon. “He bit me!” he yelled, clutching his arm. “Psycho
bit
me!”
    Simon sat up and wiped his mouth. Dread coiled in the pit of his aching belly, and he climbed shakily to his feet. “Are you okay?” he said to Winter. She glared at him.
    â€œWhy did you do that?”
    â€œI—” Simon stopped. “Do what?”
    â€œTreat me like I’m some sad little girl who needs protection. I don’t need your help.”
    Before Simon could respond, the vice principal burst into the circle, his paunch heaving as he wheezed, “My office—both of you—now!”
    Taking Simon and Bryan by their elbows, he marched them through the parting crowd. While Bryan shouted that he hadn’t done anything wrong, that he was injured and had to see the school nurse, Simon remained quiet. Darryl was going to be furious, but that was nothing compared to what Bryan would do to him now. If he were lucky, it would be fast and painless, but if there was one thing Simon had learned today, it was that luck was most definitely not on his side.
    The show in the cafeteria earned Simon detention for a week. With Bryan. Which meant he would have to deal with more of his taunts for a whole extra hour for five days straight. Simon tried to explain that he’d only been protecting himself and Winter, but the vice principal didn’t seem to have any idea who Winter was.
    By the time he was allowed to leave the office, Simon had missed all but his last hour. He stopped in the middle of the hallway. Bryan had gone to see the nurse, and no one else was around to make sure he went the right way. If he didn’t go to class, there was a chance his uncle would find out—but Darryl would hear about the fight before the end of the day regardless. Simon couldn’t possibly get into more trouble than he was already, and facing the other students would be much, much worse than any punishment his uncle could dream up.
    Simon turned and dashed out the front door. Though people passed on the sidewalk below, the concrete steps were clear, except for a few pigeons that lingered on the railing.
    â€œFood?” said the nearest one. Simon cringed.
    â€œI don’t have any food, all right? Just leave me alone.”
    â€œYou talk to
pigeons
?”
    He whirled around. Winter stood at the top of the steps, right outside the school entrance. “Of course not. I was just talking to myself,” he said. His forgotten backpack sat at her feet. “Where did you get that?”
    â€œLunchroom. Figured you might need it,” she said. “Do they always treat you so horribly?”
    Simon climbed back up the steps. “I’m used to it.”
    â€œNo one should have to get used to that.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.” Simon dug through his backpack. His belongings were all there—even his book with the note tucked between the pages. “Besides, anything I do will make it worse.”
    â€œYou weren’t half-bad in that fight, you know. If you wanted to, you could take out those worms without a problem.”
    Simon stared at the dried blood underneath his fingernails. He could still feel the burning knot in his chest and the rush of dark satisfaction when it had exploded. No matter how angry he became, he had always been able to suppress it before. So why hadn’t he listened to his gut this time?
    But he
had
listened. That was the problem.
    â€œWhy do they call you ‘Psycho Simon,’ anyway?” she added. “You don’t seem psychotic to me. A little weird, maybe, but—”
    â€œI have to get home,” he interrupted. Winter stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
    â€œNot until you tell me why they call you that.”
    Simon tried to go around her, but she moved with him, and his frustration grew until he snapped, “I