Watching Alyssa's fist smash into Geneva's face was like seeing poetry in motion.
The redhead toppled backwards, tripping over the bench and cracking her head on the floor. Then there was nothing.
Nothing but pandemonium.
Someone leapt at Alyssa, who dodged by plopping her denim-clad butt back onto the bench, jerking her feet up, and dragging them out from under the lunch table. Her swinging tennis shoes smacked into another girl's belly, winding her. Then the new girl was on her feet, fists tight, body braced to fight.
"Bitch!"
I glanced over and saw Geneva struggling to her feet, hate blazing in her eyes like burning rattlesnake venom. Snarling curses, the Red Queen attained her feet. She shoved away her concerned flunkies and, raising her arm and pointing it at Alyssa, twisted her fingers into a cruel, claw-like shape. The fluorescent lights glinted off of her blood red nails, and a shiver ran up my spine.
Was Alyssa about to get hit with one of Geneva's killer spells?
