《Stuck With The Four Hotties》


 1

    My uniform-and my dignity-are in tatters.


    My eyes scan the gathered crowd, but there are three faces in particr that catch my attention. Cold, cruel, beautiful. An ugly sort of beautiful, I think as I meet a narrowed silver gaze and catch the faintest edges of a smirk. Tristan Vanderbilt thinks he¡¯s beaten me; they all do. But what they don¡¯t understand is that I¡¯m not the nervous, eager little charity case I was when I first started at Burberry Prep.


    Lifting an arm up, I swipe a bit of blood from my mouth. My bra is showing through the torn remnants of my white blouse, and it¡¯s the pretty red one I wore just for Zayd. He made me believe he cared about me. Flicking my eyes in his direction, I can see quite clearly now that he doesn¡¯t. He isn¡¯t smiling, not like Tristan, but the message in his green eyes is clear: you don¡¯t belong here.


    ¡°Had enough yet?¡± Harper du Pont purrs from behind me. I don¡¯t bother turning to look at her. Instead, I let my attention slide to thest of the three guys. My three biggest mistakes; my three greatest betrayals. Creed is frowning, like this whole confrontation is a necessary evil. Get rid of the lower-ss trash, clean up the school.


    The wind picks up, the ragged red pleats of my academy uniform billowing in a salty breeze. In the distance, I can hear the sea. It crashes against the rocks in time to the frantic beating of my heart. A storm ising.


    Tristan moves toward me with predatory grace, his expensive loafers picking up droplets of dew as hees to stand toe-to-toe with me, as close as he was that first day when he insulted me and thenid out the challenge: how long do you think you¡¯llst? Well. It¡¯s the final day of freshman year, and I¡¯m still standing here, aren¡¯t I? Tristan, though, he thinks that while I¡¯ve won the battle, he¡¯s going to win the war.


    I stay stone-still as he lifts his fingers and tangles strands of my paint- sttered hair through them, giving the short rose gold locks a light tug. Red paint smears across his perfect skin as I meet those gray eyes of his with a defiant glimmer in my own.


    ¡°I take it you won¡¯t being back next year, will you, Marnye?¡± he whispers, his voice like whiskey over ice. Tristan thinks he¡¯s the master of this school, a veritable god. The other boys think of themselves like that, too. I¡¯d like to be a fly on the wall when a confrontation finallyes. They think their money will buy them the world. Maybe, in a way, it will.


    But it won¡¯t buy them true friendship, and it won¡¯t buy them love. It definitely won¡¯t buy them me.


    I nce past Tristan to Zayd and Creed, and then I refocus my attention back on the asshole that started it all. From day one, he went out of his way to make my life a living hell. He seeded. And Zayd and Creed, they loved every horrible, filthy second of it.


    ¡°Just go home, Marnye, and it¡¯ll all be over,¡± Tristan says, the softness in his voice edged with cruelty. He¡¯s like a predator who¡¯s too cute to be afraid of. I made the mistake of letting him get too close, and now I¡¯m cut and bleeding-physically and emotionally. I¡¯m fucking shattered. ¡°You don¡¯t belong here.¡±


    Zayd listens to the whole conversation, and then slides his tattooed arm around Becky tter, putting the final nail in my coffin. He¡¯s chosen her over me. He¡¯s chosen her and her cruelty and her mockingughter over me. My hands curl into fists so tight that my nails dig crescents into my palms.


    I meet Tristan¡¯s haughty, self-assured stare. There are tears on my face, and when he removes his fingers from my hair, he touches one with his knuckles, bringing it to his lips for a lick. It¡¯s a derisive, awful move, like a knife in the back. I can feel the de beside my heart, but it¡¯s just missed. I¡¯m not broken yet.Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already enrolled in my sses,¡± I state, and the entire courtyard goes silent. Nobody is expecting this, the poor girl, themb in a pack of wolves,


    standing up for herself. What they don¡¯t know is that the hardest hearts are forged in fire. With their cruelty and their jokes and theirughter, they¡¯ve forged me into something spectacr. ¡°Come September, I¡¯ll be the first in line for orientation.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± Tristan says, still cold as ice, still full of wicked triumph for what he thinks he¡¯s done. His dark hair flutters in the breeze, softening some of his hard lines. It¡¯s all an illusion though. I know that now, and I won¡¯t make that same mistake again. ¡°I¡¯ll make your life a living hell.¡± ¡°You can try,¡± I retort, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my registration form. I¡¯ll be back at Burberry Prepe hell or high water. This is my opportunity, and I won¡¯t let three handsome faces, three pairs of hot hands, three sets of ardent lips destroy that. ¡°Because what you don¡¯t know


    ¡­¡± I take a deep breath, and then bend down to grab the handle on my ratty, old duffle bag. Everybody else here has hired help to carry their luggage. Not me. Straightening up, I lift my chin in defiance and Tristan scowls. ¡°Is that my life outside of these walls was already a living hell. This is just another level of Dante¡¯s inferno, and I¡¯m not afraid.¡± My gaze flicks past Tristan and back to Zayd and Creed. ¡°Not of any of you.¡±


    I move around Tristan, intent on the school gates and three months of freedom from these jerks, but he puts his hand around my arm and holds me back. ncing down, I stare at his fingers pressed against my flesh, and then look back up at his face. He¡¯s smiling, but it¡¯s not a pretty smile.


    ¡°Challenge epted,¡± he purrs, and then he releases me.


    As I head down the path in my torn uniform, I keep my chin up and my fears pushed back.


    Challenge epted is right. I won¡¯t be driven away from the best opportunity in my life. Not by Tristan, not by anyone.


    As I walk, I can feel three sets of eyes on my back, watching, waiting, plotting.


    I¡¯ll have to make sure I stay one step ahead.

 2

    The impressive stone facade of Burberry Prep hides a host of wicked souls with pretty faces. I don¡¯t know that yet, standing at the bottom of the wide, worn steps with my heart thundering in my throat. My school schedule is clutched in my right hand, wrinkled and well-loved; I¡¯ve been staring at it since the fourth of July.


    Deep breath, Marnye. My red, pleated skirt is freshly-pressed and fluttering around my thighs as I move across the old brick walkway towards the front entrance. ording to the orientation email, I should be meeting my guide just inside the inner courtyard. I wonder if I look poor? I swallow hard against my own paranoia, but it¡¯s not easy. The dean assured me that my schrship status would not be advertised; that doesn¡¯t mean nobody knows about it.


    I hear the trickle of a fountain before I see it, a soft tinkling sound, like wind chimes. As Ie up thest step, the sound¡¯s matched to a bronze statue of a stag, water spouting from the rocky base he¡¯s standing on. There¡¯s a boy sitting on the edge of the fountain, wearing a uniform that matches mine. So he¡¯s a first year, too, I think, reminding myself that most of the students here have been attending the academy since preschool. Different buildings, same campus. So a first year guide isn¡¯t totally out of the question. In fact, only two percent of new students enroll during their first year of high school.


    Good for me, I muse as the boy stands up and I catch a glimpse of how incredibly handsome he is: silky chestnut hair with blond highlights, bright blue eyes, full pink lips. Always working outside the box. Now if I can only keep the rest of the students here from finding out just how outside the box I really am, like wrong side of the tracks sort of out.


    ¡°Tristan?¡± I ask hopefully as my new loafers ck across the intricate brick patio. I¡¯m already holding out my hand in invitation, a bright smile tracing its way across my lips. I¡¯ve decided that if anyone asks me about my family, I won¡¯t lie. No, I¡¯m not shamed of where Ie from. Actually, I¡¯m proud of myself. Not only am I going to be the first person in my family to finish high school, but I¡¯m going to do it at a prestigious academy usually reserved for the filthy rich.


    ¡°Actually, no,¡± the boy says as he takes my hand with a smooth, dry palm. He smells like coconuts and sunshine, if that¡¯s even possible, to smell like sunshine. ¡°I¡¯m Andrew Payson. Tristan should be ¡­¡± Andrew trails off for a moment, and I catch the briefest flick of his eyes in the direction of a janitor¡¯s closet. ¡°Around here somewhere.¡± Andrew¡¯s gaze switches back over to me and for a split-second, I see a re of interest before he blinks, and it¡¯s gone. Or maybe I just imagined it? I wonder, realizing for the first time that my dating life here ¡­ is probably gonna be pretty slim.


    Guys might show interest at first, but no loaded teen wants to date someone without two nickels to rub together.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing he¡¯s your student guide?¡± Andrew adds, dropping my hand. He gestures for me to take a seat on the fountain beside him, and I oblige, hissing a little at the cold of the bronze against my thighs. Wearing a skirt like this is going to take some serious getting used to. But I asked about wearing pants and was given a very firm no. Like in many elitist endeavors, there¡¯s a very prevalent sense of gender roles regarding uniforms.


    ¡°Yep,¡± I reply with another smile, flipping up the tag around my neck. My name¡¯s on one side; the name Tristan on the other. ¡°I¡¯ll be shadowing him all day.¡± Andrew smiles back at me, but there¡¯s a slight grimace to his expression. Uh-oh. I have a feeling Mr. Payson doesn¡¯t much like this Tristan guy. ¡°Why? Is there something I should be worrying about?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± Andrew says, leaning back on his palms as he studies me. In the rafters above, a flock of birdsnds, scattering feathers. The wind catches them and sends them dancing around my face along with the brte waves


    of my hair. ¡°He¡¯s an interesting sort of guy.¡± Andrew cocks his head slightly, chucking under his breath. ¡°He¡¯s damn lucky to be paired with you though.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± I say with augh, holding the handle of my new leather book bag in my left hand, being careful to keep it from falling into the water. This thing not only holds my newptop and tablet, but it also cost the schrship foundation a small fortune. Frankly, it¡¯s worth more than my dad¡¯s car. I nod my chin in Andrew¡¯s direction. ¡°What¡¯s your girl¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°Girl? Nah.¡± Andrew shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m not quite that lucky.¡± He reaches up and flips his badge over, revealing the name Rob. Ah. I grin as sunlight streams between the four bell towers that surround the courtyard, turning Andrew¡¯s hair a generous gold. ¡°And I¡¯m definitely not that gay- unfortunately. Between you and me, most of the girls here are already engaged.¡± I raise an eyebrow, but Andrew just smiles. ¡°Old money, you know.¡±


    Right.


    ¡°How about you?¡± I ask, and even though I don¡¯t mean to, I end up flirting with the guy. Great. My mother¡¯s daughter, I guess. ¡°Are you engaged?¡±


    ¡°I,¡± Andrew begins, his eyes twinkling, ¡°am perfectly single.¡±


    We both pause as a boy in the red pants, ck jacket, and white shirt of a first yeares up the steps and pauses awkwardly, raising his hand in a hello. After he introduces himself as Rob Whitney, I step back and lean against the cool stone walls of one of the bell towers, excited that sses are actually still held in these narrow buildings. I¡¯m trying to give the boys a little space, so I tug one of the books from my bag, crack it open, and wait for my guide to show up. Normally, I¡¯d be all over my phone, but the academy is super strict about electronics: school-issuedptops and tablets only.


    Before Andrew and Rob even get a chance to start their own tour, the door to the janitor¡¯s closet flies open and a girl in a fourth year uniform-ck skirt, ck shirt, ck jacketes out, one shoulder of her top falling down, her lipstick smeared.


    A boyes out behind her, a boy with silver eyes and an awful, awful smirk. The moment I see him changes everything. Hell, it changes my whole life, rearranges my past, dictates my future. When I firsty eyes on Tristan Vanderbilt, I be a different person.


    Heat rushes through my body, and it feels suddenly hot, like I should take off my jacket and loosen my tie. Tristan¡¯s fixing the buttons on his white


    first year shirt as he makes his way over to me with long, confident strides, his hair glossy and raven-ck, his mouth too dangerous to be tempting. My fingers curl tight around the side of my book bag and my heart races, sweat beading at my temples.


    What a reaction.


    What the hell is wrong with me?! I wonder with increasing panic as Tristan marches right up to me, towering a good half a foot over me. He takes the jacket that¡¯s lying over his arm and shrugs into it, fixes the two center buttons, and then leans forward, putting his forearm on the wall above my head. I can smell him, too, like peppermint and cinnamon. It¡¯s damn-near intoxicating.


    ¡°You¡¯re the charity case, huh?¡± he asks me, his smile growing even wider. There¡¯s nothing at all nice about it. Tristan looks downright vicious. I open my mouth to respond, wishing I¡¯d never made the decision not to lie. It¡¯d feel good right now, to deny this boy¡¯s usation. But it¡¯s true, isn¡¯t it? I am the charity case. But how the fuck does he know?Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°My name is Marnye Reed, and yes, I¡¯m the schrship recipient.¡± Jesus, I sound like a sFhool teaFher or something. So much for acting cool. Not that it would matter to this guy: he¡¯s already made up his mind about me. It¡¯s written all over his face, a dash of disdain drowning in haughty arrogance.

 3

    Tristan scoffs and shakes his head, immediately refocusing his gaze on mine. I¡¯m not sure how long I can maintain that stare without losing part of my soul. It¡¯s absolutely terrifying ¡­ and thrilling, all at once. I¡¯ve only ever met one guy like this before, and that didn¡¯t turn out so well.


    ¡°Schrship. Trash talk for free money handout.¡± His smile turns into a nightmarish grin. ¡°My family actually built this school, and yet, we still pay to be here. What makes you so special that you should get toe here for free?¡±


    I¡¯m so not ready or expecting this attack that it blindsides me, and I¡¯m left gaping as he reaches out and teases a strand of my loose hair around his finger. He gives a little tug on my brte waves and leans even closer, brushing my ear with his mouth.


    ¡°Pretty enough though, for white trash.¡± Without thinking, I reach up with both palms and shove this stranger back with everything I¡¯ve got. One bonus of growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, you learn to stand up for yourself. Tristan barely moves, his expression never changing. It¡¯s like shoving at a mountain of bricks. Completely and utterly immovable. ¡°How


    long do you think you¡¯llst?¡± he continues, cocking his head slightly to one side. I reach up to push his hand away from my hair, but he¡¯s already leaning back, dropping his arm-and his smile-with a sudden change in expression. His lids go half-lidded as he studies me. ¡°Not long, I don¡¯t think.¡± That beautiful mouth of his purses. ¡°Shame. I was looking forward to a challenge.¡±N?velDrama.Org content.


    Tristan turns away from me, like I¡¯m the one who¡¯s done something wrong when he waste to meet me and he was ¡­ well, doing something with an older girl in the closet. What, exactly, he was doing, I don¡¯t want to know. And yet some dark, messed-up part of me really does. Damn it.


    Even though I don¡¯t want to, I take off down the open air hallway with the blooming jasmine, and catch up to my ¡®guide¡¯ for the day. Fantastic. I¡¯ve clearly been paired with the rudest-and probably richest-boy at this school. And probably the best looking, too. My heart flutters in my chest, but I push the feeling away. I try to be nice to everyone, but I¡¯m not going to simper at some guy just because he¡¯s hot.


    He doesn¡¯t wait for me to catch up, so I have to run, panting by the time we¡¯re shoulder to shoulder. Tristan doesn¡¯t seem to notice or care that I¡¯m short of breath. Nor does he seem to notice or care that he¡¯s supposed to be showing me where the dorms-sorry, apartments-are, the ssrooms, the cafeteria.


    ¡°You¡¯re my guide for the day,¡± I say, cheeks flushed with heat from running, my fingers lifting the badge up for Tristan¡¯s inspection, shing his name on the backside. ¡°Whether you like me or not is irrelevant, you have a job to do.¡±


    Tristan pauses just outside a door with beautiful stained ss panels stretching from floor to ceiling. My instinct is to gape at it, and then snap a picture for my dad, but I¡¯m going to have to get used to the idea of not having a phone. That, and my gut instincts are telling me it¡¯d be a mistake to let this Tristan guy learn anything about me, even something as small as my fascination with historical architecture.


    ¡°A job?¡± he scoffs, taking a step back and looking me up and down with a slow sweep of silver eyes. They cut across me like a de, making me bleed. Unconsciously, I cross my arms over my chest and he chuckles. It¡¯s not a pleasant sound, not even close. Instead, Tristan¡¯sughter is mocking, like he thinks I¡¯m some cosmic joke thrust upon him by an uncaring universe. ¡°Listen, Charity,¡± he starts, and I open my mouth to tell him off


    when his palm ms into the stained ss panel behind my head. ¡°No, don¡¯t talk. There¡¯s nothing you have to say that would interest me.¡± Reaching out, Tristan runs his fingers down the side of my jaw, and I p his hand away. He snatches my wrist and holds it there, like he owns me. Looking at the guy, I get the impression that he thinks he owns the whole school. ¡°Do you know what myst name is?¡±


    ¡°After the way you¡¯ve treated me,¡± I start, lifting my chin, nostrils ring. ¡°I don¡¯t think I care to.¡±


    At myst school, we had metal detectors, drug dogs, and an on-campus police force. If Tristan thinks he can intimidate me, he¡¯s got another thinging. What I don¡¯t know in that moment is that rich boys are far more dangerous than poor ones. The poor ones might join gangs and pack heat, might rough you up for walking in the wrong neighborhood, but the rich ones have all the same instincts wrapped up in pretty faces and designer shoes, white smiles and genteel manners. The thing is, with infinite resourceses the ability to inflict infinite pain.


    ¡°If you want to survive even a single day on campus,¡± he continues, leaning in and putting his mouth so close to my ear that his breath stirs my hair, raising goose bumps on my arm. I can¡¯t decide if I like or hate his proximity, his long, lean body brushing up against the front of me, one knee between my legs. My breasts just barely brush his chest, two crisp white shirts teasing one another with each breath we take. ¡°Then you best learn it


    -and quick.¡±


    Tristan releases me and steps back. The arrogance in his handsome face is staggering, his high cheekbones and full mouth a waste on such a haughty face. He¡¯s too full of himself to be pretty. Liar, my mind whispers, but I brush that aside. The guy practically assaulted me. If he thinks I won¡¯t report his ass, he¡¯s got another thinging.


    ¡°That girl in the closet ¡­¡± I blurt before I can stop myself. There¡¯s a morbid fascination brewing in me that I know I should tamp down. y with me and get burned. That¡¯s a hard fact of life I learned long ago, so what the hell am I doing?


    Tristan slides long fingers through his lush, raven-colored hair, looking down at me like I¡¯m gum on the bottom of his shoe. I¡¯m not surprised. By the time lunch rolls around, the whole school will be calling me Charity.


    ¡°Want me to tell you how I fucked her?¡± he asks as heat rushes up the back of my neck and burns my cheeks. ¡°If youst the week,¡± he continues,


    reaching up to adjust his ck silk tie, ¡°maybe I will.¡±


    He turns then and leaves me standing alone on the walkway. On either side of the awning, rain begins to fall.


    That¡¯s not a good omen, not a good omen at all.

 4

    Without a guide, Burberry Preparatory Academy is like abyrinth of old stone hallways and spiraling staircases. It¡¯s haunted by a mncholy beauty that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, like I can sense the history crouching inside the building, eras long past watching from shadowed eyes.


    ¡°Hey.¡± A voice sounds from behind me, and I jump, stifling a small scream as I spin and find a girl with bright blond hair and a wide smile. If it weren¡¯t for the genuine warmth in her blue eyes, her beauty would be intimidating, almost cold in its perfection. She bears a striking resemnce to the marble statue in the corner, carved infallibility and ster pale skin. ¡°Are you lost?¡±


    ¡°Am I that obvious?¡± I ask, risking a small smile and hoping like hell she¡¯s nothing like Tristan. ¡°I¡¯ve been wandering around for half an hour, but I¡¯m too embarrassed to ask for help.¡± Embarrassed? More like too anxious. The looks I¡¯ve been receiving from the other students haven¡¯t exactly been weing. That, and the staff I¡¯ve seen have all been running around in that panicked first-day-of-school state, prepping lesson ns and greeting students they¡¯ve known since preschool. I¡¯ve never felt like more of an outcast-and trust me, I¡¯ve been a pariah before.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Cabot Schrship Award winner, right?¡± the girl asks, her voice like bells. Wow. Her voice is as pretty as she is. But also, looks like the whole school already knows my socio-economic status, huh? ¡°Oh, no, no,¡±


    she continues, waving her hand in my direction, ¡°it¡¯s not what you¡¯re thinking. I just ¡­ my mother is Kathleen Cabot.¡±


    My mouth pops open, and I lean forward, my leather school bag clutched in two hands.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    ¡°Your mom is Kathleen?¡± I ask, feeling this sharp sense of relief wash through me. Kathleen Cabot is a self-made billionaire. Yep, you heard it right: billionaire. She was born in the same neighborhood as me, raised by a single mom in a studio apartment, and ended up bing a tech mogul. I met her twice: once at the award ceremony, and thenter at the celebratory dinner. She¡¯s a freaking saint-and the only reason I¡¯m standing here at Burberry Prep.


    ¡°I take it she made an impression?¡± the girl asks with a wry smile. ¡°Good or bad? She can go either way, depending on the weather, the position of the stars, whether it¡¯s a full moon or not ¡­¡± A grin takes over my face.


    ¡°Good impression, definitely. I¡¯ve spent thest three weeks trying to write the perfect thank you letter.¡± The girl smiles back at me, holding out a warm, dry palm for me to shake.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be happy with anything you send her,¡± she says as we sp hands. ¡°Miranda Cabot. And you¡¯re Marnye Reed.¡± Miranda takes a step back and looks me over. ¡°I hope you¡¯re made of tough stuff,¡± she says, but not unkindly.


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± I ask as her blue eyes lift to my face and one pale brow goes up.


    ¡°Because Burberry Prep is a hellhole dressed with money.¡± Miranda gives me a big, wide smile and then reaches out a hand. ¡°Give me your schedule, and I¡¯ll tell you which demons to avoid.¡± She pauses and gives me another critical look. ¡°Mostly though, you¡¯ll want to stay away from the devils.¡±


    ¡°The devils?¡± I ask, digging my wrinkled schedule out of my pocket and passing it over to Miranda. She scans it, chewing her full lower lip and smearing sparkly pink gloss. When she nces back up at me and reaches out to spin my nametag over, her mouth tightens into a thin line.


    ¡°The devils,¡± Miranda says with a sigh. ¡°Nobody calls them that but me. Looks like you already met one this morning?¡± She¡¯s looking at me with pity now, like she¡¯s well-acquainted with Tristan and his bullshit.


    ¡°What does everyone else call them?¡± I ask, and she sighs, looping her arm through mine and pulling me down the long, wide hallway. It¡¯s big


    enough to drive a truck through, small tables with lemon-cucumber water and cups ced every so often. Sometimes there¡¯s fresh fruit or pastries, too. ¡°Oh, girl, you and I have a long talk ahead of us. Stick with me. We have Monday sses together. By the time we¡¯re done, you¡¯ll know everything


    you need to know about the Idols.¡±


    The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Miranda Cabot


    The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one), Zayd Kaiser (year one), and Creed Cabot (year one)


    The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one), BeFky tter (year one), and Gena Whitley (year four)


    The Inner CirFle: Andrew Payson, Anna KirkpatriFk, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner ¡­ and, I guess, me!


    Plebs: everyone else, sorry. XOXO


    ¡°Why am I holding a list of names in my hand?¡± I ask as we walk down the hallway, pausing for coffee at one of the side tables. My old school never served coffee to students. Sometimes, kids would break into the teacher¡¯s lounge and steal some, but that¡¯s as close as we¡¯d ever get.


    ¡°Memorize that list like your life depends on it,¡± Miranda says, lifting a mug of ck coffee up to her lips.


    ¡°Miss Cabot,¡± a stern voice says, plucking the white cup from Miranda¡¯s thin fingers. ¡°You know that the coffee stands are for staff only.¡± I turn and find a tall, brte woman in a skirt suit watching us with a raised brow and


    a wry half-smile. She looks like she¡¯d be more at home in Washington D. C. than in a rural prep school in central California. ¡°There¡¯s a sign, after all. And I know you can read. Your mother promises she taught you herself.¡±


    My mouth twitches as Miranda tosses her hair in a haughty gesture that doesn¡¯t seem to quite fit her personality. And that¡¯s a good thing. I¡¯ve known a lot of hair-tossers in my life, and none of those girls were pleasant. They made my middle school years a living hell with the help of a guy named Zack Brooks. ZaFk ¡­ I¡¯m not going to let myself think about him. This is my chance at a fresh start and new, better memories.

 5

    ¡°Ms. Felton, I see the war against caffeine is still on,¡± Miranda grumbles, waiting for Ms. Felton to turn her back, so she can flip her off. ¡°It¡¯s a losing battle-like the war on drugs.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you wait until tomorrow, and we can discuss politics in ss?¡± Ms. Felton dumps the coffee into the drain of a water fountain as we turn the corner and Miranda rolls her blue eyes at me.


    ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s Ms. Felton. She¡¯s a bit of a rule Nazi. She can get away with it, too, since she was an Idol once upon a time. It¡¯s like, that shit never fades.¡± Miranda pauses and then peeps around the corner, like she¡¯s checking to see if Ms. Felton¡¯s following us. She¡¯s not. Miranda grins and then gestures at my belly with loose fingers. ¡°Roll it, or be forever dubbed a Pleb.¡±


    ¡°A ¡­ what?¡± I ask as Miranda untucks her shirt, and then proceeds to roll the waistband of her red pleated skirt until it¡¯s dangerously short, like Fan¡¯t bend over or reaFh for too high of a shelf short. A light breeze is liable to blow it right off. ¡°Pleb? Like ¡­ Plebeian?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Miranda says with a sigh, tucking her shirt back in and then looking at me like I¡¯m crazy. When I don¡¯t move to copy her, she groans and steps forward, tugging the crisp white blouse from my waistband. I sort of just stand there and let her do her thing. It¡¯s exhrating, naughty but in an innocent sort of way. ¡°It¡¯s stupid, I know, but it¡¯s how it is here.¡±


    Once my skirt¡¯s the appropriate level of, well, inappropriate, Miranda leans over and taps the piece of paper she wrote out for me. On the bottom, there¡¯s the term Pleb with the words everyone else written after it.


    ¡°Plebeian means, like,moner or peasant,¡± Miranda continues, huffing and tucking loose strands of tinum blonde behind her ears. It¡¯s so pale, it¡¯s practically white, but when the sun leaks in through the stained ss windows and bathes her in light, it¡¯s angelic, glowing as golden as a halo. ¡°If


    you¡¯re not an Idol or in the Inner Circle, then you¡¯re a Pleb. Once a Pleb, always a Pleb.¡± Miranda pauses and lifts her eyes to the ceiling, long darkshes fluttering. I think she¡¯s got eysh extensions, but it would be rude to ask. Hell, maybe I¡¯m just jealous and she¡¯s just pretty? ¡°Well, except this one time when Karen Evermeet screwed the ser coach, and shared the video with the whole school.¡± Miranda shes me a model-esque smile. ¡°She went from Pleb to Idol in a day. But that never happens.¡±


    My lips curve up in a slight smile, and I squeeze her hand back before letting go.


    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± I say, feeling this new sort ofradery simmer between us. There are things in that essay that could destroy me at Burberry


    Prep.


    We turn another corner, and I wonder if she¡¯s going to get to this piece of paper in my hand before we reach the chapel for the morning announcements. Or, like, if we¡¯re even going to get to the chapel at all. How far did I wander? And how big is this Fe?!


    I mean, I studied the map of Burberry Prep religiously, lying in the hot white heat of summer on my dad¡¯s sun-deadwn, shades on my eyes, headphones on my ears. I memorized the entireyout, and yet ¡­ I¡¯m so turned around I don¡¯t even remember which door I came in. Looking at a t illustration of something, and walking it in person are twopletely different things.


    Lifting my head up, I see something that takes my breath away. Or ¡­ more like someone.


    ¡°Who the hell is that?¡± I choke out as my eyes catch on the tinum blond head of the most beautiful boy I¡¯ve ever seen. He¡¯s lounging in a chair with insouciant disregard, an air of entitledziness captured in his long limbs. The way he sits there, boneless, bored, but with bright, piercing eyes, it all reminds me of a cat. Azy, spoiled housecat.


    His hair shimmers in the light from outside, bits of sun breaking through the clouds. Outside, there¡¯s a rainbow stretching across campus that I can just barely see through the ss, but it¡¯s nowhere near as beautiful as the guy in the loose tie and half-tucked shirt. He¡¯s still crisp, still polished and put- together, but with an air of effortlessness that Tristan Vanderbilt doesn¡¯t have. Nah, that guy has a stick shoved so far up his ass, he could never luxuriate across a chair the way this one does.


    ¡°That,¡± Miranda starts as the boy¡¯s ice-colored eyes swing our way, ¡°is my twin brother: Creed Cabot.¡±


    My mouth opens, and then snaps closed when I realize that I have absolutely nothing productive to say. I¡¯m enthralled, held by that sharp gaze as Creed makes his way over to us. He¡¯s tall, sure, but he feels even taller by the way he stands, his fingers just lightly tucked into his pockets, the top two buttons on his shirt undone. His jacket is nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Mandy,¡± he says by way of greeting, looking at his sister¡¯s skirt with distaste. Creed Cabot ¡­ he doesn¡¯t even give me the time of day. Rude muFh? I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, waiting for him to acknowledge me. ¡°Was wondering where you¡¯d disappeared to. Andrew¡¯s looking for you.¡± Miranda nods and then holds out a hand to indicate me.


    ¡°Are you going to say hi to the new student?¡± she asks, those ice-blue eyes of Creed¡¯s sliding over to me. I swear, even from here, I can smell him. He¡¯s got this crisp linen scent with just a hint of tobo, like he¡¯s been hanging out with someone who smokes but isn¡¯t a smoker himself.


    ¡°Am I?¡± he asks, looking me up and down with a calcting coolness to his gaze. ¡°And why should I?¡±


    ¡°Oh for shit¡¯s sake, Creed, this is Marnye Reed.¡± Miranda raises her brows and waits for him to make the connection. Apparently, he already has. ¡°Yeah, Mom¡¯s pet peasant. I already know that.¡± Creed looks at me, his skin like baster, his expression as haughty as Tristan¡¯s. ¡°Charity work is her thing. Doesn¡¯t have to be mine.¡± Creed turns away as Miranda sputters,


    and I do my best toe up with a quick retort.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°Charity isn¡¯t what got me here, Mr. Cabot. It was hard work and dedication.¡±

 6

    Miranda pauses again and then reaches out to ruffle up my hair with her fingers, curling one brte ringlet next to my face. ¡°I mean, unless you¡¯re into forty-year-old married athletes.¡±


    ¡°Not quite that adventurous, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I say as Miranda gestures with her chin, and I study the paper again. Tristan Vanderbilt, huh? When I look up, I catch sigh of a bronze quebelled Vanderbilt Study Hall. Right. ¡°My family aFtually built this sFhool, and yet ¡­ we still pay to be here. What makes you so speFial that you should get to Fome here for free?¡± Guess he wasn¡¯t joking about that first part. The rest of it ¡­ that asshole has no idea how hard I worked to get here.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t sell yourself short. You have other, more important traits and talents. My mom and I read over a thousand essays before choosing yours.¡± Miranda studies me as we walk, the rain beating a rhythmic pattern against the stone walkways outside. Somehow though, even though this building¡¯s big and drafty, it¡¯s nice and warm in here. ¡°Must¡¯ve been a lot of hard work, jumping through all those hoops.¡± Miranda sounds a bit detached when she says that, like her mind¡¯s already long gone to somewhere else.


    Me, I¡¯m flushed, and my skin feels suddenly hot. I stop walking and Miranda pauses next to me, blinking the fog from her vision. I knew my essay would be read by ¡®qualified student judges¡¯ but ¡­ Our eyes meet, and her expression softens. This girl now officially knows everything there is to know about me. She knows my darkest memories, my greatest fears.


    ¡°I loved your essay,¡± she says, reaching out to squeeze my hand, ¡°and I won¡¯t tell anyone what I read. Not only am I seriously desperate to make friends with you, but my mom would kill me. You¡¯ve met her: she¡¯s terri


    fying.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t even slow his stride to acknowledge that I¡¯ve spoken. Somehow, that¡¯s worse than having hime at me with a verbal assault the way Tristan did. What is wrong with these people? Is everyone at this school an arrogant jerk?


    ¡°Don¡¯t let him get to you,¡± Miranda exins, but she doesn¡¯t sound particrly sure of herself. ¡°He¡¯s an asshole to everybody.¡± She takes my wrist and pulls me along, toward a crowd that¡¯s bottlenecking the entrance to a cavernous chapel. ¡°This way,¡± she continues, nodding with her head as we move up to a small door on the left of the main entrance. Miranda uses a key to open it and then lets me into a narrow hallway with beautiful rose red transom windows situated near the high ceiling.


    ¡°Whoa, how do you get invited to this club?¡± I whisper, following Miranda down the hall and then up a set of stone stairs. The smell of cigarette smoke wafts over to me, and we pause at the firstnding. Without skipping a beat, Miranda answers me and plucks a cigarette from the fingers of the boy who¡¯s smoking it.


    ¡°Only Idols, Inner Circle, and staff are allowed back here,¡± she tells me, cocking out a hip as the dark-haired boy sitting on the edge of the windowsill turns to re at her. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me, Gregory Van Horn? If Ms. Felton catches you smoking on day one, you¡¯re in for a world of trouble.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a fucking pastor¡¯s daughter,¡± the guy responds, leaning despondently against the stone, and then ncing over at me. His gaze is


    assessing, but much less judgmental than my previous two acquaintances. ¡°Who¡¯s this? The charity case?¡±


    ¡°Everyone knows?¡± Miranda asks, and my heart plummets into my stomach. It does seem that way, doesn¡¯t it? That everyone knows I¡¯m the only person at this school whose family doesn¡¯t have a worth equivalent to the GDP of a small country? ¡°How bad is the damage?¡±


    ¡°Girl from the wrong side of the tracks, short, chubby, dull hair, not even fuckable. If she were fuckable, maybe she could be a Pleb. As of right now, Harper¡¯s already started calling her the Working Girl.¡±


    My cheeks flush, but I¡¯m not stupid enough to miss the connection. Admittedly, it¡¯s a clever y on words: working girl, like blue-cor working girl ¡­ and working girl, like prostitute.


    ¡°What do you mean, maybe she Fould be a Pleb?¡± Miranda asks, pausing at the sound of the door mming behind us. We both turn around to find one of the most beautiful girls I¡¯ve ever seen staring right at me. How is everyone in this school pretty?! Boys and girls alike. Must be the personal chefs, chauffeurs, maids, personal stylists, and stic surgeons. Life must be so easy when you barely have to live it. My hands curl into fists; I¡¯m expecting a confrontation.


    The girl at the bottom of the stairs is already looking at me like I¡¯m public enemy number one.


    ¡°Kesha Darling is a Pleb,¡± the girl says, her voice high and cultured, a soprano just waiting to sing. ¡°And her father owns a chain of pharmacies valued at over a hundred and sixty million dors.¡± The girl-I¡¯m guessing this is the infamous Harper?-crosses one arm over her chest, resting the elbow of the other in her palm. She gestures dismissively in my direction. ¡°So why on earth should some penniless bitch from the ghetto be ranked right up alongside her?¡± Harper moves toward me, her glossy mane of chestnut hair swinging, her skirt even shorter than Miranda¡¯s, makeup professionally done. She pauses in front of me, several inches taller. Several inches skinnier, too. We both notice. My hands tighten on my schoolbag. ¡°Do you know what Social Darwinism is, Working Girl?¡±


    ¡°The name¡¯s Marnye,¡± I say, my voice edging dangerously close to a growl. I can take a lot of shit, but I¡¯ve already had my fill for the day. ¡°And yeah, I do know what that is: a bunch of bullshit propaganda perpetuated by the super-rich to exin why they eat cake and everyone else suffers.¡±


    ¡°Aw,¡± Harper purrs, pouting her perfectly painted pink lips, ¡°look at you, so smart, using a Marie Antote reference.¡± She leans in toward me, her sweet vani-peach smell making me sick. ¡°If you think you¡¯ve got what it takes, bring your pitchforks, peasant, and take my head.¡± With augh like sparkling water, Harper stands back up and flips her hair over her shoulder.


    And there it is, the supreme hair flip. She executed it perfectly; it suits her. I knew we were never going to get along.


    Harper brushes past me, ncing down at the guy on the windowsill, Greg.


    ¡°No Working Girls in the Gallery,¡± she says, and he nods, raising his eyebrows at Miranda as she sputters and flushes. When she turns to me, I hold up a hand to stop her from trying to exin.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I tell her, stepping back. ¡°I get it.¡± I turn around and head back down the hallway, leaving the way I came and making for the crowd jostling to get into the chapel.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Miranda calls after a moment, running after me and pausing to pant when she catches up. Her face is firm with resolve. ¡°I¡¯ll sit with you today.¡±


    A smile lights my face and warmth fills my chest. That¡¯s when I know we¡¯re going to be friends for sure.


    Based on how things are going, she very well might be the only one I¡¯ll have.

 7

    Burberry Prep isn¡¯t a religious school, but it used to be, and while the crosses have been removed, a bit of Catholic ir remains in the rows of pews, the raised dais, the stained ss windows, and the nooks that used to house saints and now house kissing teenagers.


    With so many people crammed into the church-turned-auditorium, the air feels charged with excitement and anticipation for the uing school year. I wish I could share in it, but all of my enthusiasm has been snatched awayN?velDrama.Org content.


    -and fast. I didn¡¯t expect to get my spirit crushed for a few weeks yet.


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about how the morning¡¯s gone,¡± Miranda whispers, her jaw clenched tight, fingers teasing the hem of her skirt. She nces over at me and forces a smile. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s my fault for drawing their attention to you. I¡¯ll get them off your back though, I swear it.¡±


    ¡°Your fault?¡± I ask, raising both brows. ¡°This is nowhere near your fault. That Tristan guy started it when he decided to be a jerk to me this morning.¡± Don¡¯t think about that girl¡¯s swollen lips, her Flothes all askanFe, Tristan¡¯s triumphant smirk ¡­ ¡°And don¡¯t worry, I expected it.¡± Pausing, I give Miranda a critical look. I¡¯m not judging, but I¡¯m curious to understand why she¡¯s so keen on making friends with me when her peers act like they¡¯d enjoy seeing me drawn and quartered. ¡°Could I ask you why you¡¯re so interested in being friends with me anyway?¡± Raising my hands, I continue before Miranda can get her feelings hurt. ¡°Not that I¡¯m not grateful or anything. Seriously, meeting you has been the highlight of my week.¡±


    Just before I packed up and got shipped out here, I had a pretty shitty birthday week at home. Dad was drinking again, so badly that I almost didn¡¯t leave. I almost stayed to take care of him, but I guess I¡¯m too selfish to give up an opportunity like this. It was Mom¡¯s fault, I think, resisting the urge to give into that old anger. First time in almost a year that she shows up at our doorstep and it¡¯s right before I leave. Every time he has a chance encounter with that woman, Dad falls off the wagon. She told me to thank her for redshirting me as a child (dying my start in kindergarten until age six), handed off a stack of presents for my fifteenth birthday, and scattered like leaves in the fall wind.


    ¡°I ¡­¡± Miranda starts, pausing briefly and exhaling. She lifts her blue eyes to mine. ¡°Did Mom tell you her story?¡± She asks, and I nod. I know all about Kathleen Cabot and her rise to the top of the tech industry and the Forbes Most Powerful Women in America list. ¡°How about the part where she had Creed and me, and then moved into Grenadine Heights and sent us to public school?¡±


    My eyebrows go up, and I think my mouth opens in shock. Kathleen Cabot is worth billions, and she moved to Grenadine Heights? Sure,pared to the train car my father lives in (don¡¯t ask, long story), it¡¯s a little ritzy, but most people would call it straight-up middle-ss. And public school, huh?


    ¡°Political statement?¡± I ask, and Miranda shrugs, tucking some of that beautiful tinum blonde behind her ear. Her brother¡¯s hair was just as light, maybe lighter, almost white but with an unmistakable gold sheen in the sunlight. Another useless riFh asshole. I banish him from my thoughts. Well, I mean, if I were alone in my bed then maybe I might think about him ¡­ My cheeks heat, and I refocus on Miranda.


    ¡°She wanted us to grow up well, but with enough sense to ¡­¡± Miranda gestures in the direction of the Gallery which, apparently, is the name for the balcony on the second floor, to the left of the stage. Rows offortable chairs line the space, and even though I try not to, I just have to nce up and see who¡¯s sitting there.


    Tristan Vanderbilt is front and center, impossible to miss with that dark smirk of his, like shadows under the guise of a full, ripe mouth. Creed Cabot sits beside him, but not like a flunky or a sidekick, more like a rival. That bitch, Harper du Pont, is on Tristan¡¯s left, with a tow-headed girl next to her. Andrew¡¯s up there, too, and when he sees me staring, he waves.


    A small smile teases my lips. Okay, fine. I have enemies in Tristan, Creed, and Harper. Maybe that guy that was smoking, too (Gregory, was it?) but I have allies, too. So the Idols and the-I check the page still clutched in my fist-Inner Circle, they can¡¯t be all rotten. I can deal with a few bad apples.


    ¡°Enough sense not to act like Creed acted today,¡± Miranda finally says,pleting her thought. ¡°Guess the trick didn¡¯t work with him, but maybe it worked too well on me.¡± She looks down at her bare knees for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ve never feltfortable going to school with these people. I miss my old school, to be honest with you. If I could go to Grenadine Heights High, I would transfer in a second.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that I¡¯m the only normal person on campus?¡± I ask, and Miranda lifts her head, shing me a grin.


    ¡°Pretty much. Everyone else here is too busy loving themselves to waste energy on anyone else.¡± She shrugs her shoulders and leans back in the pew, taking in the room with a critical eye. I¡¯ve never been so grateful for uniforms in my life; it¡¯s impossible to tell the billionaires from the millionaires from the ¡­ charity cases. Sigh. There are little touches here and there though that give off hints of personality: a ck bow covered in skulls, an armful of wooden bangles, bright red shoces. All of which are technically against the dress code, but it¡¯s the first day; students are pushing limits.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to be your one normal friend in the whole school,¡± I say with a grin, ¡°but I¡¯m nowhere near Grenadine Heights High. More like ¡­ if I¡¯d stayed home, I would¡¯ve been going to Lower Banks High.¡± Miranda¡¯s brows go up, and I give a half-smile. I know the reputation of LBH. My middle school, located right across the street, doesn¡¯t have a much better one.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure the students at LBH are any worse than the ones here,¡± Miranda hedges, eyes lifting up to the Gallery where the uh, Idols are sitting. Three male, three female Idols. What a strange social hierarchy, and so structured. As we¡¯re sitting there, Miranda pulls the paper from my hand, drawing lines between names. ¡°The solid lines mean they¡¯re dating. Broken lines mean they¡¯re on-again, off-again. Wavy lines means they¡¯re rivals.¡±


    ¡°How screwed am I?¡± I ask finally, just as the crowd begins to settle down and a group of administrators takes their positions on the dais at the front of the room. Miranda won¡¯t meet my eyes, flicking hers up to Ms. Felton as she takes center stage and starts theme


    ncement speeches.

 8

    We might be at a


    school for the world¡¯s wealthiest students, but I swear I¡¯ve heard this very same speech a million times in my life.


    ¡°If all the Idols are against you ¡­¡± she starts, swallowing hard and tapping her pen against the paper on myp. ¡°Then I have to admit that I¡¯d be worried about you. Seriously fucking worried. The odds are not good, Marnye.¡±


    Nodding, I focus my attention on the front of the room and try not to think the worst.


    I¡¯ve faced bullies before, and I survived; I can do it again.


    What I don¡¯t know then is that these guys ¡­ are nothing like the ones at my old school.


    Things are about to get much, much worse before they get better.


    REED, MARNYE  1st YEAR, BURBERRY PREP ACADEMIC SCHEDULE MONDAY/WEDNESDAY/1st FRIDAY:


    Homeroom: Mrs. Felton, Room T1 2 Period 1: AFademiF Literature, Room CH7 Period 2: Trig/Pre-CalF, Room CH9 LunFh Period


    Period 3: Beginning Japanese, Room T210


    TUESDAY/THURSDAY/2nd FRIDAY:


    Homeroom: Mrs. Felton, Room T1 2 Period 1: AP Chemistry, Room SB1


    Period 2: Art, MusiF, and DanFe, Room MM1 LunFh Period


    Period 3: Government, History, and CiviFs, Room CH3


    MANDATORY FOR ALL FIRST YEARS:


    PhysiFal fitness and health ss is held in the gym every other Monday after sFhool unless the student is partiFipating in team sports. AbsenFes


    require a FoaFh¡¯s written approval. This is Fompulsory beginning the seFond week of ss.


    Tucking my schedule in my pocket, I follow Miranda to our shared homeroom ss on the twelfth floor of the first of the four towers I saw in the courtyard this morning. Based on my own life experiences, I¡¯m already dreading walking up twelve flights of stone steps. But once we get inside the ancient looking stone structure, it¡¯s all modern luxuries: including an elevator.


    An elevator, in a high school. Wow, so this is how the other half lives? Of course, if it were up to me, I¡¯d scrap the elevators and offer the money needed for their maintenance and instation to more schrship students, buuuuuut that¡¯s just me. Guess I¡¯m in the minority. After all, I am the only schrship student in the entire school.


    Between these families, there¡¯s literally billions of dors floating around, and they can¡¯t be bothered to search out a dozen qualified students to lift out of poverty. Fantastic.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Miranda mumbles as we file into the elevator, our bookbags held in front of our short skirts. I¡¯m starting to learn that when the wind blows, and a Marilyn Monroe moment is imminent, the bookbag¡¯s to be used as a shield. Oh, and also, I need to seriously invest in better panties. The ones I¡¯m wearing currently are in cotton, and an embarrassing shade of baby pink. From what I¡¯ve seen-and I¡¯ve seen a lot on the walk between the chapel building and what the students call Tower One-everyone else is wearingcy thongs and silky scraps. ¡°Tristan¡¯sing this way.¡±


    ¡°Out of the elevator, Charity,¡± he tells me, a smirk curving his lips as he ms a palm against the closing doors and halts them in their tracks. ¡°You¡¯re new, so I won¡¯t have you flogged for the infraction, but get the fuck out.¡±


    ¡°First off, the name is Marnye. Second, there¡¯s plenty of room in here for all of us,¡± I start, but Miranda¡¯s already grabbing me by the arm and dragging me back out into the lobby. Tristan¡¯s gray eyes track my


    movements like a predator just waiting for his prey to slip up. I can imagine that if I fell, he¡¯d be at my throat in an instant.


    ¡°Idols ride first, and they ride alone,¡± Miranda says, but that¡¯s just before Tristan herds the trio of smirking girls behind him into the elevator. He watches me as the doors closed, but his expression is far from pleasant. It¡¯s like he¡¯s trying to drink in my suffering, no droplet too small top up. ¡°Unless, you know, they wantpany. Day one and he¡¯s already gathered himself a harem. Typical.¡±


    ¡°How is he already an Idol if he¡¯s a first year?¡± I ask, and Miranda sighs, waiting for the elevator to tick up to the top floor before it starts toe down again. ¡°Is there a legacy bonus for that, too?¡± I do my best not to eye roll, but the scores I needed to get into this school had to be forty perFent higher than some of the other students because of their ¡®legacy bonus¡¯, i. e. points on their application granted to them simply for having family members who attended the school before them.


    ¡°Well, not technically, but reputations do carry. Tristan Vanderbilt¡¯s been a big deal since he started going to preschool on the junior campus.¡± The doors to the elevator open, and Miranda waves me on. We stand side by side, our shiny ck loafers identical from heel to toe.


    Pursing my lips, I decide to keep the rest of mymentary to myself. My day hasn¡¯t even officially started yet, and I¡¯m already in a world of trouble.


    The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a ssroom beyond the likes of anything I ever could¡¯ve imagined. Even the website and the brochures didn¡¯t prepare me for this.


    ¡°Holy crap,¡± I whisper, looking up at the chandelier above our heads. It¡¯s clearly new, but designed with the time period of the building in mind, little me-shaped bulbs where candles would¡¯ve stood once upon a time. Instead of desks, there are three tables set in a U-shape, their mahogany surfaces gleaming.


    Ms. Felton sits in the center at a small, but ornate desk of her own. Most of the chairs are already filled, and I realize that everyone¡¯s looking our way, waiting for us to sit. Miranda and I take hasty seats in thest two avable spots, and I¡¯m relieved that she is sitti


    ng next to that Gregory guy, and I¡¯m not. No of course I¡¯m not.

 9

    ¡°Good morning everyone,¡± Ms. Felton says, standing up and smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt suit. Politician. That¡¯s what I get when


    I look at her. That, or maybewyer. Lobbyist. Something of that sort. She looks far too smart, and far too cunning to be holed away at a private university in the middle of nowhere. ¡°My name is Carrie-Anne Felton, and I¡¯ll be your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year.¡± stering a smile on her face, she makes her way around the room. ¡°This is your safe space, so to speak, in the world of academics, a ce to feel grounded, to discuss problems-¡±


    Ms. Felton pauses, and the entire room turns to look as the elevator opens, and a guy with razored mint green hair appears, the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt pushed up, his muscr forearms covered in tattoos. My eyes widen and my heart skips several beats as he steps into the room like he owns the ce.


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯mte, Carrie-Anne,¡± he says, green eyes sweeping the room anding to rest on me. Pretty sure I¡¯m the only person in this room he doesn¡¯t recognize. He surveys me for a moment, and then flicks his attention back to our teacher. ¡°No seat for me?¡±


    ¡°It seems we¡¯re short one chair,¡± Ms. Felton says, checking the iPad in her arms. ¡°We have one more student than originally nned ¡­¡±


    ¡°Get up, Charity,¡± Tristan whispers, leaning over and focusing quite clearly on me. ¡°You¡¯re the one who¡¯s attending for free. Zayd¡¯s family actually pays for him to go here. Don¡¯t you think he deserves a chair?¡±


    My cheeks heat up with anger, but I don¡¯t move from where I¡¯m sitting. I¡¯d rather die. Little do I know in that moment, the Idols will try their hardest to achieve that end.


    ¡°I think if Burberry Prep can afford elevators, it can afford an extra chair.¡± My voice is quiet, but firm. Miranda makes a small, helpless sound from beside me, and Tristan sits up, lifting his chin like I¡¯ve just seriously pissed him off.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of affording chairs,¡± Ms. Felton interrupts, misreading the situation and waving her hand dismissively. ¡°This is a small room, and we didn¡¯t want more furniture than necessary. I¡¯ll have the maintenance staff bring another up. Mr. Kaiser, seeing as you¡¯re the only person who refused to show up on time, you can stand for the time being.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure, Ms. Felton,¡± he purrs, swaggering over to the window and propping himself on one of the wide, stone sills. His eyes go half-lidded, and he looks the teacher up and down appreciatively. ¡°Anything for you.¡± Most of the students chuckle, but I can¡¯t seem to stop studying this guy. Colored


    hair is expressly prohibited in the student dress code, and here this guy is with mint green hair, piercings in his lips and brow, and arms covered in tattoos.


    ¡°Zayd¡¯s agent got him some special working contract,¡± Miranda whispers, reading my mind. ¡°Like, he has to maintain a certain look for his career. That, and it¡¯s rumored this his agent, Bob Rosenberg, is fucking Vice Principal Castor.¡± My mouth twitches at the corner, but I¡¯m not surprised. Nothing at this school could surprise me at this point.


    ¡°And what¡¯s his career?¡± I ask, casting another nce in Zayd¡¯s direction. He¡¯s easy on the eyes, that¡¯s for sure. My stomach twists into a little knot, and I bite my lower lip.


    ¡°Rock star.¡± Miranda grins when I give her a questioning look. ¡°Lead singer of the band Afterglow. They¡¯re kind of a big deal; they had over a hundred thousand downloads of their debut albumst year, and like a hundred million streams.¡±Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    Ms. Felton gives Zayd a narrow-eyed look, like she¡¯s used to this sort of bullshit from entitled teens, and goes back to her speech, telling us all how we should be able to speak freely in here, how there are no limits to the discussions we can have, and so on and so forth. Pretty sure I¡¯m the only person listening, and when the bell in the chapel sounds, I¡¯m also thest one out.


    Except for Zayd Kaiser.


    ¡°You,¡± he says, like he expects me to leap at his beck and call. ¡°You¡¯re new here?¡±


    ¡°This is Marnye Reed,¡± Miranda says, beaming happily and gesturing at me like I¡¯m her newest, greatest find. I think she senses a possible Idol ally for me, but ¡­ I don¡¯t think so. The way Zayd¡¯s looking at me, like I¡¯m a piece of meat he might use and throw away, I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s dead- wrong. I have a way of reading people. Been doing it my whole life. Back at LBH, it could literally be the difference between life and death. At the end ofst year, one of the freshmen was murdered by two seniors.


    ¡°Marnye Reed,¡± Zayd starts, his voice this husky purr that gets under your skin in the best possible way. He taps an inked finger against his mouth for a moment, and then snaps his fingers. ¡°Right. A few of the others texted me about you this morning, before the great phone purge.¡± He crinkles his brow and then flicks at one of his silver lip rings with a tattooed finger. ¡°What they¡¯re saying about you, it¡¯s just not right.¡± My mouth pops open, and I feel


    the briefest inkling of relief. Maybe I don¡¯t have to be in a feud with every popr kid on campus. ¡°They¡¯re calling you the Working Girl, but they¡¯re also saying you¡¯re not fuckable.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I choke, but Zayd¡¯s already smiling at me with sharp, sharp lips, like a razorde threatening to cut. His hair is spiked up, his shirt mussed, and half his buttons are undone. I can see another tattoo lingering on the fine nes of his chest.


    ¡°What I¡¯m saying is, you can¡¯t be a Working Girl and an unfuckabl


    e virgin all at once.¡±

 10

    Zayd leans in close to me, close enough that I can smell cloves and tobo on his skin. Maybe he thinks smoking clove cigarettes makes him a badass. It doesn¡¯t. All it does is make him look like a douche. ¡°And really,¡± he reaches out to tease some of the loose hair hanging by my face. ¡°I¡¯d fuck you, if you were game.¡± Zayd grins at me, but it¡¯s not a kind expression. It¡¯s derisive, mocking, demeaning. ¡°That¡¯s the best offer you¡¯ll get all year, so I suggest you take it.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go to hell?¡± I blurt back, my cheeks flushed, my head swimming. How is this happening? I haven¡¯t even had my first ss yet, and I¡¯ve already been put through the wringer. I¡¯m exhausted. I wonder how long it¡¯ll take them to get tired of picking on me. Maybe never. In middle school, they didn¡¯t get tired until ¡­ Zack changed things.


    ¡°Last chance, Working Girl.¡± Zayd leans in even closer and puts his mouth near my ear. ¡°I¡¯ll even pay you for your services: whatever the fee is, I can afford it.¡±


    Without thinking, I lift a hand, intending to p him in the face. Zayd intercepts the motion, giving my wrist a squeeze before smirking and stepping back. He releases me, but not before looking me up and down with a dark glimmer in his green eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to regret that move,¡± he tells me, and I¡¯m so flustered that I can¡¯t seem toe up with a response.


    Me? Regret this moment? The only person who¡¯s going to regret anything today is Zayd Kaiser when I report him to the school administration.


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth it,¡± Miranda whispers, putting her arm through mine. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go to ss and hopefully by the end of the day, they¡¯ll forget about tormenting you.¡±


    With a nod, I follow along behind her. My eyes are stinging with tears, but I won¡¯t shed them.


    I refuse to give these guys the satisfaction.


    By the time lunch rolls around, Miranda¡¯s done some recon, sliding into the seat across from me and picking up the menu from her te. And yes, I said it: menu. The ¡®cafeteria¡¯ is set up like a restaurant with servers and busboys, tables set with tes and cloth napkins, small menus printed on cardstock that make me think of two birthdays ago when Dad splurged and took me to a fancy restaurant for dinner.


    My mind is racing, and I feel cold all over, like I¡¯m so far out of my element I may never get warm again.


    ¡°It¡¯s bad, Marnye,¡± she says, sighing and then pausing to ce her order with our waiter. Me, I¡¯ve already got a te of souki FhiFken with roasted lemon potatoes topped with feta. Frankly, I don¡¯t know what half of those things are. Back home, we have sloppy joes, burgers, and hot dogs. That¡¯s dinner at the Train Car with Dad. ¡°It¡¯s really, really bad.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s bad?¡± I ask, wondering how my day can get any worse. I came into Burberry Prep this morning with high hopes, ready to take on the world. Right now, I feel like I¡¯m living a social apocalypse.


    ¡°The Idols, they¡¯ve dered war on you.¡± My mouth pops open, but I¡¯m not really sure what to say to that. How do you respond when someone tells you the richest, most popr kids at your school want you socially killed?


    ¡°All of them?¡± I ask, ncing over at therge table in the corner where Tristan, Creed, and Zayd sit next to Harper, Becky, and a girl who I can only assume is Gena Whitley. They aren¡¯t looking at me. Instead, they¡¯reughing and eating, drawing all of the energy out of the room. I have to admit, they¡¯ve got charisma, all six of them. Then again, Hitler had charisma, too, and look how that turned out.Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°All of them,¡± Miranda confirms, lifting her ss of ice water to her lips and ncing at the round table and all of its royalty. ¡°They don¡¯t want you here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, but I needn¡¯t have bothered. Miranda nces at me, but her face says it all: they don¡¯t want me here because I grew up in a neighborhood of trailers and mobile homes, because I lived in an old train


    car most of my life, because I don¡¯t have a worth or a family legacy. ¡°What am I supposed to do about that? I was thinking about reporting Tristan and Zayd to the administration. There¡¯s an anti-bullying policy that I read about in the student handbook-¡±


    Miranda¡¯s look stops me dead in my tracks.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask, picking up my fork and poking at my fancy Greek-inspired chicken dish. It tastes ¡­ strange. Maybe my palette just isn¡¯t as refined as everyone else¡¯s? I wonder if I could ask the kitchen to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? ¡°Am I supposed to just let them get away with their bullshit?¡± My eyes wander back to the table again and I catch Creed staring at me. His blue eyes narrow, and he reaches up to brush some blond hair back from his forehead. If it¡¯s possible to arrogantly brush hair from one¡¯s face, he manages it. Zayd and Tristan notice him looking my way, and soon all three Idols are ring at me.


    Fantastic.


    At my old school, I saw the effects of bullying firsthand; I felt them. I felt them in ways I can never forget, never erase. My heart begins to thunder in my chest, and my palms grow so sweaty I have to put down my fork.


    I nce back at Miranda.


    ¡°If you report them, that¡¯s it,¡± she says, exhaling sharply. Her eyes stray over to the Idols¡¯ table again, watching as Andrew approaches and starts up a conversation with Tristan. ¡°They will end you.¡±


    My mouth ttens into a thin line, but I don¡¯t doubt that what Miranda¡¯s telling me is true. These kids, they have more money than the GDP of a small country. Shit, than several small countries Fombined. If I think that has no influence over the administration and staff, then I haven¡¯t learned as many hard life lessons as I think.


    Closing my eyes, I sit stone-still for a moment, thinking. There has to be a way out of this; there¡¯s always a way out if you know how to be patient and look. For the moment, I¡¯m drawing a nk, but give me time, and I¡¯ll work it out.


    There¡¯s a reason I got chosen for this schrship, and it wasn¡¯t my ability to roll over and take it.


    No, I¡¯m a fighter, always have been.


    I just think I¡¯m going to have to fight h


    arder than I ever have before.

 11

    As my first week at Burberry Prep progresses, it seems like the Idols have forgotten about me.


    I know in my gut that¡¯s not true.


    Bullies don¡¯t quit until circumstances force them to. It¡¯s the nature of the beast, and humans are the worst animal of all. Smart enough to manipte, stupid enough to care. My mind flickers with images best left forgotten: ribbons of silken red, the smell of wet pennies, peaceful ckness closing in. Running my tongue across my lower lip, I double check my schedule. The first and third Friday of the month I have my Monday schedule; the second and fourth Friday I have my Tuesday schedule. Thest Friday-if there is


    one-is a day off.


    Period 3: Government, History, and CiviFs, Room CH3


    The CH in CH3 stands for chapel, meaning the ssrooms located in the building attached to the old chapel. Miranda disappeared during the second half of lunch, but I think I know my way around now. Following the maze of hallways, I slip unnoticed by the other students-the Plebs, as they¡¯re supposedly called-enjoying my anonymity. Only the Idols and their Inner Circle look at me sideways. Nobody else cares.


    I pass unscathed into the ssroom, breathing a sigh of relief as I slide into the chair in the back corner. Tristan Vanderbilt is the only member of the Bluebloods-their term, not mine-that shares this ss with me and Miranda. He nces up when I walk in, his de gray eyes slicing through


    me before he returns his attention to the short, raven-haired girl in front of him.


    In the past week, I¡¯ve seen him with a good dozen different girls, flirting and smiling and leaning in close. Even when the guy¡¯s trying to getid, that arrogance of his sits like a mask over his handsome face. He never seems to let his guard down, or show any emotion that isn¡¯t tainted with superiority and entitlement.


    Just looking at the jerk makes me sick to my stomach.


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯mte,¡± Miranda breathes, sliding into the chair next to me. Her eyes flick up to Tristan, and he meets her gaze dead-on before returning his attention back to his newest conquest. Miranda¡¯s cheeks burn pink, and I raise an eyebrow.


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. You¡¯ve sat with me during every ss and every lunch period for the entire week. You¡¯re not going to get, like, put on probation by the Bluebloods for that, are you?¡±


    Miranda pulls her iPad out of her bag and sets it on the desk. The tech policy here is crazy strict, so all theptops and tablets are school-issued and locked down on a privatework. It¡¯s insane. I miss my phone like crazy, but today after school, I get it back for the weekend.


    Even a digital escape from Burberry Prep sounds like heaven right about now.


    ¡°No. I mean, I don¡¯t think so since Creed is my brother ¡­¡± Miranda trails off, and exhales, swiping her hand across her forehead before tossing a genuine smile my way. ¡°I know he¡¯s been a royal prick to you, but he¡¯s pretty overprotective when ites to me. Once, back in middle school, this guy stood me up for a date, and Creed held me while I cried. After I fell asleep though, he went over to the boy¡¯s house and punched him.¡± Her smile gets a little wider, and I smile back.


    That is, until I realize that Tristan¡¯s standing directly in front of my desk, this enormous shadow copsing the good-natured humor of the moment. I re up at him in challenge. I¡¯m not afraid of anyone, not even billionaire boys like Tristan Vanderbilt.


    ¡°Party tonight, Mandy,¡± he says, his face a cold, cruel mask. ¡°You gonna be there?¡±


    ¡°Is Marnye invited?¡± Miranda echoes, and although I appreciate her trying to stand up for me, I cringe on the inside. Tristan lets his eyes swing over to


    me, his gaze darkening with distaste. He really and truly seems to hate me, and I can¡¯t seem to figure out why.


    ¡°There¡¯ll be enough willing girls at the party; we don¡¯t need Working Girls there, too.¡± His delivery is ice-cold, and somehow, that makes his hatred of me even worse. It¡¯s a cold, empty loathing that settles across my skin like salty fog off a quiet sea.


    ¡°She¡¯s my friend, Tristan,¡± Miranda says, but he¡¯s already turning away, dismissing the conversation before it¡¯s even begun. With a sigh, she turns back to me. ¡°If you want to go to the party, Marnye, we¡¯ll find a way to make it work.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to,¡± I say, watching Tristan¡¯s back as he makes his way over to the dark-haired girl again. ¡°Go, I mean. I don¡¯t want to go.¡± My eyes flick over to Miranda, watching as she settles into her seat with her iPad on herp. ¡°Watching that guy hit on every avable girl at the party, not my thing.¡±Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The parties here are epic though,¡± Miranda says, lifting her eyes up from the screen as our professor calls for the ss¡¯ attention. She¡¯s talking to me, but she¡¯s distracted. I may not have known her for long, but I can already tell. ¡°You can¡¯t go through your entire high school career without going to any. I¡¯ll talk to Creed after ss.¡±


    I open my mouth to tell her not to bother, but ss has already started, and if there¡¯s one thing I do know about my career at Burberry Prep, it¡¯s that my grades are more important than any party, any bullshit from entitled rich boys. But if Miranda wants to try to get me in, I¡¯ll go, if only for the experience.


    And what an experience it turns out to be.


    My new apartment is located on the bottom floor of the chapel building, as opposed to Tower Three like all the rest of the students. While they enjoy penthouses and sprawling studios with views of the ocean, I¡¯m ced in the old janitor¡¯s quarters. Doesn¡¯t bother me. Honestly, the one bedroom, one bath space is twice asrge as the Train Car back home.


    ¡°Spoiled rich brats,¡± I mumble, flopping onto the edge of my bed and putting my face in my hands. Walking these halls is like running a gauntlet; I¡¯ve never been so exhausted in all my life. ¡°I would¡¯ve been fine with a regr sized dorm.¡± Throwing my arm across my eyes, I take a breather before sitting up and turning my phone on.


    Every Friday after third period, the entire student body gets their phones backs. Until then, phones are banned on campus. If anyone needs to make a call, they¡¯re required to check in with the vice principal. Burberry Prep is hardcore. Supposedly, taking away technology helps students focus on their studies and cuts down on bullying. I¡¯d say sure on the first premise ¡­ and most d


    efinitely not on the second.

 12

    Sitting up, I cast a nce around my new apartment. All the furniture, including the bed, was purchased via the schrship fund, and while I¡¯m sure it¡¯s a far cry from what my fellow students have in their rooms, it looks like luxury to me.


    My headboard¡¯s almost as tall as the ceiling, thisvishly tufted white velvet arch with crystal sconces on either side. It sets the tone for the whole room, this effortless elegance in creams and grays, draped across the ancient stone floors and walls with an expert¡¯s touch.


    ¡°Okay, Dad, let¡¯s see how much trouble you¡¯ve managed to get yourself into during the week.¡± Powering my phone on, I do a brief check of my email, texts, and social media, but there¡¯s not much to see. A few goodbyes, and greetings from casual acquaintances, but nothing substantial. I haven¡¯t had any real friends since ¡­


    No. Banish that thought. I¡¯m not interested in entertaining shadows of the past, not when I have a fairly grim present to deal with.


    I dial up my voicemail and wait, smiling when my dad¡¯s voicees over the line.


    ¡°Hey Marnye, it¡¯s Dad¡±-as if I didn¡¯t know-¡°I just wanted to see how things were going at your new sFhool.¡± He pauses, and I tense up, wondering if his voice sounds warbled, wondering if he¡¯s drunk again. ¡°I bet you¡¯re making all sorts of friends. I just hope you don¡¯t have a boyfriend yet, though I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already gotten offers.¡± He chuckles, but I frown. Offers? Not so much. Being called a Working Girl and offered money for sex? Yeah, there¡¯s that. ¡°I¡¯m already looking forward to Parents¡¯ Weekend. Until then, keep me in your thoughts. Love you, bye.¡±


    I¡¯m feeling pretty good about leaving Dad alone until I realize that¡¯s the only message he¡¯s left me. Just one voicemail, no texts, no social media tags. My mouth purses into a thin line as I dial our home number and wait. Nothing.


    If he¡¯s fallen back into old habits, Dad¡¯ll be at the bar on Chambers. But that¡¯s worst-case scenario. I shoot a text over to our old neighbor, Mrs. Fleming, to see if his car¡¯s in the driveway. She¡¯s practically deaf, so she¡¯s the only ny-seven year old I know of that exclusively uses text messages formunication. She¡¯s also an incorrigible gossip, a Supernatural superfan, and the head of the local neighborhood watch.


    When she doesn¡¯t text back right away, I figure she¡¯s probably on one of her Sam and Dean binge sessions, and head over to my new wardrobe in the corner, this towering antique piece with fleur-de-lis designs carved into the decorative arch on the top. Opening it, I get a sharp stab from the de of reality.


    During school hours, everyone wears their uniforms.


    At a weekend party, nobody will be wearing them, and my twenty dor Target dress will stand out like a sore thumb. That is, if Miranda even finds a way to get me an invite.


    As I¡¯m thumbing through my meager collection of thrift store, Walmart, and garage sale finds, there¡¯s a knock at the door. With no small amount of caution, I move over to open it. If it¡¯s anyone but Miranda, I¡¯m leaving it bolted.


    But when I peek through the peephole, I find Miranda grinning and waving, holding a dress in one arm and a shoebox in the other. I open it, and she bounces in, grinning from ear to ear.


    ¡°I got them to agree,¡± she says, breathless from sprinting over here from her shared apartment with Creed. They have a two bedroom with a balcony that Miranda promises I can see someday, but which I don¡¯t think I ever will seeing as her brother hates my guts. ¡°Well, I got Creed to agree, and that¡¯s all we need.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± I say as she tosses the dress on the bed, and I see that it¡¯s an expensive, tight-fitting little ck number that I wouldn¡¯t be caught dead in. I¡¯m sure Miranda will have no trouble pulling it off though. ¡°Your brother really does have a soft spot for you, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll have a soft spot for you, too, when he sees you in this dress,¡± she says, smirking and popping out a hip. For a moment, the expression reminds


    me of her twin, and I get goose bumps. ¡°And these shoes.¡± Miranda points a long, shiny fingernail at the box.


    I can¡¯t miss thebel printed on the top.


    ¡°Manolo hnik?¡± I choke out, and then my eyes flick to the dress again. ¡°And I don¡¯t care what designer made that dress; I won¡¯t fit into it.¡±


    Miranda rolls her eyes like I¡¯m a crazy person, and then slides a bottle of champagne out from under the dress that I didn¡¯t see before. ¡°You¡¯re being too hard on yourself. Let me dress you up while we pre-drink, and we¡¯ll have an epic party. This is the first weekend of our freshmen year; we have to live this up.¡± She pops the champagne, and the cork flies up and hits the ceiling, making us bothugh. Me, with nervousness. Her, with her usual good cheer.


    ¡°So is Creed like the Yang to your Yin?¡± I ask as Miranda opens the clear stic of the garment bag, revealing two little ck dresses instead of one. And I¡¯d thought there was little fabric to be had to begin with. Now there¡¯s even less.


    ¡°He¡¯s ¡­plicated,¡± she starts as she moves into the kitchte, opening the frosted ss cab door and pulling out two crystal cups. There aren¡¯t any champagne flutes, but that¡¯s not particrly surprising considering we¡¯re several years off from being able to legally drink. ¡°You can¡¯t let him get to you. He¡¯s just ¡­ he¡¯s so concerned at being ¡®new money¡¯ that he ovepensates.¡± Miranda pours a generous ss of champagne for each of us, handing one over to me.


    If I get caught drinking, I could be kicked out of the academy- permanently.


    At the same time, I don¡¯t want to spit on Miranda¡¯s goodwill. I wait for her to move into the bathroom and flick on the lights before I quickly empty my ss into the sink.


    ¡°They redid this whole ce, huh?¡± she asks as I step in behind her, taking in the deep tub, the stand-up shower, and the windows overlooking the park-like courtyard behind the church. They each have a set of handy wooden blinds that block out all the light, but they¡¯re open now, showing off the dusky evening sky.


    ¡°This is basically a pce to me,¡± I say with a smile, a flitter of nervous energy taking over my belly when I see the amount of makeup that Miranda¡¯s stuffed into her purse. She unloads it onto the burnished goldN?velDrama.Org content.


    stone of the countertop, and then turns to look at me with a critical eye. ¡°What?¡± I ask, suddenly wary, and Miranda grins at me.


    ¡°How do you feel about curls?¡± she asks, reaching out to y with my hair. I look past her and into the mirror, locked into my own brown-eyed gaze. My lips are too thin, my chin too pointed, my nose too big. At least those judgements are my own. The things they used to say to me back home rarely had anything to do with my appearance. Mostly, they attacked my character.


    ¡°Curls are great,¡± I say, trying to force a smile. On the inside, I¡¯m wondering if there¡¯s anything I could wear or do that would make a difference tonight. I imagine not. Because on the inside, I¡¯ll still be poor.

 13

    At the end of the night, I still won¡¯t own a private jet or a series of inds in the fucking Caribbean. ¡°Do whatever you want; I¡¯m no good at hair or makeup.¡±


    Miranda lets out a small sound of excitement, downs her champagne, and pours us both another round.


    I wish I could drink it.


    I have a feeling I¡¯m going to need it to get through tonight.


    The walk down to the beach is easy, lined with sr-powerednterns that give the winding, pebbled walkway a warm yellow glow. Picking my way down in the stilettos that Miranda brought me is no easy feat, and I¡¯m sure I look like I¡¯m already drunk by the time we get to the bonfire.


    Doesn¡¯t matter, I suppose, since it looks like everyone else here already is. ¡°Mandy!¡± this redheaded girl calls out, waving her arms like she¡¯s on crack. At my old school, she might have been. Here ¡­ she still could be. Instead, she stumbles over to Miranda with her heels hanging from one hand, the distinctive red bottoms of the Louboutins obvious even in the flickering orange light from the bonfire. The bottoms are scuffed and the shoes are wet and covered in sand. Without a second thought, the girl chucks them into a pile of other expensive designer shoes, like they¡¯re Walmart flip-flops or


    something. ¡°I¡¯m so d you¡¯re here. Tristan was asking about you.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Miranda says, biting her bottom lip and ncing over at me. She seems nervous about something, but I¡¯m not about to ask what it is with the redhead standing next to us. I know I¡¯m supposed to know her name, but even though I¡¯ve memorized the entire list of Bluebloods, I can¡¯t remember exactly which one she is. Inner Circle, for sure. Anna, maybe? Or Abigail? ¡°I¡¯ll talk to himter. For now, point us in the direction of the drinks?¡±


    The redhead is too drunk to care about me, or maybe she just doesn¡¯t recognize me with a headful of big, chocte curls, and a designer dress. She points us over to a table that¡¯s been hastily piled with ss bottles and cups. There isn¡¯t any hired help here tonight, and it¡¯s starting to look like a rich teen party is much the same as a poor teen party, just with much better alcohol.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make us some drinks,¡± Miranda says, dragging me toward the table by my wrist. She lets go and starts to put together some concoction while I stand there and fidget, my eyes searching the beach for potential predators. After all, I¡¯m used to being hunted.


    My borrowed outfit is far too tight and too short to befortable, and I find myself tugging the fabric down in the front. I don¡¯t feel right in it, like I¡¯m ying the part of somebody else, somebody who wears bodycon dresses and Manolo hniks, and parties with the children of the ultra- wealthy.


    ¡°Wow. Looks like you¡¯ve already taken my advice,¡± a voice drawls from behind me, raspy and husky and sexy. The sound of it gives me chills in the best way possible, but when I turn around, I find Zayd Kaiser standing there in a pair of ck swim shorts, sans shirt and shoes, his body ripped and muscr, all of those hard nes catching the red and orange light from the bonfire.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I ask, my heart hammering as I take in his sea green hair and emerald eyes. He¡¯s got more tattoos than I thought, including that chest piece I glimpsed on Monday. It¡¯s hard to tell what it is in the half-light, but I¡¯m not about to take a step closer and find out. Already, I¡¯m on edge and waiting for an attack. If I were the Marnye Reed from middle school, I would probably crumble at just the sight of Zayd. His eyes are narrowed to slits, and his mouth is just a cruel sh on his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re dressed like a Working Girl now. Good for you. But I¡¯d still like to get a price. How much for a fuck?¡± My cheeks heat, and my nostrils re, but I¡¯m not going to lose my cool, not over something so pointless. Still, IContentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    can¡¯t help the twisting anxiety in my stomach, the embarrassment creeping its way up the back of my neck.


    ¡°Having sports cars and private jets and mansions isn¡¯t enough? You have to add a little cruelty into the mix, too?¡± I ask, but Zayd¡¯s already circling me, his eyes taking in my every curve. My dress feels too short, too tight, the neckline too low, but I stand there with my back straight, waiting for him to lose interest and go the hell away. I¡¯m stronger now, because of what I¡¯ve been through, but I¡¯m not invincible. I still want to believe there¡¯s good in the world. Zayd is working really damn hard to make sure that I change my mind about that.


    He smiles at me, stepping so close that I can smell the salt on his skin, see the hickeys on his neck.


    ¡°Why are you still here? We¡¯ve been nice this week, but it won¡¯tst. Starting Monday, you¡¯re going to be really sorry you haven¡¯t gone crawling back to whatever shithole suburb you crawled out of.¡±


    ¡°Zayd, screw off,¡± Miranda says, appearing at my side before I can respond. I¡¯m so mad, maybe that¡¯s for the best. Who knows what might escape my mouth right now. ¡°Creed invited her tonight.¡±


    ¡°Did he, really?¡± Zayd asks, and if possible, his scowl gets even more intense. His green eyes lock with mine, but I refuse to look away. At the very least, I can do this, hold his gaze. ¡°Idiot. He¡¯s going to get himself in trouble trying to appease your every whim.¡± Zayd pauses as several busty brtes hop up to him, grabbing him by his surprisingly muscr arms. ¡°Fine. Keep your pet peasant for the night. Just remember: there¡¯s a ss system for a reason. Some people belong on the bottom.¡±


    Zayd turns away with his two new girlfriends, smiling at them in a way that¡¯s not entirely different from the way he was smiling at me. He¡¯s just not a very good person.

 14

    ¡°Forget him,¡± Miranda says, shoving a Solo cup at me. Wow. Solo cups, the universal key to getting drunk, no matter what socio-economic ss. ¡°Have a drink, and let¡¯s go dip our feet in the water.¡± She slips her designer heels off and chucks them next to the table, much the same way as that redheaded girl. Even Miranda, as nice as she is, has no idea the level of privilege she exists in. The price of those shoes could feed and house a family in Lower Banks for an entire month. Maybe more. No, no, definitely more.


    Forcing a smile to my face, I follow after her, noticing that Creed is lounging in the sand near the bonfire with a captive audience. His eyes meet mine from across the beach, but there¡¯s no hatred there. There¡¯s not even aFknowledgement. Like, I¡¯m so far below him, he doesn¡¯t even feel the need to admit to my existence.


    At least I don¡¯t see Tristan anywhere, I think, exhaling a small sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that relief doesn¡¯tst long because Harper, Becky, and Gena are watching us, topless. Yep. Standing topless in the waves and studying us with eyes that glitter like obsidian in the dark. I pretend to lift my drink to my lips, so I can have a moment of staring into the cup instead of their eyes.


    ¡°Try to enjoy yourself tonight,¡± Miranda says, giving me a friendly elbow bump as we walk along the wet sand and away from the Idol girls. Idols. What a pretentious title. Who started that tradition, I wonder. ¡°Creed said you could be here; they¡¯ll leave you alone for now.¡±


    Miranda¡¯s really trying, so I force myself to stay positive.


    ¡°Thank you, and you¡¯re right. This is the first party of the year. And really, it¡¯s beautiful out here.¡± I wait for her to turn away and then pour my drink out in the water, enjoying the surprisingly warm waves and the moonlight on the horizon.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    We spend most of the night chatting and walking along the shore, a little bit of it dancing next to the bonfire. After a little while, Andrew joins us, and even though he¡¯s in the Inner Circle and supposed to treat me like I¡¯ve got the gue, he dances with Miranda and me both, until we¡¯re sweaty andughing, and I¡¯ve forgotten that my dress keeps riding up my ass crack.


    Close to midnight we make our way back to the school, and Miranda and I part with a hug outside the chapel. It¡¯s easier for her to get back to Tower Three by taking the path that winds between the buildings. So, with my borrowed shoes in hand, I make my way barefoot down the stone halls, only to pause when I see Ms. Felton and the Vice Principal, Mr. Castor, standing in front of my door.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he says, voice and face grim. ¡°We need to have a serious talk with you.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡± I ask, seeing my dreams at Burberry Prep go up in smoke before they¡¯ve even really begun. I can¡¯t go back to Lower Banks High with its crumbling gymnasium, dinosaur-ageputers, and outdated textbooks. Not after I worked so freaking hard to be here.


    ¡°We had several people call the emergency line saying they¡¯d seen you drinking heavily.¡± My mouth pops open, and this wave of injustice surges through me. What the hell?! Me, drinking? I was the only person not drunk at that party.


    Wow.


    So ¡­ it¡¯s not cool for me to report Zayd and Tristan to the administration, but they can report me all they want?


    ¡°I ¡­¡± Words escape me. I¡¯m so blown away by the usation that I have no idea how to respond. Crudeugher sounds at the end of the hall, and I turn to see a group of students watching me, still dressed in their bathing suits. Creed is among them, leaning against the wall in a deceptively casual pose, but it¡¯s all there in his eyes: the reflection of my doom.


    I turn back to Ms. Felton and Mr. Castor. In the vice principal¡¯s hand, I see a device that I well recognize: it¡¯s a breathalyzer. Because of my dad¡¯s issues, I know them well. He used to have to breathe into one to start his car. There were a lot of mornings when I was in elementary school where it didn¡¯t start at all. I love my dad, but he spent a lot of my life fucking things up for both of us.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to ask you to breathe into this,¡± Mr. Castor says, his voice hard but not unkind. Ms. Felton doesn¡¯t say anything, arms crossed over her suit. I¡¯m surprised to see her all dressed up still, considering the hour. Mr. Castor¡¯s wearing gray sweats and a clean but oversized white tee.


    My eyes water so bad that I have to close them to keep the tears from falling. It may not seem like that big of a deal. I mean, just breathe in and show the world that I¡¯m not drunk. But ¡­ I¡¯m doing everything I can to not end up like my mom and dad. There was this one time when I was seven that both my parents were so drunk that I thought they were dead, lyingatose on the carpet in the Train Car. We didn¡¯t have a phone at the time, so I walked almost two miles to the convenience store to ask the clerk to call 911.


    Being used like this ¡­ it¡¯s devastating.


    I nod, and Mr. Castor hands over the breathalyzer, waiting for me to exhale into it.


    When I¡¯m done, I hand it back to him and he watches the lights on the front side. Zero. My blood alcohol level is zero. Mr. Castor¡¯s face flushes, and he hands the breathalyzer over to Ms. Felton.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye, but with as many usations as we received, we had to look into it.¡± I nod and nce back down the hallway to see Creed staring at me with slightly widened eyes. The other students are whispering behind their hands, eyes narrowed to slits, venom in their res. But Creed, he looks pissed, like I¡¯vemitted a grievous personal attack against him.


    I turn back to the teachers and force a smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s no problem,¡± I say, and then I use my key to let myself into the a


    partment ¡­ and cry.

 15

    By the time Monday rolls around again, I¡¯m thoroughly exhausted. I spent all weekend trying to get a hold of my dad, and fending off Miranda¡¯s attempts to get me to go out again. Instead, I convinced her to stay in on Saturday and watch movies. Sunday, she texted to let me know that she wasn¡¯t feeling well and wanted to sleep in.


    But even as I¡¯m looking for trouble around every corner, nothinges.


    That¡¯s a form of mental torture right there, expecting all these horrible things, a low-grade anxiety humming through me. The sses, at least, are challenging, more so than I expected. I end up spending most every night that week in the five story library, studying my ass off. The librarians are pretty much book Nazis, so I feel safe in there. Even the Idols can¡¯t touch me in their domain.


    Thursday, I scoot into my seat in art ss, right next to Miranda, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. Our assignment fromst week was to create an abstract piece of media that represented our favorite painting, song, book, poem, or dance. Thinking creatively doesn¡¯te easily to me. You¡¯d think growing up the way I did that I would¡¯ve wanted to escape into a made-up world. While I was an avid reader, I was also overly practical. As much as I enjoy a good novel or movie or game, I also knew that the only way to change my situation was to fight in the real world. Banishing dragons with magic des is great, but it wouldn¡¯t get me out of Lower Banks. It wouldn¡¯t get me into a good college. It wouldn¡¯t get me a high-paying job.


    So I really struggled with the assignment, settling on J. K. Rowling¡¯s The Tales of Beedle the Bard as my inspiration. One of my favorite childhood memories is of sitting on my bed with both Mom and Dad, neither of them drunk, taking turns reading that book to me. No matter how horrible things got, I had that moment to hold onto.


    We don¡¯t just have one art teacher at Burberry Prep, we have three. They each have their own specialties, and their impressive lists of aplishments and awards. I¡¯ve decided I like Mrs. Amberton best. The way her eyes sparkle when she talks about creative writing makes me wish I could find my own passion. I mean, I did okay with my schrship essay, but that was all real pain pouring out of me, my entire life story in similes and metaphors. It was so personal that when I wrote it, I cried the whole time. Knowing Miranda¡¯s read it, too, is a weird feeling, but even though we haven¡¯t known each other long, I trust her.


    Maybe that¡¯s a mistake, but ¡­ it¡¯s mine to make, I guess.


    ¡°Public speaking can be an art, in and of itself,¡± Ms. Hignd says, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her clothes are yful, but her sses, makeup, and hairdos are anything but. It makes me wonder what¡¯s going on inside of her, that she should be so controlled and so open all at the same time. ¡°And it¡¯s important in most anything you might think to do with your future. So for today, you¡¯ll be presenting your projects in front of the ss-in random order.¡±N?velDrama.Org content.


    There¡¯s a chorus of groans, and I feel my heart start to pound. Presenting to an audience, I¡¯m okay with. Presenting to Harper, Becky, Zayd, and Tristan ¡­ not so much. The four of them sit in the back of the ss, not quite together but not far apart either. I¡¯m getting the idea that the three Idol boys don¡¯t much like each other.


    Mr. Carter uses his iPad to select a student from the ss to go first.


    And, because I have the worst luck known to man, that student ends up being me.


    ¡°Marnye Reed,¡± he calls, and I let out a sharp breath. I can feel the eyes of every student in that room swing toward me. It¡¯s not a good feeling.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go Working Girl!¡± one of the girls shouts, and cruelughter breaks out around the room. I ignore it, taking my art up to the front of the multi- tiered lecture hall. I decided on resin and acrylic, creating this mirror like surface of rainbow colors on the square canvas.


    ¡°Miss Fanning, that¡¯s quite enough, thank you,¡± Mrs. Amberton says, her voice hardening. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever heard her snap quite like that, and I hold back a small smile. It¡¯s nice to feel like I have a member of staff on my side. ¡°Beautiful piece,¡± she adds, moving to the side to give me the stage. I return her genuine smile and prop the art on the waiting easel.


    ¡°You fucking suck!¡± some guy shouts, but I ignore him. If there¡¯s anything I¡¯m good at, it¡¯s school. This is where I shine. If I could, I¡¯d be a professional student for the rest of my life. Taking a deep breath, I turn and face the ss. My eyes catch on Tristan¡¯s gray re and sharp frown before sliding over to Zayd¡¯s emerald green irises and derisive smirk. I won¡¯t let anyone beat me down, not ever again.


    ¡°My inspiration for this piecees from J. K. Rowling¡¯s The Tales of Beedle the Bard,¡± I start, projecting my voice toward the audience. I had to do this to win the Cabot Schrship Award, too, give a speech. What makes this any different? The thing is, I¡¯m definitely not going to be spilling my guts to the Burberry Prep students. No way in hell. ¡°As a child, it was not only my favorite book, but it also gave me my favorite memory. That¡¯s something I¡¯ll forever be grateful for.¡± Pausing, I run my fingers over the shiny surface of the canvas, marveling at the colors. It wasn¡¯t easy to get the effect I was looking for, this rainbow byage that fades from violet at the top to red at the bottom.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a faggot g?¡± the asshole guy asks, the one who shouted at me. ¡°Did you make a frigging Pride g for art?¡± Theughter that follows his statement is dark and threaded with violence, a sound that¡¯s echoed in the chuckles of those around him. Zayd and Tristan aren¡¯tughing, but they seem to be enjoying my pain, letting their followers do the dirty work for them.


    ¡°Mr. Hannibal, would you like to go to the office with me and discuss your treatment of LGBTQ individuals?¡± Mrs. Amberton¡¯s lips are pursed, and the way she looks at John Hannibal is less than pleasant. He¡¯s in the Inner Circle, that much I have memorized. Know thy enemies and all that.


    ¡°Go ahead and take me in. You know my father¡¯s stance on that stuff.¡± Mrs. Amberton frowns, but she doesn¡¯t say anything else. I decide then that even if I do like her, she isn¡¯t strong enough to protect me in here. John Hannibal¡¯s father is a conservative senator from Tennessee, and built his tform on keeping gay marriage off the books in his state. Of course, that¡¯s


    null and void now with the Supreme Court ruling, but I¡¯d bet my life that his views have rem


    ained much the same.

 16

    ¡°The warm memories from that time in my life have filtered through a child¡¯s mind and turned into a prism of color,¡± I continue, feeling my palms start to get sweaty. I can feel the eyes of the Idols on me, especially Tristan and Zayd. Thetter has one brow raised, his tattooed fingers tapping a rhythm out on the arm of his seat. The former ¡­ he¡¯s got a slight quirk to one edge of his mouth now, like he¡¯s just thought of something horrible to do to me. ¡°Turning the words of that book, and the memories of that time, into a piece of dynamic art was a cathartic experience. I lived my best childhood memories with each and every stroke.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what she said,¡± Harper purrs, and the ss erupts withughter. Mrs. Amberton sighs heavily, but none of the teachers does a damn thing.


    ssism holds sway in every corner of the world, I guess. Not even art and academics are safe.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, leaving my piece on the stage and heading back to my seat. Nobody ps for me except Miranda and the teachers, all the more humiliating for the way it echoes in the giant lecture hall. Mr. Carter moves my piece aside, and calls the next name on his list.


    On my way back up the steps to my seat, someone puts their foot in the aisle and trips me. I go down so hard that my chin ms on the floor and my mouth fills with blood.


    I spend the rest of the day in the nurse¡¯s office with a migraine.


    When I get back to my dormter on that afternoon, there¡¯s a bunch of rainbow gs taped to my door, and a lesbian porno Blu-ray on the floor. I pick it up with a sigh, and pull all but the biggest g down, leaving it to hang proudly on my door. I¡¯m as straight as theye, but I¡¯m also a fierce ally. I have no problem letting my Pride g fly.


    The rest of the gs, I tuck into my nightstand drawer for safe keeping.


    If the students at Burberry Prep want to break me, they¡¯ll have to try much, much harder than that.


    ¡°This week wasn¡¯t so bad, right?¡± Miranda asks, sitting on the edge of the table in the library and kicking her legs. Her skirt is so short today that I can see that she¡¯s wearing a garter belt and thigh-highs instead of just tights like I¡¯d thought. I wonder about that, but I don¡¯t feel like we¡¯re good enough friends to ask. A part of me thinks she might be dating Tristan Vanderbilt, but it¡¯s such a horrible thought that I don¡¯t want to put words to it.


    ¡°If you call opening my locker and having rainbow condoms spill out not that bad, then you¡¯re right: it wasn¡¯t.¡± I lean in close to myptop, and squint at the screen, like I¡¯m super focused on the essay I¡¯m writing for government. Really, I¡¯m distracted as can be. While everyone else is excited that it¡¯s Friday again, I¡¯m dreading getting an invite from Miranda to attend whatever party happens to be on.


    She doesn¡¯t say anything, sipping an iced coffee that she swiped from the teacher¡¯s lounge.


    ¡°Eveningdies,¡± Andrew says, pausing next to our table. His eyesnd on mine and hold there, a smile taking over his mouth. I swallow hard and pretend to be so engrossed in my work that I can barely look away. Lie. I like the way he¡¯s staring at me, like he might actually be interested. ¡°What are you two up to tonight?¡±


    Miranda adjusts her skirt to cover the straps of her garter belt, raising an eyebrow at his question.


    ¡°If you¡¯re fishing and trying to find out whether we¡¯re attending Tristan¡¯s party, the answer is ¡­ it¡¯s up to Marnye.¡± Ah. So it¡¯s Tristan¡¯s party tonight. Based on the gossip Miranda¡¯s been feeding me, the bonfire thing was Zayd¡¯s idea. Guess it¡¯s true that the three Idol boys don¡¯t get along all that well. They take turns entertaining their loyal subjects.


    ¡°It¡¯s on his father¡¯s yacht,¡± Andrew adds with a shrug of his shoulders, like having a weekend party on a yacht is no big thing. ¡°Since it¡¯s parked in the harbor behind the school, we don¡¯t even need off-campus permits to go.¡± I lift my eyes to meet his again, a sparkling blue that matches his smile. When he lifts his fingers up and runs them through his chestnut hair, I almost smile for real. Andrew Payson really is pretty cute. ¡°If you don¡¯t have a date already, Marnye, I¡¯d love to take you. If you¡¯re with me, the others won¡¯t bother you.¡±


    ¡°As much as I appreciate the offer, I don¡¯t think my presence there would be appreciated.¡± Just the idea of lounging on Tristan¡¯s yacht makes me sick to my stomach. I gather up my books, and rise to my feet. I¡¯d rather walk


    back to my room with Miranda than risk going alone. Zayd promised me pain this week, and I have yet to see much of it.


    I imagine he¡¯s just waiting for the right time.


    ¡°If you¡¯re with me and Miranda,¡± Andrew starts, but I give him a look and he raises his hands in surrender. ¡°Promise: by the time we get there, Zayd will be too drunk to mess with you. Tristan will be on the top deck, surrounded by girls. And Creed ¡­¡± He nces over at Miranda and she gives me a sympathetic look. She knows what he did to me; everyone does. ¡°We¡¯ll just stick to drinking soda, and dancing. What do you say?¡± Andrew grins with those pearly whites of his, but all I really want to do is go back to my room and see if I can get ahold of my dad. I¡¯m starting to get worried.


    ¡°Oh,e on, Marnye,¡± Miranda pleads, putting her hands into a prayer position. ¡°I¡¯m not saying throw caution to the wind, but you¡¯re not going to let them win either, right?¡± Crap, she has a point. Sighing and nodding my head slightly sends Miranda into a squeal, and she wraps her arms around me, giving me a squeeze. ¡°You won¡¯t regret this,¡± she promises me, but I¡¯m already certain that I will.


    Tristan¡¯s yacht is like nothing I¡¯ve ever seen before. It has several tiers of decks, some with furniture, one with a hot tub, another where students are already in the midst of drunken dancing. Miranda tells me that The Idol cost over a hundred million dors to build custom, and my stomach feels sick with the level of excess. A hundred million dors for a boat? It¡¯s like a floating freaking pce.


    ¡°And naming it The Idol?¡± I start as we walk across the grass toward the dock. ¡°Is that because of Tristan?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Miranda says, giving me a sympathetic half-smile, ¡°that¡¯s because his great-grandfather started the Idol tradition here at Burberry Prep. All the Vanderbilts haveContentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    been Idols since.¡±


    Great.

 17

    So even Tristan¡¯s bullying has a legacy. That does not bode well for me.


    There are so many people already on the boat and the dock that I wonder if there¡¯s going to be anything more than standing room. My palms are sweaty as I swipe them down the front of my jeans. Wearing a fancy dress to thest party didn¡¯t do me any good, so this time I¡¯m dressed in my own clothes. At least when I¡¯m dressed like this, I know how to act, how to respond.


    ¡°This is not a good idea,¡± I groan as Andrew puts his arm through my left, and Miranda does the same on my right. They drag me through the crowd and onto the boat, locating a couch in the downstairs cabin that we can sit on. Drinks are passed around, but I don¡¯t touch a thing. Not that I¡¯d nned to, but this time, I don¡¯t even pretend.


    I was trying to fit in, and all it did was make me stand out. I think I¡¯ll stick to being myself for now.


    Miranda¡¯s already on her second ss of champagne, but it looks like Andrew is willing to go total teetotaler with me. He sees me looking his way and smiles; I smile back and take a sip of my cherry Coke.Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°So, are Idols supposed to date each other?¡± I ask as I see Harper du Pont leaning on some guy in a ck t-shirt and ripped jeans that I¡¯m damn near positive he bought pre-torn. I could recognize a pair of well-worn denim jeans anywhere, and those starched monstrosities are not it. ¡°Because I sort of see them ¡­ all over the ce.¡±


    ¡°Everybody knows year one is, like, the time to experiment,¡± Miranda says, her eyes wandering around the room and lingering on Tristan for a minute. There it is again, her strange obsession with him. They have to be dating, or at least sleeping together. Something. ¡°But everyone also knows that Harper and Tristan will get together at the end of the year.¡±


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± I ask, as Andrew adjusts himself on the cushions and leans back. He¡¯s still wearing his academy uniform, like several of the other guys. Most every girl in there is wearing a designer dress and heels of some sort. I think I might be the only one in jeans and sneakers.


    ¡°His family is old money, good breeding, wless reputation.¡± Miranda turns her ice-blue eyes over to me. For a moment there, I¡¯m reminded of Creed, staring at me down the length of the hallway, and I get the chills. ¡°Harper¡¯s grandfather is the one who brought the du Ponts into money, so rtively speaking, they¡¯re new on the scene.¡± She smiles and answers the question I¡¯m about to ask before I get a chance to voice it. ¡°If we weren¡¯t the richest family in this school, Creed and I would be Plebs for sure.¡± She


    waves her hand around dismissively, sloshing champagne onto her rhinestone studded nude dress. ¡°Harper¡¯s family wants the prestige of the Vanderbilts, and the Vanderbilts want the du Ponts¡¯ money. It¡¯s just simple economics.¡±


    ¡°How ¡­ romantic,¡± I hedge as my eyes wander back to Tristan, standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest. He¡¯s listening to some y-by-y from one of his friends, the edge of his lips curving up in a cocksure smile. His gray eyes turn my way, and I meet his gaze. It onlysts a second because a group of drunk girls stumbles between us, but it was enough. He knows I¡¯m here.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get more champagne,¡± Miranda deres, rising to her feet and stumbling a bit in her heels. I get the feeling she hasn¡¯t worn many pairs in the past. She flicks her blond hair over one shoulder, seeding only in tangling it around her long nails, and I grin. Like I said, she¡¯s too nice to be able to hair flip properly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll grab some more soda, before Greg uses it all for his rum and cokes,¡± I mumble with a roll of my eyes. ¡°You need anything?¡± Andrew shows off his nearly full cup, and I take off, weaving through the crowd and heading for the kitchte in the back half of the room.


    Creed is there, unfortunately, and his eyes narrow when he sees me.


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t the Working Girl,¡± he drawls, his fingers curved around the top of his cup. He swishes the alcohol around inside as he watches me. ¡°Come to work the party? There¡¯s a lot of money to be made here for a girl like you.¡±


    ¡°Your sister brought me,¡± I deadpan, grabbing a handful of ice from the bucket on the counter, and pouring soda over it. ¡°If you have a problem with that, take it up with her.¡±


    ¡°Miranda¡¯s always liked having pets,¡± Creed says, pushing off the fridge with his shoulder and dislodging the blonde on his arm. She pouts at him and gives me a death re, but I raise my eyebrows. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. ¡°She¡¯s too nice, always willing to overlook other people¡¯s ws.¡±


    ¡°Being poor is a w?¡± I ask, and Creed shrugs his shoulders. He¡¯s wearing his academy uniform, too, and in that samezy, elegant style I recognized on day one. His entire persona is based around not caring, even though it¡¯s obvious to me that he cares. Oh, he cares a whole hell of a lot.


    ¡°I hear Tristan brought a special gift tonight,¡± he continues, circling me like a predator would. I can feel it, too, the restrained violence in him. Creed


    Cabot really and truly hates me. I stay where I am, sipping my soda and watching him. My first instinct is to run, but where would I go? The crowd is thick around us, the heat from so many bodies cloying. He gets close to me, so close that his breath feathers against the back of my neck, and I stiffen up. ¡°A gift, just for you, Working Girl.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Andrew appears on my left, pushing through the well- dressed crowd. Creed looks him up and down, gives an arrogant little s


    mirk, and turns away.

 18

    The students move out of his way, giving him a clear path to the door. ¡°I was thinking maybe we could go, just me and you.¡± I look over at Andrew and find him with a strained smile on his handsome face. One of my brows goes up. ¡°We could walk on the beach instead.¡±


    ¡°Are you trying to get me off this boat, after working so hard to get me here?¡± I ask, this knot in my stomach tightening. Dread washes over me, and I know for a fact that I¡¯m about to get all the week¡¯s bullying in one, big dollop. At my old school, that would¡¯ve meant getting my ass kicked behind the science building.


    At Burberry Prep Academy, I have no idea what it means. And that scares the crap out of me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just go for a walk or something,¡± Andrew says, almost pleadingly, but then I notice the crowd is funneling out of the door and up the steps to the top deck. Even though I know I shouldn¡¯t, even though I know I¡¯m going to regret this ¡­ I follow after. ¡°Marnye, wait!¡±


    Andrew chases after me, but I¡¯m too far ahead, weaving between girls in Alexander McQueen and boys in Givenchy. It¡¯s like the crowd is parting for me, too, but for all the wrong reasons. Miranda¡¯s up top when I get there, red-faced and disheveled. She¡¯s looking at Tristan Vanderbilt with narrowed eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I choke out, and she startles, turning to look at me with wide eyes.


    ¡°Oh, look, Charity¡¯s here, everyone,¡± Tristan says, and he doesn¡¯t bother to raise his voice. It¡¯s low, and dark, as cool as the fog rolling in across the bay. ¡°I¡¯m d you could make it to the party tonight.¡± His smile, when he gives it, is about as warm as the ice in my cup. His dark hair is smooth and shiny, falling across his forehead in a way that makes my stomach clench, but his silver eyes are about as inviting as his smile.


    Zayd crows withughter from the corner, a brte snuggling up against his left side. He doesn¡¯t look at me, just tilts a bottle of what looks to be rum


    to his mouth and makes a joke about pirates that I can barely hear.


    Tristan, meanwhile, is busy unwrapping something from a cloth bundle that¡¯s sitting on the edge of the railing. The breath of the crowd is hushed, their excitement subdued. Every now and again, a pair of eyes flicks my way, and I feel them burning into my skin like mes. When Tristan gets the wrappings undone, I see that he¡¯s got a book in his hand.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t ever say we don¡¯t listen when you talk,¡± he continues, flipping the book around, so I can get a look at the cover. My heartrate picks up speed, and it¡¯s suddenly hard to breathe. Even without touching it, I can see what title he has in his hand. And even without asking, I know it¡¯s the real deal. ¡°Do you know what this is, Charity?¡±


    ¡°One of the seven hand-written copies of The Tales of Beedle the Bard by


    J. K. Rowling,¡± I whisper. I know I¡¯m ying right into their hands right now, but I can¡¯t seem to help myself. There are only seven total copies of that book in the world. Six were given to friends and family, and one was auctioned off for a charity benefit.


    Oh. Oh no.Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    No, no, no.


    ¡°That¡¯s right: a rare edition of your favorite book, the one that inspired you to make such ¡­ interesting art.¡± Tristan cracks the book open and peers inside, licking a finger before turning the page. ¡°We wanted to honor the working ss, and by proxy you, so we all chipped in our weekly allowances and bought it.¡± He lifts his gaze to mine and smirks, cruelty dripping from every pore. ¡°Three hundred and sixty thousand pounds-roughly four hundred and seventy-five US dors-and it was ours.¡± He snaps the book closed and turns fully to face me, bncing it in one hand while he gets a lighter out with the other.


    I¡¯m shaking now, sweat pouring down the sides of my face. My cup falls to the deck, and I start to move forward. Someone holds me back, and at first I think it¡¯s Miranda trying to prevent a fight, but then I realize it¡¯s actually a pair of Harper¡¯s closest cronies. They twist their arms around mine as the king of the Idols lifts the lighter to the first open page. My eyes dart around looking for allies, but both Miranda and Andrew are being held back. Creed stands near them, looking as if this is a boring but necessary little chore.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t. That book is a modern ssic. That¡¯s history in the making right there.¡± My words are choked; I sound strangled. What else am I


    supposed to say? Please don¡¯t destroy a priceless artifact to torment me? There are other, less destructive ways. Trust me: I¡¯ve been privy to a lot of them.


    Tristan ignores me, letting the mes lick the edge of the page until it starts to smoke and burn. He sets the book on the edge of the railing, watching as it¡¯s slowly consumed, twisted into kes of gray ash that scatter with the wind. Zayd saunters up beside it and lifts a white bottle of lighter fluid, making eye contact with me before he gives it a squeeze and sets the rest of the book up in a gush of heat.


    Tears trail down my cheeks, but I¡¯ve stopped struggling. It¡¯s toote now.


    The book is ruined.


    The crowd cheers as Tristan shoves the ming book over the edge and into the bay.


    When he moves up close to me, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to scream.


    ¡°I told you, Charity. This isn¡¯t the school for you. Consider this your final warning.¡±


    He stalks off, and finally, the two girls rx their grips enough for me to tear away.


    ¡°Marnye, wait!¡± Miranda calls out as I shove my way through the snickering crowd, down the steps, and across the dock. I start running, and I don¡¯t stop until I¡¯m safely back in my dorm.


    Guess this is where I¡¯ll be spending the rest of the year, miserable and alone.


    It¡¯s not a good feeling.

 19

    For the next several weeks, it seems the Idols are content to watch and wait. But if they think they¡¯ve beaten me that easily, they¡¯ve got another thinging. At Lower Banks Middle School, a stunt like that would¡¯ve been met with closed fists and blood spatter. I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m going to start a full-on brawl with the Idols (surely the cowards would gang up on me, and I¡¯d lose), but watching that book burn, while upsetting, was not the final nail in my coffin.


    ¡°Parents¡¯ Week starts on Monday,¡± Miranda says, settling beside me in the ¡®cafeteria¡¯. Not exactly the best descriptor for this ce. That word denotes red stic trays, pizza on paper tes, and long lines. This is ¡­ nicer than the nicest restaurant I¡¯ve ever been to. The sign outside says ¡®Dining Area¡¯, but the students here just call it The Mess. ¡°Are yoursing?¡±


    I take a bite of my pasta, and try not to wonder how much this te cost the schrship fund.


    ¡°My dad should be here,¡± I hedge, trying to decide how best to describe my mom. The full truth is too hard to say aloud; it cuts like a knife, and I¡¯m already bleeding from the scene on the yacht. ¡°My mom ¡­ remarried and moved.¡± Yeah, aFross town. From the trailer park to a mansion. ¡°She lives in Grenadine Heights actually, with my sister.¡±


    ¡°You have a sister?¡± Miranda asks, her glossy pink lips parting in surprise. ¡°Would I know her?¡± I shrug my shoulders in response because thest thing


    I want to say is: maybe, but I don¡¯t. ¡°And how did I not know you had a sister?¡± she continues when I stuff my mouth with more pasta.


    As Miranda frowns at me, Andrew stops by our table and pulls up an extra chair. Pretty sure he and Miranda have been getting into trouble for hanging around with me, and yet, they still do. I¡¯m starting to wonder if I might actually be making real friends with the pair of them.


    ¡°You have a sister?¡± he repeats as I sigh and swallow my food, picking up my water ss and staring at the clinking ice cubes.


    ¡°Her name¡¯s Isabe. But she¡¯s three years younger than us. She just started sixth grade at Grenadine Heights Middle School.¡± I take a drink of my water and hope this story ends here. Now I¡¯m kicking myself for bringing my mom up at all. See what I mean? I¡¯ve already got that tight, sick feeling in my stomach.


    ¡°Isabe Carmichael?¡± Miranda asks, and I feel that tight feeling get even tighter, like a knot with a chokehold around my stomach. ¡°Yeah, I remember her. I think I had her in one of my art groups, like when they pair older kids up with younger ones.¡± She shrugs and raises a perfectly arched blond brow at me. ¡°I still don¡¯t know how I¡¯ve been friends with you for weeks and haven¡¯t heard about your sister.¡±


    ¡°Maybe because I¡¯ve never met her?¡± I blurt out, and both Andrew and Miranda share a look. Standing abruptly, I turn and m into the firm body of Creed Cabot. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and my skin burns, even through the fabric of my ck academy jacket. He scoots me back a space, and turns his attention to his sister.


    My gaze lifts to his cold, cruel face, his porcin skin and angelic hair. And those eyes of his, like chips of ice, blue but cold as winter. His heavy lidded expression makes him look bored and tired, like at any moment he might just lie down and take a nap like a cat.


    ¡°Tristan wanted me to talk to you about something,¡± he says, his voice cocksure and drawling, like it¡¯d be too much to speak up or enunciate. For a split-second, I think he¡¯s talking to me which is just stupid because, like, why would he be? He¡¯s staring at his sister, but he hasn¡¯t bothered to take a step back from me. We¡¯re so close that if I were to breathe in deep, my breasts would brush up against the slightly rumpled fabric of his white shirt. ¡°Do you have a second? Or are you too busy giving charity to the working ss?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to talk about with you,¡± Miranda says, flicking a nce in Andrew¡¯s direction. He pretends not to notice, but I swear, there¡¯s something going on here that I¡¯m not getting. It¡¯s bugging the crap out of me, but I¡¯m afraid to ask. These two are the only ones in the whole school that I feelfortable with, and I refuse to mess that up. ¡°Not when you¡¯re treating Marnye like she doesn¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m aware she exists,¡± he says, still looking at his sister, and lifting long fingers up to tousle his white-blonde hair. ¡°Trust me: we¡¯re all very aware she¡¯s here.¡± He turns his attention over to me, and I¡¯m forced to take a step back. Just the weight of his stare is enough, like a physical push to the chest. ¡°What I don¡¯t understand is why she¡¯s still here.¡±


    ¡°She is standing right in front of you,¡± I grind out, remembering Creed¡¯s face on the yacht, his bored, almost put-out expression as Tristan torched the book. ¡°You can throw whatever you want at me. I might bend, but I won¡¯t break.¡±


    In a sh, Creed¡¯s long fingers are on my chin, lifting my face to look at him. My skin, where his fingertips touch it, tingles and burns. Swallowing down a lump, I force myself to look him straight in the face.


    ¡°Made of stronger stuff, hmm?¡± he asks, tilting my head from side to side like he¡¯s studying me. I p his hand away, and take another step back. The way his mouth twists to the side in an arrogant smile is disturbing, so self- assured and cocky. I¡¯d love to see it wiped right off of his face.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve read her schrship essay,¡± Miranda interjects, rising to her feet. I¡¯m aware that the entire room is focused on our confrontation. ¡°Marnye is a ss-act, unlike you. I know Mom and Dad have given up on you, but I expected better.¡± She moves around the table and grabs my arm, dragging me away as her brother tucks his fingers into his cks pockets, watching us with narrowed eyes.


    But if I cowered every time one of the Idols looked at me like a bug to be crushed under their expensive loafers, I¡¯d already be enrolled in Lower Banks High and long-gone from Burberry Prep Academy.N?velDrama.Org content.


    My dad¡¯s been purposely avoiding my calls. I haven¡¯t been able to talk to him once since I got here. Instead, I get missed calls and vague voicemails. Pretty sure he¡¯s been drinking again, but there¡¯s nothing I can do from here, a day¡¯s drive away and trapped in a hell of my own.


    Parents¡¯ Week is supposed to start off with a special breakfast, and a speech from both the dean and the infamous Kathleen Cabot. My dad-and by proxy, me-has already missed that. I¡¯m thest student sitting in the front courtyard, waiting for her parents to show up.


    Well, second tost, really.


    Zayd Kaiser leans against the stone wall of Tower Two, arms crossed over his chest, green eyes focused on the horizon. They¡¯re devoid of expectation as he watches the winding road and taps his inked fingers against the leg of his cks.

 20

    When he sees me looking at him, he scowls and turns away.Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°My dad¡¯s on tour right now. What the fuck is your parents¡¯ excuse? Too busy working at the factory?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with working at a factory,¡± I grind out, my jaw clenched tight, ¡°but no, my dad will be here.¡± I¡¯m not about to exin to Zayd that I¡¯m worried he¡¯s too drunk, that he passed out somewhere, that he forgot. That¡¯d just give him more ammo to throw at me, and even without a whole lot, the Idols are doing a damn good job gunning for me. ¡°He¡¯ll be here,¡± I repeat, crossing my arms over my chest and shivering at the cool breeze. I¡¯ve always disliked October and the cold chill of fall. While everybody else was going to the pumpkin patch with their families, trick-or- treating, having big Thanksgiving get-togethers, it was just me and Dad struggling to get by.


    Zayd ignores me, humming some song under his breath that I vaguely recognize. I¡¯m more of a ssical music person, so I¡¯m not super familiar with rock, but I¡¯m pretty sure Zayd¡¯s dad is Billy Kaiser, the lead singer for Battered Wings, a popr rock band from my parents¡¯ days. I bet that¡¯s hard, having a parent who¡¯s on the road all the time.


    Then Zayd mumbles something like poor little Working Girl under his breath, and all my sympathy fades away.


    We both perk up a bit at the sound of a caring down the winding road. It¡¯s impossible to tell who¡¯s in it because the windows are tinted, and it¡¯s got the academy¡¯s logo on the side. Parents aren¡¯t allowed to drive up to the school and instead have to park in the visitors¡¯ lot five miles away. Everyone


    -even the working ss-gets a ride to the front entrance in the same vehicle.


    When the door opens, and I see my dad climb out, I have to hold back a small shriek of joy, my cheeks lighting up. As I stand up and smooth my skirt out, I notice Zayd watching me, and try not to feel smug. My dad is here, so where is yours? Even if the guy¡¯s a jerk, the thought¡¯s just too mean. I¡¯m not that kind of person. Or ¡­ at least I try not to be.


    I start down the stairs with a perky bounce in my steps, grinning from ear to ear when Dad smiles at me and opens his arms for a hug. He¡¯s clearly sober, and his hair looks freshly-washed and styled, his face clean-shaven.


    ¡°Baby girl!¡± he calls out, wrapping me up in his strong arms and spinning me around. We haven¡¯t been separated for this long since ¡­ forever ago. When Mom first left and tried to take me with her. Shaking my head, I decide not to think about that. Those memories are best left forgotten. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much, honey.¡±


    I open my mouth to tell him the same when a second figure climbs out of the car, and my heart turns to ice in my chest.


    ¡°Zack,¡± I choke out, eyes widening.


    ¡°Hey Marnye,¡± he says, his voice still that same dark bass it was in eighth grade. Zack matured faster than the rest of the boys, shooting up to an impressive six foot three, with big hands and muscles from football and track. But over the summer, he¡¯s just gotten ¡­ ripped. My mouth goes dry, and my palms start to sweat.


    ¡°What ¡­¡± I start to ask my ex-boyfriend what he¡¯s doing here, but Dad answers for me.


    ¡°The school gave me two tickets for today, and your mother ¡­¡± He doesn¡¯t have to finish that thought; we both know what Mom¡¯s up to, taking care of her recement husband and daughter and leaving the two of us to rot. ¡°Well, I called and asked, and they said it was okay if I wanted to bring a family friend.¡±


    ¡°A family friend,¡± I whisper, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind one ear. It¡¯s basically down to my ass now, and difficult to control in a strong wind. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it.¡± My eyes sweep Zack¡¯srge, muscr form, wondering when his chest and stomach got so t, his arm muscles so big that the sleeves of his leather jacket look strained. His dark hair is gelled up on the top, and as I stare at him, he reaches up and smooths it t with his palm.


    ¡°Zack¡¯s been helping out around the house,¡± Dad says as I nce back and find that Zayd¡¯s disappeared. Good. Thest thing I need is him eavesdropping on our conversation. God knows what sort of crap the Idols would pull out after hearing his. ¡°He¡¯s been helping me stay sober, too.¡±


    Biting my lower lip, I nod, looking Dad¡¯s outfit over. He didn¡¯t pick those ck cks and white button-up on his own. Zack¡¯s family owns a series of shops catering to wedding attire, a few bridal shops, some tailors, a tuxedo rental ce. I used to think the Brooks family was rich. Compared to the students here, he¡¯s as poor as I am.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m d you¡¯re both here,¡± I say hesitantly, trying to ignore the way Zack¡¯s brown eyes take in my uniform. He¡¯s clearly appreciative, and I don¡¯t know how to feel about that. We dated for six months, but that was in middle school. That means less than nothing in the scheme of things. ¡°Come on, we can make the morning tour.¡±


    I take my dad¡¯s arm and lead him up the steps, Zack trailing behind us. He whistles as we walk past the fountain and down the path toward the chapel.


    ¡°Nice ce you got here,¡± Zack says, his voice sending ripples of goose bumps across my skin. Dad holds open the stained ss doors for us both and our arms brush, making me swallow hard.


    ¡°Nice to look at,¡± I mumble, and while Dad misses that statement, Zack definitely hears. The way he looks at me, I know he¡¯s thinking about the pranks, the fights, the constant torture. At first, he was the one that started it all, but the


    n we started dating and ¡­

 21

    No. No, Marnye, we¡¯re not reliving old memories. Burberry Prep is supposed to be a fresh start.


    ¡°The teachers are posting grades today,¡± I say with a small sigh. ¡°I know I¡¯ve done well, but thepetition here is fierce. I¡¯ve never been a part of anything like it.¡±


    ¡°They post grades publicly?¡± Zack asks, his dark eyebrows rising up in surprise. ¡°Sounds like a recipe for disaster.¡± I shrug my shoulders, but I know he¡¯s right. Whatever my ranking, I¡¯m going to be destroyed for it. I¡¯ve already tried to prepare myself.


    ¡°Marnye!¡± Miranda shouts, waving her arms wildly. I¡¯m happy to see her, but my chest gets tight when I notice Creed close behind. Fortunately, his mother, Kathleen Cabot, the founder of the Cabot Schrship Award program is right there with him. She smiles at me, too, and the knot loosens up a bit. ¡°Marnye,¡± Miranda gasps out, panting as she wraps her fingers


    around my upper arm. She starts to open her mouth to say something and pauses, looking past my dad and straight to Zack. ¡°Oh. Who¡¯s this?¡± She blinks those longshes of hers as I chew on my lip in nervousness.


    ¡°Miranda, this is my dad, Charlie, and my ¡­ our family friend, Zack Brooks.¡±


    ¡°Well hello, Zack Brooks,¡± she says, shing that winning smile. ¡°And Mr. Reed, lovely to meet you.¡± She holds out her hand and shakes with both men as her mother and brother make their way over to us. Creed hangs back, but I notice his eyes taking in Zack with disdain. When I nce over my shoulder, I find my ex staring with narrowed eyes. I¡¯ve seen Zack destroy stronger people than Creed Cabot with nothing but words. I used to think he was a monster.


    ¡°What were you going to say?¡± I whisper after I greet Kathleen with a hug, and her and my dad start up a conversation about the Burberry Prep campus. ¡°You were practically panting when you ran over here.¡± Miranda¡¯s blue eyes light up, turning them into sapphires. There¡¯s so much warmth there; I can hardly imagine Creed¡¯s eyes doing the same. Nope. Hell¡¯s more likely to freeze over.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°Right,¡± she says, grinning at me. I notice her skirt¡¯s not rolled up at the hem today, hitting her at the knees instead of mid-thigh. ¡°Grades were posted just after breakfast.¡± I raise an eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. ¡°And Marnye, you won¡¯t believe it.¡±


    ¡°Believe what?¡± I ask as Creed and Zack continue to stare each other down. Honestly, they¡¯re both assholes. They¡¯d probably make great friends. Then again, I get the feeling that Creed, Zayd, and Tristan don¡¯t much like each other. Birds of a feather flock together until the cates, huh? ¡°Stop being cryptic and just tell me.¡±


    ¡°Dude,¡± she gushes, and it¡¯s the first time she¡¯s ever called me that, so I grin, ¡°you¡¯re number one.¡± My mouth drops open, and all the blood rushes from my face to my feet.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re number one, out of the whole first year ss.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me,¡± I choke out, feeling the first wave of dread hit me. Creed¡¯s just switched his attention to me, and I can see hatred burning deep in his gaze.


    ¡°First?¡± Dad echoes, putting a hand on my shoulder and making me jump. ¡°Marnye, that¡¯s incredible.¡±


    ¡°I knew we picked the right girl,¡± Kathleen says, her red hair curling and falling in a graceful wave over her shoulders. She has the same blue eyes as her kids, the same warm smile as Miranda. ¡°Congrattions, Marnye, you¡¯re off to an incredible start.¡±


    An inFredible start that¡¯s going to get me killed, I think, looking back at Creed again. But he¡¯s already turned away to flirt with some girl in a second- year uniform. There¡¯s no better way to light a fire under a bully¡¯s ass than to outdo them at their own game. Me being first in academics only spells trouble.


    ¡°Thanks everyone,¡± I force out with a smile. Zack catches my eye, and I look away. We didn¡¯t exactly part as friends, although Dad doesn¡¯t know that. I¡¯m not about to spill my fears to either of them. ¡°Should we get going?¡±


    I notice the tour starting down the hall, and wave our little group along to join it.


    Because I¡¯m lost in my thoughts, Ig just slightly behind, and feel a shiver overtake me just before a palm ms into the wall in front of my face. I nce over and find Tristan with his de gray eyes starting me down.


    ¡°You little bitch,¡± he growls out, the vehemence in his voice thick and unmistakable. ¡°What¡¯d you do? Fuck your way to straight As?¡± My cheeks flush, and I curl my hands into fists.


    ¡°I studied, Tristan. Maybe if you spent less time drinking and sleeping with random girls, you could seed, too.¡± He hits the wall with his palm again, and I jump. There¡¯s so much tension in his body that even in a hall full of people, I¡¯m afraid.


    ¡°This little Mary Sue act of yours is getting old,¡± he snarls, pushing off of the wall and looking me up and down with a sneer that, unfortunately, does nothing to mar the handsome features of his face. ¡°If you¡¯ve got skeletons in your closet, you might want to make sure they¡¯re buried. Because I¡¯m going to destroy you.¡±


    ¡°Marnye, are you okay?¡± Zack asks, appearing on my left side. The way he looks at Tristan makes me wonder if they¡¯ve met each other before. Something shes across Tristan¡¯s face before he smirks.


    ¡°Brooks. I¡¯m surprised to see you here. Didn¡¯t you get rejected? Even your family¡¯s money wasn¡¯t enough to get Burberry Prep to take your loser ass.¡± Tristan¡¯s anger subsides slightly, reced with haughty arrogance. He lifts his chin and smiles, reaching up to brush dark hair from his brow. ¡°Or


    are you sleeping with Charity, too? Even with her looks, it seems she has plenty of customers.¡±


    ¡°Charity?¡± Zackughs, that dry, dark, scary sound that used to make me tremble. ¡°Do you think you¡¯re clever, Vanderbilt? Don¡¯t forget that I¡¯ve kicked your ass more than once, and I¡¯m happy to do it again.¡±


    ¡°So you are fucking her?¡± Tristan continues, his silver gaze sliding back to me. He seems excited to have unearthed this scandalous bit of news. Too bad for him that I¡¯m a virgin. There¡¯s no skeleton to dig up here. I¡¯m not sure what Zack means about kicking Tristan¡¯s ass, but it¡¯s clear these two do know each other. Still, Tristan doesn¡¯t fazed by Zack¡¯s presence, not at all. ¡°Where did the two of you meet? At that ghetto school of yours?¡±


    ¡°Save it for fall break, dickhead,¡± Zack snaps, and my brows wrinkle up. When he reaches down for my wrist, I jerk from his grasp, and we end up staring at each other. Family friend my dad might call him, but h


    e was never a friend of mine.

 22

    Zack¡¯s eyes narrow, but he turns and heads down the hallway where Miranda¡¯s waiting, watching and listening to the verbal scuffle between the boys with her mouth hanging open.


    ¡°Enjoy your tour, Charity,¡± Tristan schmoozes, lifting a cocky brow. ¡°Because you won¡¯t be around much longer.¡±


    The next morning, we have ss as usual. The only difference is that the families are allowed to hang around and observe. Most do, but I notice that Zayd¡¯s dad still isn¡¯t here. I guess he¡¯s noting at all. The asshole acts like it doesn¡¯t bother him, hitting on girls, and letting out that raucousugh of his, as usual. I wonder though if it¡¯s all a front to cover up the pain. I know all about that.


    Zack sits beside me during the morning announcements, but Charlie¡¯s nowhere to be seen. I know the parents were being housed in the cabins (think mping style cabins) out by theke, and being driven in at their leisure. But when I ask Zack where my dad is, he just shrugs his big shoulders and refuses to look at me.


    By the time we get to our mixed media ss, I¡¯m already starting to sweat. Not only is Dad still missing, but today we¡¯re focusing on music, getting a feel for everyone¡¯s talents, and starting the auditions for the school orchestra. I figure I probably don¡¯t have muchpetition considering I y the harp. It¡¯s kind of a rare instrument. Good thing, too, since there¡¯s usually only one spot for a harpist.


    ¡°Everyone take a seat,¡± Mr. Carter says, taking control of the ss for the day. He¡¯s the conductor for the Burberry Preparatory Academy Orchestra, and the one I need to impress most this week. ¡°Today we¡¯ll be getting a feel for the type of music and instruments each student is interested in.¡±


    An email pops up on my academy-issued iPad from Mr. Carter, and I tap on it, ncing down the length of the form as he exins how to fill it out.


    ¡°You think any of these uptight assholes can outy you?¡± Zack asks, and I shrug. Harper du Pont is sitting right behind me, and thest thing I want to do is draw attention to my instrument of choice. The way she looks at me, it wouldn¡¯t be surprising if she picked the harp just to spite me.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out,¡± I murmur as I submit the form, and then sit back to wait for everyone else, listening to Mr. Carter drone on about the choir program, the orchestra, and the music industry internship opportunities. The door to the lecture hall opens, and I ncezily over my shoulder to see who it is.


    It¡¯s Charlie.


    And he¡¯s drunk off his ass.


    He stumbles into the ssroom, tripping over his own feet, one handnding on Anna Kirkpatrick¡¯s shoulder. She twists her face in disgust and pulls away from him as I stand up, dropping my iPad to the ground.Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Marnye, baby?¡± Dad calls out, and a bevy of dark snickers takes over the room. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    My whole body¡¯s frozen over, and I feel rooted to the spot. Zack is quicker to react than me, bulldozing his way out of the aisle and grabbing Charlie by the shoulders.


    ¡°No, I want to see Marnye,¡± Dad slurs, trying to throw Zack off. But despite their age difference, Zack is about a million times stronger. He gets my father under control, hustling him toward the door as the entire ss looks on in silence.


    ¡°Guess the apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree,¡± Becky tter sneers, and the room lights up withughter.


    ¡°If you need a minute, you can excuse yourself, Miss Reed,¡± Mr. Carter says, but he doesn¡¯t correct Becky for herment. Why should he? Most of these kids have the staff wrapped around their fingers. Cheeks ming, I pick my way down the aisle, and head up the steps, holding back tears.


    Shoving my way out of the mixed media room, I find my dad slumped against a wall, Zack¡¯s hold just barely keeping him upright. I¡¯m torn between being worried and upset, my emotions a wild turmoil inside of me. I love my dad, but his behavior, it¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s fucking uneptable.


    ¡°Do you know what you¡¯ve just done?¡± I whisper, choking back the tears. ¡°You¡¯ve given them the ammo they really need to take shots at me.¡±


    ¡°They?¡± Zack asks as Dad groans. The man¡¯s barely conscious. My yelling at him isn¡¯t going to do a thing. So much as I want to voice my anger, I take up his other side and help Zack lead him toward the front where the cars are waiting to ferry parents back and forth from the cabins.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I murmur, feeling Zack¡¯s dark eyes still on me. He says nothing as we move down the hall and out the door, along the corridor, and into the courtyard.


    ¡°Your dad got some newsst night,¡± Zack tells me, but when I ask what it is, he mps all the way up. Jerk.


    I¡¯m soaked in sweat by the time I get my dad into the back of the car. Zack pauses, like he¡¯s not sure whether he should stay or go.


    ¡°He needs you,¡± I saymely, holding up a palm. ¡°He can barely walk let alone change his clothes and get into bed. Just make sure he sleeps facedown.¡± My eyes lift up to meet Zack¡¯s, those dark pits that arepletely and utterly unreadable. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re helping me, but ¡­ thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Zack says, sliding into the backseat next to my dad. He ms the door, and the car starts off down the side road that leads to theke. I watch it until it disappears, closing my eyes and doing my best to gather myself before going back to ss. It isn¡¯t easy, not with my hands shaking, my shirt sticking to my back with sweat, but I manage.


    As soon as I walk in the door, I can feel it, the weight of their judgement, the depth of their hatred.


    I settle myself into my seat and manage to hold back my tears for the rest of the day.


    Next week,


    I might not be so lucky.

 23

    ¡°Please tell me more about Zack,¡± Miranda begs, lounging on my bed and watching as I examine my borrowed costume in the mirror. We still have two weeks until Halloween, but apparently, the party here at Burberry is a huge deal. Not that I¡¯m surprised. I¡¯m pretty sure all the parties here are big deals. ¡°What¡¯s there to tell?¡± I ask, turning to the side and wondering why every costume Miranda¡¯s brought over for me to try on is so short and low-cut. Oh wait. Remember that scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan has the voiceover about Halloween, exining that it¡¯s a day for girls to dress slutty without actually being called sluts? Not that I agree with slut-shaming, but


    that statement is still, unfortunately, true.


    ¡°He was so dark and mysterious,¡± she mumbles, burying the lower half of her face in my pillow. ¡°Pretty sure he has a thing for you.¡± I snort and decide that wearing a red bodycon dress with horns and Prada heels isn¡¯t going to work for me. Miranda sees the expression on my face and ps the bed with her palm. ¡°How clever is that outfit?! It¡¯s a conceptual thing, like The Devil Wears Prada, you know?¡±


    ¡°I got it,¡± I tell her with a smallugh. ¡°I just don¡¯t think it¡¯s going to help my reputation as the Working Girl, you know?¡± Grabbing the next outfit off the stack, I head into the bathroom and start to change into another nearly identical costume. ¡°And Zack does not have a thing for me. He¡¯s always hated me.¡±


    ¡°Hated you? He was practically drooling.¡± I hear the bed creak as Miranda gets up, covering her eyes with her hand and leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. ¡°Come on, don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t think he¡¯s hot.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s ¡­ Zack Brooks.¡± My lips purse as I slip into an angel costume that¡¯s even shorter and tighter than the devil one I just tried on. Nope. If I do go to this Halloween party, then I¡¯m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. ¡°He treated me like crap for all three years of middle school. I¡¯ve hated him since I was twelve.¡± ExFept for thosest few months when we dated. Ugh. I haven¡¯t told Miranda about that part yet.


    ¡°Yeah, but, people change ¡­¡± Miranda hedges, peeking out from behind her hand, her eyes lighting up. ¡°You look so freaking cute in that,¡± she says, but I¡¯m not even going to put the halo on. It¡¯s just not happening. ¡°Although the devil costume was my favorite.¡± She steps into the bathroom and scoops the massive fall of my hair into an artful chignon. ¡°Maybe with an updo? You have fabulous hair, by the way. Combine it with that costume, and you¡¯ll be the hottest girl at the party.¡±


    I smile, she¡¯s sweet, she really is, but there¡¯s just no way.


    ¡°You should wear it,¡± I tell Miranda, shooing her out of the bathroom, so I can change again. She goes, grabbing the red Prada heels and dress on the way. When I hear her rummaging around in my wardrobe, I roll my eyes, yanking a gray tank top and shorts on before I go out to confront her with a hand on my hip. ¡°What are you doing?¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°I¡¯m going as Farrah Moan, I told you that.¡± She peeks out at me from behind the wardrobe door. ¡°The drag queen? From RuPaul¡¯s Drag RaFe. Oh,e on, Marnye.¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest and gesture at her with my chin.


    ¡°I know what RuPaul¡¯s Drag RaFe is. What I¡¯m asking is why you¡¯re shoving that outfit into my closet?¡±


    ¡°If I leave it here, maybe the subtle suggestion will take over you in your sleep, and you¡¯ll wear this to the party.¡± Miranda shuts the doors and raises her eyebrows at me. ¡°Now stop avoiding the subject, and tell me about Zack.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to talk about. He ¡­ his family used to know my dad. Sometimes hees around and helps out. That¡¯s all I know.¡± Miranda sighs at me and grabs her bag, giving me a hard look.


    ¡°You better not be holding out on me.¡± She pauses and her expression softens. When she reaches out to tuck some hair behind my ear, I smile.


    Everything she doeses from a good ce. It¡¯s hard to be angry with her. ¡°Remember, I read your essay. You put your heart and soul into that, and there was no mention of Zack. I smell a mystery.¡±


    ¡°Zack wasn¡¯t in there because he¡¯s not a part of my heart and soul,¡± I tell her, grabbing her arm and steering her to the door. ¡°Now go home and go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Love you, night!¡± she calls out as I close the door and lock it.


    Miranda¡¯s nowhere to be found the next morning, so I muddle through morning sses without her. I catch a glimpse of Andrew with his friends, but only in passing. He raises a hand to wave, and I wave back, but that¡¯s about it. My day is a social desert, and surprisingly, I¡¯m grateful for it. It¡¯s nice to have a break from being bullied and asked if I¡¯d like a drink. Come on guys, the first few times it¡¯s clever, but really, as an alcoholic¡¯s daughter, I¡¯ve heard it all. They¡¯ll have toe up with some new material if they want to mess with me.


    Flopping into my seat in mixed media, I take out my iPad and, as per the instructions on the screen at the front of the ss, check my email for my instrument assignment. Instead of being assigned the harp, the only instrument I checked on the form, I¡¯ve been put into choir.


    My mouth pops open, and I nce up, noticing a pedal harp on the stage up front.


    A squeal breaks out behind me, and Becky is up and moving down the steps in a blur, her skirt at least two or three inches shorter than mine and Miranda¡¯s. I see shes of her panties as she scrambles down to Mr. Carter. I can¡¯t hear what they¡¯re saying, but she¡¯s gesturing wildly, and then ¡­ sitting down at the harp.


    ¡°What the ever-loving hell?¡± I grumble, my hands tightening on the edges of my tablet. The smell of vanis and peaches wafts over me as Harper leans forward, her brte hair fluttering forward and tickling my right cheek. Slowly, I slide my eyes her direction.


    ¡°What do you think, Working Girl? My mother¡¯s on the schoolboard, and she really likes Becky. After all, we¡¯ve been friends for years.¡± She taps a sharp nailed pink fingernail on my tablet screen. ¡°I noticed you checked off choir in the No Thank You section of the form. But girls like you need to expand their ho


    rizons, don¡¯t you think?¡±

 24

    I¡¯m shaking, but I don¡¯t say anything to her, not right now. What good would it do to cause a scene? Instead, I look forward and pretend I don¡¯t notice Tristan making his way over to sit behind me.


    Okay, so, I¡¯ve been assigned to choir. Fine. That doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t try out for the academy orchestra. Without skipping a beat, I click the link to the sign-up form and start to fill it out when a hand sps onto my shoulder. ncing back, I see that it¡¯s Harper again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she hisses, but I jerk from her grip and continue what I¡¯m doing. ¡°You try out for the orchestra, and I¡¯ll kill you myself.¡± This time I do turn around, meeting the harsh blue of her re. Tristan sits stoically beside her, his face locked into a mask of arrogance that seems impossible to break. But I saw it, during Parents¡¯ Week, his perfect facade shattering into anger.


    ¡°Instead of threatening me, maybe you should ask why you¡¯re so afraid of me?¡± I raise both brows, and then hit the submit button. Harper¡¯s pink painted lips curl up in a snarl, but she doesn¡¯t say anything, choosing instead to ingratiate herself to Tristan.


    On the plus side, as ss continues, and Becky ys her first piece, I realize it right away: I¡¯m a lot better than her.


    Good for me. I¡¯ll have to be if I want to win that seat.


    After sses are done for the day, I spend a few minutes looking for Miranda, and then give up, heading to The Mess without her. As soon as I walk in, I know something¡¯s wrong.


    Creed is lounging on top of a table like azy prince, all coiffed elegance, one leg straight out in front of him, the other bent at the knee. He¡¯s resting on his left elbow, and in his right hand, he¡¯s holding a stack of paper. His icy blue eyes lift to mine as soon as I walk in the door.


    ¡°There wasn¡¯t a moment in middle sFhool that I didn¡¯t feel like I was under attaFk. The siege Fame from all sides: an alFoholiF father at home, a mother who didn¡¯t want me, and ssmates who¡¯d made it their personal mission to destroy me.¡± He pauses, the edge of his mouth curling up in a smile. His


    captive audience turns to look at me, a knowing gleam in their collective gazes.


    Without realizing it, I drop my bookbag to the floor. My knees feel weak, and my head swims. No, this isn¡¯t happening. This Fan¡¯t be happening.


    Creed clears his throat again, and peers back down at his phone.


    ¡°For the longest time, I Fouldn¡¯t figure out why they hated me so muFh. When I did, it nearly broke me. One day, when I was at my lowest, I sat down on the floor of the girls¡¯ bathroom and I swallowed a bottle of presFription pills I¡¯d stolen from my mother¡¯s purse. IroniFally, the first and only time she¡¯d visited me in years was going to be thest time she¡¯d see me: that was my n. Use her pills, end it all, let the pain fade away.¡±Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    My heart is thundering so fast, I can barely hear Creed reading my schrship essay aloud to the room. Blood pounds in my ears, as loud as the ocean waves against the rocks outside. As Miranda said, I put my heart and soul into that essay. It was everything to me, the whole story of my life, and my ticket out of poverty, into Burberry Prep, into a future that didn¡¯t involve train cars converted to houses or relying on my dad¡¯s on-again, off-again welding work for food and clothing.


    I felt like I¡¯d been gutted, like pieces of me were lying on the floor at the feet of the Idols and their wicked Inner Circle.


    Memories flickered in my head, memories of Zack bursting into the room and kneeling beside me, putting his fingers down my throat, making me throw up. If he hadn¡¯t gone in there after me, I might very well be dead. And yet, he was one of the instigators, one of my worst critics. I¡¯d never understood that, how he changed after that moment.


    ¡°Stop,¡± I choke out, but Creed just smiles bigger, Zayd grinning from ear to ear on one side, Tristan standing stoic and silent on the other. ¡°Just stop.¡±


    ¡°Bullying nearly broke me, so muFh so that I tried again, just two monthster. I tried to slit my wrists, and I failed at that, too.¡± Creed pauses as Zayd roars withughter and Tristan crosses his arms over his chest. Game set and matFh, his face tells me. I can barely see Harper, Becky, and Gena standing beside him. They¡¯re getting blurry. The whole room is swimming.


    The door opens beside me and Andrew and Miranda walk in. Andrew catches me right before I fall, and I hear Miranda screaming at her brother. Thest thing I see before Andrew scoops me up in his arms and carries me out is Miranda yanking the papers from Creed¡¯s hand.


    The others boo at her and throw napkins, but we¡¯re already out the door, and Andrew is carrying me straight to my room.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe Creed would go that far!¡± Miranda chokes out, her face flushed as she paces in front of my bed. Andrewys me down and gets me a cold rag, and a ss of water, sitting beside me and putting his hand on my leg. I cover his fingers with my own and squeeze. There¡¯s no spark there, I think absently as I try not to throw up. What a random thought to have at such a horrible moment. Maybe I¡¯m in some form of emotional shock?


    ¡°How did he get ess to that?¡± Andrew asks, his voice quiet and dark.


    He nces back at Miranda, and she shakes her head.


    ¡°I have no idea. My mom, probably. But how he got that from her, I don¡¯t know. She¡¯s fiercely prote


    ctive of those essays.¡±

 25

    Leaning back into my pillows, I cover my face with my hands.


    From sixth grade through the first half of eighth, I was bullied so badly that I wanted to die. So badly that I tried to end it not once but twice. After that, things got better. People let up, and I realized I had to embrace the positive or the negative would drown me. When I came to Burberry Prep, I came with that idea in mind: embrace my new life, make a fresh start.


    And now I¡¯m drowning in it.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick,¡± I whisper, shoving up from the bed. I just barely make it into the bathroom before what little I had for lunch makes its way back up. Miranda moves into the bathroom and helps me hold my hair back, stroking my forehead forfort. ¡°I¡¯ll never be able to go to ss again.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them win, Marnye,¡± she whispers, voice warbly, like maybe she might cry, too. ¡°Creed is ¡­ he¡¯s the worst kind of bully there is. Him, and Zayd, Tristan and Harper and Becky. Don¡¯t give into them.¡±


    Without meaning to, I end up crying and hating myself for it. I can take a lot of crap, but that essay was my soul on a page. Now the Idols have everything they need to make my life a living hell. They know all about my father¡¯s alcoholism, his struggle to make ends meet, the things my mother did to me.


    After I finish throwing up, I kick Miranda out and climb in the shower, letting the water scald away my humiliation. It¡¯s just never-ending with these people. And all because I¡¯m poor. That¡¯s it. I thought the reasons for my bullying at Lower Banks were bullshit. This is even more arbitrary.


    Climbing out of the shower, I find that Miranda¡¯s snuck a stack of pjs into the room, so I change into them and head back out to find that Andrew¡¯s already left.


    ¡°I had to beg him not to beat Creed up,¡± she says, wringing her hands. I raise an eyebrow, but I¡¯m too tired to ask why Andrew would even bother. We¡¯re friends, sure, but just barely. I can¡¯t imagine him beating up an Idol for me. ¡°Do you want me to stay with you for a while?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°No, I just ¡­ I want to be alone for tonight.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, okay,¡± she says, giving me a hug before she lets herself out.


    Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I seriously consider walking to the principal¡¯s office and asking to go home. If I left, maybe I could breathe again. It feels like I haven¡¯t taken a single breath since I got here.


    All I want is to study and graduate, that¡¯s it. Why does that have to be so hard?


    Lying back on the bed, I close my eyes, and within minutes I¡¯m asleep.


    Navigating the school without running into the Idols or their cronies is impossible. They¡¯re everywhere, and they¡¯ve amped up their game. Even homeroom with Ms. Felton isn¡¯t safe. When her back is turned, I get pills thrown at me. Most everyone¡¯s drawn on their wrists with red Sharpie, lifting up the sleeves of their academy jackets and shing me in the halls.


    The only person who doesn¡¯t seem thrilled by my destruction is Tristan. He¡¯s always moody and frowning, and just barely makes it to ss. The Thursday before Halloween, I slip out of third period to go to the bathroom.


    As soon as I step inside, I hear the moans.


    Tristan has a girl bent over the sink, and he¡¯s fucking her.


    He nces over at me when Ie in, but he doesn¡¯t stop. His eyes narrow, glittering with some unreadable motion.


    Me, I just stand there gaping,pletely and utterly shocked by the sight in front of me.


    ¡°You gonna stand there and watch?¡± he snaps at me after a minute. Backing away, I turn and run from the bathroom, turning the corner and leaning my back against the stone wall. I¡¯d thought Tristan was dating Miranda behind the scenes, but ¡­ that most definitely wasn¡¯t Miranda. Pretty sure that was Kiara Xiao, another first-year student.


    For some reason, my body feels hot with frustration, and I want to punch something. Mostly I want to punch Tristan. He doesn¡¯t care about that girl. He doesn¡¯t care about anyone.


    When I tell Miranda about itter, she chokes on her iced tea and raises huge eyes to me.


    ¡°Right there in the girls¡¯ bathroom?¡± she asks, blinking rapidly. ¡°He¡¯s usually more discreet about it.¡±


    ¡°More discreet?¡± I whisper back, face ming. All those times he touched me or got close to me and I felt sparks ¡­ make me sick. What a creep. ¡°SoContent provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡­ all the girls know he¡¯ll sleep with whoever he can get his hands on, and they don¡¯t care?¡±


    Miranda shrugs her shoulders and takes a sip of her drink. We¡¯re the only ones in The Mess, taking advantage of the early dinner service. I¡¯ve tried toe in here while everyone else is eating, but it¡¯s just too much. I¡¯ve been relegated to slinking around the halls. Believe it or not, for someone who tried to hurt themselves, the constant shes of red-lined wrists, and the bottles of pills are pretty triggering.


    ¡°He¡¯s handsome, popr, and rich. Of course they all want to sleep with him.¡± Not for the first time, I wonder if she is also sleeping with him. I hate to think that of my friend, but she disappears randomly and doesn¡¯t tell me where she¡¯s been. She sometimes shows up ces with him, and he¡¯s always giving her looks.


    Honestly, I don¡¯t want to know.


    I focus on my food, but I don¡¯t feel like eating. My stomach feels like it¡¯s been encased in ice.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to sleep with him,¡± I murmur, putting my fork down as anxiety prickles across my ski


    n.

 26

    I¡¯d like to get out of here before anyone else shows up for dinner. Frankly, I feel like I¡¯ve been wrung dry, myst reserves of strength bled out along with the words to my essay. I¡¯m dreading getting my phone back tomorrow. What if Creed posts my essay online? That¡¯d really be the end of me.


    Besides, I¡¯m afraid to hear what my dad has to say to me. There¡¯s no apology in the world that can make up for what he did. I¡¯m desperate to know what this ¡®news¡¯ is that he received that supposedly upset him so much, and damn Zack for not telling me what it was.


    ¡°Is there anyone you do want to sleep with?¡± Miranda asks, putting her fork aside and scrambling to stand up and follow me out the door. ¡°Like ¡­ maybe Zack?¡±


    ¡°Would you let the Zack thing go?¡± I turn a re on her, but Miranda just smiles back at me. ¡°He used to bully me, you know? That, and he said some weird stuff to Tristan when he confronted me about my grades.¡±


    ¡°What sort of weird stuff?¡± Miranda asks, her shoulders stiffening up. Yet again, a single mention of Tristan and she gets all cryptic.


    ¡°It was pretty clear the two of them have met before. Zack challenged Tristan toe at him during fall break, and Tristan insinuated that Zack applied to Burberry Prep and didn¡¯t get in.¡± Miranda¡¯s chewing on her lower lip, a habit that¡¯s usually left to me. She doesn¡¯t look at me, just attempts a half-hearted hair flip.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never seen Zack before,¡± she adds with a shrug of her shoulders. She twirls around to face me, her red-pleated skirt spinning. ¡°Maybe they met during summer break or something? Tristan¡¯s family always goes to the Hamptons.¡±


    I have no idea where Zack goes for summer breaks, only that he¡¯s rich enough to go to a private school like this one, but had gotten kicked out of so many before he was relegated to Lower Banks Middle School. No clue where he¡¯s going to school this year. If he were here now, I wonder if we¡¯d be friends?


    ¡°Your family doesn¡¯t go to the Hamptons, too?¡± I ask, and Miranda flushes, like she¡¯s been caught in a lie.


    ¡°Sometimes, but not for the whole summer like some people. We have a cabin in Lake Tahoe ¡­¡± she trails off, and then switches up our conversation with a rapid change of subject. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not going to the Halloween party on Saturday?¡±


    ¡°Positively not,¡± I tell her, shivering as we pass the smiling faces of Harper and Becky, their arms linked, their eyes on me. Harper purposely elbows me in the side, and I stumble. Anger fills me up, white-hot and pulsing, but there¡¯s no point in acknowledging it. If I punch Harper, then I


    guarantee I¡¯m the one who will be in trouble. ¡°But I want you to go and have fun. Take pics for me, okay?¡±


    Miranda gives me a look, but lets me go at the chapel, veering off with a wave.


    I don¡¯t even remember getting back to my room or falling asleep. Actually, the next thing I remember is waking up with a hangover.


    My eyes are sticky, lids heavy, as I struggle to sit up in my bed. I¡¯ve got a serious case of dry mouth, and a massive migraine.


    ¡°What the ¡­ hell?¡± I groan as I reach up and run my fingers through my hair.


    My hair.


    Scrambling out of bed, I skid across the floor and into the bathroom, gaping at myself in the mirror above the sink. When I touched my hair, something felt wrong. But oh my god. Something is really, really wrong.


    My long, brte waves are gone, reced with a red pixie cut. And when I say red, I mean as red as blood. A scream lodges in my throat, but I choke it back, leaning forward and staring at the ragged ends of my hair. It¡¯s so short, I¡¯m not even sure that I could style it.


    For several long moments, I just stand there and stare, my brown eyes wide, my lips parted, my hair ¡­ a hot freaking mess. Stumbling back into my room, I check my bedroom door, and find the bottom lock in ce. The chain lock however is undone, and I always, always hook it-because I was scared of something like this happening.


    In a daze, I sit down hard on the edge of my bed, mind whirling with possibilities.


    ¡°I slept through it,¡± I murmur, running a palm over my new do. But then my head throbs and I cringe. No, no, I was drugged. Fucking drugged. There¡¯s no other exnation. A normal person doesn¡¯t sleep through a full bleach, dye, and cut job. That¡¯s just not possible.


    I¡¯m still wearing my uniform from the day before, but when I pinch the white shirt and nce down at it, I can see red stains that look like blood.


    This is the work of women, for sure. No way one of those asshole Idol dudes would realize how much this would hurt me. My hair, my hair, my freaking hair ¡­ I¡¯ve been growing it out since before I can even remember. It was damn near to my ass, and now it¡¯s all gone, and it¡¯s not something I can get back.


    My bones feel like jelly, so I flop down on the edge of my bed and stare at the floor. I¡¯d cry, but my eyes are so sticky, and I feel so drained. The length of my hair, the slight wave, the fullness ¡­ it was one of the few things I truly liked about myself.


    I¡¯d like to get out of here before anyone else shows up for dinner. Frankly, I feel like I¡¯ve been wrung dry, myst reserves of strength bled out along with the words to my essay. I¡¯m dreading getting my phone back tomorrow. What if Creed posts my essay online? That¡¯d really be the end of me.


    Besides, I¡¯m afraid to hear what my dad has to say to me. There¡¯s no apology in the world that can make up for what he did. I¡¯m desperate to know what this ¡®news¡¯ is that he received that supposedly upset him so much, and damn Zack for not telling me what it was.


    ¡°Is there anyone you do want to sleep with?¡± Miranda asks, putting her fork aside and scrambling to stand up and follow me out the door. ¡°Like ¡­ maybe Zack?¡±


    ¡°Would you let the Zack thing go?¡± I turn a re on her, but Miranda just smiles back at me. ¡°He used to bully me, you know? That, and he said some weird stuff to Tristan when he confronted me about my grades.¡±


    ¡°What sort of weird stuff?¡± Miranda asks, her shoulders stiffening up. Yet again, a single mention of Tristan and she gets all cryptic.


    ¡°It was pretty clear the two of them have met before. Zack challenged Tristan toe at him during fall break, and Tristan insinuated that Zack applied to Burberry Prep and didn¡¯t get in.¡± Miranda¡¯s chewing on her lower lip, a habit that¡¯s usually left to me. She doesn¡¯t look at me, just attempts a half-hearted hair flip.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never seen Zack before,¡± she adds with a shrug of her shoulders. She twirls around to face me, her red-pleated skirt spinning. ¡°Maybe they met during summer break or something? Tristan¡¯s family always goes to the Hamptons.¡±


    I have no idea where Zack goes for summer breaks, only that he¡¯s rich enough to go to a private school like this one, but had gotten kicked out of so many before he was relegated to Lower Banks Middle School. No clue where he¡¯s going to school this year. If he were here now, I wonder if we¡¯d be friends?


    ¡°Your family doesn¡¯t go to the Hamptons, too?¡± I ask, and Miranda flushes, like she¡¯s been caught in a lie.


    ¡°Sometimes, but not for the whole summer like some people. We have a cabin in Lake Tahoe ¡­¡± she trails off, and then switches up our conversation with a rapid change of subject. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not going to the Halloween party on Saturday?¡±Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Positively not,¡± I tell her, shivering as we pass the smiling faces of Harper and Becky, their arms linked, their eyes on me. Harper purposely elbows me in the side, and I stumble. Anger fills me up, white-hot and pulsing, but there¡¯s no point in acknowledging it. If I punch Harper, then I


    guarantee I¡¯m the one who will be in trouble. ¡°But I want you to go and have fun. Take pics for me, okay?¡±


    Miranda gives me a look, but lets me go at the chapel, veering off with a wave.


    I don¡¯t even remember getting back to my room or falling asleep. Actually, the next thing I remember is waking up with a hangover.


    My eyes are sticky, lids heavy, as I struggle to sit up in my bed. I¡¯ve got a serious case of dry mouth, and a massive migraine.


    ¡°What the ¡­ hell?¡± I groan as I reach up and run my fingers through my hair.


    My hair.


    Scrambling out of bed, I skid across the floor and into the bathroom, gaping at myself in the mirror above the sink. When I touched my hair, something felt wrong. But oh my god. Something is really, really wrong.


    My long, brte waves are gone, reced with a red pixie cut. And when I say red, I mean as red as blood. A scream lodges in my throat, but I choke it back, leaning forward and staring at the ragged ends of my hair. It¡¯s so short, I¡¯m not even sure that I could style it.


    For several long moments, I just stand there and stare, my brown eyes wide, my lips parted, my hair ¡­ a hot freaking mess. Stumbling back into my room, I check my bedroom door, and find the bottom lock in ce. The chain lock however is undone, and I always, always hook it-because I was scared of something like this happening.


    In a daze, I sit down hard on the edge of my bed, mind whirling with possibilities.


    ¡°I slept through it,¡± I murmur, running a palm over my new do. But then my head throbs and I cringe. No, no, I was drugged. Fucking drugged. There¡¯s no other exnation. A normal person doesn¡¯t sleep through a full bleach, dye, and cut job. That¡¯s just not possible.


    I¡¯m still wearing my uniform from the day before, but when I pinch the white shirt and nce down at it, I can see red stains that look like blood.


    This is the work of women, for sure. No way one of those asshole Idol dudes would realize how much this would hurt me. My hair, my hair, my freaking hair ¡­ I¡¯ve been growing it out since before I can even remember. It was damn near to my ass, and now it¡¯s all gone, and it¡¯s not something I can get back.


    My bones feel like jelly, so I flop down on the edge of my bed and stare at the floor. I¡¯d cry, but my eyes are so sticky, and I feel so drained. The length of my hair, the slight wave, the fullness ¡­ it was one of the few things


    I truly liked about myself.

 27

    The next day is Halloween, and I¡¯ve made my decision about the party.


    ¡°You ¡­¡± Miranda stares at me, dressed in the red bodycon dress, red Prada heels, horns, and clip-on tail. I¡¯ve even done my makeup, putting on a smoky cat eye and vibrant lips. Red glitter adorns both cheeks, and I¡¯ve taken a razor to what was left of my hair. It¡¯s now gelled up into a stylish but soft crest down the middle, gentle waves curving around my ears. ¡°Look so freaking hot.¡± She mps her mouth closed and just stares at me like she¡¯s never seen me before.


    I¡¯m still fuming, but I¡¯m also going stir crazy. Creeping around the halls and hiding in my room isn¡¯t doing it for me.


    I smile.


    ¡°So do you.¡± I gesture at Miranda¡¯s tight, pink dress and coiffed blonde hair. Her makeup is wless, long white gloves on her arms, gold rings glittering on her fingers. I haven¡¯tpletely forgotten that I was drugged at some point on Thursday, but I also don¡¯t think I can survive Burberry Prep without her. Besides, it¡¯s easier for me to hold onto trust than believe deceit from my friends.


    ¡°I¡¯m kind of ¡­ in shock,¡± she continues, circling me and looking me up and down. ¡°You look so freaking fierce.¡± She snaps her fingers in my general direction. ¡°Devil Wears Prada-SFarlet Letter realness, hunty.¡± A genuineugh escapes my throat as I smooth my palms down the front of my


    dress. It¡¯s too tight, too short, and I¡¯m pretty sure it would look better on Miranda¡¯s thin form than my, uh, less than thin form, but I¡¯m determined.


    I¡¯m going out tonight, and nothing¡¯s going to stop me.


    I¡¯ve been banned from getting my phone back this weekend, so I don¡¯t worry about Dad or whatever messages he may or may not have sent me. No, I¡¯m going to focus on survival instead. I¡¯m still leading the school in grades, and I¡¯m already preparing for the orchestra auditions this Friday. If I can excel in my own ways, then I¡¯ll keep my head down and endure whatever the Idols throw at me.


    ¡°Wait until Andrew sees you,¡± Miranda giggles, lifting my hand up and making me twirl for her. ¡°He¡¯s going to lose his mind.¡± She leads me out into the hall where Andrew¡¯s waiting, dressed in a ridiculously expensive looking Zoot suit. I¡¯ve seen cheap versions at the Halloween store in Lower Banks, but this is ¡­ holy crap. His hair is slicked back from his face and hiding under a wide-brimmed fedora. His shoes are ck and white, as shiny as the chain hanging from his pocket. He twirls it as he gapes at me. ¡°Does she not look totally andpletely gorg?¡±


    Andrew¡¯s brows go up, and he reaches to adjust his pinstriped hat.


    ¡°You seriously turned this hair thing into a miracle,¡± he tells me, and I grin, doing a little twirl before letting him take both Miranda and me by the arms. The party tonight is actually an academy sponsored event, so it¡¯s being held in the gym with a DJ, gaudy streamers, and plenty of chaperones. From what Miranda tells me, the real party starts afterwards, over by theke.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to stay positive.¡± I exhale as we approach the ridiculous arch over the gym door. It might be expensive-I¡¯m pretty sure those are real roses woven into the trellis-but it looks much the same as every other school dance I¡¯ve been to. ¡°Tristan called me a nervous, eager charity case. And I¡¯m okay with that. I am eager, and I am nervous, and I am here on charity, so I¡¯m going to embrace that tonight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to y,¡± Miranda drawls as she drags us in and over to the photo booth. People are staring at me. No, not just people, everyone is staring at me, but I ignore them, snatching props and taking ridiculous, over- the-top photos with my friends. We settle at a table next, and Andrew leaves to grab refreshments.


    ncing over my shoulder, I see that the dance floor ispletely packed, mostly with Idols and their Inner Circle goons, but there are Plebs, too. Honestly, I¡¯ve stopped even bothering to differentiate. Whatever the


    Idols want to happen spreads through the school like wildfire. I¡¯ve been treated just as poorly by the regr students as the self-appointed elite ones.


    ¡°Look who it is,¡± Zayd purrs,ing over to the table and leaning his forearms against it. I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s supposed to be, but it looks like he¡¯s taking advantage of thex dress code to go topless. His entire upper body and both arms are covered in tattoos, and the muscles underneath are rock-hard. Something tightens in my lower belly, but I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s hatred so I ignore it. ¡°Look at you, Working Girl. Don¡¯t you look fuckable tonight.¡±


    His grin is infectious, but it¡¯s not meant to be kind, so I steel myself against the smile that tries to steal over my lips. For fuck¡¯s sake, he just called me Working Girl again. Of the three Idol boys though, he¡¯s been the least cruel. I try to give him some credit for that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t dick with the devil, Kaiser,¡± I deadpan, and even when he roars withughter, I don¡¯t react.


    ¡°Wow,¡± he starts, standing up and raking his fingers through his sea green hair. Those emerald eyes of his sparkle as he takes me in. ¡°Vicious.¡± He gestures at me with fingers covered in rings, and uses the other to tug up his very low-slung ck skinny jeans. ¡°I¡¯m digging the hair. Becky did a nice job.¡± He pauses and pretends to grimace, like he let information slip on ident. From what I figure, Zayd Kaiser doesn¡¯t do anything on ident. As I stare at him, I try to remember the hurt on his face when the car pulled up, and it was my dad inside and not his. Then he opens his mouth again. ¡°Ah, but you already knew she did it, huh, Charity? Her mother runs some famous beauty line.¡± He rolls his eyes like this is information hardly worth repeating.


    ¡°Who drugged me?¡± I ask, because if he¡¯s already half-drunk and loose- tongued then I may as well get something out of him. ¡°Because clearly someone did.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, why don¡¯t you ask your friend over here?¡± he points to Miranda with a ck-painted nail, and teases one of the lip rings pierced through either side of his mouth. When I flick my attention her way, the hurt is evident in her expression.


    ¡°I would never do something like that,¡± she spits, and the vehemence in her voice makes me want to believe her. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you guys did it, but you¡¯re lucky Marnye didn¡¯t press charges.¡± Zayd shrugs his shoulders like he couldn¡¯t care less, and moves past, giving me a patronizing pat on the


    head before he grabs Anna Kirkpatrick around the waist and hauls her into his arms as she squeals. ¡°Marnye?¡±


    I turn back to find Miranda watching me, and I make myself smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I know it wasn¡¯t you.¡± I sit back down as Andrew approaches the table, setting out three sses of red punch and a te piled with hors d¡¯oeuvres. Miranda¡¯s still staring at me like she thinks I¡¯m mad at her, but tonight is not about what Becky and whoever else did to me. No, we¡¯re su


    pposed to have fun tonight.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.

 28

    I take a sip of the punch and then raise my eyebrows. It¡¯s clearly spiked.


    Setting it aside, I rise to my feet, palms on the table. ¡°Do either of you want to dance with me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not drunk enough yet!¡± Miranda moans, and Andrewughs as I yank her to her feet and drag her to the dance floor. Zayd¡¯s already out there, grinding up against Anna. On the opposite side of the room, I see Tristan with his hands all over some third-year wearing a yellow dress. Creed is just lounging at one of the tables, but he¡¯s got a captive audience all to himself.


    I ignore them and try to have a good time with Miranda, even when Harper du Pont purposely moves over beside us so she can elbow me and whip me with her hair. Petty crap like that doesn¡¯t bother me anymore. Between the essay and the butchering of my hair, I almost crumbled, but instead I stood tall. Something as silly as this means nothing.


    After a while, I trade ces with Andrew and grab a bottle of water from the cooler near the front door. That¡¯s when I notice that Zayd, Tristan, Creed, Harper, Becky and Gena are all leaving with an entourage.


    They must be off to theke.


    ¡°We should go,¡± Miranda says, breathless as shees to stand beside me, her glitter-covered skin soaked with sweat, hand sped around Andrew¡¯s. She grabs mine, too, and pulls me out into the cool October air before I get a chance to respond.


    There are cars everywhere, and students are just piling into them at random. Miranda looks around carefully, and then selects one driven by a fourth-year girl that I don¡¯t know. Smart choice. The girl looks at me and shrugs her shoulders, too close to graduation to care maybe. Either way, we get a ride up to theke in her blue convertible, winding down the dirt road to a pic area that¡¯s already strung with lights, littered with kegs, and pounding with a strong bass beat.


    Who set this up, I have no idea.


    Tonight¡¯s party is so much more colorful than usual, but it¡¯s a little creepy too, with so many students in masks. There¡¯s a graveyard nearby that I can just vaguely see through the trees. I know from the brochure that it¡¯s a family plot for Lucas Burberry, the founder of Burberry Prep, and his descendants. Nobody¡¯s been buried in there since the fifties, but it¡¯s still eerie as hell, dressed in a nket of salty fog off the bay.


    Students are hanging out in there, too, bncing on graves, making out against the sides of mausoleums. Not my thing-though I can appreciate some of the architecture. My eyes wander away from the gothic eeriness of the graveyard, and over to the row of jack-onterns burning on the shore of theke. It looks dark and endless right now, like one wrong move and you¡¯d go tumbling through the ice-cold depths forever.


    A shiver takes over me just seconds before an arm wraps around my waist and yanks me close to a warm, sweaty body.


    ¡°You showed up at the after-party,¡± Zayd crows, clearly already on his way to being drunk. ¡°You¡¯ve got bigger balls than I thought.¡±


    ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t actually think I had balls at all,¡± I counter, reaching up with a hand to push against his chest. It¡¯s a mistake, putting my bare palm against those hard, inked muscles. My throat gets so tight it¡¯s suddenly hard to breathe. ¡°I have big ovaries, maybe.¡±


    Zayd pauses for a minute, and I can feel his heartbeat underneath the wing tattoos that cover his chest. In the center, there¡¯s a crest of some sort that reminds me vaguely of the Burberry Prep crest with the griffins on either side. And then he howls withughter and scoops me up in his arms, like he did with Anna back in the gym.


    Miranda¡¯s eyes mirror my shock as Zayd carries me over to one of the kegs where Tristan and Creed are watching some of their Inner Circle buddies face off in chugging contests. When they see him holding me, they exchange a quick nce.


    ¡°Look who has big ass ovaries!¡± he shouts, hefting me up in his arms like I weigh nothing. I¡¯m shocked, actually. I know I¡¯m short, but I¡¯m not exactly the thinnest girl in school. ¡°Working Girl came to party.¡± He spins me around and I automatically reach up to put my arms around his neck, feeling the fine hairs at the base of his scalp tickle against my skin. ¡°Do you dance, Working Girl?¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°Not really,¡± I reply, but I¡¯m now surrounded by the Idols and their Inner Circle. I feel like I¡¯ve just walked into a trap. Of course, it¡¯s hard to be upset


    with Zayd¡¯s strong, inked arms under my thighs and around my waist. His body is rock-solid and piping hot. In all the ces our bare skin touches, I burn. ¡°I try, for fun, but it¡¯s not pretty.¡±


    ¡°Kind of like you,¡± Harper interjects, dressed as a-and I don¡¯t use this word lightly because there¡¯s really nothing wrong with being a slut-slutty princess. She has a crown, a scepter, and a puffy skirt that just barely covers her underwear. The top is pink with a plunging neckline, and she¡¯s covered head to toe in sparkles. I hate to admit it, but she looks good in the outfit.


    Tristan stands beside her, dressed in a sharp as hell suit, all tailored lines and creases that could cut. I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s supposed to be until he sees me looking at him and smiles, a slow awful parting of his lips that reveals two expertly ced fangs in his mouth. Vampire, how creative. Only


    ¡­ the sight actually makes my heart palpate just a little.


    Creed is dressed in a blood-red shirt, tight ck pants, boots, and an eye patch. Pirate. I think the sword at his side might actually be real. He studies me like an insect that needs to be pinned, wings forever stilled, encased behind ss. Scary.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember you being invited to this party,¡± Becky spits out, dressed in a matching outfit to Gena Whitley. I think they¡¯re both supposed to be genies, but all they¡¯re wearing are see-through flowy pants, top knots, and bras covered in sequins, so I¡¯m not sure. ¡°Was she invited, Harper?¡±


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s invited to this party,¡± Zayd shouts with a hoot, and half the crowd cheers along with him. I think most of the people here tonight are too drunk to hate me. Miranda and Andrew hover nearby, a part of the Inner Circle but this freaking close to being pushed out of it. ¡°Everyone¡¯s invited,¡± Zayd repeats, spinning me around, and then carrying me through the crowd, toward the bonfire and the dance party happening at its edges.


    He sets me down and then stumbles a little, using my shoulder for leverage.


    Zayd blinks green eyes up at me, and then squints.


    ¡°Do you want to go swimming?¡± he asks, but he doesn¡¯t wait for me to answer, raising his fist in the air with a shout that draws the other students in. He grabs my hand and takes off for the dock, but I pull away at thest second, watching in disbelief as he jumps in with a dozen other partygoers. My heart skips a few beats as I wait for them all to surface from the inky ckness, but they do, bobbing up like apples in a barrel.


    Zayd pulls himself out of the water, soaking wet, his green hair stered to either side of his face. He¡¯s grinning as he stands up, towering over me with water dripping everywhere.


    ¡°You really are pretty with that red hair,¡± he says, and then he cups my face in two wet, cold hands and leans in, pressing his lips against mine. There¡¯s the initial shock from the cold water, and then the strange realization that I¡¯m kissing some guy I barely know, a guy that hasn¡¯t been all that nice to me to begin with. But then his lips turn to ardent heat against mine, stirring up strange feelings in my belly.


    For the briefest of instances, his tongue sweeps mine, and I feel like I¡¯m melting.


    But then someone pulls Zayd back and shoves him back into the water. Hees upughing as I stand there with my lips parted, cheeks burning. I turn and make my retreat while Zayd¡¯s friends ssh him and pretend to push him under. Probably not the safest game drunk and in the dark, but there¡¯s not a chance in hell that any one of them will listen to me.


    ¡°Did I just ¡­¡± Miranda starts, and I grimace, noticing that Andrew¡¯s also staring at me like I¡¯ve grown a second head. ¡°Did you just kiss Zayd Kaiser?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ have no idea,¡± I whisper, but of course, I do. I can still feel the tip of his tongue, scalding as it slid against my own. ¡°He¡¯s drunk off his ass,¡± I add, but Miranda¡¯s still staring at me like I¡¯ve lost my mind.


    ¡°True,¡± she hedges, shrugging her thin shoulders. ¡°Whatever. He does that to everyone when he¡¯s stered. I once saw him kiss John Hannibal on the lips after too many beers. Then they got into a fistfight and Tristan had to break them up.¡±


    My heart sinks a bit, but I push the feeling away. Zayd didn¡¯t kiss me because he has any feelings toward me. It¡¯s just something he does when he¡¯s drunk. Obviously. I mean, we don¡¯t even get along. I didn¡¯t even want to kiss him.


    Miranda, Andrew, and I get sodas from the cooler next to the parking lot and carry them into the cemetery. Someone¡¯s lit candles, and there¡¯s a group gathered around the base of one of the graves. Tristan Vanderbilt sits on top of it with a girl in hisp, one arm around her waist, the other stroking her knee.


    He¡¯s telling a ghost story of some sort, his voice so low that I can¡¯t quite make it out. We avoid their little group, which includes Harper and Becky,


    and meander through the rest of the graveyard, fingers brushing across the worn tops of h


    eadstones as we read off names and dates.

 29

    ¡°Boo,¡± Creed drawls when wee around a corner and find him sitting with a few other students, a joint in his hand. He doesn¡¯t even bother to hide it as I stare at him, lifting it to his lips and taking a drag. His blue eyes are narrowed to slits as he frowns at me before switching his attention to Miranda. ¡°You aren¡¯t getting into any trouble, are you?¡± he asks, and she gapes at him.


    ¡°Asks he who has a beer in one hand and a joint in the other? Are you kidding me?¡± Miranda puffs out her chest as her brotheres to stand beside her, ncing first at Andrew and then back at me again. ¡°Don¡¯t get all preachy on me, Creed. You¡¯re my twin, not my older brother.¡±


    ¡°So that means I can¡¯t protect you?¡± he asks, still looking at me. ¡°Why are you even hanging out with this girl? Nobody likes it. If it weren¡¯t for me, you¡¯d bemitting social suicide.¡± He hands the joint over to Andrew, and after a split-second of hesitation, he takes it, moving away from Miranda and me to sit with his friends. He gives me an apologetic sort of look, but it¡¯s okay, I understand.


    ¡°She¡¯s a good person, unlike some of the other people in this school.¡± Miranda turns to leave and Creed grabs her arm. When she snaps a look over her shoulder, his face hardens but he lets go. ¡°I bet Mom would agree with me. If she had a choice, she¡¯d swap Marnye for you in a heartbeat.¡± The edge of Creed¡¯s mouth lifts up in a snarl, but he doesn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Do your new friends know you used to be bullied when we lived in Grenadine Heights? I¡¯d think you, at least, would know better.¡±


    My eyes widen as Creed grits his teeth, but then Miranda¡¯s grabbing my arm and dragging me away from their little group.


    ¡°Andrew, fucking traitor,¡± she grumbles as we head for the exit. I know I shouldn¡¯t look back as we leave, but I do, catching Tristan¡¯s gray gaze on me. He tracks me as I go, even as he¡¯s got a girl straddling hisp, his hands cupping her ass.


    Gross.


    In their natural element, these guys are even worse than they are at school. The rest of the night, I make it a priority to avoid them. Miranda helps, showing me where to find extra pumpkins, knives, and candles. We carve jack-onterns, sip apple cider, and eat miniature candy bars from an orange


    bowl. As long as I steer clear of the Idols, everything is fine.


    Reaching up to touch what¡¯s left of my hair, I cringe. Too bad that¡¯s not an option most days.


    If I want to stay here, I¡¯m going to have to fight for my own space. I just hope it¡¯s a fight I can actually win.


    The next day, I take the off-campus pass Ms. Felton gave me, have one of the academy¡¯s cars take me into town, and buy a box of rose gold hair dye. Since the shower I took this morning washed most of the blood-red out, it takes just fine, and I find that when I look in the mirror ¡­ I actually like it.


    Take that, BeFky tter, I think, flicking off the bathroom light and heading for the mixed media room to y the academy¡¯s pedal harp. Bet I¡¯m the only student practicing their instrument tonight.


    And that¡¯s how it¡¯s going to be from now on: I¡¯m going to go above and beyond for myself. What other people do or say, I¡¯m going to let roll off of me like water off a duck¡¯s back.


    Easier said than done, right?


    The Friday after Halloween is the day I make my real stand against Becky.


    Revenge can be sweet, especially when it¡¯s only my sess that inflicts it. Orchestra auditions are after ss, held in the school theater. Everyone is wee toe and watch. Back at Lower Banks, nobody would. Okay, so maybe an anxious parent or two, a best friend wanting to lend support, but


    for the most part, nobody cared.


    Here ¡­ everyone does.


    The room is packed so full that some students are standing up in the back, watching as Mr. Carter makes his way through each student on the audition


    roster. ording to the number pinned on my shirt, I¡¯m deadst, right after Becky. We¡¯re the only two students in the school gunning for first chair in harp. Good thing, too, because there is only one chair.


    Harper is here for support, but she¡¯s not trying out. Instead, she¡¯s focused on the choir, satisfied that at least in some respect, I¡¯ll be under her thumb. Singing for the junior choir for ss credit, and trying out for the academy¡¯s performance choir group are two totally different things, but she¡¯s content to rule them both.


    ¡°Tristan is starting toe around,¡± she tells Becky as I stand there, leaning against a column and watching a petite brte girl fumble around with her flute. She¡¯s so nervous, her hands are sweating and she can barely keep hold of the instrument. ¡°I told him I was done sleeping around and asked if he wanted to make it official this summer.¡±


    Becky chuckles and adjusts the number pinned to her blouse.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m done ying around with the boys, but to snag Tristan, I¡¯d do it, too.¡± Becky pauses, and the two girls nce over at me like they¡¯ve just realized I¡¯m standing there. ¡°Getting engaged to someone like him this early and locking him down is probably a good idea.¡± My mouth tightens, but I don¡¯t turn to look at them. What do I care if one female monster wants to get engaged to another male monster? They can make little monster babies and go on to terrorize the world together. They deserve each other.


    My lips twitch as I think about Tristan, bending Kiara over the sink. Harper can have her man-whore fiance. And yet ¡­ my stomach twists, and my good humor is short-lived.


    There are some incredibly talented students in this school, and watching them y onstage is awe-inspiring. So much so that I soon forget that weird twinge of jealousy, my mind numbing to the constant chatter of the two Idol girls. Zayd is front and center in the auditorium, sitting right next to Mr. Carter. He¡¯s a student ¡®helper¡¯, along with a half-dozen fourth-years who are all in the advanced orchestra. How that jerk got to be on the panel is beyond me. He¡¯s a rock star, not a concert pianist.


    I don¡¯t think about that kiss. Bet he was too drunk to remember it anyway. Once Becky¡¯s turn rolls around, she shoves her way past me, nearly knocking me over. I let it go, gritting my teeth, and wait as she sits down to y. A hush falls over the crowd because there¡¯s not a student at this school


    -first-year or fourth-year alike-that doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with me.


    Becky inhales, tossing her blond hair over one shoulder, and shes a winning smile to the crowd. She starts to y, and I recognize it as the one and only piece Mozart ever wrote for the harp: ConFerto for Flute, Harp, and OrFhestra. It¡¯s a good choice, and one of my personal favorites. Becky, however, just doesn¡¯t have the skills to pull it off, not even with her friends from the Inner Circle apanying her.


    She¡¯s pretty when she ys, her eyes half-lidded, that evil smirk of hers wiped clean for a brief moment in time. Makes me love the harp all that much more, knowing it has the power to ward off hate. Her expression is clear and open, as if she wasn¡¯t the daughter of Satan. Well ¡­ I nce over at Harper, running her fingers through her long, brte hair andpletely ignoring her friend¡¯s performance in favor of her phone. Maybe Harper is the daughter of Satan, and Becky¡¯s just her bestie.


    Becky finishes to a standing ovation, bowing and blushing, touching a hand to her chest. When she turns to look at me, her eyes sh with darkness, and I make sure to give her a wide berth as she passes, moving onstage to the sound of booing and hissing.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Mr. Carter shouts, standing up and lifting his palms until there¡¯s silence. ¡°Next sound I hear out of someone¡¯s mouth that¡¯s anything but encouraging, and you¡¯re out.¡± He sits back down and nods for me to continue. A smile lights my face, and I take a seat.


    I¡¯ve chosen a more contemporary piece, at my own risk, but it speaks to me, and I need to feel that joy to sit up here and y in front of such a hostile audience. My eyes wander the crowd and catch on Zayd¡¯s emerald gaze, sparkling as he leans forward and rests his chin on his folded hands. Tristan and Creed are easy to spot, sitting on opposite ends of the auditorium. Their pull is equally strong, and I flick my gaze between them before refocusing on the Lyon & Healy harp in front of me. It¡¯s a beautiful instrument, easily worth more than my father¡¯s house ¡­ err, Train Car.


    Closing my eyes, I center myself and take a deep breath.


    My fingers begin to move, ying How Hill by Patrick Hawes, written for royal harpist ire Jones. The tune starts off nice and light, like sunshine through clouds, and I do my best to convey that feeling in my ying, a smile curving across my lips. Pedal harps are no joke, one of the most expensive instruments out there. To rent even a shitty one, Dad had to work


    a second job. He brought me here, to this ce, and even if I¡¯m upset with him for Parents¡¯ Weekend, I love him to bits.


    That, too, I try to put into my music, feeling the vibrations on my skin, like I¡¯m bathing in sound. The song slows, stops, and picks its way back to life, the upbeat tune reminiscent of rain on a warm summer day, feeding the parched earth. I lean into that feeling, forgetting for a moment where I am, and who¡¯s watching me.


    The song finishes with a little flourish that fades out, softens, and says good-bye with a kiss.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    Exhaling, I drop my arms to my sides and look out at the audience.


    Zayd¡¯s mouth has dropped open, and before I even get a chance to stand up, he¡¯s on his feet and pping. I¡¯m a little ¡­ shocked, to say the least. He¡¯s been nothing but rude to me, and now he¡¯s pping? Mr. Carter stands up, too, and then everyone else follows suit.


    Tristan doesn¡¯t p, and neither does Creed, but they watch me with a certain level of appreciation that¡¯s impossible to hide. My cheeks flush, and I take a small bow before scurrying offstage.


    Later that night, when the


    results are posted online ¡­ I get first chair.

 30

    After the Halloween party, and the orchestra auditions, I¡¯m left with two weeks of jibes, elbows, and crappy notes taped to my door, but that¡¯s pretty much it. I swear, I can feel the three Idol guys watching me, but mostly, I¡¯m ignored. Becky and Harper are the worst, carving the words Working Girl into my locker. When I walk up and catch them doing it, they don¡¯t even look sorry.


    Zack¡¯s been messaging me on and off, just random things, but I¡¯m so puzzled over why he¡¯s bothering to text me that I don¡¯t respond much. About a week after the auditions, Miranda is hanging out in my room and happens to see a series of textse in. She digs her ws into me and refuses to let go until I tell her everything, about Zack being the ringleader of the bullying I suffered in sixth, seventh, and eighth grade. How he was the one that found me after I took the pills. How we briefly dated.


    She leaves the subject alone for about ¡­ three days before she brings it up again. I¡¯m able to avoid her questioning for the most part by pretending I¡¯m embroiled in schoolwork. It¡¯s mostly true, too. With the workload pushed on us before our first official break of the year, I¡¯m worked to the bone. It¡¯s a relief when I turn in the final assignment of November.


    The first day of fall break is a blur of activity, students saying their goodbyes, packing trunks up and leaving in the shiny ck academy cars. I watch them go from the cozy penthouse where Miranda lives with Creed. The first time she invited me up here, I refused because I didn¡¯t want to end


    up running into that jerk. She promised he was barely here, and so far, she¡¯s been right. I haven¡¯t had a single run-in with Creed in or around the apartment.


    ¡°So you¡¯re leaving Monday?¡± I ask, and Miranda nods, stuffing her volleyball uniform into a duffel bag. The Cabots are out of the country for the rest of the month, so Miranda¡¯s going on an academy-sponsored athletics giveaway. I¡¯m not exactly the sporty type, and Dad is out of town on a job, so ¡­ I¡¯m stuck here. ¡°I feel like Harry in book one,¡± I groan, putting my face in one of the decorative pillows lining the window seat. ¡°Left alone at Hogwarts for break.¡±


    Miranda grins, putting her shiny blonde hair up in a high pony.


    ¡°Creed will be here,¡± she jokes, and I shudder. I don¡¯t even have to fake it; my disgust for him is involuntary. ¡°But I already warned him to stay away from you. He¡¯ll probably be busy with ¡­ you know, whatever it is that he does.¡± Miranda chucks her bag next to the front door just before we both hear the click of a lock. We exchange a look as it swings open and Creed enters, freezing when he spots me in his living room.


    ¡°Hey.¡± There¡¯s a dark note in that syble, those blue eyes of his sliding over to me. He takes in my rose gold hair and t facial expression, and then looks back at Miranda, closing the door behind him and then reaching up to unbutton his shirt. Unbidden, my gaze falls to his long fingers, watching as the fabric of his shirt parts and reveals smooth, hard muscles underneath. ¡°I¡¯ll be in and out. Don¡¯t worry about excusing the help.¡±


    ¡°You can go to hell,¡± Miranda snaps, putting her hands on her hips as her brother breezes by, mming his bedroom door behind him. Just before it closes, I catch a glimpse of his back, all sinuous muscle over a lean frame. Shit. When I look back at Miranda, she¡¯s gaping at me. ¡°Are you checking him out?¡± she chokes, and I¡¯m such a terrible liar that my mouth just opens and closes a couple of times. ¡°You were checking him out! And after he¡¯s been so mean to you.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ he¡¯s ¡­ I¡¯m not blind,¡± I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest. My cheeks are ming as I nce back out the window and see Tristan walking Harper and Becky out to a car. He doesn¡¯t get in though, just helps them in and closes the door before stepping back. Huh. Is he not leaving for the week either? If I end up getting stuck here with more than one Idol, this could be a worse Thanksgiving than the time Dad passed out from one tooN?velDrama.Org content.


    many beers, and the raw turkey rotted on the counter. I was only five at the time or I would¡¯ve tried to cook it myself.


    ¡°Gross,¡± Miranda mutters, shivering and shaking her head, ponytail flying. ¡°I still think you should message Zack back.¡± My mouth purses, but my phone is burning a hole in my pocket. From Zack: I¡¯m sorry about what happened with your dad. I¡¯ll be in town for Thanksgiving if you want me to piFk you up. I mean, what the hell is that invite about? My brain scrambles for an exnation, butes up nk. Zack¡¯s words to Tristan echo around in my head: save it for fall break, diFkhead. Save what? This whole situation is weird. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because he treated me like total crap for years, and then dated me behind the scenes for six months. Like, he never told a single person we were together.¡± Looking down at my hands, I pick at the edges of my nails. I could really use a new paint job. The red Icquered on for Halloween ising off in ragged pieces.


    ¡°And what exactly did you do when you were together?¡± Miranda asks, plopping down next to me on the window seat. She leans in conspiratorially, eyes shining. I¡¯m sorry to disappoint her, but there¡¯s not much to tell. Besides that, Creed¡¯s just one door away, and I¡¯m not about to spill any secrets.


    ¡°Went to the movies. Walked in the park. Kissed.¡± I shrug, and run my fingers through my hair. I¡¯m still getting used to the length, but I like the new color. The rose gold looks good on me, and the lightener that Miranda put on my brows actually turned out okay. ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re just going to ghost him then?¡± she prods, sighing and leaning back against the window. Her eyes scan the apartment, its simple but elegant white couches, the chandelier above the dining table, the kitchte. Even in Grenadine Heights, an apartment like this would cost ten times my dad¡¯s usual monthly sry. As a student dorm, it¡¯s just ¡­ excessive. Everything at Burberry Prep is excessive. I like my sses, but I¡¯m not sure how I feel about everything else.


    The door to Creed¡¯s bedroom opens before I get a chance to respond, and I gape as he walks out in a pair of gray sweats, slung low on his hips, those gorgeous V lines of his ringly obvious in the low light. They¡¯re so prominent they cast shadows. He¡¯s tugging on a wifebeater as he walks in, and I catch sight of a broad, t chest and stomach before he finally pulls it down. Pretty sure I see a tattoo, too, but it¡¯


    s hard to be sure.

 31

    ¡°If you have any sense at all, you¡¯ll steer clear of Zack Brooks,¡± Creed drawls, his words effortlessly flowing past those perfect lips of his. He opens the fridge and bends low, his long form folding in half, muscles in his upper back and shoulders tensing as he rummages around for something to drink. ¡°He¡¯s no good.¡±


    ¡°Like you are?¡± I snap, feeling a hot warmth rush through me. It¡¯s an unfamiliar burn, one that makes me shift in difort.


    Creed stands back up, pushing white-blonde hair from his forehead, eyes heavy and half-lidded. He has a can of soda in one hand, a nk, bored look on his face.


    ¡°Did I ever say I was? Make no mistake, Charity: I don¡¯t like you. I¡¯ve been pretty clear about my feelings, and my agenda. So take what I¡¯m saying into consideration: Zack Brooks is bad news.¡± He moves into the middle of the room, and cracks the top on the can, looking at me over the rim as he takes a drink.


    ¡°Fuck off, Creed,¡± Miranda snaps, but he ignores her, standing there and staring at me. Things have felt different since the Halloween party; I can feel it now as he looks at me, and sweat begins to bead on the back of my neck. When she gets no response from her brother, Miranda sighs and pushes a few strands of hair off her forehead. ¡°Is Tristan staying for the week?¡±N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°Yeah, why?¡± Creed asks, and I realize with a start that I actually like the sound of his voice. You know, when he¡¯s not reading my most private thoughts aloud to the world. ¡°You two have something you want to talk to me about?¡± The way his voice cools as he speaks is impressive, conveying about a million different emotions that are invisible in that bored princely face of his. The only noticeable change in his expression is the narrowing of his eyes.


    ¡°Just ¡­ when you and Zayd and Tristan are left alone together, bad things happen.¡± The way Creed smiles at his sister¡¯s words makes that statement so much more terrifying. All three of the guys are going to be here this week? Fantastic.


    ¡°Mm.¡± Creed looks to me again, and I try not to notice that his nipples are slightly hard beneath his white wifebeater. I can see the shadow of them beneath the thin fabric, too. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force my attention back to his face. ¡°Zack might be around, you know, whether you ghost him or not.¡± He takes another sip of his soda, staring at me from those ice-blue eyes of his.


    ¡°What would Zack be doing here?¡± I ask, and Creed scoffs, shaking his head at me.


    ¡°Tell him to go to hell, transfer out of this school, and I¡¯ll make sure you get into Grenadine Heights High. What do you think about that?¡± My mouth pops open, but he holds up a hand before I can respond. I¡¯m shaking, and there¡¯s this weird twisty feeling in my stomach again, but I don¡¯t have time to analyze it. ¡°I¡¯m not doing any of this for you. This is for Miranda.¡±


    ¡°Sending my one and only girlfriend away because you don¡¯t like her worth is somehow a boon to me?¡± Miranda snaps, but Creed¡¯s already turning away, pausing in his doorway with those long, elegant fingers of his resting against the doorjamb. The way he¡¯s staring at me makes me want to fidget, but I force myself to sit still and stare back.


    ¡°This offersts until Monday. You have two days to figure out what you¡¯re going to do.¡± Creed smiles at me, a slow curving twist of lips that makes my stomach burst into butterflies. I know he¡¯s cruel, and I¡¯m no masochist, but I can¡¯t help the strange flutters of excitement I get when he looks at me. ¡°This is my final offer.¡±


    ¡°Or what?¡± I ask, lifting my chin in defiance. Creed ignores me, slipping into his room like a shadow and mming the door. After a few moments, we both hear the slow, sensual sounds of a man pleasuring himself.


    ¡°Oh gross!¡± Miranda yells, mming her palms over her ears. ¡°We might be twins, but that¡¯s serious TMI, you asshole!¡± She stands up, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me into the hall.


    But I can¡¯t deny that those sounds are going to stick with me for a long, long time.


    Damn. Maybe I really am a masochist?


    On Monday, I finally get up the courage to text Zack. The very fact that Creed¡¯s trying to put me off of him makes me want to keep going. Stupid, I know, but anything that pisses the Idols off makes me happy.


    I don¡¯t have any ns on Thanksgiving, I type out, considering my words for a moment. I wouldn¡¯t mind having someone around to eat turkey and


    pumpkin pie with. Shooting the text off before I can question myself, I fall back on my bed with a sigh. Miranda¡¯s gone, but Andrew¡¯s here ¡­ somewhere. I consider going to find him and decide that I may as well hit The Mess for lunch.


    As far as I can tell, there are maybe a dozen students on campus, possibly less. There¡¯s a skeleton staff of cooks, cleaners, and teachers. Ms. Felton and Mr. Carter are on duty, and I figure it couldn¡¯t hurt to get in some extra harp practice over the week. I mean, what else am I going to do? Sit on my phone and scroll Instagram all day?


    Slipping into a pair of holey jeans, a pink tank, and a leather jacket, I head out into the hall and make my way around the corner, past the chapel entrance, and down towards The Mess. I don¡¯t see Andrew, but I do shoot him a quick text to see if he wants to eat with me.


    Just before I head into the restaurant, I catch the faintest blur of green, and do a double take. Zayd is making his way down the hallway like he¡¯s on a mission. Even though I know I¡¯m being stupid, I decide to peek around the corner and see what he¡¯s up to. I mean, without girls to hit on, me to bully, or schoolwork to focus on, wha


    t do these guys even do?

 32

    Zayd heads straight down the hall and out the back door that leads to the outdoor amphitheater, and the small staff parking lot. Against my better judgement, I head the same way. I figure if he catches me following him, I¡¯ll just say I¡¯m going for a walk to the pond to read. I¡¯ve got my phone, and a Kindle app, so who¡¯s to say I¡¯m not?


    The back doors are covered in stained ss, images of weeping angels etched with bright colors and lined with lead. They let light in, but block the view from outside. So I wait a good minute or so to be safe, and then slip out, heading down the graveled path until I¡¯m in sight of the parking lot.


    ¡°Well, shit, Vanderbilt, I¡¯m impressed,¡± Zayd whistles, tucking his inked fingers in the pockets of his skintight ck jeans. He circles a ck vintage car with his brows raised, sliding a look over to Tristan Vanderbilt as he leans against the hood.


    ¡°I suppose you needed a new car after you wrapped thest one around a tree,¡± Creed drawls, already lounging in the car with his arms spread open across the seatbacks. ¡°How much did this set daddy back?¡±


    ¡°Do you really care?¡± Tristan asks as Zayd lights up a cigarette, pausing near the front of the sleek little sportscar. ¡°It¡¯s a 1961 Ferrari Spider. Price is irrelevant. Besides, my dad has enough cars. He can spare one for the week.¡±


    ¡°And if he finds out you took it?¡± Creed asks, but the look Tristan levels on him proves to me without a doubt that the three of them might be passably friendly, but they¡¯re not exactly friends. ¡°I mean, he can¡¯t be thrilled with you, considering your grades.¡± Creed smiles, but it¡¯s a nasty expression when turned on Tristan. ¡°Second ce just means first ce loser, right? And to some chick who went to public school? How humiliating.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you let me worry about my dad?¡± Tristan says, his voice like dark poison. It makes my skin tingle, and my brain goes to ces I¡¯d really rather it didn¡¯t. Tristan¡¯s hands wrapped around that Kiara girl¡¯s hips, his FoFk thrusting between her legs. Shaking my head, I throw the image off, putting my palm t against the stone wall in the alcove. ¡°You have more important things to think about: like how I¡¯m going to win Harper for sophomore year. After all, she¡¯s practically begged an engagement ring off of me.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess your family needs the money, huh?¡± Creed replies, his blond hair fluttering in the wind. His smile is wicked. ¡°We¡¯ll see how the week goes though, won¡¯t we? Don¡¯t count your bitches before they hatch.¡±


    ¡°Clever,¡± Zayd whistles, and then he throws his head back withughter.


    The door to the amphitheater opens behind me, and one of the janitors-I think his name is Mark-steps out with a push broom. All three guys swing their gazes his way, locking onto me.


    Shit.


    Well, now that I¡¯ve been spotted, I can¡¯t just stand here, and turning around to go back inside feels like running, so ¡­ I make myself start off down the path, veering off at thest second to stand between Tristan and Zayd.


    They just stare at me while Zayd smokes, Creed lounges, and Tristan¡¯s eyes narrow.


    ¡°Nice car,¡± I say, exhaling sharply and tucking my hands into my pockets. For the life of me, I can¡¯t figure out why I walked over here. I must be crazy. It¡¯s like there¡¯s this string inside of me, tugging me toward these crazy assholes.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you climb in?¡± Tristan asks, managing to keep his usual hatred and disdain from his voice. He towers over me, wearing a ck wool coat, ck button-up, and cks. He looks thirty, not fifteen. But in a good way, mature, mysterious. His raven-dark hair swirls in the wind, and heThis material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    brushes it back. ¡°It¡¯s the nicest car you¡¯ll ever sit in. May as well take advantage.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a jerk,¡± I spit out, feeling that hot anger surge up in me. ¡°What on earth makes you think I¡¯d ever get into your car?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re curious about what we¡¯re doing,¡± Zayd says, his voice husky, his green eyes shimmering with mischief. He¡¯s wearing a leather jacket, but it¡¯s much edgier than mine, with a dozen random zippers, patches, and pins. He finishes his cigarette, tosses it aside, and crushes it with his boot before climbing onto the trunk and putting his boots in between the two front seats. ¡°It¡¯s why you followed me, right?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡±


    ¡°You can sit on myp,¡± Creed says,pletely deadpan. He stares at me, searching my expression as I look between the three of them and weigh my choices. I can turn around and go back inside which is probably the smart decision. Or I can risk going with three guys that hate me just to satisfy my curiosity. My tongue runs over my lower lip


    in thought.


    ¡°Get in,¡± Tristan repeats, stepping close to me. He smells like cinnamon and peppermint, and I feel those little butterflies in my stomach take flight. They¡¯re idiots, those insects of emotions, reacting to the beauty in Tristan¡¯s face instead of the anger in his soul.


    After a moment, I give in and head over to the passenger side door, opening it and looking at Creed¡¯sp with a wary eye. This is weird, Marnye, I think, but I shove the feeling aside and take a seat before I can think too hard about it.


    Creed¡¯s arm curls around my waist, and that familiar knot in my chest tightens up. My heart is pounding, pulse racing, as he closes the door, and I sit perched on hisp, facing toward Tristan as he climbs into the driver¡¯s seat. When I shift slightly on hisp, Creed¡¯s fingers dig into my side.


    ¡°Don¡¯t wiggle like that; you¡¯ll give me a hard-on,¡± he drawls, like his words are no big deal. Me, I gape and I wonder if I¡¯ve just lived a sheltered life, or if these guys are just hedonistic as fuck.


    ¡°Seriously? I thought I was just a useless charity case?¡± Creed shrugs and leans in close, putting his lips near that sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder. His breath is warm, but I shiver when it feathers across my skin.


    ¡°Even whores have their purpose.¡± I raise my hand to p him, but he grabs my wrist, squeezing just hard enough to make me cry out. As soon as he releases me, I finish what I started and crack my palm against his


    cheek.

 33

    Tristanughs, this low, cruel sound, as he starts up the sweet purr of the engine and takes off at such a rapid speed I¡¯m worried Zayd¡¯s going to tumble off the back into the gravel.


    He just hollers in excitement and lifts his arms in the air like he¡¯s on a rollercoaster.


    Tristan does a few wild donuts on the gravel, making my stomach lurch and causing Creed¡¯s arm to tighten even further around me as we¡¯re thrown around inside the little sports car.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a whore,¡± I grind out finally, when we stop spinning and take off down one of the dirt roads that lead deeper into the campus. Most of the third and fourth year sses are held in outbuildings spread throughout the vast acreage of Burberry Prep, but as a first year, there¡¯s hardly any reason toe back here, so it¡¯s all new to me.


    ¡°That¡¯s right: you¡¯re a virgin,¡± Creed amends, but he doesn¡¯t sound any less disdainful. ¡°My mistake.¡±


    ¡°How ¡­¡± I start, and then realize I should¡¯ve denied the usation. My mouth ttens into a tight line as Tristan smirks from the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°How fucking cliche. You really are pathetic, aren¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°Pathetic? Because I don¡¯t screw everything that walks? If you ask me, you¡¯re the one who¡¯s pathetic. Have you ever cared about a single girl you¡¯ve slept with?¡± Tristan¡¯s hands tighten on the wheel, but he doesn¡¯t respond, acting like I¡¯m invisible again. I can¡¯t decide what¡¯s worse, being mocked or being ignored.


    ¡°Some guys have a thing for popping cherries,¡± Zayd remarks absently, like we¡¯re discussing the weather. ¡°Never been my thing. Sorry, but it¡¯s so not attractive. I like a girl who knows what she¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°Guess I¡¯m not your type then,¡± I snap back, and he howls withugher. Pig. Turning away, I try to focus on the changing leaves of the trees, the gorgeous yellow, orange, and red that dots thendscape, broken up by greenwns, and small brick buildings with gold-letter signage.


    ¡°Guess not,¡± Zayd murmurs, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees.


    We rumble down the road, past the ssrooms, taking a sharp left just before we hit the athletic fields, courts, and stadiums. There¡¯s one for every sport: baseball,crosse, golf, track and field, tennis, football, ser, cross country, hockey, basketball, squash, wrestling, swimming, and riflery. It¡¯d be impressive, if I cared at all about sports.


    After a while, Tristan turns on the stereo in the car, and a semi-familiar voice purrs out.


    It¡¯s Zayd¡¯s band.


    ¡°Turn that shit off,¡± Creed snaps, and Zayd scowls from behind him. ¡°Really? Screw you, dude.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than your dad¡¯s crappy music, but it still sucks,¡± Tristan adds, and Zayd¡¯s face darkens several shades. He runs a tattooed hand over his face as Tristan changes over to a different song, some hip hop track that I don¡¯t recognize.


    We end up pulling into a small parking lot behind the main lodge at Lucas Lake, and my brows crinkle as Tristan parks next to the rear entrance.


    ¡°Why did we drive the back way if we were justing up here?¡± I ask, and I get looked at like I¡¯m an idiot.


    ¡°Because we¡¯re doing horrible, horrible things to you here, and we don¡¯t want anyone to know where we¡¯re at.¡± Tristan looks at me with those dark eyes, his full lips in a t line, and even though my heart leaps in my chest, and a rush of difortes over me, I get the idea that maybe this is his idea of a joke. As a young woman, I don¡¯t really find it all that funny.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Don¡¯t joke like that,¡± I snap, my skin breaking out in goose bumps as I start to wonder whether this was a good idea or not. Zaydughs at me again, hopping out of the car and then reaching in to pull me from Creed¡¯s arms. He tosses me over his shoulder and smacks me in the ass.


    ¡°Chill out, Working Girl. We¡¯re just here to party and gamble, that¡¯s it.¡± He carries me over to the steps and sets me down while I debate punching him in the face.


    ¡°Did you seriously just touch my ass?¡± My face is ming, and I don¡¯t know whether to hit him or verbally ream him or what. Before I get a chance to do either, the sound of carsing from the academy¡¯s south entrance cracks the still air, and I raise my eyebrows as a good two dozen cars rumble into the parking lot, filling up every avable space and then some. It¡¯s like Tetris, but with million dor cars. The cheapest thing here is a Cadic Escde with the sports package.


    The door to an orange McLaren opens, and out steps Zack.


    My mouth drops open at the sight of him, his dark eyes sweeping me and narrowing. He flicks his gaze from Zayd to Creed to Tristan, and then back to me again. He doesn¡¯t look very happy to see me here, or with them.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he says, his voice like cool shadows as he steps closer, his huge frame blocking out the rest of the crowd. I¡¯m relieved to see other girls, and I realize how freaking lucky I am that these guys aren¡¯t rapists. After my time living in Lower Banks, I should know better than to take chances like this. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I could ask you the same thing,¡± I start, looking him up and down in his letterman jacket, jeans, and ck t-shirt. The cotton fabric stretches across his broad chest, emphasizing how toned he got over the summer. The boy I¡¯m looking at now is more like a man than the kid Ist saw at LBMS. ¡°I texted you back to confirm Thanksgiving ns.¡± He tucks his hands in his pockets, and I meet his gaze again, realizing absently that Tristan, Creed, and Zayd are all staring at me.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a chance to look at my phone,¡± I hedge as Tristan slips out of his jacket and tosses it into the backseat of his car before heading up the steps toward the lodge. He unlocks the doors with a pair of keys from his pocket, and the crowd starts hauling in duffel bags and suitcases.


    Um, what?


    ¡°Your hair,¡± he starts, but he doesn¡¯t exactly finish his sentence, and I¡¯m left wondering if he likes it or not. I mean, it doesn¡¯t matter what he thinks, but it¡¯d be kind of nice if he did, right? Zack turns back to his car, yanks out a duffel bag, and carries it toward the steps, pausing briefly next to me. Our eyes meet, and a crackle of electricity snaps in the air between us.


    I¡¯m having trouble remembering to breathe.


    ¡°Looks nice,¡± Zack finally adds, and then he¡¯s on his way past me, and I¡¯m left gaping behind him.


    ¡°I bet you Lizzie shows up tonight,¡± Zayd tells Creed as Zack takes his bag up the steps, ncing back at me onest time before disappearing inside.


    ¡°Bet me what?¡± Creed asks, leaning casually against the exterior wall of the lodge with his arms crossed over his chest. ¡°If you say those cowboy boots your dad got you at auction, then you¡¯re on.¡±


    Zayd gapes for a moment, and then snaps his mouth shut, letting the edge of his lips curl up in a small grin.


    ¡°You want to be a cowboy, baby?¡± he drawls,ughing and tugging at his lip ring for a moment.


    ¡°I want to fuck a cowgirl, that¡¯s what,¡± Creed amends, as I look between


    the two of them with scrunched brows.

 34

    ¡°It¡¯s a deal, but if I win, youy off Becky tter for the rest of the year. She¡¯s mine.¡± Creed shrugs, and then holds out a hand. Both boys shake, and then I hear Zayd mumble idiot under his breath.


    ¡°Could someone please tell me what¡¯s going on?¡± I ask as Zayd throws an arm over my shoulder and turns me around to head inside. Even though I¡¯m not particrly thrilled about him touching me, he seems to do it to everyone, so I let it go. ¡°Are we even allowed in here?¡±


    ¡°Allowed, that¡¯s an interesting word.¡± Zayd pulls me into the cool darkness of the lodge, and I can see that someone¡¯s already started a fire. To be fair, it¡¯s pretty chilly out here, and it¡¯ll take the heater a while to get to all the rooms. This ce is massive. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry so much about that, Charity.¡±


    ¡°My name is fucking Marnye,¡± I grind out, but I know it¡¯s useless. Doesn¡¯t mean I have to ept them calling me that, though it¡¯s preferable to Working Girl. ¡°Who are all these people?¡±


    ¡°Friends.¡± Zayd winks at a dark-haired girl who¡¯s ring at me from the direction of the sliding doors. Her eyes track our movements as Zayd leads me into the kitchen, and finally drops his arm, unpacking a couple bottles of alcohol from one of the paper bags on the counter. ¡°From other schools.¡± He unscrews the top on a bottle of rum, tips it to his lips, and then offers it over to me. I raise an eyebrow and politely decline. ¡°Suit yourself,¡± he grumbles, shrugging his shoulders and then grinning as a pair of guys in letterman jackets appear and start handing out high fives and some of those awkward man hugs where they p each other in the back.


    ¡°Marnye.¡± It¡¯s Zack again. I don¡¯t even have to turn around to know who¡¯s talking to me. His voice is far too distinct, cutting through the murmur of the other students. When I spin to look at him, he¡¯s shed his jacket, showing off the thick, hard muscles in his arms, the wide breadth of his shoulders. Those brown eyes of his snag mine, and my heart shudders in my chest. ¡°Are you staying the night?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not sleeping here,¡± Tristan scoffs,ing out of the back hallway, his silver eyes focused on Zack¡¯s face. He¡¯s rolled his sleeves to the elbow, and as I watch, he untucks his shirt, shing a bit of the skin above his waistband. I catch the briefest glimpse of a tattoo there, but then he covers it up and I¡¯m left wondering if I imagined it. ¡°We¡¯ll go back to the main campus.¡± The smile he gives Zack reminds me of a ck widow spider,


    calcting and self-serving. There¡¯s no room for emotion in that expression. ¡°Why? Were you hoping to get Charity to stay in your room?¡±


    Zack doesn¡¯t say anything, but his eyes move from Tristan to me, like he thinks there¡¯s something going on between us. Nothing could be further from the truth. Honestly, just the idea makes my stomach hurt. Tristan is, well, forck of a better word, he¡¯s mean.


    ¡°I¡¯m confused,¡± I start as Tristan looks me over and smirks. ¡°What festivities? Isn¡¯t this just a party?¡±


    ¡°You brought her here, and she doesn¡¯t even know what¡¯s going on?¡± Zack snaps, his voice angry and thick with emotion. ¡°What the hell, Vanderbilt?¡±


    ¡°We were getting to that, Brooks,¡± Tristan snaps back, his voice like whish, striking through the room like lightning. He could probablymand armies, this guy. Considering his penchant for cruelty, that scares me. I rub my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans. There¡¯s clearly a lot going on here that I¡¯m not understanding, and I get the feeling I won¡¯t understand it until one of these cryptic assholes sits down and exins it to me.


    That¡¯s not likely to happen either, I gather.


    ¡°Bet she hates you by the end of the week,¡± Tristan purrs, smiling like the cat who¡¯s licked-and maybe also fucked-the cream. ¡°Once she finds out what you did, that girl you killed ¡­¡±Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Jesus Christ, man,¡± Zack snarls, and I raise my eyebrows. Even in the years he picked on me, he was never angry, just cold and matter-of-fact. Seeing him get angry is pretty terrifying. And ¡­ wait, what did Tristan just say?


    ¡°You killed somebody?¡± I choke, and Zack shakes his head, running his fingers through his chocte hair. He looks like he¡¯s about to kill Tristan, that¡¯s for sure.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Zack continues as Tristan makes himself a rum and coke, and then heads outside, leaving more questions than answers in his wake. I stare at Zack for a moment, waiting for him to exin further, but instead, he just turns and walks away, mming the door to one of the bedrooms.


    Wow.


    I¡¯m really out of the loop, aren¡¯t I?


    Zayd¡¯s busy setting up kegs in the corner, and Creed is nowhere to be seen. So even though I¡¯m most definitely not friends with any of these guys, I seek Tristan out on the deck, his gray eyes the same color as the sky above theke.


    ¡°I owe you an exnation,¡± he says, his voice as smooth as silk. Just the sound of it makes me shiver. I try really hard not to notice the swell of muscle in his forearms, just a peek at how much strength must be in that tight body of his. He has a niFe ass, too, for a psyFhopath. I mean, he must be one, right, considering the way he acts?


    ¡°You really do,¡± I start, softening slightly. How stupid am I? I forgive too easily, I know that. Dad once told me that when he was super drunk, that I forgave my mom too easily for leaving us. She found her way to greener pastures, but I always tried to keep it in my mind that she tried to take me with her. Tried. And then ¡­ dumped me at a rest stop at age three because her newest boyfriend didn¡¯t like kids. My eyes close against the pain, and when I open them, Tristan is staring down at me with that stony expression of his.


    ¡°I said if yousted the first week, I¡¯d tell you about that girl I fucked.¡± My mouth drops open, but I¡¯m seriously speechless. Every time I think these guys have hit a new low, they plummet even further down my list of respectability. They¡¯ve been so horrible to me, that even if they started farting rainbows, wearing halos, and gifting me the world, I don¡¯t think we could ever truly be friends.


    ¡°Believe it or not, I don¡¯t care what you did with that girl or any other.¡± I cross my arms over my chest and take a step away from his chilly peppermint scent. The wind teases his hair around his cruel face, but there¡¯s not much left of mine to tease. Sadly, I lift my fingers to the back of my neck. No more tumbling brte waves.


    ¡°You were the one that asked,¡± Tristan continues, turning to face me, like he¡¯s scented a challenge and now can¡¯t bear to let go. His eyes glimmer like flint, hard but ready to spark and start mes. ¡°I assumed you were curious because you wanted to know what I could do for you.¡±


    ¡°Dude, are you talking about your conquests again?¡± Zayd asks, dragging a keg out to the deck and standing up to wipe some sweat off of his face with his shirt. After a moment, he just shrugs and takes it offpletely, shing all those colorful tattoos of his. When he turns around, I look again, and I¡¯m sure I see it this time: there¡¯s an infinity tattoo on his right hip.


    So ¡­ Zayd definitely has one. Pretty sure I saw one on Creed. Tristan, too.


    What the hell?


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just tell her about the girls you aren¡¯t banging? It¡¯d be a shorter list.¡± Tristan smirks, but the way he looks at Zayd isn¡¯t pleasant. There¡¯s some rivalry there for sure. Zayd looks between me and him for a moment, and then shakes his head. ¡°Creed¡¯s up to something, and I have a feeling it¡¯s nothing good.¡± He pauses as Andrewes out onto the deck.


    Right away, I can feel it, a tension between Andrew and Tristan. Thetter man¡¯s fists curl tight, knuckles whitening. With the other hand, he sips his drink.


    ¡°Marnye?¡± Andrew asks, blue eyes wide with surprise. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°We invited her,¡± Tristan says, stone-cold. He looks down at me, and his expression morphs into something savage, but ardent, too. When he leans close and his lips brush my cheek, warmth blooms in my chest. ¡°Try to survive the party, and we¡¯ll see what you¡¯re really made of.¡± He stalks off into the house, leaving me alone to the wolves.


    I swear, everyone¡¯s staring at me.


    ¡°You keep saying you don¡¯t drink, but maybe tonight, you should give it a try.¡± Zayd holds out a red Solo cup, green eyes focused on me. ¡°You might need it. Don¡¯t worry: Creed never tries the same trick twice. No breathalyzers tonight.¡±


    He drops the cup in my hand, and then turns away to focus on his friends.


    I pour the liquid out in the bushes next to the deck and steel myself for a long, long night.

 35

    Luckily, not everyone at the party is a maniacal psycho, and I end up sitting around a table with a bunch of drunk football yers, kicking their asses at various boardgames. I¡¯mughing so hard, my stomach hurts, and for the first time since I got to this school, I almost feel normal again.


    Inside though, I know it won¡¯tst long.


    And I¡¯m right about that. Around eleven o¡¯clock is when the shit starts, and Creedes sweeping through the lodge and onto the deck. He turns the surround sound system off, and the entire crowd goes quiet.


    ¡°Derrick Barr,¡± I hear him say as I scramble to my feet and push through the crowd until I¡¯m standing on the deck, finding Creed facing off against this huge guy in a red football jersey. I move around the circle that¡¯s formed until I can see his face. He¡¯s not smiling.


    ¡°Shit, here we go,¡± Zayd murmurs, clearly drunk. His eyes though are still sharp. He takes another drink from his stic cup, and then lifts it up in a salute. ¡°Good riddance, Derrick, it was nice knowing you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, but Zayd just shrugs, standing so close to me that I can feel the heat from his body. Underneath the slight smell of alcohol and tobo, I get a whiff of geranium and sage, this sweet-and-savory scent that makes my nose tingle.


    ¡°Creed¡¯s about to destroy someone,¡± he says, and then pauses, like he¡¯s just thought of something. Zayd turns fully to look at me, cocking one dark brow. His hair might be sea green, but his brows are still ck. ¡°When


    Creed decides it¡¯s time to end someone, he does it with one, clean cut. Tristan, he likes to y with his food. I¡¯ve never seen the pair of them fail before ¡­ except with you.¡± Zayd cocks his head to one side. ¡°Holy shit. Except for you, huh, Working Girl?¡±


    I purse my lips at the nickname, but turn my attention back to the scene on the deck.


    Creed is barefoot, but still dressed in the shirt and cks that make up the academy uniform. His white-blond hair gets tousled by the wind, but the rest of him is still, unmoving.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been texting my sister?¡± he asks, and I see both Andrew and Tristan perk up on the opposite side of the circle. Andrew¡¯s friends with Miranda and me, so that makes sense. But Tristan? I still can¡¯t figure out his intentions toward her. He clearly dislikes her brother with a passion.


    ¡°So what about it? She¡¯s a big girl,¡± Derrick says, tossing back his cup and then crushing the stic. He chucks it off the edge of the deck and into the darkness which bothers the crap out of me-I can¡¯t stand littering-but I¡¯m rooted to the spot, looking between the two men.


    ¡°Did she give you permission to share her photos with your friends?¡± Creed continues, his blue eyes narrowing to slits. Damn. I thought he hated me, but the ice in his voice is about as warm as deep space. Derrick runs his fingers through his frost-tipped hair, his face tight, like he knows he messed- up big time, but isn¡¯t sure how to fix it. ¡°Well, I asked you a question, you fucking Neanderthal. Yes or no?¡±


    ¡°What do you care what I do with your sister?¡± Derrick starts to move away when Creed¡¯s handshes out and grabs him around the shoulder.


    ¡°You don¡¯t leave until I¡¯m finished with you,¡± he says, and he¡¯s no longer drawling in thatzy, royal way of his. Instead, he sounds like he¡¯s about to lose his shit. ¡°I¡¯ve made it very clear: my sister is off-limits.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, your sister¡¯s a whore,¡± Derrick says with a brutishugh, shaking Creed¡¯s hand off. He starts toward the sliding doors, and I think for a brief moment there that Creed¡¯s actually going to let him walk off. Silly me.


    ¡°Your brother, Darryn Barr, how¡¯s he been doingtely?¡± Creed asks, and the ice in his voice seriously gives me goose bumps. It¡¯s an awful, awful sound. Derrick pauses, but he doesn¡¯t turn around. ¡°Because from what I¡¯ve seen, he¡¯s been enjoying his new team members more than usual.¡± Creed slides his phone from his pocket, and sends out a mass text that pings every


    phone at that party-including mine. I wonder how he got my number, but then, I figure he could¡¯ve easily stolen it from Miranda¡¯s phone.


    Oh Miranda, I think, feeling my stomach clench. It doesn¡¯t take a genius to figure out what sort of pictures might have been shared around. Why didn¡¯t she tell me? A niggle of hurt worms its way into my chest, but I do my best to ignore it. We¡¯ve only been friends for three months. It makes sense that there¡¯d be things she hasn¡¯t shared with me. After all, I haven¡¯t told her about my mother and the rest stop. Or how she only lives thirty minutes from me, but I¡¯ve only seen her a handful of times in thest twelve years.


    We all have secrets we can¡¯t or won¡¯t share. It¡¯s human nature.


    I don¡¯t look at my phone, but I can see Zayd holding his. There¡¯s a picture of some guy in a football jersey sucking another guy¡¯s dick. My brows go up in surprise as Derrick snarls and spins on Creed.


    ¡°Where the fuck did you get this?¡± Derrick demands, getting up in Creed¡¯s face. Creed is a few inches shorter, and not quite as wide as Derrick, but to be fair, Derrick is built like a pickup truck, and he¡¯s got a bit of a belly. If it came down to a fistfight, it¡¯d be a pretty even match.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to watch this, you know,¡± Zack says, making me jump when his voice sounds from beside me. I nce over, but his dark gaze is focused solely on Creed and Derrick. ¡°If you want me to take you back to campus, I can do that.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡± I cross my arms over my chest to ward off thete evening chill, and find that I¡¯m short of breath, an anxious energy taking over the crowd that¡¯s quickly bing infectious.


    ¡°I have plenty more where that came from, if you¡¯d like to see,¡± Creed says, lifting his phone again. Derrick snatches it from his hand, chucks it onto the floor, and crushes the screen with his sneaker before he gets back in Creed¡¯s face again.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to regret that shit,¡± he snarls, but Creed doesn¡¯t seem concerned, not in the least.


    ¡°Mm, I don¡¯t think so.¡± He tucks his fingers into the pockets of his red cks, and lifts his chin. ¡°Somehow, I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s you that¡¯s going to regret this moment for years toe.¡± His face hardens up, mouth a thin sh of ice, and then he smiles. I have to say, between Tristan and Creed ¡­ well, if I saw either of them in a dark alley, I¡¯d run like hell. ¡°You¡¯re out of the Infinity Club.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t make that decision!¡± Derrick roars, but Creed just shakes his head.


    ¡°But I can, and I did, so get in your car and fuck all the way off.¡± Derrickunches himself at Creed, but Miranda¡¯s twin is a lot craftier than he looks. He sidesteps the attack, letting Derrick stumble, and then prepares himself for the big man to swing around. When Derrick throws a punch, Creed is there to catch it. He uses Derrick¡¯s own weight and momentum against him, ducking low and thenunching the other man into the air with his back.


    Derrick flips over the side of the deck andnds in the bushes with a curse, Creed standing over him, limned in porchlight.


    ¡°Myron, get the gun,¡± Creed says, and a dark-haired boy in the crowd nods before moving off. Gun? What gun? Oh my god, he isn¡¯t going to shoot him, is he? My throat gets tight, and my hands curl into fists. There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m going to stand here and watch some kid-no matter ho


    w big an asshole he is-get shot.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.

 36

    But when Myrones back, he¡¯s got a tattoo machine in his hand, a box of gloves under his arm, and a small stic bin with bandages and other various first-aid supplies in it.


    ¡°Remove his mark,¡± Creed says, moving away from the edge of the deck as the crowd ripples, and the whispers start up. On his way back inside, those blue eyesnd on mine and stick there. Something strange travels through me, but I don¡¯t know how to identify it, so I ignore it. I¡¯ve been doing that a lottely. ¡°Come upstairs with me,¡± he says, and my eyes widen to marbles. Come upstairs?! Is this asshole propositioning me? ¡°We¡¯re going to start a game.¡±


    The crowd mumbles appreciatively, but then Derrick is back up anding for Creed again.


    ¡°You¡¯re just as much of a bitch as your whore sister,¡± he growls, spittle and blood from his fall flecking his lips. ¡°Next time I get a hold of her, it¡¯ll be more than just a few pictures I¡¯ll be taking.¡±


    Creed turns around oh-so slowly, but he doesn¡¯t get a chance to step in before Tristan¡¯s there, just inches from Derrick¡¯s face.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°You¡¯re finished with the Club, Derrick.¡± Tristan¡¯s de gray eyes narrow, and I almost-almost-feel sorry for Derrick. Being on the receiving end of that stare is not a pleasant experience. ¡°Your father¡¯s already being investigated by the FBI for moneyundering.¡± Tristan smiles like a shark, all teeth and primal, driving hunger.


    ¡°You ¡­¡± Derrick stutters, eyes widening. ¡°You set this up.¡±


    One of those perfectly arched dark brows goes up, and Tristan¡¯s smile morphs into a sneer.


    ¡°You think I forced your father to divert the interest from his clients¡¯ ounts into a trust in the Cayman Inds? Mm, that¡¯s a little beyond my paygrade I¡¯m afraid. Unfortunately for you, Derrick, you¡¯re about to be friendless, moneyless, and outcast, and I didn¡¯t have to do a thing.¡±


    Myron steps forward, a pair of cktex gloves on his hands, and nods toward a chair that¡¯s been ced in the center of the deck.


    ¡°Sit down andply willingly, or see how easily it is for you to be overwhelmed by a mob.¡± Tristan just stands there, waiting, as a muscle works in Derrick¡¯s jaw, and his eyes dart back and forth across the crowd. Nobody¡¯s smiling anymore, and a distinct icy chill sweeps over the group.


    For a minute there, I think Derrick¡¯s really going to do it, that he¡¯s going to make a run for it. But eventually he sits down and tears his jersey over his head, scowling and shaking, his teeth clenched so hard they look like they might crack.


    Myron kneels down, and starts to swab at the area above Derrick¡¯s right hip with a disinfectant wipe. That¡¯s when I see it: the infinity tattoo. A tingling starts in the base of my neck, and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself as I watch the scene unfold. Myron cleans the area, and then positions the tattoo machine near the infinity symbol, turning it on and filling the sudden silence with the mechanical buzzing.


    I stand up on my tiptoes, straining to see what design he might be inking into Derrick¡¯s skin. It only takes a few minutes, and then Myron¡¯s wiping the excess ink off with a clean paper towel. He stands up and hands his tattoo machine over to someone else before bandaging up the spot.


    A dark ck line runs horizontally down the center of the infinity symbol, slicing it in half. As simple as it is, there¡¯s something violent about it, severing the original design like that.


    ¡°Get up and get out.¡± Tristan stands stone-still as Derrick reces his jersey and heads inside, an entourage following behind him to make sure he grabs his duffel bag and leaves. I beat the crowd by running around the side of the lodge, so I can get a sneak peek at the parking lot.


    Derrick climbs into a yellow Aston Martin and peels out of the driveway with the shriek of his horn, and a middle finger. I stand there in the shadows as the dust settles, and then jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder.


    Spinning around, I find Tristan standing far too close to me.


    ¡°What ¡­ was that all about?¡± I manage to choke, trying to understand why I feel equal parts terrified and excited at being alone in the dark with him. He just stares at me, silent and cold and unreadable. It makes me want to crack his facade and see what¡¯s lying underneath, if anything.


    ¡°Come upstairs and y a little game with us, and maybe we¡¯ll tell you.¡± He runs his palm over my shoulder and down my bare arm. I shed my leather jacket a long time ago, but now I¡¯m wishing I had it on. His skin is too hot where it touches me, sending this violent little thrill through me that has nothing to do with fear. ¡°I assumed you were Furious beFause you wanted to know what I Fould do for you.¡± His words thunder in my skull, but I push them away.


    My mother lost her virginity at age fourteen, and just before I left home toe here, she stopped by for her first visit in years. ¡°You won¡¯tst long at that sFhool. You¡¯re too muFh like me, Marnye. You¡¯ll be sniffing around those filthy riFh boys like a dog in heat.¡± I¡¯ve made it a whole year past her mark, and I n to make it a few more at that.


    Not ¡­ that I¡¯d be interested in losing my virginity to Tristan Vanderbilt anyway. He¡¯s beautiful, I can¡¯t deny that, but he¡¯s too cold on the inside, too cruel. Even though his hands are wiFked hot.


    ¡°What sort of game?¡± I ask, and he smirks, looking me over with a flicker of heat in his eyes that surprises me.


    ¡°Poker.¡±


    The way he sneers as he says that tells me definitively that I¡¯m witnessing a very big mistake.


    Poker, huh? The way he says it makes me think he¡¯s a damned good yer. I bet they all are.


    The thing is, I grew up in Lower Banks, the poorest neighborhood in Cruz Bay. There¡¯s nobody that can outdo me at a round of Texas hold ¡¯em.


    Holding back a smile, I follow him back inside and up the stairs.


    There¡¯s a second lounge area on the top floor with its own wet bar and series of round tables. Creed and Zayd sit at one, each with an empty chair beside them, while the other partygoers take up the rest. Zack is already there, seated at a different table, but his dark eyes follow me as I move across the room.


    Cards and chips are already set out, but I get a feeling we¡¯re going to be betting more than money here. The Idols don¡¯t give a crap about money. Well, I mean, in all reality, they care a lot, they just have so much of it that ying for cash probably doesn¡¯t excite them much.


    And that ¡­ scares me a little.


    ¡°Take a seat, Working Girl,¡± Zayd says with a smirk, reaching up to smooth his palm over the gelled spikes of his hair. I sit next to him, watching as he downs another full cup of beer. After how much he¡¯s had tonight, I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s still standing. Then again, practice makes perfect, and I¡¯m guessing he¡¯s built his tolerance up over many, many parties.


    Creed deals a hand, and then distributes the chips evenly amongst us. ¡°Texas hold ¡¯em?¡± I ask, and he flicks his eyes my direction, barely


    acknowledging me with a slight tilt of his chin. He¡¯s still clinging to that anger from outside, his rage toward Derrick only partially satisfied. Tristan sits across from me, and folds his forearms on the table, leaning in close.

 37

    ¡°We¡¯ll start with a warm-up round,¡± Tristan begins, and I have to hold back a smile. They think they¡¯re going to smoke me here. I¡¯m happy to prove them wrong. Zayd lights up a cigarette and Creed wrinkles his nose, but I¡¯m used to it. Everyone in the Cruz Bay Mobile Home Vige smokes, including my own dad. ¡°Buy in is ten grand; I¡¯ll cover for the charity case. You shouldn¡¯t have any problem with that, right, Working Girl, taking other peoples¡¯ money?¡± He stares at me with zero emotion in his eyes, and I shrug. ¡°I can¡¯t afford a ten thousand dor buy in, so if you want me to y with you, then yeah, I ept.¡± I stare him down, but he just smirks at me. He probably thinks he¡¯ll win it all back anyway. On the inside, my heart is pounding and I¡¯m having trouble not thinking about how much ten thousand dors could help my dad. He could fix the moldy walls in our bathroom, buy a truck that actually starts up on a reliable basis, maybe even take a


    vacation ¡­


    ¡°Figures.¡± Tristan leans back in his chair and looks between the three of us. ¡°You ready?¡±


    ¡°I was born ready,¡± Zayd says, shing a bright grin, and then the round starts. I¡¯m sitting on Creed¡¯s left, so I start with a small blind, trying to see the chips as just chips and not actual dors. If I do, I¡¯ll get distracted.


    Everyone knows what they¡¯re doing so the rounds move quickly. Zayd is so outgoing and expressive that I pick up his tells within minutes. If he¡¯s confident in his cards, he reaches up to y with his hair. If he¡¯s not, he scratches at his tattooed chest with inked fingers. He¡¯s the first to fold.


    ¡°Man, fuck this game,¡± he groans, putting his hands over his face as I smile. Creed is as unreadable as ever, but he¡¯s cautious, and eventually, he folds too.


    Tristan is the one to beat. He bets high every time, and when ites time to show our cards, I¡¯ve got a royal flush, and he has a straight.


    He scowls at me as I collect the pile of chips, and find it impossible to hold back the smirk on my face.


    ¡°Did we just get wiped by the Working Girl?¡± Zayd asks, blinking wide, green eyes in my direction. ¡°Holy shit.¡±


    ¡°Where the fuck did you learn to y?¡± Tristan snaps, as Creed studies me with his bored, too-rich-to-care look.


    ¡°I grew up in the Lower Banks neighborhood,¡± I exin, my hands shaking as I stack the chips. Did I just win forty-grand? Impossible. Literally impossible. I fully don¡¯t expect the guys to actually pay up. Why should they? What could I possibly do,in to the staff that we used the student lodge during break to y illegal rounds of poker, and I didn¡¯t get my payout? ¡°You think you¡¯re good at poker? I know kids who could wipe the floor with all of us.¡±


    Tristan¡¯s mouth tightens, but it doesn¡¯t stop him from passing me the dealer button and demanding we start a new round.


    ¡°Text us your ount information, and we¡¯ll wire the money,¡± he says, the anger fading from his face and voice. Back to being stone-cold again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a bank ount,¡± I say, and all three boys turn to look at me.


    Zayd cocks a disbelieving brow, and Tristan sighs.


    ¡°Of Fourse you don¡¯t,¡± he says, as I stare skeptically back at him. No way are they really going to wire me any money. No freaking way. ¡°I¡¯ll have my dad¡¯s assistant set one up for you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to pretend,¡± I tell him as I shuffle the cards. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you guys to actually pay me.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t we?¡± Creed drawls, putting his curled fingers up against the side of his cheek. ¡°Those are the rules of the Infinity Club: you make a bet, you pay out.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to give me forty thousand dors?¡± I choke out with a scoff. Well, technically half of my winnings belong to Tristan for loaning me the buy-in, but that¡¯s a moot point if money never exchanges hands.


    ¡°No, you won forty thousand dors, fair and square,¡± Creed says, dropping his hand into hisp. His blue eyes are so intense, I want to look away, but I feel like I¡¯m losing something if I do. We end up just staring at each other. ¡°Besides, my mother wipes her ass with that amount of money. It¡¯s not exactly going to break our banks.¡±


    He pulls his phone from his pocket and frowns at a text message.


    I¡¯m too caught up on the idea of having that much money to even notice. My dad could use the money to put down on a house. Or, selfishly, I think about keeping it for college. How amazing would that be? I¡¯d always assumed schrships and loans would be there to help me make ends meet, but this money could really be life-changing.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Creed says, standing up and giving Zayd a look.


    Tristan watches with narrowed eyes as Zayd follows after, heading down the stairs. A few secondster, and there¡¯s the sound of a caring up the driveway.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯re taking a break?¡± I start, but Tristan isn¡¯t looking at me, or even listening. Instead, he¡¯s staring out the window like he¡¯s seen a ghost, his face going white, hands curling into fists. He shoves up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process, and makes his way downstairs.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask as Zack moves over to look out the window.


    Whatever he sees there makes his face tighten up. ¡°Zack?¡±


    ¡°Tristan¡¯s ex is here.¡± He nces back at me, his mouth turned down in a sharp frown. ¡°Lizzie Walton.¡±


    ¡°You know her?¡± I ask, and Zack shrugs his massive shoulders.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to Coventry Prep together.¡± My brows go up. I¡¯d just sort of assumed Zack would be moving onto LBH.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°You got into Coventry?¡± I ask, and he shrugs again, moving away from the window and heading downstairs. Since I don¡¯t know anybody else here, I end up tagging along yet again. What Ie down to is a tense, ufortable scene. Nothing¡¯s being said, but there¡¯s a palpable tension in the air.


    Tristan is staring at Lizzie, eyes narrowed, while she stands next to some tall guy with light brown hair and eyes to match. He¡¯s got a cocky swagger that immediately puts me on edge. Unsurprising since every other cocky guy here is a nightmare to deal with.


    ¡°Lizzie,¡± Tristan says, and she smiles. She¡¯s got a soft, sweet smile, too. For some reason, I get this jittery feeling in my stomach, and mp a hand over my belly. Zack notices and raises his brows, but I¡¯m not really sure what¡¯s bothering me, so I drop my hand to my side.


    ¡°Tristan,¡± Lizzie replies, her amber eyes crinkling. She separates from the tall guy with the brown hair, and I notice his eyes following her across the room. To my chagrin, she makes her way right to me. ¡°You¡¯re not a member of the Infinity Club, are you?¡± she asks, but not like it¡¯s a bad thing, more like she¡¯s hopeful. Infinity Club. What the hell is it anyway?

 38

    ¡°Definitely not,¡± I reply, and her chest detes as she exhales. Lizzie hooks her arm through mine, her bouncy ck curls falling around her face as she smiles.


    ¡°Get a drink with me?¡± And then she drags me toward the kitchen, and the tension breaks. I can feel Tristan watching us though, his silver gaze cutting across the room and boring into me. Lizzie ignores him, filling a ss with ice and soda, and then offering it to me. I take it gratefully, feeling a small smile bloom on my face. ¡°Lizzie Walton.¡± She points to her chest.


    ¡°Marnye Reed,¡± I reply, pausing as one of the guys brings over a stack of fresh pizzas and stacks the white cardboard boxes on the counter. There¡¯s a rush for food, but I notice that a small bubble of space is left around Lizzie and me. Considering I¡¯m a nobody here, I have to wonder who this girl really is.


    ¡°Are you here with Tristan?¡± she asks, but not like she¡¯s being judgmental, just curious.


    ¡°Not really,¡± I say, snatching a piece of cheese pizza and dropping it onto a paper te. I hold this out to Lizzie, and she takes it with a bright grin. As soon as there¡¯s a break in the pizza hungry hands of the boys, I snatch another. ¡°I mean, he drove me up here with Zayd and Creed but-¡±


    ¡°Zayd Kaiser and Creed Cabot?¡± Lizzie asks, eyes gleaming with interest. ¡°So you go to Burberry Prep?¡±


    ¡°I won a schrship,¡± I start, waiting for her expression to change. It doesn¡¯t. Actually, she seems more interested in me now. She¡¯s wearing a


    peach-colored t-shirt and jeans, a totally unassuming outfit, but I can tell every piece on this girl is expensive.


    ¡°The Cabot Schrship Award, right? I had a friend try for that one, too. You must¡¯ve been good to beat her out.¡± Lizzie pauses to take a bite of her pizza, but she¡¯s still smiling at me. Once she swallows, she continues. ¡°She got the Coventry Award of Excellence which is almost as good, and to be quite honest, I¡¯m d she¡¯s going to school with me.¡±


    ¡°Coventry Prep is ¡­ what, three hours from Cruz Bay?¡± I ask as Lizzie starts to move for the sliding doors, and I trail behind her, finding a pair of seats outside. Tristan is still staring at us. I can feel his gaze like a ray of ice, burning me with frigid cold as I flop down into a wooden Adirondack chair. Zayd and Creed are arguing in low voices in the corner opposite the front door, and Zack¡¯s disappeared again.


    What a night.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I won forty thousand dors, I remind myself, but I won¡¯t believe it until I see it. I¡¯ve learned some pretty hard lessons in life, and not counting your chickens before they hatch is a big one. Still, I can¡¯t shake the bubble of excitement in my lower belly.


    ¡°Coventry Prep is about ¡­ thirteen hours north of here,¡± Lizzie says, ¡°so yeah, that sounds about right.¡± So, closer to home than Burberry Prep. I guess that¡¯s how Zack¡¯s been able to help my dad out. ¡°Northern California, near the redwoods.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m from Cruz Bay, so I know exactly what you mean,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°So how do you know Tristan?¡± Zack had said she was Tristan¡¯s ex, but I¡¯d rather hear the story from the horse¡¯s mouth, so to speak. Lizzie pauses, the crust from her pizza halfway to her lips.


    ¡°We¡¯ve known each other forever,¡± she says, setting the crust down on her te and sighing. ¡°We started dating in seventh grade, but this summer my dad-¡±


    ¡°I thought my ears were burning,¡± Tristan says, pausing next to us with his hands tucked into the pockets of his cks.


    ¡°Your friend here was curious about how we know each other. I was just saying we met in ¡­ what, third grade?¡± Tristan smiles, and although it¡¯s slightly less venomous than usual, it¡¯s still not a very happy expression. ¡°And that we dated for over two years.¡± She pauses, and the tension returns to the air. Tristan¡¯s face softens, and he opens his mouth like he¡¯s going to


    say something. But then it¡¯s like he remembers that I¡¯m still sitting there and starts scowling again.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting ready to head back to campus.¡± He practically barks that at me, like it¡¯s an order or something. Checking my phone, I see that¡¯s it damn near midnight. Technically there¡¯s no curfew during break, but couples are starting to break off into dark corners, and I imagine the party¡¯s only going to get more ¡­ sordid from here on out. ¡°Lizzie, do you need somewhere to stay? You can sleep in my dorm tonight.¡±


    My eyes go so wide, I swear they¡¯re about to tumble out of my face.


    Wow. Is Tristan ¡­ being nice to this Lizzie chick? I¡¯m finding it really hard to believe, but when he looks at her, he wears apletely different expression than when he¡¯s looking at me. That knot in my belly twists tight, but I ignore it.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack says, appearing in the doorway. Tristan lifts his head to look at him with narrowed eyes. ¡°Do you want to stay here tonight? I¡¯ve got an extra bed in my room.¡±


    The tension rachets up to unbearable levels. Both Lizzie and I are darting nces between the two men, but it¡¯s impossible to tell what¡¯s going on behind the masks they wear. Tristan, hiding behind a sheet of ice. Zack, crouching inside a sea of shadows.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that extra bed,¡± Lizzie says, looking down at me. ¡°That is, if you¡¯re okay with that?¡± She nces back at Zack again, blinking rapidly. ¡°Or ¡­ I guess that¡¯s presumptuous of me. Are you two together?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zack and I both blurt at the same time. ¡°That¡¯s perfect,¡± I add, giving Zack an apologetic smile. ¡°I think I¡¯d befier in my own bed.¡± He nods, sighs, and then turns away, disappearing into the crowd. I watch him go before I look back at Tristan. His pissed-off meter has cranked to an all new high.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you sleeping in a room with Zack Brooks,¡± Tristan grinds out, and Lizzie jerks back like she¡¯s been pped. Her eyes darken, and she looks away sharply.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you want, Tristan. My dad doesn¡¯t even want me talking to you, much less taking your advice.¡±


    ¡°And his word isw, huh?¡± Tristan breathes, lifting his chin up in defiance. Lizzie puts her te aside and stands up, brushing dark hair back from her face.


    ¡°Excuse me, Marnye.¡± She starts to go and then pauses, ncing back at me. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow night at the casino?¡± My mouth pops open, but Tristan answers for me.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be there,¡± he says, and I spin around in my seat to re at him. ¡°You don¡¯t speak for me.¡± I¡¯m indignant, a bright coal of anger burning in


    my chest. Tristan leans forward, putting his palms on either side of me, effectively pinning me to the chair.


    ¡°If youe tomorrow, I¡¯ll y you again.¡± He pauses and moves his head, so that his lips tease my earlobe. ¡°I¡¯ll bet you an entire month of freedom: no bullshit from me or any other Idol.¡± My whole body¡¯s on fire right now, and I¡¯m frozen in ce. It feels impossible to move. Tristan turns his head so that his lips are pressed to my cheek. ¡°No bullshit from anybody at Burberry Prep. It¡¯ll just be you and Miranda doing your own thing.¡± That feels like heaven, I think, a small sound escaping my mouth as I correct my own thought, that sounds like heaven. ¡°What do you say, Charity?¡±


    ¡°Tristan,¡± Lizzie snaps, and he pauses for a moment, brushing a kiss to my cheek before he stands back up, his cruel mask sliding firmly back into ce. ¡°Leave her alone. I won¡¯t let you bother my new friend.¡±


    ¡°Friend?¡± he scoffs, looking back at me like I¡¯m scum. And I feel so sick inside because I liked his touch. Actually, even as I¡¯m sitting here, I want more. There¡¯s a strange, warm feeling between my thighs that¡¯s new, and I don¡¯t know how to put it into words. ¡°You just met her.¡±


    ¡°I know good people when I see them,¡± Lizzie deres, starting to turn away from us. She pauses again and looks back. ¡°If you¡¯re mean to her, I¡¯ll know, Tristan. And I¡¯ll be sick about it.¡± Lizzie takes off, heading for the bathroom and disappearing inside.


    Tristan stares at the closed door for several minutes before he takes out his keys and narrows his gray eyes on me.


    ¡°Get up, and let¡¯s go.¡±


    He takes off around the side of the house, and I follow, my emotions a jumbled knot that I don¡¯t see myself undoing anytime soon.

 39

    There¡¯s a knock on my door bright and early, and I groan, rolling out of bed and padding over to open it. As soon as I¡¯ve got the lock undone, the door flies open and there¡¯s Zayd waiting for me, one forearm leaning against the doorjamb. He¡¯s dressed in a torn, ck tank top with a zipper sewn diagonally across the side. Paired with white skinny jeans and boots, he looks like a punk rocker from the 90s-but in a good way.


    ¡°Morning Working Girl,¡± he says, whistling as he pushes his way into my apartment and looks around. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect the Brothel to look this nice.¡±


    ¡°The Brothel?¡± I ask, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I¡¯m too tired to be angry about it. Too tired to be concerned about Zayd tromping around my room. He reaches up and touches the crystals on the chandelier, letting them clink together with a soft tinkling sound. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what everyone calls your dorm,¡± he says with a shrug of his shoulders, like it¡¯s no big deal. ¡°You ready or what?¡±


    ¡°Ready?¡± I ask, checking my phone. There¡¯s a text from Zack: Let me know you made it baFk okay? I worry about you with Tristan Vanderbilt. Oops. I was so tiredst night that I forgot to check my phone. Plopping down on the edge of my bed, I send a quick response to let him know that I¡¯m fine. ¡°It¡¯s seven thirty in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Long drive to the casino,¡± Zayd says, turning to look at me. I keep my eyes on my phone, but I can feel his gaze burning into me like fire. When I


    lift my attention to his face, I see him studying my legs and realize with a start that I¡¯m not wearing anything but panties and a tank top.


    ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I blurt as Zaydughs, the sound following me into the bathroom as I m the door closed and yank on the jeans fromst night. When I open the door again, he¡¯s still howling withughter. ¡°How long of a drive?¡± I ask, hoping to distract him. It almost works, but I notice his eyes are still lingering on my denim-d legs.


    ¡°Dunno. Never been there before.¡± He pulls his phone out, nces at the screen, and then taps out a text with his thumb before ncing back up again. As I browse through my other messages, I feel a pang inside my chest at one from my dad. I¡¯m really sorry, honey. Please Fall me. My anger¡¯s long-faded, and even though his words ring in my head-you forgive too easily-I decide I¡¯ll give him a call today, see how his out of town gig is going.


    ¡°Are you sure the casino¡¯s going to be okay with a bunch of kids showing up on their doorstep? I mean, it¡¯s illegal for us to even set foot in there, right?¡± Zayd lifts his dark brows at me, running his tattooed left palm down his equally inked up right arm. There are so many designs twisted together on his skin, it¡¯s hard to make them out without getting a little closer. I¡¯m just fine across the room from him, thank you very much.


    ¡°The casino¡¯s been out of business for, like, years.¡± He shrugs his shoulders again, and I get chills down my spine. ¡°But it¡¯s all set up for gaming.¡± He shes a grin at me, and I imagine how easy it must be for him to woo crowds. Note to self: look up some videos of Zayd Kaiserter. I¡¯ve never actually listened to or seen any of his work. ¡°They even have a racetrack.¡±


    ¡°Like, for racing cars?¡±


    ¡°No, dummy, for racing greyhounds.¡± He rolls his green eyes at me, and I frown. ¡°Yeah, duh, of course it¡¯s for cars.¡±This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Why would a casino have a racing track?¡± I ask, and Zayd groans, reaching up to twist his gelled hair into spikes.


    ¡°Seriously, you ask a lot of stupid questions. Get dressed, and let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not riding on Creed¡¯sp for hours.¡± I¡¯m serious about that, too. I


    don¡¯t care if a whole month of freedom¡¯s on the line here. It¡¯s not happening. Just those few scant minutes were enough to be ¡­ confusing.


    ¡°Yeah, no worries then because I¡¯m driving you.¡± Zayd moves over to the wardrobe in the corner and throws the doors open. My mouth gapes open,


    shocked at his forward behavior, but he¡¯s not looking at me. Instead, he¡¯s tossing the Manolo hniks that Miranda got me onto the bed. He adds the ck dress to the pile, and then goes for my underwear drawer.


    ¡°Hey!¡± I shout, scrambling off my bed and over to him. I try to yank him back, but it¡¯s like tugging on cement. ¡°Hands off, asshole.¡± Zayd fingers a pair of the redcy panties I wore on Halloween. It¡¯s the only nice pair I have, and I got them as ast minute gift from my mom. Yeah. That¡¯s the kind of gifts my mother gets me: slinky dresses, high heels, andcy lingerie. Pretty sure her exact words were: snag yourself a riFh one, Marnye, you¡¯ll be d you did. Look how that turned out for me!


    Part of me wonders if I hate her, but then I feel guilty for even thinking that, and I banish the thought.


    ¡°Wear these,¡± Zayd continues, adding the matching red bra to the mix. ¡°You¡¯ll look fly as fuck.¡±


    ¡°Right. And then you¡¯ll all call me Working Girl and tell me to fuck you and then crawl back to my Brothel. Sorry, but it¡¯s not happening.¡± I reach around him to grab a t-shirt from the stack, my breasts brushing up against his back. Zayd stiffens and flicks his gaze down to me, but I¡¯m already blushing and pulling away, clutching a white t-shirt in my hand. It says Lower Banks High on the front, and honestly is probably the ugliest thing I own. I only ever intended to wear it as a pajama top.


    ¡°You want to wear like, Goodwill shit instead? How is that better?¡± The scowl forming on his face infuriates me, and I shove past him to get ess to the drawer on the bottom of the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of raggedy ck jeans, a worn leather belt I inherited from my dad, and some sneakers.


    ¡°Be right back,¡± I say cheerily, snagging the red bra and panties when he¡¯s not looking. I¡¯m not squeezing past him again to grab a different set. Slipping into the bathroom, I change into my new outfit, realizing as I pull the shirt over my head that it¡¯s literally covered in holes. The red of my bra shows through, and I sigh.


    When I open the door to grab a new shirt, Zayd¡¯s waiting for me, leaning against the wall near the kitchte. He gives me a wicked-slow onceover, running his tongue over his lower lip and flipping one of his rings around.


    ¡°I figured you¡¯d look like a charity case in that, but it¡¯s actually pretty edgy.¡± He steps forward and fingers one of the rips near my shoulder. I p his hand away, but it only makes him grin. ¡°Hey,¡± he purrs, lifting his eyes


    from my chest to my face. ¡°We¡¯re all alone right now, whole school to ourselves.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± My voicees out a bit shakier than I intended. Great. I have no problem standing up to these jerks when they¡¯re being cruel, but when they start with the flirting, a different sort of heat mixes with the anger.


    ¡°So ¡­¡± Zayd runs his finger along my shoulder and then tickles his fingertips across the back of my neck, making me shiver with pleasure. It feels good to be touched there, even by someone I hate as much as this asshole. ¡°We could christen the school, take our time in each and every room. I¡¯ve never fucked in the chapel, you know. You could be the first.¡±


    Revulsion mixes with lust inside of me, and I smack Zayd¡¯s hand away. He narrows his green eyes at me, but he¡¯s still smiling. It¡¯s an infectious sort of smile, nothing at all like Tristan¡¯s cruel twist of lips, but I know it¡¯s not anymore genuine. Zayd is a performer. He woos people for a living. Frankly, I¡¯d be better off throwing my hat in the ring with Creed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping with you,¡± I tell him, and this time, my voice doesn¡¯t waver at all.


    Zayd scowls at me and reaches up to y with his hair. I catch sight of the tattoo on the back of his left hand, a stylized bluebird over a ck and white guitar. The rings on his fingers glitter in the light from the chandelier, and for a second there, I can¡¯t help but think how handsome he looks. Then, of course, he opens his mouth.


    ¡°Who are you sleeping with then? Andrew? Because Creed and Tristan might get off on the virgin thing, but I have a hard time believing it. A girl like you, from Lower Banks, there¡¯s just no way.¡±


    ¡°Because everyone who¡¯s poor is automatically promiscuous?¡± I ask, trying not to think of my mom. She¡¯s the exception, not the rule. ¡°And even if I were, it¡¯s none of your business, and it has nothing to do with the character of a person. Look at you and Tristan and Creed, sleeping with anyone you can get your hands on. And that¡¯s not what makes you bad people. There are plenty of other things, but that¡¯s not it.¡±

 40

    ¡°Well, look at you, standing up for yourself. I bet your drunk daddy would be real proud.¡± Zayd steps away from me before I can figure out how to react and tugs a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.


    ¡°At least my dad showed up,¡± I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. It¡¯s okay to defend myself, but I don¡¯t ever want to make someone feel the way I did in junior high. Nobody deserves to feel thatN?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    low. Zayd¡¯s jaw clenches, and his nostrils re, but then he smirks and lights up his cigarette with sharp, jerky motions.


    ¡°Nice one, Charity. Guess even girls like you cane up with a clever retort every now and then.¡± He smokes his cigarette and stares at me, still scowling. ¡°If you¡¯re done dicking around, we gotta go. I don¡¯t like beingte to Club shit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your dad,¡± I say instead, and he pauses, like I¡¯ve just pped him. Zayd turns away and kicks open the door to my dorm, stepping out into the hallway. I can only pray there¡¯s not enough of a cigarette smell in here to get me busted. That¡¯d be just my luck. ¡°What is the Infinity Club anyway?¡± I ask as I hold the door open and toe my sneakers on.


    Zayd keeps his back to me, but there¡¯s a band of steel in his voice when he nces over his shoulder.


    ¡°You¡¯re a guest, Marnye Reed. Don¡¯t fuck it up.¡±


    ¡°First rule of Infinity Club, don¡¯t talk about Infinity Club?¡± I joke, but Zayd doesn¡¯tugh. Instead, he starts off down the hallway, a trail of cigarette smoke wafting behind him. With a sigh, I follow after, taking the same path as yesterday out to a gravel parking lot.


    There¡¯s a crimson colored sports coupe with dark rims and tinted windows.


    ¡°Maserati GranTurismo,¡± Zayd says, gesturingmely in the direction of the car. ¡°I borrowed it from Sheldon Barnes.¡± He finishes smoking his cigarette and then just chucks the butt like he expects somebody else to clean up after him. I bet for most-if not all-of his life, people have. ¡°He¡¯s allowed to have a car on campus because he¡¯s eighteen, and his grandma¡¯s like, sick or something, and she only lives fifteen minutes from here. He gets toe and go as he pleases.¡±


    ¡°Well, for his grandma ¡­¡± I start, but Zayd¡¯s already tossing a smirk over his shoulder at me, sea green hair flopping into his face. He reaches up and twists it into a gelled spike.


    ¡°He never actually visits the old bat. She¡¯s got an entire nursing staff on- hand at home anyway. He just uses her as an excuse to go pick up hookers in the city.¡± My brows go up at that, but I can¡¯t decide if Zayd actually means this Sheldon guy pays prostitutes for sex, or if he¡¯s being a judgmental, slut- shaming prick again.


    ¡°It¡¯s a nice car,¡± I hedge instead, and Zayd howls withughter.


    ¡°You could buy a hundred for these for the price of that Ferrari Spider.¡± Zayd cracks the driver¡¯s side door and climbs in. I notice he doesn¡¯t bother to open my door for me. Not that I¡¯d expect him to, but still.


    The inside has that new car smell, this mixture of leather and oil that makes my nose tingle. There¡¯s a torn scrap of paper with a lipstick smudge and a phone number on it stuck to the dash, but that¡¯s really the only sign that anyone¡¯s ever used this vehicle before. There aren¡¯t any old coffee cups or fast food wrappers or muddy boot smudges like in my dad¡¯s truck.


    Zayd starts the car, and then cranks up the stereo, sting a stream of rock music from his own band. That husky voice of his is just too recognizable. As he pulls out of the parking lot, I slide my phone from my pocket and surreptitiously do a search for Zayd Kaiser.


    Hees up right away, with over ten million results. Zayd Kaiser, lead singer of the AmeriFan band Afterglow, a Fontemporary roFk group with several number one hits. Theirtest summer tour was a huge suFFess, opening for headliners and superstars IndeFenFy. Also on the roster were Amatory Riot, Beauty in Lies, Caged Impulse, and Pistols and Violets.


    ¡°If you want to know something about me, you could just ask,¡± Zayd says, turning the music down slightly. He¡¯s got rubber bracelets trailing up his right arm, and I notice that the names of the bands listed on the tour roster match up. Interesting. Too bad I don¡¯t follow popr music much. Instead, I¡¯m the weirdo in the corner listening to obscure Carlos Salzedo pieces.


    ¡°My dad listens to some of your dad¡¯s songs,¡± I start, ¡°but personally, I spend most of my time listening to ssical music. Honestly-and don¡¯t take this the wrong way-I have no idea who you are, other than some jerk who goes to my school.¡±


    ¡°Some jerk, huh?¡± Zayd asks, but he sounds slightly pleased by the sentiment. ¡°I¡¯m the fourth generation in my family to have a number one hit. My personal worth isrger than the family worth of some of these other assholes. I y four different kinds of instruments, and my manager is fucking the vice principal.¡±


    I blink at him and then cock an eyebrow.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t tell me a whole lot about you as a person. I mean, do you have any hobbies other than music and bullying?¡± Zayd smirks at me, green eyes sparkling, but he doesn¡¯t take his attention off the road. Good thing, too, because now that we¡¯ve exited the academy gates, he¡¯s edging close to a hundred miles an hour.


    ¡°I like fast cars, pretty girls, and wicked ink. What else is there to know?¡± ¡°Do you ever sit down and just lose yourself in a good book? Are you


    overly emotional, or do you mp down on your feelings? What¡¯s your greatest fear and your biggest pleasure?¡± Now Zayd does look over at me, eyes wide and brows raised. He¡¯s staring at me like I¡¯m some sort of alien creature.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± he asks, shaking his head and turning back to the road. ¡°You¡¯re seriously fucking strange, you know that? Most girls would either be trying to suck me off, or cursing me out right now. You let us beat up on you, but you barely fight back, just enough to stay standing. And yet, you could¡¯ve fucked all three of us by now if you¡¯d wanted. Why haven¡¯t you?¡±


    I Fould¡¯ve slept with them? I think, and then even though the only person I¡¯m talking to is myself, I add, not that I Fare beFause I definitely don¡¯t want to. Definitely not. No way.


    ¡°You seriously need to ask?¡± I lean back against the door and look Zayd over. ¡°Because maybe I don¡¯t want to have sex with men who treat me like shit. Is that somehow surprising to you?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, yeah, it sort of is. I¡¯ve never had a girl tell me no before, not when I¡¯ve tantly offered myself up. Most of the girls at Burberry Prep drool and hang all over me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s their prerogative,¡± I say, exhaling and closing my eyes. ¡°Everyone is looking for something different.¡±


    ¡°What are you looking for, Working Girl? Romance? Affection? Love?¡± ¡°A good education, a promising career, and some outlet for me to y the


    harp for an audience. That¡¯s it.¡± I open my eyes again, but Zayd doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s listening. Instead of answering me, he just cranks the music up and sings along with the lyrics, harmonizing perfectly with his own voice. I¡¯m guessing he doesn¡¯t use auto-tuner.


    ¡°Basking in the glory of my followers, bathing in the blood of my enemies, drowning in the waves of my own lies. That¡¯s what it means, that¡¯s how it feels, that¡¯s what it¡¯s like to be me.¡±

 41

    I listen to Zayd sing his own lyrics and I wonder if any of them are true. If they are, then I feel really sorry for him.


    Money can¡¯t buy everything.


    I must be exhausted because I end up falling asleep on the drive, waking to an empty car. Zayd is nowhere to be seen, and I¡¯m left wondering where the hell I¡¯m supposed to go. The building in front of me is very clearly abandoned with boarded up windows and doors, overgrown brush crowding the pathways.


    A knock on the window startles me, and I scream, turning to find Zack waiting for me with his brows drawn together. I open the door, and he helps me out, his hand cool and dry against mine.


    ¡°I was wondering where you were when Kaiser sauntered into the party without you.¡± Zack runs his fingers through his chocte hair and sighs. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re hanging out with those guys.¡±


    ¡°They warned me away from you, too, you know,¡± I tell him, and watch as his eyes darken. ¡°And you¡¯re warning me away from them. Frankly, I¡¯m inclined to stay away from all of you.¡±


    ¡°Why did youe out here, Marnye? You¡¯re not a part of the club; you never will be.¡± My mouth tightens, and my nostrils re. If I have to hear Zack rip on me for being poor, then I¡¯m going to lose my shit tonight.


    ¡°Tristan made me an offer I couldn¡¯t refuse,¡± I say, chewing on my lower lip and looking up at the multi-level casino. The name on the sign is hard to read, but I¡¯m pretty sure this used to be a Native American run ce. That would exin the remote location. I think we might be on a reservation. My skin prickles, and I feel disrespectful for even standing here. Clearly, the casino¡¯s closed. Maybe they¡¯d rather not have annoying white people traipsing all over theirnd?


    ¡°What did he offer you?¡± Zack asks, putting his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket. It¡¯s blue and gold, and I figure those must be the colors of Coventry Prep. Burberry Prep is all about red and ck although the jocks most definitely don¡¯t rule our school: money does.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°A month without anyone bothering me about my schrship status-or anything else for that matter.¡± I nce over at him, but he¡¯s as unreadable as


    ever. ¡°He wants to y me at poker. You know I can kick his ass.¡± The faintest brush of a smile touches Zack¡¯s lips before it disappears again.


    ¡°Just be careful with those guys. They¡¯re Idols for a reason. They demand sacrifice.¡± He starts off down the path without bothering to exin that cryptic little nugget of information. With a sigh, I follow after, around to the back of the house where white lights are strung, kegs are set up, and people are already dancing. There¡¯s a bevy of gorgeous sports cars lined up back there, too, with girls lounging on the hoods or making out with guys inside them.


    Zack leads me in the back door, past counters fitted with dark screens where customers used to drink and y slots. Some of the machines are plugged in, glowing brightly, and raucousughter fills the room as students tug on the handles and watch the screens light up.


    ¡°Those don¡¯t actually give out money, I¡¯m guessing?¡± Zack shakes his head at my question.


    ¡°Any bets made are private bets. The machine just makes it all random.¡± He shows me to an area enclosed by a half-wall. It looks like it used to be a restaurant or something. The nts lining it, and hanging from the ceiling are all fake, so it looks weirdly current, even amongst the strange urban decay of the rest of the ce.


    Tristan, Creed, and Zayd are seated around a table with three girls, all of them topless.


    My nose wrinkles, as the girls giggle and pretend not to know what to do with their cards. Either that, or they really have no idea how to y poker.


    ¡°Strip poker,¡± Zayd exins to me, shing a bright grin. ¡°You should get in on this, Working Girl.¡±


    ¡°No thank you.¡± I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°If I yed strip poker with you, I¡¯d win, and then I¡¯d be forced to stare at the three of you naked. Sorry, not interested.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotten brave,¡± Creed drawls, looking like he¡¯s half-asleep with boredom. Not even three bare-chested girls have aroused his attention. No, the only time I¡¯ve seen him look alive is when he was destroying that Derrick guy. ¡°We¡¯ve been prettyx in reminding you of your status, haven¡¯t we?¡± Tristan and Zayd give him a pair of cryptic looks that he doesn¡¯t bother returning. ¡°You three, get up. We¡¯re done here.¡±


    The girls all gape at each other, snatching up their shirts and leveling dark res on me, as if it¡¯s my fault the game¡¯s over.


    ¡°Guess you¡¯re going to entertain all four of them,¡± she starts, jerking her thumb in the direction of Tristan, Zayd, Creed, and Zack, ¡°all by yourself. No wonder they call you the Working Girl.¡± The redhead shoves me out of the way with her hip, and I grit my teeth. Truth be told, I feel sorry for her. It must be awful to be so angry all the time.


    ¡°Take a seat, Charity, so I can wipe the floor with your ass.¡± Tristan shuffles the cards, and then deals out a new hand, pausing as he nces up at Zack. ¡°What the fuck do you want? I don¡¯t remember inviting you.¡±


    The two of them re at each other for so long that Creed actually rolls his eyes, the first signs of life on his bored, princely face. He flicks some of that white-blonde hair of his off his forehead with long, elegant fingers. I wish Miranda were here, but since she¡¯s on an academy-sponsored trip, no phones allowed. I can¡¯t even text her.


    ¡°Let him y, Tristan. Who cares? I¡¯m not scared of this asshole.¡±


    ¡°Mind if I jump in, too?¡± Andrew asks,ing from the direction of the slot machines. He¡¯s wearing his academy uniform, and his chestnut hair is smooth and shiny. He smiles at me, and I grin back at him. Tristan, on the other hand, goespletely stiff and his eyes turn into silver slits.


    ¡°Whatever.¡± Creed gestures absently at the three empty chairs the girls left, and then turns his blue eyes to me. ¡°You understand that by ying here, you¡¯remitting to the Infinity Club rules.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what the Infinity Club is,¡± I say as I sit down and pretend I don¡¯t notice Creed and Tristan studying my outfit. They seem ¡­ perplexed. Like they¡¯ve never seen a girl in a ratty t-shirt and old jeans before.


    Tristan chucks something at me, and it smacks me in the chest before falling to the floor. He barely looks up, divvying up the chips. I narrow my eyes at him as I pick it up, finding a debit card with my name on it. There¡¯s a paper statement wrapped around it that slipped off, so I grab that, too.


    My eyes bug out of my head as I stare at the statement bnce.


    ¡°Forty-thousand dors?!¡± I choke, flicking my eyes up to Tristan. ¡°How


    ¡­ shouldn¡¯t ¡­¡± I take a moment to clear my throat as Zaydughs at me in a very mocking, derisive sort of way. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and gather my thoughts. ¡°You gave me the buy-in, so we¡¯re supposed to split the earnings, right?¡±


    ¡°Keep it. It¡¯s not worth my time,¡± Tristan says, and I don¡¯t think he¡¯s in any way trying to be nice. He just literally doesn¡¯t care.


    ¡°How did you get all my information to open an ount anyway?¡± I ask, my eyes sliding over to Creed. He just stares back at me with a half-lidded gaze.


    ¡°My mom has all your info from the schrship thing. She checked in with your dad, and he agreed to letting you have your own ount.¡±


    Andrew takes the spot on my left while Zack sits on my right, and I¡¯m just staring down at the paper with tears budding in my eyes. Don¡¯t let them fall, I think. If you let these guys see any weakness, they¡¯ll pounFe. Crumpling the paper up, I shove it and the debit card into my jeans pocket. Later, I¡¯ll lie back in bed and fantasize about forty grand. But not right now.


    ¡°So are you going to tell me anything about the Infinity Club? O


    r just assume I understand all the rules?¡±

 42

    ¡°Once you make a bet,¡± Zack supplies, slipping out his jacket and ncing over at me, ¡°you¡¯re bound to it. Whatever you promise, you¡¯re mandated to deliver. Otherwise, you lose your ce in the club, and you¡¯re subject to mob justice.¡±


    ¡°Like Derrick?¡± I ask, and Creed stiffens while Tristan shrugs.


    ¡°Who?¡± he asks, and when he looks up at me with that cold face of his, I actually wonder if he¡¯s already forgotten. ¡°Just don¡¯t bet what you can¡¯t deliver, Charity.¡± I frown as he leans back and nods his chin at the group. ¡°If she wins, she wants immunity for a whole month. No shit talk, no pranks, no haircuts.¡± Tristan¡¯s mouth curves in a lordly little smile. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Charity?¡±


    ¡°And if you win?¡± I ask, staring into his eyes and finding it suddenly hard to breathe. He shouldn¡¯t be so pretty, so carved and sculpted, so full of himself. It¡¯s impossible to look away. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°If I win this round, I want a personal favor from each and every one of you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ¡­ really vague,¡± I hedge, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. ¡°Nothing damning or life-altering. Something simple you¡¯d do for a


    friend.¡± The way Tristan says thatst word, I¡¯m not exactly sure he knows what a friend is.


    ¡°Like ¡­ pick up their clothes from the dry cleaner?¡± I ask, and I¡¯m pretty sure every guy at that table looks at me like I¡¯m stupid.


    ¡°Like, tell Creed to fuck all the way off of Harper. The flirting is starting to get annoying.¡± Tristan looks pointedly at Creed, but he waves him off.


    This is the second time I¡¯ve heard these guysying im to girls, like they actually have a right to do that. It¡¯s disturbing.


    ¡°Fine. But if you win and you fuck us with these favors, I¡¯ll destroy you.¡± Creed nces over at Andrew, and a visible line of tension forms between him and Tristan. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll y for Marnye¡¯s immunity, too,¡± he says, and I turn to look at him in surprise. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders like it¡¯s no big deal. ¡°It¡¯s doubtful I¡¯ll win, but I¡¯m at least here to support you.¡±


    ¡°What a crock of shit,¡± Tristan murmurs, shoving raven-dark hair away from his face and running his tongue ever so slowly along his lower lip. His gray eyes find Zack. ¡°How about you? You ying for Marnye, too?¡±


    Zack stares back at him, and then crosses his bulky arms over his chest. Tristan scowls, and turns to Zayd.


    ¡°I want the keys to your dad¡¯s Spider for the rest of the week, no questions asked.¡± Zayd¡¯s face takes on a suggestive leer. ¡°I have ns.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Creed?¡± Tristan turns to his friend, and I watch as those blue eyes slide over to me.


    ¡°I want to know who my sister¡¯s fucking.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I ask, the word just falling out of my mouth unbidden. My cheeks redden because even if I did have that information, I wouldn¡¯t give it to him. ¡°What makes you think she¡¯s sleeping with someone?¡±


    ¡°Well, the naked pictures that Derrick had for starters,¡± Creed drawls, waving his hand at me. ¡°You¡¯re her only friend. Surely she¡¯s told you something.¡± He stares me down, like if he looks hard enough, maybe I¡¯ll spill the truth onto the poker table. I just look back at him.


    ¡°I won¡¯t make that deal. Miranda trusts me.¡± Creed clenches his jaw, the hardness in his face such a stark contrast against his usualckadaisical nature. ¡°I¡¯m not ying if that¡¯s all you want.¡±


    ¡°She cried herself to sleep the other night,¡± he counters, blue eyes narrowing on me. ¡°And she won¡¯t tell me what¡¯s wrong.¡± My heart stutters over a beat, and I find myself sucking on my lower lip. I¡¯m aware he¡¯s ying with me, but I¡¯m also pretty damn sure he¡¯s telling the truth, too. The only thing Creed seems to actually care about is his twin. ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to know the information¡¯sing from you.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I choke out, but I¡¯ve already decided that as soon as we¡¯re done here, I¡¯m going to text Miranda and tell her about this. Creed asked for information; he never said I couldn¡¯t tell Miranda he was gunning for it.


    Besides, secrets breed distrust. Without them, there aren¡¯t any skeletons to be pulled out of the proverbial closet. ¡°It¡¯s a deal-if you win.¡±


    ¡°Are we done with the chitchat?¡± Tristan asks as a small sea of people forms around us, curious to see what the Idols are up to. The girls all left on various family getaways, but I can¡¯t help but wondering if they¡¯re a part of the Infinity Club, too. Maybe all the Bluebloods are? Anyway, I¡¯m still not entirely sure what the club is, but it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m here for one reason, and one reason only: to win that month of freedom. And maybe a little respect, too? ¡°Because if you assholes want to gossip, you can do it somewhere else. I have an appointment with Ebony Peterson tonight.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t she dating Jalen?¡± Creed asks, an insouciant smirk on his face. ¡°So?¡± is Tristan¡¯s reply. My cheeks flush red as he deals out a fresh hand,


    and gestures for the game to start. We still use chips for betting, but it¡¯s all just a show. There¡¯s no money at stake, just personal gains to be had.


    It goes much the same as before, with Zayd folding quickly, Andrew following suit, and Zack, Tristan, and Creed watching my every move. Eventually, they all fold, and I¡¯m thest one left standing.


    With a grin, I flip my cards over and drop them on the table. It¡¯s all bullshit.


    ¡°You have quite the poker face,¡± Andrew says with a smile, putting a hand on my knee. My grin turns into a moue of surprise, and his cheeks me. He pulls his hand back like he didn¡¯t quite realize what he was doing. Our eyes meet, and he gives me that winning grin I saw on my first day here. Andrew Payson was the first person to be nice to me, and he hasn¡¯t stopped. ¡°Could I give you a ride back to the academy? There¡¯s a twenty-four diner on the way.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Payson?¡± Zayd spits, leaning in and putting his forearms on the table. He didn¡¯t seem to care about folding, but he looks pissed now. ¡°I brought her here tonight. She¡¯s mine. You know the rules.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m what?¡± I ask, and Zack stiffens up beside me. ¡°You don¡¯t even like


    me.¡±


    ¡°When an Idol brings a date to a party, they¡¯re off-limits. Everyone knows that, even the fucking Plebs. Do you like being in the Circle, Andrew? Or do you want to join the working ss?¡± Zayd flicks one of his lip rings with his tongue, his inked fingers tightening on the edge of the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, man, Jesus.¡± Andrew runs his hand over his shiny chestnut hair, and shoots me an apologetic look. ¡°Sorry, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go another round,¡± Tristan says, looking directly at me. When I lift my eyes and find his silver gaze on me, I feel weighted down, like I couldn¡¯t stand if I tried. My kneels feel weak, and I¡¯m d I¡¯m sitting down already.


    ¡°What about Ebony?¡± Zayd asks, switching from angry to excited in a split-second. He¡¯s got a huge grin on his face. ¡°If you cancel with her, kiss that ass goodbye. She¡¯ll never leave Jalen.¡±


    ¡°Her fucking loss.¡± Tristan keeps his attention on me. ¡°You win again, and I¡¯ll offer this: the rest of the year, no shit from the Bluebloods.¡± My eyes widen.


    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty big boon,¡± Creed drawls, leaning forward and putting his elbow on the edge of the table. He puts his chin in his hand, eyes half-lidded and devoid of any interest whatsoever. It must be tough to feign disinterest all the time. I imagine all my emotions clogging up and getting stuck inside with not outlet, and almost feel momentarily sorry for Creed. ¡°Are you sure you want to offer that up? Where would you get your kicks for the rest of the year?¡±


    ¡°The Bluebloods are gonna be mad enough about the freebie month. Harper will lose her shit over this.¡± Zayd sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. ¡°Becky, too. They won¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°Assuming her winning streak holds,¡± Tristan continues, still staring at me.


    ¡°You should cut and run while you have the chance,¡± Zack tells me, standing up from the table. His dark gaze captures my attention, and his fingers hover over my shoulder for a moment before he pulls them away. ¡°I¡¯m not a part of the Burberry Bluebloods, so I don¡¯t give a shit about their rules. Let me take you home.¡±


    ¡°If you stay and y, I¡¯ll add another five grand into that ount of yours.¡± Tristan sets the stack of cards down, and pulls out his phone. He shoots off a text and then sets it screen side down on the table. ¡°What do you say? Five grand for nothing. I bet that sounds like a lot to someone like you.¡±


    ¡°It is a lot,¡± I correct, feeling anger overtake me again. When I got bullied in junior high, it made me sad. All I did was cry. These guys just piss me off. ¡°But if you want to pay me five-k to get your ass kicked again then fine.¡±N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°This is a terrible fucking idea,¡± Zack growls. ¡°They might be smiling now, but these guys are monsters.¡± He tosses a hand out to indicate the three Idol boys on the far side of the table.


    ¡°We¡¯re the monsters? Didn¡¯t you get some girl killedst year as part of a bet?¡± Tristan looks up at Zack and smiles. ¡°You lost a race against me in your grandpa¡¯s fancy dragster, and-¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth, Vanderbilt, or I¡¯ll shut it for you.¡± Zack takes a step forward, and Tristan rises to his feet. The two of them look like they¡¯re about to fall to blows when I stand up, too. Fortunately-or maybe unfortunately considering the circumstances-they¡¯re interrupted by arge group emerging from the crowd.


    Abigail Fanning and Valentina Pitt are at the front of the posse, but I can see Ebony red-faced and flushed behind them, Jalen Donner clinging to her hand. He doesn¡¯t seem to realize that his date was all set up to sleep with Tristan tonight.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t say anythingst night,¡± Abigail starts, her green eyes sliding over to me, ¡°but now I feel like we need to. Why is she here, Tristan?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s here because I asked her to be,¡± he says, voice smooth and dark. He turns away from Zack to look at the small cluster of Bluebloods behind him. I¡¯ve never seen such arge grouping of the Inner Circle in one ce before. It¡¯s intimidating, to say the least.


    ¡°Well, Harper didn¡¯t know about it, and she¡¯s pissed.¡± Abigail pops a hip out, puts her fist on it, and then swings a mane of aubrn hair over her shoulder. She¡¯s a really good hair-tosser. My stomach knots up, and I feel a bead of sweat work its way down my spine. Zack might back me up if a confrontation were to ensue. Andrew ¡­ I have no idea. But I¡¯m suddenly nervous, like a sheep who¡¯s just realized she¡¯s ying poker in a den of wolves. ¡°She doesn¡¯t want her here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t answer to Harper,¡± Tristan says, narrowing his eyes.

 43

    ¡°Working Girl came with me,¡± Zayd adds, not bothering to stand up. He¡¯s leaning back in his chair, ankles crossed and feet resting on the table. He¡¯s bncing on two chair legs, and I¡¯m starting to wonder if he¡¯s going to topple over. ¡°And I also don¡¯t answer to Harper. I don¡¯t answer to Tristan either. Don¡¯t talk to him like he¡¯s the fucking king of the academy.¡±


    ¡°Harper and Becky areing back early, thanks to you,¡± Abigail continues, lifting her chin. She doesn¡¯t acknowledge me whatsoever. Valentina stands by her side, eyes narrowed, attention focused on my face. She wrinkles her nose like I¡¯m the scum of the earth. ¡°They¡¯ll be here on Friday instead of Sunday.¡±


    ¡°Tell them not to bother,¡± Creed drawls, waving a hand around. ¡°Charity here has earned herself a get out of jail free card. Until January first, she¡¯s off-limits.¡± He also doesn¡¯t bother to stand up, leaning back and lounging like he¡¯s on a chaise instead of a hard, wooden chair.


    Abigail¡¯s mouth opens, but Ebony¡¯s already grabbed Jalen¡¯s hand and pulled him away before it gets ugly. Abigail¡¯s boyfriend, Gregory Van Horn (yes, the same asswad who called me out on my first day) steps up to take his ce beside her.


    ¡°We all agreed on this: she¡¯s trash. She doesn¡¯t belong at Burberry Prep. The other students are already talking about it, how the academy¡¯s losing its prestige. With every peasant we let in the door, there are a dozen more mbering to get in.¡± Gregory ruffles up his shoulder-length brown hair and puts his arm around Abigail¡¯s waist. ¡°We all worked hard to be here. Our families worked hard for their money to send us here. And just because we have resources and she doesn¡¯t, we¡¯re automatically required to share? That¡¯s fuckingmunist-fascist shit right there.¡±


    I¡¯m pretty sure Gregory Van Horn doesn¡¯t know the meaning of all the words he¡¯s just used.


    ¡°I worked hard to be here, too,¡± I blurt, and everyone turns to look at me, including the senator¡¯s son, John Hannibal, who¡¯s just waltzed up with a second-year girl on his arm. She¡¯s in uniform ¡­ sort of. Her top¡¯s unbuttoned, acy bra showing underneath. And her white skirt is rolled up so short that I¡¯m surprised I can¡¯t see her panties.


    ¡°Did we give you permission to talk, Working Girl?¡± Abigail snaps, and Tristan holds up a hand.


    ¡°I said, she¡¯s off-limits,¡± he repeats, voice growing even colder and darker. There¡¯s an unspoken threat there, too. Keep talking, and I will end you. I can practically hear him say it.


    ¡°So she gets to cheat her way to the top of the ss, fuck Mr. Carter for first chair in harp, and suck up to Kathleen Cabot¡¯s daughter looking for more free lunches? I know you enjoy having pets, Tristan, but you¡¯re taking this one a little too far, don¡¯t you think?¡± Abigail turns to me, her eyes ring with heat. I remember her at the Halloween party, ring at me while Zayd held me in his arms. ¡°You might be fucking the Idols, but it won¡¯tst. You¡¯re called the Working Girl for a reason, right?¡±


    ¡°Abigail,¡± Tristan says, his voice softening. He¡¯s a good actor, this one, and if I hadn¡¯t seen him talking to Lizzie before then I might¡¯ve believed his


    tone was genuine. ¡°Come here.¡± She blinks at him, and Zayd chuckles. He knows something I don¡¯t. Creed, too, based on the almost-smirk resting on his lips. ¡°I saide here.¡±


    She hesitates again, ncing at her boyfriend forfort. He crinkles his brows, but doesn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Tristan continues, smiling. It¡¯s such an awful expression on him. I thought before that maybe it was because there was no joy in it. Now that I¡¯m really looking, now that he¡¯s focusing it on someone else so I actually have a moment to think, I realize that it¡¯s scary because he does find joy in tormenting others. ¡°You didn¡¯t have any probleming for me before.¡±


    Abigail¡¯s mouth drops open, and Gregory lifts himself to his full height. ¡°More Burberry Prep bullshit,¡± Zack mutters under his breath. He reaches


    down and takes my hand, burning a trail of fire up my arm. Creed notices and narrows his eyes, same with Andrew. Well, he doesn¡¯t narrow his eyes but he does raise his brows. I pull my hand from Zack¡¯s grip and cradle it against my chest.


    ¡°What¡¯s he talking about?¡± Greg asks as Abigail¡¯s eyes lock on Tristan¡¯s face. She looks scared ¡­ but hopeful, too. Greg¡¯s brown gaze darts between the two of them. ¡°Abi?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to tell him?¡± Tristan asks, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I can¡¯t exactly ask you to the winter formal if he doesn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Know what?¡± Greg asks, and Abigail¡¯s eyes go dark.


    ¡°Stop it, Tristan. Save your lies and your bullshit for the Working Girl.¡± ¡°Abigail and I slept together the night before the Halloween party. Didn¡¯t


    you know that? I figured you two had an open rtionship.¡± Tristan tucks his fingers into the pockets of his cks, his smile growing as Greg¡¯s eyes widen with rage. He takes a step closer to her, and Greg rushes him. With an effortless sidestep, he moves out of the guy¡¯s way, and Greg ends up crashing into Zack.


    Zack shoves him to the floor, and watches the drama unfold with impassive distaste.N?velDrama.Org content.


    Tristan moves up to Abi, cupping the side of her face in his hand. Her angry expression softens, and her eyes go half-lidded. When he leans in close to whisper to her, her cheeks redden with pleasure. But as he continues talking, her eyes begin to widen and her mouth turns down in a terrified frown. Tristan pulls back and runs his thumb over her lower lip.


    ¡°When I said that Charity was off-limits, I meant it.¡± He releases her, and Abigail spins away, taking off across the casino with Valentina chasing after her. John helps Gregory to his feet, holding him back when Greg tries to rush Tristan again.


    ¡°You son of a bitch!¡± he snarls, tearing from John¡¯s grip as Zayd howls withughter. Creed watches the entire thing like one might watch raindrops fall outside a foggy window. He¡¯s bored, couldn¡¯t care less. This time, I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s not pretending. He truly just doesn¡¯t care about Abigail and Greg. ¡°I¡¯m going to-¡±


    ¡°Going to what, Gregory?¡± Tristan asks, smiling at him. He¡¯s so wicked, spinning his little webs. I wonder how he ever managed to snag a girl like Lizzie Walton. Her demeanor is essentially the opposite of his. ¡°Defy me? Start a social war? Go ahead. We both know who¡¯ll win.¡± Tristan puts his hand on Greg¡¯s shoulder, and he shoves him off. The move doesn¡¯t seem to bother Tristan; he just smiles wider. ¡°You have two choices: fall in line and go find your phndering girlfriend, or dere war on me. Go ahead, I¡¯m waiting.¡±


    Gregory stares at Tristan for so long that I actually wonder if he¡¯s going to do it, throw a bomb in the social scene of Burberry Prep Academy. If he hadn¡¯t treated me so horribly before, I might feel sorry for him. Tristan¡¯s a formidable opponent. My skin prickles, and a sheet of ice settles over my soul. Holy shit. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d quite grasped the kind of man I was up against.


    ¡°Fucking asshole,¡± Greg groans, sounding like he¡¯s on the verge of tears. He shoves John away when he steps forward to help, and then stalks off through the gathered crowd. Nobody says a word, and soon theughing and the drinking and the gambling starts up again.


    Tristan sits back down at the table like he¡¯s just popped over to the bathroom for a moment ande back.


    ¡°Shall we start another round?¡± he asks as Andrew rises to his feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take off. Marnye, I¡¯m free tomorrow if you want to have lunch?¡± I nod and he smiles, a genuine sort of expression that¡¯s almost jarring after looking at Tristan for so long. ¡°I¡¯ll text you.¡± He reaches out like he¡¯s going to touch my arm and stops short when he sees Zayd staring at him.


    After he leaves, I take my seat again.


    ¡°You hanging around, too, asshole?¡± Zayd asks, grinning. He just eats up the drama with a spoon. ¡°Because if you¡¯re panting around Charity here looking for an easy fuck, you¡¯ll be sorely disappointed. I already asked this morning, and it was a no-go.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re beyond rude,¡± I grumble, watching and waiting to see what Zack¡¯s going to do. He doesn¡¯t say anything, just sits back down and levels his dark eyes on Zayd.


    ¡°I don¡¯t y by your rules, Kaiser. Remember that.¡± He nods his chin at Tristan. ¡°Deal the cards, and let¡¯s go. I¡¯m ying for Marnye again.¡±


    ¡°Same stakes?¡± Creed asks, turning his eyes to me. ¡°Only ¡­ I want to add in a caveat that Charity won¡¯t tell Miranda a damn thing. Seems fair to me, considering what¡¯s on the table.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. If Working Girl¡¯s going for such a huge pot, then I want something better than a borrowed car.¡± Zayd pauses and taps his tattooed fingers on the table. ¡°I want a kiss. A real one. Tongue and all.¡± He smirks at me, and I glower back at him. ¡°What? I¡¯m not asking for much. It¡¯s just a kiss.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I don¡¯t intend to lose, so I don¡¯t care. ¡°Deal the cards.¡±


    He pauses as Lizzie strides up to the table, the tall guy fromst night trailing behind her.

 44

    ¡°Hey Marnye,¡± she says, her dark hair twisted up into a fancy knot on the back of her head, makeup dark but appropriate for the evening. She¡¯s wearing avender dress that¡¯s the perfectpliment to her amber eyes. ¡°Zack, thanks for letting me stay in your roomst night.¡± Zack nods, but nothing more passes between them, so I figure it was a pretty tame night. A coolness settles inside of me, and I realize that I was actually nervous, jealous maybe.


    Over Zack? Seriously?


    ¡°Nice to see you, too, Lizzie,¡± Tristan quips, practically tossing the cards out. ¡°Thanks for the greeting.¡±


    ¡°I was getting there,¡± she says, looking taken aback. There¡¯s something more between them than a simple friendship and an amicable breakup. I¡¯m pretty sure Tristan¡¯s still into her. Lizzie steps back and hooks her arm through her friend¡¯s. ¡°This is Marcel Stone, my date for the evening.¡± She touches the back of his hand, but I notice Marcel is more interested in smirking at Tristan than paying attention to his date.


    Lizzie adjusts her hand and the lights catch on a ring on her finger.


    Tristan notices it right away, and goespletely stiff.


    ¡°Did she mention we just got engaged?¡± Marcel asks, his brown eyes locked on Tristan¡¯s gray ones. I remember Andrew saying a lot of the students at Burberry Prep were engaged, but to hear Miranda tell it, these are more like tentative business arrangements. Students still do what-and whom-they want.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°We¡¯re sort of testing the waters,¡± Lizzie adds as Tristan¡¯s face goes from nk to red to an ashen sort of gray. ¡°We¡¯re not actually getting married until after we graduate college, but our parents ¡­¡±


    ¡°The Waltons and the Stones, a medieval match to join two great families.¡± Tristan narrows his eyes and res at Zack. ¡°Well, put your blind down.¡±


    Zack res right back at him, but pushes forward a stack of chips. Lizzie, meanwhile, just stands there, looking lost. I actually feel sorry for her. No fifteen year old wants to get engaged, especially not to some random guy her parents picked for money or prestige. I thought that stuff stopped happening in the middle ages.


    ¡°Tristan,¡± she begins, but he¡¯s so furious right now, his hands are shaking as he holds them in hisp, waiting for y to pass around the table. ¡°Can we talk? You know I still want to be friends.¡±


    ¡°Get fucked, Lizzie,¡± he says, but there¡¯s a sadness in his voice that isn¡¯t faked. He misses her. I start to wonder if this is the reason they broke up, the reason her dad doesn¡¯t want her talking to him. Her face falls, and she lets go of Marcel¡¯s arm toe around the table, taking up a chair behind me.


    She watches us y, her presence bringing up so much noticeable tension in Tristan that he¡¯s impossible to read. He bets everything, and I can¡¯t decide if it¡¯s because he¡¯s really got a good hand, or if it¡¯s because he¡¯s angry. I take a risk.


    At the end, ites down to the two of us, and when he ms his cards face up on the table, I feel my stomach knot painfully. He¡¯s got three of a kind; I¡¯ve got two pair. We¡¯re both full of shit, but that still means I lose.


    ¡°Guess we all you owe blow jobs, huh?¡± Zayd asks, but Tristan isn¡¯t in the mood tough, and my eyes are bugging out of my skull. If he asks for that to satisfy the favor he¡¯s just won, I¡¯ll kill him.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack begins, but my skin is all hot, and I can practically taste the freedom that¡¯s being promised me. A whole year without being bothered.


    I could focus on my studies, have fun with Miranda, walk the halls without worrying ¡­


    ¡°Again,¡± I say, and I hear a small gasp from Lizzie. ¡°Same stakes?¡±


    But Tristan is already pushing up from the table, his eyes dark, lips pursed. ¡°I¡¯m done here,¡± he says, and then he storms off. Lizzie rises from her seat like she might go after him, but then stops cold. After a moment, she turns to me, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Marcel watches the whole thing with a scowl, and I decide then that even though I don¡¯t like Tristan, I like


    this guy even less..


    ¡°Do you think we could trade numbers?¡± Lizzie asks me after a moment, and my mouth pops open in surprise. ¡°I felt a connectionst night, I dunno.¡± She smiles and then pulls her phone from her purse, offering it up to me. ¡°I mean, it never hurts to make new friends, right?¡±


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± I reply, plugging my phone number into her contacts list and then texting myself, so I¡¯ll have her number on hand, too. ¡°I haven¡¯t exactly made a lot of friends at Burberry ¡­¡±


    ¡°No shit,¡± Zayd snorts, but we both ignore him. Lizzie takes her phone, and her obnoxious fiance, and disappears into the crowd. ¡°Well, Tristan won¡¯t be back tonight. He¡¯s been carrying a torch for Lizzie Walton since elementary school. When her Dad forbid them from seeing each other, he was gutted.¡± Zayd picks up a bottle of beer from the case on the ground next to him, and pops the top, downing most of it in one go. ¡°He¡¯s probably off to find some Pleb to lick his wounds.¡±


    My face scrunches up at that, but I don¡¯t say anything. I¡¯m not surprised. ¡°If you still want to y,¡± Creed says, ignoring Zayd and the incident


    pletely. His eyes are locked on me, and my heart races wildly in my chest. ¡°I¡¯m in. There¡¯s another five grand in it for you, too.¡±


    ¡°We should go,¡± Zack growls at me, but when I pick up the cards to deal, he just sighs and stays right where he is.


    Unfortunately, I¡¯m too full of myself, too desperate to show these guys who¡¯s boss. Creed¡¯s been watching me all night, picking up my tells. He takes the next round, and even though I know I should stop, that I¡¯m pushing too hard, and too far, I raise my chin up.


    ¡°Again.¡±


    The looks on Zayd¡¯s and Creed¡¯s faces should¡¯ve been my first warning. Zack puts his hand on my knee and squeezes, but I ignore him, determined to win this, desperate for it.


    Zayd deals, we y ¡­ and I lose. Again

 45

    Lunch with Andrew the next day is pleasant, easy, no hidden threads of intent in his voice. We talk about his family¡¯s beach home in Hawaii, about the winter formal next month, and I briefly tell him about my home in the old train car. There¡¯s no judgement in his face, and when he asks me if we can go out sometime, it¡¯s a yes. That spark of interest I thought I saw the first day of school is still there; I can see it when he looks at me.


    Andrew invites me to spend Thanksgiving with a family friend of his who has a country home near the academy, but I¡¯ve already made ns with Zack. Dinner at his family¡¯ske house ends up involving just the two of us, and a huge catered meal with all the usual fixings. It¡¯s delicious, but kind of lonely, especially since I can sense that Zack¡¯s frustrated about something. I figure it¡¯s about his parents and their friends cancelling over ast-minute business meeting, but he¡¯s impossible to read and I don¡¯t ask.


    I still don¡¯t quite get why he invited me over in the first ce, or why he¡¯s suddenly so interested in me and my dad again.


    ¡°Who cares why he showed up?¡± Miranda groans, putting her hands over her face and then dropping them into herp. She¡¯s definitely shipping me and Zack. When I told her what happened while she was gone, she was strangely close-lipped about everything. She didn¡¯t even weigh in on my date with Andrew. But right now, I can¡¯t seem to shut her up. ¡°He clearly likes you. Besides that, he has an amazing body, he could go pro in football if he wanted, and he¡¯s got that overprotective quality that I like.¡±


    ¡°Are you dating him or am I?¡± I ask, smiling as we walk down the halls to the sound of sweet, sweet anonymity. It¡¯s been two weeks since the party at the casino, and nobody¡¯s bothered me. No rude notes shoved into my locker, or condoms pushed under my door. They¡¯ve briefly stopped calling me the Working Girl, and I¡¯ve been left alone to practice the harp in peace, eat in The Mess, or even go for a swim in the academy pool.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, Zack¡¯s a good guy. I like him.¡± Miranda swings her leather bookbag as we walk, heading for the gym. Harper, Becky, Abigail, and Valentina have made this ss a living hell for me, snickering about my body behind raised hands, shouting at me when I¡¯m on the diving board, stealing my towel when I¡¯m in the showers. But not since casino night. I¡¯m actually starting to enjoy learning how to swim properly. Beforeing to Burberry Prep, all I could manage was a shaky dog paddle.


    Of course, in the back of my mind, I know this peace is on a time-limit, and I¡¯m counting down the days until the first of the new year with dread. That, and ¡­ there¡¯s all the rest of it. I didn¡¯t just y the guys once and lose. I yed three times, and lost three times. How that happened, I have no idea. I should¡¯ve just let it go after the first loss.


    At least I now have fifty-five thousand dors in my ount-forty for the first game we yed, and an additional five for each of the three rounds I lost. I feel like I let my greed get the best of me, and my cheeks flush just remembering it.


    I¡¯ve decided that for now, I¡¯m going to save it for college.


    On the plus side, Lizzie and I have been texting since the casino, and I feel like we¡¯re actually starting to be friends. Miranda seems guarded whenever I mention her, but I¡¯m guessing that has more to do with Tristan than Lizzie herself.


    I try not to think about what I owe the Idols. A favor. A kiss. A secret.


    Miranda holds open the door to the gym, and I step inside, mming into a chest so hard that it hurts my nose.


    Creed is standing there, and he narrows his eyes as I reach up to rub at my face.


    ¡°Your pecs are painful,¡± I grumble, but he¡¯s already ignoring me, focusing on his sister instead.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t spoken to me in weeks. I¡¯m sick of it.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ll follow me into the girls¡¯ locker room?¡± Miranda asks, pursing her lips. Her eyes brim with sudden tears. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just control my entire life?¡± She turns to leave, and I¡¯m so shocked that I just stand there. Creed, however, reaches out and grabs hold of her upper arm, keeping her in ce. ¡°Tristan told me you were sniffing around, asking everyone at the party about me.¡± She tries to pull from her brother¡¯s grip, but his fingers tighten until she winces. He sees, and an almost imperceptible muscle in his jaw twitches before he lets go. ¡°If you want to know something, Creed, then ask me yourself.¡± She res at her brother, nostrils ring, left hand curled in the pleats of her skirt.


    ¡°Who are you dating, and how did Derrick fuck-face get a hold of nude photos?¡±


    ¡°Derrick ¡­¡± Miranda starts, cheeks flushing. I told her what happened at the lodge, but sheughed it off, saying that Derrick Barr was just a texting fling. She showed me the images that Creed was referring to, rationalizing that she was wearing a bra so they ¡®weren¡¯t really nudes¡¯. I didn¡¯t know what to say to that. Doesn¡¯t matter how naked she was in those pics, that didn¡¯t give Derrick and his friends a right to pass them around and make vulgarmentary. I¡¯m almost d he got his ass handed to him by Creed and Tristan. ¡°He¡¯s nothing.¡±


    ¡°Are you screwing Tristan?¡± Creed asks, blue eyes sparking with rage. My mouth drops open. He came to the same conclusion as I did ¡­ I remember Abigail¡¯s face when Tristan whispered in her ear. He¡¯s a monster, no doubt about that. Just before Zayd and I left the casino, I found him and asked what he¡¯d said, and he smiled at me. ¡°I told her she Fould never have me. Nobody Fan. And if by some miraFle, I were going to Fhoose a girl, it sure as hell wouldn¡¯t be her.¡± Tristan smirked at me then, leaning close and putting his cheek against mine. ¡°I said I¡¯d rather date the eager little Fharity Fase.¡± And then he¡¯d pulled back and left in his father¡¯s car.


    ¡°Tristan?¡± Miranda chokes out, sounding nervous. She flicks her gaze in my direction, and then shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye, just ¡­ tell coach I¡¯m having period cramps.¡± She turns and takes off down the hall, her bookbag and ponytail bobbing.

 46

    Creed and I turn and look at each other, almost in unison. He frowns at me.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had two weeks, and I haven¡¯t heard shit.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± I start, as he reaches up and shoves some of that white-blonde hair of his from his face. He¡¯s scowling now, and I¡¯m reminded of his expression when he challenged Derrick on the back deck. When ites to family, Creed is dead serious. ¡°She hasn¡¯t told me anything, Creed. We talk about everything exFept for her love life. Literally, I could tell you your sister¡¯s favorite brand of tampons, but not who she¡¯s dating.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± Creed says, closing his eyes. He looks tired for real right now, leaning up against the wall with his shoulder. The bored princely routine is put on hold for the briefest of instances, and I find my cheeks heating up. I imagine this doesn¡¯t happen often. ¡°I¡¯d rather not know that about Miranda.¡±


    ¡°She is your twin, after all,¡± I joke, trying to force a smile. Too much. Creed¡¯s eyes snap open and he stands up straight, locking his insouciant expression back into ce. ¡°But I¡¯m worried about her, too. She¡¯s being kind of ¡­ distant. She barely talks to me, she got mad at me for texting Lizzie, and when Tristanes around, she bolts. The only other person she seems to talk to besides me is Andrew.¡±


    ¡°Andrew, huh?¡± Creed starts, thinking for a moment.


    ¡°Creed!¡± Harper calls out, waving enthusiastically from the other side of the gym. ¡°Hurry up and get changed. We¡¯ve got a bet going on which boy can get the bestp times.¡± She drops her hand and turns to go, but not before giving me an angry little scowl and a supremely bitchy hair-toss.


    ¡°You think Miranda¡¯s dating Andrew?¡± I ask. ¡°But what about Tristan?¡± At the sound of his fellow Idol¡¯s name, Creed starts scowling again.


    ¡°If I find out he¡¯s banging my sister, I¡¯ll kill him.¡± Creed pauses, like he¡¯s just realized who he¡¯s talking to. His face shuts down, like he¡¯s got that arrogant heir look on speed dial. ¡°Don¡¯t forget our bet.¡±


    I roll my eyes.


    ¡°Like I could if I tried. I don¡¯t know anything.¡±


    He looks me up and down, narrows his eyes, and then turns to head in the direction of the boys¡¯ locker room. The tardy bell in the chapel sounds, and I groan.


    I am now officiallyte to ss. Thanks, Creed.


    Our chemistry teacher, Mrs. Zimmerman, is ancient, like eighty-something years old. She moves slow, but her mind is like a whip. I¡¯ve seen her silence Tristan with a singlemand. On Friday, she has us meet in the lecture hall instead of theb room.


    ¡°What the hell is this for?¡± Harper asks, popping her hip out. She seems to hate Mrs. Zimmerman with a fiery passion. Maybe because she¡¯s one of the only teachers on campus that doesn¡¯t bow to the Bluebloods?N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°We¡¯re switchingb partners,¡± Mrs. Z croaks, ring at Harper through the thick lenses of her sses. Her white hair is gathered into a bun on the top of her head, and she looks elegant in a white button-down blouse and floral skirt. She may be the only teacher at Burberry Prep besides Mrs. Amberton and Ms. Hignd that doesn¡¯t dress like a politician.


    ¡°Switching?¡± Harper shrieks, and I cringe. She sounds like a dinosaur sometimes. Every time she shouts like that, I imagine that gif with the screaming guy and the words pterodaFtyl sFreeFh written across the bottom. ¡°Why?¡± She immediately looks to me, like I¡¯ve somehow orchestrated this whole thing.


    ¡°Familiarity breedsziness.¡± Mrs. Z turns on the screen at the front of the ssroom, and shows off a list of grades with names next to them. Shame, never underestimate its effect on student motivation. Before I was even allowed to sign up for sses at Burberry Prep, Dad and I had to sign a waiver that allowed the school to publish student grades. ¡°Take a good look at this list.¡±


    I bite my lower lip. Miranda (who still isn¡¯t here yet) and I take the number three spot while Tristan and Harper are in first ce. Even though I hate to admit it, keeping up with Tristan on an academic level is tough. Guess he¡¯s smarter than he looks.


    ¡°Tristan and I are doing well together. What right do you have to separate us?¡± Harper runs her tongue along her lower lip as she scowls.


    ¡°A right that was earned with three doctorates and time spent tutoring royalty in Europe. You are not the most special person in this ss, Miss du


    Pont. You¡¯re relying on Mr. Vanderbilt to carry your partnership. Same with Miss Reed and Miss Cabot, who I see has chosen not to join us today.¡± I cringe a little when Miranda stumbles into the sste, tripping as she struggles to make her way down the steps and slide into the seat next to mine. ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve decided to grace us with your presence I see.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Miranda whispers as Mrs. Z points from her to Harper. ¡°Pair up.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Harper¡¯s got her pterodactyl screech thing going on again.


    ¡°Mr. Vanderbilt, Miss Reed, you¡¯re paired up.¡± She continues down the line, directing students together. Harper¡¯s still gaping when Miranda gets up to sit beside her. Tristan slides onto the stool next to me, his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn¡¯t seem nearly as bothered as Harper.


    ¡°This must be your worst nightmare, huh?¡± I ask, and he slides those gray eyes of his in my direction. A smile grabs the edge of that wicked mouth of his.


    ¡°My worst nightmare? Hardly. More like yours.¡± Tristan turns to look at me, reaching out to straighten my tie. His fingers brush across the tops of my breasts, and my breath leaves me in a rush. Harper is staring at us, eyes ming, like I¡¯m the girl standing between her and her intended future fiance. Ironically, I might be the only girl in the ss that Tristan hasn¡¯t slept with. ¡°If we didn¡¯t have our little bet, I¡¯d destroy you.¡± He pauses, considering. ¡°Although I suppose that somehow, even with your piss poor public school education, you excel academically. I figured you were fucking some of the professors, but I don¡¯t imagine you run to Mrs. Z¡¯s tastes.¡± He nces toward the front of the room where Harper is now standing, arguing with Mrs. Z in hushed, angry tones.


    ¡°That¡¯s such an ignorant, misogynistic thing to say, I¡¯m not even going toment.¡± I open myptop and download next week¡¯sb materials, opening the documents up and scanning the experiment as Tristan watches me.


    ¡°How do you do so well? If you¡¯re not screwing anyone, then what is it?


    Pity? Affirmative action?¡±


    ¡°Try hard work and determination,¡± I snap, mming the top on myputer closed. My eyes meet Tristan¡¯s, but it¡¯s hard to hold his stare. He¡¯s just so ¡­ ugh. He¡¯s got this cavalier attitude toward me that started on day one. Also, he¡¯s too pretty for his own good. The worst part is that he¡¯s fully aware of his looks. ¡°Getting into this school was one of the hardest things


    I¡¯ve ever done. I spent my entire eighth grade year gunning for this schrship and this position.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent my entire life working to get into this school.¡± Tristan stares down at me from eyes that are the color of the stormy sky above the sea, a t gray with iing clouds, thick with thunder and flickering with lightning. ¡°For four generations, the Vanderbilts have taken valedictorian at Burberry Prep. If that¡¯s your goal, I suggest you move to a different school.¡±


    ¡°Last I checked, I was still number one in the first year ss,¡± I quip, and his face tightens. But Harper¡¯s finally stomped up to sit next to Miranda, seething, her fingers digging into her pale thighs so tightly that I can see red marks. Mrs. Z starts her lecture, and I pull out my tablet to take notes.


    Tristan doesn¡¯t speak to me the rest of the day, but I know he heard me. And I know he means to fi


    ght back.


    Come January, I am so screwed.

 47

    On Friday, Zayd appears at my door, slipping in before Miranda and Andrew get a chance to close it.


    ¡°You were not invited in here,¡± I say, but he ignores me, green eyes taking in my friends without interest, and then flicking over to me.


    ¡°No, but I have something I want from you.¡± He pauses and raises both eyebrows, his uniformpletely unbuttoned, tie loose and lopsided. He¡¯s stuck a pin through thepel on the jacket, obscuring the Burberry Prep crest. ¡°I¡¯m collecting on our little bet. And I want to do it at Becky tter¡¯s party tonight.¡±


    My cheeks me, and Andrew frowns. Miranda crosses her arms under her breasts and res at Zayd. She¡¯s in the Inner Circle, a member of the prestigious Burberry Bluebloods, she¡¯s allowed to do that. Her connection to Creed makes her invincible. As long as he¡¯s in power, so is she.


    ¡°Where is Becky having her party? Because I wasn¡¯t invited.¡± Miranda nces over at Andrew, and he sighs.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t tell me about it either.¡±


    ¡°Naw, because you two are always up here in the Brothel.¡± Zayd scoops a handful of peanuts from the bowl on my counter. ¡°She¡¯s telling everyone you three are in some sort of fucked-up menage rtionship, and that you¡¯ve all got cmydia or something. Or was it gonorrhea?¡± He pauses to pop the peanuts into his mouth, eyes darkening. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing: I want to bang Becky tter. She responds well to jealousy, and you know, she freaking


    hates you, Charity. Come to the party, dance with me a little, and then kiss me.¡±


    My mouth opens and then snaps closed.


    ¡°These bets are stupid,¡± Miranda snaps, pushing blond hair back from her face. She looks just like Creed when she does that. ¡°This is why I¡¯ve never joined the Infinity Club. It¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    ¡°The Club is so much more than that, and you know it.¡± Zayd smiles at me, and then lifts his shirt, showing off his infinity tattoo. ¡°So fucking mysterious, right? Girls always ask me about it when they¡¯re going down on me.¡± He drops the fabric, and I frown. I¡¯m not impressed.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried that I know too much?¡± I ask dryly, my heart pounding. Thest thing I want to do tonight is party-especially not with Zayd. And kiss him? I mean, it wouldn¡¯t be our first kiss. The one on Halloween might¡¯ve been though if Zack and I hadn¡¯t had exactly one incredible make out session before we broke up.


    ¡°Uh, why? My dad pays over a million for security a year. If you started running your mouth, he could just, like, send his goons after you.¡± Zayd reaches up and musses with his hair. He wears a lot of eyeliner which bothers the hell out of Miranda. I haven¡¯t admitted it to her yet, but I think he looks really good with it. Makes his emerald eyes pop. ¡°Party¡¯s at Becky¡¯s parents¡¯ ce, about an hour from here. Her folks only use that house when they¡¯ve got a horsepetition or what the hell ever. She says it¡¯ll be dead, no teachers, no police, in the middle of nowhere.¡±


    ¡°Guessing the dress code is per the usual: slutty, short, and tight?¡± Miranda asks.


    ¡°Preferably,¡± Zayd says, chuckling. He sits down on my bed like he intends to wait for me. He crosses his feet at the ankles, and I realize he¡¯s wearing boots instead of loafers. So this is his change of clothes for the party. He notices me looking and gestures with his chin. ¡°Couple of other schools might show up tonight. I want to represent.¡± That¡¯s when I notice what his pin says: Idol. Wow, how subtle.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wear my uniform with some sneakers then,¡± I say and Zayd groans, pushing up from my bed and going straight for my wardrobe again. ¡°Excuse you, we are not friends. Get your hands out of my freaking clothes.¡± Zayd tosses a tight ck tank top at me, grabs my leather jacket next, and then steals my red Prada heels from Halloween.


    ¡°Put this shit on with your skirt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not wearing heels to a party. I can barely walk in them.¡± I dump the pile on the bed, but maybe I will wear the tank and jacket. The crisp white academy blouses can be stifling, and they¡¯re expensive as hell. When I picked up my uniforms from the tailor, I had to sign a zeroed out bill. It was for over five thousand dors. ¡°And besides, our bet was for a kiss, not a party.¡±


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± Zayd says,ing over to stand in front of me. I keep thinking of him as shorter than Creed and Tristan because he¡¯s always slouching. Standing straight in front of me like he is now, I can see that that¡¯s not true at all. I crane my neck to look up at him. ¡°Youe to the party, dance with me, and I¡¯ll consider that payment for the kiss.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re really interested in Becky tter, huh?¡± I ask, but all Zayd does isugh.


    ¡°Interested?¡± Miranda echoes, shaking her head. ¡°He just wants to check her name off his bingo list.¡± Zayd doesn¡¯t deny her usations, sliding his phone from his pocket and tapping out a text message.


    ¡°Yeah, so? Becky¡¯s a bitch anyway. What do you care if I bag her?¡± he lifts his green eyes up from the screen and cocks a brow. ¡°You should hear the crap she talks behind your back, Working Girl.¡±


    ¡°What other people think about me is none of my business,¡± I say, and Miranda grins. That¡¯s a RuPaul quote right there. ¡°But fine. I¡¯ll go to the party, dance for a few songs, and my obligation is cleared?¡±N?velDrama.Org content.


    Zayd gives me a thumbs-up, and a smirk, ncing over at Andrew. He hasn¡¯t said much, just leaned against the wall, watching our exchange. Maybe ¡­ he¡¯s jealous that I¡¯m going out with Zayd tonight? I don¡¯t know. I mean, not that I encourage fragile masculinity and over-the-top jealousy, but a little proof that someone cares is never a bad thing, right?


    ¡°What about you, Payson? Take Miranda and make it a double date?¡± Zayd leers at him and reaches up to twist tufts of his sea green hair into spikes.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d rather stay home tonight, if that¡¯s okay with you?¡± Miranda asks, answering for Andrew. ¡°If you need my support, I¡¯lle, but nobody in the Inner Circle will defy Tristan¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not just Tristan¡¯s orders,¡± Zayd snaps, and I get the idea that both he and Creed resent the fact that everyone acts like Tristan¡¯s the king of the school. ¡°And she¡¯s right: you¡¯ll be safe tonight. If anyone rags on you,


    they¡¯re socially fucked. Even Harper knows that if she messes with you, she¡¯ll lo


    se her chances with Tristan.¡±

 48

    ¡°Stay home,¡± I tell Miranda, thinking about her expression when Creed confronted her in the gym. My eyes flick to Andrew but only for a second. I don¡¯t want Zayd to know what I¡¯m thinking, not yet. If I get confirmation that she¡¯s dating Andrew or Tristan or whoever else, I have to tell Creed. But I don¡¯t have to share that information with Zayd. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    ¡°Love you,¡± she says, kissing me on the cheek. I think she means it, too, and I smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take off, too, but maybe I¡¯lle to the partyter?¡± Andrew gives me a quick hug, and whispers in my ear. ¡°Don¡¯t let the Idols bulldoze you.¡± He stands back up, waving as he heads into the hall with Miranda.


    ¡°They are so fucking,¡± Zayd says as soon as the door ms closed.


    ¡°They are not,¡± I blurt automatically, thinking about my date with Andrew. ¡°Why do you say that?¡±


    ¡°Anyone who hasn¡¯t figured that out yet is either blind, or named Creed Cabot.¡± Zayd gestures at the stack of clothes on my bed and then taps the fancy watch on his inked wrist. ¡°Hurry up, Charity, I¡¯ve got a one Becky tter to incense with your presence.¡±


    ¡°Why would Creed not know?¡± I ask, gathering the clothes into my arms.


    Zayd rolls his emerald eyes at me.


    ¡°He knows everything about everything except when ites to his sister.


    She shuts him out, and he hates it.¡±


    ¡°Could she be dating Tristan?¡± I ask, and Zayd howls withughter. ¡°Tristan? Fuck no. He¡¯d be an idiot to tap Miranda. Maybe in a long,


    drawn-out fight Tristan would win, but Creed would make his life a living hell. They¡¯d both tear each other down so far that neither of them would be Idols again. Maybe he suspects Tristan, but there¡¯s no way.¡±


    Filing that information away forter, I slip into the bathroom to change. But I definitely don¡¯t wear the heels.


    Zayd drives us to the party in the same Maserati as before, taking the turns so fast that I end up white-knuckled and clinging to the seat. I most definitely don¡¯t fall asleep this time.


    The house we pull up to is several stories tall, and as wide as the academy¡¯s main building. There are floor-to-ceiling windows along the entire length of the ground floor, and all of them are open, people spilling out into the front courtyard.


    Zayd pushes his way through them with the car, rolling down the window and hooting as he ms on the horn. Nobody seems to care that he parks half on the front step, leaving the vehicle at an awkward angle.


    ¡°Come on, Charity,¡± Zayd says, holding out his hand for me. I have no choice but to take it, scooting across the driver¡¯s seat to get out. Because of the way we¡¯re parked, I can¡¯t open my door; it¡¯s blocked by a giant square of cement with a statue perched on the top. Zayd pulls me out and I stumble, falling into him. My heart pounds so loud that it drowns out the crowd around us. When he leans down and puts his mouth a hairsbreadth from mine, I stop breathing. If I inhaled, our mouths would meet. ¡°You¡¯re mine for the night, ¡®kay? And I can be a very possessive asshole.¡±


    I move to take a step back, and end up pressed against the side of the Maserati. Zayd puts his palms on either side of my shoulders, his smile a smoldering ember that threatens to fall and burn me.


    ¡°Fine, whatever,¡± I snap, feeling sweat trickle down my spine. ¡°For the bet. Just make sure nobody bothers me tonight.¡± Zayd chuckles, and puts his face up against mine, murmuring against my skin.


    ¡°You got it, Working Girl.¡± He pushes up from the car and turns to head up the stairs, pping palms with some of the other guys. Several girls re at me, but none of them are in the Inner Circle, so I don¡¯t know their names. Nobody¡¯s been nice to me, and the Idols and Inner Circle have been the cruelest. Know thy enemies, right?


    ¡°Slut,¡± one of the girls spits as I walk up the steps. I turn to look at her, but she¡¯s got on a pale blue Beverly Hills Prep jacket. The girl next to her, who I vaguely recognize from gym, is grinning maniacally. Using a student from another school to attack me. It¡¯s sort of a brilliant move. ¡°We¡¯ve all heard about your exploits.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what exploits those are,¡± I tell her, a light breeze teasing my rose gold hair around my face. ¡°But regardless, what right does that give youContent provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    to harass me? You should probably take a women¡¯s studies ss or something, and read up on internalized misogyny.¡±


    ¡°The hell are you even talking about, you bitch dyke?¡± the Beverly Hills girl snaps, taking a step toward me.


    ¡°She¡¯s telling you to fuck off, and I¡¯m strongly encouraging it,¡± Zayd snaps, appearing at the top of the steps. Beverly Hills girl looks taken aback, but apparently even she knows who the Burberry Prep Idols are. ¡°And rissa, you think you can work through a puppet and not get caught? You¡¯re off the swim team for the season.¡±


    ¡°Zayd!¡± she cries out, but he¡¯s hooking his arm through mine and pulling me up the steps. He pauses, once, at the top to look back at her. His face is as dark as Creed¡¯s, but white-hot instead of ice-cold.


    ¡°Bother Charity again before the first, and risk your own neck. If I hear you¡¯ve been at swim practice, you can forget going to the winter formal with Sai.¡± Zayd turns back around, and the anger disappears from his face. He escorts me through the massive front doors, and I do my best not to gape at the beauty of the house. Because, I mean, it does belong to Becky tter, and she¡¯s a horrible person, but ¡­


    ¡°This house,¡± I start, blinking in shock, ¡°looks just like the Magnolia ntation in Charleston. It was built in 1676, and burned during the-¡±


    The look Zayd throws me is nine parts confusion and one part peaked interest.


    ¡°You actually give a crap about that stuff? A house is a house, right? Who cares?¡± I roll my eyes, but he¡¯s already dragging me past a curving staircase, original wood moldings, and across floors that I suspect might actually be cypress. Damn. Cypress is protected now, but back in the day, it wasmonly used for building in the south. To see it in California is really weird, and speaks of great wealth. Either Becky¡¯s family has always been rich, or else they bought this house from someone else with an affluent family legacy. ¡°Dance floor¡¯s this way.¡±


    We move down a long hallway, filled with pictures of a smiling Becky and her family. Every single one of them is blonde and blue-eyed, all of them tall and thin. They stare at us as we pass through the shadowy hall with couples making out, and emerge into a giant ballroom of sorts.


    There¡¯s a DJ in the corner, tables littered with ss alcohol bottles, and the distinct smell of weed.


    Different location, same party I¡¯ve seen a dozen times.


    Zayd gets himself a drink and hands me an unopened can of soda, tossing his shots of rum back faster than I can sip my own drink. How we¡¯re going to get back to campus with him drunk off his ass is beyond me. I won¡¯t get in a car with a drunk guy, regardless of any bets.

 49

    ¡°Becky¡¯s in the corner,¡± he tells me, pointing her blond head out. She¡¯s twerking on John Hannibal, his hands all over her hips. To be honest, they both look ridiculous. ¡°Let¡¯s make our way to the middle.¡± Zayd reaches down and takes my hand, his fingers burning a brand into my skin. My throat feels suddenly dry, and I throw back the rest of my soda before Zayd pulls the can from my fingers and hands it to some random guy. ¡°Pleb,¡± he exins, like the other students at Burberry Prep are his personal ves.


    ¡°I¡¯m not really a good-¡± I start as Zayd spins and then pulls me into his arms. A pop-rock song starts up all of a sudden, and I realize as he grins that this is his music.


    ¡°Just mold your body to mine, and I¡¯ll take care of you.¡± Zayd pulls me close to him, and I quickly find out that the way he moves his body is as infectious as his smile. He¡¯s a born performer, bouncing to the tune and mouthing along to the words as he grabs my hand and gives me a spin. He even dips me, and I find my heartrate picking up as the crowd moves back from our spot in the center of the room, directly beneath the crystal chandelier above our heads.


    Nobody else seems to know how to dance to this sort of music, so they just watch. Becky tter is front and center, her face burning. Harper stands beside her with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed on us.


    ¡°Show off!¡± she calls out, and the group gathered around her titters. ¡°Kissing you is like kissing the stars. FuFking you is like sleeping with


    sirens. Your touFh is a hot iron that burns, and I love you and all of your sFars.¡± Zayd¡¯s voice coos out of the speakers, this husky purr that gives me goose bumps. If he weren¡¯t such a jerk, I might actually look him up on Spotify or iTunes or something.


    The song ends, but another starts up right away, some dark, sweaty hip hop beat that Zayd embodies with his dance moves. His pelvis is pressed against me, his hands on my waist. The way he looks at me as we move is ¡­ I have to shake my head to clear it. I feel drowsy from the heat, and the dancing, and the way he¡¯s holding me.


    His hands slide up my waist, and my breathes in rapid pants. I¡¯m seriously close to passing out, and I can¡¯t decide if it¡¯s the press of the


    crowd, the heat, the fact that I haven¡¯t eaten since lunch ¡­ Zayd is full of wild chemistry, I can¡¯t deny that. He¡¯s been a jerk to me, but my body doesn¡¯t know that. Without even meaning to, I find myself leaning into his touch, my arms going around his neck.


    He presses his sweaty forehead to mine, and we grind together, working our way through three more songs. At this point, I think I can feel his hardness pressing up against me through the red fabric of his academy cks. It¡¯s super distracting.


    ¡°Zayd ¡­¡± I start as his mouth brushes up against mine. This is a bad idea, I think, but then it¡¯s happening and my breath is leaving in a rush. Zayd¡¯s lip rings tease my skin just before he closes that distance between us, his tongue sweeping my lower lip before he drives into my mouth. His inked hands tighten on my hips, and our bodies slow their motion, lips taking over the rhythm.


    I¡¯ve only ever kissed one guy before Zayd, and that was Zack. Zayd¡¯s kisses arepletely different, white-hot and sure of himself, like he knows he can get most any girl he wants. When Zack kissed me, it was with a dark possessiveness that scared me so bad that I stopped talking to him for a week after. Then he broke up with me, and I ¡­ maybe he was adverse to my kiss as much as I was to his?


    My arms tighten around Zayd¡¯s neck, and he presses deeper into me, melding our bodies into one. His tongue sweeps my own, controlling the kiss, but not overpowering me. It feels so good that it¡¯s hard to remember that he hates me, that he probably kisses all the other girls just like this.


    With a gasp, I find my rational brain hiding in there somewhere and push away from him, his grin sharpening, eyes locking onto mine. Wiping my arm across my mouth, I realize that I¡¯m shaking, that there¡¯s a warmth between my thighs that I¡¯m not used to.


    Zayd chuckles, low and seductive and suggestive, but at least most of the other students have gone back to dancing. The only ones still watching us are Harper, Becky, Valentina, and Abigail. Uh-oh. Their eyes track me as I turn and flee towards the door. Zayd had said my debt to him would be resolved by just dancing, and yet ¡­ I kissed him anyway.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    At least I don¡¯t have to worry about there being any doubt as to whether or not I yed by the Infinity Club rules.


    ¡°Whoa, Working Girl, where are you going?¡± Zaydes out behind me, but I¡¯ve stopped cold. Tristan¡¯s at the bottom of the steps with a girl pressed


    up against the statue on the opposite side from where Zayd¡¯s parked the car. He¡¯s kissing her, and one of her thighs is in his hand, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯re having sex ¡­ yet.


    He nces up at me with cold, gray eyes, and then ¡­ this sharp burst of anger and heat snaps through him, and he pushes away from the girl. She gapes after him and reaches for his arm, but he shakes her off.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he snaps, but not at me, at Zayd. When I nce back at the rocker boy, he¡¯s got his inked fingers tucked into his pockets, an arrogant smirk stretched across his face. ¡°We agreed you wouldn¡¯te tonight.¡±


    ¡°A suggestion was made, but it was never an agreement.¡± Zayd pauses as Creedes up behind him, his blue eyes snapping to mine and then back over to Zayd¡¯s face. ¡°If you wanted to make sure it didn¡¯t happen, you should¡¯ve bet me.¡± He tosses me the keys to the Maserati. ¡°Be my designated driver, Charity?¡±


    ¡°What about Becky?¡± I choke out, my brain whirling with the after effects of that kiss. I¡¯m not even going to try to decipher the fight that¡¯s going on between the three Idol boys. They won¡¯t tell me anything, even if I ask. ¡°I thought you were going to ¡®bag her tonight¡¯.¡± I can¡¯t keep a scowl off my own face as I squeeze the car keys in my palm.


    ¡°Nah, I think I put in enough face time with you to piss her off. Once she calms down though, she¡¯s mine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re despicable,¡± Creed drawls, but I don¡¯t think he means the Becky thing.


    ¡°Fuck you, Zayd,¡± Tristan growls out, his eyes burning as he takes me in. ¡°I hope you know you came to the party with a snake tonight.¡±


    ¡°As opposed to what?¡± I ask, because I can¡¯t shake that ck widow reference. Tristan is venomous, maniptive, content to wait and n his revenge. When he doesn¡¯t answer me, I turn and open the door to the Maserati. Zayd smirks at his friends (or are they even friends?) and then climbs into the passenger seat. I join him, start up the car, and put it in reverse. Even though I don¡¯t have my license, I¡¯ve been driving my dad around since I was thirteen. Sometimes he was just too drunk to do it himself.


    We drive back to Burberry Prep, but neither of us mentions the kiss. Zayd, because it probably doesn¡¯t mean much to him. Me, because it means a little too much.

 50

    Winter formal-and winter break-are fast approaching, but I don¡¯t know how I feel about that. I¡¯m enjoying a quiet life of studying and hanging out with Miranda and Andrew. Zack and I have been texting, but not as often as Lizzie and me. She seems really nice, and I¡¯m starting to look forward to her messages.


    ¡°I¡¯m dreading the New Year,¡± I groan, because it feels like time is slipping through my fingers. Not being bullied has put my year into hyper speed, and now I¡¯ve got anxious butterflies in my belly when I think of going back to that, this low grade anxiety buzzing through me, always wondering if I¡¯m being hunted. ¡°And I¡¯m not sure how I feel about going home either.¡±


    Miranda looks at me sympathetically, but her family¡¯s going to Paris for winter break. Staying in the big, cold academy with a skeleton staff was fine for fall break, but not over winter. I want to celebrate Christmas, decorate a tree, have a ham and sweet potatoes with marshmallows. Besides, I can¡¯t stay mad at my dad forever; I miss him.


    ¡°You seem to be getting along with the guys okay,¡± Miranda offers, her mouth twitching at one corner. I roll my eyes, but I know we¡¯re going to talk about this again. ¡°Those videos of you kissing Zayd-¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I groan, pausing outside the elevator in Tower One on our way to homeroom. ¡°I already told you, that was just part of a bet.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you say,¡± Miranda whistles, pausing as Tristan approaches us, sans his usual gaggle of girls. The elevator doors open, and he holds out a


    hand, gray eyes sharp and focused. He looks like he wants something. Oddly enough, he looks like he wants me. I¡¯ve had that thought many times over the past week, ever since the party at Becky¡¯s. I try to figure out when this shift happened, when the Idol guys started being marginally nicer to me, and I can pinpoint it to just after the Halloween party.


    Makes a girl wonder.


    ¡°Ladies first,¡± Tristan says, but it¡¯s said with such intense feeling, that a shiver runs down my spine. I¡¯m not about to argue, and I think the Idol/elevator rule is stupid, so I walk in and lean against the back wall with my bookbag held tightly in front of me. Tristan presses the button for floor twelve, and we all sit in silence. ¡°Miranda,¡± he says finally, but the doors are opening and she¡¯s scoffing, bolting out and into the ssroom without even waiting for me.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on between you two?¡± I ask him, and he drops a dark gaze on me. His raven-ck hair shines in the sunlight as we step into the ssroom. It¡¯s blue-ck, and feathered in the front so that it falls softly across his brow. I wonder what it¡¯d be like to run my fingers through it? The thought crosses my mind, and I feel a hot blush fill my cheeks.


    ¡°Going on between us?¡± he asks, like he¡¯s considering the question. ¡°Mm. Why don¡¯t you talk to your friend and fulfill your end of Creed¡¯s bet?¡± He moves into the ssroom ahead of me, but when his usual flock of girls bounces up to him, he brushes them aside and takes a seat, cracking open hisptop.


    Interesting.


    Something is definitely going on with the Idol guys. Harper watches Tristan for a moment before turning her narrow-eyed gaze to me, mouth tightening. She flips me off when he¡¯s not looking, and then turns away to take her seat next to him. Before she can pull out the chair, Tristan¡¯s grabbing the back of it and turning a dark re on his fellow Idol.


    An angry, whispered conversation passes between them before her eyes go wide and she storms off, nostrils ring with rage. After a minute, Tristan turns around and makes eye contact with me.


    ¡°This is your new seat,¡± he says, pulling the chair out, and then going back to hisptop.


    I¡¯m so shocked that I don¡¯t even argue, sliding into the chair as Harper sits next to Miranda. My best friend and I exchange a look across the room, but I can¡¯t decide if mine should be relief, excitement, or confusion.


    The guys are being nice to me, but why? And for how long?


    Some part of me knows it won¡¯tst. The rest of me ¡­ wishes that it would.


    Because Burberry Prep is a boarding school with strict on/off campus privileges, most of the students have had their winter formal gowns all along. Me, I couldn¡¯t afford one, so Miranda brings over some extra dresses for me to try on. It¡¯s like a repeat of Halloween all over again, me trying on things that are too tight, too short, not remotely my style.


    ¡°You can¡¯t wear holey jeans to the dance,¡± she tells me, eyeing my expression of distaste in the full-length mirror on the back of my wardrobe door. ¡°Just pick one. You look gorgeous in every single one.¡± Miranda leans back on my bed, dressed in a sparkling blue gown that shows off how stunning her natural eye color is. She¡¯s a goddess in pale blue, with her blond hair coiffed and decorated with pearls. And this isn¡¯t even her trying, just a practice run. On the day of, she¡¯ll be irresistible. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m pretty sure Andrew¡¯s going to ask you to go with him.¡±


    ¡°Andrew?¡± I ask, because after our one date, and that one time he put his hand on my knee, I haven¡¯t gotten any vibes off of him that he¡¯s interested in me. ¡°Really? I don¡¯t think he¡¯s into me like that.¡± I snap a photo of myself, and send it to Lizzie. I see the dancing dots that shows she¡¯s typing, and then I¡¯m inundated with screaming emoji faces.N?velDrama.Org content.


    You look freaking amazing! she sends, and I smile. That¡¯s all Miranda¡¯s said, too, but I don¡¯t feel pretty. Maybe it¡¯s just my nerves getting to me, but I¡¯m not as excited about the dance as I should be. On a whim, I also send the photo to Zack.

 51

    He doesn¡¯t answer right away, and I put my phone on the bed. My hands run down the silver sequined front of the dress, but I shake my head. It doesn¡¯t look right with my new, edgy haircut. A pang of agony goes through me when I imagine how nice my brte waves would¡¯ve looked with this outfit. Miranda could¡¯ve used some of her magic on me, twisting my unruly locks up into a fancy do.


    ¡°He told me he was thinking of asking you,¡± she says, sitting up and pushing around the sea of glittering dresses. ¡°You should go with him, even if it¡¯s just as a friend.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go with him?¡± I ask, and there¡¯s a tenseness in her shoulders that¡¯s impossible to miss. Hmm. ¡°Or maybe with Tristan? He seems to like you?¡± Miranda lifts her eyes up to me, brows raised, and then sheughs.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°Tristan¡¯s a jerk. No way in hell would I go with him. I¡¯ll probably just go with Creed, do the twin thing or whatever.¡± She pulls out the gold dress with the long sleeves, and the disturbingly low-cut back. It¡¯s super short, hitting me at mid-thigh, but it does look nice with my rose gold hair, and the skirt is flowy, like a fairy princess. The little girl in me is super attracted to it. ¡°I¡¯ll call my mom and ask her to get us an off-campus pass. We can take ask someone for a ride, and shop for new shoes. My treat.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t ask you to do that,¡± I start, but Miranda waves her hand, cutting me off.


    ¡°I want to do it. Besides, who doesn¡¯t love shoe shopping? I could use a new pair, too.¡± She lifts her foot up and wiggles around the shiny silver Cindere slipper. Pretty sure those are Louboutins. And they look basically unworn. Getting out of Burberry Prep for a while on a girl¡¯s day out sounds pretty awesome though ¡­


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, lifting up the gold dress for another inspection. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    Kathleen gets us an off-campus pass with no trouble, and even arranges for a driver to take us into the city. Unfortunately, Creed also decides to go with us.


    He sits on the opposite side of Miranda in the car¡¯s backseat, but his smell tickles my nostrils, like freshundry and soap. It¡¯s annoyingly addictive. Miranda fills the silence, but it¡¯s a mostly one-sided conversation, and I¡¯m beyond relieved when we pull up to the shoe boutique. It¡¯s situated in the


    small but exclusive little town of Lujo. It literally means luxury in Spanish, and it reminds me a little of the Coache Valley near LA.


    The street we¡¯re on is brick, lined with historical buildings, and designer shops. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve been back in town since leaving for Burberry Prep, and I feel a little dizzy with excitement when we climb out.


    ¡°Cafe first, then shoes. As important as high heels are, coffee is god.¡± Miranda hooks her arm through mine and pulls us into a sweet little cafe with high-backed leather chairs, a firece, and plush faux fur rugs on the brick floors. We study the chalkboard menu, and I decide on atte and a cheese danish while Miranda goes for full chocte overload and grabs a chocte brownie and a mocha.


    Creed pays for us, and then looks me over before turning his attention to his sister.


    ¡°Go find a table, and I¡¯ll bring our stuff over.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s being awfully mild-mannered today,¡± I say as we head through a small doorway and into a second seating area. It¡¯s much less crowded on this side, and we snag a spot on a small cream-colored sofa with silver-painted wood ents. I¡¯d so take it home with me if I could. I¡¯d take this whole street with me if possible. The inner architecture geek inside of me is squealing.


    ¡°Yeah, well, he¡¯s bound to his own rules, you know? He can¡¯t pick on you either.¡± Miranda leans back in the sofa and looks up at the antique chandelier above us.


    ¡°Are you guys ¡­ okay now?¡± I hedge, and she drops her eyes to mine. There¡¯s a pleading there, like she wants to talk to me about something, but there¡¯s no time for it. Creed appears, bncing two coffees and two tes. He deposits them in front of us and disappears again to grab his own foo


    d.


    ¡°We¡¯re always on shaky ground, Creed and me. I mean, we used to be super close as kids, but not since maybe sixth or seventh grade. He tries too hard to control me, and he never listens to our parents. They¡¯ve sort of given up on him a little. They know he¡¯ll get good grades, graduate, whatever, but he¡¯s done some really messed-up stuff. I think he might be jealous of my rtionship with Mom.¡± Miranda pauses as Creedes back and drapes himself over the leather chair across from us. He never just sits. No, it¡¯s always a production.


    ¡°You¡¯re buying shoes for the formal on Friday?¡± he asks, this small thread of interest in his normally bored voice.


    ¡°Marnye needs shoes,¡± Miranda starts, and then her eyes narrow like she¡¯s just thought of something. ¡°She also needs a date.¡±


    Creed stares his twin down, and it¡¯s like some secret hidden messages pass between them. Eventually, he licks his lips and then turns his full attention to me.


    ¡°Come to the winter formal with me.¡± Not a question, a statement. I raise an eyebrow.


    ¡°Really?¡± I ask, and I hate the way my voice sounds, a little too eager for my tastes. ¡°Why? You hate


    me.¡±


    ¡°I did. Not anymore.¡± Just that. Wow, the guy sure is loquacious. He puts his elbow on the arm of the chair and rests his chin in his palm. The pale blue of his eyes is picked up by the color of his shirt, the top two buttons undone, his ck jeans an edgy contrast against such a proper looking shirt. Creed¡¯s wearing men¡¯s dress shoes with a skull and crossbones on the toe, a little gothic for his tastes. When he sees me looking, his mouth curves up into a sharp smile. ¡°Paxton ckwell, have you heard of him?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I start, wondering where this is going. I pick up mytte while Miranda inhales her brownie. ¡°Why?


    ¡°

 52

    ¡°He¡¯s the lead singer of Beauty in Lies. They went on tour with Zayd¡¯s band, Afterglow. These shoes, Barker cks, are his favorite. He wears them to every concert.¡±


    I blink stupidly, taking a sip of my drink to cover up the silence. This is the longest and most normal conversation Creed and I have ever had. I¡¯m not even sure what to say.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t listen to rock or pop or really any mainstream music for that matter. Mostly, I¡¯m focused on Sophia Dussek or Catrin Finch.¡± I switch my coffee out for the Danish, and Creed watches me, like he¡¯s studying my every movement. I realize I haven¡¯t given him an answer to his question: should I go to the winter formal with this guy?


    ¡°Harpists,¡± Creed says, but not like he¡¯s at all unsure, more like he would expect any cultured person to recognize those names. ¡°Becky wants to kill you for taking her spot in the orchestra.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t take her spot; I¡¯m just a better yer. Besides, she¡¯s the understudy. That¡¯s a big deal, too.¡±


    Creed leans forward, hisshes long and curled, paler than his sisters, but not as fine as his hair. They¡¯ve got more of a golden-brown color, bringing more attention to those gorgeous eyes of his.


    ¡°You sweep into our school, and you destroy students who¡¯ve had every advantage in life. You y better, you study harder. People feel like you¡¯re taking the luxuries of their birthright away from them.¡±


    ¡°For all I¡¯ve heard themin that I¡¯m a charity case, taking other people¡¯s hard-earned money, nobody seems to be willing to actually work harder to beat me. They just want me to disappear.¡± Creed reaches out and touches the corner of my mouth with his knuckle.


    ¡°Crumb,¡± he exins, but my face is on fire, and Miranda is looking between the two of us like she¡¯s never seen us before. Creed proceeds to lick said crumb off which can only really be interpreted one way: he¡¯s hitting on me. ¡°So yes or no, will you go to the winter formal with me?¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t given me any reason to say yes,¡± I tell him, and hiszy lips curl into an insouciant smile. He picks up his coffee-ck, no sugar, no cream-and sips it, watching me over the rim of the mug. I guess he¡¯s not going to argue that point. He probably just thinks I¡¯ll give in.


    I make a point to ignore him while we finish our food and drinks, turning to Miranda and discussing her ns for the uing trip to Paris instead. She¡¯s been there so many times it¡¯s not that big of a deal to her, but my heart aches at the thought of seeing the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre or the Catbs. One day, if I stay on track, I¡¯ll be able to pay my own way across the world.


    Once we get inside the boutique-some ce called Chaussures du Monde-I¡¯mpletely gob smacked. ss shelves line every wall and go all the way up to the twenty foot ceiling with its vintage tin ceiling tiles and chandeliers.


    ¡°Impressive, right?¡± Miranda asks, breathless and excited. She pulls me over to a disy in the corner and starts pointing out things she thinks I should wear. Fortunately, after pointing out a good thirty or so pairs she wants me to try on, she gets distracted by shoes for her own outfit.


    I feel rather than hear Creed step up behind me.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    He reaches around me, his body brushing up against my back and giving me chills as he snags a pair of heels decorated with gold moons and silver stars. They¡¯re honestly perfect for the dress I¡¯m borrowing, but I can only imagine how expensive they are.


    ¡°Try these ones,¡± he whispers, voice so close to my ear that I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to ward off the strange fluttering feeling in my stomach. I turn around, expecting him to move back, but it doesn¡¯t quite


    work that way. My chest brushes up against his, and my breath escapes in a rush. Creed looks down at me for a long moment before reaching up to push a loose strand of rose gold hair away from my eyes. ¡°Can we see these in a thirty-seven?¡± he asks, and the associate helping us scurries off toply.


    ¡°That¡¯s creepy,¡± I tell him as he finally steps back, and I move over to sit on the curving gold couch that winds its way through the center of the store. It¡¯s just one continuous piece, and I have to wonder where they got it, and how they managed to squeeze it in the doors. ¡°How do you know my size?¡±


    ¡°Because Miranda¡¯s my twin, and you share shoes with her.¡± He waits for the associate toe back, and then takes the box from her hands. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± His voice brooks no argument, and his clothes and stance clearly speak to money, so the woman moves to the side and watches as Creed kneels in front of me.


    Oh. Wow.


    My heart is pounding as he looks up at me through strands of that silky white-blonde hair of his, and I wonder if this is what a peasant girl might feel like if a prince were to bow to her. My throat is tight, and I¡¯m having trouble remembering the Englishnguage.


    Slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, Creed pulls off the whitece ts I borrowed from Miranda, teasing the arch of my foot with his long fingers. My skin prickles with pleasure, and I have to close my eyes for a second to keep from moaning. When I open them, I see Creed pulling one of the heels from the box, reverently slipping my right foot into it. He ties the suede ankle sp, and then moves onto the other.


    When he¡¯s done, he stands up and holds out a hand for me.


    I¡¯m quivering a little, but I reach up and take it, feeling a small shock of electricity at his touch. He walks me the length of the store and back, our footsteps softened by the plush rug that covers the floor.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asks as we pause in front of a mirror. I¡¯ve only tried on one pair, but I think I¡¯m in love. With the shoes, I mean. In love with the shoes.


    ¡°They¡¯re beautiful, but far too expensive,¡± I start, but he cuts me off by turning to the sales associate. When I look up, I see his eyes burning with something that looks like desire.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take them,¡± he tells me, pulling out his wallet. He hands his card over to her, and she disappears behind the counter. Those ice-blue eyes fall


    on me, and it feels suddenly hard to breathe. Miranda has paused in her shopping spree to stare at us.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to winter formal with you,¡± I whisper, and Creed reaches out to touch my chin, lifting my gaze to his. His stare burns straight through my defenses and into the swirling depths of my emotions.


    ¡°Yes it does.¡±


    Creed leans down, and before I can even figure out how to react, he¡¯s brushing his lips over mine, and then pulling back. I¡¯m still reeling from the electric shock of his mouth on mine when he turns, grabs his card from the associate with two fingers, and walks right out the door.

 53

    ¡°Maybe this was a mistake?¡± I whisper as Miranda finishes my makeup andbs her fingers through my hair. We¡¯ve styled it simrly to how it was on Halloween, but with a little extra length, and Miranda¡¯s superior skills, it looks a hundred times better.


    I turn in my seat to look at her.


    ¡°What¡¯s a mistake? Going with Creed?¡± she blinks at me and steps back, her pale blue dress catching the light and sending shimmery sparkles across the walls of her bathroom. We¡¯ve never gotten ready in her apartment before, but seeing as Creed¡¯s not only stopped picking on me, but is also taking me to the dance, it seemed safe enough.


    But now, I¡¯m starting to worry that I¡¯m setting myself up for failure. ¡°What if this is, like, every teen movie ever made, where the popr guy


    asks the loser girl out and then throws eggs at her or takes something else to the dance ¡­¡± I trail off as Miranda stares me down like I¡¯ve lost my mind. She puts her hands on her hips and takes on a seriously scary facial expression.


    ¡°If Creed did that to you, he would lose me forever. He knows that.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s well-aware of that,¡± Creed drawls, appearing in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, the rest of his tall, muscr form dressed in a white-on-white-on-white suit. The pants, jacket, shirt, and shoes are all the same color. The only thing that¡¯s not is the tie, a bright gold to match my dress.


    My cheeks flush, and my hands curl into the sequined fabric.


    ¡°Your presence tonight is too valuable for me to fuck up,¡± he continues, moving into the room and holding out a corsage. It¡¯s made up of white roses, with one solid gold one in the center. Part of me wonders if it¡¯s real gold. Creed opens the box and puts it on my wrist, his fingers trailing across my sensitive skin and giving me chills all over.


    ¡°Valuable?¡± I ask, and he smirks, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.


    ¡°Zayd and Tristan, they¡¯re pissed off because they wanted to ask you first.¡± My brows go up at that. Not once did I ever get an indication that they were interested. I mean, they¡¯ve been nice enough to me, but onlyparatively to how shitty they treated me before. My palms get sweaty as Creed¡¯s eyes go heavy and half-lidded, drinking me in like my appearance is something to savor.


    Zack was not happy about the news that I was attending winter formal with Creed. I¡¯m not even sure why I told him in the first ce, but my stomach is all in knots now, and I¡¯m starting to second-guess myself. Maybe because I want this to work out so bad? I want to go with Creed and dance the night away, see him watching me across the room the way he¡¯s watching me now.


    ¡°Gross, get a room,¡± Miranda snorts, pushing past us and heading into the living room. After some encouragement from me, she and Andrew finally decided to go together. There¡¯s a warmth to her cheeks, too, that I don¡¯t miss. She¡¯s as excited as I am, and I¡¯m starting to think that I¡¯ve been staring this puzzle in the face all alone.


    Zayd was sure that Miranda and Andrew were together. I¡¯m starting to think that, too, although I can¡¯t figure out why he¡¯d ask me on a date, or why she¡¯d push me to go to tonight¡¯s dance with him. Something¡¯s off, especially in regards to Tristan. Maybe he knows? Maybe there¡¯s a reason none of them want Creed to know?


    He leads me out and over to elevator where Tristan, Zayd, and Andrew are already standing. Tristan and Andrew are ring at each other, but Miranda pretends not to notice, taking Andrew¡¯s arm and giving Creed a small sideways nce that only I seem to notice.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Where are your dates?¡± I ask the other two Idol boys. Creed stiffens up beside me, and he levels that icy re of his on his friends. Well, maybe


    peers is a better word choice. ¡°I assumed you two would be going with Harper and Becky?¡±


    Zayd grins and shrugs his shoulders, his suit jacket red and covered in pins, his pants tight and tucked into boots. His hair¡¯s slicked back nicely, and his tie is straight, but he¡¯s very much the picture of a rock star.


    ¡°Goin¡¯ stag, checkin¡¯ out my prospects,¡± he says, eyeing me up and down and then letting out a whistle. ¡°Although if this frigid fuck drives you off tonight, I¡¯ll be nice and warm and waiting. Lookin¡¯ hot there, Working Girl.¡± I narrow my eyes on him, but some small part of me warms at his words. Creed notices and slips an arm around my waist, pulling me close.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you two look pretty,¡± Tristan drawls, his gray eyes taking us in. I wonder if maybe he¡¯s holding out on taking a date because of Lizzie or something, but she assures me they haven¡¯t talked since the night at the casino. Still, I think he¡¯s in love with her. ¡°What an enchanting couple you¡¯ll make.¡± His words are dry and sarcastic, and he seems salty as hell, but for the life of me I can¡¯t figure out why.


    ¡°No date?¡± I ask again, but Tristan ignores me, stepping into the elevator as soon as the doors are open. We head down to the first floor and join the crowd in the courtyard. Everyone¡¯s waiting to get into one of the limos lined up outside, so we can be ferried over to the harbor.


    The dance is taking ce on an old-fashioned steam boat called the L. B. Burberry, after the school¡¯s original founder, Lucas Benjamin Burberry.


    ¡°You guys know the story behind the steamboat, right?¡± I ask as the crowd parts for us. Tristan leads the way and people just move aside instinctually, leaving a clear path from the elevator to the steps. The next limo in line is quickly vacated by the students that were climbing in, and left for us.


    Half of me is thrilled by the attention, and the other half is ¡­ disturbed.


    What a life these guys lead.


    ¡°Some guy built it for his mistress, right?¡± Zayd asks, scooting into the limo and then folding his hands together behind his neck like he owns the ce. Knowing him, he probably owns a limo that¡¯s even nicer than this.

 54

    ¡°Not his mistress,¡± I choke out as Creed takes a seat and then pulls me onto hisp, just like he did in the car that day. My whole body goes white- hot and then dulls to an agonizing simmer. I do my very best not to shift around on top of him. If I feel him harden up beneath me right now, I might die. ¡°For his wife. He had the boat designed just so he could take her to dinner on the top deck. She¡¯d always wanted to go to New Orleans and do a


    steamboat cruise on the Mississippi, but she got sick and couldn¡¯t travel.¡± My heart clenches, and I know my inner history buff is showing, but I can¡¯t help myself.


    ¡°That¡¯s so romantic,¡± Miranda says, squeezing Andrew¡¯s arm. He gives her a look, and the two of them pause to stare at each other before scooting apart. Creed is watching, and his eyes narrow.


    ¡°Are they fucking?¡± he whispers, and his breath tickles my ear, making me squirm. He grunts, and then we end up staring at each other. Toote. I can feel his body responding to me, his arms curling tighter around my waist. My heart is beating so loud right now that it¡¯s giving me a headache.


    ¡°I don¡¯t ¡­ I don¡¯t know ¡­¡± I whisper back as he leans in further, hand traveling up my side.


    Another person slides into the limo, and we all turn to see Harper, followed by Becky, Abigail, and Valentina. Fantastic. Their datese next, and I recognize the scowling face of Gregory followed by John. Thest Idol, Gena Whitley, is nowhere to be seen. I¡¯ve noticed she has her own circle of friends she gravitates to sometimes.


    ¡°What are you doing in here, Harper?¡± Tristan snaps, and he sounds like he wants to kick her butt right out onto the pavement. The door closes, someone taps the roof, and off we go. Harper is smiling, but the expression reminds me of a shark.


    ¡°I¡¯m your date to the dance, what else, silly?¡± she says, her pink dress riding up her thighs as she scoots to Tristan andtches onto his arm. He shakes her off with a dark scowl, but it doesn¡¯t seem to faze her. She¡¯s made of strong stuff, that one. His expression would scare the shit out of me. He looks like a man who¡¯s just run into an obstacle that¡¯s blocking something he really, really wants.


    ¡°You asked me, and I told you no,¡± Tristan says as my eyes flick between the two of them. Whoa. During our game at the casino, he inferred he was going to use his favor with Creed to keep him away from Harper. And now


    ¡­


    ¡°Tristan,¡± Harper snaps back, sitting up straight. Her eyes cut right through him, and I see then that all the lip biting and hair flipping and giggling is an act. There¡¯s a rod of steel making up her backbone. ¡°Don¡¯t you think your future is more-¡±


    He turns and puts a finger against her lips, leaning in with a growl.


    ¡°If you keep talking, I¡¯ll toss you right out of this limo, and we¡¯ll find out if the Plebs enjoy their queen better ¡­ or their king. Don¡¯t test me, Harper.¡± She rears back like he¡¯s pped her, eyes shing with hurt.


    ¡°You always get like this when Lizzie-¡±


    The look on Tristan¡¯s face right then is venomous.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare mention her name.¡± His words are an order, snapped off a whip-like tongue. ¡°Mention Lizzie again, I swear, and Harper du Pont you¡¯ll be sorry.¡±


    The limo rolls to a stop, and Harper practically throws herself out, tears brimming in her eyes. Becky follows, Abigail, Valentina, and the boys behind her.


    Zayd whistles.


    ¡°That was mad harsh,¡± Zayd breathes, but then he¡¯s grinning like it¡¯s all fun and games. Torturing people doesn¡¯t bother the Idol boys. ¡°She¡¯s in love with you, you know.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in love with myst name, and the Vanderbilt reputation.¡± Tristan steps out of the limo and takes off down the dock. Zayd helps me off of Creed¡¯sp, and onto the pavement outside. It¡¯s actually somewhat painful for me to wear these shoes outside. They cost two thousand dors. For one pair of shoes. It¡¯s just ¡­ I can hardly even imagine spending that kind of money on footwear.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got an awful boner,¡± Creed drawls, and Miranda wrinkles her nose up.


    ¡°You¡¯re gross. Nobody wants to know that,¡± she says, steering clear of her twin and guiding Andrew up the gangnk and onto the ship. Zayd grins and turns around, walking backwards as Creed takes my arm again.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± I start, and then I can¡¯t help butugh. Creed narrows his eyes, but the slightest hint of a smile rests on his lips. He doesn¡¯t give two craps that everyone can see the proof of his arousal in his cks. In fact, he seems to enjoy the attention.


    The tension that brewed between us in the limo is still there, dampened only slightly by the drama between Harper and Tristan. When Creed guides me inside and over to our assigned table at the rear of the ship, he puts his hand on the small of my back, and my bones turn to jelly. He pulls my chair out for me, pushes me in, and thenys his hands on my shoulders, leaning down to put his mouth to my ear.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He presses a kiss to the side of my jaw, and my eyes go wide.


    ¡°So ¡­ are you really into him then?¡± Miranda asks, staring at me from across the table like she¡¯s never seen me before. ¡°He ¡­ read your essay aloud.¡± My cheeks flush. I hadn¡¯t forgotten that, but I also can¡¯t deny that when he¡¯s not being a total andplete prick, I enjoy Creed Cabot¡¯spany. Like I said, it¡¯s easier for me to trust than to believe deceit. And I want to believe I can be friends with these guys.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I whisper, putting my napkin on myp as Zayd, and then Tristan, joins our table. The table next to us has the Idol girls, including Gena and her date, as well as Ebony Peterson and Jalen Donner. The rest of the Bluebloods are split between the two tables at the base of the dais on which we¡¯re sitting. I think the design was meant to house a wedding party or something. The stage is positioned diagonally across from us, dimly lit and waiting for the band.

 55

    ording to the program that¡¯s on the back side of my menu, the music doesn¡¯t start until after we eat. As of right now, there¡¯s the faintest whisper of ssical musicing from the speakers.


    Creed rejoins us just before dinner service starts, and Zayd gives him a knowing smirk.


    ¡°What the hell were you doing in there? Taking a shit?¡±


    ¡°Oh stop,¡± Miranda groans as Creed smirks, and scoots his chair closer to me, putting his arm around my shoulders.


    ¡°I was taking care of a little problem,¡± he says, his blond hair obscuring his eyes. He leans in close and turns so that his lips are against my cheek. ¡°And I thought of you while I did it.¡±


    ¡°Did you just infer you jerked off in the bathroom?¡± I choke, and Creed leans back in his seat, allzy and happy as a sated cat. He doesn¡¯t answer, but Zayd¡¯s howlingughter and Miranda¡¯s red face tell me all I need to know. I catch her leaning in to whisper to Andrew a few times and decide that if they are dating, they haven¡¯t been very discreet about it. They¡¯re always together, and they do weird things, but ¡­ maybe I didn¡¯t see it before is because there¡¯s no spark? Zero. They look like friends, and that¡¯s it.


    The spark I¡¯m feeling with Creed is a hundred times theirs, and I don¡¯t even like the guy.


    ¡°It¡¯s them, isn¡¯t it?¡± Creed whispers, just before warm bread and butter is served, drink orders taken. I don¡¯t respond, but I really don¡¯t think so. At


    some point, I¡¯m just going to have to ask.


    Dinner is extravagant, as usual, but everything is good, even foods I¡¯ve never tried before.


    The eyes of every person in that room are on us, observing what the Idols eat, how they sit, what they¡¯reughing about. I¡¯m now sitting at the table I spotted that first day of school, the one brimming with energy and charisma. A smile curves my lips, and a warmth bubbles in my chest.N?velDrama.Org content.


    I feel like ¡­ I belong.


    After dessert is served-a fantastic chocte torte with fresh fruit and edible silver beads-Creed stands up and offers me his hand, making us the first couple on the dance floor in the middle of all the tables. There are silver streamers made of stars above our heads, vases stuffed with fresh flowers, and little white Christmas trees decorated with twinkling lights.


    The band that takes up the stage is young, hot, and clearly very recognizable. Every student in that room goes nuts when they start ying, and I feel like the gap in my pop culture knowledge is showing. Creed doesn¡¯t seem bothered, helping me through the bouncier songs and holding me during the slow ones. He¡¯s got this permanent half-smile on his face that I think might actually be real.


    Dancing with him is not like dancing with Zayd. Zayd Kaiser is a force in and of himself, pulling me into orbit, making my body move with his. Creed is a patient teacher, showing me where to go but expecting I¡¯ll get there on my own. I like both approaches. I wonder how Tristan would danFe? The thought pops into my head, and my eyes flick back to the table to find him watching me.


    He doesn¡¯t seem interested in dancing tonight. But his gaze is dark, inquisitive. It gives me the chills-in a good way.


    I focus back on Creed, his blue eyes staring into mine, his hands drifting lower. He cups my ass briefly before readjusting his hands. My mouth drops open, and his smile gets a bit wider, his eyes still half-lidded. Bedroom eyes, that¡¯s what he has. I hadn¡¯t figured out how to describe them before, but that¡¯s the expression he¡¯s always got on, like he¡¯s about to have sex.


    ¡°You should tutor me,¡± he says after a while. ¡°You¡¯d make a sexy teacher, and I could use the boost to my grades.¡± My brows go up, but that¡¯s not a bad idea. Burberry Prep has an official tutoring program I could enroll in, and get credit for. And then I¡¯d get to spend some one-on-one time with Creed ¡­


    When the band takes a break, Creed leads me up to the top deck. Even though it¡¯s freezing outside, we huddle up on one of the benches and look out across the water at the glittering lights of the academy campus. Creed takes off his white jacket and covers my shoulders with it, pulling me into hisp again. It¡¯s ice-cold out here, and my thighs were sticking to the bench, so I¡¯m more than happy with the arrangement.


    My right arm is around is neck, fingers teasing the fine blond hairs there.


    We don¡¯t talk, just watch the horizon as the boat makes it way along the shore and then turns around to head back toward the harbor. Between the food and the dancing and ¡­ whatever this is that¡¯s happening between me and Creed, I find that my eyelids are starting to droop. I end up resting my head on his shoulder, nestled in the crook of his neck.


    ¡°Thank you for the shoes,¡± I whisper, and then Creed¡¯s turning and lifting my chin with his fingers.


    Slowly, almost slowly enough that it feels like we¡¯re not moving at all, Creed and I lean in. His fingers slide to the back of my neck, and our mouths meet. There¡¯s no tongue at first, just lips, but then Creed pulls me closer, adjusting my body so that I¡¯m straddling him.


    I¡¯ve never done anything like this before, and my body throbs like crazy. It feels so damn good, I want to keep going. My hands curl together behind Creed¡¯s neck and we kiss until I feel him stir beneath me again.


    No. Shit, no.


    I¡¯ve known this guy for four months, and he¡¯s treated me like crap for most of them.


    ¡°I ¡­ have to go,¡± I whisper, tearing away from him and racing down the length of the boat to the bathroom.


    Before I can slip in the door, Tristan is stepping in front of me and blocking my way.


    ¡°What-¡± I start, and then he grabs me by the hips, pulling me forward and crushing me against his body. Creed¡¯s jacket slides off my shoulders and flutters to the ground as Tristan digs his fingers into my hair and ims my mouth with his own.


    My entire body copses in his arms.


    My own fingers dig into the front of his sharp ck tux, wing for more. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve been shot with Cupid¡¯s arrow, slowly drowning in need and want. Wake up, Marnye! I shout at myself, but I can barely move, barely


    breathe. The only thing that matters in that moment is that Tristan¡¯s tongue is sweeping against my own, his hands squeezing my hips.


    He takes me to the edge of what I can handle, and then steps back abruptly, releasing me.


    His gray eyes glimmer with lust, and even though he¡¯s now scowling at me, it¡¯s quite clear that he¡¯s interested.


    ¡°What ¡­ was that for?¡± I pant, bending down to pick up Creed¡¯s jacket. My heart is pounding. I¡¯m going to have to tell him about this kiss. I have to. ¡°Just remember that Creed isn¡¯t the only one that¡¯s interested.¡± Tristan turns and stalks down the length of the boat. My lips are swollen, my heart pounding, and I know I¡¯m going to need a moment before I can face any of


    the guys again.


    I slip into the bathroom and push in the door to the first stall without checking to see if it¡¯s upied.


    It is. And it¡¯s not locked.


    It swings open and reveals Miranda, sitting on the toilet with her lipstick smeared and tears running down her face. She snaps her gaze up to me, eyes wide, and then shoves the door closed again.


    When shees out a few minutester, we don¡¯t mention it.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to grab another torte,¡± she says finally, disappearing and taking the awkwardness with her.


    After going to the bathroom and washing my hands in the coldest water I can manage, I head back to Creed, and I blurt it out.


    ¡°Tristan kissed me,¡± I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush as he turns his half-lidded eyes on me. ¡°And I think ¡­ I kissed him back.¡±


    ¡°Do you like him?¡± Creed asks, lounging on the bench, the only noticeable sign of his difort the way his hand curls into the white fabric of his cks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I whisper, sitting down beside him. I¡¯m so confused.


    Thank god winter break starts tomorrow.


    I¡¯m not sure how much of this I can handle without a breather.

 56

    Dad¡¯s waiting for me in the visitor parking lot, standing next to his rusted- out Ford with his hands in his jeans pockets. He smiles at me, but I¡¯m having a hard time smiling back. Climbing out of the air-conditioned leather pce of the academy car, my pleated skirt billowing gently in the wind, I feel like I¡¯m straddling two realities.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I whisper as his eyes take in my hair. I hadn¡¯t thought to mention it. I was too pissed about Parents¡¯ Week, and honestly, it didn¡¯t seem like he had the emotional capacity to handle any of my crap. He¡¯s struggling enough on his own. The driver gets out and shuts the car door behind me before taking off.


    Then it¡¯s just me and Dad, standing alone in an empty parking lot.


    ¡°Your hair looks nice,¡± he says, and at least I think he actually means it. He¡¯s dressed in a id button-down and new jeans, and it seems like he¡¯s actually trying. Charlie seems sober, too, which is a relief. Last night was fun, if a little confusing, and I¡¯m a bit too tired to drive us both the whole way home. ¡°When did you decide to cut it?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ my friend Miranda cut it for me,¡± I decide to say instead. ¡°Remember the girl you met? Kathleen Cabot¡¯s daughter?¡± Dad nods as he opens my door for me and takes my bag. He chucks it into the bed of the truck, next to his toolboxes, and gets in the driver¡¯s side. The urge to add but maybe you were too drunk to remember flickers in my mind, but I keep my mouth shut.


    We drive in silence for a little while, and I try not to get my feelings hurt that he¡¯s not asking me any questions. We barely talk when I¡¯m at school, and now that I¡¯m going home, I thought he¡¯d want to know everything. We¡¯ve always had a good rtionship.


    ¡°Your mother wants to see you for Christmas,¡± he blurts, and that¡¯s when it all starts to make sense. Great. He¡¯s never fallen out of love with that woman, even after all the crap she¡¯s put us through. Sometimes, I just wish she¡¯d go away and leave uspletely alone. Popping in and out of our lives only makes things harder.


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, my heart pounding. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from Zack, replying to a pic of me in my dressst night. You¡¯re a fuFking vision. I run my tongue along my lower lip, my heart pounding as he continues to type. On my way home. You?


    ¡°She¡¯s your mother, Marnye,¡± Dad says, but he doesn¡¯t sound anymore excited about this than I am. ¡°She wants to have a rtionship with you.¡± I tap out a response to Zack. Yep. For the whole two weeks.


    ¡°Maybe she should¡¯ve thought about that before she left me at a rest stop and drove off?¡± I ask, lifting my face up to study Dad¡¯s. He¡¯s staring at the road with unwarranted intensity. His brown hair is tousled and flecked with hints of gray. The man¡¯s only forty years old, and he¡¯s already got gray. That worries me.


    ¡°People make mistakes, Marnye,¡± he says, and I roll my eyes, slumping against the door of the truck.


    ¡°You¡¯re always making excuses for her, even now. She left me at a rest stop because her boyfriend was bothered by my crying. I was three, Dad. I could¡¯ve been kidnapped or ¡­¡± There¡¯s no point putting to words all the horrible things that might¡¯ve happened. He knows. He drove over to her fancy new house in Grenadine Heights, and punched her new boyfriend- now husband-in the face. Dad ended up in jail for two weeks, and I stayed with Mrs. Fleming.


    Hang out with me sometime? Zack sends, and then a minuteter. Please.


    We haven¡¯t gotten to the house yet, and I¡¯m desperate to esFape already.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s been tough, Marnye, but wouldn¡¯t you rather have your mother in your life some than not at all?¡± I¡¯m not entirely sure how to respond to that, so I don¡¯t say anything at all. Instead, I just lean back in the torn old seat and text Zack again.


    Same. When Fan you meet?


    There¡¯s a brief pause and then I can see him typing.


    Tonight.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    I smile tightly, turn my phone screen off, and lie back, closing my eyes against the curving country road.


    At least now I have something to look forward to ¡­ although I¡¯m already wondering if trusting Zack again is a mistake.


    The Train Car is, quite literally, a pair of passenger cars from an old steam train that have been converted into a trailer of sorts. Each is shorter and narrower than some of the other trailers in the park, but at least they¡¯ve got some character. When I was little, I loved living here.


    Standing on the sagging front porch, I¡¯m not so sure how I feel.


    ¡°What? A few months at that prep school and you¡¯ve got champagne tastes?¡± Dad asks, smiling at me as he unlocks the door and lets us in. I¡¯m nervous at first, but as I step inside, I see that it¡¯s clean, and there aren¡¯t any alcohol bottles anywhere.


    ¡°Definitely not.¡± I carry my bags into my room, tossing the ratty old duffel onto my floral bedspread. It¡¯s a nice one, too, a present from Dad for my middle school graduation. He thought I could take it with me to Burberry Prep, but the packing list expressly asked students not to bring linens from home.


    My room is in the second train car, right next to Dad¡¯s, with nothing but a narrow hallway between them. The two train cars are connected by a makeshift hall of their own, metal welded together to keep out the elements, insted, and covered in dry wall. It¡¯s pretty cool, actually.


    As I sit there, I get this surreal sense of belonging but not belonging, like maybe Dad¡¯s right. Maybe my time at the academy has changed me a little. The person who lived herest summer isn¡¯t quite the same person who¡¯s sitting on this bed now. Putting both hands over my face, I lie back and just sit for a minute, taking it all in.


    ¡°What do you want for dinner tonight?¡± Dad asks as I drop my hands and prop up on my elbows to look at him. His brown eyes are crinkled with


    kindness at the edges, and his smile is clear and genuine. ¡°We could barbeque? Or just order in pizza or Chinese?¡±

 57

    ¡°Simple, normal food, that¡¯s my only request.¡± I grin as I sit the rest of the way up. ¡°At Burberry Prep, the food¡¯s good-amazing, actually-but sometimes I can¡¯t even pronounce it.¡± Dadughs and whips out his cell.


    ¡°Pizza it is then.¡± He moves into the living room to make the call, and I check my phone again.


    I¡¯ve got messages from Lizzie, Miranda, Zack ¡­ and Creed.


    Miranda misses you so muFh, she won¡¯t stop talking about you. It¡¯s annoying as hell. I smile and try to figure out how I¡¯m supposed to respond back. Part of me wants to ask about January, if he¡¯s really going to go back to treating me like garbage. Same with Tristan and Zayd. They¡¯ve been sort of ¡­ nice? And those kisses ¡­ I¡¯d just assumed that for their portion of the agreement, they¡¯d simply leave me alone. Not the case. If anything, I¡¯ve been getting more attention from the three of them.


    Tell her I¡¯m having pizza with Dad and thinking about her, is my response. An instantter, Are you thinking about me, too?


    My heart hammers in my chest, but I¡¯m not ready to respond to that message, so I turn my screen off again, change out of my uniform, and join Dad in the living room for pizza. He workedte the day before, and then basically left right after toe pick me up, so he¡¯s asleep before our movie even ends. I cover him with a nket, turn the volume on the TV to a whisper, and then grab a jacket.


    Zack¡¯s waiting outside when I step onto the porch.


    He¡¯s got on a ck jacket, dark blue jeans, and a beanie. It¡¯s surprisingly cold out here, even for December, and when we exhale, little clouds puff into the darkness.


    There¡¯s his orange McLaren sitting next to Dad¡¯s truck, and worth as much as this entire trailer park. It¡¯s a nicer car than I remember Zack¡¯s family having before. He nces over his shoulder in the direction of my gaze and shrugs his shoulders.


    ¡°Grandpa unblocked both my and Dad¡¯s trust funds,¡± he says, and then shrugs again. ¡°I guess he wrote us back into the will, too, but there are all these stupid fucking stiptions. I¡¯m trying to enjoy the money while I have it.¡±


    ¡°Your grandpa cut you guys off?¡± I ask. I hadn¡¯t known that. Would probably exin why I hadn¡¯t realized he was quite so wealthy before. I


    mean, he¡¯s part of the Infinity Club, so he has to be a lot more loaded than I originally thought. All of a sudden, I feel tired.


    ¡°Yep.¡± Zack moves over to the driver¡¯s side door and opens it. His dark eyes lift to mine. ¡°Get in,¡± he says, and after a split-second¡¯s hesitation, I do.


    We drive to some weird little twenty-four hour diner on the coast. It smells like seafood in there, and all the tables are covered in sticky stic, but when our orderse out, I swear it¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve eaten in years.


    ¡°This m chowder is ¡­¡± There aren¡¯t even any words. Zack just stares at me with those dark, unreadable eyes of his, and I have to wonder how he even managed to stumble on a dive like this in the first ce. Imagining any of the Idols sitting in here is damn near impossible. Even Miranda would be hesitant to walk in.


    ¡°My dad owns half the fishing vessels on this dock.¡± He points out the window behind me, and I turn. ¡°He¡¯d own them all if the town didn¡¯t hate him so much.¡± Zack leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He¡¯s finished his fish and chips, and I¡¯ve barely eaten half my bowl of chowder.


    Even though Trini Bay is close to Cruz Bay, it¡¯s always functioned on its own set of rules, more like a small town than the pseudo-suburb of a city. There are Buy LoFal signs all over the diner. That exins why they don¡¯t want anything to do with the Brooks family.


    ¡°How¡¯s life at Coventry Prep?¡± I ask, when I can¡¯t decide how to respond to his statement. He shrugs, his arm muscles bunching with the movement. My eyes lock on and can¡¯t seem to pull away. He was by no means skinny in eighth grade, but ¡­ he definitely went through a maturity boost over the summer.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Just that. His dark eyes bore into mine, and I feel my cheeks heating. Zack and I are a world apart, and we have so much history, but I like hanging out with him. ¡°OnFe she finds out what you did, that girl you killed


    ¡­¡± Tristan¡¯s words ring in my head, but I push them away. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about, and I don¡¯t care to. I¡¯m sure whatever aFtually


    happened isn¡¯t as grisly as he¡¯s making it out to be. Clearly, Zack didn¡¯t kill anyone or he¡¯d be sitting in jail.


    Right?


    My phone lights up, and I nce over, seeing another text from Creed.


    Is that a no? he asks, and I nce at his previous message: Are you thinking about me, too?


    I tuck my lower lip under my teeth and tap out a message. Maybe. Why?


    My heart thunders and I tuck the phone into my coat pocket, too nervous to read whatever he responds with. After break, things might go back to being bad at school. He might start bullying me again. Nothing¡¯s changed, right? Not even a glorious dance under silver sparkle streamers and crystal chandeliers can fix the injustices in the world.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Is that one of the Idol guys?¡± Zack asks finally, and I look up from my food. He¡¯s just staring at me, that darkness making his face unreadable.


    ¡°Yeah, why?¡± There¡¯s an imperceptible tightening around Zack¡¯s mouth. ¡°Because they¡¯re pieces of shit, all three of them. And this ising from


    someone who knows he¡¯s an asshole.¡± We stare at each other, and my cheeks heat.


    ¡°They warned me away from you, too, you know,¡± I start, cutting a potato into pieces with my spoon. ¡°ording to them, you¡¯re even worse.¡± Zack doesn¡¯t say anything, and we sit in silence for a while. ¡°If it makes you feel better, they¡¯ve been so cruel to me, I don¡¯t think we could ever be friends.¡±


    Not friends, but ¡­ didn¡¯t Zayd¡¯s kiss burn on the danFe floor? What about Creed¡¯s hands on your waistst night? And Tristan ¡­ I try hard not to think about Tristan.


    Exhaling, I banish the thoughts and try asking about football instead. That does the trick. Zack tells me about his team, their brutal practice sessions, how much he likes his coach. It¡¯s the longest and most continual conversation we¡¯ve ever had.


    After we¡¯re done eating, he takes me for a walk down the pier, and along the small stretch of beach next to the restaurant, pausing to pick up an intact sand dor. He grabs my hand in one of his huge ones, uncurls my fingers, and then ces it on my palm. When he curls my hand back over it, my heart races and I feel so lightheaded that I have to sit down in the sand for a moment. He sits beside me, and we watch the moonlight or sunlight reflect off the gentle waves.


    ¡°For all the things I did to you in middle school,¡± he says, exhaling, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    There¡¯s a long stretch of silence because I don¡¯t know what to say. Even after we started dating, he never apologized, and we never talked about it.


    Zack doesn¡¯t move, just sits there, staring at the water. I look from him to the ocean and back again.


    When he reaches over, puts an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him, I don¡¯t resist.


    The rest of the week is spent decorating for Christmas. Dad¡¯s helpless without me around, so I¡¯ve got my work cut out for me, pulling cardboard boxes full of lights and ornaments from the luggagepartment on the bottom of the first train car.


    We hang white lights outside, red and green ones inside, and drag a Christmas tree home from the lot up the street. Neither of us is religious, but we¡¯ve got a ceramic nativity scene that Mom left when she moved out, and that goes in its usual spot on a shelf in the living room. Compared to the pictures Miranda keeps sending me from Paris, it¡¯s not much, but it feels homey, familiar, and safe. That¡¯s all I really need right now.


    Since Dad has to work everyday of my vacation save the weekends and Christmas Day itself, I have a lot of free time on my hands to lie back on my bed and text. I¡¯ve got an interesting back and forth going on with Creed, and, surprisingly, messages from Zayd and Tristan as well.


    Zayd¡¯s a great texter. Honestly, we¡¯re having conversations now that make me feel like we¡¯re friends. Almost. But then I close my eyes and I remember him telling me he¡¯d pay my price, and my stomach twists into knots. Tristan, on the other hand, is as dark and intimidating over text as he is in person. Our conversation centers mainly on the project we¡¯re doing for chemistry and not much else. At least his zeal for schoolwork matches my own, so there¡¯s that.


    I¡¯vepletely forgotten about my mothering over until I open the door on Christmas Day and find her standing on the porch in an expensive


    white fur coat, diamond earrings, and strained smile. Every single cell in me vibrates with emotion, and I can¡¯t seem to stop thinking about the lingerie she got me for my birthday. Snag yourself a riFh one, Marnye, you¡¯ll be d you did. Look how that turned out for me! My throat goes dry, and my stomach turns to ice.

 58

    ¡°Marnye-bear,¡± she says, holding her arms out for a hug. She hasn¡¯t called me Marnye-bear since that one time when I was five and she called me drunk and bawling her eyes out. I don¡¯t move into her embrace, instead stepping back so she cane inside. She frowns at me, but she steps into the living room anyway, giving the scattered bits of wrapping paper a dirty look. The way she dresses now, you¡¯d never know she lived here with her husband and daughter once upon a time. ¡°Charlie.¡± Mom-although I¡¯d rather just call her Jennifer-nods her chin in my dad¡¯s direction. It¡¯s painful, the way he looks at her, like he¡¯s still desperately in love.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Jenn,¡± he replies softly, and then he looks away, like he can¡¯t bear the sight of her.


    ¡°So, how¡¯s that academy treating you?¡± she asks, her blue eyes and blond hair nothing at all like my brown eyes and brte waves. Well ¡­ I guess I don¡¯t have brte waves anymore, and I reach up to touch the short rose gold locks with a tentative gesture. Jennifer notices and smiles. ¡°Love the hair, by the way, very chic.¡± She winks at me, like we¡¯re old girlfriends or something. In reality, I barely know the woman.


    ¡°I¡¯m top of my ss,¡± I say with a shrug. My stomach and chest have gotten so cold that I feel numb now. Looking at Jennifer, I¡¯m not really sure what I¡¯m supposed to think. Some little part of me, buried deep down and covered over, wants to fall into her arms and let her hold me like she did before she left. The rest of me knows that¡¯d be a disaster waiting to happen. ¡°And I got first chair for harp in the orchestra.¡±


    Jennifer smiles, and I think it really is a genuine expression. Only ¡­ she¡¯s happy for all the wrong reasons. She isn¡¯t proud of me; I¡¯m just an extension of her, my aplishments bing her own.


    ¡°See, I knew I had good genes,¡± she says, reaching out to touch my hair. I step back and she frowns, but that ice is melting inside of me, giving way to anger.


    ¡°Genes? This has nothing to do with DNA. It has everything to do with Dad working a second job to pay the four hundred dor a month rental fee for a harp, so I could y at home.¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Dad starts, rising from his spot on the couch. I haven¡¯t told him about the fifty-five thousand dors in my new ount yet, but I did use some of it to buy a few Christmas gifts when I was out with Creed and Miranda. He¡¯s got a new watch on his wrist that costs more than I¡¯ve ever spent on a single item in my entire life. I¡¯m not sure that he realizes how valuable it is. Pretty sure Dad thinks it¡¯s a knock-off. ¡°Your mother¡¯s here to take you with her for Christmas dinner.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to Avondale,¡± she says, beaming, so supremely proud of herself for booking a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in the city. ¡°You¡¯ll love it there.¡±


    ¡°Is my sister going?¡± I ask, and some more of that ice melts, giving away to rage. I haven¡¯t even met my sister yet. As far as I know, she isn¡¯t aware I even exist, and we¡¯re barely three years apart. Mom was already pregnant with her when she abandoned me at that rest stop.


    Jennifer¡¯s mouth turns down into a frown and she nces over at my dad. ¡°Why are you looking at him when you¡¯re the only one that can answer


    my question?¡± I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter, trying not to think about how Mom was missing when I ¡­ those two times that I ¡­ My throat dries out and I almost choke on a lump when I try to swallow.


    ¡°Go get dressed in something nice,¡± Jennifer says instead, not bothering to actually answer any of my questions. ¡°If you don¡¯t have anything, you can wear your uniform-¡± She¡¯s not done talking, but I¡¯m already pushing away from the counter and heading down the hall to my bedroom. Once inside, I m the door, lock it, and pull my phone from the pocket of my pj pants.


    Are you busy today? I text Zack, surprised when he starts typing right away.


    FuFk no. This is boring as hell. You want to get out of here? Yes, please. PiFk me up at the road?


    I don¡¯t wait for him to respond, dressing in jeans, a t-shirt, the Bear Paws that Dad gave me as a present this morning, and my warm red wool academy coat. There¡¯s a door behind my bed from the car¡¯s original life as a train. It would¡¯ve connected the passenger car I¡¯m in to another passenger or dining car. If I stand on my bed and unbolt the top lock, I can push it open and climb out.


    Closing it softly behind me, I hop down to the muddy gravel drive and take off for the road.


    Since I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯ll take Zack to get here, I hide behind a tree, wondering if Jenn and Charlie wille looking for me. After a while, I hear them calling to me, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I turn it to silent, and then crouch low until Zack¡¯s McLaren pulls up on the side of the road.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± he asks as I climb in, huddling into the seat. Seat warmers are so underrated. I nce over and find his dark eyes on mine. When we look at each other, I know he knows what he¡¯s done to me. He can never forget; I can never forget. How can we really be friends? Look how our dating life went.


    ¡°Anywhere but here,¡± I say, and I mean it. For the rest of the day, we just drive.


    And it¡¯s the best day I¡¯ve had i


    n a long, long time.

 59

    Arriving back at Burberry Prep after the break is bittersweet. I¡¯m excited to see Miranda again, but I¡¯m nervous to see what happens with the bullying ban lifted. First thing I notice when I head inside is that my locker is covered in condoms with a note taped in the center. These are for you, Working Girl. XOXO.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    Fantastic.


    I tear the note off with a sigh. Dad was not happy with me for taking off, and Mom was long-gone by the time I came back. I apologized to him, let him ground me for the rest of my vacation, and devoted myself to studying when he was at work. Whatever¡¯s going on between me and Zack, I can¡¯t figure it out right now.


    ¡°Wee back,¡± Tristan says, sweeping past me and heading down the hall with an entourage in tow. He doesn¡¯t look at me, but his fingers just barely brush the back of my hand, leaving this tingling sensation thatsts for hours.


    Once Miranda¡¯s done bouncing around in excitement over seeing me again, she starts telling me all about her vacation, how Creed was much lessbative than usual, how her mom bought her a pair of Louboutins at the gship Paris store, and how their apartment overlooks the Eiffel Tower. Miranda Cabot is a wonderful person, but her life is so different from mine that I don¡¯t even know where to begin.


    Andrew joins us for lunch, and although the snidements and sneers in the halls are back, there aren¡¯t any life shattering moments like the breathalyzer or the essay. In fact, all three Idol guys are still being rtively normal towards me.


    Since our first day back is also a Friday, the third of January, we get our phones back right after ss, and I find a text from Tristan inviting me to work on our chemistry project. We end up spending most of the weekend walking the campus and taking soil samples to test in theb, looking for various contaminants. We also take samples of paint, the instion that¡¯s visible in the half-finished walls of the school basement, and even a piece of roof tile.


    Just over a weekter, we¡¯ve finished our experiments and make ns to meet up in the library to finish thest bit of research, using the school¡¯s old archive files and newspaper slides to get information about the campus that¡¯s most definitely not avable online.


    Of course, I have to get through PE first.


    It is one hundred percent, without a doubt, my least favorite ss now that the bullying ban is lifted.


    We dress down into our school-issued swimsuits, and the teasing starts. The Bluebloods-Harper and Becky in particr-are relentless, doing their best to make up for my brief reprieve from their cruelty. Theye to ss with red Sharpie lines drawn on their wrists, and whisper about how fat I look in my suit. When that doesn¡¯t faze me, one of them pushes me into the deep end with the coach isn¡¯t looking, and I end up with a huge amount of water in my nose and lungs, choking on the burning sensation as I surface and drag myself back onto the cement.


    Their petty bullshit doesn¡¯t get to me. Instead, I brush it off and focus on the fact that Tristan and I are going to snag the highest grade in chemistry. There¡¯s no doubt in my mind about that. I take no small amount of pleasure when Harper startsining that Tristan won¡¯t hang out with her after school because he¡¯s ¡®too busy banging the Working Girl¡¯.


    After showering in the-thankfully-private stalls, I wrap a towel around myself and open my locker, grabbing my shirt, skirt, tie, socks, shoes ¡­ and where are my damn underwear? I dig through my stuff, but don¡¯t see the pale blue cotton panties I was wearing earlier. With a frown, I steal back into the private shower stall to change. There is no way in hell I¡¯m getting naked


    in front of these girls. Knowing my luck, they¡¯d probably sneak a phone in here and snap photos of me to share around the school.


    Once I¡¯m dressed, I head back into the locker room and start the search for my panties all over again.


    After clearing my locker outpletely, it dawns on me.


    ¡°Goddamn it,¡± I grumble, rising to my feet and mming my locker door closed. I throw my bookbag over my shoulder and make a beeline for my dorm, fully aware that this is yet another Idol prank. Knowing them, they¡¯re probably waiting around a corner somewhere to flip my skirt up and snap a pic. Using extreme caution, I go the back way-out the door where I first saw Tristan¡¯s Ferrari Spider and then all the way around the outside and in the other door nearest the chapel-before I hit my apartment door.


    Free and clear.


    After I slip inside, I set my bag down and start looking for a pair of clean panties so I can make my library meeting with Tristan.


    The drawer on the bottom of my wardrobe is empty. All my bras are there, but my undies are gone.


    With a snarl, I dump out my dirty clothes basket and search there. Still, nothing.


    How these girls keep getting into my dorm is beyond me. I¡¯m going to have to ask for a lock change which means I¡¯ll have to make a report. Nothing wille of it, I¡¯m sure, as there¡¯s no proof pointing to anyone in particr, but at least it¡¯ll be on file.


    Fine.


    I go for a pair of pj shorts to put under my skirt, but those are gone, too. As are my jeans. As is every single piece of clothing that¡¯s not a shirt, skirt, or dress.


    Those bitches.


    Sitting down on the edge of my bed with a sigh, I text Miranda, asking if I can borrow some shorts or leggings, but she¡¯s at volleyball practice and won¡¯t be able to get back to me for a while. While I¡¯m at it, I use the online form to ask for an off-campus pass for tomorrow evening, and then grab my bag and head for the library.


    Panties or no panties, I still have to get this project done. I¡¯ll just be really, really careful.


    As usual, the library is deserted, most of the students choosing to retire to their dorms or heading outside to one of the courtyards to study. That¡¯s one


    of the reasons I like it here; I can get a little time to myself. The Idols and their Inner Circle most definitely don¡¯t hang out here unless it¡¯s for a s


    pecific and necessary purpose.

 60

    The other reason I like it here ¡­ the books. Five stories of invaluable knowledge, row after row of old tomes, and rooms filled with historical archives. The architecture is to die for: Gothic revival with soaring arches and intricately carved columns. The whole ce smells of ink and paper, and I feel this sense of rxatione over me as I wind my way toward the back corner where Tristan¡¯s waiting.


    He¡¯s standing two shelves over from the entrance to the archive room, a table nearby littered with file folders and boxes of slides. Burberry Prep has had a student-run paper since 1970, but while the journalism club is in the process of scanning old articles into a digital archive, they¡¯ve still got a long way to go. The time period Tristan and I are most interested in isn¡¯t even close to being uploaded.


    His eyes snap over to me when I walk down the aisle, the silver of his irises glimmering with some unknown emotion. I can¡¯t seem to figure this guy out when he¡¯s not being a dick. He holds his face so still, with this practiced haughtiness covering up any real emotion that I have no idea how to get a read on him. I fully expected him to go back to treating me like shit, but instead he seems to be doing the opposite.


    Tristan smiles at me, and while it¡¯s just as cocksure and arrogant as the day I met him, there¡¯s a smoldering undertone to it, like he¡¯d enjoy searing my mouth with those full lips of his again.


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯mte,¡± I say, trying my very best not to think about the fact that I¡¯ve got no panties under my skirt. It urs to me then that I should¡¯ve unrolled the waistband and dropped the hem a few, careful inches. My cheeks me and Tristan raises a dark, questioning brow. ¡°There was some


    ¡­ shit happened in gym.¡±Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    His mouth turns down into a frown.


    ¡°Harper?¡± he asks, and I shrug my shoulders. ¡°If it happened in the girls¡¯ locker room, then it was Harper. Not a single girl makes a move on this campus without her approval.¡± He pauses and narrows his eyes, not at me but just in general. ¡°Except for Miranda, of course ¡­ and you.¡±


    I¡¯m not quite sure what to say to that, so I don¡¯t say anything, turning to examine the row of books in front of us. They¡¯re all titles penned by alumni, some of which pertain to the construction of the school or its many


    additions. Since our chemistry project has to do with levels of contamination in the soil and building materials, we¡¯re trying to match up the time period in which the contaminants might¡¯ve urred.


    Tristan and I reach for the same book and our hands bump together, heat searing up my fingers and into my arm. My pulse races, and I have to swallow back a small sound of surprise. Do all the girls feel this way when they touch him? Is that why he¡¯s always sleeping with a new one?


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a list of titles on my phone that I looked up that might be helpful,¡± I say, reaching into my bookbag and pulling it out. Tristan just stands there in his perfectly polished uniform, not a button out of ce, not a single crease or stain. The way he holds his head tells me he knows he¡¯s the king, even if the other guys don¡¯t want to believe it. My eyes scan the list and then I hand it over to him, and we start pulling out books andying them on the table.


    When none of those gives us the information we¡¯re looking for, we head back into the shelves, our bodies pressed close in the tight space. I can smell him, too, this fresh, sharp peppermint and cinnamon mix that makes my nostrils tingle. He reaches around me a few times, effectively pinning me against the bookcase with his warm, hard body pressed up against my back.


    Holy Frap.


    As he pulls away, there¡¯s this rush of cool air, like I¡¯m free-falling when all I want is to be held close.


    My eyes close and I exhale.


    ¡°Something the matter?¡± Tristan asks, still standing far too close to me. His lips touch the side of my head as he talks and his left hand finds my shoulder, kneading my knotted flesh with an expert¡¯s touch. A groan escapes me and I lean back into him without even meaning to.


    Marnye, what are you doing?! I snap at myself, opening my eyes and pulling away. There¡¯s a book we missed before that I recognize from the list of titles I made, and I reach up to get it as Tristan steps back. Of course ¡­ I tried so hard not to freak out over myck of panties that Ipletely forgot to be cautious about not wearing any. My skirt lifts up and I swear, I can feel a cool breeze on my bare ass.


    Tristan¡¯s hands fall on my hips, and I hear him exhale sharply.


    ¡°Can I ask for that favor now?¡± he whispers, his voice seduction incarnate, winding around me and working its way inside my chest.


    ¡°What¡¯s the favor?¡± I choke out, feeling the warmth of his hands through my skirt. He leans in close and puts his mouth next to my ear again.


    ¡°Let me touch you.¡±


    My heart explodes in my chest, and I find myself nodding before I even realize what I¡¯m doing.


    Tristan moves his hands over my hips and under my skirt, cupping my bare ass in his palms. I¡¯ve literally never done anything like this before, so I find myself holding my breath until I¡¯ve gone dizzy, leaning in against the bookshelf with my arms still over my head, fingers clutching the edge of the shelf.


    He cups my bottom in a tight grip, his breath ragged and warm against my ear. I can barely hear him though, or anything else for that matter because my heart is beating so fast that it drowns out the world. A hot, warm throbbing takes ce in my core, and I suddenly want his hands lower, searching for something else.


    It feels fated, this meeting of ours, in the dark, quiet shadows of the library.


    If Harper and Becky hadn¡¯t stolen my panties, if I hadn¡¯t stood on my tiptoes to grab the book, if Tristan hadn¡¯t been standing so close behind me


    ¡­


    My breath rushes out in a gasp as his palms travel over the curve of my ass, sliding up and underneath the pleats of my skirt before trailing down the outsides of my thighs. With a sudden curse, Tristan steps back and I turn to face him, our bodies just inches apart. His cks can¡¯t hide the bulge underneath, and his eyes are far too dark and dripping with lust to be fake.


    This wasn¡¯t nned. I can feel it.


    ¡°Your debt to me is paid,¡± he says, turning and heading for the table. He scoops up a box of slides and storms off toward the microfilm reader. I¡¯m not sure whether to go or stay, but I feel hot and achy and confused, so I just grab my bookbag and bail.


    The next time I see Tristan, he has the project finished, and we don¡¯t talk about what happened in the library.

 61

    While the Idol boys are being, for the most part, pleasant, the girls are at their worst. And the Inner Circle isn¡¯t much better. On thest Friday of the month, just after grades are posted and I take second ce behind Tristan (damn it!), I get a call that Vice Principal Castor wants to see me.


    His office is located in the administration building just outside the chapel. My heart is thundering, my palms sweaty as I make my way out the door and along the windy gravel path. The gardens on either side are beautiful, carefully manicured, and filled withte winter flowers like daffodils, California golden currants, and fragrant rosemary. The sun is shining, and the air is perfumed with sweetness. I¡¯m nervous, but not overly so.


    Not until I knock on the man¡¯s door and hear a gruff invitation from the other side.


    Vice Principal Paul Castor is in histe fifties, early sixties with graying hair, a short beard and mustache, and arms thick from strenuous workouts. Sometimes I see him jogging around campus after school and on weekends. He lives on the Burberry Prep campus, several miles down the road in the staff housing.


    ¡°Come in and take a seat, Miss Reed,¡± he says, his voice hard. The way his gray-blue eyes track me, I know right away I¡¯m in trouble. He¡¯s staring at me like I¡¯ve already done something wrong, and he¡¯s simply deciding on the correct form of punishment.


    I do as he asks, folding my skirt underneath my thighs, and doing my best not to think about Tristan¡¯s hands roaming around down there. As soon as that thought enters my mind, a hot flushes to my cheeks, and I have to swallow around a lump in my throat.


    Last night, I had a three hour texting conversation with Lizzie about Tristan. The way she talks about him, you¡¯d think he walked on water. She actually likes the guy. When I tried asking her how she felt about breaking up with him, she waited almost a half an hour before texting me back.


    If I had any other FhoiFe, I¡¯d still be with them.


    And what sort of answer is that?Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Miss Reed,¡± Mr. Castor repeats, folding his hands on the top of his desk. He stares me down like we¡¯re in an interrogation room. ¡°Do you know why I called you here?¡± I shake my head, but I¡¯m still all jumbled up with thoughts of Tristan, so it¡¯s hard to force my mouth to speak coherent thoughts. ¡°We¡¯ve received almost two dozenints from students across all four years here at Burberry Prep, that you¡¯ve been selling your services.¡±


    My mouth drops open, and my cheeks me red.


    Services ¡­ as in ¡­ does Mr. Castor think I¡¯m a Working Girl from the Brothel, too?


    ¡°Homework, essays, answers to test,¡± he continues, and I almost breathe a sigh of relief. Oh, those sorts of serviFes. But then I realize the implications present in that. Over two dozen Fomints?! ¡°The usations havee from students with very credible reputations, and we need to take them seriously.¡±


    ¡°As seriously as you took the usations about my out of control drinking?¡± I snap, a high note of panic in my voice. Mr. Castor looks chagrined, and sighs.


    ¡°Look, I understand you¡¯ve been having trouble fitting in, but two dozenints is too many. Miss Reed, you are talented and bright, but unless there¡¯s some secret coup against you then-¡±


    ¡°There is a secret coup!¡± I shout. I don¡¯t mean to raise my voice, but I¡¯m starting to panic here. My hands curl into fists in the red pleats of my skirt.


    ¡°We have proof, copies of identical homework assignments with your handwriting on them.¡±


    My brows crinkle up, but I can¡¯t figure out how exactly they swung that one.


    ¡°Can I see these copies?¡± I ask, because I know if I take a look at them, then I¡¯ll be able to determine if it really is my handwriting. Mr. Castor gives me a tight half-smile and opens a folder on his desk, passing over a sheet of paper that most definitely has my writing on it. The only difference is that the name¡¯s been changed. Two minutes with Photoshop could fix that. I wrack my brain as I stare at the sheet of paper, and then it all clicks.


    My locker, the day my panties were stolen. I had this exact assignment in there, and when I couldn¡¯t find it, I just asked our Japanese teacher, Mrs. Suzuki-Suzuki Sensei-for another one.


    ¡°We have four students who turned this in as proof, another dozen with identical math homework, and so on. Miss Reed, if you confess right now and give up the names of all the students involved, we¡¯ll make the punishment light. After all, buying these services is nearly as bad as selling them, and we can¡¯t exactly expel over two dozen students.¡± He sighs and sits back in his chair. ¡°We¡¯ll start with a two week suspension wherein you¡¯ll return home, but take your schoolwork with you. Any assignment that¡¯s been copied will have a grade of zero, and you¡¯ll lose your ce in the student rankings.¡±


    My heart turns to ice and plummets into my stomach, shattering to pieces. I mp my hand over my mouth and feel so sick that I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve even got the strength to stand up and make it over to one of the potted nts in the corner. I¡¯ve been working hard, so fucking hard.


    The Idol boys, Tristan in particr,e to mind. He just surpassed me in rank, but it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if-


    There¡¯s a sharp knock on the double doors, but whoever it is that¡¯s on the other side doesn¡¯t wait for confirmation. They swing inward, and Tristan Vanderbilt strolls in with Zayd Kaiser on one side, and Creed Cabot on the other.


    ¡°Boys,¡± Mr. Castor begins as they stroll up, Zayd on my left, Creed on my right. Tristan stands behind me and puts both of his hands on my shoulders. When he squeezes, a swarm of butterflies takes off in my belly.


    ¡°Vice Principal Castor,¡± Tristan begins, his voice cold and arrogant and full of disdain. It¡¯s quite clear in the way he speaks to the man that he doesn¡¯t respect him. ¡°I¡¯ve just been made aware of the usations leveled at Miss Reed.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Vanderbilt, you know I can¡¯t discuss the business of other students


    -¡±


    Tristan halts the man¡¯s words with a wave of his hand. With the other, he starts to massage my shoulder, and I almost melt in my chair. Zayd is grinning on my left, winking at me when I nce his way. Creed just looks bored andpletely and utterly put out. If he were a cat, his tail would be flicking in irritation.


    ¡°I can name every student who came to you with aint,¡± Tristan continues, his voice like an inky night sky, endless and ck but with a few stars here and there to brighten things up. ¡°And I can tell you exactly how they got the assignments in question.¡± He reaches into the pocket of his academy jacket and pulls out a set of keys. ¡°I found these on the floor in the chapel.¡± He tosses them over to Mr. Castor.


    ¡°You expect me to believe that?¡± Mr. Castor asks, and when I look back at him, Tristan has one brow cocked over his steel gray eyes.


    ¡°Believe it,¡± Creed drawls, yawning and rolling his shoulders. ¡°We have a lot of influence in this school, or haven¡¯t you noticed?¡± His blue eyes sharpen, and I¡¯m reminded of his confrontation with Derrick. Only this time, it¡¯s not Miranda he¡¯s defending, it¡¯s me.


    A warmth suffuses my chest that I can¡¯t put a name to. But it feels good.


    Really, really good.


    ¡°A lot of the other students are jealous of Marnye,¡± Zayd says, sliding his inked hands into the pockets of his cks. ¡°So they ganged up on her. We took care of it.¡± He tilts his head to the side, and reaches up to rake his fingers through his mint green hair, turning it into a sea of sharp spikes. ¡°It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Creed smiles wickedly and for a moment there, I almost forget that he was the first one to try to go to the staff to get me in trouble. Is this all a game? Did they report me so they could save me? But no, what would be the point of that?


    ¡°We¡¯ll be taking Marnye now. Punish the users however you want.¡± Creed turns to leave and Tristan drops his hands from my shoulders, offering me one to help me out of the chair. I take it cautiously, ncing back at Mr. Castor, but his mouth is ttened into a thin line and it doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s going to protest.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here before he finds something else to bitch about,¡± Zayd whispers, and the four of us sweep out the doors and into the sunshine.


    ¡°What was that all about?¡± I ask as Tristan pulls me down the path and then pushes me into a little alcove. His hands are on either side of the


    archwa


    y, and his face is so close we could kiss.

 62

    ¡°Harper and Becky are not pleased with you,¡± he says, reaching up to run a thumb along my lower lip. Zayd makes a growling sound from behind him, and Creed narrows his blue eyes to slits, but they don¡¯t try to intervene. ¡°The half of the Inner Circle that¡¯s not loyal to us, they reported you, along with a handful of Plebs.¡± Tristan smiles at me, cupping my chin in his hand. ¡°But like Zayd said, we took care of it.¡±


    He releases me suddenly and steps back, making my head spin.


    ¡°Why are you guys helping me?¡± I ask, blinking through a sudden rush of emotion. ¡°I thought ¡­¡±


    ¡°Just keep those grades up,¡± Tristan says, pausing on his way down the path so he can turn and look at me. ¡°I only like beating worthy opponents. When I crush you academically, it¡¯ll be on my own merit.¡± He turns away and leaves me with Zayd and Creed.


    ¡°Dinner in The Mess?¡± Zayd asks, tilting his head to one side and giving me a panty-melting grin. ¡°My treat.¡± My own lips twist up in a smile; I can¡¯t help it. I feel heady with emotion right now. ¡°Creed?¡± He watches me, and I can¡¯t shake that memory of dancing with him during the winter formal. I felt like a princess swept away in a fairytale.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass,¡± he says, slouching against the edge of the alcove and kicking one foot up against it. His eyes meet mine, and a spark snaps between us. ¡°I will, however, walk you to orchestra practice tomorrow. It¡¯s about as far as I can manage before I need a nap.¡± He winks at me, slides down the wall, and kicks out one leg, keeping the other bent at the knee. I¡¯ve never seen anyone luxuriate like he does, sitting in the sun with that white-gold hair sparkling, his phone in his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that,¡± I say, letting Zayd put his arm around my waist. He guides me down the path and I feel the strangest burst of emotion in my chest, like a flower blooming in the spring sunshine.


    I wish this feeling couldst forever.


    The entire social scene at Burberry Prep revolves around a single day in February: Valentine¡¯s Day.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t get a rose, you¡¯re worse than a Pleb,¡± Miranda exins, and then flushes, mping a hand over her mouth. I smile at her, but she¡¯s already rushing to exin herself. ¡°Not like, well ¡­ I¡¯ll be sending you a rose for sure. You don¡¯t have to worry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you one, too,¡± I say as we walk down the hall toward our lockers. I don¡¯t use mine as much since my dorm is actually in the chapel building, but everybody else lives in Tower Three, so they stuff them full of things. Honestly, because we use tablets andptops in most every ss, and physical textbooks have gone the way of the dinosaurs, the lockers function more as a social hub and a ce to store personal items people want during the day. When we stop at Miranda¡¯s, she gets out a soda and a bag of cashews.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    I once saw inside Tristan¡¯s locker and noticed a box of condoms. Zayd keeps a guitar in his. I¡¯ve never seen Creed¡¯s.


    ¡°Maybe my brother will send you a flower?¡± Miranda teases, hip bumping me as she scoops a handful of cashews into her palm. ¡°He¡¯s walked you to every practice and rehearsal for orchestra, hasn¡¯t he?¡± I shrug my shoulders, but I can¡¯t deny that it¡¯s true. Creed¡¯s been walking me around campus, Zayd¡¯s been eating with me in The Mess, and Tristan just flits in and makes my heart thunder at random moments.


    Maybe ¡­ I¡¯ll get more than just one flower from Miranda?


    And if I do, what does that mean? Are the Idols fucking with me?


    I hate to admit how much I want this new friendship with them. Or more.


    Could be more than friendship ¡­


    Roses can be purchased all week in the student lounge, and are delivered during third period on Valentine¡¯s Day. It¡¯s a Friday, so everyone¡¯s already antsy and ready for the weekend. People shift in their seats and whisper behind cupped hands.


    Ms. Felton gives up trying to actually teach us anything, and we all wait in nervous anticipation for the bouquets to arrive. Tristan is the only member of the Bluebloods, save Miranda, that¡¯s in this ss, and my palms begin to sweat when I see him grab his things and move over to stand beside us.


    I did something ¡­ risky this week.


    I ordered five flowers: one for Miranda, one for Andrew ¡­ and three for the Idol boys.


    I have no idea how they¡¯re going to react to that.


    ¡°Expecting any roses?¡± Tristan asks, and I shrug because I don¡¯t want to tell him the truth: I am. I really, truly am. He doesn¡¯t say anything, just waits for the door to swing in and the staff toe through with massive bouquets of roses in hand. There are buds in every color, all mixed together in a rainbow of differently shaded blossoms.


    The rule is: a student can only order one rose for each recipient.


    Tristan watches as the employee makes her way around the room, handing out bunches of long-stemmed roses and little stacks of cards. When she finishes passing out the flowers in her arms, she heads back out to the cart in the hall and grabs a bunch as big around as my waist. This one she presents to Tristan.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Miranda chokes out, watching as he puts the flowers aside and moves over to the trash can near Ms. Felton¡¯s desk. The whole ss holds its collective breath as Tristan begins to look through the cards that came with them. He tosses the top card into the trash and several of the girls


    gasp. The second card ¡­ also in the trash. Tristan¡¯s gray eyes study the names and dismiss them, one by one. I have no idea how many cards he has, but I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s around a hundred. ¡°I¡¯ve ¡­ never even heard of someone getting so many roses.¡±


    ¡°Trash, trash, trash,¡± Tristan says, chucking one after the other. It¡¯s actually pretty fucking cruel what he¡¯s doing. There¡¯s no reason for it. My cheeks burn, and I can¡¯t help but wonder which one of those cards is mine. ¡°Yawn. No thank you. Stupid bitch.¡±


    ¡°Tristan,¡± I hiss, but he¡¯s ignoring me. The employeees back in and hands Miranda a dozen red and white roses, and a small stack of cards. Me, I get exactly five. Blinking in surprise, I look through the notes and find one from Andrew, one from Miranda, and three from the guys. Exactly the same people that I sent roses to.


    My head snaps up and I find Tristan staring at me. He ps the remaining cards against the palm of his hand, smiles at me, and then dumps all but one in the garbage.


    ¡°To Tristan Vanderbilt,¡± he reads, his voice somanding that most everyone in ss stops to listen. ¡°Thank you for being a good friend. I¡¯m d we Fould overFome our differenFes. Love, Marnye Reed.¡± He snaps my name off his tongue like a curse ¡­ or a promise. My heart thunders as I stare at him and wonder if he¡¯s going to chuck my note in the trash next. ¡°Thanks, Marnye. I love it.¡± Tristan snatches a single red rose from the bouquet, tucks it behind his ear, and then hands the rest to some random first-year girl.

 63

    Hees over to stand in front of me, and pulls a gold box from his pocket.


    ¡°Enjoy.¡± He tosses it on my desk, tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and saunters out.


    My mouth is basically on the fucking floor.


    ¡°Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, open it,¡± Miranda chokes out, grabbing the box and practically shoving it into my arms. Everyone in ss is definitely staring at me now, even Ms. Felton. ¡°I mean, I pretty much hate the guy, but ¡­ Tristan Vanderbilt does not fall for girls. Ever. You¡¯re like, the seconding of Lizzie.¡± I give her a please shut up look, and crack the box open.


    There¡¯s a white gold diamond ne inside with a pair of roses on it. ¡°What ¡­¡± I start as Miranda gags next to me, fluttering her hands in my


    direction.


    ¡°I know this ne. I saw it at Neiman Marcus. I almost bought it.¡± When I just sit there staring at it, she takes it from me and puts it around my neck.


    ¡°How much is this worth?¡± I ask, feeling like I might choke.


    Miranda sps the ne and sits back, looking at me with a sheepish expression on her face.


    ¡°Um, eighty thousand?¡± she says questioningly, and I choke, reaching a hand up to touch the pair of roses. I cannot keep this. There¡¯s no way I can freaking keep this. Why ¡­ what is going on?!


    Before I can voice any of my concerns to Miranda, Harper du Pontes storming into the ssroom, ripping Tristan¡¯s bouquet away from the startled looking Pleb girl. Like a hurricane, she sweeps into the room and plucks one of the cards from the trash before spinning to face me. When she sees the ne around my throat, she lets out of one of her pterodactyl screeches.


    ¡°You are so fucking done, Reed!¡± she snaps, moving out the door before Ms. Felton gets a chance to stop her.


    I¡¯m not sure whether to be afraid ¡­ or exhrated. Maybe a healthy dose of both?


    On my way out of the ssroom, one of the academy couriers who hands out mail and packages from home stops me and passes over a small box. As he moves on with his deliveries, I pull the small pink envelope off the top as Miranda whistles under her breath.


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotten ¡­ popr,¡± she says, but not like she¡¯s jealous or anything, just in awe.


    I know FhoFtes aren¡¯t your thing, the note reads. Enjoy. ZaFk.


    A smile lights my face as I open the box to an assorted collection of artisan caramels.


    Wow.


    ¡°These are my favorite,¡± I whisper, feeling a red flush warm my cheeks.


    I¡¯m ¡­ this day just can¡¯t be real. Days like this do not happen to me.


    ¡°Girl,¡± Miranda starts, raising her brows and biting her lip to hold back augh. ¡°Creed is going to lose his mind. I think he actually likes you now.¡±


    ¡°He does not,¡± I retort, but then I think about the way he kissed me on the deck of the steamboat, and my stomach flutters. I touch a hand to the ne and feel my heart beating beneath it. ¡°I mean, how could he? I thought they all hated me?¡± Miranda just stares at me like she¡¯s as confused as I am.


    We head down the hall to my room and find Zayd waiting for us. He¡¯s tapping a bouquet of roses against the wall in time to a beat we can¡¯t hear. He¡¯s got one ear bud in, the other hanging down his chest.


    ¡°Billie Eilish,¡± he says, pointing at his ear, and then he pauses the music and tucks his phone in his pocket. ¡°Looks like he got to you before I did.¡± Zayd¡¯s eyes narrow as he reaches out and lifts the ne off my chest, his fingers brushing my skin and sending shivers through me.


    ¡°Before you did?¡± I ask, and he grins, stepping aside, so I can use my keys to get into my dorm. I set my flowers and caramels on the counter and turn around to find Zayd offering me yet another box. Holy crap. Guess today is my lucky day?


    ¡°Any idiot can buy a ne,¡± he says proudly, nodding in the direction of the box with his chin. ¡°But check this shit out.¡± I give him a skeptical look and lift the thin top off the box, finding a sea of colorful truffles underneath. ¡°Homemade, motherfucker.¡± Zayd flops down on my bed and leans back on his palms.


    ¡°You made these?¡± I ask, and he shrugs.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking PraFtiFal Skills this semester,¡± he says, and Miranda interrupts him.


    ¡°Trantion: home economics for rich kids who¡¯ve never done a load ofundry in their life.¡± Zayd flips her off, and then leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees.


    ¡°Yeah, whatever. Butst week was a lesson on making artisan choctes. As you can see, artisan fucking chocte.¡± He pauses as I reach into the box to pluck one out. ¡°Just a warning: there¡¯s about ten milligrams of weed in each one of those.¡± With a scoff, I drop the chocte back in the box as heughs. ¡°Sativa, it¡¯ll keep you going all night long.¡± Zayd lifts his hips up and makes a dirty undting motion that I find I like way too much. ¡°You are going to the garden party, right?¡± he asks, and I shrug. There are too many parties here to keep track of. ¡°You have to go, seriously.¡± He stands up


    es over to stand beside me, plucking a rose from my bouquet, snapping most of the stem off, and tucking it behind my ear. ¡°Come on, Working Girl.¡±


    I sigh, but I know I¡¯m getting dragged into this.


    There¡¯s a banquet starting outside at four-thirty with food and drinks and games.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± I say with a sigh and both Miranda and Zayd get way too excited. Miranda hugs me, and kisses me on the cheek.


    ¡°Come back to my ce and we¡¯ll get ready together?¡± I nod as Zayd once again opens my wardrobe and starts digging around inside of it. He emerges with the lemon-printed dress I wore to the Cabot Schrship Award ceremony, and hands it over to me.

 64

    ¡°Why are you always trying to dress me?¡± I groan as I take the dress from him. As he passes over the hanger, Zayd curls his inked fingers around my wrist and yanks me against him.


    ¡°Because you look like a fucking hobo half the time,¡± he growls, and then he bites my ear, grabs a chocte, and pops it in his mouth. ¡°Later,dies. See you in the courtyard.¡±


    Zayd ms the door behind him, and Miranda turns to me like I¡¯ve grown tentacles.


    ¡°How are you going to choose?¡± she whispers, eyes wide, and I gape at her.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to choose.¡± I grab the white ts Miranda lent me when we went into town to shop, and stand up, meeting her incredulous look with one of my own. ¡°There¡¯s not. I¡¯ll never forget how shitty these guys treated me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but ¡­¡± she reaches out and taps the ne with a sort of forlorn expression that I can¡¯t interpret. Once again, I question myself and try to decide if she¡¯s got a thing for Tristan. But no, no, it¡¯s got to be something else, something I¡¯m not getting. ¡°It¡¯s nice to be wanted, right?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more to life than boys,¡± I say, and she lifts her eyes to mine, blue irises sparkling.


    ¡°Truer words were never spoken.¡± Now ¡­ what the hell is that about?


    Creed is waiting in the courtyard when wee down, dressed in flouncy spring dresses, my ne sparkling in the afternoon sunshine. He¡¯s leaning against the garden wall, head thrown back, eyes closed. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the top two buttons on his uniform undone, one foot t against the wall.


    He opens his eyes and turns to us with slow precision, yawning and then stretching his arms over his head,pletely and utterly unhurried.


    ¡°How many roses did you get?¡± Miranda demands, putting her hands on the hips of her bright orange dress. It¡¯s citrus themed, too, just like mine, but a good three inches shorter, and two sizes smaller. ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure Tristan got a hundred.¡±


    Creed¡¯s face tightens up and he flicks his sister in the forehead, tucking his hands back in his pocket and leaning in close to her.


    ¡°I got plenty. I didn¡¯t think to count.¡± He stands back up and his eyes flick over to me. He doesn¡¯t say thank you, but his eyes sparkle in acknowledgement, and I flush.


    ¡°Right. Because you know you got less than he did,¡± she taunts, but Creed¡¯s ignoring her, looking me up and down.


    ¡°I hear you got all sorts of gifts today,¡± he drawls, and I bite my lower lip. ¡°Enough.¡± I can hear people milling around in the garden, the soft sound of ssical music spilling over to us along with the gentle sweetness of


    roses.


    ¡°Mm.¡± Creed circles around me and then puts a hand on the wall near my head. ¡°Fucking vultures,¡± he says, reaching out to y with a loose strand of my hair. ¡°Would it be apropos if I gave you another gift?¡±


    ¡°You better give her a gift,¡± Miranda mumbles, her eyes scanning the crowd until she spots Andrew. She gives him a little wave, and then nces back at us. ¡°I¡¯ll give you two a little privacy.¡± She wanders away with her hands in her dress pockets, as I blush and watch Creed reach up to the top of the garden wall, grabbing something in his long fingers.


    When he hands it over to me, I see that it¡¯s a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.


    ¡°It¡¯s not the handwritten version,¡± he says with a small grimace, ncing away like he¡¯s ashamed of himself. ¡°But it¡¯s signed.¡±


    I take the book in shaking hands, but I can¡¯t stop the tears that try to fall. They prick my eyes as I turn away and try to blink them off. Creed notices and gives a small half-smile, pausing as Becky tter marches over to us. She¡¯s like a little Harper clone. Whatever her mistress says or does, she just imitates.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°You think because Zayd made some stupid choctes for you that you¡¯ve won?¡± she snaps, and I raise my brows. I haven¡¯t even considered ¡®winning¡¯ anything, least of all him. This whole day has just been ¡­ weird. ¡°He doesn¡¯t give a shit about you. He just wants to fuck you, so he can say he bagged a virgin.¡±


    I frown. Honestly, that sounds like theplete opposite of Zayd. He¡¯s very vocal on his opinions of virgins. But also ¡­ now I know the whole school is aware of my sexual status. Great.


    ¡°Becky,¡± Creed says, nice and slow and quiet, but with a dripping menace that makes me shiver. ¡°Go to hell.¡± She snaps her gaze over to him, but she¡¯s still fuming. ¡°Zayd spent every day after school in the kitchen this week perfecting those choctes. He ruined over twenty boxes worth. It¡¯s more than just candy, sweetie. Now get.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t control me, Creed Cabot,¡± Becky snaps, tossing her blond hair. ¡°You¡¯re no higher on the totem pole than I am.¡±


    ¡°Keep telling yourself that,¡± he purrs, pushing off the wall and facing her down.


    ¡°And you keep telling yourself that Tristan Vanderbilt isn¡¯t a hundred times better than you, and maybe one day, the world will believe it as much as you do.¡± Becky spins on her heel and storms off, stilettos cking against the cobblestones.


    When I look back at Creed, his face is tight, and I can see she actually hit a nerve with that one.


    ¡°Bitch,¡± he growls, and then he turns back to me, looking for a split- second like he¡¯s actually confused about my presence there. I blink once, and the expression is gone. Creed holds out his arm, and I slip mine through it. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about her,¡± he tells me with a causticugh. ¡°She won¡¯tst another year as an Idol. She¡¯s too weak.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about her,¡± I whisper, holding the book against my chest. Becky is just another bully, and I¡¯m beyond ustomed to dealing with people like her at this point. I¡¯m just d I don¡¯t have to deal with Zayd, Tristan, and Creed anymore. Or Zack. Talk about challenging ¡­ Becky is nothingpared to them.


    Creed leads us over to a table where Zayd and Tristan are sitting. Neither of them looks particrly happy about being together. Zayd¡¯s green eyes meet mine, and I smile. Twenty boxes, huh? The fact that he had the discipline to work so hard on those choctes makes me want to cry. But in a good way. In a really, really good way.


    ¡°None of us could agree on who should escort you here tonight, so ¡­ we¡¯re basically stuck with each other.¡± Zayd flicks a nce over at Tristan and scowls. The other boy ignores him, focusing on my ne before lifting those stormy gray eyes to my face.


    ¡°Sit,¡± he says, and I do. Creed leans against the column behind me as I grab a colorful little tea sandwich and take a bite. Cream cheese and cucumber. Interesting. ¡°Do you like your ne?¡± Tristan asks after a minute, sliding his legs underneath the table so that our limbs are tangled together. I look up at him, and my heart stutters in my chest.


    ¡°I love it,¡± I say, and then I nce at Zayd, at Creed. ¡°I love everything.¡±


    InFluding ZaFk¡¯s gift. I¡¯ll have to text himter.


    ¡°Good,¡± Tristan says, leaning back and smirking at me with that cocksure little smile of his. ¡°Because I told you I was interested. And when I¡¯m serious about something, I get what I want.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t count on it, bro,¡± Zayd chokes out with augh.


    Creed doesn¡¯t say a thing, but the way he smiles and narrows his eyes, I see the challenge in them.


    How are you going to Fhoose? Miranda asked me. Good fucking question.

 65

    Tutoring with Creed is going well. He¡¯s actually ridiculously smart, he just chooses not to apply himself. When he buckles down and focuses, it¡¯s all easy for him. He could be top of the ss, too, if he wanted.


    Since we¡¯re both busy with schoolwork and orchestra and social gatherings, the only times we¡¯ve been able to agree on for our sessions are early afternoons on Saturdays, andte afternoons on Sundays. Today, I¡¯m hurrying over after orchestra rehearsals, taking the elevator to the top floor and knocking until Miranda lets me in.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she says, stepping back. ¡°Creed¡¯s in the shower, but just make yourself at home.¡± I notice that she¡¯s all dressed up in a blue and white striped dress, strappy heels, and a fancy updo. My brows go up, and she blushes. ¡°I¡¯m just ¡­ Andrew and I are going into town today to grab a bite to eat at that little cafe we went to. You know the one.¡± She gestures at me, and nervousughter falls from her glossed lips.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You know, if you¡¯re dating Andrew, I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t think Creed would-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ it¡¯splicated,¡± Miranda says, getting flushed. She lifts her head up and smiles at me, but there¡¯s a tightness to it. She¡¯s not going to be revealing any secrets to me today. ¡°I have to go, but we¡¯ll hang outter tonight, watch a movie or something?¡± I nod, and Miranda takes off, letting the door m behind her.


    We¡¯ve been watching a lot of moviestely in here with Creed, and he¡¯s started sitting right next to me on the couch or pulling me into hisp. I end up not watching a single second of whatever film is on because I¡¯m focusing so much of my energy on where his hands are, if he¡¯s hard underneath me, on his soap and fresh cotton smell.


    Settling down on the couch, I lean back to wait until I hear the shower turn off, and a door opening somewhere. The bathroom here has three doors, like a jack and jill, but with an additional entrance from the living room. Once I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve given Creed enough time to have safely exited to his room, I stand up, give a quick knock, and then try the door. I haven¡¯t had a chance to pee since I left my dorm for orchestra this morning, and I really need to go.


    When the door opens however, I¡¯m left staring at Creed, wet and hot and steaming, a white towel around his slender hips. He¡¯sbing his hair, and as he nces back at me, the towel slips and falls to the floor. My mouth gapes open at the sight of his firm ass, and that¡¯s before he turns around and shows me exactly what he¡¯s working with.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I blurt, but I make no move to leave, and Creed¡¯s mouth turns up in a sharp smile.


    He takes a step closer to me, leaning over and putting his mouth next to my forehead before brushing it with a light kiss.


    ¡°Were you trying to join me, Charity?¡± he asks, his voice a whisper against my skin. I can feel his lips moving and heat shoots through me. Creed lifts his hands and puts his warm palms on my upper arms. I do my best not to look down, but ¡­ he strikes a beautiful nude, this boy. ¡°Because I¡¯d happily get back in the shower if you¡¯d join me.¡±


    He trails his fingers down my arms, and I close my eyes. I should tell him no, turn away, run as fast as I can. Instead I stand there until he sweeps an arm around my waist and pulls me against his naked body. One hand skims up my side and finds my breast, taking the full mound in a tight grip and squeezing it as he drops his mouth to mine. My nipples pebble, and even through the fabric, it¡¯s almost unbearable when Creed sweeps his thumb across it.


    His tongue dives into my mouth and I lean into him, putting my palms on his chest. Heat sweeps my body, burning my inhibitions to ash. There¡¯s no inkling in my mind to stop, and I wonder how far I would¡¯ve let it go if Miranda hadn¡¯t popped back in the apartment and dropped her purse in shock.


    ¡°Oh ¡­ shit.¡±


    I shove Creed back, turn, and push past Miranda into the hallway.


    I don¡¯t stop panting until I¡¯m safely back in my room with the door locked.


    Later, I text Creed and let him know that I¡¯d like to have our tutoring sessions in the library.


    He sends me a picture in response that I very promptly delete. And then spend hours looking up how to un-delete.


    Ugh.


    The rest of March is a blur, my time split between the guys, Miranda and Andrew, sswork and orchestra. Zack and I are texting almost everyday now, while Lizzie and I send messages almost every hour. She¡¯s actually going to the same getaway for spring break that I am, a musical intensive sponsored by the academy. It¡¯s open to all schools, but thepetition is fierce. When I was in eighth grade, I used to dream about being epted. Now, it¡¯s an automatic. If you¡¯re signed up for orchestra, you¡¯re signed up for the retreat if you want the spot.


    Zayd is also going.


    ¡°At my old school,¡± I start, realizing as I say it that I sound exactly like Phoebe Terese from The MagiF SFhool Bus. ¡°We used to ride buses to school-rted events. You know, those big, yellow things with the seat-belt free seats?¡±


    He rolls his eyes at me, and then scoops me up in his arms, carrying me over to the back of the white Cadic Escde that¡¯s waiting with our luggage in the back. I can¡¯t remember how many Burberry Prep kids are going, but not a lot. Most people want to spend their spring break somewhere warm and tropical.

 66

    Tristan is in Fiji with his dad while Miranda and Creed went home to Florida. Andrew is with his cousins in Texas, and Zack is back in Cruz Bay. He even texted to tell me that my dad had a bad day and didn¡¯t make it to work, that he lost his job and that rent and electricity didn¡¯t get paid. I


    offered to send some money from the ount Tristan made me, but Zack said he¡¯d already taken care of it.


    Of course, then I felt guilty for not going home for spring break. But this music program, it could be life-changing for me.


    ¡°I know what a bus is, dumb dumb,¡± Zayd says, hoisting me into the center row and then crawling up beside me. ¡°We filmed myst music video in one.¡± I roll my eyes, but I can¡¯t help but wonder how and why Zayd is even here.


    ¡°You already have a music career,¡± I start as he nces over at me, ¡°so what¡¯s this about?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re never too good to learn from someone else,¡± Zayd says, shrugging his shoulders and then tapping out several rapid text messages on his phone. He pauses to look over at me, his mouth twisting in this totally self-assured little smile. ¡°Besides, I knew you were going, and figured you¡¯d wantpany.¡±


    ¡°Considering Harper and Becky will be there, most definitely.¡± My smile stretches wide, and Zayd reaches out to pinch my cheek with his inked fingers. I p him away, but he justughs, and then grabs my face between his hands, kissing me smack on the lips.


    My cheeks burn with heat, but I sink back in my chair, curl my legs up underneath me and just watch him for the majority of the drive. There are other students in the back seat, and Mr. Carter in the front, but nobody bothers me or picks on me, not with Zayd sitting right there. I have plenty of time to myself to text Zack and Lizzie, to look at a picture Miranda just sent me of her and Creed sitting on the beach. He¡¯s shirtless, his pale skin wless and glowing under the hot sun. I bet hees back with a tan ¡­ or a burn.


    We wind our way south and east, toward this camp on the edge of a massiveke. It¡¯s probably three or four times the size of the one back at the academy. When we crest the hill and I see it, my breath slips out in a gasp.


    There are over a hundred students attending, each with a different passion or specialty. Since I¡¯m on the harp, I get paired up with Becky (gag), and one other girl from Coventry Prep who says she knows Zack, and assigned a cabin on the opposite side of theke from Lizzie and Zayd, both of whom are here to focus on the piano.


    Zayd gives me a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and a pat on the ass before he takes off across the grass and I flip him off. Lizzie is waiting on the other


    side of theke, and I can just barely see her as she waves to me. I wave back, but we won¡¯t be able to actually hang out untilter this evening, at dinner.


    That¡¯s okay though, because even though I¡¯m stuck with Becky, I know I have allies here. Besides, it¡¯s better than being at home with Jennifer hovering around, and dad gazing at her like she¡¯s the love of his life. Anyway, the harp is one of my passions, and I don¡¯t mind spending spring break getting better at it.


    Doing what you love makes the day go by quickly, and before I realize it, the sun¡¯s already sunk beneath the surface of theke, and I¡¯m heading across the grass toward the mess hall.


    Stepping into the giant log cabin with its pic tables, red stic trays, and cafeteria food makes meugh. The students at Burberry Prep might call our restaurant The Mess, but this ce is far more deserving of that name.


    ¡°Hey, Working Girl,¡± Zayd calls out, waving me over to sit next to him and Lizzie. She rises from the table and gives me a big hug before scooting a tray in front of me and grinning.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°We got here before everybody else, so I grabbed you the good stuff.¡± She points at the pizza on my te, and then gestures in the direction of the line where people areining because the only thing that¡¯s left is meatloaf. Gross. Based on the smell, I¡¯m pretty sure it has onions in it, too. Double gross.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Iugh, as I pick up a slice and bring it to my lips. ¡°How was your guys¡¯ day?¡±


    ¡°Would¡¯ve been better if you were in it,¡± Zayd says, throwing me a sharp grin. The way he looks at me sends shivers through my whole body. If he really had been around me all day, I wouldn¡¯t have gotten anything done because I¡¯d have been too busy staring at him, memorizing the full curve of his lower lip, or the long dark curves of hisshes. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter though,¡± he continues, folding his tattooed forearms on the table and resting his chin on them. He looks at me from under half-lidded eyes, reminding me of Creed, and that strange situation in the bathroom.


    ¡°What doesn¡¯t matter?¡± Lizzie asks ncing between the two of us. She raises her eyebrows, but she knows how I feel about Zayd. That is to say, she knows that I have no idea what to do with his attention. Or Creed¡¯s. We don¡¯t really talk about Tristan. How can I, when I know that she still loves him?


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna make up for all that time spent apart,¡± Zayd says, grinning. He nods his chin at my pizza and then reaches out and steals a slice. I pretend to p his hand away, but really I¡¯m grinning.

 67

    ¡°How are we gonna do that?¡± I ask, exchanging a nce with Lizzie. She shrugs her thin shoulders and then steals the other piece of pizza from my te.


    ¡°We,¡± Zane begins, shoving thest of the pizza in his mouth and swallowing, ¡°are going skinny dipping.¡±Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    Zayd knocks on the cabin door after curfew, and I let myself out. Fortunately, Becky is sound asleep and snoring, a floral eye mask covering her face. Dressed in nothing but shorts and a tank top, I follow him down to theke and over to a shadowy area protected by a copse of trees.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Lizzie?¡± I whisper, because honestly she seemed pretty excited to take a nude dip in theke. It¡¯s the only reason I¡¯m here. Not because I necessarily wanted her to see me naked. but because there¡¯s no way I¡¯m stripping down when it¡¯s just me and Zayd.


    ¡°Skipped out,¡± he says with a shrug, already in the process of tearing his shirt over his head. ¡°She wanted to give us some privacy.¡± He turns and shes me a cocksure smirk that I can barely see in the moonlight.


    And then his pants are down, and I can see that he even has a few tattoos on his legs. Zayd winks at me, and then turns and dives into theke. He barely makes a ssh, slicing through the water with his tattooed hands, and then reemerging a few feet out. The moonlight reflects off of his white- toothed smile, as I wrap my arms around myself and consider whether or not this is a good idea.


    The old me definitely wouldn¡¯t have done something like this. There¡¯s always the chance that someone like Becky is waiting to sneak up and snap my photo, share it around the whole school. But ¡­ this is the new me. I¡¯m taking chances, making a fresh start. And if Zayd were going to humiliate me, I imagine he coulde up with a more creative way to do it. This just isn¡¯t his style.


    My heart is pounding, and sweat is beading on my forehead. It might be cold outside, but when I dip a toe in theke, it¡¯s still rtively warm. I Fan¡¯t believe I¡¯m doing this, I think as I wait for Zayd to turn his back. And then I tear my shirt over my head. My shorts drop to the ground, and I wade into the water with my arms crossed over my chest.


    Zayd turns around and watches me, his eyes tracking my movements hungrily. When he swims over to stand next to me, water dripping down the sides of his face, I don¡¯t miss the implication. It¡¯s dark, we¡¯re alone, and we¡¯re naked together. Plus, there¡¯s this palpable tension between us that I felt from day one. Even when he was being an irreconcble jerk, I could feel it.


    ¡°Well hello Working Girl,¡± he purrs, swimming in a circle around me. When he pauses, he¡¯s even closer, our bodies just inches apart. I reach out and put a hand on his chest, intending to push him away. Instead, as soon as my hand makes contact with his flesh, we both sigh.


    ¡°I¡¯m not having sex with you,¡± I say, pursing my lips firmly. And I mean it. I won¡¯t let myself get swept up in the Idols and their charisma. It¡¯s just not going to happen. If I decide to have sex, it¡¯ll be on my terms, and in my time. Tonight is not that time.


    Zayd chuckles at me, but manages to keep his howlingughter to a minimum. Thest thing I¡¯d want is for the camp counselors to stumble on us out here. What a scandal that would be. Dad would most certainly kill me. ¡°Hey,¡± Zayd says, shing me another grin. ¡°Don¡¯t make that decision just yet. We have a whole two weeks out here. A lot can happen two weeks.¡± He starts swimming toward the center of theke, gesturing for me to follow


    after him.


    When I first started at Burberry Prep, there¡¯s no way I would¡¯ve joined in. I was too unsure of myself in the water, and I could barely do a dog paddle. But even though Harper and Becky have done their best to make PE a nightmare for me, I¡¯ve actually learned some valuable skills.


    I swim after Zayd¡¯s ass until we¡¯re both bobbing in the center of theke, spinning in slow circles and taking in the majesty of the camp and the trees around us. The moonlight highlights the water, casting a silver glow, and taking the evening from mundane to spectacr.


    The next time Zayd swims so close to me, his eyes are soft, but the tension between us is still white-hot.


    ¡°If I promise not to take it too far ¡­¡± He begins, reaching out and pulling me to him. I put my palms on his chest, and kept a safe distance between our


    bodies. But when Zayd dips his head to mine, our lips brush together, and I open my mouth to let him in.


    His hands slide down my back, and cup my ass, pulling me closer. Without meaning to, I wrap my legs around him. Our bodies are sandwiched together, with nothing between us. His mouth works on mine, his tongue hot and demanding. A moan escapes my lips; it¡¯s a small, quiet sound, but it echoes across the surface of theke, and I feel my cheeks heat with a blush. I push away from him, and he lets me go, falling behind me as I swim back to shore and climb out.


    My ass is already in view before I realize I should¡¯ve told him to turn around. It¡¯s a little toote now though, so I saunter up the beach like I intended to let him see, grab my clothes, and get dressed.


    ¡°Thanks for the view,¡± he says grinning as he too rises out of the water and shes me. As soon as my shirt¡¯s pulled over my head, I slink back to my cabin, crawl in bed, and dream about rocker boys with incredible kisses.

 68

    A few weekster, there¡¯s another Infinity Club party at the lodge. This time, it¡¯s not quite so cold, so the party¡¯s spilled down the hill and into the water. The girls are dressed is mismatched bikini tops and bottoms, while the guys don colorful swim shorts, creating a ssh of brightness against the endless blue of theke.


    When the Idol boys offer to y me at poker, I decline. I learned my lessonst time, and I¡¯m not about to repeat that mistake. Things are going well for me right now, and I¡¯m not about to mess that up by putting myself in debt. I have yet to fulfill my end of the deal with Creed, but I still don¡¯t know anything about Miranda and her dating habits.


    Part of me hopes I never do, so I don¡¯t have to tell her brother. Maybe one day he¡¯ll just stumble onto the information on his own, then my debt will be null and void, and I won¡¯t have to share secrets.


    It¡¯s worth a thought.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t quite get the Infinity Club or what it is,¡± I confess to Lizzie as we sit in chairs on the edge of the shore, watching people ssh around in the water. Her fiance is out there, making an ass out of himself, and she frowns. I notice her eyes go to Tristan whenever he enters a room, and I have to fight back a strange mix of jealousy and pity. Lizzie should be able to date whoever she wants, regardless of her parents¡¯ wishes. But ¡­ also, I think I kind of like Tristan now?


    Lizzie turns her amber eyes over to me and smiles.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to tell you much, but ¡­ it used to be a boys¡¯ club.¡± She sighs and sits up, pushing her dark curls back from her face. ¡°It wasn¡¯t until, like, ten years ago that they started letting women in.¡±


    ¡°Is the gambling stuff ¡­ necessary?¡± I ask and Lizzie shrugs.


    ¡°Infinity Club is about ¡­ risks ¡­ money, connections ¡­ secrets.¡± She exhales sharply and leans back. I can see her infinity tattoo just above her right hip. ¡°Nations thrive and wither depending on the club¡¯s wants. We¡¯re all just, like, the junior version.¡± Sheughs softly, focusing on her blue painted toenails. ¡°We¡¯re being molded into the future rulers of the world.¡±


    I get chills down my spine at the mncholy note in her voice and decide that maybe I¡¯m digging too deep into something I don¡¯t want to know much about. I just want to live a normal life. I¡¯ll never be in their club anyway, so what¡¯s the point?


    The less I know ¡­ the better.


    A shadow falls over me, and I look up to see Zack standing next to my chair. My heart leaps in excitement, and I rise to my feet to give him a hug. He holds me so tight and so close that I can hear his heart beating. His muscr arms give just the right amount of squeeze before he releases me.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while,¡± he says, and I grin as he pulls over a chair to sit next to me and Lizzie.


    The Idol boys are off somewhere doing their thing, but I¡¯ve already seen a race around theke today that almost gave me a heart attack. I was sure one of those fancy sports cars was going in the water, and someone was going to die. They¡¯ve moved onto other stupid games, gambling away fortunes my father¡¯s never even dreamed of, but so long as they don¡¯t start ying Russian roulette, I decide to just leave it be.


    When you¡¯re as rich as they are, life starts to dull around you. They don¡¯t appreciate the little things anymore, so they create big things to entertain themselves. It¡¯s a little sad, actually. I almost feel sorry for them.


    ¡°It has been a while,¡± I say, biting my lower lip and looking over at him. I guess I hadn¡¯t realized how much I¡¯d missed him. Or that I¡¯d missed him at all, really. Zack nces over at me, his brown eyes dark, face unreadable. He¡¯s a mystery to me, but he doesn¡¯t have that cruel streak in him the way the others do. My heart pitter-patters in my chest, and I nce away, catching Lizzie¡¯s amber-eyed stare. She smiles knowingly, and I flush.


    I¡¯m a little jealous that they go to the same school. Or rather, I¡¯m disappointed that Zack didn¡¯t get into Burberry Prep. I would¡¯ve loved


    having him here with me.


    ¡°Your dad misses you,¡± he says, ncing over at me. ¡°I go home every weekend, and I usually stop by his ce. You¡¯re the only thing he talks about.¡± Zack nces out at theke, and all the students sshing andughing and screaming. ¡°He¡¯s really proud of you, you know.¡±


    I nod, but there¡¯s too much emotion in my throat; I feel like it¡¯s choking me. There¡¯s something going on with my dad and Jennifer, that much I know for sure. It¡¯s been bothering me since winter break, but I just can¡¯t figure it out.


    ¡°Has there been a womaning around a lot?¡± I ask, fishing for information. ¡°One who drives a new white Cadic?¡±


    Zack shakes his head, and I sigh in relief. I was starting to worry that my parents might be seeing each other again. What a strange thing for the kid of divorcees to worry about, huh, their parents getting back together ¡­


    ¡°Nothing like that,¡± Zack says, looking over at me again. The way his eyes take me in, it¡¯s like he¡¯s drinking me up, like he¡¯s thirsty and can¡¯t get enough. After a moment, he runs his tongue across his lower lip, like he¡¯s thinking hard about something. ¡°Do you mind if I get changed? We can go swimming or something.¡± I nod, and Zack gets up to head into the lodge.


    When hees back, he¡¯s dressed in ck swim shorts, and nothing else.

 69

    I can see the infinity tattoo above his right hip, and since my eyes are already down there ¡­ Wow. Not only does he have a perfect six pack, he¡¯s also got those delicious V-lines. They draw my eyes down to the waistband of his shorts, briefly wondering what might be underneath.


    Damn.


    All this time spent with Creed, Zayd, and Tristan is really corrupting me. I pretend like I wasn¡¯t just checking Zack out, and take his hand when he offers it to me, letting him pull me to my feet. It¡¯s like I weigh nothing, and in a split-second, I¡¯m up and in his muscr arms, and he¡¯s carrying me to the water.


    Lizzieughs as Zack puts me on an orange floating raft, and pulls me around theke. Today is theplete opposite of my experience with Zayd, hanging out in the bright sun in the warm, warm water with a sea of people around us versus that solitary moonlit excursion ¡­N?velDrama.Org content.


    I grin.


    ¡°Do you like it here?¡± Zack asks me after a while. ¡°I don¡¯t just mean at the lodge, I mean at Burberry Prep in general?¡± He looks at me questioningly,


    and I shrug.


    ¡°If you¡¯d asked me that question a few months ago,¡± I start, reaching up to pull my shades down over my eyes. The sun really is bright today. You can tell that winter¡¯s long-gone, and spring is out in full force. ¡°I¡¯d have given you a different answer. But as of right now, it¡¯s a yes.¡±


    Zack nods, but he doesn¡¯t smile. He looks far away, lost in thought. ¡°They¡¯re not bothering you?¡± He asks, making eye contact with me.


    ¡°Not anymore,¡± I admit, watching him as he gives me a ride around theke, swimming with one arm and pulling me with the other. When we get to the opposite shore, Zack sits on the sandy beach, half in the water, and we hold hands so I don¡¯t float away.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even really like these parties,¡± he says, ncing up at me from under a fall of dark hair. ¡°I only came today because of you.¡±


    My mouth opens in surprise, and I feel a slight blush work its way to my cheeks. I don¡¯t think I ever properly thanked him for the caramels, but the fact that he remembered in the first ce, that meant the world to me. We might not have had the best run of it when we were dating, but he seems to be trying to make up for it now.


    He Fan never make up for what he did to you, my mind whispers, but I ignore it. I¡¯d rather just forget about it all at this point.


    ¡°You came for me?¡± I repeat, and Zack nods, staring off into the distance. He¡¯s not very talkative, but when he says something, he means it. He almost destroyed me with those words of his. I imagine, if he put that strength of his to better use, he could move mountains.


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    Silence falls between us for a while, the only sound thepping of the water against the shore and the birds singing in the trees. When the sun gets too hot, Zack swims me back over to the other side, and we get out, wrapping towels around ourselves and settling in to eat fruit at one of the tables inside the lodge.


    We sit so close, our naked thighs touch. And I decide then that if he asks me to stay the night again, I will. Not for sex or anything like that, but just to talk, hang out. I miss hanging out with Zack.


    After a while, the Idols show back up. Creed scowls as soon as he sees Zack and me sitting together, but Zayd ignores himpletely. He flops down on my other side and pulls me right into hisp.


    Zack notices, and his eyes narrow to slits.


    ¡°You¡¯re here again?¡± Tristan asks, pausing in the kitchen to make himself a drink. I reach up and touch the ne. I didn¡¯t wear it swimming, but as soon as I got out, I put it back on. I like the way it feels against my skin.


    ¡°I can go to whatever goddamn Infinity Club party I want,¡± Zack growls, his voice low and dark. He really, really doesn¡¯t like Tristan Vanderbilt.


    ¡°True,¡± Creed says, sitting down on the opposite side of the table. ¡°But not when all you¡¯re going to do is sit there and pant all over Marnye.¡± Creed¡¯s blue eyes slide over to mine. When our gazes lock, a tingle goes through me and I shiver. Honestly, I don¡¯t mind Zack panting over me, but I¡¯m guessing that none of the Idol boys likes it much.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you worry about yourself, and I¡¯ll worry about me and Marnye?¡± Zack says, crossing his muscr arms over his chest.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t seem to give a shit about Marnye a few years ago,¡± Zayd says absentmindedly, and Zack stiffens up like he¡¯s been punched.


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Zack puts his palms t on the table, and his eyes meet Tristan¡¯s. He switches his gaze from him to Creed, to Zayd, and back again, but I have no idea what¡¯s going on, so I don¡¯t weigh in.


    ¡°You told Marnye about that girl you killed yet?¡± Tristan asks casually,ing over to stand beside us with a drink in his hand. The way he looks down at Zack, it doesn¡¯t bode well. He wants to destroy him. I can see it written into every line of his face, in the way he holds his shoulders, and the way he taps his finger against the side of his cup. ¡°Or, I¡¯m sorry, that girl you almost killed? What happened to her again? She stuffed some pills down her throat in the school bathroom?¡± Tristan¡¯s gaze moves over to mine, and I feel this coldnesse over me. His expression softens slightly, almost apologetically, like he doesn¡¯t want to say these things but has no choice.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I ask, my voice so low it¡¯s practically a whisper. Zack meets my gaze as pain and regret shoots through his. He looks like he¡¯s about to throw up. ¡°Zack?¡±


    Zack grits his teeth and exhales, closing his eyes against a wave of emotion.


    ¡°Go on, tell her,¡± Creed says, leaning his elbowzily on the table and resting his chin in his palm. ¡°Tell her what you did. At least give her the chance to know the real you.¡± He shrugs his shoulders like he doesn¡¯t care much either way. ¡°If she still wants to hang out with you, then good on her. She¡¯s a more forgiving person than I am.¡±


    ¡°Marnie,¡± Zack says, reaching up to take my hand. I let him hold it, let him weave his fingers through mine and marvel at how good it feels. I like Zack. I really do, despite all the things he put me through. ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you.¡±

 70

    When has that line ever lead to something good? Without a doubt, I know that whatever Zack¡¯s going to tell me, I¡¯m not going to like it.


    My eyes dart from him to Tristan and then to Creed as Zayd¡¯s arms tighten around my waist, and he pulls me closer. It feels good, having him touch me like that. I use that as an anchor against the anxiety churning in my stomach. ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack begins again, closing his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m just gonnae out and say it. It¡¯s better if I tell you than they do.¡± He lifts his eyes again and looks right at me. ¡°You know how I treated you in middle school, we don¡¯t have to relive that; we both know how horrible it was.¡± He nces away and then turns back to me again, but it looks like it¡¯s taking him a concentrated


    effort to hold my eyes. ¡°Did you ever wonder why I did it?¡±


    I can¡¯t say anything. My throat is too tight, my pulse is beating too fast, and I feel like I¡¯m going to be sick.


    ¡°I made a bet.¡± Zack exhales sharply and then grits his teeth together. The way he looks at Creed, Zayd, and Tristan makes me think that he¡¯d kill them if he could. When he looks back at me, his expression is much softer. ¡°To get into the Infinity Club, I had to make a bet. The group wanted to taste blood, and they ¡­¡±


    ¡°The girls were the real masterminds behind this one,¡± Creed says, but he doesn¡¯t sound happy about it. He¡¯s wearing a deep frown that looks etched into his face. When he lifts his blue eyes to mine, he looks apologetic. ¡°Because he¡¯d been cut off from his trust fund, they really wanted him to prove himself to the group. They bet him he couldn¡¯t make somebody kill themselves.¡±


    My heart literally stops. I can¡¯t breathe. The room seems to tilt and spin on an axis.


    Lizzie opens the sliding door and walks in, pausing when she notices Tristan. She seems to sense the tension in the room, and her shoulders tighten.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± she asks, looking from me to Tristan to Zack and back again.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Tristan says, folding his arms over his chest, his drink still clutched in a tight fist. ¡°We were just telling Marnye about that bet you made with


    Zack.¡± Tristan¡¯s face tightens up as he stares Lizzie down, and I have to wonder if he¡¯s doing this as much for revenge against her as he is to get rid of Zack. Maybe he¡¯s doing it for me, too, so I can finally know the truth, but it¡¯s hard to see it that way.


    Lizzie¡¯s amber gaze slides over to me, and her mouth opens but nothinges out.


    ¡°We were much younger then,¡± Zack whispers, rising to his feet. His voice is pleading, begging me to look at him. I do, but when our eyes meet, all I feel is sick. ¡°Marnye, what I did was wrong. It was ¡­ it was fucked. It was Lord of the Flies type shit.¡± He grits his teeth and nces away sharply. ¡°Hanging around with this club, with these people ¡­ they¡¯re fucking snakes.¡±


    ¡°Oh please,¡± Zayd snarls, squeezing me even closer. ¡°Don¡¯t act like we had anything to do with this. The three of us weren¡¯t even around when you originally made this bet.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zack snarls, taking a step forward. Tristan moves between us, like he thinks he might need to protect us from him. ¡°You might not have been here for that bet, but you¡¯ve been around for worse. This is not out of line with something you¡¯d do.¡±


    ¡°Just tell Marnye you used her to get into the Club, and that you only saved her because Lizzie changed her mind and said that was enough.¡± Creed stands up from his side of the table, his face lit with the same determination I saw when he attacked Derrick Barr over Miranda. Only this time, he¡¯s fighting for me. I¡¯m not sure whether to be happy about it ¡­ or, no


    ¡­ I¡¯m too sick to be happy.N?velDrama.Org content.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Lizzie begins, drawing my attention around to her. It urs to me then that she knew exactly who I was when she came to the party a few months ago. She looked across that room and she knew exactly what she¡¯d done to me. That was the ¡®connection¡¯ that she¡¯d felt between us. ¡°I really do like you, and I meant it when I said I wanted to be friends.¡±


    I stand up, but my knees almost give out, and Tristan grabs me around the waist to keep me from falling.


    ¡°Please,¡± Zack starts, but I¡¯m already shaking my head.


    ¡°I just ¡­¡± Tristan lets me go, and I manage to keep my feet, but my gaze keeps bouncing between Zack and Lizzie. I feel betrayed from both sides, from my past and from my future. Now it all makes sense, why Zack started


    picking on me for no reason. All for some stupid club. Years and years of pain ¡­


    It makes even more sense why he didn¡¯t want to tell anyone that we were dating back then. And Lizzie ¡­ I feel like my whole friendship with her is a sham.


    ¡°I just want to be left alone,¡± I blurt, pushing past them all and heading down the hallway. I end up in the bathroom with the door closed, and I turn the hot water on in the shower, climbing in and huddling underneath it with my hands over my ears.


    When someone knocks, I don¡¯t answer, I just sit there until the hot waters run cold and my teeth are chattering. Then I climb out, grab a towel, and step into the hallway where Zayd is waiting.


    He doesn¡¯t say anything, just leads me into one of the guest rooms and tucks me in the bed. He gets on top of the covers, curls around me and holds me there for the rest of the night.

 71

    Finding out that I was just a bet to Zack is ¡­ well, it¡¯s devastating. I¡¯m a zombie for weeks, going through the motions, focusing on my schoolwork and my harp. Nothing else matters. It hurts too much to think about what he did to me. What Lizzie did to me.


    And the Idols ¡­ they¡¯re still being nice to me, still acting like they want me, but ¡­ they had to know how much that revtion would hurt, right? Yet, they did it anyway.


    Still, it¡¯s hard to stay mad at them. Zayd is always charming, popping into my room at random times, flopping down on my bed and joining me for TV night without ever saying a word.


    My tutoring sessions with Creed are tense, but in a good way. That spark between us burns hot, whether we¡¯re doing math, or working on essays side by side. Every time he touches me, I can feel it, a rush of heat that infuses every molecule in my body.


    Tristan ¡­ he¡¯s a lot harder to get a read on. But he does sometimes sit in on my orchestra practice, watching me y the harp with those de gray eyes of his. I always y better when he¡¯s in the room, like just knowing that he¡¯s listening is a boon to my creativity.


    Miranda and Andrew definitely notice the change in my behavior, and call me out on it.


    ¡°Are you sure you know what you¡¯re doing?¡± Miranda asks as the three of us sit together in The Mess eating yet another meal I can¡¯t pronounce. It¡¯s


    good, it¡¯s just ¡­ in anguage I definitely don¡¯t speak. This week¡¯s menu is food from around the world. It¡¯s educational, at the very least.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I say as I pick at my food with my fork and then nce up to see the two of them staring at me skeptically. ¡°What? I¡¯m not doing anything but hanging out with them.¡± And wearing an eighty-thousand dor neFFe, and skinny dipping, and making out, and- ¡°The Idols don¡¯t just hang out,¡± Andrew says, sighing. ¡°They divide and they conquer. The fact that they¡¯ve all set their sights on you worries me. If you ask me, they¡¯re up to no good.¡± He exchanges a look with Miranda that I can¡¯t read, and the mystery of what they¡¯re up to together starts to get to me.


    So much so that the next time they try to sneak off together, I follow them.


    I don¡¯t intend on doing any true sleuthing, I don¡¯t have to. Just keeping a safe distance behind them as they walk through the rear courtyard and meet up with some friends in the trees is enough.


    The first thing I notice is that Miranda and her new girlfriend take off in one direction, while Andrew and his male friend go the other way.


    I decide to stick with Miranda.


    What I don¡¯t expect to see when I round the corner of the hedges is the two of them lip-locked, their arms around each other, fingers grasping. They¡¯re both panting, kissing like they can¡¯t get enough of each other, and it all clicks in the ce.


    Miranda isn¡¯t dating Tristan, and she¡¯s not dating Andrew either. Miranda is ¡­ gay.


    I turn away and take off before they notice me spying on them, but honestly, I feel a sense of relief. I was expecting the worst, like a hidden pregnancy or something, but this is ¡­ this isn¡¯t even noteworthy. In a good way, I mean. Like I said, I¡¯m a fierce LGBT ally.


    For the next few days, I keep things cool, normal. But now that I know, the way Miranda acts makes a whole lot more sense.


    Before I tell Creed, however, I decide to confront Tristan.


    ¡°You knew didn¡¯t you?¡± I ask him, nting my hands on my hips and staring down at him as he sits on one of the stone benches in the courtyard and scrolls on his phone. Tristan lifts his gray eyes up to mine, and I find myself licking my lower lip without even meaning to. One look from him and I melt.


    ¡°Oh? So you finally figured it out?¡± he asks me, scooting over and patting the spot next to him on the bench. If this was anyone else, that¡¯d be a


    harmless gesture, and I¡¯d just sit. But with Tristan, there¡¯s so much more to it. I¡¯m afraid to sit that close to him.


    ¡°Is there a reason you didn¡¯t want Creed to know?¡± I ask, cocking my head to one side. ¡°He thinks you and Miranda are sleeping together, you know that?¡± Tristan shrugs his shoulders, but his eyesnd on the ne that he gave me, and I reach up to touch it without thinking.


    ¡°No reason. It just wasn¡¯t any of my business.¡± He stands up, and takes a step forward, towering over me. His fingers reach up and brush along the side of my jaw, a smirk taking over his lips when I shudder. ¡°But it is yours. You and Creed had a bet.¡±


    Tristan cups my face and leans down. For a second there, I think he¡¯s going to kiss me again, but instead he just puts his lips right up against mine, so I can feel it when he talks.


    ¡°That girl she was making out with, that¡¯s Jessie Maker. Her parents are Evangelical Christians, they won¡¯t be happy with the news.¡± Tristan runs his tongue across my lower lip, and then steps back. The absence of his body makes me feel cold.


    ¡°Is this going to hurt either of them, me telling Creed?¡± I look into Tristan¡¯s eyes, but he just shrugs. I sigh, but it looks like I¡¯m going to be on my own with this one. It was my arrogance that got me into this mess after all. I should¡¯ve stopped ying poker after I¡¯d won the first round. Lesson learned.


    Tristan brushes past me, making sure his fingers linger on the back of my hand before he moves away.

 72

    I listen to his footsteps on the gravel path before I turn and head for Creed and Miranda¡¯s apartment.


    Fortunately, Creed¡¯s the only one that¡¯s home. He lets me in, and the spark between us res to life.


    ¡°You figured it out,¡± he guesses, his words vaguely echoing Tristan¡¯s.


    Creed crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me to talk.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I did,¡± I start, and then I don¡¯t know what to say. It seems so anti- climactic. Miranda being gay isn¡¯t a problem, and it shouldn¡¯t matter to anyone. Then again, I know Creed¡¯s just worried about what it is that she¡¯s hiding. Maybe, like me, he¡¯s expecting the worst. This should be a relief for him. ¡°Miranda is dating a girl named Jessie Maker,¡± I say, waiting to see what his reaction is going to be. The skin around his eyes tightens imperceptibly, but that¡¯s it.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± he asks, and I nod. Creed exhales and drops his arms by his side, and I¡¯m d to see that he¡¯s not upset. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to bother her about it, are you?¡± I ask, but he just stares at me and shrugs his shoulders. Oh, well, that¡¯s reassuring. I feel sick with guilt already, but when I think about viting the Infinity Club¡¯s rules ¡­ I know that was never an option.


    ¡°I just want to make sure she doesn¡¯t get hurt,¡± Creed says, and it¡¯s the most genuine thing he¡¯s ever said to me. There¡¯s a brief pause before he speaks again, changing the subject with effortless ease. ¡°Would you like to go to dinner with me?¡± he asks, and even though I know he just means to take me to The Mess, my heart warms and I nod.


    Everything seems fine ¡­ until next week when the shit hits the fan.


    I hear the fight before I see it, the sound of grunting, the painful crack of flesh against flesh. Miranda and I exchange a look, take off down the hallway, and turn the corner to find John Hannibal beating the ever living crap out of Andrew.


    ¡°Stop it!¡± Miranda screams, dropping her bookbag to the floor and leaping into the fray. I follow after her, but the boys are in such a frenzy, they just knock us to the side and continue fighting. There¡¯s quite a bit of blood, and when Tristan and Zayd appear to pull them apart, I can see that most of it belongs to Andrew.


    ¡°Come on man,¡± Gregory Van Horn says, stepping out of the crowd that¡¯s gathered to watch, ¡°let me have a turn at him.¡± It takes me a second to realize he doesn¡¯t mean John, he means Andrew.


    ¡°What the hell is going on here?¡± Miranda asks, spinning to look at her brother as hees around the corner. She searches his face desperately, but he doesn¡¯t say anything. It¡¯s John that speaks first.


    ¡°We heard Creed confronting Andrew about being a faggot,¡± he sneers, reaching up to wipe some blood from the corner of his mouth. I turn to look at Creed, my stomach tightening in knots, but he¡¯s already shaking his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s not even in the fucking realm of what I was doing. I wasn¡¯t confronting him. I just wanted to be sure he wasn¡¯t banging my sister.¡± Creed runs his fingers through his hair. ¡°I thought he was lying to me, so I followed him after our conversation. That¡¯s when I found him making out with Gary Jacobs.¡± Creed shrugs his shoulders. ¡°But whoever gave you the right to beat him up?¡± Creed¡¯s voice is as sharp as a whip, and he gives Tristan a run for the money in the asshole department. At least this time, he¡¯s using his asshole powers for good. ¡°There will be absolutely no homophobic bullshit on my watch.¡± His eyes briefly flick to his sister before he looks away again.


    ¡°Why would you confront him like that?¡± Miranda snaps, stepping up to her brother. Her eyes sparkle dangerously, and even though I¡¯m terrified, I know I have to tell her about my part in all of this. If I don¡¯t, then how am I any better than Lizzie or Zack? Just thinking about them makes me want to throw up again, so I push the thoughts aside and reach out for Miranda¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, looking her straight in the face. I haven¡¯t even said anything and she¡¯s backing away from me. Andrew watches us both carefully.


    ¡°You said something to him, didn¡¯t you?¡± she whispers, and then she turns and takes off down the hall at a run. I jog after her, but she¡¯s waiting for me when I turn the corner.


    ¡°You said something!¡± she shouts, and I cringe, clinging to the strap of my bookbag. My guilt is written all over my face; I can feel it.


    ¡°I followed you one day, and-¡± Miranda reaches out and ps me. I don¡¯t even stop her because I know I deserve it. Still, the exnation tumbles out of my mouth, and I¡¯m frustrated to hear it sound like an excuse. There are no excuses for what I¡¯ve done, getting Creed involved, and subsequently the entirety of the Bluebloods. ¡°I made a bet with Creed during poker-¡±


    She interrupts me again, and I let her.


    ¡°I warned you about that fucking Club!¡± she shouts, pacing the hall in front of me, raking her fingers through her hair. ¡°And I warned you about the Idols.¡± She stops and stares at me like she has no idea who I am anymore. ¡°I thought you were different, but when ites down to it, you¡¯re just like them.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± I choke out, already feeling the tears beginning to leak down my cheeks. ¡°Miranda, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You spied on me, and you spilled my secrets, and now look what¡¯s happened. Not everyone is as progressive as you, Marnye, and our secrets- mine and Andrew¡¯s-they were not yours to tell.¡± She sniffles and puts her face in her hands. When I reach out to touch her shoulder, she jerks away from and drops her arms to her sides, curling her fingers into tight fists. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me. And don¡¯t talk to me.¡±


    ¡°For how long?¡± I whisper, but I know I messed-up, and I can¡¯t expect her to give me a timeline on her forgiveness ¡­ if she even gives it at all.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe forever?¡± Miranda pushes past me and my shoulder ms into the wall. I turn and watch her go before Creed appears around the corner, his eyes dark with pain. His sister is the one and only person he seems to care about, and he¡¯s just upset her to the core-with my help.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye,¡± he says, moving over to me and putting his hands on my waist. The world sways around me, but his touch keeps me upright. ¡°I never meant for this to happen.¡± He leans down and brushes his lips to my forehead, and even though I know I shouldn¡¯t believe him, I do. Because I want to. ¡°Can Ie in?¡± I nod, and use my keys to unlock the door to my apartment. Creed slips in behind me, and I let him stay the night on my couch.

 73

    With Miranda, Andrew, Lizzie and Zack gone from my life, I¡¯m left with this hollow, cold feeling inside my chest. Spending time with Tristan, Zayd, and Creed helps, but ¡­ they¡¯re all vying for my romantic attention, and I want friends who are there just because, that want nothing from me.


    Since that¡¯s not exactly an option for me, I throw myself into my schoolwork, and then spend the rest of my time either practicing the harp, or hanging out with the boys. They let me sit with them in The Mess, at the high table in the front of the room.


    It kills Harper and Becky to see me there, but even though their looks are seething, I¡¯m almost always around at least one of the guys. Their presence acts as a shield, and keeps the bullying to a minimum.


    ¡°One day she¡¯s going to stalk me in a dark alley and cut my throat,¡± I say as Harper makes eye contact with me from across the dining room. The way she¡¯s handling her steak knife is disturbing, to say the least.


    ¡°She can get over it,¡± Tristan says, leaning back in his chair and watching her. He hunts her, like a wolf stalking a fox. The fox might think it¡¯s a predator, but only until the wolf¡¯s jaws mp down on its throat. If Tristan wanted to take Harper down, I think he could.


    ¡°Any word from Miranda?¡± I ask Creed, but the way he stiffens in his chair tells me all I need to know. She¡¯s not talking to him either. ¡°Do you think she¡¯lle around?¡± He sighs, closing his eyes on what¡¯s looking to be a major headache.


    ¡°Maybe, maybe not. It¡¯s hard to say with her. Our rtionship was already on a razor¡¯s edge. Unfortunately, I think you might go down with the ship.¡± He taps his fingers on the table, his food left untouched in front of him. We¡¯re all tired, I think, ready for a break from the social scene, from grades, from ¡­ whatever this is that¡¯s brewing between the four of us.


    ¡°So, about the graduation g,¡± Zayd begins, pushing his te away and leaning his elbows on the table. He steeples his hands together, green eyes sparking as he looks over at me. ¡°Have you given a thought as to who you might go with?¡±


    ¡°Nobody¡¯s asked me,¡± I respond crisply, but none of the boys has a reaction. Creed closes his eyes again, like he¡¯s about ready to take a nap, Tristan continues to re at Harper from across the room, and Zayd sits back with a smirk before reaching for a roll and some butter.


    Still, he wouldn¡¯t have brought it up if he didn¡¯t have something in mind. So at the very least, I might be ending year one at Burberry Prep friendless, but I¡¯ll have a date to the g.


    There¡¯s a minute amount offort in that.


    #


    When I open my door the next day, I find three boxes stacked neatly and wrapped with twine. There¡¯s a note on top that I slide carefully out from underneath the knot. When I open it, I recognize Tristan¡¯s handwriting.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Three prinFes want to take you to the ball, Cindere. Make your FhoiFe.¡±


    I frown as I collect the packages and carry them inside, opening the first one to a beautiful ck dress and a small piece of cardstock with Tristan¡¯s name on it. The second box has a blue dress with Creed¡¯s name. And the third is red with Zayd¡¯s name.


    My cheeks flush pink, and I feel suddenly dizzy with choice. Miranda¡¯s words echo in my head: How are you going to Fhoose?


    The question is: do I want to choose? I¡¯vee to like all three Idol boys, more than I ever thought possible. They¡¯re the only friends I have left, and more than that ¡­ I¡¯m starting to care about them in ways I¡¯ve only ever cared about one person. That was Zack, and he¡¯s gone now. I can never forgive him for turning me into a bet. I just can¡¯t.


    But this ¡­


    How the fuck do I choose? And what happens when I do? Will I lose the other two guys? Will they stop talking to me?


    Love is a cruel master.


    Err. Love? I¡¯m not in love with any of these guys. I quickly rece the tops on the boxes and set them in the corner to torment me. Every instinct in my body says I should go find Miranda or text Lizzie, but I¡¯ve been hurt so many times before, I don¡¯t know how to approach them; I need more time. Maybe summer break will be the healing balm we all need? A little sunshine, sleeping in toote, the Train Car and itsforting familiarity.


    Flicking the lights off, I climb into bed and I try not to think about the graduation g, and everything thates with it.


    Just two more weeks, and I¡¯ll have made it. I¡¯ll have survived my first year at Burberry Prep. And maybe, just maybe, I¡¯ll have a boyfriend to enjoy the summer with.


    #


    Finally, I think, sitting down on the edge of my bed and pushing loose strands of hair back from my face. I¡¯ve fought tooth-and-nail to make this year worth the pain, punching my way to the top of the first-year ss, snatching my spot in the orchestra. I even managed to make friends with the bullies who were making my life a living hell.


    Of course, I miss my friends. I miss Andrew and Miranda, Zack and Lizzie.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zayd says, smoking a cigarette with both the bathroom windows cracked. ¡°Don¡¯t look so sad. We have less than a week in this shithole, and then summer, bitches.¡± When he¡¯s done smoking, he drops his cigarette in the toilet, flushes it, andes over to sit beside me, pulling me close. I lean my head on his shoulder, but I¡¯ve got anxiety for a different reason.


    Tonight is thest dance of the year. It¡¯s called the graduation g, and it¡¯s for all four years of students here at Burberry Prep.

 74

    For me, it almost feels like a death sentence. Those three dresses ¡­ they¡¯re all so beautiful. I tried them on one at a time in front of the mirror, desperate for some sign from above that I was making the right choice.


    I got nothing.


    The universe has left mepletely and utterly on my own.


    ¡°You know,¡± Zayd starts, exhaling sharply. ¡°You should pick Creed or Tristan tonight.¡± My eyes snap up to his, and I see this broken indecision in his green eyes. He looks pained as he turns to me. ¡°Whichever one of those assholes you don¡¯t pick, they¡¯re going to get butt hurt and storm off. But,


    uh,¡± Zayd exhales and runs his fingers through his hair, ¡°I¡¯ll stick around. I don¡¯t care who you pick, Marnye.¡±


    A small smile teases over my lips as I fit my fingers through Zayd¡¯s. He seems surprised, that I¡¯m touching him that way.


    ¡°Liar,¡± I say, and I lean my head onto his shoulder. That¡¯s the first time he¡¯s ever called me Marnye. Seriously, first freaking time. And I love it. ¡°I¡¯ve already decided, Zayd.¡± And I have. I didst night. It wasn¡¯t easy. In fact, I still feel sick about it, but it alles down to the beginning of the year and the things they all did to me.


    Zayd was bad. Creed and Tristan were worse. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready to forgive the book burning or the essay reading. Also, Zayd was the first one to start being nice to me. It¡¯s that simple. I can¡¯t have all three guys, and I want to start something that mightst. With Tristan, his family would never allow him to date me, I know that. Creed wants to be epted into the ranks of old money. But Zayd ¡­ he might be a dick, and as elitist as the rest of them, but he¡¯s also a rock star. He walks his own path.


    ¡°Take me to the dance tonight?¡± I whisper, and Zayd¡¯s entire body goes stiff before he turns to look at me, reaching down to cup my face between his inked hands. He grins as he pulls my mouth to his, kissing me with a passion that I wish I could recreate every day for the rest of my life.


    I mean, we¡¯re nowhere near that yet, but ¡­ maybe we could get there? ¡°It¡¯d be my fucking honor,¡± he purrs, dragging me down to the bed and


    kissing me like he intends to help me keep that promise. Iugh and let him hold me in his arms until it¡¯s time to get dressed.


    And then I kick his ass out into the hallway to wait. It¡¯s time to get ready for the ball.


    #


    The dress Zayd picked out for me is bright red andyered with a tight underdress coupled with flowing skirts, and ace-up back. It¡¯s nearly impossible to get into by myself, so I do my hair and makeup as best I can, and then text him, asking him to meet me at my door instead of by the chapel like we¡¯d nned.


    Tristan and Creed don¡¯t know that I¡¯ve picked Zayd, not yet. Not unless he told them. But as soon as they see me walk in wearing this dress, it¡¯s all over. There¡¯s a fragile nervousness inside of me, this quaking that I don¡¯t quite understand. Maybe I realize that when they see me with him, this tentative thing between the four of us is over.


    I¡¯ve chosen Zayd. It¡¯s done.


    He knocks on my door, and I pull it open with my nerves on high-alert, butterflies filling my stomach. Zayd is ¡­ holy shit, he¡¯s handsome. He¡¯s wearing a ck and white pinstripe suit with a red tie, red dress shoes, and


    ¡­ he¡¯s even dyed his hair to match my dress. His signature sage-and- geranium smell fills my nostrils as my lips curve into a smile, and I step back to let him in.


    ¡°You dyed your hair for me,¡± I whisper, and he shrugs, like it¡¯s no big deal. But then his grin spreads from one side of his face to the other.


    ¡°Yeah, well.¡± He notices the looseces hanging off my dress and spins me around by the shoulders, yanking them tight and breathing sensually across the back of my neck. When he pulls theces taut, I get a jittery feeling inside my chest. It actually feels good, having him bind me into the outfit. ¡°Green and red is too, I dunno, Christmas-y. And I knew as soon as I saw that dress that it was yours. Therefore, it only made sense to change my hair.¡±


    ¡°You have an interesting way of looking at the world, you know that?¡± I tell him as he turns me back around and tugs me into his arms. I let him pull me close, enjoying the sensation of his tattooed body pressed up against mine. If I¡¯m going to lose Tristan and Creed, I have to enjoy Zayd to the fullest extent. ¡°Shall we go?¡±


    He nods, brushing some hair back from my forehead, and then takes my arm to lead me into the hall. We make our way past the chapel, and into the ballroom on the second floor, the one with a balcony that overlooks the woods.


    It¡¯s already packed with people, girls in glittering dresses, guys in tuxedos, as well as parents and chaperones galore.


    The moment I walk in, the room goes quiet. Zayd pretends not to notice, taking my hand and leading me down the steps like I¡¯m Cindere or something. As I descend them in the red dress, I spot both Creed and Tristan, standing on opposite sides of the room.


    Their stares are so intense, I swear, I can feel them.


    Creed¡¯s blue eyes sh with pain and frustration before he turns away and stalks off into the crowd, heading straight for the balcony. He doesn¡¯t even wait to talk to me or hear me try to exin. He¡¯s just ¡­ gone. Tristan, on the other hand, waits at the bottom of the steps for us.


    When we get close to him, the roomes back to life, and everyone starts talking again.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± he says, voice tight and clipped. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got yourself a groupie, Zayd.¡± I purse my lips and lean into my date. He howls withughter, but I don¡¯t think Tristan¡¯s statement is particrly funny.


    ¡°What, now I¡¯m not the Working Girl? I¡¯m a groupie this time?¡± Tristan¡¯s eyes are the color of storms as he stares me down, lips pursed, hands white- knuckled and curled into fists. He doesn¡¯t like to lose, this man. That scares me a little. When he doesn¡¯t answer, I sigh. ¡°We¡¯re still friends, right?¡±


    He cocks a brow at that.


    ¡°Friends?¡± There¡¯s a long pause as Tristan lifts his gaze to Zayd, and the two of them share a silent exchange that I can¡¯t quite interpret. ¡°Sure.¡± He takes a sudden step back, turns, and then heads in Harper¡¯s direction. My stomach tightens as I think he¡¯s going to her, rxing only when he sweeps past and follows Creed to the balcony.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zayd whispers, leaning down and nibbling my ear, ¡°you want to grab something to eat?¡±


    I nod, and he leads us through the throng toward the refreshments. It doesn¡¯t matter if there¡¯s one Idol or all three of them together, the crowd parts just as easily. He gets us each a drink and a te of food, clearing a space at one of the high tables nearby and pulling out a stool for me.


    Miranda is dancing with Andrew not too far from us, but she never looks at me, not even a cursory nce. My hands tighten in the folds of my skirt, but I don¡¯t even consider going over to talk to her, not tonight. I don¡¯t want to ruin her fun or make a scene. Instead, I focus my attention on Zayd. Once I¡¯ve got him talking about his summer tour with Afterglow, he doesn¡¯t want to stop, even hints at possibly inviting me.


    I can¡¯t even imagine that, going on tour with a rock band.


    After we¡¯re done eating, Zayd holds his hand out to me and raises one, dark brow. His freshly dyed hair shimmers red in the flickering light. The chandeliers in here are all original to the building, refitted to burn gas, so that they retain some of their true character.


    ¡°Dance with me, Working Girl,¡± he purrs, and then he sweeps me out onto the dance floor, using that magic of his to turn my awkward, fumbling dance moves into something beautiful. As we sway, Zayd reaches out and cups the side of my face with his hand. There¡¯s a bit of regret in his eyes that I can¡¯t figure out, but after a few songs, it resolves itself, and I forget all about it.


    That¡¯s my mistake, my huge fucking mistake.

 75

    The next morning, I dress in my uniform, but I add the redcy bra and panties that Zayd likes underneath. After the ceremony today, we¡¯re going to one of the after parties to celebrate, and ¡­ I don¡¯t know what might happen between us, but I at least want to be dressed for second base.


    My bags are packed and left near the door to my room, ready for Dad to pick up after my harp solo. He¡¯s going to take them with him when he heads home, and I¡¯m going to leave with Zayd. Tomorrow, he¡¯ll drive me home. How, exactly, I¡¯m going to exin to my dad that I want to go spend the night with Zayd and a bunch of other horny teenagers is beyond me, but I¡¯m going to try. I worked too hard this year to miss out on the party to end all parties.


    Besides, I managed to finish top of the first year ss. Take that, Tristan! I think, but the smug smile on my face fades when I remember the angry expression on hisst night. The way he looked at me, I felt like I¡¯d torn his heart out and crushed it under my heel. Touching my hand to my stomach, I close my eyes and try not to think about him or Creed. I can¡¯t have three boyfriends. Nobody does. Besides, even if I were to try some sort of open rtionship thing, I¡¯d have to be okay with them dating other girls, and I¡¯m not. I¡¯m not at all okay with that.


    In my heart, I don¡¯t know if I made the right choice. I feel torn, split, confused.


    But I made my choice, and Zayd is not a constion prize. I won¡¯t treat him as such.


    Checking my hair and makeup onest time, I make my way outside to where Zayd¡¯s waiting for me. He¡¯s not smiling when I first see him, but when Iy my fingers on his arm, he turns to me and shes a grin.


    ¡°I was wondering where you were,¡± he says, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. He weaves his tattooed fingers through mine and guides me through the winding garden paths and down to the indoor amphitheater where the ceremony¡¯s being held. There¡¯s a different ceremony for every year, just a series of des and performances to showcase the aplishments of the students.


    We head inside and move down the aisle, past the family members seated on other side.


    I spot my dad right away. What I don¡¯t expect is to see Jennifer sitting beside him.


    My feet stop moving of their own ord, and Zaydes to a halt, ncing back at me with his brows raised in a questioning manner.


    ¡°You okay, Charity?¡± I shake my head, but I¡¯m having trouble finding the words to exin. I¡¯ve spent a lot of time with Zayd over the past year, but we¡¯ve never delved into deeper issues. I¡¯ve barely mentioned my mother.


    ¡°It¡¯s just ¡­ my mom¡¯s here,¡± I whisper, and Zayd follows my eyes, locating her in the crowd. She looks ridiculous, dressed up in a white fur coat with a hat, like an extra from a made-for-TV movie. With a sigh, I grab Zayd¡¯s hand and pull him down the aisle, pretending I don¡¯t notice her. She waves at me, but I just hope nobody I know sees.


    ¡°You¡¯re not cool with your mom?¡± Zayd asks, but his tone is detached, far away. He¡¯s in another ce and another time. Or maybe he¡¯s just tired? We danced until two in the morningst night, and then made out for another hour after that. I have to say, thatst hour was my favorite part.


    ¡°It¡¯splicated,¡± I exin as we take our seats in the front row. Tristan is right next to me, his mouth pressed into a t line, his skin pale. I knew he was upsetst night, but the look on his face now is in a whole other league. Maybe he¡¯s upset because he¡¯s second ce to my first? I have no idea.


    The ceremony starts, and the teachers take turns making speeches, praising our aplishments, gently reminding us where we can do better. Awards are given out for sports, clubs, andmunity service first, lines of


    students filing onstage to collect their paper certificates. A huge screen behind them showcases the same awards in digital format.


    Academics arest, and when Tristan¡¯s name is called, he grinds his teeth so hard that I¡¯m afraid one¡¯s going to pop right out. He practically storms onstage, bites off a pathetic thank you, and then heads right back to his spot. Across the aisle, I can feel Creed watching me, so I make sure that when I¡¯m called, my chin is high, and my shoulders are back.


    My speech is short, but not overly so, and I recite it without even having to read what I wrote. I make eye contact with Dad, Mrs. Amberton, Ms. Felton, anyone but my mother. At the end, she stands up to p, but I turn away and head back to my seat before I have to see much more of that.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    She can¡¯t just abandon me, and then hop back into my life when it¡¯s convenient. No way, not happening.


    After the initial ceremony, the choir and orchestra are herded backstage to get ready for our performances.


    Zayd kisses me goodbye on the cheek, and then returns to his seat in the audience.


    That¡¯s when I first run into trouble.


    Harper, Becky, Valentina, Abigail, and a handful of other girls are waiting for me when I head up the steps that lead backstage. Right away, I look around for backup, either one of the boys or a teacher, anyone. But it¡¯s just us.


    ¡°We¡¯ve tried to be patient with you,¡± Harper says, stepping forward. Her makeup and hair are wless, but the sneer on her perfect lips ruins the practiced pretty she¡¯s trying so hard for. ¡°We gave you a whole year to figure it out, but I guess you¡¯re just too damn stupid.¡±

 76

    ¡°Figure what out?¡± I ask, but they¡¯re not here to talk. This time, they don¡¯t just verbally assault me. Two girlse up from behind and grab me by the arms while Harper steps forward and backhands me across the face as hard as she can. I taste blood in my mouth, and I see stars as I look back at her. She grins and moves aside for Becky who¡¯s so gung-ho for violence that she¡¯s practically drooling. She hits me closed-fist in the stomach, and I double over, held up only by the girls on either arm. I¡¯m struggling, kicking and iling as hard as I can, but I¡¯m not going anywhere. When I do finally break one arm free, there are two more girls toe and help pin it back.


    They take turns hitting me until I¡¯m so dizzy and out of breath that when they let go, I fall to my knees. The beating doesn¡¯t stop there. They kick me,


    pull my hair, tear the seams from my blouse. The girls keep at it until a round of apuse sounds from the stage. That¡¯s their cue to step back and leave me there, panting and bleeding on the floor.


    For several minutes, nobodyes, so I force myself up and stumble to the nearest bathroom, using a wad of paper towels from the dispenser to clean myself up as best as I can. I¡¯m panting, soaked in sweat, and ready to cry, but the pain is ¡­ it¡¯s damn near unbearable. My first thought is that maybe I should go find someone and report this, but then I remember my dad, and the harp, and my first solo ¡­


    No. After.


    After I y, I¡¯ll deal with this. They can¡¯t take that away from me.


    Marnye, you¡¯re in shoFk. I realize that, but it doesn¡¯t stop me from doing what I¡¯m doing.


    So I ssh my face with cold water, clean up as much blood as I can, and then button my jacket over my torn blouse. By the time I make it backstage, Harper¡¯s finishing up a piano solo, and bowing gracefully, no sign of the violence she just inflicted anywhere on her face or hands. Her eyes widen as she passes by me, but by then the harp is already being wheeled out, and I¡¯m announced to the stage by Ms. Felton.


    A deep hushes over the room when I walk out, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s because of the beating I just took. I cleaned up most of the blood, and the majority of the bruises won¡¯t show untilter. Maybe the room is just silent because everyone knows who I am, the schrship winner, the charity case.


    I sit down at the harp and close my eyes. My hands are shaking, and my body¡¯s gone numb with shock. Later, I¡¯m going to be hurting pretty badly. For right now, I¡¯m okay. My love for music covers up any jitters I might have, and I throw myself into my performance, ying the best I¡¯ve ever yed. My eyes find Dad¡¯s briefly, then Mom¡¯s.


    Most important, I seek out Miranda, but she won¡¯t look at me. The guys are next: Creed then Tristan then Zayd.


    They¡¯re all watching me.


    I¡¯ve just finished one song and started on the next when I start to hear whispers andughter, people pointing. I pause briefly and nce behind me to see that the giant screen hase down again, the one that showcased the student awards. It flickers and thenes tough, and my jaw drops openProperty ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    as I see myself, my naked ass in Tristan¡¯s hands in the library. The video is shaky, and clearly taken from the other side of the bookcase, but it¡¯s distinctly me, and distinctly him.


    I want to fucking die.


    This Fannot be happening, I think, hating that my dad is in that audience.


    Worse, my mom.


    I stand up, but the video doesn¡¯t stop there. Images of me pressed against Creed in the bathroom pop up, even my make out session with Zayd fromst night is there.


    ¡°No,¡± I whisper, but I hardly get the chance to move before I feel the first drops of liquid on my head. I look up just in time for a can of red paint to spatter on my hair and clothes, sshing across the harp and the screen. I¡¯ve just had a Carrie pulled on me.


    My mind quite literally goes nk, and I fall to my knees without even realizing it.


    Zayd stands up in the audience, but he doesn¡¯t move to help me. Creed follows next, then Tristan. At a nod from thetter, the Idols and a good dozen other boys, all pull out pairs of panties from their pockets.


    My panties. The ones that were stolen from my room.


    They¡¯re all thrown at me, littering the stage as the audience fades into a roaring silence.


    Dad stands up, but I can¡¯t bear to look at him. My heart is pounding, my mind is racing, and then I¡¯m just scrambling to my feet and taking off. I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going, but when I blink, I end up back at my room.


    One of the staff is there, my overnight bag in hand, as they lock up the door and then turn, getting ready to deliver it to the office for me to pick upter. I don¡¯t even think, I just run by and grab it, stumbling as I head outside to the courtyard and the front steps.


    I only make it down the first few before I¡¯m surrounded, by Bluebloods and Plebs alike.


    Tristan Vanderbilt is front and center, with Creed on one side and Zayd on the other.


    My heart breaks, cuts me up, reforms.


    The hardest hearts are forged in fire; I¡¯ll need to be made of steel to survive this one.


    ¡°Hello Charity,¡± Tristan says, taking a few steps forward. He¡¯s got a trophy in his hand, a gold one with a white marble base. ¡°Do you know what


    this is?¡± I don¡¯t say anything, not a word. He moves even closer, his gray eyes sparkling with the thrill of the hunt. The way he looked at Harper in The Mess the other day is the way he¡¯s looking at me now, like I¡¯m prey. ¡°This is a trophy.¡± Tristan turns and hands it over to Zayd.

 77

    He takes it in his tattooed fingers, and then meets my eyes. There¡¯s nothing there, none of the fun-loving, yful asshole I hung out with on spring break or danced withst night. He¡¯s just ¡­ nk.


    Kind of like my emotions.


    Inside my head, it¡¯s all white noise. Marnye Reed isn¡¯t even here anymore; she¡¯s checked outpletely.


    ¡°Do you want to know what it¡¯s for?¡± Creed drawls, tucking his fingers into his pockets. His blue eyes are half-lidded and focused on me as I stand there, dripping and shaking.


    Zack¡¯s words echo in my mind: You might not have been here for that bet, but you¡¯ve been around for worse. This is not out of line with something you¡¯d do.


    Something they¡¯d do. Make a bet.


    ¡°We wanted to see who could make you fall in love first,¡± Zayd supplies, hefting the trophy in his hand. He looks up at me and then drops it by his side. ¡°Whoever got you to the graduation g was the winner. Honestly, I thought it¡¯d be a bit harder than that.¡±


    I open my mouth to speak, but no words wille out. There¡¯s nothing to say, is there?


    ¡°And you know what?¡± Tristan continues, cocking his head to one side. ¡°The only prize ¡­ was that trophy. We did it for fun.¡±


    My uniform-and my dignity-are in tatters.


    I can still taste blood in my mouth, this hot copper tang that makes me want to gag.


    Tristan¡¯s silver gaze is narrowed on me, and his mouth is just beginning to curve up into a smirk. He thinks he¡¯s won, that he¡¯s beaten me. Every single person in this crowd wholeheartedly believes that; I can read it on every single face here. They tricked me, lulled me intocency, and then set out to destroy me.


    But they¡¯re dead-wrong. Dead-fucking-wrong. I¡¯m not the same girl I was when I first started at the academy.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    I lift an arm up and wipe some of the blood from my mouth, still smarting from the beating the Idol girls and their goons gave me. Mycy red bra, the one I picked out just for Zayd, is showing through the torn fabric of my white blouse. He won that bet, fair and square. He made me think he cared about me. I did care about him. The look on his face now is almost alien, foreign, like looking at a stranger. For once, he isn¡¯t smiling, but the message in his face is clear: you don¡¯t belong here.


    ¡°Had enough yet?¡± Harper du Pont asks, her dark presence like a cloud behind me. There¡¯s no point in turning to look at her, not when she matters so little to me. She¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s the guys, the Idols, the three people at this school that made my heart hurt, brought the sleeping emotions inside of me to roaring, vibrant life. Creed is frowning, but he has a very matter-of-fact expression on his handsome face, like this was all in the cards from the beginning.


    A breeze tears through the courtyard, blowing the ragged pleats of my skirt around my thighs. Beyond the walls of Burberry Prep, the sea sings its mncholy song, the same song picked up in the irregr beat of my damaged heart.


    Tristan moves toward me, slow and cool, with the hint of violence tainting the air around him. I try not to think of that first day, when he presented me with this challenge: how long do you think you¡¯llst? Joke¡¯s on him: I made it the whole damn year. But based on his expression, I can see he doesn¡¯t expect me back for a second round.


    My heart stutters as he reaches out and tangles some of my paint- sttered hair around his long fingers, giving the short rose gold locks a tug. The paint smears across his skin like blood as we stare each other down.


    ¡°I take it you won¡¯t being back next year, will you, Marnye?¡± Even after everything I¡¯ve just been through, I can¡¯t stop a shiver from racing through me at the sound of his voice. He thinks he¡¯s the king here, but so does Zayd, so does Creed. One day, they¡¯re going to have it out and it¡¯s not going to be pretty. They¡¯ll destroy each other.


    Their money can¡¯t buy them true friendship, and it won¡¯t buy them love. It definitely won¡¯t buy them me.


    My gaze moves past Tristan, to Zayd and Creed, but Tristan¡¯s standing so close that I can¡¯t help but look back at him. Has he enjoyed it this whole time, tormenting me? It¡¯s clear in his face that he has. He loves it. They all do.


    ¡°Just go home, Marnye, and it¡¯ll all be over,¡± Tristan says, and even though his voice is soft, it¡¯s a deception. There¡¯s a razor¡¯s edge to his words, one that promises to cut if I don¡¯t heed its warning. On the inside, I¡¯m breaking apart, but there¡¯s some stubborn bit of steel inside of me that won¡¯t let me crumble. ¡°You don¡¯t belong here.¡±


    Zayd slides one of his inked arms around Becky tter, and my stomach twists into a knot. I feel so sick I could throw up, but I won¡¯t, not here in front of them. Maybe when I get home, I¡¯ll let myself cry, let myself mourn, but not here. Never here. My hands curl into fists, and I grit my teeth.


    Tristan meets my gaze one,st time, and then reaches out to pluck a tear from my cheek, bringing it to his lips for a lick, reveling in the taste of my pain. The knife of his betrayal cut close, but it didn¡¯t hit its target. I might be bleeding, but I¡¯m not dead, not yet.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already enrolled in my sses.¡±


    The courtyard is silent, watching this moment unfold in all its horrible glory.


    There¡¯s not a person there that expects me to stand up for myself, to raise my chin in defiance. No, they thought I would crumble. Maybe they hoped that, like the girl in my essay, I¡¯d run away and internalize my pain.


    Not anymore.


    All of this pain has changed me. Right now, it feels like it¡¯s changed me for the worst, cracked me in half and spit out broken pieces. But really, I¡¯ve changed for the better. Their cruelty has shaped me into an immovable mountain, a force to stand against howling winds.


    ¡°Come September, I¡¯ll be the first in line for orientation.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Tristan is furious with me, but he¡¯s triumphant, too. He still believes he¡¯s won, his dark hair fluttering in the wind. He¡¯s gorgeous, but only on the outside. On the inside, he¡¯s a monster. They all are. ¡°I¡¯ll make your life a living hell.¡±


    ¡°You can try.¡± My shaking hand reaches into my pocket and pulls out the registration form. I printed it out at the libraryst week after I filled out the online form to sign up for sses. If it kills me, I¡¯ll be back at Burberry Prep next year. This is my life, not theirs. I won¡¯t let them ruin it. ¡°Because what you don¡¯t know ¡­¡± Sucking in a sharp breath, I bend down and grab the handle on my ratty, old duffle bag. Tristan is scowling at me, but he¡¯s already done his worst, wormed his way into my heart and tried to break me. What else is there? ¡°Is that my life outside of these walls was already a living hell.


    This is just another level of Dante¡¯s inferno, and I¡¯m not afraid-not of any of you.¡±


    My eyes meet Creed¡¯s, and then Zayd¡¯s, and then my feet start to move, taking me around Tristan and down the steps, toward the school gates and three months of freedom.


    At thest minute, his hand curls around my arm and jerks me back. I look down at it, and then up at him. His smile ¡­ it¡¯s painfully wicked.


    ¡°Challenge epted.¡± Tristan releases me with a small shove, but I don¡¯t stumble or fall. Instead, I head down the path toward the waiting line of academy cars, still dressed in my torn uniform, but with my chin up and my fears pushed back.


    Challenge epted is right.


    I¡¯m going toe back, and I¡¯m going to give these assholes a taste of their own medicine. The girl these boys met on day one is not the same girl leaving now.


    No matter what it takes, I¡¯ll make sure they know that.


    I¡¯ll stay one step ahead, and I¡¯ll show them what happens when someone ys them at their own gam


    e.


    The first few weeks of summer are hot and ufortable. The Train Car doesn¡¯t have air conditioning, and even though I have money in that ount Tristan set up for me, thest thing I feel like doing is using it.


    He betrayed me. Creed betrayed me. Zayd did


    They systematically cut me off from Lizzie, from Miranda and Andrew, from Zack.


    They humiliated me in front of my parents, and destroyed me in front of the entire school.


    They made a bet ¡­ and it worked. I was falling for them. Now I¡¯ve fallen so hard that I¡¯m not sure I can get up. For several days, all I do is lie facedown on my bed and cry, huge wracking sobs that drum up old memories of feeling lost and unwanted. But this time, the darkness doesn¡¯t call to me. I don¡¯t even consider it.


    This time, when the tears dry up and my emotions have fizzled out, only one thing remains.


    Revenge.


    It burns like a distant star inside of me, white-hot and far away, but when I reach for it, it glows brighter.


    Grabbing Miranda¡¯s list from the beginning of the year and a red Sharpie from inside my nightstand, I sit on the edge of my bed, and I make some changes to it.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye Reed


    The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one


    two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)


    The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), BeFky tter (year one


    two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated)


    The Inner CirFle: Andrew Payson, Anna KirkpatriFk, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner ¡­ and, I guess, me!


    Plebs: everyone else, sorry. XOXO


    Zack Brooks


    I put the cap on the pen and set it aside, exhaling as I stare down at my list. I¡¯m not going to be chased away from a bright future by a bunch of bullies, not even by bullies I was starting to fall for. No way. So I dry my tears, fold the list up, and put it inside my bookbag for next year.


    As soon as the summer is over, I¡¯m going to go back to Burberry Prep, stronger than ever.


    The hardest hearts are forged in fire; the weakest bend under their will. And revenge ¡­ is wicked sweet.


    To Be Continued ¡­

 78

    Break the rich boys. It¡¯s tricky, but doable.


    Jerks like them don¡¯t deserve to rule Burberry Prep.


    No, Tristan, Zayd, and Creed are going to pay, and I n to make an example of them.


    Then there¡¯s Zack, the varsity football d*ck. Oh, and did I mention a prince just transferred to the academy? Whatever will I do with those two?


    Revenge is wicked sweet; I can¡¯t wait for a taste.


    ***


    Defend ourselves against the charity case.


    We¡¯re the Idols of the school, the kings of the campus.


    Marnye Elizabeth Reed.


    That girl is nothing like the ones we¡¯re used to. We just can¡¯t decide if we hate her ¡­ or love her.


    She mighte from nothing, but she sure is determined to stir up something at the academy.


    She says she¡¯ll meet our challenge dead-on; we¡¯ll make sure


    she regrets that.


    There are mes dancing across the water.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    How that happened, I have no idea. I clutch my fingers to my chest, heart pounding. I almost lost my ability to make musiF with the harp ¡­ forever. This thing with the Idol girls is so much more than just a nasty case of bullying. Everything to do with the Infinity Club is so much darker and more involved than I first thought.


    Tristan grits his teeth, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The way he looks at Harper du Pont is terrifying. If I were her, I would leave. Now. But she doesn¡¯t. Instead, she flicks that blue gaze of hers to the right, checking to make sure her cronies are in tow before sheunches another attack.


    ¡°Whatever you¡¯re thinking about doing right now,¡± Tristan says, his voice as smooth as silk, ¡°don¡¯t.¡± His tone hardens on thatst syble, a perfect match to the rage in his face. They saved me, I think, ncing from Tristan to Zayd¡¯s bloody lip to Creed with his arm around Miranda. Zack is standing on the opposite side of the boat, behind Harper and her new friends.


    ¡°If you do this,¡± Harper says, taking a step forward, her short brown hair billowing in the breeze. It makes me feel good to see it cut like that. Don¡¯t dish it if you Fan¡¯t take it. I take a step back and bump into Zayd. He puts an arm around me, and all these strange feelings flood over me. My mind changes with each beat of my heart. Please don¡¯t touFh me; touFh me more; get away from me; kiss me until I see stars. ¡°Then you¡¯re giving up control of the school. You¡¯re Plebs, all of you.¡±


    Abigail Fanning and Valentina Pitt nk Harper as she steps forward, the chair they¡¯d tied me to dividing the space between us. I try to look past them to see Zack, and I notice that he¡¯s bleeding, too, but much worse than Zayd.


    ¡°If you think we¡¯ll fold that easy,¡± Creed begins as bored as always, but when I nce over at him, his blue eyes meet mine, and a strange spark passes between us. He¡¯s shaking, too, but he tries to hide it as he pushes a lock of white-blond hair from his face. ¡°Then you clearly haven¡¯t been paying attention. We¡¯ll destroy you.¡±


    Harper¡¯s mouth is so wicked when it curves up in a smirk, and the reflection of the mes in her eyes mirrors the hate in her heart. Most of the Inner Circle is standing with her, her new girlfriends, and the three boys she¡¯s handpicked to take Tristan¡¯s, Zayd¡¯s, and Creed¡¯s spots as Idols.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll break up the greatest collection of Bluebloods in the history of Burberry Prep for somemoner? We¡¯re the future rulers of the world. People live and die based on the decisions our families make. Tristan, I¡¯m your fianFee.¡± Harper takes another step forward, and then pauses as thedder on her right creaks and sways.


    Windsor York, the screw in the cogs of this machine, appears, his mouth twisted in a wry little smirk.


    ¡°Well, bloody hell,¡± he curses, pulling himself over the edge and then standing up. He brushes his palms down the front of his white second-year uniform. His hazel eyes glitter as he takes in Harper, the chair, me. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m a bitte to the party.¡±


    He walks over to stand in front of Zayd, reaching out a hand for me. The mes catch on his red hair, bathing it in orange light. I reach out to touch him, but Zayd pulls me back. Windsor raises an eyebrow and sighs.


    ¡°Yeah, wayte, asshole,¡± Zayd snaps, but I elbow him and step away from his embrace, wrapping my arms around myself and keeping my own space. I need to stand on my own; I can¡¯t trust anyone. Not anymore. ¡°If we hadn¡¯t gotten here when we did ¡­¡± His voice trails off, but he has to know that Windsor¡¯s on my side. He has been since moment one.


    Turning, the prince gives Harper¡¯s group a skeptical sort of look.


    ¡°I disabled the motor on your friends¡¯ boat,¡± he says, his English ent crisp and charming. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll be showing up tonight.¡± Harper¡¯s face, already colored red-orange by the fire, looks like a ripe tomato now. She¡¯s furious. ¡°And I¡¯m notte.¡± He rolls his eyes and shes me a wink and a smile. I almost smile back. Almost. I¡¯m too confused right


    now. ¡°I saw Zack on his way up here, with these idiots trailing behind.¡± He gestures with his thumb in the direction of the Idol boys, and Tristan growls at him. Almost quite literally. ¡°My time was better spent elsewhere. Oh.¡± Windsor snaps his fingers and then reaches down to pull up the edge of his shirt.


    There¡¯s a tattoo there, an infinity tattoo.


    Everyone goes silent as Windsor drops his shirt and sighs.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been resisting the Club for a long, long time, but Marnye needs someone on the inside to watch her back, so ¡­ here I am!¡± He raises his arms up in the air for emphasis, and then drops them by his sides. ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m an awful, dirty fucking wanker. I don¡¯t have a trust fund, or parents breathing down my neck that control my purse strings: I have nine billion in personal assets to y with.¡± Windsor pauses, crossing one arm over his chest and resting the elbow of the other in his palm. ¡°Well, twelve billion in US dors, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m threatened by you?¡± Harper chokes out with augh. ¡°Some tenth-string prince from a country nobody even knows about?¡±


    ¡°Ennd?¡± Windsor asks, his voice colored with wry humor. ¡°You do understand where the pilgrims came from, right?¡±


    Harper turns from him to Tristan, clearly realizing that there¡¯s no making headway with Windsor York. He just does what he wants, the rest of the world be damned.


    ¡°Last chance, Tristan,¡± she says, and when I see him unleash a whiplike smirk, I know he¡¯s not going back.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to wish you¡¯d never met me,¡± Tristan says, his voice like steel. He watches as Zack moves around behind the pack of Bluebloods to stand beside me. There¡¯s blood running down the side of his face, and I decide that as soon as we get out of here, he¡¯s going to a doctor. His dark eyes catch on mine, and I shiver. If he hadn¡¯t taken on Greg and John for me


    ¡­


    ¡°Consider that goal aplished,¡± Harper screeches, tearing the ring from her finger and throwing it at Tristan. He catches it, perfectly, one- handed. My heart skips several beats as he turns to me, silver eyes shing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯ve got one of Dad¡¯s yachts.¡± He moves over to stand in front of me, reaches down, and cups the side of my face. Zayd, Creed, and Zack all stiffen up. Windsor chuckles, this light, airy sound that echoes across theke. Tristan reaches up to cup the side of my face, runs his thumb along my


    lower lip, and then sneers at Windsor. While he¡¯s turned away, I pull back, putting distance between myself and the guys.


    Miranda meets my eyes, and there¡¯s this interesting dichotomy in hers: half fear, half envy.


    She moves toward me, away from Creed¡¯s arms, and his jaw tightens as Miranda puts her lips near my ear.


    ¡°Which one?¡± she whispers, flicking her gaze at the five boys on the boat. Harper and her cronies are leaving, slowly, but there¡¯s venom on both sides. Next year ¡­ there¡¯s going to be a war.


    Before I get a chance to answer her, Tristan gets up in Windsor¡¯s face. ¡°You, go home to Ennd and fuck off; we don¡¯t need you here.¡±


    ¡°And who, precisely, is we?¡± Windsor asks, leveling his hazel eyes on me. They reflect back the dancing mes as he smiles and cocks a single dark brow. Tristan looks between the two of us and scowls, standing up tall and straightening out his wool coat. ¡°As far as I can see it, Marnye very much needs me.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± Tristan snaps, lifting his chin. Despite the inner fighting amongst the Idol boys for the throne ¡­ I think Tristan Vanderbilt still holds the crown. He¡¯s a powerful enemy, and a potential ally. But can I trust him?


    Doubtful.


    ¡°Because,¡± Windsor says, blinking innocently and holding a hand out to indicate me, ¡°we¡¯re dating.¡±


    Zayd curses under his breath, Creed sneers, and Zack frowns.


    Tristan says nothing, looking down at me with storm-gray eyes. And then he turns, walks away, and pauses at the edge of the boat. Harper du Pont is standing there waiting. She meets Tristan¡¯s eyes first and then flicks her gaze over to mine.


    ¡°Enjoy the summer, Marnye. It¡¯s going to be yourst.¡± She turns, disappears down thedder, and soon we hear the sound of a boat engine being started.


    ¡°Did she just threaten my life?¡± I wonder aloud, but nobody says anything. School is out, summer has started, and in the morning, we¡¯re all going home. I¡¯ll go back to Cruz Bay and my Dad while the boys go ¡­ wherever it is that they go.


    For now, it¡¯s all on hold.


    Come September, all gloves are off.


    ¡°Come on, Marnye, I¡¯ve got a boat, too,¡± Miranda says, taking my hand and leading me away from the boys. I don¡¯t look at any of them as I walk away, past Tristan, and down thedder.


    Second year at Burberry Preparatory Academy w


    as tough. Third year¡¯s going to be a nightmare.

 79

    Thest person I expect to see on my doorstep is Zack Brooks.


    My mouth drops open in surprise, and I m the door closed on him. He reaches up with his palm and stops it in its tracks, pushing his way inside as I back up against the counter in shock. His brown eyes are dark with anger, and they¡¯re narrowed on me.


    ¡°Zack,¡± I start, my heart pounding in my chest. I haven¡¯t seen him since that fateful day at the lodge. We haven¡¯t even texted. Well, maybe he texted me, but I blocked him months ago.


    ¡°Marnye.¡± He exhales, standing over me in a letterman jacket and jeans. His dark hair is longer than when Ist saw it, and the way it falls over his forehead makes my hands tremble. ¡°You won¡¯t talk to me. I had no choice but toe here.¡±


    ¡°No choice but to fight your way into my house?¡± I ask, realizing as we stand there that the Train Car is far too small for hisrge body. He takes over the space with his presence, filling it sopletely that I find it hard to breathe. ¡°Maybe you could¡¯ve taken the hint? I don¡¯t want to talk to you.¡±


    I look away, and my heart stutters a little. That¡¯s a lie. I do want to talk to him; I¡¯m just not going to.


    ¡°Too bad. I want to talk to you. I have a right to exin without ¡­ them stirring up drama.¡± He takes a step toward me, but I keep my face turned away. I¡¯m not going to look at him, not right now. Thest few months have been okay, filled with sunshine, day trips to the beach, and my tenth and


    eleventh rereads of the Harry Potter books. This is thest thing I need, a bump in the road to destroy myst peaceful week of summer. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear about what happened on thest day of-¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I choke out. That¡¯s thest thing I want to think about right now, about the paint dripping down the sides of my face, my split lip, and the look on Zayd¡¯s face ¡­ ¡°The only prize ¡­ was that trophy. We did it for fun.¡± Tristan¡¯s words slice through me, and I push away from the counter, heading down the hall toward my room.


    Zack follows me, and I end up trapped on my bed with his huge body filling my doorway.


    My hands curl into fists. I added his name to my revenge list. Why shouldn¡¯t I? He tried to break me in middle school, and for what? A bet. A bet to get into that stupid fucking Club.


    The Infinity Club is going down, I think, and I drop my hand to my right hip. There¡¯s a tattoo artist that some of my ssmates bribed during my time at Lower Banks in order to get illegal ink. I¡¯m taking a thousand dors out of the money I won and heading down there tomorrow to get a tattoo of my own.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    What I don¡¯t need is Zack Brooks, standing in my room and staring at me with those umber depths.


    ¡°You have to at least hear me out,¡± he says as I sit down on the edge of my bed.


    I¡¯ve spent all summer writing horrible things about him in my notebook, but it was all venting. I don¡¯t know how to make him hurt the way he made me hurt. Looking up, all I see is apology and sorrow in his eyes. Not like Creed. Or Zayd. Or Tristan. They definitely were not sorry.


    My fingers dig into the bedspread; it¡¯s the only way to keep them from reaching for the ne that hangs over my chest. I tried to sell it-twice- but I couldn¡¯t do it. Selling it felt like I was letting him win. I don¡¯t need or want Tristan Vanderbilt¡¯s money. I¡¯m giving it back the first day of school.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you done enough damage?¡± I whisper, and we both freeze at the sound of the front door opening.


    ¡°Honey, it¡¯s just me.¡± Dad¡¯s voice echoes in the small space just before I hear his footsteps. He pauses in the hall that connects the second passenger car, which holds our bedrooms, to the first train car which has the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. ¡°Zack, long time no see. Would you like to stay for dinner?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t. ns with my mom.¡± Zack leans his shoulder against the wall, his relentless gaze pinning me to the bed. I feel like I couldn¡¯t stand up if I tried. ¡°Well, if you have time on Friday, it¡¯s Marnye¡¯s birthday,¡± Dad starts, and


    I cringe. ¡°Since it¡¯s just me and her, it might be nice to have a friend to tag along?¡± He sounds earnest enough, but I wonder if Dad knows his words cut me to the core. I had friends. For a while, I had a lot. I had Miranda and Andrew, Zack and Lizzie, and ¡­ the Idols.


    For a while there, I really and truly believed I had them.


    Of course, those friendships slipped through my fingers like sand, and Dad had to see ¡­ well, more than a dad should ever see. He saw me kissing Creed in a towel, making out with Zayd on my bed, and letting Tristan grope me in the library. And my panties ¡­


    Humiliation washes over me in wave, but I¡¯ve had an entire summer to learn how to channel it into anger. My eyes flick over to my leather bookbag, resting on the edge of my desk. I¡¯ve taped my revenge list into a notebook and filled it with ideas. Ideas, and rules. Because if you can¡¯t trust yourself, then you¡¯re doomed to fail.


    ¡°Friday ¡­¡± Zack starts, and then sighs as he tucks his hands into his pockets. ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡±


    ¡°Great! We leave at eight sharp, noter. It¡¯s tradition to have pancakes at the Railroad Station on Marnye¡¯s birthday.¡± Dad slips back outside, letting the door m behind him. I can hear him wheeling the grill into ce.


    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted to at leaste and tell you that I¡¯d nned on having a conversation with you that night.¡±


    ¡°Sure you did,¡± I say, debating the chances of me getting up and down the hall before Zack cuts me off. ¡°Look, you¡¯re a little bit off my radar right now, so why don¡¯t you just leave and we can pretend we¡¯ve never met each other?¡±

 80

    ¡°At least unblock Lizzie and talk to her,¡± he says, but there¡¯s no way. Even if I were inclined to speak to Lizzie again, she¡¯s too tangled up with Tristan. ¡°Give her a chance to apologize. She¡¯s been sick over the whole thing, and not just about our bet. She¡¯s furious with the Burberry Bluebloods. Hell, she basically pit Coventry Prep Elite against them this summer. The Hamptons


    ¡­ turned into a social bloodbath.¡±


    My interest is piqued at that, but to get more information, I¡¯ll have to either talk to Lizzie or Zack. Neither of whom is someone I want in my life right now. The majority of my anger is focused on the Idol boys. I have to go


    back to that school, with those people, and I need to do more than just stay on the defensive. If I want to have a sessful career at Burberry Prep, I need to show the others that I won¡¯t be pushed around, not anymore.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I whisper, and Zack grunts, pushing up from the wall and taking a step toward me. The space is so small, it basically puts us toe-to-toe. ¡°You do care. Because Tristan Vanderbilt is in love with Lizzie Walton, and she put him through the wringer this summer. All I¡¯m saying is that


    you¡¯ve got an ally there, if you want her.¡±


    ¡°What good does that do me when she¡¯s in apletely different school?¡± I snap, feeling that anger overtake me again. That¡¯s going to be the hardest part, holding it back and channeling it appropriately. ¡°It¡¯s just me against the world at Burberry Prep; I¡¯ve already epted that.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that,¡± Zack tells me, his eyes like hot coals as they rake over my body. After a moment, he turns and heads back down the hall, pausing just before he slips out the front door. ¡°See you on Friday.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t count on it,¡± I whisper, and then I stand up and grab my notebook from my bag. The cover is just one, giant red infinity symbol with a sh through it. The Infinity Club. Their parents might have unlimited resources, as Lizzie said they might control the world, but this is the junior version.


    It¡¯s never too early to learn humility.


    The next day, I slip out of the house after dad leaves for work, and walk six blocks to a tattoo parlor called Shade¡¯s Dungeon. The guy who runs it is a creep, but he¡¯s also the only person in town that I know of who¡¯ll tattoo an almost-sixteen year old girl, actually do a good job, use a clean needle, and avoid infection.


    ¡°You actually showed up,¡± he says when I walk inside, wiping down the chair with a strong antiseptic. ¡°You got the money?¡± I take out the wad of cash I got from the ATM and hand it over. He counts it-twice-and then tucks it in his back pocket. ¡°Take a seat, and let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    I pause, my hand still resting on the door. It¡¯s not toote for me to turn around and walk away. Part of me wonders if I should, if I should give up


    this stupid revenge plot and just leave Burberry Prep. Grenadine Heights is a good school, and I¡¯d still get into a great university after graduation ¡­


    But no. No.


    The Idols ¡­ they need to know that their money doesn¡¯t make them gods. They have no right to y with peoples¡¯ lives the way they yed with mine. My eyes close suddenly and tearse, but I¡¯ve fought them off a number of times throughout the summer. What¡¯s one more?


    ¡°Look, kid, if you¡¯re not gonna get the ink-¡± My eyes flick open.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting it.¡± I move over to the leather seat and sit down as the tattoo artist rolls his eyes at me and curses inappropriately under his breath, something about fuFking idiot kids or whatnot. I ignore him. This is important to me, a physical manifestation of all the pain I suffered on that day, that year.


    Tristan, Zayd, and Creed yed on my vulnerabilities and offered me the one thing I wanted most: friendship.


    My throat closes again, and my hands tremble, but I roll up my tank top to expose my stomach and then push down the waistband on my leggings. The tattoo artist-I think his name is something old-fashioned like Sybil-holds up a design.


    ¡°How does this look?¡±


    There¡¯s an infinity symbol on the piece of paper, one with a horizontal sh through it, just like I saw on Derrick Barr when he was booted from the Club.


    ¡°That¡¯s perfect,¡± I say, waiting as Sybil transfers the design to my skin and then picks up the tattoo machine.


    ¡°You ready?¡± he asks me, sounding bored. I suck in a breath and nod. The needle touches my skin, pain rockets through me, and I grit my teeth. This is nothingpared to how I felt thatst day, with paint running down my shirt and between my breasts, my ribs and face aching, my heart shattered.


    I had a chipped tooth, and a broken rib. The day after I got home, I went to the doctor and found out about thetter. I¡¯d told Dad that I¡¯d fallen down the stairs; he hadn¡¯t believed me. But then, we hadn¡¯t talked much about what happened, not about the video of me with the boys, the panties, any of it. Instead of being upset about it, I feel like Charlie¡¯s been in an exceptional mood for weeks. He hasn¡¯t had a single drink that I know of either.


    ¡°Done.¡± Sybil steps back and then grabs a mirror, handing it over to me. ¡°Take a look.¡±


    I do, and it¡¯s perfect, a solid ck mark on my skin, a permanent reminder.


    ¡®Marnye, you forgive too easily,¡¯ Dad says, smiling down at me.


    Maybe before, but not now. Not anymore.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± I say, staring at the design in the mirror. He cleans me up, bandages it, and off I go.


    Before school starts next week, I have a couple of errands I need to run. They¡¯re imperative.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    Grenadine Heights is the ce to go for designer clothes, top-notch salons, and preppy assholes shing me looks. Only, this time they¡¯re looking at me like maybe they should be scared.


    At the risk of getting a mark on my first day back, I¡¯ve worn my new second-year Burberry Prep uniform to go shopping in downtown Grenadine Heights. The skirt is solid white, as opposed to first-year red. The ck shoes and white blouse are the same, but the tie is red and there¡¯s a single red and a single ck stripe on each elbow of the jacket, a perfect match to the red and ck Burberry Prep crest on the pocket,plete with pair of griffins. I¡¯ve even got on the thigh-high socks with the matching stripe at the top.


    Every student at GHHS knows where Burberry Prep is and who goes to it. Their football team kicks Burberry¡¯s ass every year, but it doesn¡¯t matter: everyone on the GHHS side gazes across the field and knows the grass is greener on the other side.


    So when I walk into the salon with my head held high, wearing my Burberry uniform, the women in there treat me like I have money.


    It¡¯s kind of ¡­ sad, actually. ording to my dad, my mother once saved up for a haircut and dye job here for months, and then when she walked in, she was treated like less than dirt. He said she came home crying.


    I guess I picked this ce for a reason.

 81

    ¡°I have an appointment,¡± I tell the girl at the front. She¡¯s clearly part-time, a student herself if the GHHS pin she¡¯s got on her shirt is any indication. She looks at me ¡­ like I¡¯m a god. I tell myself that¡¯s a good thing, that I must be projecting self-confidence, but I don¡¯t like it, using my uniform to intimidate people. That makes me feel like ¡­ them.


    I force myself to put on a huge smile.


    The girl flushes and then checks me in, showing me to a chair right in the front. When the stylistes over and sees my roots, the pretty but imperfect haircut Miranda gave me, and the fading rose gold dye, she cringes.


    ¡°I want this,¡± I tell her, pointing at my own head, ¡°just ¡­ elevated.¡± Rose gold realness, is what I want to say, but nobody here would appreciate that. But they will, when they see it. At least, I think they will. As far as I could tell, not all of the emotions I shared with the Idol boys were fake. I remember Zayd bobbing in moonlight, his wet hair stuck to his face, eyes shining. No. No, it might¡¯ve been a bet but it wasn¡¯t all fake. Somehow, that makes the whole situation seem even worse.


    The stylist gets to work, and two hourster, I¡¯m staring at a different person in the mirror. The color is that perfect mix of dusty pink and glimmering gold, and the cut has gone from passable to edgy. I make myself smile.


    ¡°It looks great.¡± The stylist seems to sigh with relief as I stand up and head over to the register to pay, leaving a generous tip. My eyes meet the receptionist¡¯s as she passes me a bag with some shampoo and conditioner I picked out. She¡¯s too young to have been here when Jennifer was treated so poorly. Same with the stylist. Even if I were interested in exacting revenge for my absentee mother, there¡¯s no justice to be had here.


    I turn around to leave just as the door opens and two blond teens step instead the salon.


    My heart stops beating.


    ¡°Miranda,¡± I choke out, her blue eyes widening as they meet mine. ¡°Marnye, please open the door!¡± I Fan see Miranda standing outside the


    aFademy¡¯s Far, trying to pull it open with the handle. The other Bluebloods hang baFk as the amphitheater empties out into the Fourtyard. Miranda whirls around when Creed tries to touFh her shoulder, and throws him off. I think she¡¯s defending me. Maybe. But I don¡¯t open the door until Charlie appears. Jennifer ¡­ she hangs baFk and says nothing.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Miranda asks me, her eyes flicking from my uniform to my hair. Creed ispletely frozen behind her, his bored princely look stuck on his face like a mask. There¡¯s a tension in his shoulders that I don¡¯t miss, a tightness in his jaw. I don¡¯t look at him; I can¡¯t. My hands curl into fists at my sides.


    ¡°I ¡­¡± Words fail me as Miranda and I stare at each other. Did she betray me, too? Did she know what wasing? ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The words fall out before I can stop them. I really am sorry, sorry that I made that bet with Creed, sorry that I let her down the same way the Idols let me down. I move to rush past her when Creed grabs my arm.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious?¡± he asks me, his voice like ice. I shove his hand off, and our eyes lock together. A spark passes between us, sending my still heart into a beating frenzy. My mouth tightens and my eyes narrow. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly expect to survive a week back at Burberry Prep.¡±


    ¡°Get your hand off of me,¡± I snarl as Miranda steps close and pushes her brother back.


    ¡°Leave her alone, Creed,¡± she says, her voice threaded with steel. ¡°Marnye,¡± Miranda starts, turning back to look at me, but I¡¯m already turning away and heading out the salon door. I run almost two blocks before I slow down, panting and shaking. How am I going to do this? I wonder as I stand up and lean against the brick wall of a deli. It smells like freshly baked bread out here. If I Fan barely look at them, how am I going to walk in there, purse-first, and tear down the system? For a second there, it¡¯s hard to breathe.


    ¡°You Fan¡¯t possibly expeFt to survive a week baFk at Burberry Prep.¡±


    I¡¯ve heard that before, and I proved them wrong, all of them. I can do it again.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    Several deep breathster, and I¡¯m ready to finish up my checklist for the day: new clothes, assorted supplies, and a few other random beauty stops. The best sort of revenge lifts you up, instead of putting others down. So ¡­ maybe I don¡¯t need all this superficial stuff, but it¡¯ll make me feel better. I want to get dressed up, and I want to waltz into that school with my head held high, my new hair and makeup a shield against their stares.


    Pushing off from the wall, I take off down the street, and I finish my ns.


    The morning of my sixteenth birthday, I wake up to fresh coffee and a package neatly wrapped in brown butcher paper. Dad¡¯s even added a pink ribbon to the top. He grins at me as I sit down on the couch with my mug, finishing a gulp of milky, sugary goodness before I set the cup aside to open the gift.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to get me anything,¡± I say, feeling guilty that I haven¡¯t told him about the money I won. I should just give it all to Dad; he deserves it. Instead, I¡¯m keeping it in case of emergency. And how sad is that, that I expect emergencies during my second year of high school? This should be my time to study, to make music, to make friends. Instead, I¡¯m just ¡­ trying to upset the ancient social hierarchy of ssism?


    I¡¯ve kinda got my work cut out for me.


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Dad starts, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. He nods his chin in the direction of the package, and I start to unwrap it. His voice is so soft, surprisingly gentle. ¡°Your dad got some newsst night.¡± Zack told me that the day Dad got drunk during Parents¡¯ Week. And yet, I still don¡¯t know what it is. ¡°I hope you like it, honey.¡±


    I¡¯d like it best if it was a jar of blue blood and tears from the Idols.

 82

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I will,¡± I tell him as I get the ribbon and paper off, opening the box to find mounds of tissue paper. Inside, a blue velvet box is nestled, and when I crack it open, I find Grandma June¡¯s antique bracelet. For as long as I can remember, I¡¯ve been obsessed with this thing. It¡¯s always hung on Dad¡¯s side of the bed, and I can remember countless times that I¡¯ve walked in and found him, head bent over, fingers rubbing the little copper charms. There are four of them: a tiny steam train, a loaf of bread, a dress, and a baby. But one charm was always missing, right in the center: all that remains is a tiny ring where it used to hang. Now, that ring has something else dangling from it: Dad¡¯s wedding band.


    ¡°What ¡­?¡± I start, holding the bracelet up. It¡¯s clearly been polished to a shine, the dull patina gone, the copper gleaming as I hold it up to the light.


    ¡°Why are you giving me this?¡± My eyes drift to Dad¡¯s, but he¡¯spletely unreadable. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans and forces a smile. ¡°You should have a piece of our family history with you. It¡¯ll give you strength.¡± My mouth opens, but no wordse out. How am I supposed to


    respond to that? ¡°Are you sure you want to go back to that awful school?¡± A groan escapes me, and I look away, clutching the bracelet in my palm.


    ¡°The academy will set me up for the best possible future-¡± I start, but Dad cuts me off,ing over to kneel beside me. He puts his hand on my knee, and I turn back to look at him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go back to that school for boys, Marnye,¡± he says, voice rough. He almost sounds like he¡¯s pleading with me, and my heart hurts. ¡°Just don¡¯t do it. And ¡­ don¡¯t go back because you think you have something to prove.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± How can I really respond to that? Is that what I¡¯m doing? Going back to prove myself? To exact revenge? Or is it really because I want the best academic career possible? I can¡¯t even answer that question for myself, so how can I tell Dad what¡¯s going on inside me?


    ¡°You could move in with your mother, and go to Grenadine Heights High


    -¡±


    My turn to cut him off.


    ¡°Move in with Jennifer?¡± I choke out, pulling away and pushing my body into the worn couch cushions, as if putting distance between me and Charlie will erase his suggestion from the air. ¡°I barely know her.¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Dad says, uncurling my palm and taking the bracelet. He puts it on my wrist as I sit there, staring at him like he¡¯s grown a second head. ¡°I¡¯m not saying your mother hasn¡¯t made mistakes in the past, but she¡¯s really trying here. She wants to get to know you.¡±Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The feeling is not mutual,¡± I reply, pulling my arm to my chest and ying with the bracelet. ¡°I¡¯m not giving up my schrship because of some bullying.¡±


    ¡°That was more than just bullying, Marnye. Those boys-¡± My eyes close and Dad stops talking, like he can see how pained just the mention of that day makes me. ¡°Look, you¡¯re a smart girl, always have been. You¡¯re more driven than I ever was, smarter, too. If you want to go back there, I won¡¯t question it, but know that you have other options.¡± Dad sighs and rises to his feet, pausing at a knock on the door. ¡°That should be Zack,¡± he says, and my eyes go wide.


    I rise from the couch, but I¡¯m not fast enough to get past before Zack Brooks steps into the trailer, dressed in a tight ck tee that pulls across his muscles, dark denim jeans, and brown boots. He stares at me from those dark brown eyes of his, gaze flickering over my ck leggings, tight ck tank, and totalck of bra, before he returns his attention to my face.


    ¡°Happy birthday,¡± he says, but it¡¯s hard to take him seriously when he made it his mission to see that I would never have another birthday again.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± I push past the two men, being careful not to even brush against Zack, and get dressed in one of my new outfits from yesterday. May as well test it out on him before heading back to that den of wolves.


    If Dad notices that I¡¯m wearing a new pink jumpsuit and ck wedges, he doesn¡¯t say anything. If he asks, I¡¯ll ¡­ well, I won¡¯t lie about it. But he doesn¡¯t. Zack takes me in carefully, my new hairdo, the bit of makeup I managed to put on with a YouTube tutorial, and my eysh extensions. Didn¡¯t even know that was a thing until I Googled it.


    ¡°You look beautiful,¡± Zack says, holding out a package wrapped in opalescent paper. It¡¯s very pretty, but I¡¯m loath to take it. Dad is watching though, and I don¡¯t want him to know anything about the Zack situation. It¡¯d just stress him out on top of everything else, and I can tell he¡¯s already pushed to the limit. He looks thinner, paler, and he sleeps a lot more than usual. I¡¯m honestly worried about him, but he seems to like Zack; they¡¯re sort of buddies now. I may as well let Dad keep that rtionship. ¡°Just something small. You can open itter, if you want.¡±


    ¡°Later is good,¡± I tell him, putting the package on the stove. Zack nods and steps back, leaving room for Charlie and me to step out of the train car. The sky is gray, but the rain hasn¡¯t started yet. Zack has his orange McLaren, but it¡¯s only a two-seater, so we take Dad¡¯s Ford instead.


    Charlie does his best to make conversation on the drive, but it¡¯s not easy, not with the tangible tension between me and Zack.


    When we get to the Railroad Station restaurant-this funky little twenty- four hour diner that¡¯s been here forever-Dad excuses himself to the restroom, and I¡¯m left alone with Zack.


    ¡°You¡¯re crashing my daddy-daughter time,¡± I whisper, and his narrowed eyes soften slightly.


    ¡°You want me to leave?¡± he asks, and I nod. A long silence follows.


    ¡°Only you¡¯re not going to because your wants and needs are more important than mine,¡± I whisper, and Zack stiffens up, like I¡¯ve pped him.


    ¡°Marnye, I want to help,¡± he says, but I¡¯m already shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯ve helped enough, Zack.¡± I look him straight in the face, and


    memories flicker across my vision: the bathroom door opening, Zack pulling me into his arms, putting his fingers down my throat. He saved me, but he also pushed me to that point for a bet. How can I ever forgive that? One time, he cornered me outside my math ssroom and told me he knew all about my mother, how she didn¡¯t love me enough, how she doted on her other daughter in way she¡¯d never dote on me. My mouth ttens into a thin line. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re seeking from me, but if it¡¯s forgiveness, I¡¯m not ready yet.¡±


    Zack¡¯s mouth tightens, and he looks away for a moment before rising to his feet. I nce back at him, my arms crossed over my chest, and I wait. I don¡¯t actually expect him to leave. He pushes in the chair, tosses down a wad of cash on the table, and then holds up his hand when I try to give it back.


    ¡°Enjoy breakfast with your dad on me,¡± he says, moving away from the table towards the door. But he stops when he¡¯s behind me, leaning over and putting his cheek so close to mine that I can feel his stubble. His right hand curves over my shoulder and squeezes, sending a swarm of butterflies winging through me. ¡°But ¡­ whether you want to deal with me or not, I¡¯m going to destroy those preppy academy pricks for you.¡±


    ¡°Hypocrite,¡± I mumble, because it¡¯s the only thing I can think to say. Zack¡¯s hand tightens on my shoulder, and I suck in a sharp breath. ¡°You¡¯re just as bad as they are-maybe worse. Don¡¯t pretend otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Zack presses a sudden kiss to my cheek and my body goes white-hot before my emotions freeze over, and I¡¯m ice-cold on the inside. ¡°Happy birthday, Marnye.¡± He rises to his feet just as Dad is making his way back from the bathroom. Zack gives him a little wave and then slips out the door, leaving me to answer awkward questions.


    ¡°What happened to Zack?¡± Charlie asks, taking his seat and then pausing to look at the heaping pile of cash on the table. He whistles and reaches up to adjust his gray fedora. ¡°I think he left a hundred on ident,¡± he says, and I smile, but I don¡¯t think it was an ident at all.


    But maybe what Zack doesn¡¯t get, and Tristan doesn¡¯t get, Creed, Zayd ¡­ money isn¡¯t that important to me. Now, only a truly privileged person will tell you it doesn¡¯t matter: it does. Food, clothing, shelter, security, medical


    care ¡­ Those things require money, but I don¡¯t worship the green. It doesn¡¯t impress me. It doesn¡¯t buy my friendship or my love.


    My throat gets tight.


    ¡°Zack had a thing he forgot about,¡± I say with a shrug, and while Dad raises an eyebrow, he doesn¡¯t say anything. When our orderse out, I nce at Zack¡¯s te of pancakes, his empty chair, and I think about his statement: I¡¯m going to destroy those preppy aFademy priFks for you.


    Only ¡­ he¡¯s not. Because that¡¯s my job.


    It¡¯s my job to destroy the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep. Those bad, bad Bluebloods.

 83

    The end of the year prank that left me reeling, it did not go unnoticed by the staff. As Dad grabs some snacks for the drive back to Burberry Preparatory Academy, I head online and look at all the beginning of the year emails with information about sses, school policies ¡­ and bullying.


    Burberry Prep is now a zero toleranFe Fampus. Students involved in bullying inFidents will be subjeFt to suspension or expulsion depending on the severity of the offense. RespeFt towards peers and staff is not just enFouraged, it is mandatory. If you have any questions regarding this poliFy, please see Ms. Felton or PrinFipal Collins during their offiFe hours.


    My lips feel suddenly dry, so I push myptop aside and head over to the printer to grab my ss schedule. The no electronics rule will go into effect as soon as I set foot on campus. No, before. Actually, the drivers of the academy-issued cars that travel between the visitors¡¯ lot and the school, they¡¯re the ones that take the phones.


    ¡°They may as well post my name right there on the front page for everyone to see,¡± I grumble as I grab the page, give it a quick nce, and pull some lip balm out of the drawer on my side table. My bags are packed, my heart is in my throat, and I¡¯m ready.


    I¡¯m ready.


    I can do this.


    My phone pings, and I turn it over to see a text from Miranda.


    Can we talk sometime today?


    My palms feel suddenly sweaty, and I tuck my phone into the front of my leather bookbag.


    Miranda¡¯s been out of the country most of the summer, but this isn¡¯t the first text I¡¯ve received from her. Actually, she¡¯s sent me several. I¡¯ve replied, but barely. We clearly aren¡¯t friends again yet. I mean, if we ever will be again.


    Grabbing my bookbag in one hand and my duffel in the other, I head out the door and pause when a white limo pulls across the gravel in front of our house. Dad is standing there watching like he¡¯s as confused as I am.


    The driver parks and climbs out, tipping his hat to me. ¡°Marnye Reed?¡± ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I mumble, thoroughly confused and hoping like crazy that


    none of the guys sent this car. If they did, I¡¯m refusing to get in. But of course, what a stupid thought that is. Why on earth would they send a car to get me unless they wanted to crash it into the ocean?Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Andrew rolls down the window, and my eyes go wide as he waves at me, a half-smile on his face. He looks unsure, as tentative as I feel. ¡°We¡¯re going the same way, so I thought ¡­¡± The driver moves between us to open the back door, and Andrew climbs out, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I¡¯m not in my uniform either. Instead, I¡¯ve got on ck leggings and a tank top for the drive. I nned on switching clothes in the visitors¡¯ bathroom like I didst year. ¡°I thought you might want a ride.¡± He tucks his hands into his pockets, the sun catching on his chestnut hair. His blue eyes take in the Train Car, my dad, and me with a flicker of something I can¡¯t quite recognize. Pity? It might be pity.


    I sigh.


    ¡°Dad, this is Andrew Payson. Andrew, this is Charlie Reed.¡± The two men shake hands, but I can see from my dad¡¯s face that he isn¡¯t sure about this. ¡°He wasn¡¯t involved in the prank,¡± I whisper, and both Charlie and Andrew stiffen slightly.


    ¡°I see.¡± Dad studies Andrew carefully, like he isn¡¯t quite sure he believes me. I don¡¯t me him. There were dozens of boys in academy uniforms brandishing my underwear in the crowd. Andrew just wasn¡¯t one of the many. ¡°You¡¯re offering Marnye a ride?¡±


    ¡°I was on my way through,¡± he says, ncing from my dad to me. ¡°I know Kathleen Cabot offered to send a car, and you refused, but I thought maybe we could talk?¡±


    My revenge list is burning a hole in my pocket. It still has Andrew¡¯s name on it. There¡¯s a reason for that. I hope it¡¯s the reason he came to talk to me about.


    ¡°I was hoping to spend some time with my dad,¡± I start, but Charlie¡¯s already smiling and waving me away.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, honey, you go with your friend. I was actually concerned that the Ford might not make it there anyway.¡± He takes one of my bags from the dusty driveway and passes it over to the limo¡¯s driver, pulling the duffel from my hand before giving me a huge hug. ¡°We¡¯ll see each other again soon, I promise,¡± he tells me, and I know he means Parents¡¯ Week. Mm. Like that wasn¡¯t a disasterst year. I still don¡¯t know what set Charlie off. I¡¯m starting to wonder if I ever will. ¡°I want you to have friends,¡± he tells me, kissing my cheek and stepping back.


    ¡°I love you,¡± I tell him, and he smiles back at me.


    ¡°I love you, too, honey.¡± And you¡¯re the only person that does, I think, trying not to let that hollow feeling in my chest take over. Since I made the list, I¡¯ve been determined, almost desperate to get back to Burberry Prep and kick some ass. Standing here right now, saying goodbye to my father, it doesn¡¯t feel quite so simple as that.


    With onest wave, I head over to the limo and slide into the cool, air conditioned back. The seats are sumptuous brown leather, and there¡¯s a TV, a mini-fridge, and some bedding stuffed in the corner. Andrew lets me have therger bench seat, the one that¡¯s perpendicr to his.


    The driver shuts the door, and we start off, making a slow circle of the Cruz Bay Trailer Park before we¡¯re back on the main street again. Andrew is the first one to break the silence.


    ¡°I would¡¯ve texted you sooner, but my parents put me on a full summer ban from texting, phone calls, and social media.¡± He pauses and sighs, looking toward the tinted back window. ¡°They found out about ¡­¡± There¡¯s a long pause, but Andrew doesn¡¯t need to fill in the words. I know what he¡¯s going to say. ¡°They know I was dating a guy.¡±

 84

    We just stare at each other, and my cheeks go pink. I feel awful about what I did to Miranda and Andrew, but ¡­ I¡¯m not entirely sure I was the only one who made mistakes. I¡¯m willing to hear him out, but for now, his name is still on my list. Miranda ¡­ I don¡¯t think I could retaliate against her if I wanted to. Besides, unlike every other Blueblood at Burberry Prep, she is not a member of the infamous Infinity Club.


    ¡°Are you in trouble?¡± I ask, trying to wrap my mind around the concept. What sort of parent would punish their kid for being gay? It¡¯s beyond my scope of understanding. My dad might be dirt poor, but he loves me no matter what. Something as inconsequential as sexual preference could never take that away from me.


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­¡± Andrew sighs and slumps back into the seat, closing his eyes. I remember meeting himst year, the things he said. ¡®I¡¯m not quite that luFky, and I¡¯m definitely not that gay-unfortunately. Between you and me, most of the girls here are already engaged.¡¯ Mm. Poor Andrew. He was already in hiding. ¡°I¡¯m engaged.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ¡­ what?!¡± I choke out, and start coughing so badly that Andrew ends up grabbing me a cold can of soda from the fridge. I crack the top and take a huge drink as he grimaces.


    ¡°My parents chose a fiancee for me. I either marry her, or I¡¯m cut off and disowned.¡± He stares at me across the limo like this is the most normal, average thing ever, parents threatening to disown their kids.


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­¡± I take a deep breath and set my drink aside. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry.¡± Andrew shrugs his shoulders, but I can see it¡¯s weighing heavily on him. ¡°Is it so bad, being ¡­¡± He trails off, and his eyes widen slightly, like he


    thinks he might¡¯ve pissed me off.


    ¡°Being poor?¡± I ask, and he shrugs again. Maybe he¡¯s thinking of following his heart and telling his parents to kiss his ass? Maybe not. But with his education from Burberry Prep, he could go to any college, get a good job ¡­ and then he could make his own fortune. ¡°Depends.¡± Our eyes meet and something passes between us, a flicker of nervous energy. ¡°Did you drug me?¡±


    Andrew¡¯s mouth opens, and then snaps closed. He looks away sharply. When I was making the list, I almost crossed his name out. I did. But then


    I started thinking about the day my hair was cut. It was hard to remember exactly what happened because every time I try to ess those memories, I think about Tristan having sex with Kiara Xiao over the sink in the girls¡¯ bathroom.


    ¡°We had breakfast together that morning,¡± I say, exhaling and closing my eyes. I don¡¯t really want to know the answer to this question. When I open them again, Andrew¡¯s staring at me. ¡°And I don¡¯t think Miranda did it.¡±


    ¡°Would you believe I¡¯m sorry about it?¡± he whispers, and I can feel it, that anger inside of me, like lines of fire ants crawling through my veins, biting


    me, spurring me to action. ¡°If it makes it any better, I stayed around to make sure they only messed with your hair ¡­¡±


    ¡°As opposed to what?¡± I snap, my voiceing out in a growl. This is good practice for me, confronting Andrew. Compared to the Idol boys, he¡¯s a kitten. ¡°I¡¯d been growing my hair out my whole life. I liked my hair.¡± I reach a hand up to touch the short locks on my head. ¡°I¡¯ve embraced the change, but that doesn¡¯t make it right.¡± I¡¯m panting now, my heart thundering wildly in my chest. ¡°Was it for a bet?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asks me, and we stare at each other again. ¡°You know how the Infinity Club works now.¡± My mouth purses, and I look away for a moment, staring out at the yellow-brown grass on the side of the road. It¡¯s been a hot, hot summer.


    ¡°Who was it?¡± I whisper, wondering if any of the guys were in on this one.


    ¡°Becky, Harper, Abigail, and Valentina,¡± Andrew says, and then sighs, like it feels good to get that off of his chest. ¡°The other girls call them the fucked-up foursome behind their backs.¡± I look back at him, slumped in a white tee and expensive jeans. He looks defeated. There¡¯s no sense of victory or justice in this.


    ¡°Did you know about ¡­¡± I can¡¯t even force my lips to form the words. Did you know about the beating I got baFkstage? How about the video? The paint? The panties? Anything at all? Because if he did ¡­


    ¡°Miranda and I knew nothing,¡± he says, sighing again. ¡°I¡¯m not in the Inner Circle anymore.¡±


    My mouth pops open, and my eyes go wide.


    ¡°How do you even know that? Do the Idols send out secret emails or something?¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re no longer a Blueblood, you know it.¡± Andrew sits up straight and looks me dead in the eye, reaching up to run his palm over his hair. I hate to stereotype, but no wonder he smells so good, like coconuts and sunshine; I should¡¯ve known he was gay. All those vibes I was getting off of him, all those appreciative looks ¡­ they were bestie vibes, not boyfriend vibes. ¡°I knew about the, uh, to make you fall in love, the ¡­¡±


    ¡°The bet.¡± I say it for him, thinking about that awful, awful trophy. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Just that. It¡¯s why I wanted to take you to the winter formal, why I encouraged you away from them.¡± He leans forward and puts his face in his


    hands. Taking revenge on Andrew would be like kicking a sad puppy. I can¡¯t do it. Because no matter what, I am not like them. I don¡¯t want to be like them. I used to think bing my mother was the worst possible fate, but now I¡¯ve decided that bing like the Idols is a fate worse than death.


    I¡¯ll take my revenge, but I have rules.


    I pull out the notebook from my bag and open to the first page, penning a new line on the bottom.


    Marnye¡¯s Rules for RevengeProperty ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    No physiFal violenFe


    No friendly fire


    No innoFent bystanders


    No sexism, raFism, homophobia et al


    Let them hang themselves with their


    own rope


    Know when enough is enough

 85

    Andrew lifts his head to look at me, blue eyes dark with regret and frustration.


    ¡°What else?¡± I ask, swallowing a lump. ¡°Is there anything else you did?


    Because this is yourst chance to be honest.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Andrew asks as I flip the page to the back cover where I¡¯ve taped in my revenge list. I spin it around for him to look at, and he raises his eyebrows. He notices his own name and lifts his face, meeting my eyes. ¡°Be careful with them, Marnye. If you thinkst year was bad, then rest assured they¡¯ll amp it up this time. They¡¯ll be gunning for you.¡±


    ¡°Answer the question.¡± I keep my pen poised above the page, and Andrew exhales sharply.


    ¡°Nothing else. And Miranda-¡± I hold up my hand. Miranda and I need to talk. But I don¡¯t want any information second-hand; it all has toe from the source. ¡°Nothing else. I¡¯m so sorry, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, too,¡± I say, feeling this wave of relief rush over me. I never wanted to hurt Andrew. ¡°Look: grant me one small favor, and we¡¯ll call it


    even?¡± He nods, and I uncap my red Sharpie. I have five of them in my bag, just for this sort of asion. As Andrew watches, I make an adjustment.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye Reed


    The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one


    two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)


    The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), BeFky tter (year one


    two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated)


    The Inner CirFle: Andrew Payson, Anna KirkpatriFk, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner ¡­ and, I guess, me!


    Plebs: everyone else, sorry. XOXO


    Zack Brooks


    The limo reeks like Sharpie for a moment as I pop the cap back on, tuck my notebook away, and look over at Andrew.


    ¡°So. You were in the Hamptons part of the summer, right?¡± Andrew raises his eyebrows, but nods. ¡°I hear shit went down. Tell me about it.¡±


    His forlorn facial expression evolves into a grin, and for a second there, I see a glimmer of the real Andrew hidden underneath the shell.


    ¡°Oh wait until you hear this T,¡± he starts, and he fills me in on everything that happened over thest few months.


    It¡¯s ¡­ interesting, to say the least.


    I may have more to work with than I thought.


    Andrew and I take turns changing into our uniforms, using the back of the limo and its tinted windows for privacy, and then we slide into the backseat of the shiny ck Cadic with the academy¡¯s logo on the side. My heart is racing, palms sweaty. I feel like I might choke.


    If I walk in there nervous, they¡¯ll know. They¡¯re predators, all of them; they¡¯ll smell my fear.


    ¡°Is any part of you still into them?¡± Andrew asks as we drive down the winding gravel road. I give him a look of such horror that he quickly closes his mouth and nces away. When we arrive at the courtyard with its stag fountain, I find myself with an escort.


    ¡°Miss Reed,¡± Ms. Felton says, smiling softly at me. There¡¯s so much pity in her eyes that I find it hard to hold her gaze. ¡°Wee back.¡± She nods at Andrew and then stands there politely until he gets the hint and leaves. Standing behind her coiffed form is a tall man in a suit that makes me a little nervous. I eye him warily. ¡°Have you spoken to Kathleen Cabot yet today?¡± I nod and shrug. She did call and offer me a limo for the drive to Burberry Prep. Well, most recently she offered me a limo. Yesterday, she offered to buy me a car. On thest day of school, she ¡­ apologized profusely for her son.


    My jaw clenches slightly as I think about Creed Cabot, and his angelic white-blond hair, his piercing blue eyes, thezy insouciant way he holds himself. Prince of Assholes, that can be his title while hepetes with Tristan Vanderbilt for King of Dickheads. I don¡¯t think about Zayd.


    ¡°Well, this is Kyle Carlin.¡± She gestures at the man, her outfit much the same as dozens of others I saw her wearst year. ¡°Principal Collins, Mrs. Cabot, and myself conferred with your father over thest few weeks, and well, we felt it¡¯d be nice if you had an escort on campus.¡± She must see the expression on my face because she adds, ¡°at least until you get back into the swing of things.¡±


    ¡°An escort?¡± I ask, looking at Kyle¡¯s hulking frame and huge muscles with my eyelid quivering. That¡¯s sort of thest thing I need, some giant


    bodyguard trailing me. I may as well just announce my weakness to the whole school. What sort of high school life is that, having some random dude following me everywhere? ¡°I¡¯m not interested in an escort.¡± Ms. Felton purses her lips and exchanges a look with Kyle. He¡¯s tall, dark-haired, and mean in the face. Very intimidating.


    ¡°I understand it¡¯s not ideal,¡± Ms. Felton begins, and I shake my head.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t want a bodyguard.¡± There¡¯s no way in hell I can exact my revenge with someone tailing me all day. I lift my chin and meet Ms. Felton¡¯s eyes. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s possible, but I think I grew a couple of inches over the summer; I feel taller. ¡°Is thispulsory?¡± My voice stays calm, even as Ms. Felton is staring at me like I¡¯ve lost my mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s not ¡­¡± she begins, and I nod. No way. Sure, I bet the bodyguard would keep the Bluebloods away from me. But that¡¯s all he would do. I¡¯d still have to see Tristan¡¯s gray gaze from across the room, hear Zayd¡¯s raucousughter, listen to Creed entertaining his subjects in The Mess. ¡°Well, if you change your mind, Kyle will be patrolling the campus. We¡¯re taking this bullying thing very seriously.¡± I nod and start to move away when Ms. Felton puts a hand on my arm. ¡°If you want to take your meals in your room, we¡¯ve made those arrangements with the kitchen.¡±


    I give her a tight smile and pull away.


    I can feel their eyes on me as I head up the steps, my white second-year skirt billowing in a breeze.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    My feet move just fine until I hit the stained ss doors at the end of the outdoor corridor.


    You Fan do this, I tell myself, breathing hard, pulse racing. Your uniform is Flean and pressed, you¡¯ve got on a garter belt and the thigh-high soFks you didn¡¯t bother withst year. Your hair is done, your makeup ¡­ passable, extensions on yourshes, brows waxed. My breath exhales, and I pull out a tube of bright red lipstick, smearing it across my mouth and then checking my teeth in a smallpact mirror. I start to head in and then pause, smiling as I roll the waistband of my skirt.


    ¡°Here goes nothing.¡±


    I push inside the chapel building, and the hall goes silent. Dead silent. There are students everywhere, in every year of uniform, and they¡¯re all staring at me. The only sound is that of my shiny ck dress shoes cking across the stone floors as I hold my bookbag over one shoulder and march


    down the hall with my shoul


    ders straightened, my chin up, my back ramrod straight.

 86

    My locker is in the same ce asst year, the keys to my dorm tucked in my bag. I head straight for the chapel hall for morning announcements, wishing Miranda were here. I texted her back a simple but critical: see me at lunFh in The Mess, but now I¡¯m phone-less with no way to contact her. Patching things up with Andrew felt good. I want ¡­ I need the same thing with my best friend, the only one I¡¯ve ever really had.


    Instead, I turn the corner and run straight into an ambush. Tristan Vanderbilt is even more terrifying than I remember.


    He stands at the point of the Blueblood crowd behind him, arms crossed over his second-year uniform: white pants, white shirt, white jacket, and red tie. He looks good in it, too, which I hate him for. Those de gray eyes of his narrow on me, and my throat tightens.


    I Fan¡¯t do this, my brain shrieks, wanting to panic, to run. But my heart was forged in fire. I stay put.


    ¡°Well, well, well, the Working Girl showed back up for a second round.¡± His voice is dark, shadowed with wicked intent, and his smile is terrifying. It¡¯s obvious he¡¯s enjoying this moment, reveling in it really. I expected that. What I didn¡¯t expect is the pain, the fury. The two emotions fill me to the brim, until I feel like I¡¯m spilling over. My hands shake.


    ¡°I told you I¡¯d be here,¡± I say, reaching up to pull the ne from inside my shirt. Triumph res in Tristan¡¯s silver gaze, but I can¡¯t quite figure out why. Does he think I¡¯m still pining for him? Does he want me to grovel and beg? Whatever the reason, even he can¡¯t hide the surprise on his face when I tear the ne off and chuck it at him.


    He catches it in his palm as Harper slices through the crowd, making a beeline for us.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want or need your money. You keep that. You need it more than I do.¡± I stride forward and past them, heading down the hall, when I feel something hit the back of my head. Spinning around, the white pleats of my skirt fluttering, I see Harper. She¡¯s picked her way through the crowd and now stands triumphant at Tristan¡¯s side, eyes glittering.


    That night on the way to winter formal, in the limo, I think she was legitimately upset. And Tristan treated her like garbage. That was not a part of the act. No matter how many times I go over it, I just don¡¯t think so.


    That¡¯s how I figured out the first part of my n: use Tristan against his own people. I don¡¯t have to destroy Harper du Pont: he¡¯s going to do it for me.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°Physical violence might be fun for you, but it¡¯s not how I¡¯m going to win this game.¡± I stay where I am, locking eyes with Harper. She hasn¡¯t changed much over the summer, save a few lighter streaks in her brte hair. She¡¯s still rich, popr, pretty. But she¡¯s desperate for approval from her peers. She¡¯ll be an easy target. ¡°Enjoy your first day back. Today, I¡¯m focused on settling in. Tomorrow, I¡¯m focused on you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of some working ss loser,¡± Harper snaps, but I¡¯m already turning away and ignoring her. It¡¯s not worth my time to get into verbal scuffles. Besides, if the verbal scuffles escte to physical ones, I¡¯m screwed. They¡¯ll all gang up on me.


    I head down the hall and turn another corner, mming into something firm and hard and sweet smelling, like geranium and sage.


    ¡°Whoa, cool your jets.¡± Zayd Kaiser puts his hands on my shoulders and steadies me, a grin working its way across his handsome face until he sees who it is that he¡¯s touching. He rears back from me like he¡¯s been burned, and I get at least some small satisfaction out of that. ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s your trophy?¡± I ask, my voice like ice as his green eyes lock on mine. ¡°Did you put it on a shelf in your dorm, so you can look at it and praise yourself for actually making me like you? What an incredible award to have won, being yourself around someone until they be vulnerable to you, and then breaking them.¡±


    ¡°You had your warnings,¡± Zayd scoffs, but I think I¡¯ve caught him off- guard a little. There is no way that all of those moments we spent together were bullshit. No way. None. Months of being on the road have left Zayd with a fresh tan, some new tattoos, and a headful of silver-ash colored hair. The red he dyed it for the graduation g is gone. Good. I didn¡¯t want to see it like that anyway.


    Before that day, Zayd had easily been the nicest to me, the one with a lot less to answer for. Creed had stolen my essay and read it aloud; Tristan facilitated the purchase and burning of that book. But Zayd? He¡¯d just been an all-around, general sort of asshole. That was easy enough to forgive.


    But now? I¡¯d chosen him, and he¡¯d destroyed me. All for the sake of winning a stupid bet.


    ¡°What are you even doing here?¡± he asks, like he¡¯s exasperated with me. ¡°Do you ever get enough?¡±


    My eyes burn, but crying in front of these monsters is not an option. They¡¯d probably film it, and make a new video. As it is, the one they already worked on, with me and the guys inpromising positions, had ended up on YouTube. Within two days it was gone, but that didn¡¯t stop it from racking up over ten thousand views first.


    ¡°Get out of my way,¡± I snap, pushing past him. He moves, but only because he wants to, and I can feel his eyes on me as I head toward the chapel. Everyone moves out of my way, Plebs scattering as the Working Girl stomps up the center of the aisle and takes a seat in the frontmost pew. There¡¯s a visible bubble around me, an emptiness that I know isn¡¯t going to be filled.


    It¡¯s fine. I expected it. I¡¯m okay with it.

 87

    The talking and giggling soon starts up again, and I can very clearly hear remarks made intentionally for me. I ignore them. They¡¯ll get what¡¯sing to them; it¡¯s just a matter of time. I exhale and nce up at the Gallery. There¡¯s a scattering of familiar faces up there: John Hannibal, Gregory Van Horn, Ebony Peterson. And Creed Cabot.


    His blue gaze drops down to mine, eyes widening imperceptibly before he controls himself, fading back into the bored royalty routine. I don¡¯t look away and neither does he; it feels like a challenge, and I refuse to back down. Day one, step one, remind the Idols that I¡¯m not one of their groupies. Creed holds my stare, his eyes narrowing the longer our confrontation continues.


    All around us, people stop talking and turn to stare, watching the exchange with drool hanging from their mouths. Okay, so not really, but they might as well. They all look like wolves, smacking their lips in anticipation of a fresh kill.


    That is, until thest of the students funnel in and the staff moves to close the chapel doors. An instantter, they burst open and a dull roar emanates from the back of the room, spreading toward the front like wildfire. Creed¡¯s head whips around and his eyes widen. Since he¡¯s broken our stare down first, I turn and look.


    My breath leaves me in such a rush that I feel lightheaded, my stomach twisting into knots as Zack freaking Brooks makes his way down the aisle, dressed in the white zer, red tie, and white cks of a Burberry Prep second year student. Holy. Shit.


    He pauses next to the pew I¡¯m sitting on, indicating the empty space on either side of me with an outstretched hand. He¡¯s got a letterman jacket over the top of his zer, and it¡¯s in the red and ck colors of Burberry Prep Academy.


    ¡°Do you mind if I sit here?¡± he asks, his eyes burning a hole straight through me. My teeth clench, and I want to scream in frustration. Instead, I nce back at the Gallery to find Tristan, Creed, and Zayd all watching me.


    Hm.


    They don¡¯t like Zack, none of them do. When they were wooing me, they pretended it was because of the bet he made with Lizzie. Clearly, they couldn¡¯t care less about me, so it¡¯s got to be something else. Based on their facial expressions, it¡¯s obvious they¡¯re not happy about Zack¡¯s presence here.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I whisper, but the room is now so quiet that my voice echoes in the chapel. Zack sits beside me, pressing his thigh against mine. Where our bodies touch, my skin burns, but I ignore that sensation. I¡¯ll admit it:st year, I was desperate for friendship, forpanionship, for ¡­ romance. This year, I won¡¯t make the same mistakes. I won¡¯t give into the hot ache inside my chest when the guys are around, and I won¡¯t let the empty siren song of my loneliness drag me to the rocks. ¡°Why are you here, and how did you get that jacket?¡± I shouldn¡¯t even bother asking, but my curiosity is killing me.


    ¡°Coach saw me y when Burberry went up against Coventry Prep.¡± Zack shrugs his big shoulders, dark hair shaved into a crew cut. He looks straight ahead and keeps his palms t on his thighs. He acts like he doesn¡¯t notice everyone staring at us. I call bullshit. ¡°He got tired of losing to public schools, and convinced the admins to let me in.¡± Zack nces over at me, eyes shadowed and unreadable. ¡°I¡¯m such a legend, I¡¯m the only second- year on varsity.¡± He grins and pinches the shoulder of his jacket, pausing as Miranda appears in front of me.


    We stare at each other, and I swear, I¡¯ve never been more of a nervous wreck.


    Ms. Felton is already taking the stage behind her, so instead of talking, Miranda just flops down on my other side, being careful to keep her leg from touching mine. I have no idea what this means between us, but when I hazard one,st nce at the Bluebloods, I can see the tightness in Creed¡¯s face, and I wet my lips.


    There¡¯s a list in my notebook with his name on it.


    Creed Cabot¡¯s Weaknesses


    Miranda Cabot


    Kathleen CabotThis material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    Jealous of Tristan


    Desperate to shed the ¡®new money¡¯ name


    Bullied in publiF sFhool


    Repairing my rtionship with Miranda is paramount, not just for my own sake, but for ¡­ everything else, too. I need her on my side.


    Principal Collins moves up to stand beside Ms. Felton, and clears her throat. The room is already quiet, save for the gossipy whispers of some of the students, but it falls into a deathly silence at the sound of her voice.


    ¡°Wee back,¡± she begins, her gray eyes scanning the crowd. When her gaze passes over me, there¡¯s a small flicker of sympathy and regret. I¡¯ve been seeing it on the faces of every adult here, and I¡¯m sick of it. My mouth ttens into a thin line as I flick my attention to Zack. His words suddenly make a lot more sense to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s just me against the world at Burberry Prep; I¡¯ve already aFFepted that.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that.¡±


    I wonder how long Zack¡¯s been nning this.


    ¡°As I¡¯m sure most of you are aware,¡± Principal Collins continues, moving across the stage with slow, deliberate footsteps, ¡°the wayst year ended was an embarrassment to the Burberry Prep name, a smear on our traditions, and a horrific example of unchecked privilege.¡± She pauses at the very edge of the tform, and I definitely don¡¯t miss it when she turns her attention briefly up to the Gallery and the gathered Bluebloods. I shift in my seat; I sense a possible ally in Mrs. Collins. I¡¯ll have to be careful to cultivate that rtionship. ¡°This year, we won¡¯t make the same mistakes again. Read up on the school handbook because you¡¯re responsible for being aware of all the changes to our academic policies. Those in vition will face suspension or expulsion, no exceptions.¡±


    She pauses, stares the crowd down once more, and then proceeds with the usual first day announcements.


    But there¡¯s not an eye in that room that isn¡¯t on me.


    Good.


    Let th


    em look.


    There¡¯s going to be a lot to see.

 88

    By the end of the first day, I¡¯m exhausted, and my mind is spinning with possibilities, desperate for some way to right the wrong that wasmitted against me. I¡¯ve already got a head start, my summer ns unfolding into glorious action. But not yet. Not quite yet.


    I head for The Mess, taking a seat by the window at the table I used to share with Miranda. We have pretty different schedules this year it seems, so if she wants to find me, this is her chance. I¡¯m not going to chase her, not if she isn¡¯t ready.


    So I sit down, ignoring the stares and the whispers, the way the Idols¡¯ table goes silent as I pull out a journal (not my revenge one, a different one),y it on the table, and leave it there while I check the menu. After I¡¯ve ced my order, I hunch over and begin to write.


    It takes all of two minutes for Tristan Vanderbilt to make his way over to me.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed in here this year,¡± he tells me, voice as smooth as silk. I can practically feel it trailing across my body, awakening every nerve ending in my skin. Goose bumps prickle my arms, but I ignore them. Lust is an emotion I can ignore if I have to. Screw Tristan Vanderbilt. ¡°Did you hear me, Charity?¡± He leans over and puts his elbows on the table. I wonder at hisck of back-up, but take advantage of it by looking up and meeting his gray gaze. ¡°I know you¡¯ve been given permission to take your meals in your room. Get your ass up and go stuff your fat face in there.¡±


    His words sting me, like running through a field oftles, little barbs embedding themselves into my skin. I brush the pain aside by mming my notebook closed and flicking the lock on the side. Tristan takes note of the action, and then refocuses on me.


    ¡°Did you know they broke my ribs?¡± I ask, and he stares at me with an impassivity that¡¯s frightening. There¡¯s no sign of any normal, human emotion in there, just cold steel and ice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, and I don¡¯t care. Get up and go back to your room before I make you do it.¡± I smile at him, but I¡¯m not afraid, not at all.


    ¡°Harper, Becky, the other girls ¡­¡± I trail off, gesturing in their direction with my hand. ¡°Did you know they were going to take it that far?¡± Tristan narrows his eyes and scowls at me, but at least there¡¯s some humanity in the gesture; I¡¯ll take it.


    ¡°What are you even babbling about?¡± he snaps, but clearly I¡¯ve touched a nerve because Tristan¡¯s already getting angry with me, and I¡¯ve just started.


    ¡°When the girls cornered me backstage before my harp solo, did you know they were going to beat me so badly that I¡¯d break my ribs and crack a tooth?¡± My eyes are locked on him, so when his widen imperceptibly, I catch it. He quickly schools himself, standing up straight and running his palm down the length of his red tie. But it was there, that little tell that gives me all the information I need: he didn¡¯t know. Tristan, the self-proimed King of the Academy, didn¡¯t know about the girls¡¯ n.


    The first seed of doubt has been sowed.


    ¡°This is yourst warning: take your meal and go back to your room.¡±


    ¡°Or what, Vanderbilt?¡± a disturbingly dark voice asks from behind him. Tristan and I turn to find Zack Brooks leaning against the wall with his eyes slitted, his mouth turned up in a crooked scowl. ¡°You gonna beat her like your girlfriend did? Leave her covered in bruises and blood?¡±


    Tristan¡¯s entire body is so stiff that I have to wonder if his muscles hurt, being held like that for so long. He just stares Zack down, and then finally, moves several steps closer. The two boys are toe-to-toe, and honestly, I¡¯m content to watch. Maybe they¡¯ll beat each other up right here in front of everyone, and then start the year with a suspension on their records?


    ¡°You think you¡¯re so different,¡± Tristan purrs, reaching up to run his long fingers through his raven-ck hair. ¡°You think because you¡¯re sorry that you¡¯re somehow better than us?¡± Zack¡¯s hands curl into fists by his sides.


    ¡°I never said I was better; I said I was on Marnye¡¯s side. That¡¯s it.¡± He flicks his gaze past Tristan¡¯s shoulder to meet mine. ¡°I¡¯m already an asshole. I¡¯m already tainted. I won¡¯t let her sully herself to try tobat you. I¡¯ll take you down first.¡±


    Tristan turns, smirking and raising his brows at me.


    ¡°You? Take us down?¡± Theugh that spills from his throat tears my heart in half, but I let it happen, let myself bleed. He never cared about me, not when he was kissing me on the steamboat, not when he was giving me the ne, not when he defended me in the vice principal¡¯s office. Every single second was fake ¡­ wasn¡¯t it? ¡°Please. With what resources? That change I tossed in your piggy bank?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make you sorry,¡± I whisper, but not because I¡¯m scared, but because my voice is husky with determination and menace both. Tristan simplyughs at me.


    ¡°You and what army?¡±


    ¡°This one,¡± Miranda blurts, and I jump in my seat. I turn to look at her, my mouth dropping open as I realize she snuck in while I was preupied with the boys. Her bookbag is held over one shoulder, her blue eyes hard, mouth set in a thin line.


    Creed is standing behind her, frozen in the doorway with his eyes jumping from me to Tristan to Zack, and finally over to Miranda. His mouth curls down in a frown.


    ¡°My family has more money than yours, Tristan,¡± Miranda snaps, dropping her bag to her side as she waltzes into the room, just as much a Blueblood as the rest of them. Her eyes glitter with frustration. ¡°And if I have to give Marnye every Fent to bring you down, I will.¡±


    ¡°Creed, put a leash on your bitch of a sister,¡± Tristan drawls, waving his hand absently. Creed¡¯s face tightens up, and I can see a muscle in his neck working as he tries to push back the rage. ¡°If you don¡¯t, then she¡¯s out of the Inner Circle. I¡¯m done with this crap.¡±


    ¡°Leave it, Tristan,¡± Creed hisses, taking a few steps forward. ¡°Miranda is off-limits, period. I won¡¯t fight about this again.¡± Mm. Creed versus Tristan. That¡¯s going to be a useful tool.


    ¡°Then kick me out,¡± Miranda says, reaching under her shirt and pulling out a set of keys. I wonder what those are for and then remember the Gallery and the locked door. A special set of keys, just for the elite members of the school. She chucks them at Tristan¡¯s chest, and just like with the ne,


    he manages to catch these, too. ¡°Good riddance.¡± She moves over to my table, stares Tristan dead in the face, and then hip bumps him out of the way while the Idol girls gasp and squeal like stuck pigs. Miranda grabs her menu, tosses her hair (or tries to anyway), and then looks across the table with a smile. ¡°I have soooo much gossip to tell you,¡± she begins, and then I know for certain that things are


    going to be okay between us.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

 89

    We have a lot of work to do, hard conversations to be had, but this is our new beginning.


    I focus on my menu as Andrew moves into the room and takes the third seat. Zack moves for the fourth, but my handshes out, and I curl my fingers around the back of the chair.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ready,¡± I tell him, and he nods. But then, of course, he takes up a table one over from us, watching and waiting.


    ¡°She¡¯s eating in The Mess,¡± Zack says, lifting his eyes to look up at Tristan, and then Creed. Zaydes in a momentter with Becky clinging to his arm like a leech. My blood goes cold at the sight, and I whip out my journal again, scribbling furiously in it. My eyes lift from the page to find Tristan¡¯s gaze locked on me. He scowls and turns away, storming out of the dining hall and mming the door behind him.


    Zayd and Creed say nothing, moving past me to sit at the Bluebloods¡¯ table in the corner.


    I nce at Zack, and he gives me a small, private little smile that Miranda notices, sucking in a deep breath.


    ¡°You have so much to tell me,¡± she whispers, and I grin.


    It¡¯s good to have her back ¡­ even if I don¡¯t trust her. Not yet anyway.


    My room is much the same as it wasst year with the exception of one thing: new locks on the door. Not that I think it¡¯ll stop the Bluebloodspletely, but it should buy me some extra time.


    Miranda takes a spot on the end of my bed, and this strenuous silence falls between us. I bite my lip and lean my back against the door, searching for the right words to say.


    ¡°There¡¯s so much I need to tell you,¡± she starts, taking the words right out of my mouth. Her blue eyes flick up to mine, and I hate that her gaze reminds me so much of Creed. I don¡¯t want to think about Creed unless I¡¯m thinking about how to destroy him. ¡°First off: have you heard about Windsor York?¡±


    My brows go up. The name isn¡¯t familiar, so I shake my head, pushing off from the door and moving over to the fridge in the kitchte for a pair of sodas. I toss one to Miranda as she grins big.


    ¡°He¡¯s tenth in line for the throne, you know,¡± she continues, popping the top on her can and taking a sip.


    ¡°The throne ¡­ what throne?¡± I ask, and Mirandaughs.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t keep up on current events, do you?¡± she asks, cocking a brow. She shes me a smile before continuing on. ¡°The throne of Ennd, silly, duh. You know, like Prince William and his wife, Kate?¡± I just stare at her. ¡°Kate Middleton? Like, everyone is talking about her? Prince Harry and Meghan Markle? No?!¡± Miranda exhales and stands up, like this is too important to let go of. Personally, I think this is a stall tactic to keep us from discussing real issues. She waves her hand dismissively. ¡°Windsor is, like, well, technically he¡¯s a prinFe. He¡¯s the queen¡¯s great-grandson¡± I just stare at her as she bites her lower lip. ¡°He stole his parents¡¯ yacht and crashed into a dock, sent ten people to the hospital. He¡¯s just lucky he didn¡¯t kill anyone.¡± ¡°What does this have to do with anything?¡± I ask, opening my own soda and taking a drink. The fizzy liquid coats my tongue as I look Miranda in the eyes and try to pretend like nothing happened between us. So much did. So, so much. But how do I even broach the subject? ¡°Miranda, I¡¯m-¡± I move to apologize again, but she cuts me off. Maybe she doesn¡¯t want to talk about it


    at all?


    ¡°He¡¯s been kicked out of so many schools all over Europe. They really want him to get his act together, so they¡¯re sending him overseas.¡± She grins at me and then picks at the top of one of her socks. She¡¯s got on the super tall ones today, too. I wonder if she¡¯s still seeing that girl, Jessie Maker. Do I even have a right to ask? I figure I probably don¡¯t. ¡°Specifically, they¡¯re sending him to America.¡± She pauses for dramatic effect. ¡°California.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± I ask again, and Miranda leaps to her feet.


    ¡°There are only three prep schools in California worthy of a prince: Coventry Prep, Beverly Hills Prep, and Burberry Prep. Marnye, I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯sing here.¡± I¡¯m not entirely sure what this conversation has to


    do with anything, but I also don¡¯t want to spit on Miranda¡¯s goodwill, so I make myself smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s amazing,¡± I tell her, my voice far too soft for such a normal conversation. She stops talking and her mouth purses into a thin line, eyes flicking to the side, like she can¡¯t quite bear to look at me full-on just yet. I try onest time. ¡°Miranda, I ¡­¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± she blurts, lifting her gaze up to my face. ¡°You know I tried to message you over the summer, right?¡± I nod, and hold back a sniffle. I¡¯m not going to cry, and I¡¯m not going to be wishy-washy. I¡¯m going to kick some Blueblood ass is what I¡¯m going to do. Just ¡­ not Miranda¡¯s. ¡°But I understood when you didn¡¯t reply. We both needed time, and Creed ¡­¡± She trails off as my lips curl into a slight sneer. ¡°What my brother did to you was unforgivable. I¡¯ve barely spoken to him since. If it gives you any peace of mind, it¡¯s killing him inside.¡± She smiles at me, but there¡¯s not a lot of joy in it; she doesn¡¯t like hurting her twin.


    But that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m going to do.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make him suffer,¡± I tell her, and she bites her lip for a moment before nodding.


    ¡°Yeah, I figured as much.¡± Her smile gets a little bigger, a little wider. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect anything less out of you. And besides,¡± she pauses to reach into her shirt, pulling out the ne that Tristan gave me, ¡°if you did anything less, they would crucify you. Fight back, Marnye, and show them what I already know: you deserve to be here even more than they do.¡±


    She takes my hand and drops the ne into my palm.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I choke out, and Miranda¡¯s smile gets even bigger. ¡°Tristan stashed this in his pocket, and then he and Harper and a full-on


    screaming match in the hall about it. Everyone saw, and I mean everyone.¡± She waves her hand dismissively. ¡°Anyway, when he wasn¡¯t paying attention, Harper took it. She threw it in the trash, and I dug it out. Keep it. You might find a use for itter.¡± Miranda leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek before heading for the door. My hand curls around the ne and squeezes it tight. ¡°Meet me in the morning for breakfast, and watch your back. They¡¯re gunning for you, Marnye, and it¡¯s going to so


    much worse thanst year.¡±

 90

    The most important items I packed in my duffel bag were cameras that I ordered online. They connect wirelessly to my phone, so I can watch the footage at any time. As I position them around my room, I feel a smirk working its way over my face. The best way to bring the Bluebloods down is to let them drown themselves. If they break into my room again, I¡¯ll have proof.


    As soon as that¡¯s done, I get dressed in the crisp perfection of my academy uniform, put on some makeup, and fix my hair as best as I can. It doesn¡¯t look as nice as it did at the salon, but it¡¯s still edgy and pretty, just long to curl around my ears. Next, I collect my schedule, and head into the hall. I bump face to chest into Zack Brooks.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I groan as I rub at my nose, looking up at him with a scowl. ¡°We¡¯re not exactly friends.¡±


    ¡°Only because you don¡¯t want to be,¡± he says, eyes, face, and voice dark and unreadable as always. My attention goes straight to his mouth, remembering that one, fierce make-out session we had during our brief dating session, and the magical way his tongue traced my lower lip.


    Shivers take over me, but I¡¯m not interested in Zack or Creed or Tristan or Zayd. Not anymore. Screw them all. Zack¡¯s sins might be older than the other boys¡¯ transgressions, but honestly, they¡¯re almost worse. He made me want to take my life, him and Lizzie. I exhale. The only reason she¡¯s not on my list is because she doesn¡¯t go to this school, and I have no way of getting


    back at her. Zack is on it because I always have a connection to him because of his friendship with my dad. But now, at least, I¡¯ve got him right here in front of me.


    ¡°Please move,¡± I say, tucking my bookbag against my chest. Zack stares at me for a moment, and I can¡¯t help but notice that scent of his, sporty and cool and well-rounded. It gives me butterflies and that just pisses me off, too. ¡°Move.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be on my side, but I¡¯m on yours,¡± he says, but I¡¯m done listening, so I brush past him and continue on down the hall and around the corner.


    At breakfast, I pull out my journal and start writing furiously. There are so many things I need to say with messy cursive between those lines. The girls are in The Mess, but the boys are nowhere to be seen. They watch me as I eat, voices muted, hatred muffled.


    With the extra security provided by the school, we¡¯re all going to have to be careful. It¡¯s why I¡¯m not making my move until Friday, at the first party the year.


    The door to The Mess opens, and Zack walks in, pausing briefly, eyesnding on me before he makes his way over to his own table. A few minutester, Miranda and Andrew appear, taking up seats across from me.


    ¡°What are you nning on doing?¡± Miranda whispers as she leans in to look at me, white-blond hair swinging forward and brushing across the table. The color reminds me of Creed yet again, but I don¡¯t let my thoughts go there, so I smile instead.


    ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡± I ask grinning sheepishly. I close the journal with a smack, making sure to take extra care to secure the lock and slide it into my bookbag. Andrew watches me the whole time, one brow raised.


    ¡°Well,¡± he begins looking from Miranda to me, ¡°Miranda here thinks revenge is best served hot and steaming, but I think it¡¯s best served cold.¡± Andrew gives me a slow, easy smile, and I can see how I thought he was flirting with me those few times. He¡¯s a genuinely open person, naturally friendly and charismatic. I guess my gay-dar just doesn¡¯t work properly. ¡°But you are nning on doing something to the Bluebloods, aren¡¯t you?¡± He leans his forearms on the table, and his smile gets a little bigger. ¡°Let me in on it, please. They already kicked me out ¡­¡± Andrew exhales, like he¡¯s just remembered his own fate. When he looks back at me, it¡¯s with a slightly more serious expression. ¡°I want to be a part of this.¡±


    ¡°You know we¡¯re going to help you, whether you like or not,¡± Miranda says, leaning back and tucking her hair behind her ear. ¡°So you may as well tell us all about your genius ns now.¡± She attempts a hair toss, but it fails miserably. I grin.This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    I¡¯m not about to tell Andrew and Miranda anything, especially not the fact that I¡¯m not putting my trust in anyone this year. I can barely trust myself. I decided I needed to make a stand, that I needed to make the Bluebloods pay, that I needed to pave a spot for myself at the school. But it¡¯s a slippery slope, and I don¡¯t want to end up like them. It took me a long time to find out who I am, and an even longer time to start to like the person that I¡¯m bing, so I can¡¯t let this ruin me. It¡¯s going to be a challenge. For now though, I¡¯m going to keep any thoughts of revenge to myself.


    ¡°Oh, if I¡¯ve got something nned ¡­ you¡¯ll see.¡±


    On Friday, I intend to show them, what, exactly I¡¯ve got up my sleeve.


    The first week of schooles to a close without any major events. There are too many staff members in the halls, and even though I turned down that bodyguard guy, Kyle or Keith or whatever, he¡¯s still around, acting like the Burberry prep campus cop. It doesn¡¯t stop the girls from saying things to me as they pass in the hall, but all I do is smile. I know what I¡¯ve got nned.


    The Idol boys seem to be going out of their way to steer clear of me. Whether that¡¯s because they¡¯re having a hard time facing up to what they did (doubtful) or because they hate me so much they¡¯re not sure if they can control themselves in my presence, I¡¯m not sure. For whatever reason, I see very little of the three boys I started falling forst year.


    Zack, however, is a different story. He sits next to me during the morning announcements and in every ss we share. On Friday, as I¡¯m getting ready for the party, he shows up at my door again.


    I check the peephole and sigh, throwing the door open and moving back, so he can step inside the room. He¡¯s so freaking tall and wide, he takes up the whole space with his presence. My heart skips a few beats before I manage to get a hold of myself. It helps that Andrew¡¯s lounging on my bed,


    and Miranda¡¯s in the bathroom spinning her long hair into curls. My rose gold locks are twisted in gentle waves around my face, hair-sprayed to hell, and covered in glitter.


    Zack looks me over with those dark eyes of his, taking me in from head to toe, his face entirely impassive. He rarely shows emotion. The face he has on now could be the same one he used when he was tormenting me at Lower Banks. Hell, it could be the same expression he wore when he cupped my face in his big hands and kissed me on the mouth. My


    first kiss. Ourst kiss.

 91

    I cross my arms over my chest, fully aware that I¡¯m wearing nothing but a robe with lingerie underneath. Don¡¯t get any ideas: the lingerie isn¡¯t for anyone but me. It makes me feel more confident.


    ¡°You look good, Reed,¡± Zack says, wearing his letterman jacket with a tight ck t-shirt, dark jeans, and shiny new sneakers. He looks like a million bucks. His outfit, as unassuming as it is, probably costs about the same. ¡°Off to the party, I¡¯m guessing?¡±


    ¡°What do you want, Zack?¡± I ask, looking at him and wondering if he¡¯s here out of guilt, worry, curiosity, all three? I don¡¯t need him to pay attention to me because he feels like he has to. And I didn¡¯t need him to transfer here out of some sick sense of duty. He can be as nice as he wants to me; it doesn¡¯t change anything. His name is still on my list.


    ¡°Let me be your backup,¡± he says with a loose shrug of his massive shoulders. The movement makes the muscles in his chest shift, and my eyes catch on the fabric of his tee as it strains with the motion. Good god. No wonder the coach was okay with taking a second year onto the varsity team. Zack is bigger than every other guy at this school, including the fourth years. I bet he crushes dudes on the field. ¡°The staff doesn¡¯t know about the party tonight. It¡¯s going to be rough.¡±


    I smile.


    That¡¯s exaFtly what I was hoping for, I think, but I don¡¯t say anything. Mirandaes out of the bathroom and pauses, looking Zack over carefully. She hasn¡¯t made up her mind about him one way or another. And by that, I mean she hasn¡¯t decided if he should drown in an icyke or burn up in a fiery explosion.


    ¡°What the hell do you want?¡± she demands, sauntering up to stand beside me. She¡¯s so regal, and daring. Her recement in the Inner Circle is a girl called Ileana Taittinger, a first year who became an instant dislike for me


    when she told me I was too ugly to be a Working Girl on her second day of ss. I¡¯ve added her name to my list. Andrew¡¯s recement has yet to be determined, but I¡¯m sure whoever he is, he¡¯ll be another one for the books.


    ¡°Let me drive you to the party tonight. I won¡¯t hang too close, but at least let me help you make an entrance. You know those guys hate my guts, right? They¡¯ll fucking hate seeing us there together.¡± I snort, ncing away toward where Andrew¡¯s waiting on the bed. He¡¯s still dressed in his uniform, and even though he hasn¡¯t said anything, there¡¯s this eagerness in him. I think he¡¯s excited to see Gary Jacobs at the party.


    ¡°Why do they hate you so much?¡± I ask, cocking my head to one side and studying Zack. ¡°I mean, they warned me off of you before they even made their stupid bet. Clearly, that wasn¡¯t out of fondness for me. What is it about you that disturbs them so much?¡±


    ¡°My brother might be a cruel jerk, but he would never take it as far as you did. You almost killed Marnye. You¡¯re irredeemable, Zack. Get fucked.¡± Miranda tosses her hair and smacks me in the face with it. I brush strands away from my glossed lips as she turns on her heel and storms back to the bathroom.


    ¡°So you think Creed¡¯s redeemable, huh?¡± Zack asks, reaching up to rub at his lower lip with his thumb. ¡°You think that bet¡¯s the worst the Infinity Club¡¯s evere up with? You¡¯re definitely drinking from the cup of naivety when ites to your twin.¡±


    My brows go up as Miranda turns right around and marches back into the room, blue eyes narrowed to slits. Wow. She looks just like Creed when she does that. A shiver overtakes me, and I cross my arms like I¡¯m hugging myself.


    ¡°What exactly does that mean?¡± she snaps, the words flicking off her tongue like a whip. I cringe a bit, but Zack just stands there, staring at us both.


    ¡°If I could tell you, I would.¡± I snort at that and he flicks his gaze over to me. ¡°What? It¡¯s the truth. The day they told you what Lizzie and I did, I¡¯d alreadye up with a n. I was-¡±


    ¡°-going to tell me out of pity and guilt? That¡¯s not good enough for me, Zack.¡± I exhale sharply and raise my chin defiantly. Our eyes meet, and a small thrill goes through me. He looks sorry, like really freaking sorry. There¡¯s a depth to his sorrow that makes my blood sing. Good. Good, let


    him be sorry for what he did. ¡°If Lizzie hadn¡¯t changed the terms of the bet, what then? What would you have done?¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he starts, his dark voice cracking slightly. ¡°I ¡­¡± Zack just stops talking, sighs, and then closes his eyes. When he opens them, that same old wall is back, crashing in front of his emotions and cutting them off at the source. He reaches up and rakes his fingers through his short, dark hair. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can say to make up for what I¡¯ve done. Nothing. I¡¯ll go.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Miranda says, pushing him toward the door and opening it up. He lets himself be pushed into the hallway, and thest thing I see before she ms it shut is his face, a deep frown etched into his mouth, his eyes mournful. ¡°What a total douche. I cannot even believe that I pushed you to date him.¡±


    ¡°You think Creed is redeemable?¡± I ask, and Miranda freezes. She¡¯s turned away, so I can¡¯t see her face, but when she nces over her shoulder, I see that it¡¯s true. She really does. But, I mean, he¡¯s her brother, so what else can I expect?


    ¡°I mean, he¡¯s not as bad as Zack ¡­¡± she starts before turning to look at me. ¡°He¡¯s been really supportive about my being gay, and he even banned the Bluebloods from making homophobicments.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a real winner,¡± Andrew says with a roll of his eyes. He sits up and gives her a sharp look. ¡°Don¡¯t make excuses for him. I¡¯m not saying Zack¡¯s a good guy, but at least he¡¯s trying to apologize. Creed doesn¡¯t give a crap about how he hurt Marnye.¡±


    Miranda sighs, and nods her head.


    I hate toe between her and her brother, but if she sticks with me, it¡¯s going to happen one way or another. I¡¯m not even going to have to take her away from him. He¡¯ll do that all on his own. I close my eyes and remember rule number five on my list: Let them hang themselves with their own rope.


    ¡°I won¡¯t make excuses for him,¡± she says, meeting my eyes. I nod and then grab my new dress off the chair in the corner.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get going: I want to make an entrance.¡±


    And so it begins ¡­


    The favor I asked from Andrew was simple: let me borrow his car for the year. Technically, no student is allowed to keep a car without special permission. But they all do it anyway. Last year, they literally just tossed caution to the wind and parked in one of the staff lots. This year, with all the new security and scrutiny, they¡¯ve all paid to have their cars delivered to a lot just off the campus property. Getting to it means sneaking through the woods in glittering party dresses and trailing perfume. I swear, there¡¯s so much cologne and body spray in this copse of trees, I feel like I might choke. ¡°I think every freaking student in the school is here,¡± Miranda whispers as we walk across the wet grass in ts, our heels clutched in our hands, purses slung over our shoulders. I¡¯ve embraced the Burberry Prep lifestyle: I¡¯m wearing a dress that costs too much money for me to fathom, and I¡¯ve got the heels that Creed bought me. All in all, including the jewelry I borrowed from Miranda, I¡¯m wearing over five thousand dors in clothing and


    essories.


    I almost gag at that thought.


    Also, pretty sure I¡¯m the most frugally dressed one there anyway.


    ¡°It¡¯s like a mass exodus,¡± Andrew whispers, passing me his keys. I can see the bright re of phone screens, and the sparkle of jewelry and dresses winking at me from various spots in the trees. If the staff doesn¡¯t know what we¡¯re all up to, I¡¯d be surprised. Then again, how can they really bust every student in the academy? The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I look around, expecting that Kyle guy to appear out of the shadows.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t like one,¡± Miranda whispers, biting her lower lip, ¡°it is one.¡±


    We hit the edge of the trees without encountering any of the Bluebloods, and I have to whistle at the shining red beauty of Andrew¡¯s car.


    ¡°Holy crap, Andrew,¡± I whisper, running my hand over the hood. Telling someone you have a red Lamborghini, and actually seeing it in person? Two totally different things. Like, I¡¯m not even into cars, but this one ¡­ hot as hell. ¡°What does your family do again?¡±


    He tucks his fingers in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders, crinkling his academy jacket.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.

 92

    ¡°We manufacture vehicles,¡± he says, and then grins at me. ¡°Pretty much any car made in the USA or Italy has the Payson stamp on it somewhere.¡± I smile back, but actually, I already knew the answer to that question. I studied every Blueblood on that list, their family, and their worth. I know who¡¯s the richest of the rich, and who¡¯s just hanging on by a thread.


    Raucousughter rings across the lot, and I lift my head to find Zayd with his head thrown back. He¡¯s howling over something Greg¡¯s just said, his arm around Becky¡¯s waist. My blood boils hot as they all pile into a blue Jaguar F-type convertible, gravel churning as they take off out of the parking lot with no regard to anyone else. I cringe as Zayd just barely misses smashing the front of his car into Valentina¡¯s Porsche.


    ¡°Idiots,¡± I mumble as I spot Zack¡¯s orange McLaren parked across the way. He¡¯s leaning against it, watching me. ¡°Stalker,¡± I add, flipping him off before I unlock the doors to the Lambo and move around to the driver¡¯s side. Before I climb in, I see Tristan and Creed standing next to a Bentley Bentayga, basically this super pretentious white SUV. As if they sense me looking their way, they both turn in unison, gray and blue eyes locked on mine.


    I smirk at the Idols, twirl Andrew¡¯s keys around my fingers, and slide into the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°Creed got a car?¡± I ask as I shut the door and watch through the tinted window as Tristan takes off for his dad¡¯s Ferrari Spider, and Creed climbs into the Bentley. I swear, every riFh person gets a Far for their sixteenth birthday. ¡°And did Tristan steal his dad¡¯s car or did he give it to him?¡±


    ¡°My dad offered us a choice: car or money in our trust. Creed chose the car; I chose the cash. Oh, and Tristan stole the Ferrari again,¡± Miranda adds with a shrug. ¡°He¡¯s been driving it all summer. His dad has so many cars, he probably didn¡¯t notice. Or care. William Vanderbilt doesn¡¯t exactly pay a lot of attention to his son.¡± She checks her phone and then squeals so loudly in my ear that I jump. ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere yet!¡±


    Miranda scrambles out of the back, crushing Andrew with the front seat as she pushes past him. She¡¯s not two steps out of the vehicle before she¡¯s throwing her arms around a girl that I vaguely recognize as Jessie Maker, the same girl I saw her withst year. They hug so tight it looks like they might break each other¡¯s ribs, and then they pull back and just grin at each other.


    ncing back out the driver¡¯s side window, I see Creed sitting in his Bentley with the window rolled down, watching the pair of them. His hands are tight on the wheel, and I know he¡¯s as aware of Gregory Van Horn and John Hannibal watching her as I am. He turns away sharply and starts up the SUV, peeling out of there almost as fast as Zayd did.


    ¡°Is it okay if Jessie rides with us?¡± Miranda asks, cheeks pink, panting heavily as she peers into the car.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine with me,¡± I say, and neither girl waits for Andrew before they push his seat forward and scramble into the back.


    ¡°Hey Marnye, I¡¯ve heard a lot about you,¡± Jessie says, her dark brown hair hanging shiny and straight around her thin shoulders. She has a genuinely nice smile, sparkling chestnut eyes, and a white dress that leaves little to the imagination.


    ¡°All good,¡± Miranda assures me as I smile and shake hands with the new girl, starting up the Lambo¡¯s engine with a delicious purr. Like I said, not a car person but holy crap, the rumble of the engine through the ck leather of the seat is almost enough to make me a convert.


    Much more cautiously than the others, I back out of the space and take the same gravel road up and out of the lot, heading towards the location for the first party of the year: Ileana Taittinger¡¯s countryside mansion. It¡¯s about two hours north of Burberry Prep, up a winding coastal road that deviates around Santa Cruz, and ends in a gloriously long driveway topped with a fancy metal gate.


    There are students-first years, based on their uniforms, and one third year-policing the gate, and opening it only after checking to see who¡¯s inside each car.


    We are most definitely not invited.


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t told us how you n on getting in there,¡± Andrew says as we creep up the driveway, and I exhale sharply, ncing over at him with a sympathetic expression. He sees it and gets immediately suspicious. As he should.


    ¡°A favor is a favor,¡± I tell him, and his face pales. Wee to a stop just feet from the gate as one of the first year girls saunters over to us with her skirt billowing in the breeze, shing a whole lot ofcy pink panty in the process. Hmm. I roll the window down and she leans her forearms on the door, her cloying perfume filling up the car and making me gag.


    ¡°Excuse you,¡± she spits, and the vitriol in her voice makes me grit my teeth. This girl has never met me, and yet here she is, looking at me like I¡¯m lower than pond scum. ¡°No whores, hookers, or prostitutes allowed. Go turn your tricks in the city, Working Girl.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I say, keeping my voice neutral, my face pleasant. I can feel the tension from Andrew, Miranda, and Jessie behind me. ¡°My name is Marnye Reed, and I¡¯ll be attending this party, thank you very much.¡± I continue to smile as the girl scowls at me, and a boy in a third year uniform approaches from the other side.


    ¡°No faggots,¡± he says, shaking his head and sneering at Andrew through his partially rolled down window. ¡°I don¡¯t care what Creed says. He¡¯s noting into my little sister¡¯s party. Wouldn¡¯t want to get raped by a homo.¡± The boyughs, and the sound is rather like a donkey with a sore throat, grainy and snotty and ugly. I resist the urge to scream, my hands tightening around the wheel.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just go, Marnye,¡± Andrew whispers, his voice and face dark. ¡°We¡¯re not getting in here.¡±


    ¡°Please open the gate,¡± I repeat, and the girlughs at me, moving away to stand next to the brick pir on the left, tossing her hair perfeFtly, and then giggling at something one of the guys says. The other asshole, Ileana¡¯s older brother apparently, snorts and flips us off before sauntering back to the group. With a sigh, I put the Lambo in reverse and pretend like I¡¯m leaving.


    I¡¯m not.


    ¡°Marnye ¡­¡± Andrew begins, just before I put the car back in drive, and m my foot on the gas. With the squeal of tires and the stink of burnt rubber, we shoot forward and smash through the gate. It¡¯s not locked, so it opens easily, the metal flying back and smashing into the bricks. The kids gape at us as we roll across thewn and park next to the dozens of other fancy cars already there.


    I take note of Zayd¡¯s, Creed¡¯s, and Tristan¡¯s cars before I climb out and lock the doors, tucking the keys in my bra. Andrew¡¯s still gaping at me, and Miranda¡¯s grinning, just barely resisting the urge to hop up and down. Okay, so, maybe she jumps up and down a little. Jessie just raises her eyebrows and whistles in surprise.


    ¡°Okay, who are you, and what have you done with the Marnye Reed I know?¡± Miranda asks as the group from the gate storms across the yard


    towards me. I ignore them, toss my hair (poorly, I might add), and head for the front porch and the crowd of gawping students.


    Zayd¡¯s right there in the thick of it, a beer in one hand, his mouth open, his green eyes tracking me as I make my way toward the front door.


    ¡°Hey!¡± the Taittinger guy shouts, pounding up the steps to cut me off. His ugly face is twisted in a sneer, and I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s about ten seconds from putting his hands on me. The bitchy first year girl is right behind him, taking up on his left like a sentinel.


    ¡°You fucking bitch!¡± she snarls, and it¡¯s pretty disturbing to see such a hateful expression on her baby face. I look at them both with a so what? expression before ncing over at Andrew and smiling softly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the car, but there doesn¡¯t even seem to be a scratch. Your family makes quality vehicles, I have to say.¡± He stares at me for a second, blinking past the shock, and then grins.


    ¡°I guess we do.¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth, faggot,¡± Taittinger sneers, stepping close to Andrew.

 93

    He seems a bit tentative about hitting a girl, but I¡¯m worried for Andrew. ¡°Back off of him, Craig!¡± Miranda shouts, just as much a Blueblood as


    she ever was. No, no, more of a Blueblood than she was before. She¡¯s practically regal in that cream colored dress of hers, like a princess. Or maybe even a queen. ¡°If you touch him, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Craig sneers, shoving Andrew in the chest with a palm. Andrew stumbles back, nostrils ring, but he holds his ground. Miranda is there in an instant, despite Jessie¡¯s attempts to pull her back. She throws herself at Craig Taittinger, and he raises a fist. I¡¯m ready to step in if I¡¯m wrong, but


    ¡­


    A pale hand mps onto his wrist and jerks him back so hard that he stumbles, falling into a heap on the porch. A crowd¡¯s gathered around now, as Creed looks down at Ileana¡¯s brother with a face so full of darkness that I barely recognize him.


    ¡°Were you thinking about touching my sister?¡± he whispers, his voice like jagged sheets of ice, as sharp as ss and freezing cold. They can cut to bleed and poison the flesh with frostbite, all at once. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± Creed puts his foot on Taittinger¡¯s throat, and the crowd gasps in shock. Me, I¡¯ve got my phone recording and nobody knows it.


    He¡¯s just proteFting his sister, I think, but I banish the thought, remembering the impassive way he stared at me while I was humiliated,


    remembering my panties clutched in his hand. He threw them at me like he was tossing trash at a stray dog.


    ¡°Lay off, Cabot,¡± the first year girl snaps, her hands curled into fists. ¡°These idiots rushed the gate. Craig was just trying to help.¡±


    ¡°By hitting my sister?¡± Creed Cabot says, his voice sending a chill down my spine. I remember the way he tore Derrick Barr up with wordsst year, and then proceeded to flip him off the deck into the weeds. Scary. ¡°And what did I say about homophobic garbage? I won¡¯t stand for it.¡± He pushes his feet even harder into Craig¡¯s throat, and I feel this little twinge inside of me. I¡¯m not a proponent of violence, but ¡­ Creed¡¯s message is a good one. Still, I keep recording. ¡°Leave them alone.¡±Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°But the Working Girl-¡± the first year chick sputters, and Creed¡¯s eyes, normally half-lidded andzy, snap up to her, sharp with rage. She retreats back a few steps and pinches her glossy red lips closed. A momentter, Tristan appears in the doorway with Ileana on his arm. She¡¯s giggling and flirting until she sees her brother on the ground.


    ¡°Craig!¡± She pushes away from Tristan and stumbles forward, knocking Creed out of the way in her frenzy. As he bumps into me, my hand sneaks into his pocket and fishes out his keys. They¡¯re in my own pocket before he realizes who he¡¯s just bumped into, turning to look at me. He¡¯s panting with rage, but he quickly closes his eyes, takes several deep breaths, and banishes the emotion. When he opens them back up, they¡¯re the samezy, insouciant eyes I¡¯m used to.


    As he stares at me, I lean down and switch out my ts for the heels he bought mest year, the ones with the gold moon and silver star designs.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing here?¡± Tristan asks as Craig pushes up to his feet, choking and ring at Creed. A good fourth of the crowd actually seems to be sympathetic towards him. Nice. This should have been my seventh rule: Create a divide between the Plebs and the Bluebloods. Craig Taittinger, as haughty and arrogant as he is, is still nothing but a Plebeian in the Burberry Prep social scene.


    ¡°Me?¡± I ask, sauntering up to Tristan and putting my hands on the front of his wool jacket. I trail them down, palms t, as Tristan¡¯s de gray gaze narrows. I know what I look like, dripping diamonds, wearing a tight, gold dress and heels. A whole summer of working out and preparing myself for this moment, and it shows. I¡¯m still curvy, but my body is much tighter. He


    can see it, I know he can. God, this is so weird, I think as I curl my fingers around the edges of his pockets. As far as I can tell, there are no keys inside.


    I¡¯ll have to look elsewhere.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to party.¡± I push Tristan back, and he stumbles. But only because he¡¯s not expecting the move. As Zayd watches us, still gaping, his eyes following me inside the door, I take off for the drink table and pour myself a beer. No way in hell I¡¯m going to actually drink it, but when I see Harper du Pont ring at me from across the crowd, I lift my cup in salute and pretend to take a chug. She sneers at me, but I just smile, waiting for Andrew, Miranda, and Jessie to catch up with me.


    ¡°What was that all about?¡± Miranda gasps, looking at me like she¡¯s never seen me before. ¡°Was that part of your revenge plot?¡±


    ¡°It just happened,¡± I say, which is true. It did. But there are certain ways to y this game, tips and tricks to set the Idols versus the Inner Circle, the Plebs versus the Bluebloods. When Harper¡¯s gaze is safely averted, I dump my beer in the sink and fill the cup with water. Next time she looks, I really do chug the entire cup in one go, getting a few stray cheers from some first years who don¡¯t quite know who I am yet.


    ¡°Well, that was scary,¡± Miranda says, exhaling and running her hands down the front of her dress. ¡°Jessie, drink? I know I could use one.¡± Miranda starts mixing up two cocktails in red stic cups while I peek out the back door and see, surprisingly, that the pool isn¡¯t in use. It¡¯s covered up with a tarp, but there¡¯s water pooled on the top along with heaps of dead leaves, weighing it down so that it sags into the pool water. As surreptitiously as I can, I refill my cup.


    I look back at Andrew.


    ¡°What are you nning?¡± he asks me, and I shrug. I¡¯m sort of ying things by ear. I mean, I have a list, but ¡­ this is much better, this new idea I¡¯m cooking up. ¡°What do you need from me?¡±


    ¡°Can you help me find Tristan¡¯s and Zayd¡¯s keys?¡± I ask, and he raises both brows before Zayd pops into the kitchen and interrupts us. It¡¯s awkward as hell when he pauses next to me and sighs, holding a beer bottle in his tattooed right hand. He clears his throat and tosses his chin in the direction of the living room.


    ¡°Beat it, Payson,¡± he says, and Andrew frowns, but exchanges a quick look with me before heading in the direction of the staircase. I¡¯m hoping he¡¯s off to find Tristan¡¯s keys. I turn my attention to Zayd. He returns my stare


    with a hard one of his own, his hand tightening even harder around the bottle. The motion makes his tattoos look like they¡¯re liable to slide right off his skin like stickers. ¡°Marnye,e on, what are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m partying,¡± I say, tipping the drink to my lips and swallowing a huge mouthful. Zayd raises his pierced brow at me, teasing his right lip ring with his tongue. He¡¯s painfully beautiful, especially with that silver-gray hair of his. It¡¯s spiked up with gel, and as I watch, he reaches up to tease it with his fingers.


    ¡°Did you thinkst year was a joke? It was a warm-up session, Marnye.


    You shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    ¡°So you keep saying,¡± I retort, taking another sip of my water. Zayd frowns hard, and tips his beer back. Irresistible by Fall Out Boy and Demi Lovatoes on, and I smile. I don¡¯t know a lot of pop songs, but this is one of Miranda¡¯s favorites. She puts it on a lot when we¡¯re getting ready. ¡°But what are you going to do about it? Is there a medal for destroying me a second time, something to hang up beside your trophy?¡±


    Zayd just stares at and then chucks his beer into the sink. When he steps forward suddenly, I¡¯m so surprised that I move back, my butt bumping into the counter. He puts a hand on either side of me, effectively penning me in. I can smell him now, that sweet tobo and cloves scent that had me swooningst year. Then I remember that he brought a camera into my room to film us while we made out.


    Piece of shit.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know what the Club will do to you if you don¡¯t leave,¡± he threatens, using his rockstar purr of a voice. It gives me the chills all over, but I ignore the feeling and narrow my eyes. ¡°What I will do to you if you don¡¯t leave.¡± He puts a palm on my hip, but I shove his arm off, simultaneously diving into the back pocket of his jeans with one hand while I grab his face with the other.


    You Fan do this, Marnye, you are so badass! I tell myself, but still ¡­ doesn¡¯t make this any easier. I kiss Zayd hard and fast, pushing my tongue between his lips at the same time I swipe his car keys. He groans and leans into me, putting his hand back on my hip and squeezing.


    Oh my god, no. He tastes so damn good. My body melts into Zayd¡¯s even as my heart and soul remain hard as stone, unyielding and immovable. But those damn hormones ¡­ With a gasp, I shove away from Zayd, and stumble,


    spilling my water all over the floor. I ignore it, crushing the cup under my heels as I flee

 94

    I don¡¯t let myself enjoy the sight for too long, heading back for Creed¡¯s Bentley next. I do the same thing, scraping it along the other vehicles, and leaving it floating in the water with the windows rolled down. I¡¯m not sure how long it¡¯ll take to sink (pretty sure it only takes a few minutes), but I don¡¯t care. Just seeing it partially submerged in water is enough.


    Zayd¡¯s car isst, and by the time I¡¯m letting that roll over the edge, both Andrew and Zack are standing on the back patio watching.


    Zayd is not far behind.


    ¡°Holy ¡­ what the fuck?!¡± he screams as I stand there on the edge of the pool, barefoot and frowning. I don¡¯t smile as I pick up my shoes from the pavement and watch him stumble over to the edge of the water. The cars are very quickly disappearing beneath the surface. ¡°Jesus Christ, are you fucking insane?!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t go around hurting people and expect to just get away with it,¡± I tell him, d that the kiss is already fading from my mind. I feel better now, more in control. I curl my hands into fists as Zayd drops to his knees next to the pool.


    ¡°My dad is going to y me,¡± he groans, putting his hands over his face. ¡°Babe?¡± Becky asks as she steps out the back door. She gasps and mps


    a hand over her mouth as I flip open the top on my purse and dig around inside. ¡°Oh my god. Oh my freaking god. Harper! Tristan!¡± Becky stumbles outside in her four inch stilettos and turns to look at me, face aghast with horror. ¡°You psycho bitch,¡± she snarls, blond curls billowing in the wind. I reach into my purse, grab the fancy scissors I bought from the salon, and then reach up and chop a huge hunk of her hair off at the scalp.


    She screams and stumbles back toward the edge of the pool. It doesn¡¯t take much for me to reach over and push her in.


    Miranda and Jessie appear just as the ssh dissipates and Beckyes gasping to the surface, hauling herself over the edge. Zayd helps her up, but


    then just leaves her lying soggy and wet on the pavement as he turns to me. The edge of my lip quirks up in a half-smile, and I shrug one shoulder.


    ¡°I give as good as I get,¡± I say, just as Tristan, Harper, Creed, and Ileana appear in the doorway. I wonder if she¡¯s going to be the next female Idol, taking Gena Whitley¡¯s ce. At this point, I really don¡¯t care. I chuck the scissors in the pool, reach into my bra, and grab Andrew¡¯s keys. ¡°Guys, you ready to go?¡±


    Miranda makes a tiny squeaking sound and nods, grabbing Jessie by the arm and dragging her towards the Lambo. Andrew follows, and Zack pauses beside me, watching as I take in the Idols and their gaping faces. Even Tristan is wide-eyed, his face stricken. Actually, Creed seems the calmest. He turns to look at me, much like his sister did, like he¡¯s never seen me before.


    ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve just done?¡± he asks, sounding as bored as he ever does. I meet his blue gaze, and ignore the little thrill that travels through me. I chalk it up to adrenaline. I¡¯m practically dripping with it right now. ¡°We report you and you¡¯re done. Permanently.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I say, pulling my journal out and cracking the lock. As the party filters outside and the music stops, I scribble some things down inside before looking back up again. ¡°Tell the administration how I somehow single- handedly got these three cars that you¡¯re not supposed to have, in the pool of a house we¡¯re not supposed to be at, surrounded by alcohol we¡¯re not supposed to be drinking, and see if that does the trick. Maybe I¡¯ll be expelled, maybe not. How satisfying would that win be for you?¡±


    Several students lift up their phones and start recording, so I stop talking. I won¡¯t say anything else. I don¡¯t need to: Creed¡¯s face tells me everything I need to know. His shoulders stiffen, his jaw tightens, and his heavy-lidded eyes narrow to slits.


    Without waiting another beat, I turn and head back to Andrew¡¯s car with Zack on my heels. Just before I climb in, I look at him, standing so close I can feel the heat of his body. He smells like citrus and musk, and my heart skips a few beats. I look up into his dark gaze.


    ¡°Thank you, but ¡­ this doesn¡¯t change anything.¡± He digs his hands into his pockets and shrugs his shoulders.


    ¡°I know. It¡¯s fine.¡± He nods; I nod.


    And then I climb in the Lamborghini and drive away.


    When I get back to the academy, I change my clothes, wash the makeup from my face and the hairspray from my hair, and then I report the Bluebloods for drinking.


    Oh, and their breathalyzers ¡­ don¡¯t exactly zero out.


    the room.


    Fighting my way through the crowd, I somehow find my way over to Zack.


    He takes one look at my face and curses.


    ¡°They¡¯re still getting to you,¡± he growls at me as I stand there with my face flushed, feeling weirdly alien in my short dress and heels. I just look up at him, and I have no idea what to say. That it sucks to be crushing on the very same people you hate? That I know I¡¯m an idiot, that I should be an emotionless badass in a catsuit, as tough and capable as my favorite urban fantasy character.


    But I¡¯m not.


    ¡°I ¡­ I need Tristan¡¯s car keys, and a serious distraction,¡± I choke out, and Zack raises his dark brows at me. I cannot even believe I¡¯m asking him for help, but there it is. He just stares at me for a moment, and then nods. Without a word, he pushes past me and then pauses when Andrew appears, breathless and holding out a jangling set of keys in his palm. ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell him, feeling a rush of adrenaline spike through me. I look to Zack, and he smiles with tight lips, pushing forward and finding John Hannibal in the crowd.


    John turns to look at him, scowling slightly, and then Zack just hauls back and punches him right in the face.


    ¡°Fight!¡± someone screams, and the crowd surges toward that single point in the room, jostling me and Andrew in the process. I take his hand and push in the opposite direction, toward the back doors and the swimming pool. Once we¡¯re outside, I kick off my shoes and take off running, hauling Andrew along with me.


    ¡°Make sure nobodyes out here,¡± I tell him, heading straight for Tristan¡¯s dad¡¯s Ferrari Spider. For some reason, I want to fuck with him first. Exhaling sharply, and holding strong to that red-hot thread of revenge inside of me, I climb into the driver¡¯s seat, start the vehicle and use it like a bumper car, mming into the other students¡¯ rides indiscriminately. I don¡¯t go too hard or too fast, just enough to scrape, scratch, and ding as many as I can without making too much noise.


    When I get to the edge of the pool, I climb out, put the car in neutral, and then move around behind to push it. Andrew starts toe toward me, but I shake my head, and he goes inside the house. At first, I can¡¯t figure out whatContent provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    he¡¯s up to, but then I hear the volume of the music crank up a few notches. A grin takes over my face as I step back and watch the eighteen million dor car drive right over the edge, and into the swimming pool.


    Believe me, this is an Olympic sized swimming pool, made of pure cash. It¡¯s huge, as long as the house is, with fountains and water slides, faux coves and caves and bits of aesthetically pleasing rock. There¡¯s plenty of room for a car. Or two. Or three.

 95

    My mind is focused on one thing above all else: college. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, suffering through this nightmare of a school. Burberry Prep will give me the best possible future, the greatest chance at a good life. So I¡¯ve upped my game, and by the end of the second week, I¡¯ve added a secondnguage (Spanish) to my ss roster, and tacked on a few extracurricr activities. I¡¯m now part of the academy¡¯s book club, history club, and the model UN. The one ce I amcking in, however, is in sports.


    Today, I¡¯m going to make up for that.


    Cheerleading tryouts are taking ce in a special gymnasium once used to house the academy¡¯s gymnastics team. Since moving toward more academically focused endeavors, the school retired their gymnastics program and left the building more or less abandoned for close to a decade. This year, with the addition of Zack to the varsity football team, Burberry Prep is looking to dip its toes in the proverbial waters of sports.


    This includes revamping the cheerleading team.


    It¡¯s no longer going to be used as a sideline sport for football or basketball, but instead as apetition team, something to earn merits in its own right. For the first few football games of the season, the team remained unchanged fromst year, but with Principal Collins putting pressure on the coach, she¡¯s having to open up the ranks.


    Now, Burberry Prep is a snobby, academic-based school. Cheerleading is almost seen as a bit ¡­ basic. But while Harper and Becky have no interest in


    signing up, the rest of the Blueblood girls are not beyond the allure. So when I walk in with my gym bag over my shoulder, all eyes are on me.


    Including Zack¡¯s.


    He¡¯s standing in the center of a cluster of girls, smiling sweet as pie. The expression on his face puts a frown on mine, even as he separates himself from the team and they let out a collective groan. Ileana, in particr, is ring daggers at me. Kiara, too. Maybe they¡¯re pissed that I single- handedly sent all three Idol boys, both remaining Idol girls, and half the Inner Circle to in-school suspension. It starts on Fridays right after ss ends, and consists of school-rted chores like stocking books in the library, dusting shelves, sweeping leaves, and scrubbing windows. From Friday evening untilte Sunday, the in-school suspension students are locked down by staff members with brief nine hour breaks to sleep-and even then, they¡¯re checked on twice a night.


    Basically, it¡¯s hell on earth.


    ¡°What are you doing in here?¡± I whisper as Zackes up to stand beside me, towering over me like he always does. I know it¡¯s not on purpose, but it¡¯s intimidating. I refuse to let it get to me, and lift my chin in defiance, trying to make myself feel a little taller.


    ¡°Well, I really didn¡¯t expect you to be in here, so you can¡¯t im I¡¯m stalking you.¡± He tucks his hands in his pockets and just stares at me. I can feel his gaze like a heatedser, searching across my face, seeking ¡­ something. It bugs me, but I also refuse to back down. ¡°I¡¯m a guest judge for tryouts.¡± He shrugs his shoulders again, as if that makes it all better.


    ¡°You are a guest judge?¡± I ask, and I get a rare smirk from him, this sensual twisting of lips that makes me realize so very quickly why all those girls are swooning over there. Zack leans in close, putting his forearm on the wall above my head. He¡¯s all around me in that moment, hard muscles and musky smelling cologne. Myshes flutter, and I exhale past the hormones. Last year, they got me into trouble. This year, I won¡¯t let that happen again. ¡°What makes you qualified to judge cheerleading?¡±


    ¡°Um, my sister Kelsey was the head of the Burberry Prep cheerleading team.¡± Zack leans in a little closer, his letterman jacket falling open in the front, epassing me. It¡¯d be so easy for him to scoop me up and bundle me inside of it. That is, if I didn¡¯t hate his guts. ¡°Also, my mom went through a spell where she was tired of being more than a boring ass trophy wife; she coached for like three seasons.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­¡± I exhale, and blink a few times to clear away the cobwebs. I¡¯d really like him to move away from me, but I feel like I can¡¯t say it. I don¡¯t want him to know how his presence is affecting me. ¡°So ¡­ you¡¯ll make sure I get on the team then?¡±


    Zack¡¯s brows go up, and a dark chuckle reverberates through him. I swear, I can feel it vibrating the air molecules between us.


    ¡°Are you asking me for help in your revenge plot?¡± He pauses for a second and shakes his head. ¡°Not that you¡¯ve needed much help thus far. Sinking the cars, that was brilliant. And Becky is still crying over her hair.¡±


    ¡°Get me on the team,¡± I tell him, staying firm. When he reaches out to touch a stray strand of rose gold hair, that¡¯s when I call it quits, ducking underneath his arm and putting my back to the room. Zack watches me and sighs, dropping his hand to his side.


    ¡°Done.¡± The smirk disappears from his mouth and he frowns at me again. My mind conjures up an image of him dumping a garbage can full of used feminine products on my desk, and I almost throw up. I started my period earlier than most of the other girls, and I was mercilessly destroyed for it. Just one of the many, many things he did to me. I¡¯ll never forget that. ¡°That is, I can fix my vote, and I can probably convince Amy to give you some good marks.¡± The way he smiles when he says that tells me he thinks very highly of himself with thedies. But then the frown¡¯s back as quick as the smile came. ¡°Other than that, you¡¯re on your own. Do you know anything at all about cheerleading?¡±


    My turn to vaguely shrug my shoulders.


    ¡°I was busy this summer,¡± I tell him cryptically, turning and heading into the center of the gym. I push right through the crowd of girls, ignoring the whispered insults, and then lean down to sign the form on the table. The coach blinks at me in surprise and raises her eyebrows, but she doesn¡¯t say anything, just hands me a number, and tells me to get in line.


    Zack takes his ce behind the table as Coach Hannah exins how tryouts are going to work. The only girls who are here are the ones who were on the team before, plus a few first years like Ileana. That¡¯s it.


    I¡¯m the only outlier. The only hated one.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to wish you¡¯d never trashed my brother or my pool,¡± Ileana whispers as she takes up my right side, and


    Kiara stands on my left.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.

 96

    ¡°Did you really think Tristan was into you?¡± Kiara asks, scowling in my direction. Her dark hair is slicked back into a tight bun, making her face seem even more severe. It takes every ounce of effort I have not to imagine her bent over that counter in the bathroom. ¡°He never liked you. He¡¯s on his way to being one of the most powerful men in the world. Did you really think somemoner trash like you would satisfy him?¡±


    I ignore her as the coach speaks quietly with her assistant for a moment. My eyes meet Zack¡¯s from across the room. His gaze is so dark, so unreadable. It makes me want to pry it open and see what¡¯s going on inside. My original n had been to destroy his football career. But I¡¯m still not sure how to go about doing that without injuring him, and I refuse to hurt anyone physically. I nibble on my bottom lip as Kiara leans in close to me, frustrated with myck of response to her taunts.


    Once upon a time, the Marnye Reed I used to be would¡¯ve felt those barbs deep down in her soul. She would¡¯ve bled on the inside, cried on the out, and gone home to curl into a ball on her bed. Not anymore. Not ever again.


    ¡°How many times did you spread your whore legs for him before he dumped you like the useless slut you are?¡± Anger res sharp and hot inside of me, but I ignore it. Kiara elbows me as hard as she can in the side, and I grunt, but before I can retaliate, Coach is turning back to face us.


    Damn it!


    Exhaling against the pain in my ribs, I listen to her instructions and toss my bag aside. I¡¯m already dressed in my PE sweats and tank top, a sports bra, and sneakers. I Fan do this. I spent all summer working out, swimming, running. I¡¯m in the best shape of my life.


    We start with a warm up that I¡¯m totally self-conscious about thanks to Zack. I can feel his eyes watching my every movement, tracing the beads of sweat on my forehead, the moisture sticking my shirt to my body. He leans forward, eyes heavy lidded but nowhere near aszy as Creed. Instead, he looks ¡­ interested. My heart thunders as I struggle to keep up with the assistant coach and her quick, strong movements.


    By the time it¡¯s over, I feel like I might pass out. The pain in my ribs is killing me, and I¡¯m pretty sure if I had a knife, I¡¯d stab both Kiara and Ileana. One is dark-haired, fair-skinned, and slender while the other is pale- haired, tan-skinned, and curvy. I hate them both equally. They nk me as I drink from my water bottle, and I make sure to stay out of their reach. Their


    eyes, however, follow me around the room, and when I step away from my water, I¡¯m pretty sure they mess with it.


    Sigh.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    Since it¡¯s Friday, they both have their phones and they make no attempts to hide the fact that they¡¯re using them.


    I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s to text the Idols, because we¡¯re just getting ready to line up to learn the dance when the gym doors open, and Tristan walks in with Harper at his side. She¡¯s spitting mad, but nowhere near the level that Becky¡¯s at. The way she res at me ¡­ looks might not be able to kill, but I can feel the hatred on my skin like the searing heat of a scorching sun. My flesh feels like it¡¯s liable to peel off under her gaze.


    She¡¯s got her long, blond hair tucked up in a bun, but it¡¯s impossible to miss the naked patch on the left side of her scalp. Harper might not know it, but she¡¯s next. I don¡¯t know how or when, but it¡¯s totally happening.


    Zayd follows in behind Becky, his jaw so tight it looks like he might crack his teeth. His tattoos are bright and colorful, tracing their way up his muscr arms and disappearing briefly under the thin sleeve of his ck wife beater. He¡¯s got on baggy jeans with zippers stitched across them, and Doc Martens. Basically, he¡¯s the opposite of Tristan with his freshly pressed white academy cks, wless jacket, and super straight tie.


    Creed is somewhere in the middle, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a pair of jeans and Barker cks paired with it. They might not technically be doing in-school suspension anymore, but they¡¯re also not allowed off- campus until after Halloween. If they¡¯re caught breaking that rule, it¡¯s an automatic expulsion.


    I smile.


    I¡¯ve really fucked their party schedule up.


    The Idols take a seat on the bleachers, a cadre of Bluebloods behind them. I recognize the usual suspects: Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, and Jalen Donner.


    The remaining girls: Anna, Abigail, and Mayleen are all here trying out for the team.


    Looks like they have yet to find a recement for Andrew, and I already know Ileana is Miranda¡¯s recement. Great. So ¡­ the party¡¯s all here then? It¡¯s impossible not to feel their eyes on me as I take my ce in the center of the group. There¡¯s a visible amount of extra space around me, like I¡¯m


    some sort of leper. I ignore it and focus on the dance moves instead. Well ¡­ the dance moves ¡­ and Zack¡¯s eyes.


    There¡¯s something about his dark gaze that draws me in, focuses me. At first, it bothers me so much that I stumble and mess up the steps. Laughter bubbles up from the bleachers, but I ignore it. My attention besser focused on the way Zack¡¯s watching me, his lips parting slightly, his lids getting heavier and heavier. At one point, he even runs his tongue across his lower lip, catches himself doing it, and curses. Amy Plumber, a fourth year seated next to him, jumps a whole foot in her seat, and I feel a grin split my lips.

 97

    We go over the dance several times before coach calls for another break. After this, we¡¯lle out in groups of three and perform it in a row. Scores will be passed out, and after, members will be chosen for the team. I have to get on it. I have to invade their spaces. By lifting myself up, I put them down. And that¡¯s their own problem. My sess should have nothing to do with them, but it pisses the Bluebloods off. Infuriates them. When I seed, they feel like they¡¯ve failed. If that¡¯s how they want to live their lives, I¡¯m okay with that.


    During the next water break, the entire crew heads over to worship at the Idols¡¯ feet, leaving me alone with the bottles, duffel bags, and an entire span of time where nobody is looking.


    Kiara¡¯s orange bag, and Ileana¡¯s ck one are right next to me. Bending down, I move my own bag, so that it looks like I¡¯m digging through it. Instead, I search through theirs. Kiara¡¯s is empty save for her clothes and some condoms. But in Ileana¡¯s ¡­ there¡¯s a half-empty bottle of exx.


    I knew she was up to something over here. That bitch.


    A shadow moves over me, and I jump, but it¡¯s just Zack.


    ¡°Do it, quick,¡± he tells me, using his huge body to block me from the view of the Idols. While I¡¯ve got a chance, I quickly dump Ileana¡¯s water into my own duffel bag, hoping the moisture resistant material will hide what I¡¯ve done. It¡¯s worth the sacrifice. I pour the remainder of my own water into her bottle, and let fate take its course. If she hasn¡¯t messed with my water, she¡¯ll be fine.


    If she has, she¡¯s screwed, and it¡¯s her own damn fault.


    Zack moves out of the way just as I ce Ileana¡¯s bottle back, and she appears on his left side.


    I sit down and change out of my sneakers, grabbing a pair of socks that¡¯ve managed to escape the water fiasco, and pretend like this is what I was doing all along. Ileana chugs her water and wipes her arm across her mouth as I stand up. She moves toward us, a horrid smirk twisting her pretty features into something ugly.


    She doesn¡¯t get a single word out before Zack is inserting himself between us and moving me behind him. I don¡¯t need his help, and frown, but he does it anyway.


    ¡°What? Are you her pet now, too?¡± Ileana asks, tossing her long, blond ponytail. ¡°She spread her legs for you nice and good?¡±


    ¡°You should shut your mouth,¡± Zack whispers, his voice so dark and cruel that I shiver. ¡°You should kill yourself, Marnye. Nobody would Fare. In faFt, we¡¯d have a party Felebrate.¡± My mind shuts that down quick, locks the bad memory away, and tosses the key. That¡¯s thest thing I need to be thinking about right now. ¡°And keep it closed before you say something that really pisses me off.¡±


    ¡°What, you gonna hit me or something?¡± Ileana asks, stepping forward and getting in Zack¡¯s face. I move around to stand beside him and catch a glimpse of the darkness that skirts across his expression. It¡¯s ominous and chilly, and I realize then that the side of himself he turned on me is still very much there, crouching inside of him like a demon waiting in the shadows.


    ¡°No, but you¡¯ll wish I had, when I¡¯m done with you.¡± He looks her up and down, and then grins. Only it¡¯s not like a grin I¡¯ve ever seen from him, not even when he was making my life a living hell at LBMS. No, this is glee in the maliciousness, something he never disyed to me before. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell everyone why you have those bruises on your inner arms? What sort of naughty things did you get into this summer? Because those are most definitely needle marks.¡±Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I had tests done,¡± Ileana blurts, but her face is reddening, and I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s just embarrassed or if Zack is telling the truth.


    ¡°What kind of tests?¡± Zack presses, stepping even closer and putting his hands on her upper arms. Ileana shivers, but when she scowls, it¡¯s as nasty an expression as it ever was. ¡°Surely, that¡¯d be an easy question to answer ¡­ if you were actually telling the truth. What was it, really? Meth? Heroin? Careful, Ileana, your trailer park is showing.¡± Her eyes widen, and I can see Zack¡¯s struck a nerve. He¡¯s good at that, though, and I get no pleasure out of watching him destroy someone else with his special talent. No, it hits too


    close to home. As awful as Ileana is, I can¡¯t watch this anymore. ¡°Did you know her parents got cut off from their fortune once, just like I did? They ended up in a trailer park, high on drugs and out of their-¡±


    ¡°Zack.¡± Just that one word from my mouth, harsh and final. Rule #6: Know when enough is enough. ¡°Go back to the judges¡¯ table.¡±


    He stares at me for a moment, and then moves around Ileana.


    I reach for her water bottle, but she jerks it out of my hand and spits on me. Literally. Spits right into my palm.


    ¡°Keep your grubby whore hands to yourself. Thest thing I want is to get cmydia.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re more likely to catch that from Tristan,¡± I blurt into the silence. This tension settles over the room as Coach walks back inside with a duffel bag bursting with pom poms. She sets it aside as I turn and meet Tristan¡¯s gray gaze from across the room. He¡¯s stoic and unmoving, looking at me like I¡¯m a fly that needs to be pinned to a board and left to squirm.


    I stare right back.


    Ileana tips her water bottle to her lips and drinks deeply. She makes a weird face, and I wonder if the exx has a taste. Unfortunately for her, she doesn¡¯t seem to make the connection.


    Coach assigns her, me, and Kiara (go figure) into a group for the official tryout portion. Ileana doesn¡¯t make it through two minutes before she grabs her stomach and shes me a look of terror. I don¡¯t stop dancing as she runs off toward the restrooms.


    I¡¯m not sure when shees back, but when she does, I¡¯ve already been measured for my uniform.


    On my way out of the gym, I meet the stare of every Blueblood in that room-paying special attention to the three Idol guys-and then I flip them off and hea


    d outside into the starlight.

 98

    By the time Parents¡¯ Week rolls around again, the Idols have made their decision: they¡¯ve weed Ileana Taittinger into their ranks, promoted Kiara Xiao into the Inner Circle to take Miranda¡¯s ce, and reluctantly chosen a fourth year named Ben Thresher to rece Andrew.


    Their circle of arrogance, assholery, and privilege is once againplete.Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    The bullying has amped up again, too. We¡¯re back to condoms in my locker, stickers on my door, bags of dog shit on my wee mat. But it¡¯s difficult for them to hit back at me where it counts, not with the heightened security on campus. They¡¯re going to have to try harder if they want to match me blow for blow.


    ¡°Something doesn¡¯t feel right,¡± I tell Miranda on Sunday, staring at my phone and hating the butterflies in my stomach. Dad ising back to the academy. This freaking academy where I was humiliated beyond belief. I hate that he had to see me like that; it kills me inside. Plus ¡­ if I said I wasn¡¯t still ashamed that he got drunkst time he was here, that would be a lie.


    I¡¯m nervous. I¡¯m terrified.


    If the Idols wanted to find my weak spot, well, Charlie is it. Charlie is my beating heart, and if they do a damn thing to hurt him, I swear I¡¯ll kill them all. Closing my eyes, I exhale and then open them to find Miranda staring at me.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel right, how?¡± she asks, lounging in a baggy pink sweater that looks worn andfy but which I¡¯m pretty sure is cashmere and costs like two hundred bucks. ¡°sses? Parents¡¯ Week? Cheerleading?¡± She grins at thatst one. Miranda is beyond thrilled that I¡¯m on the team with her girlfriend, Jessie. Well, I think they¡¯re dating anyway. Miranda¡¯s been pretty wishy-washy about it.


    ¡°The Bluebloods are too subdued,¡± I say, sitting down on the end of my bed with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m throwing everything I have at them, and they¡¯re just ¡­ sitting there. It¡¯s creepy, and it¡¯s making me nervous, and I¡¯m starting to think they¡¯re nning something big.¡± Miranda puts her phone down and pinches her lips tight.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to say you¡¯re wrong ¡­¡± she starts, and then grimaces. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯re dead-on with your assessment. They¡¯ve been quiet, but when they hit you, it¡¯s going to hurt.¡± I nod. Pretty much what I expected. Actually, I expected worse. It¡¯s a strange form of psychological terror knowing they¡¯re holding back on me.


    ¡°How¡¯s Creed been doing?¡± I ask, trying to sound super casual. In reality, I want to hear that he¡¯s suffering, that he felt he made a mistake, that he-


    ¡°Dating that awful Valentina girl,¡± Miranda spits, practically choking on the words. She tucks some blond hair behind her ear. ¡°He stole her from John Hannibal, but only because it was a game. He doesn¡¯t like her.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem to matter much around here,¡± I murmur, touching a finger to the ice-blue dress in my closet, the one Creed sent me for the graduation g, the dance where I definitely did not choose him. Thinking about it now, I wonder if I made a mistake, if I should¡¯ve refused to pick between the boys and- Groaning, I lean my forehead against the door of the wardrobe. Really? I¡¯m concerned about Creed¡¯s and Tristan¡¯s feelings now, after everything? How they felt when I walked in that room holding Zayd¡¯s hand is freaking irrelevant.


    I m the wardrobe closed and turn around.


    ¡°Is she the prettiest? Does she have the most money? Is her family name old and well-established? Can her parents¡¯pany get something from your parents¡¯pany, or vice versa? Because those all seem to be more important reasons than love or even like when ites to marrying for the super-rich.¡±


    ¡°Probably something to do with the stupid Club,¡± Miranda scoffs, flicking her finger across her phone screen. Pretty sure she¡¯s on Tinder, scoping out


    girls. Now that we¡¯re both cool with hering out, she¡¯s been obsessing over girls the way I obsessed over the Idol boysst year. I wonder if I was that sappy and hormone ridden? Yep, yep, I definitely was. ¡°My dad actually wants me to join it. My mom says no way.¡± She nces up and lets a soft smile fall across her lips. ¡°You know, she¡¯s excited to see you tomorrow.¡±


    I grimace and turn away. I will never forget Kathleen Cabot¡¯s face on that awful day, the way she looked at her son, like he was the scum of the earth, the way she fell on her knees in the principal¡¯s office and cried while apologizing to me. ording to Kathleen, I was her student, her responsibility, so how could she let this happen? I don¡¯t me her at all, but I know she mes herself.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m excited to see her, too ¡­¡± I trail off and check my phone, tapping my thumb against the side. A whole year ago, Zack appeared from the back of that academy car, climbing out behind my dad. He helped him when he was drunk, and he told me ¡­ ¡°Your dad got some newsst night.¡± An entire yearter, and I still don¡¯t know what that news is, and Dad¡¯s acting weirder than ever. He¡¯s still trying to force a rtionship with Jennifer, and he gave me Grandma¡¯s bracelet with his wedding band on it ¡­ I don¡¯t like it, not any of it.


    I tap out a quick message to Zack: Meet me in The Mess.


    He responds almost instantly: Already there. Join me?


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say suddenly, lifting my gaze up to meet Miranda¡¯s blue one. ¡°I¡¯m going to go talk to Zack in The Mess for a while. Are you okay in here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll hang out and wait for you,¡± she says, leaning back into my pillows and making herselffy. I grab a sweater and leave her there, knowing that the cameras will catch any suspicious activity. I want with all my heart to believe Miranda¡¯s innocent in everything that¡¯s gone on here at Burberry Prep, but I don¡¯t think I can know that for sure, not just yet. If she does nothing while I¡¯m gone, that¡¯ll help go a long way towards easing my distrust.


    I make my way through the halls as quick as I can. As much as I¡¯m ready to stand up to the Bluebloods, I can¡¯t fight off a dozen people by myself. Fortunately, I manage to slip into the dining hall without anyone seeing me.

 99

    Zack¡¯s the only one there, sitting by himself at a table near the window. I make my way over and flop down in the seat across from him. His dark eyes lift up from his te, but only briefly before he refocuses on his food. He¡¯s a


    huge guy, and he works out constantly, so that means he also eats like a horse. He¡¯s polite about it, but it¡¯s almost fascinating to see how quickly he can make food disappear.


    ¡°This is unusual,¡± he says finally, after we¡¯ve sat in silence for several minutes, and I¡¯ve ced my order with the waiter. Tonight I¡¯m having steak with chimichurri butter, asparagus, and garlic cheddar biscuits. Fancy.


    ¡°What is?¡± I ask, my heart beating as he sits up and slips out of his letterman jacket, revealing a tight white wifebeater underneath. It looks like it¡¯s about to rip in half it¡¯s so tight. Or maybe that¡¯s just wishful thinking? Why does Zack have to have such rock-hard biceps and broad shoulders? It¡¯s infuriating.


    ¡°You,ing to see me.¡± He sets his fork down and then signals the waiter over with a dessert menu. Have I mentioned how amazing the desserts are here? They serve things like Freme brulee and tiramisu and bread pudding. All so very fancy. Back home in the Train Car with Dad, dessert is about as eclectic as dinner: pudding cups from the fridge, brownies from the bakery section of the supermarket, or if we¡¯re feeling adventurous then ice cream from the shop down the road. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    I consider thanking him for helping me get on the team, but then I remember the cruel darkness in his eyes when heid into Ileana, and I¡¯m just not sure I have it in me. Leaning forward, I put my palms on the table and school my face into the most serious expression I can manage.


    ¡°Last year, when Dad got drunk during Parents¡¯ Week, what did he tell you?¡± Zack goespletely still, his dark eyes lifting up to mine. There¡¯s something strange about the way he¡¯s looking at me that makes my stomach flip over with nausea. It¡¯s bad. Whatever it is, it¡¯s so, so bad.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t told you?¡± he asks carefully, and I almost choke on my water as I struggle to take a sip. I push the ss aside and lean even farther forward.


    ¡°Zack, what the hell is going on?¡± He lets out a string of frustrated curses, and then sits back suddenly in the chair, running his palm over his short, dark hair. He looks like he wants to throw something. His teeth are clenched tight, his right hand is gripping the table for dear life, and I swear there¡¯s a bead of sweat that forms on his temple and runs down the side of his face. ¡°You¡¯re scaring me.¡±Content provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    He looks at me for a long moment, and then sighs.


    ¡°I can¡¯t lie to you, but I can¡¯t tell you the whole truth either. For that, you¡¯ll have to talk to your dad.¡± He leans back in his chair and just looks at me, this dark, broody asshole thing going on that I shouldn¡¯t like, but sort of do anyway. He¡¯s as bad as the rest of them, I remind myself, worse maybe. ¡°You know your parents are having an affair, right?¡±


    I just stare at him unblinking for several seconds. ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°Charlie and Jennifer are seeing each other behind Adam Carmichael¡¯s back.¡± He smiles tightly, but there¡¯s no warmth there. Sympathy, maybe, but that¡¯s it. My mouth opens, closes, opens again. No wordse out though. How the hell does Zack know that? Why would my dad confide something like that in him?


    I decide to ask.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but ¡­ how do you know that?¡± I lean forward, putting my forearms on the table. Zack watches me carefully, like he¡¯s trying to absorb my every movement. The attention makes me feel fidgety, and I wiggle in my seat, refusing to think about that time I wiggled in Creed¡¯sp ¡­ Ahem. ¡°I mean, why would my dad tell something like that to a high school student?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡± Zack shrugs his massive shoulders. That seems to be his go- to response to everything. ¡°I came over once to help him fix a leak in the roof and walked in on them ¡­¡±


    He trails off, and I add with a dry note to my voice, ¡°kissing?¡± Zack raises his dark brows at me, but then smiles a little.


    ¡°Something like that. Anyway, he said they were in love and they¡¯d been seeing each other.¡± Zack looks down at his empty te as the waiteres back to deliver my food and take his dessert order. Then, of course, he ms up and leans back in his seat, like that¡¯s all there is to say on the matter.


    ¡°So the news he received ¡­?¡± Because even if Zack is telling the truth- which I¡¯m not sure of-then what drove my dad to drink during Parents¡¯ Weekst year? Clearly, he would already be aware that he was having an affair with Jennifer, even though it¡¯s news that would drive me to drink. ¡°Maybe ¡­ she was going back to that Carmichael guy?¡± Zack just stares at me, and I groan in frustration.


    ¡°That¡¯s all you¡¯re going to tell me, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He smiles, and it¡¯s a much prettier smile, so much so that I feel a bead of sweat run down my spine. Yikes. I¡¯m not entirely sure he¡¯s ever smiled at me


    like that before.


    ¡°Are you excited for your first game?¡± he asks me, and I narrow my eyes. Coach Hannah has been working us hard for thest week, and I expect that even though this is Parents¡¯ Week, she¡¯s going to be working us just as hard, if not harder. Newbies weren¡¯t allowed to cheer at Friday¡¯s game, but Parents¡¯ Week culminates with the final game of the season for Burberry Prep¡¯s new all-star football team. Just adding Zack to varsity has shaken up the entire school; it¡¯s like we actually have some pride in sports now. Of course, the cheerleading team is so green there is no JV/varsity distinction at this point, but that¡¯s not why I joined. I don¡¯t actually care for sports at all.


    ¡°Mm.¡± I make a nonmittal noise and Zack chuckles, picking up his fork to poke at his tiramisu. What spoiled brats this school breeds. The only time I¡¯ve ever had tiramisu was when Dad worked two weekend jobs to save up to take me out to a fancy Italian dinner to celebrate making the honor roll in middle school. So yeah, it¡¯s been years. I decide the next time the waiter pops over, I¡¯ll order some, too.


    Because not only am I going to make honor roll again, I¡¯m going to steamroll right over Tristan to do it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be ying extra hard, knowing you¡¯re there to cheer me on,¡± Zack purrs-yeah, really, purrs-and I frown. If I didn¡¯t hold myself to higher standards, I¡¯d break his knee cap so he¡¯d be forced to sit out the game, and miss out on the scouts that are supposed to be showing up. Zack Brooks doesn¡¯t need scouts though, nobody at this school does. If any one of them actually decides to y for a university, it¡¯ll just be for fun. None of these guys is actually interested in a career in the NFL. NFL yers are poorpared to the worth of the average Burberry Prep yers¡¯ family.


    ¡°Oh, trust me,¡± I tell him as I pick up my fork and stab it dramatically into my b of steak. I¡¯m smiling when I cut into it. ¡°I won¡¯t be cheering you on. I¡¯m just there for intel. I hear the Idols have gone to every game this year.¡± Lifting my eyes from my te, I see Zack clenching his jaw. He¡¯s moved pieces of his tiramisu around his te, but has yet to actually eat any of it. A chill travels down my spine. ¡°They hate sports. Last year, they didn¡¯t go to a single sporting event, except once or twice to see Gena swim.¡± I cock my head to one side. ¡°And they really hate you, so ¡­ I¡¯m guessing this has something to do with the Infinity Club?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you learned your lesson with the Infinity Club?¡± Zack whispers, and then he¡¯s standing up and pushing away from the table. He grabs his


    letterman jacket off the back of his chair and storms out of the room.


    Bingo.


    Looks like I hit a nerve.


    Zack needs to win this game on Friday, I¡¯ll bet.


    And I really need t


    o have a conversation with Charlie.

 100

    The next morning, I¡¯m up bright and early, using the iron in my room to smooth out the pleats in my white skirt and jacket. The second-year uniform is one of my favorites, all of that crisp white linen with just a touch of color in the red of the tie, the shiny ck of the shoes, and the little stripes of ck and red on the elbows of the jacket and the tops of the socks.


    Just for fun, I put on the ne Tristan gave me. I imagine it¡¯ll mess with his head, making him wonder how exactly I ended up getting it back. Knowing that Dad¡¯s likely to bete, I hold back and wait to head for the courtyard until I¡¯m sure most of the other students will have cleared out. I¡¯m out for blue blood this year, and I¡¯m willing to take punches to get it, but I won¡¯t ept any attacks from those assholes that are directed at my father.


    On my way down the hall, I notice that one of the office doors is open. It¡¯s of note to me because Ie down this way all the time and never once have I seen it open. In fact, it¡¯s usually locked. The school staff has officially moved into the new outbuildings, and nobody uses the old chapel offices anymore.


    ¡°You¡¯ve disappointed me, son.¡± I hear a patronizing tone that sets me on edge. It¡¯s so frustratingly condescending that it makes my teeth hurt. Even though I know I shouldn¡¯t, I end up creeping forward to peep in the ss window on the door.


    What I see in there makes me raise my brows.


    Tristan¡¯s standing with his back straight, his face frozen into an expression of bored disinterest. Unlike Creed, however, he doesn¡¯t quite manage to pull it off. Actually, for the first time ever, he looks truly terrified beneath the mask. Even when he saw his dad¡¯s car floating in the pool, it wasn¡¯t this bad.


    Tristan Vanderbilt is scared of something, huh?


    Apparently, he¡¯s scared of ¡­ his dad?


    The man sitting on the edge of the old desk looks like a mature-and if possible Frueler-version of his son. He¡¯s got that same raven-dark hair, those gray eyes, and a smile like a snake. The moment Iy eyes on him, I know he¡¯s bad news. Guess the apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree.


    Tristan doesn¡¯t say anything, just stands there and stares his father down. There¡¯s the slightest quiver in his shoulders that doesn¡¯t seem right. Is he actually trembling? That¡¯s when I notice the slight glisten of red at the corner of his mouth. Is that ¡­ blood?


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Tristan says, and that¡¯s it, just those two words. His uniform is as perfectly pressed as always, just sharp lines and creases that could cut. His tie is straight, his jacket buttoned, his hair smooth and shiny. But his eyes are disturbingly empty. Even his usual cruelty is missing. ¡°I messed up.¡±


    Mr. Vanderbilt sighs and taps his fingers against the leg of his immactely pressed suit. Just like his son, there¡¯s not a single thread, button, or hair out of ce. And there¡¯s no doubt in my mind that his suit costs more than my father¡¯s yearly sry.


    ¡°I¡¯m still struggling to understand how my car ended up in a swimming pool.¡±


    Tristan flinches, and my heart begins to race. If he hasn¡¯t ratted me out yet, he¡¯s not going to. But still ¡­


    ¡°I told you: it was a senior prank.¡± His voice is cold, empty, dark.


    After a moment, Mr. Vanderbilt goes to reach for something in his pocket, and Tristan flinches like he¡¯s been struck. But all his dad does is produce a ck box with a little crown on the top. He passes it over to his son, and Tristan takes it warily, cracking the top to reveal a ck and red Rolex watch. He turns it over and I see a custom engraved infinity symbol on the back.


    Well, damn.


    ¡°A senior prank?¡± Mr. Vanderbilt asks as he takes the box back, removes the watch, and gestures for his son to hold out his arm. ¡°And how, exactly, did the seniors get my car out of our garage in Los Angeles?¡±This material belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    Tristan says nothing, just lets his dad put the watch on for him.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen the ss rankings posted yet. Have you?¡± Mr. Vanderbilt¡¯s voice just drips with menace; the high cheekbones and straight, ridged nose


    that look so regal on his son be viinous when he reaches out and snatches Tristan by the tie, yanking him close.


    Tristan simply licks the blood from the corner of his mouth and stares his father down.


    ¡°You are a Vanderbilt, son. This country was built on our dime and our whims. Do I need to reiterate the shame you bring on our entire family, on thepany, when you let yourself lose tomoner trash?¡±


    My mouth drops open, and my entire body goes ice-cold.


    Based on Tristan¡¯sck of empathy, I just sort of assumed his family was awful, but seeing it in person? I¡¯m gobsmacked. Despite my dad¡¯s many faults, I love him and he loves me. I can¡¯t even imagine being treated like this by him. Hell, I can¡¯t even imagine Jennifer treating me like this.


    ¡°I understand, Father,¡± Tristan whispers as his dad releases him abruptly, and he stumbles.


    ¡°Good. Then get out there and check the roster. If I don¡¯t like what I see, this isn¡¯t going to be a pleasant week for you, son.¡± Tristan nods, and then turns abruptly, heading for the door so quickly that I don¡¯t have time to scramble out of the way.


    All I manage to do is back away from the door, so that it¡¯s somewhat usible that I was just walking by.


    Tristan freezes in ce, and a hundred emotions work their way across his face before he shuts them all down and just stares at me with a storm gray gaze.


    ¡°Hey.¡± It¡¯s the only word that¡¯lle out of my mouth.


    After a moment, I hear Mr. Vanderbilt answer his phone, falseughter ringing out from the open door. Tristan pushes it closed with a palm, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths that don¡¯t


    show on that stoic face of his.

 101

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask, even though I know I shouldn¡¯t bother. He was horrible to me, the worst of all the Idols. And yet ¡­ I can¡¯t control that small surge of empathy. Tristan turns on me in an instant, storming across the hall. I end up backing up, even though I don¡¯t mean to.


    He gets right up in my face, jaw clenched, anger surging through him in waves.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    Without a word, he reaches up and snatches the ne from my throat, breaking the chain in the process. My heart is racing so hard and fast that I can barely breathe. When he turns and storms over to the trash can, I¡¯m left


    gaping as he yanks the Rolex off his wrist and shoves both pieces of jewelry as deep into the bin as he can get them, staining the sleeve of his perfect white jacket with something red that I think is ketchup. But then he sniffles and I realize that blood is actually running from his nose. It drips onto his chest and sleeve as he turns back to face me.


    ¡°Do not talk to me, Charity,¡± he snaps, practically grinding his teeth. ¡°Do not look at me. Don¡¯t even think about me. If you do, I¡¯ll break you worse than Zack did. And I won¡¯t be there to make you throw up the pills when I¡¯m done.¡± He spins on his heel and storms down the hallway, leaving me gaping behind him.


    What the hell was that all about?!


    I flip him off behind his back ¡­ and then I dig through the garbage again.


    I know things are going to get bad for me this week when I step into the courtyard with the stag statue and the fountain, and find Harper du Pont deep in conversation with my father. Shit, I took too long.


    Moving as fast as I can, I close the distance between us and step up beside Charlie with a huge smile on my face.


    ¡°Dad.¡±


    ¡°Marnye-bear!¡± he says, giving me a huge hug. It feels so good to be in his arms that for a split-second, I forget that the queen bitch of Burberry Prep Academy is standing right next to us, her glorious brte hair blowing in the wind. My jaw clenches, but I manage to maintain a grimace, if not an actual smile. ¡°I was just talking to your friend, Harper.¡±


    ¡°Well, friend wouldn¡¯t quite be the right word.¡± It takes physical effort, but I resist the urge to tell Charlie that Harper is one of the ones who beat me, and that it was on her orders that it happened at all. I had that chance,st year, when I was questioned by the staff. They all saw what the boys did, how they threw the panties, but hardly anything came of it. Ratting the girls out would likely do little to nothing. No, I¡¯ll take my own revenge, thank you very much.


    As things stand, the only punishment the boys received was a p on the freaking wrist. They had their honors and letters from first year rescinded, and I¡¯m pretty sure the academy squeezed some fat donations from their parents. Once again, their money saved them from facing any consequences for their actions.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Charlie asks, looking between Harper and me with a confused expression on his gently wrinkled face. Harper smirks at me, but I could give a shit less. Instead, I reach under my shirt and pull out the ne. When Tristan ripped it from my neck, the sp snapped, but I simply tied the chain into a knot. Crafty, right?


    When her blue eyesnd on the pair of roses dangling on the end, I see her face light up with fury.


    ¡°Dad, among other ventures, Harper¡¯s family runs Myler Medical Technologies,¡± I begin as Harper res at me. ¡°Her sister took over as CEO about ten years ago, and slowly raised the price of the epinephrine injector pen from fifty dors per injector to six hundred for a two-pack. It raised thepany¡¯s profits to a record-level two billion dors per year, and her own sry to neen million.¡± I look from Harper to Charlie. ¡°You know how our neighbor was allergic to bees? And how her insurance wouldn¡¯t cover the price difference, so they went without? And then Erica ended up dying from


    -¡±


    Harper steps so close to me that I actually have to move back a space to keep her from touching me.


    ¡°Did your daddy tell you yet how he¡¯s gotte-stage colon and lung cancer? My family has kindly offered up medical care, free of charge, to help see him through it. Good luck, sweetie.¡± Harper leans in and kisses me on the cheek as my head spins, and I end up sitting on the bricks without even realizing that I¡¯ve fallen.


    My knees are bloody and Dad¡¯s trying to talk to me, but I can¡¯t hear anything but a ringing in my ears.


    Zack is there suddenly, his mother by his side, and they¡¯re both trying to help Charlie get me to my feet. I sag in their arms as they lift me up, my head spinning, my stomach twisted with nausea.


    ¡°It¡¯s not true,¡± I whisper, looking up and into my dad¡¯s brown eyes, so like mine that it¡¯s as if I¡¯m staring into a mirror. His hair is tousled by the wind, his smile so sweet and genuine that it feels impossible. It¡¯s impossible. My dad is not dying. He¡¯s not. I refuse to believe it. ¡°Please say it¡¯s not true.¡±


    I¡¯m sobbing now, and Zack¡¯s trying to put an arm around me. I jerk away from him and stumble.


    ¡°Honey, please sit down,¡± Dad says softly, but I need a minute. I just need one minute. I turn and run across the courtyard, passing a smirking Harper as I go.


    ¡°Please say it¡¯s not true,¡± she chortles as I sprint past.


    My feet skid on the bricks, and I whirl around, tears streaming down my face.


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± I grind out, and Harper tosses her hair.


    ¡°You heard me: your dad¡¯s dead without my family¡¯s charity. Try to be a little grateful, bitch.¡± Red shes across my vision, and before I can think better of it, Iunch myself at Harper. My right fist flies forward and hits her in her pretty face. There¡¯s a satisfying crack of cartge before blood begins to pour from her nose.


    I¡¯ve just broken Rule #1: No ViolenFe.


    But ¡­ my dad ¡­


    ¡°Charity!¡± a familiar voice calls out seconds before Zayd¡¯s arms wrap around me from behind. I il and struggle against him, throwing an elbow back that nails him right in the ribs. He grunts, but his tattooed arms stay tight around me. I hit him again and manage to break free before I¡¯munching myself at Harper and knocking her to the brick walkway.


    ¡°Marnye, stop!¡± Miranda and Kathleen Cabot appear with Creed close behind. He watches with that bored,zy look of his as the two women yank me off and haul me back several feet. Harper pushes up to her feet, smirking, blood running over her lips. She looks happy about what¡¯s just happened.


    And then I realize the mistake I¡¯ve made, and a small, sad sound slips past my lips.


    ¡°You are so done, Working Girl,¡± Harper crows, using the post near her to stay upright. I notice that nobody offers a hand out to her. My eyes dart around the gathered crowd, from Dad, Zack, and his mom, Robin, running up to us, and then over to Miranda, Kathleen, and Creed. Zayd is behind me, panting, his uniform as disheveled and wrinkled as always, his tie hanging loose and crooked. ¡°I¡¯m reporting you.¡±

 102

    Harper reaches up to rub some blood from her face.


    ¡°No, you will not,¡± Kathleen snaps, her voice so fierce that Harper¡¯s attention snaps over to her. ¡°There may not be an official report, but I know what you and your little friends did to Marnyest year. She had broken ribs


    and a cracked tooth. I¡¯m not usually a supporter of an eye-for-an-eye justice, but youngdy, if you don¡¯t walk away and clean yourself up right now, you¡¯ll be expelled right alongside her.¡±


    Harper gapes, her attention going from Kathleen to Robin to Charlie, and then back to me.


    ¡°That¡¯s true, Kathleen: it was Harper. Harper and several of her friends. I wouldn¡¯t want to drag anyone else into this.¡± Pause, breathe, get Fontrol of yourself. ¡°If you talk about my dad again,¡± I whisper, stepping forward so suddenly that Miranda doesn¡¯t get a chance to stop me before I spit the words in Harper¡¯s face, ¡°you¡¯ll be so fucking sorry.¡±


    And then I throw Miranda¡¯s hands off, push past Zayd and Creed, and disappear into the gardens.


    The first person to find me is Zack.


    I sigh as hees around the corner, and stay where I am, huddled on a stone bench and hugging my knees. All I can think about is Dad and how good of a heart he has, and how the world needs more men like him, not less. No, instead people like Mr. Vanderbilt get to thrive and prosper, and Dad works his whole life at jobs he hates, loves a woman who betrayed him, and gets struck down with the most horrible disease known to man.


    ¡°I hate cancer,¡± I tell Zack as he sits down beside me, dressed in his uniform with his letterman jacket over the top. He looks too good in it; it¡¯s not fair. I want to hate him, but I feel so alone right now. If Dad ¡­ without Dad ¡­ it¡¯s just me. I should really go find Miranda and Andrew, talk to them instead. But I just sit there with Zack a few inches away from me, his brown eyes focused on the grass at his feet, his shoulders hunched. ¡°This was the news you didn¡¯t want to tell me about, huh?¡±


    He nods, but he doesn¡¯t say anything at first. Several minutes pass before he speaks.


    ¡°Now all the Idols know. They¡¯re going to use Dad against me.¡± Zack purses his lips and sits up, looking over at me with a much softer gaze than


    usual. On Friday, I¡¯m going to destroy him. I almost feel bad about it. Maybe I should? But I can¡¯t forgive him so easily.


    ¡°If you ever need dirt on anyone in the Infinity Club, I probably have it. You know my dirt now, and Lizzie¡¯s. But there¡¯s so much more. You¡¯d be shocked at the things I could tell you.¡±


    I scoff at him.


    ¡°Maybe, but at what price? What do you want from me, Zack? If it¡¯s just guilt that¡¯s spurring you on, then you can stop. I don¡¯t need your sympathy or your pity.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not pity, Marnye. You¡¯re beautiful, you¡¯re smart, you¡¯re driven. What¡¯s there to pity?¡± He says it all like it¡¯s a matter of fact, that of Fourse I¡¯m all of those things. I shift, ufortable with the praise. If I were a better person, I¡¯d let all of this revenge crap go, transfer to a different prep school and just keep my head buried in my studies.


    Something must be seriously wrong with me.


    ¡°And guilt? Of course I feel guilt,¡± Zack spits, running his palm over his dark hair. He exhales, and his broad shoulders fold inward, like he¡¯s trying to sink into himself. ¡°But that¡¯s not why I¡¯m trying to help you.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you?¡± I ask, looking up.


    Zack turns to me then, and there¡¯s something burning in his gaze that scares the crap out of me.


    ¡°Remember when we had our first kiss?¡± he asks, and I almost choke. ¡°Those feelings ¡­ they were terrifying to me. You can¡¯t feel like that when you¡¯re so young, and I-¡±


    I make a choking sound, and Zack pauses. It¡¯s Monday morning, and I haven¡¯t turned my phone in yet. It¡¯s clutched in my left hand, and I make a sudden, split-second decision to start recording, just in case. Zack waits several beats before taking a deep breath, and forging on.


    ¡°When I made that bet, I didn¡¯t think about the name and face of the girl who would die. I¡¯m sorry. A hundred times over, I¡¯m sorry. But I did it: I made that bet to get you to kill yourself, and I came at you relentlessly. There is no such thing as forgiveness for me.¡±


    My heart clenches painfully, but I¡¯m too twisted up with emotion right now to understand how I¡¯m supposed to process that. Instead, I turn away and change the subject, shutting my phone off at the same time.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°I need to find my dad,¡± I blurt, lunging to my feet. I stumble slightly, and Zack is there to steady my elbow. His touch burns through my jacket; it¡¯s as


    if his bare skin is touching mine. I can practically feel the whorls of his fingertips.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take you to him,¡± Zack says, his face shutting down into that imprable mask that I¡¯m used to. He starts to lead the way, and I pull out his grip. Instead of getting upset, he just smiles at me. ¡°By the way: have you seen the ss rankings yet?¡±


    I shake my head. Do I really care about ss rankings when my dad is sick? Honestly, all I want to do in that moment is drop out and go home, so I can take care of him. I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s why he¡¯s avoided telling me all this time. He¡¯s too freaking selfless. It¡¯s not fair. My eyes water and Zack reaches out to rub a tear from my cheek with his thumb, trailing strange sensations across my skin.


    ¡°You beat Tristan Vanderbilt again,¡± he says with a low chuckle, and I almostugh. Almost. But nothing in this world is more important to me than my father. Nothing. ¡°You¡¯re number one again.¡±


    ¡°Number one?¡± I echo, and my heart drops into my stomach. If I¡¯m number one ¡­ then why do I feel like I¡¯ming in deadst?


    I close my eyes, exhale, and then open them back up. I¡¯ve never needed to be stronger than in this moment.


    Squaring my shoulders, I take the


    lead and head back to the chapel.

 103

    Dad won¡¯t talk to me about his illness. If I bring it up, he changes the subject. If I cry, he holds me tight. He most definitely does not get drunk this year.


    On Friday, just before the big game, he cups the side of my face with one of his rough palms and gazes lovingly into my eyes. My throat gets tight, and I choke on unshed tears.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he begins, his voice soft, ¡°you¡¯ve always known what you¡¯ve wanted, even as a little kid. You went through a hard time in middle school, and yet you never stopped fighting. You got this schrship on your own merit, and you do nothing but continue to exceed my expectations.¡±


    ¡°Dad-¡± I start, but he cuts me off.


    ¡°As a boy, I dreamed of going to a school like this. There was an all-boys academy just outside the town I grew up in called Adamson. I fantasized about going there every day, but I never tried to change my circumstances; I just epted them.¡± I try to speak again, but he shushes me gently. ¡°All week, you¡¯ve been hinting that you want toe home and take care of me. I don¡¯t want that for you.¡±


    ¡°Nothing is more important to me than you,¡± I choke out, but Dad¡¯s already shaking his head. Everything makes sense now: his gifting me his mother¡¯s bracelet, trying to force a rtionship with Jennifer, his getting drunkst year at Parents¡¯ Week. It¡¯s alling together into this horrible conclusion that I just want to wake up from.


    ¡°And nothing is more important to me than you, Marnye-bear, but you¡¯ve got your whole life ahead of you. I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to be there for as much of it as I can, but you Fannot give up this opportunity. I won¡¯t let you.¡± He sighs and drops his hand to his side. He¡¯s so different from all the other parents in their expensive suits, designer clothing, and fancy high heels. Charlie Reed wears raggedy old jeans, the watch I got him for Christmasst year, and scuffed work boots. It only makes me love him more that he wears it all with pride. ¡°I see the way they look at you.¡±


    ¡°Like they hate me and want me dead?¡± I ask, and Dad smiles softly. ¡°Like they¡¯re jealous, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°Jealous of me?¡± I echo with disbelief. ¡°With their Lamborghinis and their yachts and their mansions?¡± I sound so pathetic when I say that, it makes even me cringe. I know better than anyone that money isn¡¯t what makes a person happy. Dad makes me happy; learning makes me happy; friendship makes me happy.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°Money can¡¯t buy confidence or love or genuine sense of self. Marnye, you are better than their superficial shit.¡± I raise my eyebrows because I¡¯ve rarely, if ever, head my dad curse around me. ¡°Honey, the best revenge is sess. Remember that. Keep doing your thing, and make me proud. That¡¯s what I want for you. Make a better life for yourself than the one I gave you.¡± ¡°You gave me a great life,¡± I blurt, and Dadughs, pulling me in for a hug. I¡¯m wearing my new cheerleading uniform: a polyester shell with long sleeves, and red and white stripes under the word Burberry sewn into the front, paired with a short ck skirt and sneakers. Underneath, I¡¯ve got on shiny ck shorts with the school logo on the right butt cheek. Seems a weird ce to put it, but it is what it is. The ufortable material rubs me


    the wrong way as Dad gives me a squeeze for the ages.


    He pulls back and puts his hands on my shoulders.


    ¡°My little girl, a cheerleader,¡± he says, and then he chuckles as I narrow my eyes. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just doing it for college,¡± I repeat, and then silently add in my head and revenge. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s good exercise.¡± Dad grins at me and hooks an arm around my shoulders, trying to head us in the wrong direction. Iugh and turn him around, guiding him to the back door and the waiting academy cars. The football field is so far from the chapel building that it takes a good half hour to walk down there. Some people left a while ago to head down, but Dad and I ate in The Mess together, and I refused to be rushed.


    ¡°Whatever the reason, I¡¯m excited to see you perform,¡± he says, leading us out to the vehicle. We slide in, and the driver moves to shut the door when I hear a voice call out to hold the car.


    It¡¯s Zayd fucking Kaiser. Great.


    He climbs in, and then freezes when he sees my dad and me.


    A frown pulls at the edges of my lips, but then the driver is shutting the door, and it¡¯s a bitte to back out. Dad must recognize Zayd as one of the panty-throwers because he does not smile at him or greet him.


    Zayd slumps down on the opposite side of the limo, dressed in a white tank with his band¡¯s name-Afterglow-scrawled in ck cursive across the front. His jeans are ck, and far too tight, which I actually like. He¡¯s got on Doc Martens covered in roses, and I¡¯m pretty sure he added a few new tattoos over the summer. My fingers remember tracing his ink as we made out in my dorm room. Of course, he was doing it all just to film it and humiliate, but ¡­ that¡¯s a whole other issue.


    ¡°Your dad cares so little about you he didn¡¯t bother to show up again?¡± I ask, and Charlie gapes at me.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he warns, but that¡¯s the only chastising I get.


    Zayd just stares back at me, his lids ringed in liner, his lip piercings ck and pointy, his brow piercing a ck hoop. He nibbles at his lip rings for a moment before responding.


    ¡°He¡¯s got a job that people actually care about,¡± Zayd snaps back, and I can tell I¡¯ve hit a nerve. Good. Screw him. I Fhose him. I chose him and he betrayed me. It makes everything so much worse. His characteristic tobo, clove, and sage scent fills the air in the limo, and my nostrils re. ¡°He¡¯s not, like, you know, some easily receable blue cor worker that could be substituted with


    a monkey or a machine.¡±

 104

    ¡°At least my dad has a heart and gives two craps about me,¡± I snarl, and Charlie puts a hand on my knee. ¡°Musicians are a dime a dozen. Your dad is nothing but a performing monkey dressed in tattoos and the words of some ghost writers who pen hits for the masses. Give me a break.¡±


    Zayd scowls at me, shoving up from his seat and pushing open the door while the car¡¯s still rolling to a stop. He takes off as Dad sighs and gives me a look. I cringe, but only because I¡¯m frustrated that he had to listen to this bullshit. Zayd deserves whatever I throw at him.


    The football stadium is huge, much fancier than you¡¯d expect for a high school. Actually, it reminds me of that one time Dad took us to a U of O home game at Autzen Stadium in Eugene, Oregon. It¡¯s far too borate, especially considering that before this year, our team was ranked, like, deadst in their district.


    Zack has changed all of that.


    If they win tonight¡¯s game, they¡¯ll be going to the yoffs. I¡¯m going to make sure that doesn¡¯t happen.


    Tonight, we¡¯re ying Grenadine Heights High-the number one team in our district for almost two straight decades. It¡¯s sort of a big deal.


    Dad leaves me to go take his seat in the stands while I join Coach Hannah and the rest of the girls just outside the entrance to the stadium. The way they look at me as I saunter up to them ¡­ priceless. Ileana curses under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear, but not enough that the coach notices.


    Coach runs us through our warm up and stretches, my heart racing, sweat dripping down my spine. And it¡¯s from more than just the exercise-I¡¯m about to wreck Zack Brooks¡¯ football career, and bring down the rest of the team with him.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I might move slow, but I¡¯m a nner. It¡¯s what I do.


    After we warm up, we head into the stadium and take up our positions at the edge of the field. As far as coach is concerned, games are practice. We¡¯re gearing up forpetition. When the Burberry Prep football team is licking their wounds, I¡¯ll be helping their cheer team get their first ever trophies.


    The timing was delicate on this one, so I shift from side to side, ncing briefly up at the scoreboard and the clock. The minutes tick past slow as hours as we gear up for our first ever cheer. I¡¯m a bit of an academic and a bookworm, and this is so not my scene, but I force a smile. It¡¯s hard, though, with Tristan, Zayd, and Creed in the audience. I can see them, front and center, nked by the Inner Circle. Pretty sure they¡¯re all staring at me.


    As we start our routine, I notice that Coach Hannah¡¯s phone is buzzing. My mouth twitches, half in grimace and half in grin.


    If I¡¯d wanted to, I could¡¯ve done any number of things to Zack Brooks, something like spiking his food or drink with steroids and reporting him. But that¡¯s not my game here. I don¡¯t want to bring myself down to their level. Does it make things harder? Sure. When I sat down and made those rules though, I was serious.


    Let them hang themselves with their own rope.


    If they didn¡¯t fuck with me, if they stopped fucking with me, then nothing bad would happen to them.


    Coach Hannah nces from her screen and up to me, my arms in the air, my tight polyester shell riding slightly up. She turns to her assistant coach, and I see them whisper briefly. In the stand, Principal Collins has her gray brows raised, her mouth slightly agape. And as we finish our cheer, I nce over my shoulder and see the varsity football coach-Buck Rnds- calling Zack off the field.


    Zack jogs over, pulling off his shiny ck helmet, his brows crinkled, his big, muscr body made to look evenrger with all the pads he¡¯s wearing. He pauses next to his coach and nces down at the video on the phone screen.


    His face goes shock-white before he nces over at me and meets my eyes. I smile, but it¡¯s not a pretty smile. No, it¡¯s one of those fuFk you smiles that the Idols have given me countless times in the past year and a half.


    What goes around Fomes around, I think as Principal Collins makes her way down the steps, and the crowd begins to buzz with gossip. I¡¯ve sent the same video to every member of staff. It wasn¡¯t hard to get their numbers. Actually, because this is a boarding school, every student is given an emergency list of the staff¡¯s personal cell numbers in case of an ident or emergency during off-hours. Using it for a non-emergency is strict grounds for suspension, but I have that covered: I used a burner phone.


    Remember those imperative items that I just had to shop for? Yeah, well, that was on the list.


    A hushed argument is carried out between Principal Collins, Vice Principal Castor, Coach Rnds, and, a few momentster, Zack¡¯s mother, Robin. All I¡¯ve ever seen or heard about that woman is that she¡¯s nice to a fault. I used to wonder, back at LBMS, how she ever created such a monster as Zack Brooks. I hear his father and grandfather are real pieces of work, but Robin was never anything but nice to me, even when her son was bullying me to the point of suicide.


    The look on Zack¡¯s face as she watches that video ¡­ it almost hurts me.


    I toyed with this for a while, wondering if it broke rules two and three: No friendly fire and No innoFent bystanders. But ¡­ all I did was reveal the truth.


    Briefly, I close my eyes. I don¡¯t need to see the video to know that it says.


    There¡¯s Zack, telling me to kill myself and filming it. He sent me the video, too, all those years ago, emailed it to me, so I could watch it over and over again. I never told anyone. Not once. But I still had it, buried under years of other emails.

 105

    It¡¯s followed by his voice, from just a few days ago. When I made that bet, I didn¡¯t think about the name and faFe of the girl who would die. I¡¯m sorry. A hundred times over, I¡¯m sorry. But I did it: I made that bet to get you to kill yourself, and I Fame at you relentlessly. There is no suFh thing as forgiveness for me.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Let¡¯s see how this zero tolerance bullying policy works.


    Zack¡¯s face falls as his mother turns to him, looking at her son like she doesn¡¯t even recognize him. His helmet falls from his fingers, and within minutes-minutes-phones all across the stadium are pinging with the link to the video. Students share it with each other, leaning their heads together and whispering. Parents see it. It¡¯s out there, and it can¡¯t be taken back.


    My heart is racing so fast that I feel dizzy, and everyone is looking at me now.


    ¡°May I use the restroom?¡± I ask Coach Hannah, and she blinks stupidly at me. There¡¯s pity and sympathy in her gaze now, but I don¡¯t care. She nods, and I push past the other girls, heading for the long, dark tunnel that leads from the locker rooms to the field.


    As soon as I¡¯m hidden in its shadowy depths, I lean my back against the wall, my breathing in panting gasps.


    When I hear footsteps, I don¡¯t expect to see Zack storming down the hall, his face dark and drawn in. He sees me and pauses close, too close, so close that I can see the pain in his eyes. I expect, like Zayd, for him to throw his hurt back in my face.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ying in tonight¡¯s game,¡± he whispers, and we both know that that means: Burberry Prep will lose. ¡°And I¡¯m off the team.¡± I purse my lips, and he closes his eyes, his head sagging, chin falling to his chest. ¡°In-school suspension, at a minimum. No off-campus privileges. My Mom¡¯s going to disown me.¡± He groans and crouches down, putting his hands over his face. For a moment, I just watch him. ¡°They¡¯re going to discuss the rest of my punishment on Monday.¡±


    ¡°You deserve it, every single scrap of it,¡± I tell him, pulling back a few inches, like I¡¯m afraid he¡¯s going to strike out at me. Zack stands up


    suddenly and tears his jersey over his head, dumping his shoulder pads to the floor with a growl.


    When he turns to me, he¡¯s shirtless and sweaty and glorious. Too bad I hate him.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he blurts suddenly, and my eyes go wide with shock. ¡°Ex-excuse me?¡±


    Zack takes several steps towards me and pauses, swiping his palm down his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Marnye, you¡¯re right.¡± He drops his hands by his sides, and it¡¯s freaking impossible for me not to notice how muscr his arms are, how rounded his biceps, how t his chest. My breath hitches as he takes a step forward, and I cross my arms over my chest to keep myself in check. Zack¡¯s eyes drop down to my waist, and his brows go up. When he reaches out to me, my heart stops in my chest. He takes the edge of my skirt and with a little tug, pulls me forward. His fingers dive under my waistband, searing me with wicked hot heat and dragging my waistband down just far enough that he can see my tattoo.


    He lets out a long string of curses, his voice so dark it¡¯s almost scary. ¡°Marnye, what is this?¡±


    ¡°The Infinity Club,¡± I start, sucking in a deep breath and puffing out my chest. I wish he¡¯d take his fingers away. It feels good for him to touch me like that, and that¡¯s thest thing I want. I won¡¯t let myself get soft on these guys. There¡¯s nothing sexy or cool or endearing about being an asshole. If this were a bully romance, well, I¡¯d probably end up marrying Miranda because I just don¡¯t abide by bullies. ¡°They¡¯re going to learn that they can¡¯t treat people like coteral damage.¡±


    Zack rubs his knuckles against my tattoo, and curses again before lifting his eyes to mine.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re getting yourself into,¡± he whispers, and I purse my lips. I know that, and yet ¡­ I can¡¯t seem to control myself. These rich a-holes need to learn that a person is a person, no matter the size of their bank ount. There¡¯s no such thing as Social Darwinism or royalty or Idols, it¡¯s all a facade, a bunch of bullshit that lets certain people get a free pass for throwing away their humanity. ¡°You don¡¯t have the resources or the insider knowledge to take down the club.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± I start, and Zack leans in toward me, so close that I can see his pulse thundering in his throat, can trace the beads of sweat running down his


    muscr chest.


    ¡°But I do,¡± he says, and his eyes fall to my lips. My body trembles as his huge form towers over me, his knuckles stroking my tattoo. Damn hormones. He leans in a little bit closer. ¡°I can help you, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m never going to fall for you,¡± I blurt, but my eyes can¡¯t seem to look anywhere but the thickness of his lower lip. ¡°Never.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he whispers, closing his eyes and putting his forehead against mine. He¡¯s sweaty, but I don¡¯t care. My palms somehow end up on the t nes of his chest, my fingertips curling against his damp, hot skin. ¡°Because I¡¯m in love with you, even though I know I¡¯m not good enough for you.¡± My heart stops in my chest, and my eyes go wide. My gaze transfers from his lips to his eyes, and it stays there; I can¡¯t look away. Zack puts his left hand over one of mine, pressing my skin against his. His right hand continues to stroke my tattoo. ¡°You want to know why I¡¯m helping you? Now you know. But you¡¯ll never be with me, and that¡¯s okay. Because I¡¯m not enough for you. I¡¯m the kind of person who tries to make a girl kill herself to get into some stupid club. All I want to do is try to make up for it, even if takes me the rest of my life.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± I whisper, but he just leans in even closer and puts his lips right up against mine. I can taste him now, right there on my mouth. I flick my tongue out and we both groan as I trace his lower lip. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you, and I don¡¯t believe you. Whatever you have to say, it¡¯s all bullshit to me.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he repeats, his mouth moving against mine. ¡°Maybe someday, you¡¯ll forgive me and we can be friends. Until then, let me help you.¡±


    I¡¯m panting; he¡¯s panting. We¡¯re sharing breaths.


    After a moment, Zack turns his head slightly to one side, and I follow his gaze.


    The Idols-all six of them-are standing there watching us.


    Tristan¡¯s face is hard, dead, cold. Creed¡¯s hands are curled into fists at his sides, belying the bored,zy expression in his half-lidded eyes. Zayd, he¡¯s just scowling openly, even as he¡¯s holding hands with Becky. It¡¯s so clear in their gazes how much they all hate Zack. Despise him, even. Looking back on that day at theke, I can see things as they really are. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and all that.


    They didn¡¯t tell me about Zack and Lizzie because they cared about me. They told me about Zack and Lizzie to hurt me. And hurt me they did.


    I turn back to Zack.


    ¡°Let me kiss you,¡± he whispers, and I realize then that I¡¯m trembling. I¡¯ve just destroyed this guy¡¯s football career, lost the big game for the academy, maybe even sent Zack running back to Lower Banks High. And yet ¡­ ¡°Let me help you, and I¡¯ll only go as far as you¡¯ll let me. We can take down the Infinity Club together.¡±


    ¡°Pretend to date you?¡± I ask, and he shrugs his big shoulders, his favored response to every question.


    ¡°Or just fucking kiss me.¡±


    My heartrate picks up speed, and a bead of sweat works its way between my breasts, tickling my skin. Zack moves his hand and tugs up the waistband of my skirt to hide my tattoo. He grabs hold of my hip then and pulls my body against him. Before I can think too hard about it, my hands are sliding up his chest and curling around his neck.


    Our mouths sh together in a rush of heat and desperation and need. It feels so good that it almost hurts.


    Zack¡¯s mouth is warm and soft, and he tastes like cherry Gatorade. He wraps his left arm around me and lifts me up against him, his tongue teasing mine, taking control of the kiss without being domineering. I tell myself I¡¯m only doing it because they¡¯re watching. That¡¯s what I tell myself, anyway. On the inside, I¡¯m melting.


    ¡°Well, well, it¡¯s the Working Girl doing what she does best,¡± Harper sneers, but I barely hear her. I¡¯m so wrapped up in Zack¡¯s big, strong arms, in the taste of his hot mouth on mine. Even if I hate him, even if I¡¯ve just gotten him expelled ¡­ this feels too good.


    And if it hurts the Bluebloods, then that¡¯s just the cherry on top.


    We stumble back into the wall, but I know I can¡¯t let this go any further.


    Zack must know it, too, because he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine for a moment. Both of us just breathe, slow in and outs. We¡¯re both trembling, even as he moves away from me and picks up his discarded jersey and pads.


    I don¡¯t look at the Bluebloods as I fix my uniform and brush my palm over my hair before exchanging a look with Zack. He gives me a grim smile before heading into the locker room, and I turn back for the field.


    ¡°Fucking whore,¡± Becky snarls as I pass, but I just pause and smile at her. ¡°Takes one to know one,¡± I say, and then I¡¯m sweeping past and heading


    back for the cluster of cheerleaders in their ck, red, and white uniforms. I


    know I¡¯m going to have to talk to Dad after about Zack, but that can wait.


    For now, I dance.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye Reed


    The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one


    two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)


    The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), BeFky tter (year one two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated), Ileana Taittinger (year one)


    The Inner CirFle: Andrew Payson, Anna KirkpatriFk, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner ¡­ and, I guess, me! Kiara Xiao, Ben


    Thresher


    Plebs: everyone else, sorry. XOXO


    Zack Brooks

 106

    Halloween is on a Thursday this year which makes partying difficult, especially with all the Bluebloods-and Zack-restricted to the Burberry Prep campus. ording to school gossip, there¡¯s going to be a party Friday night at the cemetery. Technically, that is on campus, so there¡¯s less risk of being discovering.


    ¡°I¡¯m over the ¡®slutty¡¯ theme,¡± Miranda says, flipping through a magazine as we sit in The Mess and binge on a colorful stack of macarons. ¡°For Halloween, I mean. Not that there¡¯s anything wrong with that, I just ¡­ feel like I¡¯d rather go as a giant bowl of popcorn than a sexy kitty, sexy firefighter, sexy nurse, or sexy warthog.¡±


    ¡°Warthog?¡± I choke, pounding on my chest with a fist and raising a brow. Miranda throws her head back andughs, the sound like the tinkling of bells. I notice Jessie Maker watching her and biting her lower lip. Those two


    ¡­ ¡°Whoever dressed as a sexy warthog?¡±


    ¡°Academy legend says that in the nies, when The Lion King first came out, that Ms. Felton came to school dressed as a sexy warthog, in furry panties, a furry bra, and tusks. The yearbook from that year is missing from the library which totally makes me think it¡¯s true.¡± She stuffs a pink cookie in her mouth and presents me and Jessie with the glossy page of the magazine.


    Ah, print is still alive and well on the Burberry Prep campus, particrly between Monday morning when we hand in our phones, and Friday evening


    when we get them back. Of course, I snuck a burner phone in here by hiding it in a box of tampons (of which I carefully used glue to reseal the p so it looked unopened). I¡¯m sure I¡¯m not the only student to have thought of that.


    I examine the costume-it¡¯s a giant bowl of popcorn made out of papier- mache that¡¯s totally not going to work considering Halloween is tomorrow- but it¡¯s cute.


    ¡°We could dress up as macarons,¡± I suggest, lifting one of the pretty cookies up to the light. ¡°You know, put some of that temporary dye in our hair, wear matching dresses and heels.¡±


    Miranda squeals and rises up from her seat, nearly knocking the macaron tower over as she throws her arms around my neck and practically strangles me in the name of hugging.


    ¡°That¡¯s such a cute freaking idea!¡± she gushes, eyes sparkling. ¡°And we all still have our off-campus privileges. We could go after school today, just run into town and grab a few things.¡± Miranda snaps her fingers as Andrew walks in, carrying his bookbag over his shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at her. ¡°But only if you go in full drag.¡±


    ¡°Drag ¡­ for what?¡± Andrew asks suspiciously, and Miranda tosses him a yellow cookie which he just barely catches.


    ¡°Halloween. I¡¯ll do your makeup, and we can get you a wig when we go out today. We¡¯re dressing as macarons, like all colorful and cute. You¡¯ll love it. Besides,¡± she waves her hand dismissively in his direction, totally lost in her own world, ¡°you¡¯ve been saying you wanted to try drag.¡±


    ¡°Um, try drag in private in a ce my dad would never-¡± Andrew stops abruptly as the door to The Mess opens and Zack walks in. My heart flip- flops in my chest, and my throat closes up to the point that it¡¯s hard to breathe. That kiss, that kiss, ah that fucking kiss ¡­ But I hate him. Piece of shit.


    I focus on my cookie and stuff it into my mouth. Unfortunately, it tastes like cherries which just reminds me of the taste of Zack¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Zack, will you do drag with Andrew?¡± Miranda asks as he pauses far too close to me. I can smell his cologne, this musky, sporty mix of citrus, mint, and cedar that drives me nuts. ¡°Like, full on makeup, wig, dress, heels.¡±


    Zack shrugs his broad shoulders.


    ¡°Yeah, why not? What is Halloween for if not for girls in short skirts and dudes in drag? I was going to go as Russell Brand, a Aldous Snow in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but this sounds better.¡± I nce up at him


    through the feather gold bangs that fall across my forehead. He looks back at me, and I have to hold back a sigh.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    I might¡¯ve gotten him good, but that doesn¡¯t mean I forgive him. My revenge on Zack Brooks is satisfied for now, but that¡¯s not going to magically clear the air between us. Not by a long shot.


    He was this close to being expelled. This freaking close. Because the video was from middle school, the academy didn¡¯t feel it had the grounds to take things quite so far, but Zack Brooks is on thin ice. Any grade less than a C or a scrap of proof that he¡¯s bullying this year, and he¡¯s out. As things stand, they took his letterman jacket away, kicked him off the varsity team, and gave him in-school suspension. He has no off-campus privileges, and Burberry Prep lost the game to Grenadine Heights. The entire football team hates Zack now, and my dad ¡­ Well, that was a tough one to deal with. I came too close to breaking those rules again. Scary close. I exined to my father that Zack and I had patched things up, but I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯ll be friends again. The way he looked at Zack after, that was almost punishment enough. I could see the pain in Zack¡¯s eyes.


    To distract myself from the hunky ex-football yer beside me, I pull out my journal, unlock it, and start writing. The others have learned not to bother me when I¡¯m penning my thoughts.


    Zack and Andrew pull up chairs, and the others talk about their costumes as I write.


    Less than fifteen minutester, Creed shows up. He¡¯s alone, but that doesn¡¯t matter.


    As soon as he sees Miranda with us, his ice-blue eyes narrow to slits. He saunters over to us with thatzy, rolling gait of his, like at any moment he might just lie down on the floor and take an angry nap. Yeah, I know, that doesn¡¯t really make sense, but I swear, that¡¯s what Creed looks like: a pissed-off narcoleptic.


    ¡°Miranda,¡± he says, and his sister stiffens up under his stare. ¡°Can I speak with you for a moment?¡±


    ¡°No, you may not, Creed,¡± she snaps back, lifting angry eyes to her twin¡¯s face. They¡¯re so simr in appearance, it¡¯s eerie. If I¡¯d never seen them in the same room, I might believe that they were one person, a shapeshifter who could swap genders. I once read a book called He & She where a woman would change genders every time she had an orgasm. That could be Creed and Miranda, two sides of the same coin.

 107

    ¡°I need you to get something off-campus for me tonight. It¡¯s for my costume.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should¡¯ve thought of that before you disyed such barbaric and despicable behavior?¡± Miranda quips, turning back to her tea and sipping it slowly. The metaphor in her actions isn¡¯t lost on me. Sip that tea, Miranda, I think with a grin.


    Creed notices my expression and turns to face me. I stare him down, curling my arm protectively around my journal, so he can¡¯t see the words written in it. Bet he¡¯d love that, to read it aloud to the academy the way he did with my essay.


    ¡°What¡¯s so damn amusing to you?¡± he drawls, as insouciant and dismissive as always.


    ¡°You, waltzing around the school like you think you¡¯re the prince. Maybe you are, but you¡¯ll never be king.¡± My grin rachets up a notch, as wide and maniacal as the Cheshire Cat¡¯s. ¡°Tristan will always rule this school. At best, you¡¯re second inmand. At best. Then again, your grades are trash, and you don¡¯t bother to apply yourself. At least Tristan can boast that much.¡±


    If only I could describe the way his body stiffens up, like he¡¯s suddenly carved of stone. Every wrinkle in his shirt, every crease in his cks, it all looks chiseled from limestone. When he opens his mouth, Miranda lunges up from her chair and gets in his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Just don¡¯t. Leave her alone, Creed. Mom¡¯s already disgusted with you. And now, after the incident with the Bentley, so is Dad. Don¡¯t dig yourself an even deeper hole.¡± Creed¡¯s blue eyes go wide, but he manages to school his expression quickly, and his gaze narrows back to that heavy- lidded bedroom look that he enjoys so much.


    He turns away from us and heads to the Idols¡¯ table, sitting down and snapping his fingers for the waiter. That motion alone drives me nuts. These people might work here, but they¡¯re not his personal freaking ves.


    ¡°Fucking creep,¡± Zack murmurs, but really, he doesn¡¯t have much room to talk, does he? And yet ¡­ when I look at him and he stares back, I can see in his eyes that he¡¯s sorry. And not just because I punished him. No, he was sorry long before that.


    I refocus on my journal, fully aware that Creed is watching me the entire time.


    Good.


    Let him watch.


    Because what I have nned for him requires his cooperation. Bet he gives it freely and willingly.


    ¡°I look ridiculous,¡± Zack says with augh, examining his sea green dress, heels, and wig in the mirror. He¡¯s such a big, bulky guy, I can¡¯t exactly disagree. I mp a hand over my mouth to stifle a chuckle, and he nces over his shoulder at me, batting his falsies in my direction. Laughter explodes from me anyway, and he grins. Usually, he¡¯s as reserved as Tristan, all dark and brooding and probably evil underneath, but right now ¡­ he¡¯s actually kind of cute. ¡°Andrew¡¯s the hot one. I¡¯d bang him, if I were into, uh, what¡¯s it called?¡±


    ¡°When two drag queens have sex? Is it kiki or kaikai?¡± Miranda taps her frosty pink lips with the tip of one finger. We even managed to squeeze getting our nails done inst night, so we¡¯ve got matching acrylics. Since Zack is banned from leaving campus, he got a sort of shitty paint job from Miranda this morning. It only helps add to the hrity of his look.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Oh my god, Miranda,¡± Andrew says, fluffing his pale blue wig in the mirror. ¡°Kiki is just a chat, a conversation. Kaikai is when two drag queens


    ¡­ you know ¡­¡±


    ¡°Fuck?¡± Miranda replies, and we all groan. She¡¯s so crass sometimes. ¡°You watch more RuPaul¡¯s Drag RaFe than anyone,¡± Jessie says, speaking


    up for the first time, and twirling so that her frothy white tulle skirts spin around her. Miranda watches, her gaze softening as she takes in the brte with an appreciative once-over. I hate to admit it, but Zack is looking at me in much the same way. ¡°You know the terms better than Andrew does.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± I say, still chuckling as I check my own hair in the mirror. My rose-gold hair is perfect, since I¡¯ve been designated the yellow, lemon- vored macaron. We¡¯re all wearing nes made of real cookies, and our perfume is coordinated to our specific vors. Actually, we make a pretty cute little group. ¡°So ¡­ we do the whole school thing,¡± I start, referencing the academy sponsored party in the gym, ¡°and then how do we get to the cemetery? I doubt sneaking the cars on campus is going to work.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to walk,¡± Miranda says with a groan, sticking her tongue out at her heels which, by the way, cost almost a thousand bucks. I bought my own shoes this time at an outlet store for thirty-five big ones. These are by far the priciest shoes I¡¯ve ever purchased for myself. Zack, Miranda, Andrew, and Jessie all offered to get me something else, but I refused.


    Despite what Tristan, Zayd, and Creed think, I am not a charity case.


    ¡°I can always carry you, if your feet hurt too much from dancing,¡± Zack says, and the way he¡¯s holding his face, the purr in his voice ¡­ it¡¯d be sexy if he didn¡¯t look so ridiculous in an ill-fitting dress with his massive muscr shoulders showing. Andrew actually looks sexy as hell. If I were into girls, I think I¡¯d be into him the way he¡¯s dressed now. Even Miranda whistled appreciatively when he came out of the bathroom for his big reveal. ¡°Thanks, but I think I can manage walking,¡± I reply, forcing a smile and running my palms down the front of my glittery yellow gown. ¡°Shall we?¡± I hold out my arm for Andrew, and he takes it. I notice Zack looking longingly at us, but technically, we¡¯ve decided that Miranda and Jessie are a couple for


    the night, and I¡¯m going with Andrew.


    Zack is ¡­ going stag. Good for him.


    The Halloween party looks much the same as it didst year. Only the first-years seem actually excited to be here. Everyone else is simply making an appearance and waiting for the real event to start. Amongst the cheesy disco balls and streamers, it¡¯s easy to spot the Idols at their table near the stage. They all stand out like sore thumbs, sucking the life from the room.

 108

    Well, at least that¡¯s how it feels to me.


    As soon as we walk in there, all eyes are on us. The Bluebloods continue to re as we scout out a table, grab some snacks, and sit down to chat. Their gazes in particr feel like they¡¯re burning into the back of my head. Freaking Tristan, Creed, and Zayd. Ugh. The girls havee at me plenty since heading back to Burberry, but I have yet to see those assholes make a move.


    That scares me.


    ¡°Harper¡¯s nose is still swollen,¡± Miranda whispers, and I grin, just before she drags me out on the dance floor and makes me work for it. Jessie joins us a whileter and steals my dance partner. Andrew, meanwhile, is off dancing with some cute first year guy, and I¡¯m left to grind it alone for a while.


    That is, until Zack shows up. I pause in my movements, my heart pounding so loud that I can hear it over the thumping bass of the music.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I say, and he smiles. It¡¯s a nice smile, too, one of the truest emotions I¡¯ve ever seen on his face. When the administrators asked me into the principal¡¯s office after the game and asked if I knew who had sent the video, I yed dumb. Outright lying isn¡¯t my thing, but they in no way suspected me, so it was easy to dodge their interrogation. What they had asked me was if I felt unsafe with Zack Brooks attending Burberry Prep.


    I¡¯d had to answer that direct question with a direct response.


    No, I don¡¯t feel unsafe.


    ¡°Hi,¡± he says back, and the music switches to a slow song, one that makes me feel like that swarm of butterflies is taking off inside of me again. I¡¯m all aflutter. ¡°May I have this dance?¡± I suck my lower lip under my teeth, and decide that even if he is a bit goofy in that green wig, he¡¯s still handsome. Closing my eyes, I remember dancing with Zayd at that partyst year, how our bodies had seemed to meld together. Will I ever feel that way with a guy again?


    I guess I could at least try to find out?


    I let Zack take my hand in one of his while the other falls respectfully to my waist. The floor clears of dancers, leaving only a few couples left to sway with the music. I giggle at first, because Zack in makeup just isn¡¯t the sexiestbination, but as we begin to move, I start to forget. All I can see is the deep brown of his eyes, and the way he looks at me.


    ¡°BeFause I¡¯m in love with you, even though I know I¡¯m not good enough for you.¡±


    My cheeks flush. Did he really say that? Did he really mean that?


    Our eyes are locked as we sway, spinning in slow circles with orange, ck, and white spotlights tracing over our skin. As we turn, I can see Zayd in his stupidly tight Power Rangers uniform watching us. He¡¯s dressed as the red ranger, which suits him. His mask is off currently, and I meet his gaze briefly over Zack¡¯s shoulder before I turn back to that soft, brown gaze.


    If I had to guess ¡­ I¡¯d say Zayd looks jealous. But that can¡¯t possibly be true. If he cared at all about me, he wouldn¡¯t have done what he did. At any time, it would¡¯ve only taken one of the guys to tell me the truth about what was happening, to step in and make things right. Just one of them. Even if it were an unbreakable Infinity Club bet, could they have looked anymore excited about what they were doing? And how about an apology?


    No, there¡¯s no way Zayd is jealous. No way.


    Zack and I continue to dance, and shortly after, we¡¯re joined by Tristan and Harper. Tristan¡¯s all done up like the Mad Hatter,plete with top hat and everything. He holds Harper possessively by the waist, and dances far too close to us. Every time we turn, I see them, her dressed up like Ariana Grande, and him with his de gray gaze locked on her face.


    There¡¯s a little pang in my chest that I can¡¯t identify. But what I do notice is that when Zack spins me, and the rose ne flutters, Tristan sees it. For a microsecond, his eyes widen, but he¡¯s brilliant at hiding it. Just brilliant. The next time we make eye contact, he¡¯s scowling at me.


    Creed has disappeared, dressed once again like a pirate (same asst year) with an unbuttoned red blouse, a stic sword, and breeches so tight that there¡¯s little left to the imagination. I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s why he was asking Miranda to buy him something yesterday: he didn¡¯t expect to lose his off- campus privileges and ended up without a costume. Sucker. He doesn¡¯te back for the next several songs and by then, I¡¯ve already forgotten about him. Him, and Tristan, and Zayd.


    For whatever reason, Zack has that effect on me. I grin as he dips me,ugh as he lifts me back up, and squeal as he hoists me into his arms and spins us both around in circles.


    When we leave for the cemetery portion of the party, I¡¯m grinning ear to ear. I even let him hold my hand as we take off our heels and run barefoot through the grass and under the shadowy limbs of trees. It¡¯s the perfect, foggy Halloween night, too.


    My heart is racing as we stumble onto the party with our hands still linked.


    I expect trouble, but there¡¯s no resistance when we show up. For the most part, everyone ignores us.


    For the most part.


    ¡°Careful if you¡¯re drinking, the tattling teetotaler¡¯s here,¡± someone mumbles, but really, should those in ss houses throw stones? This all started because Creed and his cronies reported me for drinkingst year. Bunch of bullshit.


    Zack grabs a beer, so does Miranda. Andrew, Jessie, and I stick with sodas, heading onto the dock to dangle our feet in the icy water for a while before we realize that the majority of the students have disappeared into the actual

 109

    ¡°Should we check it out?¡± I ask, this little niggle of suspicion working its way up from my stomach and into my chest. My heart pounds as I check my phone, pulling up the footage from the security cameras. There¡¯s nothing there, but a quick rewind shows ¡­ My mouth drops open as both Zack and Miranda lean over to peer at the screen.


    It¡¯s Creed, rifling through my stuff, looking for my journal, finding my journal.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Miranda whimpers, pping her hand over her mouth. ¡°Creed, you fucking idiot.¡±


    I push up from the dock, leaving my heels behind, and take off for the graveyard with the others following along behind me. Deja vu hits me hard and fast as Ie around the corner and find Creed lounging on top of one of the mausoleums with a horde of ghouls and ghosts surrounding him. Devils and demons, Miranda calls the Idols and their Inner Circle. She is spot freaking on.


    Just likest year, I stand there with my heart pounding as Creed clears his throat, lifts up a bobby pin and picks my look. Just likest year, he¡¯s the perfect picture of beauty and cruelty as he flips through the pages and stops on one at random. Just likest year, he opens his mouth to read my personal thoughts and feelings to an uncaring audience.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Unlikest year ¡­ I¡¯m ready for it.


    ¡°Give me the word, and I¡¯ll kick his ass,¡± Zack snarls, reaching up to take off his dangly earrings. It¡¯s pretty funny actually, but I don¡¯t want Creed Cabot to know that I¡¯ve been onto him and his asshole friends all along. I put a hand against Zack¡¯s chest to hold him back.


    Creed smiles, this easy, satisfied expression, like a cat who¡¯s just killed a mouse. What he doesn¡¯t know is that the mouse was already poisoned and now he¡¯s infected, too. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.


    ¡°Dear Journal,¡± Creed begins, his beautiful voice dripping ice. The crowd titters already, excited at the thought of bloodshed. Becky, Harper, and Ileana are lounging on tombstones in their short-shorts and miniskirts, grinning andughing. Tristan and Zayd each sit on a different headstone nearby. ¡°Today was hard. Too hard. When I walked into math ss and saw Jalen and Ebony sitting together, it all Fame baFk to me.¡± Creed pauses for a minute, looking up to scan his audience. His gazees to rest on me, and I swear, I almost just throw my head back andugh. When he returns his attention


    back to the page, I stifle my chuckle with my hand and Zack gives me the strangest look.


    ¡°Creed, don¡¯t,¡± Miranda pleads, stepping forward and pulling off her pink wig. She moves between our little group and the gathered horde of Bluebloods and Plebs. Several of the boys step up to block her, but keep their hands well off of her person. There¡¯s not a person at Burberry Prep who doesn¡¯t know what Creed did to Craig Taittinger. ¡°You¡¯re better than this: prove it to me.¡±


    Her twin pauses for a moment, looking up again. There¡¯s a war going on in his eyes, but the battle¡¯s over before it¡¯s even begun. Tristan turns around and levels him with a deadly stare.


    ¡°Keep reading.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t take orders from you,¡± Creed snaps, and this strange bird of hope takes flight inside of me. An Emily Dickinson poemes to mind: ¡°Hope¡± is the thing with feathers. If Creed actually defies Tristan, if he puts aside the journal, then ¡­


    ¡°So you take orders from your sister then? Or is it Charity that¡¯s got your panties in a wad?¡± Tristan turns fully to face Creed, and they have a stare down that reminds me of two alley cats I once saw outside the Train Car, locked in a fierce battle of wills. Unfortunately, Creed scowls and breaks the stare, opening the journal back up.


    ¡°This should be good,¡± Harper crows, and I feel this satisfied little twitch in my hand when I think about punching her. I shouldn¡¯t have resorted to violence, but my dad ¡­ My daddy ¡­ No. I can¡¯t think about that right now. Charlie is having a bunch of tests done this week, and I¡¯ll know more by the time fall break rolls around. This time, I am most definitely not staying at school to y poker with the Idols.


    ¡°It all Fame baFk to me,¡± Creed repeats, carrying on without a hitch in his voice, ¡°that night when Tristan triumphantly announFed that he was going on a date with Ebony.¡± Creed pauses for a moment, crinkling up his face. I can see Tristan¡¯s shoulders stiffening from here. Jalen Donner is no longer looking at me andughing. Neither is Ebony. Instead, she¡¯s gaping at Creed while Jalen turns his attention to Tristan.


    ¡°Keep going!¡± Becky shouts, and the crowd echoes their sentiment. The confusion on Creed¡¯s face quickly shifts to perverse joy.


    ¡°I had wondered when he and Ebony had broken up. Unfortunately, it Fame out that she was still dating Jalen and had no intention of breaking up


    with him. I guess they¡¯re Fhildhood friends or something? Anyway, it seems Tristan and Ebony had ns to meet up and ¡­ have sex? I¡¯m not sure, but sinFe I¡¯ve already Faught him in the aFt with Kiara Xiao and some random fourth-year girl, I doubt he had ns to piFk flowers and make daisy Fhains.¡±


    Creed pauses as Jalen lets out a roar of frustration andunches himself at Tristan. There¡¯s a split-second there where I think he¡¯s actually going to get him, but then Tristan steps nimbly out of the way and Jalen stumbles into the cement side of the mausoleum.


    ¡°Jalen, stop!¡± Ebony is screaming, her little red riding hood costume fluttering as she chases after her boyfriend. ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡±


    Tristan dances back from the cluster of headstones, putting himself in the center of the gravel path and crouching like he fully expects a fight. He gets one, too, when Jalenes at him again, throwing a punch that Tristan just narrowly ducks. His top hat flutters off andnds on the ground, crushed in seconds by Jalen¡¯s boot. He¡¯s dressed up like Lara Croft-probably thought it was funny as hell-so when heunches himself forward again, his fake boobs bounce.


    And ¡­ I¡¯ve got everything on film. It¡¯s shaky and blurry and probably not at all in focus, but my phone is running constantly, clutched at my side and carefully aimed in Creed¡¯s direction. In the foggy darkness, it¡¯s pretty hard to see, especially with the glowing jack o¡¯nterns everywhere.


    ¡°Jalen, don¡¯t,¡± Ebony screams again, and he whirls to face her, panting, pointing a finger in Tristan¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Did you sleep with him?¡± he asks, and Ebony nces away sharply. Jalen lets out another roar of rage, and then he spins and goes for Tristan yet again. This time, they end up exchanging blows.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t!¡± she shouts, trying to yank her boyfriend back. ¡°We never slept together.¡± Jalen pushes Tristan, and the king of the school actually stumbles a bit, blood running down the side of his mouth as he sneers at one of the most loyal members of his Inner Circle. One of his most loyal members who¡¯s just been thoroughly betrayed.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack breathes, and he looks at me with a new level of respect, eyes wide. ¡°Holy shit.¡± I smile tightly, but this isn¡¯t over, not even close.


    ¡°We never slept together, but I wanted to,¡± Ebony chokes out, tears running down her face. ¡°You¡¯re so obsessed with football and working out. We never spend time together. Tristan is ¡­¡±

 110

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t give a shit about you!¡± Jalen screams, panting, blood streaming from his nose. His brown eyes are wide and wild. Frankly, he looks like he¡¯s about to cry. ¡°I do.¡± He ms a fist against his chest and gets in Ebony¡¯s face. She just stands there, eyes wide, staring at him. ¡°I love you, Ebony. I fucking love you. I always have.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t love you,¡± she says, and then starts to sob. A few of the other girls, like Abigail and Valentina,e close and put their arms around her. Jalen stares at her in shock for several seconds before he begins to cry, these big, soppy messy tears that actually make me like him more. Boys should be able to cry; it¡¯s disturbing that society tries to tell them otherwise.


    But we¡¯ve already learned that people like John Hannibal and Gregory Van Horn are walking nightmares.


    ¡°Are you fucking crying? Pussy bitch.¡± John cackles, hisugh like that of a hyena on the prowl. It¡¯s disturbing. He¡¯s dressed like a serial killer tonight, too, with faux blood all over his shirt. How lovely.


    Jalen turns again, so suddenly that Tristan¡¯s still in the process of wiping crimson from his lips. He tackles him, and it takes several of the other boys to pry them apart.


    Creed ¡­ is absolutely loving this moment.


    ¡°Tristan Vanderbilt is a walking STD. He will sleep with anything that moves, but he¡¯s so disrespeFtful I¡¯m not sure how he even gets girls.¡± Creed chuckles as Tristan grits his teeth so hard it looks like one or two might just crack. Or hell, maybe Jalen will crack them for him? The boys start scuffling again as Ebony sobs and wails like she¡¯s the victim here. ¡°The sad thing is, he¡¯s truly the king of Burberry Prep, and for good reason. I mean, who else would stand up to him, Fertainly not-¡± Creed turns the page and pauses abruptly, the amusement vanishing from his face. His gaze lifts up to mine.


    I¡¯m damn sure this is the end, that that¡¯s all he¡¯s going to read, but good old Greg hops up and snatches the journal from him, thrusting it into John¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Certainly not Creed Cabot. If ever there was a definition for wannabe, he¡¯s it. He tries so hard to be Tristan Vanderbilt, it¡¯s pathetiF. He Fould never matFh up to him-and that¡¯s pretty sad, sinFe the him in question is a womanizing lothario.¡± John snickers as Zayd throws his head back and howls withughter. Meanwhile, the fight between Jalen and Tristan esctes.


    ¡°The only one worse and more pathetiF than Creed,¡± Greg continues as he reads over John¡¯s shoulder, dressed up like Geralt from The WitFher video games/novels. Cosy like that might look hot on someone like Zack who has the shoulders and muscles to carry it. On Greg, it looks even worse than Zack¡¯s too tight green dress and pearl ne (the stic kind, not the pervy kind, obvs). ¡°Is Zayd Kaiser. I mean, seriously. Does he think his musiF is aFtually good? At least Creed¡¯s and Tristan¡¯s dads show up to the sFhool to support their kids. Zayd¡¯s dad doesn¡¯t even bother.¡±


    Zayd¡¯s face is now tight and white, and he¡¯s looking at me like I¡¯m a monster.


    Here¡¯s the thing: if they hadn¡¯t stolen my journal and read it, none of this would be happening. None of it. The Bluebloods have brought this on themselves.


    Miranda is standing there shaking with rage. I feel bad for what she¡¯s going through, but I didn¡¯t make her brother do any of this. No, he broke into my room all on his own. I bet the guys made copies of my room and locker keys before they handed that bundle over to Vice Principal Castor. How they got keys for my new dorm locks, I¡¯m not sure. It¡¯s horrifying to see how far their treachery went.


    ¡°If I were you,¡± I say, and as soon as I speak, the entire cemetery goes quiet. The only sound is the eerie whisper of the wind through the graves, the song of ghosts. ¡°I would stop reading now. Keep going, and you really won¡¯t like what else I have to say in there.¡±


    Harper snatches the journal from John¡¯s hand and tucks it under her arm, standing up and lifting her chin in defiance. The way she looks at me, I can tell I¡¯ve struck a nerve. Tristan is supposed to be this piece of American royalty, his family¡¯s fortune built on shipping and railroads in the country¡¯s infancy. The Vanderbilt name will give her a prestige that the du Pont name will never have. She¡¯s got all the money in the world, so there¡¯s not much left to strive for but this.


    Only, she¡¯ll never have it. I¡¯ll make certain of that.


    ¡°This party is officially over,¡± Harper snaps, and the crowd groans and grumbles in displeasure. It¡¯s disturbing though, to see how quickly they all scramble toply with her orders. Where Tristan is the king of the academy, she is most certainly the queen. She¡¯ll be a hard one to take down. ¡°Tristan, let¡¯s go.¡± He sneers at her, spitting blood and ring at Jalen before


    he turns and storms along the path after her. When he passes me, he spits more blood at my feet, but I don¡¯t move, just stand there and stare him down.


    He tears away from me with a string of curses and disappears into the fog. Jalen just copses to the gravel and sobs while Ebony drifts away with Valentina and Abigail. The way she looks at me as she passes says all I need to know.


    She¡¯s a lightweight, and I¡¯ve already shoved her out of the ring.


    Creed doesn¡¯t move from his ce on top of the mausoleum. Zayd, too, is frozen in ce.


    ¡°Be careful, boys,¡± I warn them, this strange little purr in my voice that I hardly recognize. ¡°I¡¯ming for you.¡±


    I turn away and grab Zack¡¯s hand, dragging him with me.


    On Sunday evening, I make a videoption of Creed going through my stuff, stealing my journal, and reading it aloud, and then I email it to Kathleen Cabot with the following message: I really liked your son onFe, and he hurt me so bad I Fouldn¡¯t breathe. He seems determined to destroy me, but I don¡¯t want to report him to the administration. Mrs. Cabot, I trust your judgment impliFitly.


    And all of that, is pure unadulterated truth.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye Reed


    The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one


    two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), BeFky tter (year one two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated), Ileana Taittinger (year one)


    The Inner CirFle: Andrew Payson, Anna KirkpatriFk, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner ¡­ and, I guess, me! Kiara Xiao, Ben Thresher


    Ple


    bs: everyone else, sorry. XOXO


    Zack Brooks

 111

    I only have to survive one more week until fall break. Then I can go home and see Dad. Then I can take a break from all of this. To be quite honest, it¡¯s exhausting. Not only am I studying my ass off, working out for the cheer team, and ying the harp in every spare second of my time, but I¡¯m always on high-alert at. One wrong move, and I¡¯m dead.


    On the plus side, thesest few weeks have been almost ¡­ fun? Miranda has stopped talking to her twinpletely. I mean, likeplete and utter silence. Even I can see that it¡¯s killing him. He looks almost pale and sad when he thinks nobody¡¯s looking. If he¡¯s even remotely aware that there are eyes on him, he puts up his arrogant, haughty front like a shield.


    Kathleen Cabot appeared the Monday after the Halloween party in her white stretch limo, marched down the stone halls in her Louboutins and grabbed her son by the ear. ording to Miranda, she¡¯s this close to pulling him out of Burberry Prep and enrolling him in an all-boys military academy. She¡¯s beyond disappointed him in, beyond fawning over me (in front of Creed), and basically begged me to keep tutoring him.


    It¡¯s a chore, but I do it. We sit side by side in the library every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for two hours, and speak in low, clipped, studious tones. I get credits for it, at least, and I don¡¯t try to sabotage his work. It¡¯s enough for me to do my job.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    After we finish up on thatst Monday, I start to pack up my things and Creed leans back in his chair. With his angelic white-blond hair and ice-blue


    eyes, the white of the second-year uniform looks like it was made for him. The way he lounges, too, is quite incredible, like he¡¯s boneless and deserves to be carried about on a golden litter.


    ¡°Do you like tormenting me?¡± he asks, and I turn to gape at him.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± It¡¯s now my turn to lean back in my chair, and give him a once-over. ¡°That¡¯s a joke, right? You know who started this, don¡¯t you? I¡¯ll give you a hint: it wasn¡¯t me.¡±


    Creed doesn¡¯t react. Actually, he looks like he¡¯s about to fall asleep. Or have sex. Maybe thetter and then the former? I have no idea.


    When he reaches out and tucks some loose strands of rose-gold hair behind my ear, I¡¯m too startled to react.


    ¡°The girls want to kill you,¡± he says, and I¡¯m actually quite sure he¡¯s not


    speaking metaphorically. ¡°Watch out for them.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. Creed¡¯s eyes drop to the bare bit of skin above my blouse. It was a bit hot in here, so I took my red tie off and unbuttoned a few buttons. It feels like he can see everything, the way he¡¯s staring at me. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I want you to leave,¡± he says, stressing thatst word and then falling back into the usual nonchnt gaiety of the idle rich. ¡°Get out of Burberry Prep, and make yourself at home somewhere else. Why not go buddy up to your friend Lizzie at Coventry Prep?¡±


    ¡°Lizzie and I are not friends,¡± I bark, and Creedughs, the sound just as merry as Miranda¡¯s. However, where she reminds me of the school bell, happily reminding us all it¡¯s time for learning, Creed¡¯s bellugh is like the death knell of a church tower during a funeral.


    ¡°You seem to be friends with Zack Brooks. How is it he gets a free pass and she doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°He did not get a free pass,¡± I say, forcing myself to stay calm. Creed wants me to get pissed off and react. We just stare at each other, and it doesn¡¯t escape my notice that his shirt is also unbuttoned. I can see a bit of his chest, and my fingers twitch on the edge of my chair. Also, our knees are far too close, just a scant two inches apart. If I moved, I¡¯d bump against his long, long legs. I stay perfectly still. ¡°You saw what I did to him. Be d all I¡¯ve done is destroy your rtionship with your mother and sister.¡±


    Creed¡¯s jaw clenches, the only sign that I¡¯ve struck a nerve.


    ¡°If I wanted you to fall to your knees and weep for my mercy, I could have that.¡± He leans suddenly toward me until our faces are inches apart. ¡°I


    could destroy you, Charity.¡±


    ¡°Really? Because everything you¡¯ve thrown at me thus far has been weak as hell. I¡¯m not afraid of you, Creed Cabot.¡± We maintain this stare down, even though it kills me. His lips are so close, I can remember what they tasted like the night of the winter formal, that glorious night that I sat on hisp and kissed him in the crisp cold winter air. Crap. He smells good, too, like fresh linens and soap. Don¡¯t think about his sFent, Marnye, that¡¯s ridiFulous. ¡°You can say all these horrible things if you want, but you¡¯re not going to act. Because if you do, you¡¯ll dig your own grave. Your sister already hates you, just keep pushing her and see how evil you can get before she abandons youpletely. It must hurt a lot, to lose a twin.¡± I cross my arms over my chest as Creed exhales and closes his eyes.


    Yep.


    He¡¯s like a neutered dog.


    I was right to cross him off my list.


    ¡°You were bullied, too,¡± I whisper finally, and he sits back, looking away sharply. His pretty blond hair falls forward and covers his face. He taps at his lips with a long finger, and I just can¡¯t help but admire how long all of his limbs are. He¡¯s tall and trim, but still muscr. The way his shirt pulls at his shoulders gives away a developing physique. ¡°How could you do that to me?¡±


    ¡°How could you choose Zayd?¡± he hisses, turning back to me suddenly. I remember the way his face looked when I walked down the steps into the graduation g in that red dress. My heart hurts a little, but I push the feeling aside. ¡°Zayd.¡± Creedughs, the sound dry and reedy, and then he stands up. Well, more like he unfolds his long limbs from the chair, towering over me as he reaches up and pops open one more button. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±


    He takes off around the table, pausing to meet up with Ileana Taittinger.


    I watch him flirt with her as my insides twist into a dangerous knot. She¡¯s got an old name, a very well established family legacy. Hmm.


    Maybe I crossed his name off just a little too soon? I¡¯ll have to keep an eye on them.


    For now, I gather my books, rise to my feet, and leave


    the sanctity of the library.

 112

    Dad isn¡¯t able to get off work toe and get me for fall break, so Zack gives me a ride home in his orange McLaren. We sit in silence for a good portion of the drive which I actually like. When I¡¯m around Zack Brooks, I don¡¯t feel like I have to force anything. The quiet between us ispanionable and easygoing, not strained or awkward.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re still hanging around me,¡± I tell him, ncing up from my phone screen to look at his face. All I¡¯m doing is trolling gossip sites anyway. Every single freaking article is about this prince guy, this Windsor York. He sounds like a total a-hole to me. He¡¯d be right at home at Burberry Prep. ording to the online gab rags, he sleeps with every celebrity, model, or billionaire heiress he can get his hands on. Reminds me of a certain someone, but at least his smile in all the pictures is nice.


    Still ¡­ another manwhore, gross. No thank you. I shut my phone off.


    ¡°Why is that so hard to believe?¡± Zack asks, his voice unbelievably soft. I notice he does that around me now, softens all of his hard edges. It almost ¡­ makes him likable. Almost. But not quite. He¡¯s taken up track now, and he¡¯s stupid good at it. I imagine he¡¯ll be earning himself another letterman jacket next year. Really, I should take him down another peg. But am I going to? We¡¯ll see. I don¡¯t trust him as far as I could throw him which, considering how muscr and tall he is, would not be all that far. ¡°I told you how I feel about you.¡±


    My nostrils re, and my throat closes up. Oh god. Now the silence really does feel awkward.


    I stare out at the road and focus on the yellow lines.


    ZaFk doesn¡¯t love me. That¡¯s weird. He¡¯s a freaking psyFho bully. Remember how he treated Ileana during tryouts? He¡¯s a monster inside; he Fan¡¯t be trusted.


    And yet, I¡¯m so rxed around him that I fall asleep and drool all over his expensive sports car. The next thing I know, he¡¯s carrying me into my


    bedroom at the Train Car, and tucking me in. Pretty sure I imagine it, but I think he kisses my forehead before I pass out again.


    In the morning, I¡¯m woken up by the scent of dad¡¯s famous vani waffles and I¡¯ve forgotten all about the almost-possible-maybe-didn¡¯t-happen kiss.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I say, giving him a huge hug. He looks good, actually, much better than I¡¯d feared. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Wonderful, actually,¡± he says, handing me a te. I smear peanut butter all over my waffles and douse them in real maple syrup. Don¡¯t ask: it¡¯s a Reed thing. As I sit down on the couch in the living room, I¡¯m overwhelmed by emotion and have to choke back tears. I will not think negatively about my father or his prospects. What good would that do him? ¡°The Du Pont Medical Center is incredible.¡±


    My mouth purses into a thin line, and I have to resist the urge to voice my fears. Why, exactly, Harper is helping my father out, I don¡¯t know. To hold it over my head? I can only imagine the whole situation is going to end poorly. If she messes with my father¡¯s heath however ¡­ god help her.


    ¡°Also, I wanted to talk to you about your mother ¡­¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t make me see her,¡± I blurt. I¡¯m not ready for that. Jennifer and I have a strained rtionship at best. Being home means taking care of dad and getting a break from the rat race that is Burberry Preparatory Academy. If I have to spend any forced afternoons with her, I¡¯ll copse.


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Dad says, surprising me. I put my fork down and lean back into the cushions, ying with Grandma Reed¡¯s charm bracelet. I don¡¯t dare take it to school with me. Can you imagine what those Blueblood psychos would do if they got a hold of it? ¡°It was wrong of me to try to force a rtionship.¡± He swallows hard and nces away, like he¡¯s ashamed about something. I narrow my eyes.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t buy a chicken instead of a turkey again this year?¡± I ask, already thinking ahead to Thanksgiving dinner. Charlie chuckles and nces back at me, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles.


    ¡°Wow, you know me too well,¡± he says,ughing. But it feels so ¡­ forced. That was not what he was going to say. I narrow my eyes, but Dad¡¯s already standing up and moving into the kitchen to fry up some eggs. I¡¯m already stuffed, but I don¡¯t have the heart to tell him no. Besides, I just like watching him cook, smelling the smells, sinking into the ratty old couch.


    If the Idols think money buys happiness, I feel sorry for them. This, this right here is what life is all about.


    Dad isn¡¯t exactly thrilled to receive an invitation from Zack¡¯s family to have Thanksgiving dinner at the Brooks¡¯ ce. He hasn¡¯t said much since the video came out at the football game, but I know he¡¯s upset. More for me than for him, but still, even though I told him I forgave Zack, it isn¡¯t enough. Nor should it be, considering what Zack did to me.


    Still, when the invitationes, it¡¯s tempting to go.


    ¡°I did not know he was the one that drove you home from school,¡± Dad says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me like he¡¯s severely disappointed. I tuck my bottom lip under my teeth and grimace. I never lie to my dad; I try to make it a habit not to lie at all. The thing is, I didn¡¯t exactly tell him either.


    ¡°Dad,¡± I start, ncing over at the brown paper bags full of groceries on the counter. I went shopping for everything we would need to have a huge Thanksgiving feast, but I¡¯m just ¡­ tired, and Dad¡¯s tired, and quite frankly it sounds kind of fun to hang out with Zack. Does that make me a crazy person? ¡°Look, I¡¯m not trying to minimize what Zack did to me. But I know you like to hang out with him, and I know he kept youpanyst year when I was gone. Going over to his house for dinner doesn¡¯t mean that he¡¯s been forgiven or that has sins have been forgotten.¡± I exhale and slide my palms down the front of my red skirt. ¡°But don¡¯t you think he deserves a second chance? You gave one to Jennifer.¡±


    Charlie purses his thin lips and tucks his hands into the pockets of his paint-covered overalls. He must believe in second chances, or he really wouldn¡¯t be having an affair with Jennifer. We haven¡¯t talked about that yet; it seems so unimportant right now. Dad¡¯s health is the only thing that matters.


    ¡°I guess they¡¯ll probably have a full spread over there ¡­¡± He starts, and I grin. I don¡¯t need to keep pressing: I¡¯ve already won him over. Dad says I forgive too easily, but he also believes in the power of forgiveness. It¡¯s a fine line to walk.


    So on Thursday, we had over to the Brooks¡¯ family home in Dad¡¯s rusted- out Ford. It rattles down the pristine white limestone driveway,ing to a stop near an impressive set of steps. The porch on this house is as big as the entire Train Car.


    Zack is waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall near the front door with his big hands tucked into the pockets of his ck cks. I surprised to see him dressed up in a white button-down and jacket. He seems so ufortable in it, like he¡¯d rather be in sweats and a tank, working out in the gym. Even though he seems nonchnt, I can tell he¡¯s nervous about our visit. Probably nervous about confronting my father. As he should be, anyway.


    Charlie gets out of the car in his unttering yellow and red id button- down (I tried to convince him not to wear it) and brown cks. Pretty sure this is the same outfit he wore to his friend¡¯s wedding two or three decades ago. He¡¯s also wearing an extreme frown that looks carved into the slightly wrinkled nes of his face. As he makes his way around the front of the truck and heads up the stairs, Zack lifts his head and meets my eyes.


    There¡¯s no doubt about it: my heart stumbles, trips, falls. I have a hard time breathing, and my palms are suddenly sweaty. I curse those damn teenage hormones out again, and roll my eyes as Charlie approaches Zack with a no-nonsense expression on his face.


    ¡°Zack.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Reed.¡±


    The two men stare each other down, and I wait at the bottom of the steps to see who will break the tension first. Even though I can tell it pains him, Zack is the one to do it, ncing away from my father and toward the rocking chair covered pumpkins, bits of hay, and a smiling scarecrow. The entire porch is decorated in fall themes: orange, red, and yellow leaves, turkey silhouettes, horns of plenty. I wonder who did the decorating? Probably someone that was paid to do it. The Brooks don¡¯t exactly strike me as a family who does their own decorating.


    Zack looks back to my father again, and meets his stare dead-on.


    ¡°Sir, I apologized to your daughter once, but I¡¯ll do it again. I¡¯d like to apologize to you, too.¡± Zack lifts his chin proudly. ¡°For the things I¡¯ve done, there are no words to make up for it. But I really am sorry. From now on, I¡¯ll try to be a better man. It wasn¡¯t Marnye¡¯s job to teach me how to be one, but she already has anyway.¡± Zack turns his brown gaze over to me, and I feel a


    little thrill shoot through me. It takes everything I have in me not to fidget. ¡°Thank you, Marnye.¡±

 113

    Before I can think of what to say, the front door opens, and Zack¡¯s mom, Robin, steps out. She¡¯s dressed in a tasteful cream suit with low heels, her chocte hair frothing around her face. When she sees me, she smiles.


    ¡°To be honest,¡± she says, as she tucks her hands in her pockets and steps onto the deck, ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were going to ept our invitation. But I¡¯m d you did.¡± Robin nces over at Charlie, and they shake hands in a very businesslike manner. I know they had a long, long conversation at the football game, but I¡¯m not entirely sure how it went down. ¡°Come on in.¡±


    Robin gestures for us to head inside, and we do, moving down a long, marble hallway and into a formal dining room that¡¯sid out like a magazine spread.


    ¡°My parents love to put on a show,¡± Zack whispers, leaning over my shoulder and putting his lips near my ear. My entire body goes white-hot in an instant and goose bumps spring up along my arms. Luckily, Dad is too busy being introduced to Zack¡¯s sister, Kelsey, and some family friends of theirs. Zack¡¯s dad is nowhere to be seen. ¡°Just ¡­ don¡¯t praise my mom for her home cooking,¡± he adds with a slight quirk of his mouth. ¡°It¡¯s all catered.¡±


    Zack pulls out a chair for me, and I tuck my fluffy red skirt under my thighs before sitting. He rests his hands briefly on my shoulders before pushing me in and sitting beside me. Charlie¡¯s definitely watching us now, and I flush.


    ¡°I have to admit, I didn¡¯t want toe over here,¡± Dad says as he sits across from me, and Robin takes up her spot at the head of the table. Zack¡¯s sister sits across from him, and the couple-I didn¡¯t catch either of their names-is at the end of the table. ¡°But my daughter is a very forgiving soul. It¡¯s a trait I can¡¯t bear to discourage.¡±


    I smile tightly, and Zack raises both of his dark brows. If Charlie only knew ¡­ Would he be proud of me? Or disappointed? I try not to think too hard about it.


    ¡°Well, my son is quite the opposite, unfortunately,¡± Robin says, and Zack narrows his eyes. He looks at his mother, and they exchange one of those quiet, personal conversations that requires no words. ¡°He seems to take after his father, sadly enough.¡±


    ¡°Why do you say things like that?¡± Zack whispers, his voice low and dark, menacing. ¡°You know that¡¯s a bunch of bullshit. I¡¯m nothing like him.¡±


    ¡°What you did to this girl,¡± Robin says, as she stands up with a pair of carving knives in hand. She¡¯s a bit scary like that. ¡°That was something your father would¡¯ve done at your age. If you¡¯re ashamed, then good: you should be.¡±


    Zack scowls, but I smile. Robin reminds me of Kathleen a little, just a bit


    ¡­ softer? After a moment, she sighs and forces a smile of her own.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I love you, son. Don¡¯t mess this up. Pulling a girl¡¯s pigtails because you like her isn¡¯t cute.¡±


    ¡°Like her?¡± Dad echoes, looking between me and Zack like he¡¯s just now figured something out.


    Oh god.


    Robin chuckles as Charlie narrows his eyes on her son. Meanwhile, Zack just sits there like he always does, a chiseled bunch of muscles and a narrowed dark gaze. When he nces over at me, I suddenly decide we¡¯re sitting too close. But would scooting my chair away a few inches be too obvious? Probably.


    ¡°The boy has a crush,¡± Robin says, and her friends bothugh while Dad sits there with his brow all scrunched up. Zack¡¯s sister, Kelsey, isn¡¯t shy about voicing her opinions either. She doesn¡¯t look like Zack or her mother, so I figure her pale orange hair and light green eyes are a product of their father¡¯s gics.


    ¡°He pined after her allst year. It was absolutely intoxicating.¡±


    Zack growls at his sister, but Robin just tsk-tsks at them and starts to carve the turkey, passing out slices to me and Dad first, then her friends, her daughter, andstly, her son. She winks at him when she finally passes over the te.


    ¡°I¡¯m just d they¡¯re both going to the academy,¡± Kelsey says, smiling prettily at me. She seems nice enough, but I¡¯m so wary of beautiful girls now. I shouldn¡¯t be-that¡¯s some stupid internalized misogyny right there- but it¡¯s true. I¡¯m scared of beautiful boys, too, so at least nobody could call me sexist. ¡°Zack¡¯s basically obsessed.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Kelsey, you can shut the fuck up now,¡± Zack says, but I¡¯m holding backughter, and Dad is terrified out of his mind.


    ¡°The f-word at the dinner table? Come on, Zack Marcus Brooks, have some ss.¡± Robin takes her seat, and we all serve ourselves from the side


    dishes. Everything looks so pretty, like it¡¯s from a cooking show or something. It¡¯s prettier thanst year, when Zack and I sat at a big, lonely table all by ourselves. This is much better.


    I¡¯m overwhelmed briefly by deja vu, like I¡¯m ying out the same story out, just with a different oue. Creed with the notebook, Zack at Thanksgiving. But this time, when the bet is won, and hearts are being shattered like fragile ss baubles, it won¡¯t be mine that¡¯s on the ground in bloodied pieces.


    No, this time, it¡¯s the Idols who are going to get a taste of their own medicine.


    I smile as I scoop up a bit of sweet potato and catch Zack watching me.


    Underneath the table, his long leg bumps into mine, and I feel my throat get suddenly tight. Butterflies take over, and it takes all I¡¯ve got to focus on the conversation at hand. Apparently Robin¡¯s friends own a vineyard and they¡¯re looking for someone to create some custom ironwork arches, benches, and beds for their B&B. Dad ends up with a job and a ss of scotch that costs more than his car, while Zack and I retreat to the backyard and dip our legs in the heated pool.


    We¡¯re sitting close enough that our thighs line up. It¡¯s funny, looking at them like that. Mine is so much smaller than his.


    ¡°You pined for me allst year, huh?¡± I ask, and Zack¡¯s mouth purses tight. He has such a full lower lip. As I stare at it, I can¡¯t help but remember that kiss at the football stadium, and it¡¯s just ¡­ like, all of the feels. All of them.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He turns to look at me, moonlight catching on his masculine features, that straight Greek nose of his, that full mouth. Goodness. I exhale sharply and turn away, looking out across the water. ¡°Would it make any difference?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡± But maybe. I keep that thought to myself, knocking my heels against the side of the pool. ¡°How did you and Lizziee to make that bet anyway?¡±


    Zack goes still beside me, but after a moment, he exhales, like he¡¯s given up.


    ¡°Lizzie was a senior member of the Infinity Club; she was sponsoring me. A sponsor always has to challenge their new recruit to a game with high stakes. She was goaded by the other girls. Don¡¯t let Harper or Becky or anyone else pretend to be innocent in all of that.¡±


    ¡°And you? Who were you goaded by? Are you going to me Tristan, Creed, and Zayd for what you did?¡± Zack shakes his head, reaching up to run his palm over his hair. His shirt is unbuttoned now, and he¡¯s rolled his cks up to his knees. Seeing his interactions with his mother, it¡¯s clear he wore the outfit to please her. It¡¯s kind of cute actually, to get this little snippet of his life that shows he cares. It makes this very clear distinction in my mind between Zack and Creed.


    Creed doesn¡¯t care if he upsets his family or not. Well, I mean he Fares, but yet he does it anyway. It¡¯s so frustrating to watch.


    ¡°No. I take full responsibility for my actions.¡± Zack sighs again, like he¡¯s suddenly so tired. ¡°But you¡¯ve seen them: they¡¯re monsters. All three of them. Honestly, Marnye, take your revenge and then run. You won¡¯t see any remorse from them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not expecting any,¡± I admit, looking at the curving maze of gardens that makes up Zack¡¯s backyard. Well, one of his backyards I guess, considering I¡¯ve already seen three of his family¡¯s houses: this one, theke house fromst year, and the ce he used to live when he attended LBMS. I wonder why his grandfather chose to cut his family off in the first ce ¡­ and what spurred him to give it all back? ¡°That¡¯s not the point of all of this. Their whole lives, they¡¯ve gotten away with whatever they wanted. The rest of their lives, they probably will, too. For this one, tiny blip on their timeline, I want them to know what it feels like. If it stops them from victimizing one person, then it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s it?¡± Zack asks, voice gently probing, but not pushing. ¡°It has nothing to do with the fact that they broke your heart?¡±


    I purse my lips tight and dig my nails into the cement edge of the pool.


    ¡°If it does, it¡¯s none of your business,¡± I tell him, my voice rough. He turns away sharply, and we sit there in silence for several minutes, the waterpping at our bare legs.


    ¡°We don¡¯t deserve you,¡± Zack growls finally, pushing away from the edge of the pool. ¡°Not a single one of us. Remember that, Marnye.¡± He turns and pads away with wet feet.


    I sit there staring at my reflection until Charliees to get me, wondering about my own motivations.


    Wondering if my broken ss heart isn¡¯t still making me bleed.

 114

    After break, school starts off at a run and doesn¡¯t slow down. I have so little downtime that my revenge nse to a brief halt while I catch up on my studies, cheer team practices, and orchestra rehearsals. Zack has started training for track and field in February, and Miranda is off innd with Jessie. They are now officially dating. I¡¯m excited for them, but sometimes I catch Miranda gazing off into the distance like she¡¯s daydreaming about someone else.


    Uh-oh.


    My tutoring activities with Creed continue, and the school¡¯s so impressed with my ¡®resilience¡¯ (as they¡¯ve called it), that I¡¯ve been drafted into being a student mentor. Basically, I¡¯m there to help students who are having issues with bullying, or help guide first-years who are struggling. Of course, nobody ever signs up to work with me. I still get credit for it though, so that¡¯s fine.


    During the end of our first week back, I strike gold by pure ident.


    I¡¯m on my way from my dorm-somebody¡¯s scratched the word Brothel into the door yet again-to the mixed media room to practice some songs for the winter concert. When I get there, however, the room is upied by Zayd and his cronies.


    His howlingughter echoes out into the hall as I pause and nce in. Becky is all over him, making my stomach turn as she nuzzles up against him. She¡¯s changed out of her uniform into a pink tank with no bra, and


    she¡¯s pressing her chest against his. I wonder if they¡¯ve had sex? I figure they probably have, and my stomach twists in disgusts.


    I end up clutching a fist against my chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of my heart.


    Did I ¡­ get my heart broken by Zayd?


    It certainly feels that way, watching himugh and joke with his friends. When he presses a t kiss to Becky¡¯s mouth, a sour taste rises in the back of my throat. His hair is now dyed a pale blue with dark roots, and his makeup is stage-dark, like he¡¯s getting ready for a concert. All that eyeliner highlights how beautiful his green eyes are, how long hisshes.


    ¡°Like, my new album sucks, but it¡¯s going to sell, you know that I mean?¡± Zayd asks, his husky rockstar voice giving me the chills. Without a second¡¯s hesitation, I pull out my phone and start recording. There¡¯s nothing like letting these Idol idiots hang themselves.


    ¡°You mean because Plebs are so fucking stupid, they¡¯ll buy it regardless?¡± Becky asks, herugh this grating sound that makes my skin crawl. She enjoys torture and pain like nobody but Harper du Pont.


    ¡°Yeah, like,¡± Zayd starts, and then he gets out a cigarette and lights up. Smoking inside the chapel building is a strict taboo, but he doesn¡¯t seem to care, blowing gray smoke out from between his sexy lips. Watching his tattooed fingers clutch the cigarette shouldn¡¯t turn me on-I hate smoking, as a rule-but some random rebellious part of me is turned one. ¡°I write this profound shit, and it does well, but not good enough. The recordbel is breathing down my neck for another hit. So they have some ghost writers drum up this drivel, and tell me it¡¯s going to make me famous. Maybe there¡¯s a reason some people are poor? They¡¯re stupid enough to spend what little money they have on this crap album.¡±


    The whole crowdughs, and my gut turns to ice. Wow. How fucking dare he insult his fans like that? Raking in their hard-earned money and mocking them for it.


    ¡°Anyway, you guys want to hear the new single? The peons are going to absolutelyp it up.¡± Becky climbs Zayd like a ko, and I swear, there¡¯s this sh of annoyance on his face as he gets out his phone and presses y on a pop-rock song that¡¯s a bit catchier than I¡¯d like to admit.


    Guess there¡¯s a reason I¡¯m a peon, right? DiFk.


    ¡°Once this is over, let¡¯s go back to my room and I¡¯ll suck you off,¡± Becky purrs, rubbing herself all over Zayd and licking along the length of his ear.


    He pushes her back a step and she stumbles.


    ¡°Can we, like listen to this damn song?¡± he snaps, and her blue eyes go wide. She reaches out and pinches Zayd¡¯s tattooed arm with her long nails, and he sneers at her.


    ¡°You were all down for fucking until you started ying around with the Working Girl. Guess I can¡¯tpete with a prostitute¡¯s skillset, huh?¡±


    ¡°Becky, shut the hell up,¡± Zayd groans, letting his head fall back, ink crawling up from underneath his wrinkled academy shirt.


    ¡°No, I will not shut up,¡± she continues, and Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Greg, and John all exchange looks with each other. ¡°You have been so freaking weird. All summer you were weird. What is it about that low-ss bitch that you¡¯re so obsessed with?¡±


    Zayd drops his head and narrows his green eyes. I sense vitriol in the air. ¡°Low-ss? Marnye might be trailer trash¡±-ouch, Zayd-¡°but she¡¯s a


    hundred times ssier than you. I¡¯m so done with your shit, Becky. You want me to be your boyfriend or something? Newssh: I¡¯m not interested anymore. Fuck, I was never interested. It was a game to see if I could get you, and guess what? You were a hundred times easier to dupe than Charity ever was.¡±


    Becky reaches out and ps Zayd as hard as she can before turning and storming up the steps toward me. I scramble out of the way and duck into The Mess before she gets out the door. There¡¯s no one inside, fortunately, and once I think she¡¯s had enough time to leave, I creep back out.


    Zayd¡¯s just started another song, so I wait there and record the entire thing.


    ¡°Pretty sure I¡¯m as fuFked-up as they Fome, the only one who knows the loneliness of my throne. Through the darkest nights there¡¯s only one bright star, but when I reaFh up, it¡¯s just way up there, off in the void, the Fk too far.¡±


    Mm.


    I¡¯m not sure I believe the ghostwriter bit. Those lyrics sFream Zayd Kaiser to me.


    After it¡¯s over, there¡¯s a bit of silence before Sai Patel¡¯sughter snaps out like a whip. He has a pretty strong New York ent, so it¡¯s easy to tell who¡¯s speaking. Other than the usual bits and barbs, he hasn¡¯t stood out to me much.


    ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest shit. Holy crap, man, that¡¯s garbage.¡± The other boysugh, Mayleen¡¯s feminine giggles interspersed throughout. When I peep around the corner, I wonder if I¡¯m the only person who sees how tight Zayd¡¯s jaw is.


    On Monday, I head out into the hall and a storm of chaos ensues. ¡°Marnye, oh my god,¡± Miranda gushes, grabbing my hands, her face


    flushed pink. Her eyes are sparkling as she yanks me down the hall, our white skirts billowing, as we head to the courtyard and push through the throng of people to the front. There¡¯s a fancy ck sports car down there, no driver in sight.


    ¡°Um, what?¡± I ask, as Miranda spins to me, smacking me in the face with her shiny blond hair. She almost smells like Creed, too. Is it weird that I notice that?


    ¡°That¡¯s Zayd¡¯s agent¡¯s car,¡± she chokes out, pointing at it. ¡°Before Ms. Felton collects our phones, look it up.¡± I pull my phone from my bookbag and do as she¡¯s asking. Not that I need to, since I know exactly what¡¯s going on. ¡°This has your signature all over it,¡± she whispers, leaning in toward me as several staff members try to herd the students away from the courtyard. I nce up and our eyes meet. Miranda squeals, and I smile sheepishly.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    All I did was upload Zayd¡¯s conversation, and part of his song. That¡¯s it.

 115

    His own words, however, are like a hole in the side of a ship, slowly filling with water. Zayd Kaiser is going to sink.


    Son of Famous RoFker Billy Kaiser Rips on his Fans


    That¡¯s the first article that pops up. They didn¡¯t even identify him by name in the headline, just by his dad¡¯s aplishments. Good. My brows go up as I keep scrolling.


    Easy-to-Love Zayd Kaiser is AFtually Full of Shit


    Oh, I like that headline.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack says,ing to stand beside us. His hair is still wet from his morning shower-he always makes time to shower after his morning run


    -but his uniform is in order, even if his tie is slightly crooked. ¡°This is brilliant.¡±


    The crowd parts and a hush falls over the gathered students as a man in a suit storms forward, a shaggy-haired guy in jeans close on his heels. Zayd is right there, trailing along behind him, his face crestfallen, his eyes wet with angry tears.


    He follows the other two men down the steps to stand by the car, and they speak in hushed tones for several minutes before Zayd steps back and the others climb in and speed off.


    ¡°That was Billy Kaiser,¡± Miranda whispers in my ear. It¡¯s pretty easy to tell, even without her confirming it. The way Zayd watches him, with this mix of hatred and yearning, he couldn¡¯t be anyone else. After a moment, Zayd turns and heads back up the steps. At first, I think he¡¯s going to walk on by, but then he stops and turns.


    Our gazes met, and the crowd takes in a collective inhale as Zayd makes his way over to stand in front of me. His chest is heaving, and he¡¯s soaked in sweat, his pale blue hair stuck to his forehead. There¡¯s no gel in it this morning, no liner around his eyes. He looks like he wants to kill me.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± he snaps, but all I do is stand there and stare. I make myself remember my panties in his hand, that video of us kissing on the screen. The trophy, his face, the way he just stood there with his arm around freaking Becky tter instead of me.


    ¡°Challenge epted, met, and executed,¡± I say, and Zayd lets out this scream that¡¯s strangely melodic. He was born to sing. Also born to be a dick, apparently. He reaches up and grabs his hair in two fists like he might be this close to having a nervous breakdown.


    Zack steps up next to me, crossing his arms over his massive chest, like he¡¯s a bodyguard or something.


    ¡°You do not fucking intimidate me,¡± Zayd hisses, sneering. ¡°You¡¯re no angel, Zack Brooks. Eventually, Marnye will see it, and she¡¯ll dump you for someone like me.¡± Thisst part snaps off his tongue like an insult before he spins away and storms through the crowd, elbowing people out of the way as he goes.


    My list is in the front pocket of my bag, so I pull it out, unfold it, and enjoy the squeak of the red Sharpie in the silence of the courtyard.


    It feels so good to cross Zayd¡¯s name off my list.


    Tristan is a tricky little Idol to pin down. I almost feel like he¡¯s actively avoiding me which makes zero sense, considering all the threats he¡¯s leveled my way.


    So my next step is sitting down with Miranda and going over exactly what happened in the Hamptons during the summer. ording to her-and she is the gossip queen-Lizzie Walton dered war on the Burberry Prep Idols. Tristan, in particr, was on the receiving end of her wrath.


    ¡°She did it all for you, I think,¡± Miranda hazards, but even though I¡¯ve sort of forgiven Zack, how can I deal with Lizzie? What can I do to get back at her that will even the odds? But contacting her is probably the best chance I have at finding some way to get under Tristan¡¯s skin. I mean, I¡¯m still kicking his ass in the academics department, but I did thatst year, too. It¡¯s not enough, not even close.


    Besides, I won¡¯t admit it aloud, but ¡­ I miss Lizzie. Every Friday, I looked forward to our conversations. Burberry Prep life feels much emptier without her.


    ¡°She¡¯s still in love with him, too,¡± Miranda adds with a wistful, sad sounding sigh. ¡°She¡¯s going to marry that douche guy, what¡¯s-his-face, the one that always adjusts his junk and licks his lips while he does it? Anyway, she¡¯s going to marry him, but it¡¯s going to be Tristan she¡¯s dreaming about on her wedding night.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he still loves her?¡± I ask, an idea taking ce in the back of my mind. Even though I know it¡¯s ridiculous, I wait with bated breath for Miranda to answer my question.


    ¡°Definitely,¡± she says, and it¡¯s like an arrow¡¯s just gone through my heart. Doesn¡¯t make any sense. As soon as I saw Tristan look at Lizzie Waltonst year, I knew it, too. Everyone knows it. He never loved me. How could he? It was a game all along. Although ZaFk ¡­ Nope. I shut that part of my brain down and refuse to go there. Dating Zack won¡¯t work, not with the ns I already have in mind. ¡°Why? You want to share a room with him on the ski


    trip or something?¡± Miranda chuckles, and I wrinkle my nose. ¡°Are you


    jealous?¡±


    ¡°Gross,¡± Iugh, pushing at her as she pushes back at me. ¡°I¡¯m not going on the ski trip.¡± Miranda blinks stupidly at me. Instead of the winter formal, second-years are given the option to attend an academy-sponsored ski trip. The cars leave thest Friday before winter break, and drop students at their houses (or the airport) on Tuesday which is Christmas Eve.


    ¡°You have to go on the ski trip,¡± she groans, putting her forehead down on the pic table. We¡¯re sitting outside, enjoying the icy morning and the bright rays of sunshine that make the frost evaporate like fog. ¡°It¡¯s a rite of passage.¡±


    ¡°Thest time you used that phrase on me, you dragged me to that beach party.¡±


    ¡°And you had fun, despite the assholes in residence, right?¡± she asks, lifting her head up from the table. I sigh, and Miranda smiles softly. ¡°I know you want to get back home to your dad, but it¡¯s just a few days.¡± I give her a skeptical look, tapping my fingers on the table. ¡°Oh, at least think about, Ms. Revenge. But factor this in, at least: there¡¯s so much cheating and fooling around on the ski trip that it¡¯s now academy legend to call the lodge Hookup Point.¡± She grins at me as I raise my eyebrows. ¡°Do you see how messed-up Jalen and Ebony still are from the journal? Come on the ski trip, and I guarantee you¡¯ll find some dirt worth digging up.¡±


    ¡°After some careful consideration ¡­¡± I begin, and Miranda squeals withughter, giving me a huge hug. From the corner of my eye, I see Creed watching us and flip him off.


    His sister would rather be with me than with him.


    He smirks at me as he rounds the corner, and I see then that he¡¯s got Anna Kirkpatrick on his arm.


    Hmm.


    Fine. Challenge epted is right.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± I tell Miranda, watching Anna carefully.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    If she¡¯s not messing around with one of the other Bluebloods, I¡¯ll be sho


    cked.


    Loyalty isn¡¯t exactly in their DNA.

 116

    The door to the music room opens, and Zayd walks in, surprising me. He¡¯s got his fingers tucked into the pockets of his wrinkled white academy cks. His jacket is nowhere to be seen, and his tie is loose and flipped over his right shoulder. With the sleeves rolled up, I can see two muscr arms wrapped in ink.


    My fingers pause in their dance across the harp strings, putting an end to the harp solo from Donizetti¡¯s opera LuFia di Lammermoor. I sit back in my chair and watch him warily as he approaches. Mr. Carter is in his attached office with the door closed, so nothing truly bad can happen here. I cross my arms over my chest and wait.


    Oddly enough, one of the things I miss most fromst year is having Tristan attend my orchestra practices. Having him sit in one of the back rows, fingers steepled, eyes locked on me ¡­ There was an intensity in him that transferred to my music. I feel like I yed better when he was around.


    Zaydes all the way down the steps of the auditorium and pauses next to the raised tform in the front. I¡¯d call it a stage, but it¡¯s only ever used for teachers giving lectures. No performances actually happen here.


    ¡°Is this how you got me?¡± he asks, reaching up to rake his fingers through his pale blue hair. He looks around the room like he¡¯s never seen it before. But I know he¡¯s in here all the time. That look of sweet, mussy confusion is bullshit, just like all his other expressions. Zayd ys charming very, very well. ¡°Eavesdropped outside this door and fucked me?¡±


    ¡°All I did was upload your own words to one website.¡± I hold up a single finger. ¡°One.¡± His green eyes meet my brown ones, and I can¡¯t deny that there¡¯s chemistry between us. There¡¯s always chemistry between us, whether I want to admit it or not. His being a jerk doesn¡¯t change that. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t said those things, then they wouldn¡¯t be around to haunt you.¡±


    I lift my hands back to the strings of the harp, and get ready to y again, dismissing him. He doesn¡¯t go anywhere though, just sits down to watch and listen. I y through three songs before I realize he¡¯s not going away, dropping my hands to myp and ring.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I ask, and Zayd smiles tightly. He uses his tongue and ys with his lip rings for a moment before responding.


    ¡°I have to admit,¡± he says, tapping inked fingers on the arm of the chair, ¡°you¡¯ve got bigger balls than I thought.¡±


    I frown at him.


    ¡°Bigger ovaries, maybe?¡± I almost smile, but Zayd just shrugs and stands up. He¡¯s like a dream in the white second-year uniform. It¡¯s as if the totalck of color on his outfit emphasizes how much color he¡¯s got all over his skin. He moves over to stand beside me, and my breath catches in my throat. I know I¡¯m not the only one that notices. Zayd reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I let him, even though I know I shouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Whatever you want to call it, you¡¯ve got it. Big balls, irond uterus, deep dark mojo ¡­ Anyway,¡± he points two fingers at me, like he¡¯s miming a gun, ¡°you shot me right in the crotch with that one. Bull¡¯s- eye, bingo, win for you. The recordbel¡¯s just pulled my new album.¡± He frowns down at me, and there¡¯s a well of sadness in his emerald green eyes that surprises me. It mirrors the face of the girl whose expression I saw in my reflection that dayst year. So good. He¡¯s hurting. It¡¯s what I wanted, isn¡¯t it?


    ¡°There will be a new album,¡± I say with a sigh, putting my hands in myp. I have special permission to wear white academy cks when ying the harp. It¡¯s a pedal harp, so I need to use my foot, and if I wore the standard second-year skirt there would be more on disy than just my music. ¡°That¡¯s the problem with all of you; you¡¯ll never know what it¡¯s truly like to hurt. There¡¯s always more money, new opportunities, underhanded favors ¡­¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Zayd shakes his head, and reaches into his pocket to pull out a small packet of papers. He hands them over to me, and I hesitate a moment before taking them.


    ¡°Nah, not this time. My dad is so pissed, he thinks this might affect his career too, so he¡¯s asked thebel to drop mepletely.¡± Zayd waits a moment as I unfold the papers, frowning as I find a copy of the test I took on Friday. Well, the test is the same, but the answers are not the ones I gave. My name might be on top of the paper, but this is not my test. ¡°You are now looking at an unsigned, penniless musician.¡± Zaydughs and reaches up to twist his gelled hair into little spikes.


    I¡¯m so distracted by the test, and the essay underneath it which also has my name but not my words, that it takes me a moment to register what he¡¯s just said. I look up.


    ¡°They don¡¯t want you to, like, give a statement or something?¡± I ask. Zayd gives me this wry little smirk, like he could care less. It¡¯s quite obvious he cares a whole hell of a lot.


    He ignores my question, brushing it aside with a wave of his hand.


    ¡°Look, you¡¯re not going to catch Tristan with his hands in the cookie jar.¡± Zayd reaches out to tap the papers in my hand, and our fingers brush together. Heat leaps from his skin to mine, and we both shiver. It¡¯s not fair. It¡¯s not fair that I have chemistry with an asshole like Zayd Kaiser. ¡°That¡¯s a test with a score of about ¡­¡± Zayd pauses to think for a minute. ¡°Sixty-five percent? In the essay, that¡¯s a copy of Gena Whitley¡¯s essay fromst year. giarism and all that.¡±


    ¡°Why do these things have my name on them?¡± I ask, feeling my heart thunder wrapped rapidly in my chest. It should¡¯ve urred to me that the idols would try to strike me where it would hurt most (other than my dad, of course): academics. I look up at Zayd. ¡°And why are you showing me these?¡±


    ¡°Becky left her jacket with me the other day,¡± Zayd starts, rolling his eyes like he just can¡¯t with her. The funny thing is, they are two peas in a pod; they deserve each other. ¡°These fell out of it. I have to take them to her now, and I figure when she does her third period office work tomorrow, organizing Miss Peregrine¡¯s papers, she¡¯ll swap these out for your real test and essay.¡±


    Zayd reaches out to take the papers, and I let him, thoroughly confused. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± I repeat, as Zayd tucks the papers away


    into his bookbag. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    The guys have been much easier on me this year thanst year, but that doesn¡¯t make any sense. They must be gearing up for something big.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± Zayd says, turning away and ncing over his shoulder at me, ¡°as soon as I found out that Becky had hit you, I haven¡¯t touched her. I just couldn¡¯t.¡± Zayd wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to get hurt, so please, for the love of all that¡¯s holy, Charity, just go.¡±


    Zayd turns back around and heads up the stairs. I watch him go, and then I do my best toe up with a n


    .

 117

    After cheerleading practice the next day, I head to the office of our English teacher, Miss Peregrine. The room is locked and dark, the lights off, and the shade over the small window pulled down. To get in, I¡¯m either going to need a key¡­ or a lockpick.


    Cursing under my breath, I head back to the chapel building, down the hall and out the stained ss doors on the other side. Once I get to Tower Three, I take the elevator to the fifth floor and head over to Zack¡¯s room. I barely raise my fist to knock when he¡¯s opening it, dressed in low-slung sweats, no shirt, and a fineyer of fresh sweat.


    ¡°Marnye?¡± he asks, stepping aside to let me in. There is some seriously sexy jazz music on, and all the shades are pulled down. For a moment there, I wonder if I¡¯m interrupting something that I don¡¯t want to see.


    I spin around, and find Zack is suddenly standing far too close to me. He smells good too, which is really weird considering he¡¯s all sweaty. But seriously, there¡¯s something so different between fresh sweat and old sweat. Thetter is disgusting, but the former ¡­ it¡¯s almost like a cologne. I find myself attracted to it even though I don¡¯t want to be.


    ¡°Is there a girl in here?¡± I ask, and Zack narrows his eyes on me. He takes a step forward, and I take one back. The movement surprises him, and he ends up raising one of his dark brows.


    ¡°That bother you?¡± he replies, his voice dark and smooth and cold as bittersweet chocte ice cream. He takes a step toward me again, but I have


    nowhere to go. My butt bumps up against the table, and Zack puts one hand on either side of me.


    ¡°No,¡± I lie, ducking out from underneath his arm and stepping aside. When I turn back to face him again, he¡¯s smirking. My first instinct is to wipe that look off of his face, but instead I just sigh. ¡°When we went to Lower Banks, didn¡¯t you get in trouble for stealing a car?¡±


    Zack is still smirking as he leans back against the table and crosses his muscr arms over his bare, sweaty chest. We always seem to be together when he¡¯s shirtless, Zack and me. Like the universe is trying to throw us together.


    ¡°Yeah, so?¡± He looks me up and down appreciatively, and I shiver. I¡¯m wearing the short ck practice shorts with the rhinestones on the butt cheeks that I hate, a pair of red bike shorts underneath, and a ck razorback tank top with the Burberry crest logo on the front. Even cheerleading praFtiFees with required uniforms.


    ¡°I need your help,¡± I say, hating the phrase even as it leaves my mouth. ¡°Could you pick a lock on a teacher¡¯s door?¡±


    Zack thinks for a moment, letting his chin fall down and his eyes close. After a moment, he looks back up at me and gives me a sexy sideways smirk.


    ¡°I could. It¡¯s risky though, with the bodyguard guy patrolling the halls, and all those new cameras. But if we had a cover story, some reason to be over there that didn¡¯t involve ¡­ whatever it is that you¡¯re up to, it might work.¡± His smirk turns into a grin, and I shift ufortably. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this has to do with the revenge plot?¡±


    ¡°Maybe ¡­¡± I hedge, and Zack¡¯s grin gets a little wider.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°Let me put a shirt on then.¡± He pauses and takes a few steps closer to me, his chocte brown eyes staring at me through his thickshes. ¡°Unless


    ¡­ you¡¯d rather I wasn¡¯t wearing one?¡±


    ¡°Shirt is fine,¡± I blurt, holding my ground. ¡°But if you have an extra sweater, I¡¯ll take it. It¡¯s freezing outside.¡± Zackughs at me, and snatches his hoodie from the back of the couch, tossing it over to me. I slip it on and quickly realize that drowning in a big, soft, Zack-scented hoodie is both a blessing and a curse. If I were his girlfriend, I¡¯d wear his hoodie all the time.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zack says, taking in my much smaller form as I burrow in his hoodie, and running his tongue over his lower lip. ¡°Sure, and lock picking kit.¡±


    ¡°You brought a lock picking kit to the academy?¡±


    Zack nces over his shoulder and grins, this dark sensual expression that gives me goose bumps.


    ¡°I guess you can take the boy out of the bad school, but you can¡¯t take the bad out of the boy.¡± He winks theatrically at me, and I can¡¯t decide if what he¡¯s just said is sexy or hrious.


    I choose the safer option andugh, but that doesn¡¯t mean that my heart doesn¡¯t race or that I don¡¯t bundle the hoodie close around me.


    Zack and I head outside together, moving through the winter-dead gardens toward a cluster of admin buildings. There are a few students here and there, but because of the cold front we gotst week, most people are still inside. It really is chilly out here.


    Campus security patrols the area regrly, and I know there are cameras, too. I also know that the footage isn¡¯t regrly checked, not unless there¡¯s a problem.


    Besides, Zack says he has a n.


    As we approach the door to Miss Peregrine¡¯s office, Zack grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around, looking straight into my face with a very serious expression.


    ¡°Will you trust me with this?¡± he asks, voice sober. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to trust me all the time, just right now.¡±


    I nod my head, and before I know it, Zack is backing me up against the door. He wraps his right arm around my waist, pressing our bodies together. His mouth drops to mine, warm breath fluttering across my lips.


    ¡°Can I kiss you again?¡± he whispers, and then he smiles softly. We¡¯re so close, I can feel the emotion against my own mouth. ¡°It¡¯s all part of the n, of course. Although, I can¡¯t deny that seeing you in my hoodie isn¡¯t exciting as fuck.¡±


    With his left hand, Zack pulls a small metal tool from inside his pocket, and inserts it into the lock on the door. There¡¯s not much in these offices but


    papers, framed certificates, and desks, so the locks aren¡¯t exactly high-tech. I imagine Zack will have us in in no time.


    I also suddenly understand what he meant by having a n. If we¡¯re caught, all the security guard will see are two students making out. They won¡¯t see the lockpick, and they won¡¯t need to ask what we¡¯re doing out here. Even if we get in trouble, we can im we were trying to get into the office to ¡­ have some


    private time together.

 118

    The logical part of me wants to admit that this is a brilliant n; the nonlogical part of me has a racing heart, sweating palms, and a sudden heat ring between her thighs.


    ¡°Kiss me,¡± I choke out, before I can lose my nerve and take off running. Not only is what I¡¯m about to do important for my revenge against Tristan, but it¡¯s also important so that I don¡¯t lose what I¡¯ve worked so hard for. If that giarized essayes out, I could very well be expelled.


    Honestly, some part of me, buried in the deep dark shadows of my chest, has her feelings hurt. I knew Tristan wasn¡¯t a good guy, but I always thought that at least when it came to academics, we are willing to fight clean. Looks like I was wrong. And that kills me. ¡°Do it-¡± I start, and Zack cuts me off with a punishing kiss that¡¯s all heat and passion and desire.


    His right arm flexes, and it¡¯s a joy to feel those rock-hard muscles pulling me against him, tucking my body against his. His smell, that grapefruit and nutmeg musk of his, surrounds me like a cloud. Not only does he smell glorious, but his hoodie¡¯s not half-bad either.


    His tongue slides across my lower lip, dives into my mouth, and draws an embarrassing groan from me. My hands fist in the front of the hoodie that he¡¯s wearing, and within seconds, there¡¯s the clicking sound of a lock, and the pair of us are stumbling into the empty office.


    Zack heels the door shut behind him, but he doesn¡¯t stop kissing me. In fact, I somehow end up sitting on the edge of Miss Peregrine¡¯s desk with his huge body between my thighs. He pushes up against me, and I can feel a hardness in his sweats that wasn¡¯t there before.


    This is suFh a bad idea, I think to myself, but that doesn¡¯t stop me from wrapping my legs around him and kissing harder. Zack is moaning now, too, and after he slips the little metal lockpick back into his pocket, he uses both hands to cup my ass. His fingers knead my flesh as I arch into him. Heat blossoms so wild and hot between us, that I almost forget what I¡¯m doing and why I¡¯m there ¡­ that I almost forget what he did to me.


    Then the realization of where we are and how dangerous this is hits me.


    My palmse up to push against Zack¡¯s chest, and he pauses, lifting his mouth just slightly away from mine. I can still feel the hardness between his legs, and the answering heat between mine.


    ¡°Will you keep watch at the door?¡± I whisper, and Zack closes his eyes like he¡¯s in pain. He exhales sharply, closes his eyes and nods before stepping away. When he turns around, and thinks I¡¯m not looking, he reaches into his sweats and ¡­ adjusts himself.


    Even with my body flushed and hot, and a warm liquid feeling between my thighs, I manage to get up and find a stack of papers next to a scanner and a shredder. There are instructions on the wall,minated, and impossible to miss.


    SFan both sides of the assignment.


    CheFk to make sure the images are readable.


    Shred the pages.


    Make sure eaFh assignment file isbeled with the student¡¯s name and ID number.


    Shit.


    Frantically, I search the stack of papers in the wire basket next to the scanner, and breathe a huge sigh of relief when I find the ones with my name on them. Next, I search out Tristan¡¯s assignments.


    For a moment, I get lost in the words of this essay. He¡¯s a brilliant writer, maybe better than me even. I tell myself I¡¯m reading the assignment to make sure this n will actually work, if there¡¯s anything in Tristan¡¯s essay that will give the fake one I wrote away. But no, even though he¡¯s a good writer, he¡¯s like me: he only writes academically, not with his heart or soul.


    The only time I wrote that way¡­ No. I refuse to think about Creed reading my essay aloud. I got him back, and I got him back good.


    I take Tristan¡¯s essay, fold it up, and slip it into the front pocket of the hoodie. Then I take out two more essays from inside that giant pocket, one that¡¯s a reprint of the essay I originally turned in, and one that¡¯s a usible but pretty terrible essay. I thought about writing Tristan an F-worthy paper, but I thought that might be too obvious. I even considered putting his name on Gena Whitley¡¯s giarized essay, but that¡¯s not my style either.


    I slip the two new essays back into the pile, making sure I put them in the same spots that the others were before. The giarized essay with my name on it also goes in my pocket, and then I do the same for the tests. Only this time, since the names can be easily erased, all I do is put my name on Tristan¡¯s paper, and his on the one that was nted by Becky.


    ¡°One of the campus security guards just walked by,¡± Zack whispers. ¡°This might be a good time to slip out.¡±Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    I double and triple check to make sure that we have everything we came with, and that everything is left exactly as is.


    When I move to stand beside Zack, he nces over at me, his gaze still lust-darkened, his lips still swollen from our kisses.


    He opens the door and we step outside, making sure it¡¯s locked before we close it. We head back to the chapel building; I disappear into my dorm and close the door quickly behind me while Zack pads off down the hallway.


    We don¡¯t talk about what happened in Miss Peregrine¡¯s office for a long, long time.


    Next week, just before winter break, when grades are posted again, Tristan¡¯s drops substantially and I am now clearly in the lead again.


    Take that, asshole.

 119

    ¡°Tristan is furious,¡± Creed says, as he drapes himself over the chair next to mine in preparation for our tutoring session. I nce over at him, but I have this rule about having personal or private conversations with the Idol guys. It¡¯s just a no-go at this point.


    Still, I can¡¯t help myself from teasing him.


    ¡°Whatever for?¡± I ask innocently, using my academy-issued iPad to pull up the assignment that we¡¯re supposed to be working on.


    Creedughs, and hisugh is just aszy as everything else about him.


    Insouciant. Cavalier. Disregardful.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t act like such an innocent littlemb,¡± he purrs, leaning in toward me, his eyes half-lidded, a wry smile on his lips. We haven¡¯t talked about what happened on Halloween. I imagine we¡¯re never going to. ¡°We all knew what Tristan, Harper and Becky had nned. So who told you?¡± I ignore him and focus on the assignment. Not only am I helping him with his, but I also have toplete mine. ¡°Was it Zayd?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you focus more on your work and less on what everybody else is doing? Maybe then you could stop being second-best to Tristan.¡± I make myself smile as Creed frowns. In the back of my mind, I¡¯m still dreaming up ways to mess with Tristan Vanderbilt. All I did this time was avert disaster for myself. Knocking him back to the second ce spot he would¡¯ve been in anyway if he¡¯d left my essay and test alone, is not enough.


    I think my only option at this point is Lizzie. I¡¯m going to have to give her a call after this.


    Creed reaches over suddenly, grabbing the arms of my chair and turning me to face him. One of his knees goes between my legs, and his hands keep my wrists pinned to the armrests. He leans in so close that our cheeks almost touch.


    ¡°If we wanted to,¡± he starts, putting his mouth to my ear and giving it a little lick, ¡°we could destroy you and have you begging for more within the span of a week. We could make your entire life a living hell, not just the one you have at the school.¡±


    Since Creed¡¯s knee is between my thighs, that puts my own knee up close and personal with his crotch. I knee him hard in the junk, and he releases me, rearing back like I¡¯ve ¡­ well, just kicked him in the balls. His eyes narrow to slits.


    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then why haven¡¯t you done it already?¡± He stares back at me and says nothing, does nothing. ¡°I know your personal reasons, but what about Tristan? What about Zayd?¡± I stand up from the table, shoving my supplies into my bookbag and turning a full-force re on Creed. ¡°Here¡¯s some dirt to deliver back to the King.¡± Creed¡¯s face twists in disgust at the word. ¡°Tell him that I¡¯m nowhere near done with him. If he wants to mess with the bull, he¡¯s going to get the horns.¡± I lift my chin up, spinning in a swirl of skirts, and take off through the quiet darkness of the library.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    Creed doesn¡¯t bother to follow or call after me. But that ce where he licked my ear ¡­ it still burns.


    There¡¯s a party the Thursday before winter formal, and the day before the second year¡¯s leave for their ski trip. The only reason I know about it is because the Idols paid one of the Plebs to use their off-campus privileges to go and buy them new dresses. The girl, that very same rissa that badmouthed me and was banned from the swim team by Zaydst year, is the one talking about it in the hall as I walk by.


    After sses let out for the day, I dress up, head over to Zack¡¯s room, and pray that he is not shirtless and wearing shorts again before I knock.


    When he answers, he¡¯s still dressed in his academy uniform, and he raises his brows at the pink jumpsuit and heels I¡¯ve got on.


    ¡°You look nice,¡± he says, and the way the word nicees out of his mouth ¡­ I know he means a whole hell of a lot more than just that. My cheeks flush, but I manage to hold his gaze without stuttering.


    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯m on a mission tonight. Would you mind apanying me?¡± Zack looks pretty shocked, but I know I can¡¯t go to an Infinity Club party without an Infinity Club member. I thought about asking Andrew, but despite Creed¡¯s warnings, Greg and John are stalking him in the hallways, trying to find him alone in a dark corner, if you know what I mean. Last time it happened, it was a Saturday night, and Andrew videoed the entire encounter. He just barely managed to make it back to his dorm in time. So I don¡¯t want to put Andrew in danger, and the only Infinity Club member I know that I don¡¯t have an ongoing feud with is Zack.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    I smile, and with my left hand, I y with the ne hanging around my throat.


    ¡°To the Infinity Club party.¡±


    Zack¡¯s smile falls away, but mine stays right where it is.


    This time, the Idols havemandeered the use of the amphitheater, the same one that I was beat up in, doused with paint, and humiliated beyond belief.


    Does not feel like a coincidence to me.


    Zack leads the way, dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and an old football hoodie from hisst school. He peels down his waistband and shows his infinity tattoo to the guy at the door before we head inside. Thest few Club parties I¡¯ve been to didn¡¯t seem this official. They must be amping up security.


    ¡°You could¡¯ve taken him,¡± I whisper, smiling, ¡°even though he is a fourth year, and I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s on the varsity team based on the way he red at you.¡±


    Zack gives me a little grin and shrugs his massive shoulders.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s on the team, so by default he hates my guts.¡± His mouth twitches a little. ¡°But yeah, you¡¯re right: I could¡¯ve taken him. Thing is, I¡¯m guessing you have some special shit to stir up tonight. I didn¡¯t want to steal all of your thunder.¡± Zack keeps my arm tucked in his as we weave through rows of seats filled with students making out, drinking, or ying cards. On the stage at the front of the room, that very same stage I sat on with my harp, the Bluebloods are situated around tables covered in what look like ¡­ knuc


    kle bones? Gross.

 120

    ¡°You remember the n right?¡± I ask Zack, as I feel all of those judging eyes swing over to me. He nods briefly, and we make our way up the steps towards the table where Tristan, Zayd, and Creed are sitting with Becky, Harper, and Ileana.


    Tristan sneers at me, and tosses the bones on the table. I mean, he can¡¯t exactlyin about what I did to him considering it was a lot less bad than what he wanted to do to me. I didn¡¯t give him the giarized essay, even though I could have.


    ¡°You must be stupid, if you came here willingly,¡± he snaps, losing that practiced self-control that I both hated and admired fromst year. I can see the faintest outline of a bruise on his face, and my hand clenches into a small fist at my side. As much as I dislike the guy, I think his dad might be beating him. That¡¯s never okay.


    ¡°Are those bones?¡± I ask, looking skeptically at the little white and cream- colored bits on the table. Harper flips her brte waves over her shoulder and smirks at me. Her right handes to rest on Tristan¡¯s, and she weaves their fingers together before giving his a squeeze. Much as I hate to admit it, the sight makes me feel sick to my stomach.


    ¡°My dad has a private museum in his New York penthouse. He¡¯s a bit of the Civil War nut.¡± The way Harper¡¯s smiling at me reminds me of the Grinch, like the expression is crawling across her face like a disease. ¡°He has a whole storage room full of useless artifacts he¡¯s forgotten about. These bones were never going to see the light of day anyway, so I borrowed them.¡± She shrugs her shoulders, her shimmery ck dress catching the light. ¡°And they only cost him, what, four or five hundred K?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ying jacks with real human knuckle bones?¡± Zack snarls, stepping up so close to the table that it rattles. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have any respect? These aren¡¯t just game pieces, these are parts of actual human beings.¡±


    I speak up before anyone else can, letting my history buff side show.


    ¡°In France, in the 1800s, when the church moved bones from a crowded cemetery to the now famous catbs, there were big holes left in the ground filled with human fat. Merchants gathered the stuff and made candles and soap. They thenbeled them as the Innocents, and sold them to the wealthy who knowingly used them despite being aware of where they came from. They actually liked that, thinking of human beings as worth so little they could burn them simply to light a room.¡± I turn to look at Zack, even as Becky sneers and starts bitching.


    ¡°Like we give a crap about some stupid history lesson. They¡¯re long dead, and nobody gives a shit but you what happens to the bones of some dumb ass soldiers. If they mattered, they¡¯d have been generals or presidents or politicians, and their bones wouldn¡¯t have been rotting in some storage unit.¡± Becky reaches up to touch her hair, which is twisted, coiffed, and covered with so much hairspray that it¡¯s hard to see the chunk that I cut off. Knowing it¡¯s there is enough for me though.


    I ignore her and focus on that, fully aware that Creed and Zayd are watching me.


    ¡°Certain individuals see other humans as lesser than them, like they think they¡¯re gods or something. But tell me: how does a god get an ugly, bald patch shaved off the side of their head?¡±


    Becky stands up, like she¡¯s going tounch yourself at me. I just stand there and stare at her as Harper grabs her arm and digs her fingernails into her best friend¡¯s skin. The two of them exchange a look that I can¡¯t quite read.


    ¡°We¡¯re here because I want to make a bet,¡± Zack says, looking from Creed to Zayd to Tristan. He pauses with his dark brown gaze hooked on Tristan¡¯s cold gray one. ¡°The three of you. Let¡¯s hit up a table and talk.¡± He gestures with his chin and walks away, but ording to him, and the rules of the Infinity Club, when someone challenges you to a bet, you¡¯re required to at least hear them out.


    ¡°This shit is so fucked-up,¡± Zayd murmurs as he rises to his feet, raking his fingers through his hair. Creed says nothing as he, too, stands up. Tristan


    is thest one to get up, but as he moves away, he brushes his shoulder against mine, and I swear I see stars. He stops suddenly, like he didn¡¯t expect that. Low, almost inaudibly, I hear his voice near my ear.


    ¡°You are unfrigging believable,¡± he murmurs, and I can¡¯t quite decide if that¡¯s an insult or apliment. I watch the four boys move away before taking Tristan¡¯s seat at the table.


    ¡°You are not a part of the Infinity Club,¡± Ileana snaps at me, curling her gold painted lips up over her teeth. She¡¯s right: that tattoo on my hip burns as if it¡¯s being freshly etched into my skin. I am not a part of the Infinity Club and I never will be. Thank God.


    ¡°No, but I¡¯m here as a sponsored guest. I can make a bet, too.¡± I fold my arms on the table, careful not to touch any of the knuckle bones. If there was some way for me to take them, and donate them to a museum or give them a proper burial or something, I would. As things stand, all I can do is throw out a silent apology to the souls that used to belong to these bits of ivory. ¡°And trust me: you¡¯re gonna want to make this bet.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Harper drawls, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. Her blue eyes sparkle with hate as she takes me in. ¡°And why exactly would I want to do that? I could simply ¡­ call my family¡¯s medical center and tell them to stop treating your father. Basically, bitch, you¡¯re mine.¡±


    My heart stops, and I feel this cold fear creep over me. But I suspected this; I knew this wasing. Hell would freeze over before Harper would help me willingly.


    I sit still, keep smiling, and refuse to show my cards.


    ¡°How about this,¡± I start, meeting her eyes and refusing to acknowledge the other two girls. She¡¯ll love that, the self-professed queen of the school. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a bet: if I win, you give my dad the same medical care that you¡¯d give to your own father.¡± I pause for a minute. ¡°No, you give my father better medical care than you¡¯d give your own father. The best of the best, spare no expense. If you win, I will get on my knees before you in front of the entire school and tell everyone that you were right, that I¡¯m worse than a Pleb, or that I¡¯m a whore, whatever. I¡¯ll kiss your feet, and I¡¯ll pack up and leave the academy and you¡¯ll never have to see me again.¡±


    Harper¡¯s leaning forward now, her eyes shining, her sociopathic tendencies showing all over her face. I¡¯m not sure that I¡¯ve ever really known what the


    word hate means until now. I don¡¯t think I hated the Idol guys, not even after what they did to me. Pretty sure I hate Harper du Pont right now.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening ¡­¡± She purrs, her voice like needles as it digs into my eardrums. She reeks of peaches too, and I decide the scent is now entirely ruined for me. Every time I smell it, I¡¯ll think of her and that disgusting smile.


    ¡°If I lose, you can pull my father¡¯s medical carepletely. But for now, you keep treating him.¡± Harper narrows her eyes, but at least she¡¯s still listening. ¡°Here¡¯s the bet: by the end of the year, I make Tristan, Creed, and Zayd fall in love with me.¡± Her eyes widen in disbelief, and the look of glee that shes over her face tells me that she already thinks that she¡¯s won, that what I¡¯m proposing is an impossibility. I keep talking. ¡°But you are all forbidden from telling them about this bet. If I get them toe with me to the second-year graduation getaway, that counts, and I win.¡±


    ¡°You could just trick them into driving with you or something,¡± Becky sneers, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. ¡°No, they have to show up, with you or not, but they all have to think that you¡¯re going to be their date to the party that night. They have to want you to be their date.¡± She smirks at me, and I purse my lips, but I nod anyway.


    ¡°Theye with me to the graduation getaway at theke, and I win. If they don¡¯t, at the party that night, I¡¯ll do what I said. I¡¯ll give in, I¡¯ll give up, and I¡¯ll leave. You¡¯ll win.¡± Harper considers this for a moment, rolling one of the knuckle bones around on her palm.


    ¡°Fine. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to stop tormenting you.¡± She smirks at me again, and I just know she¡¯s already got something nned. ¡°There is no truce between us, but I¡¯ll let your pathetic father beg scraps from my medical clinic. When I win,¡± she continues, and her use of the word when does not escape me, ¡°I want your humiliation filmed, and you are going to be the one who posts it on YouTube from your own ount.¡±


    My nostrils re, but I nod anyway, and reach out to take her hand. We shake on it, while Becky and Ileana exchange looks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯re getting out of this bet,¡± Ileana sneers, and I¡¯m surprised to see how well she fits into this pit of snakes. She might be a first year, but she¡¯s just as vicious as the other two Idols. ¡°My father has a team of secret police, and I¡¯m not afraid to use them.¡±


    Her threat does not go unnoticed, but I ignore her as I rise to my feet, head off in search of Zack, and hope that the Idol guys turned down whatever


    ridiculous bet that he came up with. If they realize it¡¯s a ruse, too bad. If the girls tell, Harper automatically loses.


    ¡°Oh by the way,¡± Harper calls out, and I turn around. She lifts her left hand and shes me a massive rock on her ring finger. The ring that she¡¯s wearing, I bet its worth is in the millions. The ne I wore tonight to piss Tristan off feels like a cheap trinket from ire¡¯s inparison. I manage to keep my expression calm, my face schooled, even though on the inside I feel like I might puke. ¡°Tristan and I are engaged now. Thought you might want to know that.¡±


    She, of course, waits until after I make the bet to throw out that bit of information. That sneaky, psycho bitch. But you know what? The best revenge of all is that I¡¯m still not worried. If I want Tristan, I can fucking get him.


    Without saying a word, I turn and walk away, a new n hatching in my mind.


    Not only is my bet with Harper part of my revenge plot, but for my father, I¡¯d do anything. There¡¯s more riding on all of thi


    s than just my damn pride.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.

 121

    The ski lodge is a mess of duffel bags, backpacks, and milling students. Everyone is dressed to suit the weather in beanies, scarves, ski pants, and boots. Miranda looks absolutely gorgeous in a head to toevender look, while I rock a pink outfit that she purchased for me as a surprise. I couldn¡¯t even begin to tell her how thankful I was; if she hadn¡¯t gotten this for me, I would be wearing jeans and a hoodie.


    Jessie and Andrew sip hot chocte on therge couch while the staff check us in, and start handing out room assignments. Me, I¡¯m too busy watching the double doors with the deer carved into them. Zack seems to realize that I¡¯m waiting for someone, but he doesn¡¯t say anything, pulling his beanie low over his ears and watching me. The way his eyes follow me across the room makes my body ache and throb with the memory of our kiss and the hardness between his thighs.


    I wonder what it would¡¯ve felt like to reach down and cup it ¡­


    My cheeks me, and I adjust my own pale pink beanie as Zayd¡¯s howlingughter fills up the entire room with its soaring ceilings and wood beams. There¡¯s a fire crackling in the firece, the one that¡¯s so big that five students could stand inside of itfortably. It should be homey in here, but it¡¯s difficult to enjoy it with the Bluebloods around.


    I sit down on an armchair while Miranda tells a story to Jessie and Andrew, gesturing so wildly with her hands that within a few minutes, she¡¯s got a good dozen people listening and chuckling. Creed watches his twin like


    a man starved, desperate for her affection and still denied it. That¡¯s my continuing revenge on him. As long as he continues to be a dick, his mom and sister are on my side.


    Tristan, on the other hand, is about to get a huge p to the face.


    I¡¯m so busy watching that door and waiting, that I don¡¯t notice Zack is gone until hees back, offering me up a cup of hot chocte and a smile. ¡°Here,¡± he says as he hands it over to me, a dollop of whipped cream and chocte sprinkles on the top. I cover it with my hands, grateful for the warmth after being outside. It was a long walk from the parking lot to the


    lodge¡¯s front door. ¡°Revenge requires sustenance after all.¡±


    I grin at him as I take a sip, his huge body perched on the arm of the chair I¡¯m sitting in. I¡¯m tempted toy my hand on his knee, but why? What would that even mean? So instead I keep my hands cupped around the hot chocte, and sip slowly.


    Mrs. Amberton hands me a key to room 301 and tells me that Miranda and I will be sharing. The whole school knows by now that Miranda and Jessie are dating, so Jessie is put in a room with a random Pleb girl I¡¯ve never seen before. Andrew and Zack are paired up, and my palms start to sweat as I notice Tristan heading up the stairs toward his room. I¡¯m not ready for him to leave yet. Not just yet ¡­


    As if she¡¯s taken sses on how to make a grand entrance (as far as I know, maybe she has), the double doors fly open with a swirl of snow and in walks Lizzie, dressed head to the toe in designer athletic wear, her red and ck id jacket slightly unbuttoned, just a hint of cleavage showing.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    She sees me right away and I stand up, handing my empty hot chocte to Zack before she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a huge hug. Last night, I messaged her to make peace. In reality, I¡¯ve added her name to my list and crossed it off in the same go around.


    Based on the conversation I had with Lizziest night-most of which consisted of her profusely apologizing to me and begging for my forgiveness


    -she doesn¡¯t know Tristan is engaged. I can tell by the way she talks about him, that she¡¯s still in love with him. When I nce over my shoulder and see him frozen on the stairs, one hand white-knuckled on the banister, his eyes all for her, I know he¡¯s in love with her, too.


    A few of Lizzie¡¯s friends are with her, all of them wearing matching Coventry Prep beanies, the school crest sewn into the side. It¡¯s a little cliquish for my taste, but it¡¯s nice to see a swarm of queen bees sweep into


    the room that are actually on my side. It has not escaped my notice that the Bluebloods are bristling.


    Lizzie¡¯s guardian approaches the counter and starts up a conversation with some of the Burberry Prep staff, wrapping her arms around Ms. Felton. A smile works its way onto my lips before I turn back to Lizzie herself.


    ¡°Our school doesn¡¯t do second-year trips, so it was a nice surprise to get your invite,¡± she says, her own engagement ring sparkling as she reaches up to tuck her ck curls behind one ear. She turns her amber gaze over to Zack, and they both smile sheepishly before turning their attentions back to me.


    Thest time I was in the same room with the two of them, I was having my heart broken in two. This is so much better because this time, it¡¯s Tristan and Lizzie who are going to feel that pain. Part of me aches at the idea of Lizzie getting hurt; she¡¯s so sweet and genuine. It¡¯s impossible to imagine her making that bet with Zack way back when. Either the two of them have changed immensely since then, or else they¡¯re as full of shit as the rest of the Bluebloods.


    ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re here,¡± I tell her, and I mean that, even if it is all a part of my plot. Ugh. It shouldn¡¯t be this hard for me to extract vengeance. I¡¯d rather just be a naive, happy chick with no vendettas. I decide that once I graduate from Burberry Prep, I¡¯m done with revenge plots forever. ¡°I don¡¯t ski, and I hear learning isn¡¯t exactly easy. I need you guys to take turns babysitting me in the lodge.¡±


    Lizzie chuckles, and it¡¯s such a gentle, culturedugh. She¡¯s pretty, too, and nice. I¡¯m damn near positive she¡¯s as close to perfect as any human being ever gets. That is, if you ignore the bet she made with Zack,


    Like a viper, Harper slithers over to us, shing her own ring in Lizzie¡¯s face.


    ¡°What ¡­ are you doing here?¡± Harper grinds out between her perfect, white teeth. She shes me a look of pure venom that I pretend not to notice. Lizzie¡¯s face shuts down as soon as she sees that ring, and a tension creeps into the air that has nothing to do with me. I¡¯m not even involved in their resulting stare down.


    ¡°I was invited,¡± Lizzie says, managing to maintain a fairly neutral expression. Impressive considering Harper¡¯s devolved into an ugly monster in the same span of time. Right on time, Tristan appears on Harper¡¯s left, his


    gray gaze focused on Lizzie. But only for a second ¡­ He then moves his attention over to me, and I¡¯m almost startled by it.


    ¡°Oh, honey,¡± Harper purrs,tching onto Tristan¡¯s arm. The way his mouth wrinkles into a sneer when she touches him tells me all I need to know. He doesn¡¯t like her, never will. Not that it matters. He¡¯ll marry her anyway if it¡¯s what¡¯ll give him the most money and power. My stomach twists into an infinity-shaped knot. ¡°The Working Girl invited your old girlfriend to ski with us. I¡¯m not impressed.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do about it?¡± he snaps at her, his face impassive. ¡°I can¡¯t exactly kick Lizzie and Charity out into the snow, now can I?¡± Harper gapes at him, flicking her tongue against the side of her mouth and leveling her re on Lizzie. I may as well be invisible. After all, it¡¯s not me that h


    er fiance¡¯s in love with.

 122

    Not yet, anyway.


    In my heart though, I wonder if I¡¯ll ever be able to wedge Lizzie out of that special ce in Tristan¡¯s chest. She could very well lose the bet for me. I exhale sharply, and Zack reaches down to take my hand, giving it a squeeze.


    ¡°You¡¯re engaged?¡± Lizzie whispers after a second, looking at Tristan from hurt baby doe eyes. I feel like I might cry for her. Damn it. Damn, damn, damn. Well, I¡¯m d I already crossed her name off the list. This is too much. ¡°You ¡­ could¡¯ve told me.¡±


    ¡°Publicly? At a party? Like how you told me?¡± Tristan snaps, his nostrils ring. He¡¯s trying to maintain hisposure and failing miserably. Harper looks gleeful right about now. I want to beat her up for them both. ¡°Why should I? What are we to each other? Clearly, not friends.¡±


    Lizzie¡¯s eyes blur with tears, and I grimace, squeezing Zack¡¯s hand back forfort.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she whispers, ¡°we¡¯re not friends. But that¡¯s okay: I didn¡¯te here for you.¡± She reaches down to take my hand, notices Zack¡¯s curled around it, and raises her brows. I quickly shake him off and grab onto her, pulling her away from the crowd and up the stairs.


    I think that¡¯s enough revenge for us both.


    This time, however, it doesn¡¯t taste quite so sweet.


    Lizzie falls asleep on my bed, so I take hers, and Miranda ends up staying with Jessie. I wonder if they¡¯re um, sleeping together, but I¡¯m too nervous to ask, so I don¡¯t say anything. We spend the next morning sitting in the lodge and eating from the buffet, sipping hot cocoa, and talking about the summer.


    Most all the Bluebloods have houses in the Hamptons and spend a good portion of their summer there. Lizzie and her friends cut them out of most of the important social engagements, and refused them entry into any of their parties. Even as she¡¯s describing her shadiness, she¡¯s trying to be nice about it.


    ¡°I mean, we didn¡¯t hurt anybody ¡­¡± she adds, but I¡¯m already smiling as I imagine Creed¡¯s, Zayd¡¯s, and Tristan¡¯s faces as they show up at the ce of a supposed party with their entourage, and find nothing and nobody. Amazing. Tristanes in the door covered in snow and sweating. When he sees Lizzie and me in the lodge, he scowls, storms up the stairs, and ms his door. While Lizzie¡¯s difort brings me zero joy, I quite like seeing


    Tristan throw tantrums like a child.


    It gets a little weird though on Sunday when his father shows up. Ie to find out that Mr. Vanderbilt owns the ce. Fantastic.


    Now, when he sees Lizzie, me, Andrew, Miranda, and Zack eating lunch in the restaurant the next day, there¡¯s this look that crosses his face that scares the crap out of me. William Vanderbilt could have me assassinated, and then cover it all up. That¡¯s how freaking rich he is. And clearly, he doesn¡¯t like me. Pretty sure he doesn¡¯t like Lizzie either, based on the way his eyes travel over our group, dismissing everyone but the two of us.


    For dinner that night, outdoor heaters are set up, and food is served on the patio. Surrounded by snow and glistening with twinkling white lights, it¡¯s magical. It¡¯s no ident that I slip into the shimmery ck dress that Tristan sent me for the graduation gst year. Or ¡­ the jewelry I so carefully select.


    Adjusting the watch on my right wrist, I step confidently outside and pass right by William¡¯s table. His eyes immediately catch on the red and ck


    Rolex that he gave to Tristan. If I could only use one word to describe his expression, it would be annihtion. I¡¯ve blown his mind.


    Tristan sees me a momentter, and this lick of fear takes over his face as he nces from me to his dad. Either William will think Tristan gave me the watch or else he¡¯ll have toe clean about throwing it in the trash.


    He grabs my wrist as I pass by, and heat shoots up my arm and spears me in the chest with mes. I meet his gray eyes without fear.


    ¡°What the hell are you ying at?¡± he asks, looking from the ne to the watch, and then back to my face. ¡°What is it that you want?¡±


    ¡°I want you to realize that what you did to me was wrong. I want you to treat people better in general. I want you to know that your money doesn¡¯t mean you can get away with murder.¡± I shake his grip off and shoulder past him, heading over to Lizzie¡¯s table. She watches me as I sit down, her brow scrunching slightly. ¡°You okay?¡± I ask, and she nods, spinning her engagement ring around on her finger.


    Andrew is watching her, too, and there¡¯s a dark mncholy to his expression that I wish I could wipe away. He doesn¡¯t want to be engaged at all, let alone to a girl. I feel sick with sadness for him.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Lizzie replies with a long exhale. We both watch as William summons his son to his side. Harsh, low words are spoken before Mr. Vanderbilt reaches out and grabs Tristan by the wrist so hard that his son cringes. My heart thunders, and I almost stand up. Lizzie puts her hand over mine. ¡°If you go over there, you¡¯ll make things worse.¡± Her voicees out in a near whisper as William drags his son into the lodge.


    I can¡¯t help it.


    I force myself out of my chair and weave through the crowd to the door, slipping inside and catching a glimpse of the two men moving in the direction of the VIP room on the opposite side of the lodge from the bar.


    I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m doing exactly, but I sneak over anyway. The door is closed, but I can hear voicesing from inside.


    ¡°¡­ themoner wearing your watch.¡± Tristan is dead silent.


    ¡°And Lizzie Walton? I¡¯ve forbidden you from seeing her. Do you think these secret trysts of yours are going to amount to anything but a bastard heir and a teen whore I¡¯ll have to pay off? What the hell is wrong with you?¡±


    ¡°A bastard like me, you mean? Am I such a goddamn disappointment?¡± My mouth drops open at the vitriol in Tristan¡¯s voice. There¡¯s the sharp crack


    of flesh on flesh, and I cringe, trying the door knob. It¡¯s locked.


    There¡¯s a long silence, like maybe they¡¯re waiting to see if whoever¡¯s on my side of the door will try it again. Finally, Tristan speaks up, his words mollified.


    ¡°It won¡¯t happen again,¡± Tristan says, his voice low and hoarse. ¡°Marnye must¡¯ve ¡­ thought it was okay to wear the watch after we slept together.¡± Slept together?! Gross. But I guess it¡¯s as usible a lie as anything else.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°You are engaged, son, to a du Pont. Do I need to remind you how important that is? Thepany is going under. Without their money, we lose everything. If you¡¯d like to live in the trailer next door to your whore, then by all means, keep defying me.¡± William pauses and sighs. ¡°And don¡¯t let me see you around Lizzie Walton again. This time, I¡¯m giving you a warning. You won¡¯t like what I do next time.¡±


    I scramble out of the way before the two of theme back out. I do not miss the blood on Tristan¡¯s mouth this time.


    When I get back to the room that night, I cross his name off my list, and feel fucking sick about it. I will never use William Vanderbilt against his son again. Never.


    But in my phone, there¡¯s a recording with his voice on it. Try me, asshole. Try me and see what happens.


    The rest of winter break is uneventful. Dad doesn¡¯t invite Jennifer over again although he does bring her up a few times. Zack stops by on Christmas day with gifts for me and dad. Charlie gets a pair of new boots, a Carhart jacket, and a shiny new tie. Me, I get keys in an envelope, and give Zack a look. There¡¯s the address for a storage unit on the other side.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I ask, but he just shrugs, wishes us happy holidays, and leaves.


    The next day, Dad and I drive to the storage ce, find the unit that Zack¡¯s written down, and unlock it with the keys. Inside, there¡¯s a golden pedal harp.


    My phone drops to the ground, and I p my hand over my mouth.


    The instrument that¡¯s sitting in that unit is worth over thirty-thousand dors.


    ¡°How are we going to get this home?¡± I choke out, once I¡¯ve finally fought back tears and found my breath. Sitting down in the wooden chair next to it, I strum my fingers across the strings and sigh at the beautiful notes. ¡°Where are we going to put it?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out, Marnye-bear,¡± Charlie says with a soft smile. And the next day, he shows me the cute little two bedroom house in Grenadine Heights that he¡¯s rented for us.


    Pre


    tty sure that¡¯s the best Christmas I¡¯ve ever had.

 123

    The wind teases my skirt, making it billow around my thighs just enough that my garters show. I ignore it, leaning against the wall of Tower Two with my shoulder. My pulse is racing with nerves, but I¡¯m excited to do this, to be the new student¡¯s guide. And I guarantee I¡¯ll do a hell of a lot better at my job than Tristan Vanderbilt did for me. I hadn¡¯t expected to get called into Principal Collins¡¯ office so bright and early, but that¡¯s the life of a student mentor. Guess they¡¯re going to actually make me earn those credits. And hey, maybe the new kid won¡¯t be as big of a dick as all the others?


    First day back at Burberry Prep Academy, and I¡¯ve already had a note shoved in my locker telling me to kill myself (so original, been there, done that, asshole). There was a dildo on the floor in my room, but I¡¯ve now got footage from my cameras showing Sai Patel and some of his own personal cronies putting it in there, and then taking turns snapping photos with my panties.


    It¡¯s fine though. I don¡¯t even need those pictures to destroy him. Miranda was right: I¡¯ve got pictures of Sai and Abigail making out at the lodge. All I have to do is show those to Greg, and it¡¯s game over.


    I watch the horizon, waiting for the shiny ck academy car to crest the hill. Standing up straight, I approach the front steps and wait as it rolls around the circr drive, andes to a slow stop, wheels crunching over the gravel. It feels like forever before the driver finally gets out and moves around to open the back door.


    My breath stops in my chest.


    One long leg extends from the back, cloaked in perfectly creased white cks. A long, lithe form follows, tall and handsome and wearing a bright, white grin.


    I¡¯d almost forgotten all those news articles Miranda shoved in my face. If she hadn¡¯t sent me the link to yet another expose on the guy, I would¡¯ve forgotten about himpletely. The world¡¯s youngest billionaire. Tenth in line to the throne. Great-grandson to the Queen of freaking Ennd.


    Windsor York.


    A freaking prince.Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, hello there,¡± he says, tilting his head to one side, his hazel eyes glimmering with color. There are specks of gold, green, and brown swimming in a blue-gray gaze. I¡¯m immediately mesmerized by the color. His red hair is short, but yfully mussy, tousled and dark, almost crimson. And that smile ¡­ it¡¯s impossible to look away from. ¡°Windsor York, at your service. You must be Marnye Reed?¡±


    I nod, but my throat is suddenly dry, and there are no words.


    The prince adjusts thepels of his second-year jacket and looks around, taking in the courtyard and the fountain with mild interest. He then adjusts his gaze to me, and mild interest turns to piqued curiosity. Windsor¡¯s eyes take me in, inch by inch, absorbing my appearance from head to toe. He seems to like what he sees, too, which makes my cheeks flush pink, and sends my heart racing.


    The new student I¡¯ve been asked to mentor is ¡­ a prinFe. A prinFe. A freaking prinFe?!


    ¡°You¡¯re quite the pretty little thing, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asks, his voice crisp with an English ent. If I said I wasn¡¯t into it, I¡¯d be lying. His grin sharpens up and he extends an elbow for me to take. ¡°I assumed they¡¯d be sending some crusty old school marm to give me a tour. This is much, muFh better.¡± He holds out his arm for me to take, and I just stand there like an idiot, staring. After a moment, he cocks his head to one side and makes this cute little moue with his mouth that sends my hormones into a frenzy. ¡°You don¡¯t want to escort me, mdy?¡± he asks, milking his ent for everything it¡¯s work. Swallowing hard, I take the prince¡¯s arm, and shivers crawl up and down my spine-good ones, too. Oh no. I feel like I crush far too easily on hot guys. It¡¯s a habit I really need to break. Who¡¯s to say this guy isn¡¯t as snooty, self-absorbed, and cruel as the rest of them?


    Bet he¡¯s worse.


    ¡°Do I ¡­¡± I start and then my throat gets so dry that I have to pause and swallow before continuing. ¡°I mean, should I call you prince?¡± I ask, and Windsor pauses for a moment before chuckling, this happy little sound that¡¯s pretty much the antithesis of all the other guys at this school-even Zayd. It¡¯s pretty refreshing actually.


    ¡°You know who I am? That¡¯s bloody fantastic. But prince? God no. Call me Windsor. Or Wind. Or even Windy, but preferably not if you¡¯re interested in dating me as that¡¯s what my grandmother calls me.¡± He pauses and shes another grin, whistling as we make our way through the courtyard. I¡¯m not quite sure how to respond to that, so I say nothing. After a minute, Windsor nces down at me with a slight frown and a single cocked brow. ¡°You don¡¯t then, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡± I ask and heughs at me again, but not like he¡¯s teasing, more like he finds me amusing.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to date me?¡± he rifies, and my flush intensifies. I look straight ahead, down the corridor toward the stained ss doors.


    ¡°I¡¯m not about dating anyone at this moment,¡± I say, and the wordse out so cryptic and full of meaning that both of Windsor¡¯s brows go up this time. Crap. He looks intrigued now, and I don¡¯t particrly want to be intriguing to anyone, not even to a gloriously handsome prince.


    ¡°Shame,¡± Windsor says, but at least he says it with a smile.


    We push through the doors to the chapel building ¡­ ande to a grinding halt.


    The Bluebloods are standing just inside the door, with Tristan and Harper at the front, Zayd, Becky, Creed, and the new girl, Ileana, just behind them. The rest of the Inner Circle is fanned out behind them. When Tristan sees me with Windsor, something dark lights up his eyes, and his frown pulls down the edges of his mouth.


    ¡°Are you Windsor York?¡± Ileana Taittinger asks, twisting her dark hair around a finger. The way she looks at the prince is terrifying, like she very well might eat him for breakfast. Her uniform top is unbuttoned, all the way to the scalloped ck edges of hercy bra. I nce at Windsor, expecting his eyes to drop right to her cleavage. Instead, he focuses on Tristan and smiles brightly.


    ¡°Windsor York, at your service. Please, call me Wind. And you are?¡± He tugs me forward with his hold on my arm, bringing me in close proximity to


    the Bluebloods. The way Becky res at me, I can almost feel her hatred burning holes in my skin. Her hair is pulled up into a bun, and hair-sprayed to high hell, but there¡¯s no missing the giant chunk I cut off, not today. A smirk teases the edges of my mouth, and she notices.


    ¡°Have you introduced yourself to the prince properly yet,¡± she schmoozes, miming a blow job with her hand, her tongue poking


    at the inside of her cheek.

 124

    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t asked him yet if he wants a blow job, but he already seems more interested in me than Zayd was in you. OnFe this is over, let¡¯s go baFk to my room and I¡¯ll suFk you off,¡± I coo, imitating her nasally voice. ¡°I can say with all honesty: I¡¯ve never been brushed off quite so thoroughly as you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking kill you!¡± Becky screams,unching herself forward. Zayd grabs her around the waist and hauls her back. I hate that watching him touch her upsets me so much. His green eyes meet mine, and he grits his teeth as he yanks her back in line. ¡°As soon as I found out that BeFky had hit you, I haven¡¯t touFhed her. I just Fouldn¡¯t.¡± Zayd¡¯s words sound loudly inside my head, and I smile. It¡¯s not a nice smile either.


    ¡°Bloody hell, you Americans are crazy. We¡¯ve just met and you want to kill me?¡± Windsor asks, cocking his head to one side. He reaches up and adjusts his tie with his left hand, one single brow raised in question. Becky is panting now, and she shakes Zayd off to turn and re at me again.


    ¡°Not you, the little whore next to you. That¡¯s our resident Working Girl. If you want a cheap fuck, you can visit her in the Brothel. Otherwise, you¡¯re better off sticking with us.¡± Becky sneers at me, the expression twisting her pretty face into something horrible. I raise my chin and then flip her off. There¡¯s just something wrong with the chemistry between us; it doesn¡¯t work. ¡°You bitch.¡± She sneers and tries toe at me again, but Tristan holds out a hand and the Bluebloods freeze. Well, everyone but Creed. He leans back and rolls his eyes before yawning.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Tristan, though, is most definitely their king.


    His de gray gaze burns with fury as he looks at me standing there with the prince. His mouth is downturned, his expression as dark as his hair. He looks like he wants to kill someone. Maybe me, maybe Windsor, I¡¯m not sure.


    ¡°Wee to Burberry Prep,¡± Tristan says, his voice cold and threaded with steel. ¡°You have a choice to make:e with us or fall with her.¡± He


    gestures in my direction with his chin, and I hold my breath, eyes sliding over to Windsor York. He¡¯s been to schools like this before, elite boarding facilities all over Europe. Surely, he¡¯ll know how the hierarchy works. I don¡¯t stand a chance.


    I move to take my arm from his when he tightens his grip on me, throwing a blinding smile in the direction of the Idols and their Inner Circle. Creed¡¯s eyes meet mine, half-lidded andzy as usual. But there¡¯s a tightness to his chest and shoulders that I can¡¯t possibly miss.


    The tension stretches out between us and them, this thread that¡¯s pulled so taut I can hardly breathe.


    And then Windsorughs. The sound is light and airy and fluffy. It almost makes me smile. Almost. But then I catch Zayd¡¯s look, this muddied, confused sort of expression that tears at me. I could feel bad for getting his off-campus privileges revoked and ruining his music career, but then I think about the way he curled his arm around Becky¡¯s waist while I stood there dripping red paint and holding back tears.


    ¡°For you all to have such a vendetta against this girl, she must be pretty damn special.¡± Windsor shrugs his shoulders, the stark white of the jacket highlighting how colorful his eyes are, how red his hair. He¡¯s freaking gorgeous, I think, but then maybe it¡¯s just because he¡¯s defending me against them? I have no idea. ¡°Thanks, but no thanks. I¡¯ll take my chances with the most beautiful girl in the room.¡± He grins as Tristan frowns, and Harper steps forward, tossing her glossy brte waves over one shoulder. Since I cut that hunk off of Becky¡¯s hair, she¡¯s been extremely careful to stay away from me. I¡¯m going to have toe up with another n. ¡°Besides, when I set my sights out to destroy someone, I like challenging targets. You all will do quite nicely, I believe.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making a huge mistake,¡± Harper purrs, sauntering forward with her hips swaying. She¡¯s supposed to be with Tristan, but it looks like she¡¯s making the moves on Windsor York. Guess she¡¯s spotted an upgrade? I noticed that after Lizzie showed up at the lodge, she spent the rest of the trip avoiding her fiance like the gue. ¡°We own this school, Wind.¡± She smiles coquettishly and takes another step closer as Windsor raises his eyebrows. They¡¯ve only just met two seconds ago, and she¡¯s already calling him by his nickname. How cute. ¡°Choosing the Working Girl over the school¡¯s elite is a mistake that¡¯ll haunt you way past your days at this academy.¡± She reaches up to touch hispels, and his smile curves up in an inviting way. I see him


    lean toward her, like a flower straining for the light of the sun, and my heart sinks.


    On the plus side, I see Tristan¡¯s frown turn into an outright scowl.


    Harper is going to get it for this stuntter on, and I didn¡¯t have to lift a finger.


    Windsor puts his mouth right up close to Harper¡¯s and breathes on her lips. She sighs and practically falls into him.


    ¡°Darling,¡± he purrs, his voice like silk on the skin. I shiver as the sybles fall over me like a caress. ¡°I¡¯m the Duke of Westminster, the great-grandson of the Queen of Ennd, and in possession of a fortune worth over nine billion British pounds. Whatever you have to say, whoever you are, it means quite literally nothing to me.¡± He pushes Harper back with a single finger on her chest and she stumbles, mouth gaping open.


    Windsor smiles; it¡¯s not pretty anymore. Uh-oh.


    He lifts his eyes up and rakes them over the group of Bluebloods, like he¡¯s searching for something. Clearly he doesn¡¯t find it because a huge grin appears on his face, and then he¡¯s turning to me, eyes sparkling. I¡¯m going to have to be careful with this guy; he is not as nice as he seems.


    Hmm.


    Somehow, that makes it easier for me to smile back.


    ¡°Bunch of self-important arseholes,¡± Windsor says with a shrug of his shoulders. ¡°I can trace my bloodline back for centuries; I don¡¯t need to prove myself. And you,¡± he looks me over carefully while the collective whole of the group bristles, ¡°are clearly quite easy on the eyes, and quite right in the head to avoid these assholes. Shall we go then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to,¡± I say, a new idea blooming in my chest.


    The Bluebloods now hate Windsor; Windsor hates the Bluebloods. This could work.


    ¡°This is a mistake you¡¯re going to regret,¡± Tristan warns as we move past, but his voice is hot with anger and his dark gaze is quite clearly focused on Harper. Good. My n all along was to let their own weaknesses, mistakes, and sins burn them from the inside out. The way Tristan treated Harper in the limo was my first clue that their rtionship isn¡¯t as peachy as Harper wants it to be.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a bold career move that¡¯s going to bring me hours of entertainment.¡± Windsor produces his schedule with a flourish and passes it


    over to me, and we move on down the hall, leaving the Idols and their Inner Circle safely behind us.


    ¡°I love you so much! If I were attracted to boys, I¡¯d be all over you,¡± Miranda whispers, her voice harsh, eyes brimming with happy tears. Windsor smirks, and pushes some loose hair from his forehead with his palm. It sticks straight up in the front, like a little cowlick or something. ¡°Seriously, I¡¯ve been following you on the news since forever. And when I heard you wereing to America, I knew. I just knew yo


    u woulde to Burberry Prep.¡±

 125

    ¡°I¡¯ve received quite a mixed bag of wees today,¡± he says with a grin, reaching out to ruffle up my hair. I¡¯m so stunned by the action that I just stand there. Zack narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his broad chest, taking in the prince like he¡¯s not particrly impressed. ¡°Those blokes near the front door,¡± he continues, gesturing with his thumb in the direction of the courtyard. ¡°They your ex-boyfriends or something?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I choke, and both Jessie and Miranda crack up. ¡°What? No. No. Ew. No.¡± But also, maybe, kind of, sort of ¡­ Windsor cocks his head to one side and studies me before giving this loose, easy shrug of his shoulders that says he could give two fucks less, and was mostly just curious. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°They all look at you with a certain ¡­ shall we say, je ne sais quoi.¡± Heughs and shakes his head. ¡°Usually, I have an uncanny ability to guess when two people have slept together. I was getting mixed messages between you and those guys.¡± He pauses again and then raises his palms up while he rifies. ¡°Not all of them though, just the three ring leaders: the gray-eyed one, thezy one, and the musician.¡±


    ¡°I never slept with them,¡± I squeak as Zack and Andrew both look at me like they¡¯re trying to figure out if that¡¯s the truth or not. ¡°I¡¯m a virgin.¡± The words tumble out before I can stop them, and then I groan, mping a hand over my eyes just before Zack¡¯s brows go up in shock. ¡°Why did I just say that?¡±


    ¡°I have a habit of digging the honesty out of people,¡± Windsor exins, clearly so full of himself that I expect peacock feathers to pop out of his butt at any moment. He thinks very highly of himself, certainly. ¡°It¡¯s a gift.¡±


    Windsor looks around the student lounge-a ce I never hang out but which is essential to any student tour-and reaches up to straighten his tie. He¡¯s got epaulettes on his jacket shoulders which I¡¯ve never seen on anyone else¡¯s academy uniform, but okay.


    ¡°You¡¯ve met the Bluebloods then?¡± Zack asks, and Windsor turns his hazel gaze on my new football yer friend. He studies him with total disinterest, but not apleteck of warmth like Creed or Tristan might.


    ¡°Bluebloods?¡± Windsor asks, and then heughs. It¡¯s such a bright, airy sound that it startles me. ¡°How quaint. Yes, I¡¯ve met them. Instantly disliked them. Can¡¯t wait to knock their worlds upside down. Wankers.¡± He wrinkles his nose up. ¡°At least I know which girls not to shag. What¡¯s wrong with that psycho one, with the missing chunk of hair?¡±


    Iugh and mp a hand over my mouth as a group of fourth year girls waltz by and then stop to gape. Windsor checks them all out, winks coquettishly, and then turns back to me, curiosity brimming in his eyes.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°She cut all my hair offst year, and dyed it bright red,¡± I exin. ¡°Well, her and Harper-the brte one that tried to hit on you.¡± Windsor nods, crossing one arm over his chest and resting his chin in the palm of his other hand. He smells like daffodils and shoe polish, and I¡¯m sort of digging it.


    ¡°I see, I see. So why does the one still have all of her hair?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to get close enough to her to cut it off,¡± I blurt, and then I kick myself because I met this guy all of two seconds ago, and I¡¯m spilling all my secrets. Jesus. He¡¯s dangerous as hell; I need to be careful with the prince.


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± he replies, and then Miranda starts to gush again. I let her while we continue the tour, making our way from the lounge to The Mess. The rest of our little group bails when the first ss of the day starts, but Windsor and I have free passes to explore the academy¡¯s campus. It¡¯s extensive, and we end up finishing just about the time that The Mess starts serving their dinner menu.


    Windsor is charming, handsome, personable ¡­ but it¡¯s very clear to me that while some of the others, like Creed, pretend not to give a shit, Windsor York really, really doesn¡¯t.


    He smiles at me across the dinner table, and I smile back.


    But that¡¯s as far as our rtionship will ever go.


    Unfortunately, right after that smile, he needles me until I start spilling the truth about what happenedst year. Not that it matters: he was bound to find out anyway, so at least he¡¯s getting the story from me first.


    ¡°On the bright side,¡± he starts, ying with his fork in fine, delicate fingers, ¡°when I wreck themter, I won¡¯t have to feel an ounce of remorse.¡± Windsor smiles at me, winks, and then digs into his dessert.


    The next day, I turn the corner in the chapel building, finding Harper and her cronies on one side. Windsor York is on the other, flirting with some third- year girls. As soon as he sees me, he lifts two fingers in a wave, bids goodbye to his giggling fan club, and starts walking my direction. As he passes Harper du Pont, he pulls something from his pocket, walks right up to her, and chops her ponytail off at the base.


    Her friends shriek as she reaches up with her hands to touch the back of her head. Her pterodactyl screech echoes through the halls as Windsor saunters up to me and tosses the ponytail my way.


    ¡°Token of my friendship,¡± he says, winking at me as I gape and look between him and the cluster of Inner Circle girls fluttering over their now- weeping Idol. ¡°We have the same homeroom, don¡¯t we? Walk with me?¡± Windsor offers me his arm, and I decide then that he¡¯s good people. Really fucking good people.


    When Friday of that week rolls around, I spend every spare second I have


    -which isn¡¯t a lot-searching for news stories about him online. The reason he¡¯s here in America and at Burberry isn¡¯t pleasant: Miranda was right when she mentioned him crashing a boat into a harbor and severely injuring several partygoers.


    Also, no surprise: he¡¯s a major lothario. He¡¯s slept with dozens of famous people already, and he¡¯s only sixteen. Apparently, he¡¯s a major scandal to the crown. So while he technically has a fortune of his own, his mother is still legally in charge of his person until he turn


    s eighteen. Fascinating.

 126

    That weekend, gossip about a party in the woods has spread like wildfire. It¡¯s not a club party, but it is being sponsored by the Idols. Surprisingly, I open my door to a knock on Saturday morning and find Windsor York waiting for me. He¡¯s dressed in a loose blue shirt with a V-neck, jeans, and what look like brown riding boots.


    ¡°Good morning, ma Fhere,¡± he says, but I¡¯m not impressed. I¡¯ve heard him call, like, six other girls ma Fhere. Although I have to say, his French is impable. ¡°Did you get my textsst night?¡± I nod, and do my best not to smile. Windsor¡¯s been sending me all sorts of amazing articles with prank ideas that I could use on the Idols. They¡¯re a bit extreme for my tastes- remember: let them hang themselves with their own rope-but I appreciate the effort. The prince seems to have taken this whole revenge thing on with a gusto. ¡°And did you get my voice message this morning? It¡¯s rude to ask ady out via text, so I¡¯ve improvised and simply texted a recording of my voice.¡±


    ¡°How ¡­ debonair of you,¡± I choke, but I¡¯m smiling anyway. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t checked my texts. Where, exactly, are you inviting me?¡± His eyes sparkle as he stands up straight and raises an eyebrow at my cracked bedroom door. With a sigh, I step back and let him in. He takes in the room with a single sweep of his eyes before spinning back to me. His red hair is nice and clean, and sticking straight up in the front. I¡¯m not sure how though because I don¡¯t see any gel. Guess it¡¯s just a random quirk of his.


    ¡°Whenever I transfer schools-and I transfer schools a lot-I always make sure to hit the first party of the year running. I hear there¡¯s one in the woods? Not quite my usual scene, but I¡¯ll take it.¡± I smile as I head into the kitchte area to make some tea. Windsor watches me plop a Lipton tea bag into a cup of lukewarm water and toss it into the microwave.


    He looks like he might puke.


    ¡°Most of the Bluebloods are banned from going off campus for the remainder of the year,¡± I exin as I press the buttons on the microwave. Without skipping a beat, Windsor reaches over my shoulder and grabs my hand, gently pulling me back. He then goes about pulling out a kettle from one of the cabs, filling it with water, and putting it on the single burner stove. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Making you a proper cup of tea.¡± He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be a proper English bloke if I allowed that¡±-he points at the microwave and sneers-¡°to be consumed in my presence. Don¡¯t you stupid Americans know how to make tea the right way?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a right way?¡± I ask, and he groans, putting his face into his hands. He¡¯s like a caricature of a prince, all over-the-top, sweeping bows, speaking in French. It¡¯s almost too much. And yet, I kinda like it anyway. ¡°Well, excuse me. I grew up in an abandoned Train Car on instant ramen noodles and pb&j sandwiches. My mom abandoned me and my dad when I was a kid, and we did the best we could.¡± Windsor slowly parts his hands to peer out at me, and I realize I¡¯ve just done it again: showed him all my damn cards.


    Crap.


    ¡°Welllllll,¡± he drawls, dragging out the L in that word far past it¡¯s usual point, ¡°even if you¡¯vemitted an atrocity against crown and kingdom with your god-awful tea, you seem to have turned out alright. Most people suck on the dick of money like it¡¯lle cash in their mouths and make them rich. You seem ¡­ beyond despondent, more disgusted. I quite enjoy that.¡±


    ¡°The dick of money?¡± I ask as the kettle starts to steam and Windsor pulls it off the stove with a pot holder I never use. He looks through my cabs and finds the loose leaf English breakfast tea that Dad gave me for Christmas. It even came with a metal strainer and a special mug that I haven¡¯t used yet. I watch as Windsor prepares a cup for me. ¡°That¡¯s ¡­ a very creative metaphor.¡±


    ¡°Simile: I used the word like.¡± He grins and waves his hand dismissively. He¡¯s not quite as tall as Zack, but he¡¯s well-built, and he¡¯s got an air of confidence that¡¯s infectious. His hair is almost crimson, but I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s natural, and there¡¯s a curve to his upper lip that draws my attention. ¡°Marnye Reed, will you please do me the honor of escorting me to tonight¡¯s party?¡± He holds up his palms toward me. ¡°Not as a date: you were very clear about your ideas on dating. Besides, I¡¯ve already found three or four girls that I fancy. I was just hoping we could go as friends.¡± He hands me the mug and our fingers tangle together. My breath catches, but Windsor doesn¡¯t seem to notice, not the way Zayd or Creed or Zack would. Tristan just ¡­ screw Tristan.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, why not?¡± I reply, taking a sip of the tea. My brows go up and Windsor chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I tell myself it¡¯s just a European thing, but the ce his lips touched tingles like crazy.


    ¡°See you at five, love.¡± And then he disappears, letting my door swing shut behind him.


    Zack is not pleased to see Windsor in my room when he shows upter, a cluster of wild winter flowers in his hand. When he gives them to me, I flush a dark red color and stumble three times trying to say the word thanks.


    ¡°Are you two an item?¡± Windsor asks, now dressed in a loose, silky cream shirt that¡¯s unbuttoned nearly to his navel. He tucks his fingers in the front pockets of his ck cks and looks between me and Zack with narrowed eyes. ¡°You sure you¡¯re a virgin? I could swear the two of you have shagged.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, maybe your intuition isn¡¯t as amazing as you im,¡± I retort, but now that Windsor¡¯s brought up sex and Zack in the same conversation I can¡¯t stop thinking about our make-out session. Gah. I was not supposed to fall for my tormentor. There¡¯s nothing cool or feminist or progressive about that. If I think too hard about it, it makes me feel sick.


    And yet ¡­ Zack¡¯s been nothing but nice to me. People can make mistakes, as long as they acknowledge them and learn from their


    experiences, right? Right? I so want Zack Brooks to be redeemable.


    We head out the east door of the chapel, meet up with Miranda, Jessie, and Andrew then start off toward theke. About halfway there, we find the bonfire, the beer, and the fighting.


    Oh, that¡¯s right.


    I¡¯d almost forgotten about that email I sentst night. Or all the changes I made to my list.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye Reed


    The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)


    The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), BeFky tter (year one two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated), Ileana Taittinger (year one)


    The Inner CirFle: Andrew Payson, Anna KirkpatriFk, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, 3ai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner ¡­ and, I guess, me! Kiara Xiao, Ben Thresher


    Plebs: everyone else, soContent is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    rry. XOXO


    Zack Brooks Lizzie :alton

 127

    Sai Patel is doing it with Abigail Fanning, who¡¯s supposed to be dating Gregory Van Horn; I emailed proof to the entire Blueblood court. And because I hate Greg so much, I¡¯ve doubled up and sent Andrew¡¯s bullying video to Creed. I¡¯ve already crossed his and John¡¯s names off because, well, they¡¯re not going tost the night.


    They¡¯ve almost made it too easy for me.


    ¡°And here I was expecting tonight to be boring,¡± Windsor deres, his grin so bright that he stands out like a white splotch in the darkness. The bonfire is roaring, and there are people drinking and dancing, but the majority of the attention falls on Greg, Sai, and Abigail. There¡¯s a lot of crying, begging, pleading, and so on and so forth. It¡¯s actually pretty boring, after what happened with Jalen, Ebony, and Tristan. Been there, seen this. Besides, once a cheater, always a cheater. Frankly, I¡¯m shocked that Greg took Abigail back after Tristan outed her for sleeping with himst year.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Creed asks as he moves up beside us, holding out his phone. His half-lidded gaze falls on Windsor as the prince¡¯s grin slides away and something much more predatory takes its ce. ¡°Payson?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t answer to you anymore,¡± Andrew says wearily, exhaling heavily. But he knows I sent the video. I made sure to ask because, you know, No Friendly Fire. ¡°But what¡¯s it look like, man?¡±


    ¡°Are they bothering you, too?¡± Creed asks, turning to his sister. I hate to admit it, but he looks hot as hell in a ck button-down and jeans. His outfit¡¯s wrinkled just enough to give off that devil-may-care attitude of his.


    Miranda turns up her nose at her brother, hooks her arm with Jessie¡¯s, and drags her through the crowd toward the keg. When Creed turns to me, Zack steps forward and pushes me slightly behind him. The move is protective, and sort of adorable, but also ¡­ I can take care of myself. I step up beside him as Windsor whistles under his breath.


    ¡°Back off, Brooks,¡± Creed says, his voice so sharp it gives me whish. He is not in the mood to take shit tonight. He looks back at me, his ice-blue eyes catching the orange light from the fire. When he flips some of that white-blonde hair off his forehead, my heart does somersaults and I tell it quite firmly to sit still and forget about Creed Cabot. ¡°Are they picking on my sister?¡± he demands, but I simply cross my arms over my chest.


    ¡°Does it matter? You told them to knock their homophobic bullshit off, and they keep doing it. Doesn¡¯t that undermine your authority as an Idol?¡± I shrug my shoulders loosely, but then I remind myself: the most important part of your n starts here. Taking a step forward, I put my hand on Creed¡¯s shoulder and his entire body goes stiff.


    Our eyes meet, and I have to swallow three times before I remember how to speak. For a split-second there, I wish I could close my eyes and transport back in time to the winter formal.


    ¡°Is that a yes or a no?¡± he says, his voice this debonair se that actually makes my heart flutter. Even though his eyes are barely open, and his body looks boneless and exhausted with boredom, he also looks like he¡¯s about to kill someone. It¡¯s there in the way his long fingers tighten around his phone. Since the people he¡¯s about to kill are John and Greg, I¡¯m all for it.


    ¡°It¡¯s an I Fan¡¯t betray your sister¡¯s trust ever again, Creed,¡± I say, but that¡¯s pretty much a copout answer because when Andrew first showed us the video, Miranda¡¯s face got tight and she looked at Jessie like she¡¯d give anything to protect her. It¡¯s not Miranda that¡¯s being picked on: it¡¯s her girlfriend.


    He nods his chin briskly, like he respects my answer at least a little bit.


    When he turns and heads over to the fight, Sai is bleeding, Abigail has disappeared into the woods with Ebony-guess cheaters of a feather flock together-and I take up position on a fallen log to watch the show.


    ¡°This is massively entertaining,¡± Windsor whispers as he passes by me, his daffodil and polish scent drifting in the air as he pauses next to the drink table and starts mixing cocktails like a damn bartender. When he offers one to me, I refuse.


    ¡°My father¡¯s a recovering alcoholic,¡± I exin, and Windsor shrugs. ¡°Same with mine, only he¡¯s dead now so I guess he can¡¯t be recovering.


    Have one drink, it won¡¯t kill you.¡± Zack growls at him, almost quite literally, and the two men get into an odd little standoff. They¡¯ve only just met, and I don¡¯t like their tension. ¡°Suit yourself then,¡± Wind replies, tossing one drink back, and then the next.


    ¡°He likes you,¡± Zack says as Windsor moves away to make another drink. I¡¯m desperately trying to watch the situation with Creed, Greg, and John, but the strong thread of jealousy in Zack¡¯s voice draws my attention. I give him a questioning look as he stares back at me with that dark, unreadable expression of his.


    ¡°He just met me,¡± I reply, but Zack¡¯s already shaking his head.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m a guy, Marnye. The way he¡¯s looking at you ¡­ he¡¯s interested.¡± I shrug my shoulders, but there¡¯s a warm little fire in my stomach that I try desperately to put out. I don¡¯t want Windsor to be interested in me. I have enough guy troubles as it is.


    ¡°He¡¯s interested in pretty much every girl at the school,¡± I reply, and that¡¯s the truth. Even if Zack is right, and Windsor is interested, it¡¯s in a shallow, casual way. He¡¯s a yer, not partner material. If I wanted a quick, um, shag


    then he¡¯d be the guy I¡¯d seek out. If I wanted a boyfriend ¡­ my attention slides away from Creed and over to Zack.


    ¡°He¡¯ll probably murder them right here,¡± Zayd says, making me jump as he appears out of the shadows. ¡°You¡¯ve just signed their death warrants.¡± He¡¯s smoking a clove cigarette that smells too good for words, but that I wish desperately I could tear from his inked fingers. Those things are ten times worse than normal cigarettes. Ugh,e on Zayd Kaiser ¡­


    ¡°They deserve it,¡± I reply, and he howls withughter, tipping back a red Solo cup filled with beer.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, maybe. Still, Creed is gonna fucking kill them.¡± He sits down on the log beside me as Zack res, and Windsor flirts with some random chick at the drink table. I ignore it all and turn back to the fight.


    ¡°I am fucking done with the two of you,¡± Creed says as Greg and John exchange looks. They don¡¯t look particrly scared of him. They should be though. They really should be. ¡°I told you toy off of Andrew and Miranda.¡±


    ¡°We never touched Miranda,¡± John says, swaggering forward. Uh-oh.


    His brown eyes glimmer with defiance as he tucks his fingers in his front pockets and lifts his chin.


    ¡°Although maybe if we had, she wouldn¡¯t be a fucking dyke anymore.¡± There¡¯s this moment where everything is still, save the crackle of the fire and the wind in the trees. When Creed moves, that insouciant imperviousness of his falls away, and he bes a machine. He nails John in the throat with a punch that sends the other man falling back into his friend¡¯s arms.


    That¡¯s when the cracks start to show, and all of my nninges together in a glorious moment.


    ¡°What the fuck, man?¡± Greg snarls, blood from his fight with Sai flecking his lips. ¡°You think we didn¡¯t all read about that shitty bet you pulled on our own sister in that whore¡¯s journal? You¡¯re a hypocritical asshole. Lay off.¡±


    Creed grabs John by the shirt, yanks him forward, and throws him to the dirt before he goes for Greg. I don¡¯t even have to film it this time because everybody else already is. Besides, I don¡¯t need anymore damning footage of Creed. As it is, this is not on his list of things I want him to pay for. I don¡¯t condone violence, but it¡¯s almost admirable.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± As soon as I hear that pterodactyl screech, I know who it is. Harper du Pont a


    ppears out of the trees dressed in

 128

    Louboutins and some fancy designer dress that rides up so far on her thighs that I can see thecy white panties underneath. She storms across the clearing and gets up in Creed¡¯s face, just after he knocks Greg to his knees with a punch to the stomach. ¡°Leave them alone,¡± she hisses, and there¡¯s a collective intake of breath from the crowd.


    Idol versus Idol.


    I¡¯d sort of hoped this might happen.


    Harper has always had per people; Tristan has always had his. What was it he said in the limo that day?


    ¡°If you keep talking, I¡¯ll toss you right out of this limo, and we¡¯ll find out if the Plebs enjoy their queen better ¡­ or their king. Don¡¯t test me, Harper.¡±


    There were cracks in the skin of this court, and they were bleeding blue blood long before I ever set my sights on them.


    Tristan appears a momentter, swiping his hand down his face. For a second, I imagine that he and Harper were having sex in the woods, and I feel nauseous. But then I realize they were probably fighting. She¡¯s too worked up; he¡¯s too pissed off.


    ¡°Creed gave these assholes an order, and they fucked it up,¡± Tristan snaps, circling the small group like a caged lion shaking out his mane. ¡°Leave him alone to mete out his own justice.¡±


    ¡°Since when do you care so much about Cabot?¡± Harper growls back at him, her brte hair short and fluffy with frizz. It¡¯s a pretty amazing sight to behold; I won¡¯t lie. She hasn¡¯t noticed that me or Windsor is here yet; I imagine when she does, she¡¯ll have another fit. ¡°What? Are you two gay for each other now, too?¡±


    Tristan¡¯s storm gray gaze snaps to life with refined cruelty, a hint of malice bncing on the de-thin edge of his stare. He looks beautiful in his blue shirt, gray wool coat, and ck cks, like a model on his way to a shoot. His raven-dark hair shines in the bonfire¡¯s light, picking up all the subtle blue highlights.


    He circles around and ends up standing near me. Unlike Harper, he doesn¡¯t miss me or the prince standing there in the shadows. His jaw tightens, and he turns away, back toward his fiancee.


    ¡°If you undermine Creed¡¯s authority, you undermine mine. You know the rules: you control the girls, and I control the guys. Don¡¯t fuck this all up because you¡¯re pissed about your hair.¡± Tristan¡¯s words are cold, cruel, and precise, like a de to the gut.


    Harper¡¯s eyes widen, and she looks past him to me and Windsor for the first time before snapping her gaze back to Tristan.


    ¡°At least John and Greg are always on my side,¡± she says as the two boys help each other up, bleeding and groaning. Creed looks unfazed, almost bored.


    ¡°Are they?¡± Tristan asks, moving up to stand in front of Harper. ¡°Are they always on your side? Becausest time we hung out, all they did was talk shit about your mom, andment the fact that we were together so they couldn¡¯t sleep with you anymore.¡±


    Someone gasps theatrically, and I nce over to see Becky with a solo cup in one hand, the other lifted to her throat as if in shock. Ever the drama queen. Like Creed to Tristan, it must kill her that she¡¯s not the queen of the school. Since I haven¡¯t quite started on my revenge with the girls, I make a mental note to exploit that weakness.


    ¡°Really?¡± Harper snaps, tugging her dress down in the front and closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, they are zing with fury. ¡°Because all I hear about from the girls is how you stopped fucking them long before second year started. You stopped fucking them soon after you made that stupid bet with Creed and Zayd. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say you had a thing for the Working Girl. Should I call your dad and tell him about it?¡± She turns away with a huff, and half the Bluebloods go with her, including Greg and John.


    Once they¡¯ve gone, there¡¯s a moment of quiet. Nobody moves; nobody speaks. I can¡¯t see Tristan¡¯s face, but his shoulders are drawn so tight it looks like he¡¯s in pain.


    Finally, Creed makes the first move by heading over to the drink table and pouring himself straight vodka. He tips it back, scoffs, and swipes his arm over his mouth. The music starts up again, and Windsor moves over to stand beside me. He doesn¡¯t seem to care that Zayd is sitting right next to me.


    ¡°I have to say, I¡¯ve only just arrived at Burberry prep, but it¡¯s quite obvious


    ¡­¡± Windsor reaches up and brushes some hair from my forehead, making me shiver as our eyes meet in the firelight. ¡°That the ones who think they¡¯re in charge are actually following someone else¡¯s unspoken orders.¡± He winks at me, before holding out a hand and inviting me to dance.


    I exchange a look with Zack, and find his face an imprable wall of stone. My hand seems to reach out of its own ord. Windsor¡¯s fingers curl around mine, and he pulls me to my feet. Zayd mumbles something under


    his breath that I can¡¯t quite hear, and as Windsor yanks me into the crowd, I catch his green gaze watching us with envy.


    Nobody will danFe with you like I did, his expression says. Nobody Fan mold your body to theirs the way I Fan.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I turn away, and focus on Windsor¡¯s hazel eyes as he sweeps me off my feet into a princely waltz. No, he doesn¡¯t dance like Zayd, but he has some impressive skills nheless. After a few songs, Miranda takes over, then Zack.


    He may not be as graceful as Windsor, as agile as Miranda, or as sensual as Zayd, but he¡¯s big, warm, and he holds me so tight I feel like I could never fall with him holding me.


    We don¡¯t stop dancing until dawn peaks its bright, little fingers ov


    er the edge of the horizon.

 129

    ¡°There¡¯s more to the story than you¡¯re letting on,¡± Windsor says, sitting on the edge of one of the school¡¯s many nter boxes.


    Part of my biology grade this year includes helping out in the academy gardens. I¡¯m supposed to be showing Windsor what to do, but instead he somehow winds up sitting and chatting will I do work. I sit back, wipe my hands on the knees of my overalls, and re up at him. We¡¯re in the greenhouse, so it¡¯s hot enough to make me sweat. I swipe an arm across my forehead.


    ¡°Of course there¡¯s more to the story,¡± I say, pulling out a carrot and swinging the orange length of it at him for emphasis. ¡°We just met. I¡¯m not about to spill all my secrets to you, despite what you might think.¡±


    Windsor smirks at me until I drop the carrot in hisp, smearing his pristine overalls with dirt. He wrinkles his nose, but tosses the vegetable into the basket before pulling out a few more. I¡¯m guessing this is the most extensive gardening work the prince has ever done.


    ¡°I¡¯ve pieced together quite a lot about your escapades from academy gossip, and I¡¯ve seen your efforts reflected back in the party.¡± Windsor tosses his fourth carrot into the basket before standing up and swiping his palms down the front of his overalls. ¡°I want to help.¡± I nce skeptically up at him, and he smiles bemusedly down at me. ¡°After all, they threatened me the moment I walked in the door. I can¡¯t exactly let that go, now can I?¡±


    I snort, pulling thest of the carrots out of the dirt, and putting them into the basket before standing up and turning to face Windsor.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend this is all for my benefit,¡± I tell him, picking up the basket and moving over to therge, industrial sink in the corner. Carefully, I tip the basket of carrots out into the stainless steel basin and turn on the removable faucet, so I can rinse them off. After this, we¡¯ll deliver them to the kitchen, and we¡¯ll have the rest of the afternoon off. ¡°I researched you: Miranda is practically an expert on your life.¡± Dirt swirls down the drain as I nce over to the prince¡¯s handsome face. He really does look like royalty, almost too perfect to be real, as if he should exist in a painting or a sculpture and not necessarily in real life. ¡°You have a reputation for being ¡­ How should I put this, a bully who enjoys bullying bullies.¡± I exhale. It¡¯s a mouthful, but it¡¯s true.


    Windsor doesn¡¯t pretend to deny that, but he does reach into to the sink, snatch a carrot, and bite off the tip. When he extends his hand and rubs his muddy thumb against my lower lip, my knees get seriously weak, and I have to clutch the edge of the sink to keep from wobbling.


    The guy is an incorrigible flirt, and even though I know that, it doesn¡¯t stop me from liking it.


    ¡°I like to take down big prey,¡± he says with a grin, ¡°it¡¯s true. I like a challenge, Marnye. Let me help you the way your friends can¡¯t.¡± Windsor steps towards me, and cups my face between his dirty palms. ¡°They were all herest year. Whether they wereplicit or not, they¡¯re all tied together. But not me. I¡¯m new, no strings attached, no ulterior motives. I just find it amusing to bring down those who think they¡¯re too high to fall.¡± He releases me suddenly and steps back, leaning against the wall beneath the window. Cold, winter sunshine streams in and makes his hair look like blood. The way his hazel eyes take me in, it feels like he¡¯s stripping me bare. ¡°There¡¯s no harm in that, is there? Besides, what¡¯s it hurt to have an extra pair of eyes to watch your back?¡±


    I sigh, but I don¡¯t answer him. We met a week ago. What can I say, I don¡¯t trust the guy.


    By the end of this week however ¡­ something happens that makes me start to.


    There¡¯s nothing I hate so much as swimming; not because of the activity itself, but because it leaves me alone and vulnerable with every girl at that school who hates me.


    Now that I¡¯m on the cheerleading team, I don¡¯t have to do it much, but Burberry prep is an old-fashioned school that still requires students to learn how to swim before they¡¯re allowed to graduate. Miranda¡¯s beenining about it all week, loudly proiming that the public schools don¡¯t do this anymore, and that it¡¯s unfair and impractical.


    ¡°What does swimming have to do with surviving in today¡¯s society?¡± she asks anyone that will listen, but it doesn¡¯t matter. On Friday, students dress down in batches and take turns swimmingps in the pool for Coach Hannah.


    I¡¯m in thest group of the day to go, clustered up with people like Harper, Becky, and Ilean. Talk about a raw deal.


    We dress down, and I¡¯m subject to an inordinate amount of strap-snapping from the other girls. By the time we actually get out the locker room and over to the pool, my back is pink and sore from having my bathing suit yanked and snapped against me. It¡¯s infuriating, but I¡¯ve already broken my no violence rule once, and I won¡¯t stoop that low again. Let them pick on me: I have much better things nned.


    We all climb in the pool for warm-ups, stretching, and following Coach Hannah as she runs through the routine on drynd. About halfway through, she gets a phone call from her daughter who¡¯s just days away from having a baby. She briefly excuses herself, and I sigh as I bob in the water, wishing this day would just end. I know I can swim, not only because ofst year¡¯s PE sses, but also because I spent the summer practicing.


    What I don¡¯t realize until it¡¯s toote, is that the girls are slowly forming a circle around me. Harper smirks at me as I finally take notice of the fact that I¡¯m surrounded by Bluebloods and Plebs alike.


    Warily, I sigh, and run my palm over my wet hair. ¡°What do you want, Harper?¡±


    ¡°What do I want?¡± she asks, eyes widening in shock, like I¡¯ve just personally offended her or something. ¡°I want my fucking hair back.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we all do,¡± I retort snootily, tired and overworked and ready for bed. ¡°So what?¡±


    Harper sneers at me, an expression I am well-used to. I don¡¯t mind when she does it, because what she doesn¡¯t know is that she¡¯s no longer pretty when she¡¯s scowling like that.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you did to get the prince on your side so fast, probably spread your legs or whatever, but I don¡¯t like it. You¡¯ve turned him against us when he should be on our side; frankly, we should kick Zayd or Creed out and Windsor should be an Idol.¡± Harper swims closer to me, and I back up, but there¡¯s nowhere to go. ¡°I¡¯m going to teach you a little lesson about stirring shit up during my parties. Ladies.¡± She gestures with her chin, and the girls all swim closer, grabbing onto my shoulders, arms, even


    snatching clumps of my hair.

 130

    Before I can even register what¡¯s happening, they¡¯re pushing me under.


    I¡¯m so shocked, but identally take a breath, chlorinated water rushing into my lungs, stealing my breath away. I begin to choke, but that only makes things worse as I¡¯m now inhaling huge mouthfuls of water. My arms and legs thrash, and my nails rake across the skin of the girls nearest me, but it doesn¡¯t do any good. There are so many of them that they keep me under with little effort.


    Time seems to slow to a crawl, so that I¡¯m seeing each second as a whole minute. I see their legs, dancing beneath the water, the curves of their dark blue academy-issued swimsuits across their thighs. My eyes seem to catch on the ck number four on the pool wall, indicating the depth of the water.


    Is this really happening? I think, the strength and speed of my struggle slowing dramatically. Am I really going to drown in four fuFking feet of water?


    My vision starts to darken at the edges, while the center flickers with little white stars. Once that starts happening, all I can think about is my dad and how much I¡¯m going to miss him. My next thoughts ¡­ don¡¯t make a lot of sense.


    I think about Zack, about Tristan, Creed and Zayd. Will any of them miss me? Will any of them care that I¡¯m gone? I know Miranda will, and Andrew, too, probably.


    But soon, those thoughts fade away, too, and I start to feel sleepy.


    The next thing I know, there¡¯s a huge ssh that rocks me and jostles the grips of the girls holding onto me. Strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me up and out of the water before hoisting me onto the edge andying me t on the cement.


    Someone is leaning over me, but I can¡¯t see who it is. My vision is too unsure, and I feel like my consciousness ising in and out. My mystery savior covers my mouth with his own and breathes life into me.


    That¡¯s thest thing I remember before waking up in the nurse¡¯s office.


    The official story is that I got out of the pool to use the restroom, tripped, fell, and hit my head before tumbling into the pool.


    It¡¯s tempting to rat the girls out, but there are fifteen conflicting stories topete against mine, so I say nothing. Charlie is called, but the nurse insists there¡¯s no reason for him to drive all the way out here, and he¡¯s got work anyway ¡­ but I sure wish I could see him.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    That was scary as hell. I almost died. Never did I believe the girls would actually push me that hard.


    It turns out that Windsor York is the one who saved me.


    Zack looks sick with guilt, and stays by my side the entire day until the nurse discharges me. Miranda, Jessie, and Andrew alsoe to visit, but it isn¡¯t until I get back to my dorm that I find Windsor waiting for me. Zack stiffens up slightly, but the two men are at least polite to each other as we approach and Windsor pushes up from the wall.


    ¡°Ah, mdy,¡± he says, taking my hand and putting my knuckles to his lips. ¡°She lives.¡±


    ¡°Thanks to you,¡± I say, feeling this cold, scared sickness roll over me. Revenge was sweet ¡­ until it wasn¡¯t. Now I¡¯m terrified. I had no idea this was turning into a life or death situation. Creed¡¯s words echo in my head: ¡°The girls want to kill you. WatFh out for them.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Windsor drops my hand and studies me with a very serious expression. Behind me, my friends fan out like a cadre of bodyguards. I wonder if maybe I should call Kathleen Cabot and ask for that Kyle guy


    back? I haven¡¯t seen him around campus in weeks, so I¡¯m guessing he¡¯s left. I know she wouldn¡¯t hesitate to send him or someone else to watch over me though. ¡°To be quite honest with you, I was only heading out to the pool to perv on you in your swimsuit.

 131

    My actions were not entirely honorable.¡± He steps back from me and sighs, and if he were anyone but a brand-new transfer to the school, I¡¯d think he was in on it, like he¡¯d set the drowning up just to save me.


    ¡°Well, thank you anyway,¡± I say, and we stand there staring at each other for several moments more until Zack clears his throat. All I can think as I fumble my key out of the pocket of my robe is that Windsor¡¯s mouth was on mine, and I was too out of it to remember. Somehow, focusing on the not- quite-a-kiss thing keeps me from realizing how deep this shit goes.


    The Infinity Club is out for my blood. Literally.


    I head inside ¡­ and everyone follows.


    Instead of fighting it, I embrace the fact that I¡¯m not alone, letting Zack tuck me into bed before Miranda crawls up on top of the covers and cuddles me. Jessie res which is hrious because, unfortunately, I¡¯m as straight as an arrow. If sexuality were a choice, I would one hundred percent choose to be a lesbian. Not only would life be easier, but I¡¯m pretty damn sure Miranda is much safer dating choice than anybody else at Burberry Prep.


    Windsor leaves to grab his-get ready for this-personal tea pot, cups, saucers, and a random assortment of his prized loose leaf teas, so he can make us a proper afternoon tea,plete with finger sandwiches he swiped from the kitchen.


    The guy¡¯s been at Burberry for all of two weeks, and he¡¯s managed to charm his way into the librarians¡¯ hearts, the kitchen staff, and the campus maintenance shed. Just yesterday, I walked outside and saw him leading a girl into the building where they keep all thewn mowers and things.


    Perv is right.


    After we eat, Miranda puts on Not Another Teen Movie which makes everyone in the room groan.


    ¡°This is my mom¡¯s favorite movie,¡± Zack says, but we all end up rxing and watching it anyway. It¡¯s still funny, even if it¡¯s old.


    ¡°Next year, I¡¯m going as Janey Briggs for Halloween,¡± Miranda deres, sweeping her blonde hair up into a ponytail to imitate the main character¡¯s infamous ¡®sses, ponytail, and paint-covered overalls¡¯ look. I give her aUpstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    look because we all know she absolutely will not go like that. She won¡¯t wear anything on Halloween that isn¡¯t cute and at least a tad revealing. She says she doesn¡¯t subscribe to the short and slutty rule, but she does, and she likes. Nothing wrong with that though.


    ¡°You Americans and your Halloween,¡± Windsor drawls, sitting in the chair in the corner. He¡¯s the only person not on the bed which is fine by me. I¡¯m having enough trouble remembering how to breathe with Zack sitting so close to me, his huge


    body practically engulfing mine.


    The three of them are standing there, dressed in their matching but oh-so- differently-worn uniforms. Tristan¡¯s is spic and span, creased to the heavens; Zayd¡¯s is wrinkled, mussy, and unbuttoned from neck to navel; Creed¡¯s is clean and fresh, but gently tousled like he¡¯s just woken from a nap.


    My throat goes dry as Tristan crosses his arms over his chest.


    ¡°What happened today? We can¡¯t get a straight answer from the girls. I want it from the horse¡¯s mouth.¡±


    ¡°This horse was almost killed by your fiancee and her besties today,¡± I snap, starting to shake. Something about seeing all three of them together like that ¡­ I feel both rage and mncholy. Rage because I feel like no amount of revenge will ever be enough. I want more. I want to tear them down and break them until theye to me on their hands and knees, begging for release. And yet ¡­ I miss them, too. Terribly.


    Life is confusing, and it sucks.


    Tristan strides forward, but Windsor puts out his boot, blocking him. That¡¯s another thing I¡¯ve noticed: Windsor York is the only guy at this school who wears boots instead of loafers with his uniform.


    ¡°You can¡¯te in without thedy¡¯s permission,¡± Windsor says, his voice coloring with a threat. ¡°This is her space, not yours.¡±


    The King of the School bristles, and sneers, but there¡¯s something else going on with him that I can¡¯t ce. He¡¯s practically shaking.


    ¡°We want to talk to Marnye-alone.¡± Tristan stares Windsor down, but instead of buckling like most people do, the prince just smiles.


    ¡°That¡¯s up to her. Ask nicely and maybe she¡¯ll say yes.¡±


    ¡°Like, bro, who the fuck are you?¡± Zayd snaps, pushing Tristan out of the way and pausing in the door. He nces over at me, and to be honest, he looks like shit. He actually looks like he might puke all over the expensive rugs Kathleen Cabot bought for my dorm room floor. I¡¯m walking on more money in here than my dad has in my college fund. ¡°You just moved in here, and you think you know shit about what goes on?¡±


    ¡°I know the Infinity Club owns this school,¡± Windsor begins, ticking things off on his hand. ¡°I know they¡¯re desperate to have me as a member, but I¡¯ve refused over a dozen times. I know that you¡¯re all part of the Club, and that you used poor Marnye here as a pawn in one of your asinine bets.¡± He shrugs his shoulders as pretty much every pe


    rson in the room gapes at him.

 132

    ¡°Do you realize that even as little as I¡¯m around you, you start off at least half your sentences with ¡®you Americans¡¯,¡± I quip, making small quotes with my fingers. I drop my hands back into myp before I realize that they¡¯re still shaking. Pretty sure I¡¯m exhausted, but I¡¯m also scared to go to sleep. Once I do, I¡¯ll have to remember that ckness closing in on me, the water choking me, the burning pain in my lungs ¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re just so adorably fun to make fun of,¡± he says, shrugging his shoulders as he slips back into his jacket. I¡¯m guessing he got special permission to add those damn epaulettes. They look freaking ridiculous, but I suppose if a rockstar can get special permission to have tattoos and piercings, a prince could get permission to get gold eighties-esque shoulder pad things.


    ¡°I happen to think British people are ridiculous,¡± Miranda quips right back, and Windsor grins, lifting his tea cup up and then taking a long, slow sip. ¡°Are you seriously over there, sippin¡¯ tea?¡± she asks, throwing a pillow at him. Just to rify: Miranda learned the phrase sipping tea from watching RuPaul¡¯s Drag Race. It means, like, to tell the truth in a sort of shady way or to listen to other people gossip.


    Andrew is grinning, enjoying the exchange, but I see the way his eyes take in Windsor. He totally has a crush on the prince. Hell, so does Miranda, and she¡¯s gay. Pretty sure the whole of Burberry Prep Academy is in love with the prince.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you have bodyguards?¡± I ask him as he stands up and starts to clean up the empty tea cups. ¡°I feel like there are probably a lot of people that would want to kill you: foreign governments, criminals looking for someone to ransom, dads of girls you¡¯ve slept with.¡±


    Windsor shrugs and washes the dishes, stacking them neatly in the box he used to carry them over. It¡¯s kind of cool to see a billionaire prince doing domestic work. I shift and identally end up pressing against Zack. More


    specifically, pressing between his legs. My back is to his front, and when I wiggle again, I hear him exhale sharply.


    ¡°Don¡¯t like to be followed around all the time. Bloody annoying. I figure if I get shot, I probably deserve it.¡± He uses his wet palm to push red hair from his forehead, and it stays right where it is: sticking straight up.


    Zack¡¯s arms slide around me, and I shiver, putting my hands over his as he sps them over my stomach. I¡¯m totally aware that Jessie, Miranda, and Andrew are all staring at us, but I can barely hear anything over the pounding of my heart.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I should¡¯ve been there to help,¡± he whispers, sounding pained. I close my eyes, but I have no idea what to say. This whole day¡¯s just been ¡­ fucked. I don¡¯t curse much, but there¡¯s not many other words in the Englishnguage that could epass what I just went through. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye.¡±


    There¡¯s a brief moment of silence before Windsor starts rinsing out the teapot.


    My friends start making their way off my bed, stretching and yawning. Soon, I¡¯ll be in here all alone, staring at the wall and reimagining that scenario over and over again. Oh god. No, thank you. I wet my lips, desperate to ask someone to stay with me.


    The obvious choice is Zack, but ¡­ I lean back into him, and I like the way he feels so much that it¡¯s scary. If he stayed in here tonight, then I-


    A knock sounds at the door, and we all jump.


    Miranda and I exchange a look, but Windsor¡¯s already swept over to answer it, flinging the door wide and giving us yet another taste of his entric personality. I think that¡¯s a real world metaphor right there: he isn¡¯t afraid, isn¡¯t tentative, and so unashamed that he¡¯s willing to open the door on everything without a second thought.


    My mouth drops open when I see who¡¯s waiting outside. The Idol boys are on my doorstep.


    Tristan Vanderbilt. Zayd Kaiser. Creed Cabot.

 133

    There¡¯s a definite shift in dynamics after the drowning. Creed has stopped flirting with Ileana, and I rarely see Tristan and Harper in the same room. She is, however, still wearing her ring, and I can¡¯t stop myself from thinking about William Vanderbilt and the crack of his palm against his son¡¯s face. No matter what, Tristan won¡¯t dump Harper. Not unless ¡­ I get Lizzie involved.


    I put that n aside for now. I can¡¯t pair Tristan up with Lizzie until after I win my end of the year bet with Harper. There¡¯s no way I canpete with Lizzie Walton for Tristan¡¯s affections, so I¡¯m not even going to try. Instead, I focus on casually working myself into situations where I know the boys will be present. They¡¯re as standoffish and weird as they¡¯ve been all year ¡­ at first.


    But the more I try, the easier things get.


    We¡¯re nowhere near the level of ease andpanionship that we had before, but I¡¯m making progress. Of course, from my end, we¡¯ll never have that sort of connection again. Zack, on the other hand, is truly remorseful. Or at least, he¡¯s convinced me that he is. I¡¯m pretty sure the Idol boys are still not sorry about what they did to me.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t get why they told me,¡± I tell Miranda as she flips through a yaoi manga-a boy on boy Japaneseic book. The drawings are, um, very explicit, and the funny thing is, she¡¯s even more into it than Andrew is. When she showed it to him, he wrinkled his nose, shrugged and said, ¡°I


    think those are more ¡­ aimed at women?¡± And then disappeared into the depths of the library.


    ¡°Because they¡¯re maniptive sociopaths,¡± she says, closing the cover of the book and ncing up at me. She¡¯s lounging on bean bags in the ¡®Quiet Nook¡¯ which is actually where everyone used to go to make out before the librarians moved the shelf with the new release hardcovers and exposed the corner to the side door. It¡¯s not quite so private anymore. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I know Creed is my twin, but I don¡¯t trust him for shit. I told him as muchst night.¡± She pushes up from her position on her stomach and nestles into a glittery white bean bag. ¡°He swore up and down and all over hell that they¡¯re telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The thing is, Marnye,¡± she continues, tucking some of that shimmering blonde hair behind her ear, ¡°they¡¯re all a part of that damn Club. It¡¯s so strict that people get hurt when they don¡¯t follow the rules. So maybe Creed¡¯s lying to you or me or both of us to protect himself. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time things had gone down like that.¡±


    She crosses her legs at the knee, leaning back so far that I can see her garters. Last year, I just assumed she was wearing them to impress a crush. Now, I¡¯m pretty sure she just wears them because they¡¯re hot. They¡¯re even in the school dress code: AFademy-issued thigh-high soFks Fan be worn with garters. Of course, it also says: Garters may not be visible at any time, not even when the arms are raised, but that doesn¡¯t stop us all from rolling the waistbands of our skirts.


    ¡°I have my reasons for trying to get close to them again,¡± I murmur, but clearly I¡¯m being cryptic as hell, and Miranda sighs.


    ¡°So I figured. Just ¡­ be careful, okay? Your revenge thing is fine, but don¡¯t let it take away your natural sweetness.¡± She leans over to brush loose hair from my forehead, and smiles.


    ¡°I am not naturally sweet,¡± I reply with a roll of my eyes, and sheughs. ¡°Are you kidding? You¡¯re so sweet you¡¯re practically syrup.¡± Miranda


    pauses suddenly and nces away, biting her lower lip. I raise my brows because I can tell something important is about toe up. ¡°Hey Marnye


    ¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I start, grabbing her abandoned yaoi manga and opening it to a random page. There¡¯s a full page drawing of two guys on a bed, and I think


    ¡­ Oh. Based on the next panel, I don¡¯t have to think about what they¡¯re doing: I know. My cheeks turn pink as I keep flipping through.


    ¡°Jessie and I broke up.¡± She blurts this out in a rush and then peers up at me from under blonde brows. I¡¯ve stacked two bean bags on top of each other to make a chair, raising myself up several inches above her. Better to be here than back in my room, all alone. For thest week and a half, I¡¯ve begged Miranda to stay with me because I can¡¯t bear the silence. As soon as Iy down and the light on my bedside table clicks off, I start remembering the water filling my lungs.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°Wait, this isn¡¯t because of me, is it?¡± I ask, and Miranda flushes even brighter than I am after looking at the yaoi drawings. Damn. Now I feel likeplete crap. I knew I shouldn¡¯t have asked her so many times to sleep over.


    ¡°You needed me: you suffered a trauma,¡± she starts, and then she nces away sharply and exhales, her gaze fixated so purposefully on a copy of a book about sea turtles that I know her mind is a million miles away. When she nces back, I see she¡¯s about to say something important, but gets interrupted by Creed.


    ¡°Boys¡¯ love?¡± he asks, appearing out of nowhere and sweeping the manga from my hands before I can stop him. ¡°How gauche. I¡¯ve told Miranda not to waste her time reading these things: it¡¯s basically porn in the shape of aic book.¡±


    ¡°How about you get fucked?¡± Miranda snaps at her twin, and I raise my eyebrows. ¡°If Marnye cared what you thought, she¡¯d ask.¡± Creed narrows his ice-blue eyes at her, and they have an epic stare down that only a pair of twins could aplish. mes practically crackle in the air between them.


    It doesn¡¯t bother me though because Creed¡¯s one and only admirable trait is the protective brother thing. He¡¯d kill for his sister; I know he would.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to excuse myself,¡± I murmur, standing up and slipping away.


    I end up bumping-quite literally-into Zack in the next aisle. He actually looks surprised to see me, a book of poems open in one hand, his academy- issued tablet on the table next to him. Aww, he¡¯s actually studying. Zack is by no means the top of the ss, but since the school year started he¡¯s worked his way up from the bottom twenty percent to the top fifty. Huge improvement.


    ¡°Do you need any help?¡± I ask, peeping at the cover to see what he¡¯s looking at. ¡°Ah, Emily Dickinson. Did you know many of her poems are still under copyright? She¡¯s a ssic, a legend, and she¡¯s long-dead. Do you want


    to know how messed up copyrightw has actually be? It used to be a tool of the people, and now it¡¯s used against the people by corpor-¡±


    Zack puts a finger on my lips to shush my rambling, and then leans down suddenly, recing his hand with his mouth.


    The book of poems falls to the ground between us, and I¡¯m soon standing with my back against a wall of literature while Zack explores my mouth with his tongue. His big arms sweep around me, filling me with this sense of protection and safety. When did that happen? When did I go from hating Zack to ¡­ liking him?


    We break apart with a small gasp, his dark eyes locked on mine, burning with need.


    ¡°You can tell me about Emily Dickinson, or copyrightw, or random historical facts whenever you want, Marnye. I think it¡¯s hot.¡±


    ¡°Hot for me to tell you the library wing was an addition added to Burberry in the early neen hundreds by a grant from the Vanderbilt family?¡± I choke out and Zack grins. He kisses me again, and I swoon so badly that if his arms weren¡¯t there, I would fall over.

 134

    ¡°So fucking hot. Except for the name Vanderbilt. Let¡¯s just leave that part out.¡± He moves to kiss me again when a dramatic throat clearing breaks us up, a sudden foot of space appearing between our bodies as we turn to find Windsor York ¡­ lounging on top of a book case?


    ¡°How did you get up there?¡± I choke out, and he shrugs. He¡¯s all stretched out on the wood like it¡¯s a hammock or something. ¡°You¡¯re going to get suspended,¡± I warn as he looks down at us with his hazel eyes sparkling.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop on my ount. asionally I get tired of fucking and like to watch.¡± My nose wrinkles, and Zack scowls, gathering his book from the floor. Windsor doesn¡¯t seem to care, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. He hops down to the ground next to us. ¡°So.¡± He props his forearm on the shelf above me and leans in dramatically. ¡°I was thinking: you¡¯ve got a few names on your list that aren¡¯t crossed off. Small fries, though. We should knock those out, and then focus on the girls.¡±This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°I showed you that list, so you could offer suggestions, not take over,¡± I say with a roll of my eyes. Windsor raises his eyebrows and gives this self- satisfied little smirk that I couldn¡¯t force my mouth to make if I tried. Once, I stood in front of the mirror to see if I could get my expression to look as haughty and arrogant as the Idols, and I failed miserably. ¡°I¡¯m working my way up to the girls. They¡¯re the most difficult.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve also gone too soft on the Idol boys, in my not-so-humble opinion,¡± he continues, and I duck under his arm to head back over to Zack. Heat is still coursing through me, rampant and white-hot, infectious. Now that I¡¯ve had a taste of him, I just want more. So much more. I could easily see dating him one day ¡­


    One day.


    But the Idols already think I¡¯m dating him, and I need the boys to think I¡¯m essible enough that they could get me as a date to the graduation getaway. Unfortunately, I might have to put a bit of space between me and Zack for now.


    ¡°Windsor, I told you my story, yes, but that doesn¡¯t mean you know everything.¡± Told you my story, hah, please. BasiFally you sit aFross from me in The Mess everyday and work your prinFely magiF until I spill all my seFrets. ¡°Forget about the guys for now. The girls are trying to kill me, remember? Can we focus?¡±


    He sighs and shrugs, rolling his shoulders as he taps his fingers along the spines of several poetry volumes and then selects one at random. He flips it open, nces at the poems inside and sighs.


    ¡°I¡¯ve memorized all of these,¡± he says as he flicks through the pages. ¡°There¡¯s nothing quite so charming as a man that can recite poetry from the heart. Wouldn¡¯t you say so, mate?¡± He nces up and smiles at Zack, but Zack is not impressed. The only thing he likes about the prince is that the prince hates the Bluebloods as much as we do. What was it he said? ¡°They¡¯re only ying at being royals.¡± Pretty sure he finds them as amusing as hamsters on a wheel.


    ¡°You know, all I have is at your disposal as well ¡­¡± Zack begins, running his palm over his chocte brown hair. It¡¯s grown out quite a bit since he got kicked off the football team, but it¡¯s still short. I resist the urge to touch it, too. ¡°We don¡¯t have to put up with him.¡± Windsor chuckles and snaps the book closed, shoving it back onto the shelf.


    ¡°Your money, Monsieur Brooks, is all tied up in your grandfather¡¯s spindly old hands. Isn¡¯t that why you joined the Infinity Club? To get it back?¡± Zack¡¯s face pales as I nce over at him. Holy ¡­ shit.


    ¡°You joined to get your money back?¡± I ask, and all the pieces start to click together. At least I have a why that exins why Zack made that bet with Lizzie. Does it make things easier? Not exactly. But it¡¯s nice to know. Speaking of Lizzie, I¡¯m starting to look forward to Fridays again, so I can


    text her. She knows all about what the Burberry Idol girls did to me, and she is out for blood. Pretty sure I have her help and resources, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye,¡± Zack whispers, and we end up staring at each other for so long that when I blink ande to, Windsor has disappeared. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± There¡¯s nothing for me to say, so I just smile tightly and we drop the subject altogether. Zack gathers up his stuff, and we head toward the exit where Creed and Miranda are, still wrapped up in a very twin-like argument. They look like blonde, blue-eyed clones.


    They pause, and in near perfect unison, turn to look at me.


    My cheeks flush under their scrutiny, but Creed pretends not to notice, turning and sauntering off toward the hall. Miranda takes up my right side and starts to loudlyin about her brother¡¯s idiocy. On the way out, we pass right by Ileana, Becky, and Harper. Creed¡¯s already paused there, and I can hear him murmuring in low, tight tones.


    Miranda does not hesitate to get involved.


    ¡°You stay the fuck away from my brother,¡± she hisses, shoving Ileana in the shoulder. The first year girl stumbles and whirls on her with narrowed eyes. Harper and Becky just stand there, smirking. Seeing them all together like this brings those memories roaring back to the surface, and I feel sick. I think I sway on my feet, but Zack puts a hand on my elbow and steadies me. ¡°He might want a good name to go with our fortune, but you won¡¯t see a damn dime of the Cabot money. You¡¯re not good enough to be his hairdresser let alone his girlfriend or future bride.¡±


    Creed doesn¡¯t argue. Actually, I think I see the corner of his mouth twitch in a barely suppressed smile.


    ¡°This conversation doesn¡¯t involve you, dyke,¡± Ileana snarls, and Creed¡¯s face turns to stone. Ileana whips back around toward him, but it¡¯s toote: whatever they might¡¯ve been talking about is over. Hopefully they weren¡¯t doing much more than breaking up or exchanging quips. I mean, the girl tried to freaking drown me.


    I nce over at Creed, but his ice-cold stare is focused on the Idols.


    ¡°She said you should be kicked out,¡± I blurt suddenly, nodding in Harper¡¯s direction with my chin. ¡°Harper did. She thinks Windsor should be an Idol and not you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, that was before I realized he was a Brothel client, too, just like all the rest of them.¡± Harper grabs Ileana by the arm and pulls her back. ¡°Forget about Cabot. There are other, better guys to choose from.¡±


    ¡°None as rich though,¡± Creed drawls, tucking his hands into his pockets, and letting thiszy smirk take over his face. ¡°Enjoy your dwindling fortune. Being old money is nice, but only when you actually have money.¡±


    ¡°Screw you, Cabot,¡± Ileana snaps, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. Maybe eventually, I¡¯ll cut hers off, too. ¡°You¡¯re making a huge mistake here. Fucking huge. You¡¯ll never be respected in the Club. You¡¯ll always be the new guy whose mommy bought his way in.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll always be the girl with the chip on her shoulder because I¡¯d willingly fuck the Working Girl before I¡¯d every hands on you.¡± Creed turns on his heel and saunters off as my eyes widen, and Ileana¡¯s mouth drops to the floor. The re she turns on me is pure hate.


    ¡°Next time,¡± she snaps as Harper and Becky nk her, ¡°there isn¡¯t going to be a prince to save you.¡±

 135

    I¡¯ve been secretly dreading Valentine¡¯s Day since ¡­ well, the school year started. Last year was eventful enough. This year ¡­ I¡¯m not sure what I should do. I decide that, as much as it pains me, I have to send the Idol boys roses. If I want to draw them in the way they did me, why not use the same techniques?


    So, I order a rose each for Tristan, Zayd, and Creed as well as for Zack, Miranda, Andrew ¡­ and Windsor. Why not? At thest minute, I even order one for Jessie. She might not be dating Miranda anymore, but she¡¯s still getting picked on by the Inner Circle, and I feel like it¡¯s at least partially my fault.


    ¡°What a quaint little tradition,¡± Windsor says, pausing next to the seller¡¯s booth to sniff the bouquet that¡¯s on disy. That¡¯s his personality right there: he¡¯s very much a stop and sniff the roses type. ¡°But I have too many girlfriends to send out roses. If I tried, I¡¯d probably forget a good half dozen, and that wouldn¡¯t be pleasant, now would it?¡±


    I give him a disgusted look, and he smiles at me, bending down to sign the form as I frown.


    ¡°You just said you¡¯re not sending flowers? What are you doing?¡±


    Windsor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a five dor bill, tossing it on the table and stepping back.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want a flower? Really, it¡¯s the least I could do for my new friend. You¡¯re truly the only person who talks to me who doesn¡¯t want


    money, sex, or gossip.¡± Wind shrugs his shoulders and then pauses as Tristan approaches the table, pausing next to me, his peppermint and cinnamon scent overwhelming as I suck in a sharp breath.


    I¡¯d sort of forgotten how awe-inspiring it was to stand so close to him. That moment on the boat when he grabbed my arms and kissed me hard and fast. ¡°Just remember that Creed isn¡¯t the only one that¡¯s interested.¡± My heart melted when he said that. Even knowing it¡¯s all a lie now doesn¡¯t make that feeling go away.


    ¡°Fuck these stupid roses,¡± he says, his voice like the fine edge of a knife. I¡¯m okay where I¡¯m standing now, but one wrong move and I¡¯m going to get cut. I¡¯m going to bleed. ¡°I¡¯ve put myself on the Do Not Send List.¡±


    Tristan ¡­ is talking to me? I blink stupidly at him. ¡°There¡¯s a Do Not Send List?¡± I ask, and he nods. Windsor makes a noise behind us.


    ¡°That¡¯s a fabulous idea ¡­ sign me up. Or rather unsign me up.¡± Tristan and I both ignore him.


    ¡°Did you hear about the spring break trip for the honor students?¡± His voice is so hard to read; it¡¯s impossible for me to figure out what he¡¯s thinking.


    ¡°To Paris?¡± I ask, and he nods briefly. Of course I¡¯ve heard of the trip. It¡¯s been featured like a prize in every school newsletter since that first week in September, a special treat to dangle in front of the student body to get everyone to work harder. The thing is, I¡¯ve heard the Plebs talking: it¡¯s just Paris, who Fares? Pretty sure the only person here who hasn¡¯t been to France is me. ¡°I haven¡¯t let myself think about it. I¡¯ve been so busy that my grades have slipped ¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still number one in the ss,¡± he says, gray eyes so dark they¡¯re more of a charcoal than a silver right now. I wonder if he¡¯s thinking about that test and essay, how he¡¯d probably be the highest ranked student in the school if I hadn¡¯t sabotaged him. Or rather, if I hadn¡¯t turned his sabotage back on him. ¡°It¡¯ll be me and you on that trip. Nobody elsees close.¡±Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°I ¡­¡± Have no idea. Tristan looks up, meets Windsor¡¯s eyes, and sneers before he heads off down the hallway without so much as a goodbye. Interesting.


    ¡°Sunny, cheerful bloke, isn¡¯t he?¡± Windsor asks,ing to stand beside me with his hands in his pockets. ¡°And, by the way, I asked them to make an exception: you¡¯re the only person allowed to send me a rose.¡± He bends


    down and gives me another of those quick, European cheek kisses. My silly American heart takes it far too personally, and I have to hold back a small sigh. My fingers touch my cheek, and I turn away to head down the hall, being careful to avoid the boys for the rest of the day.


    With Tristan and Windsor both on the Do Not Send List, most of the attention on Valentine¡¯s Day goes to the girls. All the Idol women are showered with roses, same goes for Valentina and Abigail. I guess the Plebs used to call them the fucked-up foursome. Must be the fucked-up fivesome now with that horrid bitch Ileana in their ranks.


    Me, I get roses from Miranda, Andrew, Windsor, and Zack.


    They¡¯ve all written super sweet little cards, and I even get a tiny present from Zack, wrapped in shimmery opalescent paper. He grins sheepishly when he delivers it to my dormter.


    ¡°It goes with the one I gave you for your birthday,¡± he tells me, and I realize with a start that I¡¯ve never opened it. I excuse myself on the pretense of needing to pee, and grab the unwrapped package from my wardrobe drawer, popping into the restroom for some privacy.


    There¡¯s so much tape on the package, that I have to use my nail clippers to cut into it.


    Inside, there¡¯s a pair of season tickets to the San Francisco Symphony clipped to a small rectangle of cardboard. My mouth drops open, and I feel terrible for leaving the gift for so long. To be quite honest, I forgot all about it. My loss, I suppose, since I could¡¯ve used these during winter break to go with my dad.


    When I step out of the bathroom, Zack¡¯s waiting on the edge of my bed with the other gift. I hold the tickets up and he smiles, not like he¡¯s upset or anything, but more like he¡¯s not surprised either.


    ¡°I figured you hadn¡¯t opened it,¡± he says, and I cringe. ¡°That¡¯s okay. At least you¡¯ve got them now.¡± I sit down next to him and carefully unwrap the new package, finding another ticket to match the first two. ¡°You know, in case you wanted to take Miranda or something ¡­¡± he adds, but I know


    we¡¯re both thinking about if he and I were to go together. We¡¯re sitting so close that I can feel his body heat, and I have to close my eyes against the curiosity about what would happen if I were to give in and go to him.

 136

    ¡°Thank you for these. You always give such thoughtful gifts.¡± My hands are trembling, and my heart is racing. Pretty sure those are the only words I¡¯m going to be able to get out. I like Zack now, I really do. Part of me wishes he really was my boyfriend. Maybe,ter, he can be. Just not right now.


    ¡°Are you going to the garden party?¡± Zack asks softly, but I¡¯m already shaking my head. I have a few deliveries to make: small care packages for each of the Idol boys with an attached, handwritten note. I miss you. It¡¯s the best I can do. I¡¯ll deliver them while they are all at the party, so I don¡¯t have to see their faces when they read it. If one of them were to reject me outright


    ¡­ I can¡¯t think about that: my dad¡¯s wellbeing is on the fucking line.


    This Valentine¡¯s Day is so different than thest one. All I can think about is Zack and how much I want to go and dance with him. Yet, I¡¯ve got my bet with Harper, and I need to keep the Idol boys from seeing too much of me with him.


    Like I told Windsor: I¡¯m not about dating anyone just now. It¡¯s all so confusing.


    I exhale and Zack stands up, turning around to look at me with a small smile.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. I get it.¡± He knows about the bet-he¡¯s the only one-so I look up with an apologetic expression that I hope he understands. ¡°Get some rest and I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I repeat again, blushing furiously when he leans down and kisses me hotly on the mouth. Zack turns and leaves, and I curl up on my bed with my roses, my tickets, and some choctes that Miranda gave me.


    It¡¯s best if I leave the boys alone on such a romantic day. I¡¯m already confused enough as it is.


    The following week, the staff acknowledges Tristan and me in the morning announcements as the honor students selected for the spring Paris trip. Part of me wants to refuse, so I can go home and be with my dad, but he assures me that he¡¯s feeling much better and that I should go. I feel selfish as hell, but I know the trip will give me a good opportunity to bond with Tristan. He¡¯s the most difficult of the Idols to find any time alone with. He¡¯s always surrounded by fans ¡­ or Harper. Although I haven¡¯t seen them touch each other since the drowning incident.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you wonder when the girls made that bet?¡± Windsor asks me as he escorts me to cheerleading practice. I shrug. The thought had crossed my mind, but what does it matter? I¡¯m not going to hurt myself like that ever again. The Idols can do their damned best. By the end of this year, I¡¯ll have secured treatment for my dad, the boys will have learned a valuable lesson, and then next year ¡­ I might have to use next year to focus my revenge- attention on the girls.


    ¡°I suppose. Why?¡± he shrugs like it doesn¡¯t matter, but he¡¯s got this mischievous smile on his face that scares me. ¡°Don¡¯t go getting any ideas. ns as delicate as mine can¡¯t be rushed.¡±


    ¡°Sure they can,¡± he says as he opens the door to the gym for me. ¡°You¡¯re just too ¡­ high-ss about it. Don¡¯t wait around for them to give you ammo. Make your own.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°No.¡± I look him dead in the face. ¡°If it takes me the rest of my Burberry career to finish that list, fine. I¡¯m not going to stir shit up where there isn¡¯t any. Every single one of the Bluebloods has dirt that will rise to the surface eventually.¡±


    Windsor looks skeptical, but since we¡¯re at the gym already, the conversation is over. He¡¯s not allowed in anymore after the girls got so distracted by him during thest practice that they dropped a first year girl during our stunt routine. She¡¯s okay, but her twisted ankle is the size of an eggnt. Same color, too.


    ¡°Whatever you say, mdy,¡± he says, sweeping a dramatic bow just before the door closes.


    With a sigh, I head inside and try to focus on keeping my own ankle un- twisted. Having a head too full of boy thoughts is distracting.


    At least by the time Friday rolls around, Tristan has started showing up at my orchestra rehearsals again. The first time he does, our eyes meet from


    across the room, and it¡¯s like this connection between us that was pinched and shriveled opens up, and blood begins to flow all over again.


    He smiles at me from the back row, and even though it¡¯s far away and hard to see, I almost think it might be genuine.


    Maybe.


    Of course, the rest of the time, he¡¯s still very much an asshole.


    ¡°Windsor York has no business on this trip,¡± he snaps as Ms. Felton raises an eyebrow and hands us both our passports back. I wouldn¡¯t even have a passport at all if Burberry Prep didn¡¯t require one for admission. I got itst year, tucked it away in a drawer, and assumed I wouldn¡¯t be using until I was thirty.


    Looks like I was wrong about that one.


    ¡°No business on this trip?¡± Windsor pouts with a little moue. ¡°Why, Mr. Vanderbilt, I¡¯m bloody hurt. Don¡¯t you know I lived in Paris for years?¡± Tristan looks irritated, but he says nothing, instead keeping his attention on our teacher. She¡¯s seated behind the desk in her office on the top floor of Tower One, looking between the two boys and sighing.


    ¡°You know there¡¯s a student guide every year, Mr. Vanderbilt, and this year, it is Burberry Prep¡¯s turn to provide that student. There¡¯s no one here besides yourself who has his level of experience. I¡¯m sorry you two seem to be having a problem with each other, but as your actions at the end ofst year were less than savory, I think you should just count your lucky stars you¡¯re even a student at the academy at all.¡±


    Tristan¡¯s jaw clenches in frustration, and he flicks a nce my way before leveling his re back on Windsor. The prince is just smiling away, happy as a m. He¡¯s loving this moment way too much.


    ¡°Now, Miss Reed, I¡¯ve asked you this in private, and I¡¯m going to ask you again: are you sure you¡¯refortable attending this trip with Mr. Vanderbilt. If not, he will be reced with the third-ranked student in your grade, and given alternate trip arrangements.¡± There¡¯s a long, tense moment where Tristan, Windsor, and Ms. Felton are all staring at me.


    If I were on my regr revenge track, I¡¯d probably take that opportunity to boot Tristan out of the travel group. The thing is, he¡¯s been to Paris before, and he can afford to go whenever he wants. It wouldn¡¯t be such a big hit to him. But seeing his face at the graduation g when I reveal my bet with Har


    per? That sounds so much better.

 137

    My heart aches and throbs, but I ignore it. My emotions for the Idol boys are confusing as hell, but I can¡¯t let them derail me. Last year, I paid too much attention to my heart and hormones, and it didn¡¯t end well.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I tell her, and she nods, rising from her desk and showing us out the door.


    Windsor quickly makes himself scarce, but Tristan surprises me by following me to The Mess. He even sits down at my usual table, taking Miranda¡¯s spot and staring at me.


    ¡°Do you still have the watch?¡± he asks, and I nod. ¡°The ne?¡± ¡°Why?¡± I whisper, and he sighs, looking tired all of a sudden.


    ¡°Can I have them back? I¡¯ll pay you for them. I just ¡­ don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea if either Harper or my dad sees them again.¡± He looks right at me, and there¡¯s this stark truthfulness in his gray eyes that I¡¯ve never seen before. My mind immediately goes back to that moment in the library where he could¡¯ve gone further, done more, touched me in more intimate ces ¡­ and didn¡¯t. Did he know we were being filmed? It¡¯s hard to say, but I imagine yes. ¡°Actually, I shouldn¡¯t be sitting here with you at all.¡±


    ¡°Because the Plebs might put your head in a guillotine if they see you with the Working Girl?¡± I query. It¡¯s supposed to be a joke, but Tristan doesn¡¯t seem to find it funny. He just sits there and stares at me, his raven-dark hair falling across his forehead, his tongue tracing his lower lip as he nces away.


    ¡°Could you bring the watch and the ne on Monday? I¡¯ve got cash.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want your cash, Tristan,¡± I whisper, but I¡¯ve still got that debit


    card he set up for me, so I suppose that¡¯s not entirely true. ¡°But yes, you can have them back.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a moment, and we both pause as the waiter approaches and we put in our order. Neither of us says anything as we sit and wait for our food, but when his foot bumps mine under the table, our gazes snap up and lock. It¡¯s like there¡¯s a thread between us, pulling us together when every rational part of me says I should be keeping us apart.


    It¡¯s all for the bet, I tell myself, but even that¡¯s a lie. I wonder if the guys ever felt like that when they were with mest year. Did they ever struggle with any real emotions?


    ¡°Why did you pick him?¡± Tristan asks suddenly, but I notice he doesn¡¯t move his foot. We stay touching. ¡°Why did you pick Zayd?¡±


    I tuck my lower lip under my teeth and nce away, but I don¡¯t have an answer to that question. I didn¡¯t want to Fhoose; I hated it. But this is the real world, and I Fouldn¡¯t have all three of you. There was no right FhoiFe, and somehow, I knew that no matter whose dress I wore, it would be the wrong one.


    ¡°It¡¯splicated,¡± I whisper, but Tristan scowls at me. ¡°What? I cared about you guys. Wasn¡¯t that the point of the bet? To make me ¡­ think I might be in love with you? You all seeded, so there. If you need more trophies, I¡¯ll order them for you.¡± He snaps his attention back to mine, and his hands tighten into fists on the table.


    ¡°You think you have it hard?¡± he asks, and there¡¯s this thread of helplessness paired with the steel in his voice that I don¡¯t understand, that I can¡¯t interpret. His gray eyes are stormy and clouded with frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t get to love. I¡¯ll never know if someone truly cares about me, or if they¡¯re after my name or my money. And my dad ¡­ you saw my dad when he gave me the watch. Besides, I¡¯m not stupid: I know it was you outside the VIP room at the ski lodge. He doesn¡¯t love me: he owns me. I¡¯m just a pawn for his bullshit.¡±


    I swallow hard, my heart pounding. My first response is to drawl: ahh, poor little riFh boy. I should. I should say that and watch the hurt flicker across his face. But then there¡¯s the bet ¡­ and also, there¡¯s my humanity. I can¡¯t make myself say it.


    ¡°If you really want it, one day you could find it,¡± I whisper, and Tristan stares at me across the surface of the table.


    ¡°Find what?¡± he growls, reaching up to mess with his dark hair.


    ¡°Love. It¡¯s possible for someone to love you for you, Tristan. Trust me, I know: I was there.¡±


    He drops his hand and stares at me like he¡¯s seen a ghost.


    In the next instant, he¡¯s standing up and shoving the tes, cups, and silverware to the floor. They crash and break as he leans over and grabs me by my tie, yanking me forward as he covers the surface of the table with his


    body. His mouth crashes into mine, and I break and burn in a million different ways.


    Tristan¡¯s tongue sweeps my lower lip, pulls it between his teeth, and then ims mepletely and wholly, in a way I¡¯ve always dreamed of. My handse up to grab onto his shirt, but he grabs both wrists in one of his own and holds them in ce between us, making it look like I¡¯m begging for more of him. Maybe I am, I can¡¯t tell.


    He kisses me until the door to the kitchen opens and our waiter appears. When he releases me, the sudden break between us leaves me ice-cold,


    and I slump back in my seat.


    Tristan storms out of The Mess, ms the door, and abandons me with a sd, a thumping heart, and a whole tornado of emotions that wreck me from the inside out.


    Crap.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Revenge is best served cold, right? This feels steaming hot, and I¡¯m not sure


    if I hate it ¡­ or love it.

 138

    During my tutoring sessions with Creed, I make sure that we talk about things other than work. I even ept a few invites from Miranda to hang out in their apartment. Slowly, Creed starts toe around, and even though he ignores me in the halls, he¡¯s very close to the same guy I remember fromst year when we¡¯re in private.


    We¡¯re back to watching movies on his couch, and it¡¯s not a rare urrence for me toe over and find him in nothing but sweats, a towel around his neck, a ss of water in his hand as he takes me in with a sweep of those cold, blue eyes.


    Oddly enough, I¡¯m having the most trouble getting Zayd to talk me.


    A week out from spring break, I get tired of it and track him down in the music room while he¡¯s ying guitar. He doesn¡¯t notice me until I¡¯m standing right next to him, humming some song under his breath that I¡¯m surprised to find I actually like. I¡¯ve never been much for contemporary music, so that¡¯s a huge thing for me.


    ¡°Whoa, Charity, what are you doing here?¡± he asks, blinking his green eyes at me and looking almost sheepish about being caught with his hands on an instrument. I cross my arms over my chest and watch him as he sets it aside and turns to stare me down. He looks too tired to pull the full rockstar asshole routine.


    ¡°I¡¯m here because you¡¯re avoiding me.¡± Zayd¡¯s nostrils res, but he has nowhere to hide, so he¡¯s forced to sit there and deal with me. ¡°Why? You


    told me about Tristan¡¯s n with the essay and the test, and then you came to my room to tell me about the bet the girls made. You must care a little, or you wouldn¡¯t have bothered. Besides, for guys who im they hate my guts, Creed and Tristan seem willing to hang out.¡±


    Zayd¡¯s shoulders stiffen, and he grits his teeth. He rubs one inked hand up his other equally tattooed arm. His sleeves are rolled up, his red tiepletely undone and hanging over his mostly unbuttoned shirt.


    ¡°Fuck off, Charity,¡± he says, but there¡¯s no heat left. I wonder what else is going on behind the scenes with the boys that I don¡¯t know about. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t havee back here, you know? Like, didn¡¯t we make it obvious that you don¡¯t belong here?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I challenge, stepping forward and getting into his space. My pulse is racing so fast that I¡¯m starting to feel dizzy. ¡°Because I¡¯m poor? Or because you don¡¯t want me to get hurt?¡±This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°Both? Neither? I don¡¯t fucking know.¡± He stands up, and I¡¯m forced to take a small step back to keep us from brushing together. I¡¯d forgotten how tall he was, how beautiful, his hair freshly dyed with that same sea green fromst year. It¡¯s hard to look away from his lip rings when he starts to tease them with his tongue. ¡°Look, you took my music career away from me. What more do you want?¡±


    ¡°I want us to be friends again,¡± I blurt without meaning to. I¡¯m actually starting to wonder if I¡¯m straying from my chosen path here, if there¡¯s more going on between us than just revenge and hormones.


    ¡°Yeah, well, we were never friends,¡± he says, but when he tries to walk away, I grab his hand and squeeze it. Our eyes meet, and I refuse to look away first.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be so hard on your ghostwriter,¡± I say, and he blinks confusedly at me. ¡°That song, the one you hate so much, the one your friendsughed at ¡­ I liked it. A lot. So don¡¯t knock whoever the recordpany paid to write it, okay?¡¯


    Zayd stares at me for longer than should be appropriate before tearing his hand from my grip and bailing up the music room steps and out the door. For several moments after, I feel too heavy to move, so I slump down on the table where Zayd was sitting, and just try to remember how to breathe.


    ¡°Bravo,¡± Windsor says, surprising me as he appears from the darkness of Mr. Carter¡¯s office. ¡°You¡¯re really sticking it to them.¡±


    ¡°Leave me alone, Wind,¡± I groan, but he ignores me and sits down in a chair with a ck instrument case in his hand. When he pulls out the flute, I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Like I said, you don¡¯t know everything. Just ¡­ help me with the girls, okay? I could really use a friend right now.¡± I push some hair away from my forehead.


    Windsor watches me for a moment, and then holds up his instrument. ¡°y a duet with me?¡± he asks, and I blink in surprise. I had no idea he


    could y the flute. Of course, he is a prince, so I¡¯m sure he ys a dozen instruments I don¡¯t know about. He hands me some sheet music. ¡°You can follow this, can¡¯t you?¡±


    I nod, and he grins, gesturing with his chin in the direction of the pedal harp.


    Even though I¡¯m exhausted and could really use the sleep, I sit down, set up my music, and wait for him to start ying.


    Windsor is good, almost too good. The way he ys makes my heart flutter with each note, this cheerful but introspective collection of sounds that seem to draw my fingers along the strings as if by magic. Once that song is done, we y another. And another. We y for so long that my hands begin to cramp, and one of the security guards finallyes and kicks us out.


    The prince walks me back to my room with an unhurried ease, and when he gets me to my door, he leans in for another of his cheek kisses. I mess it all up by turning my head, and our mouths brush for the briefest of moments. It¡¯s a short, sweet, idental kiss, but it makes my toes curl, and a small, strange soun


    d rises from my throat.

 139

    The way Wind looks at me ¡­ I feel all sorts of flutters inside. Guess I¡¯m crushing on the damn prince as much as everyone else. He smiles, like he knows what I¡¯m thinking.


    ¡°Like I said, prettiest girl in the school. If you want to try dating, lovely, just let me know. I can¡¯t promise it¡¯llst long, but I bet we could have some fun together.¡± He stands up straight, pushing his red hair off his forehead to make it stand up. His hazel eyes watch mine for a long moment, before he nods, bids me adieu, and disappears down the hall towards the courtyard and the towers.


    Me, I flee into my dorm room, lock it behind me, and sit on the floor for almost an hour, lost in thought.


    Life at Burberry Prep is never boring, now is it?


    The trip to the airport is tense. Windsor and Tristan are like oil and water, with me stuck in the middle. I do my best to ignore it and stay neutral between the two, but they don¡¯t make it easy.


    Fortunately, we¡¯re flying business ss. I guess this means that I get an entire miniature pce to myself. My seat turns into a bed, I¡¯ve got a huge screen to watch movies, and the flight attendant even stops off to give me a warm towel to clean my hands. It¡¯s pretty ¡­ luxe.


    ¡°Never sat in business ss before?¡± Windsor guesses, leaning over the back of my seat. ¡°Me neither. Of course, that¡¯s because when I fly, I usually go in my family¡¯s private jet. But I suppose this will do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an arrogant asshole,¡± I grumble, still enchanted by the set up. Heughs at me, but I¡¯m just thrilled to be going on a trip at all, private jet or no. I¡¯d happily sit on the toilet for the entire duration, just for the honor of being able to travel. I¡¯ve only been on a ne once, and that was just to fly down to see my grandfather before he passed away. It was nothing like this.


    After we take off, Windsor undoes his seat belt and spends half the flight picking out movies with me and providing his unusualmentary. When I head to the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of Tristan¡¯s face, drawn taut with irritation. His eyes find mine, but we haven¡¯t talked since he kissed me, so I¡¯m not really sure what to say.


    Instead, I use the bathroom as fast as I can and flee back to my seat, putting on my headphones to shut the prince out for the rest of the ride.


    Once wend, clear customs, and finally get to our hotel, I¡¯m exhausted. Ms. Felton gives us each the keys to our own rooms-spoiled rich kid privileges, I suppose-and I flop down on the bed only to pass out right after. In the morning, we all have breakfast in the upstairs lounge with sweeping views of the city and the Eiffel Tower.


    Both boys watch me like they¡¯ve never seen me before, as fascinated with my reactions tondmarks as I am with thendmarks themselves.


    ¡°It¡¯s like seeing it for the first time all over again, isn¡¯t it?¡± Windsor whispers at one point, but then we¡¯re being swept up into arger group,


    pped with name tags, and taken out to the see the city. The one rule we have is that we cannot for any reason, leave our partner¡¯s side.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    And by partner, of course, our guide is referring to Tristan. Each prep school has sent their top two students to dress in uniform and represent their academy as we tour the city. As the student guide, Windsor is all over the ce, and I don¡¯t see much of him.


    Several years back, the Notre Dame cathedral caught fire, but it¡¯s been restored to-from what I read online-much of its former glory.


    That¡¯s where we start our tour of the city in the early morning.


    As we¡¯re weaving our way through the crowd inside Notre Dame, the priests chanting their ghostly hymns, I feel this wild excitement burst open in my chest. Not only am I in Paris, freaking Paris, but I¡¯m in a building that dates back almost a thousand years. The history buff in me takes over and before I realize what I¡¯m doing, I¡¯m wrapping my arm around Tristan¡¯s and squeezing.


    He stiffens up for a second, but it doesn¡¯tst, and then he¡¯s rxing and letting me cling to the crisp white sleeve of his academy jacket.


    ¡°Are you seeing what I¡¯m seeing?¡± I whisper, trying to be respectful of the service taking ce. I¡¯m in no way religious, but I¡¯d rather not be rude. I look up at Tristan, and he raises his eyebrows. A little flutter starts up in my belly, but I tamp down on it. Thest thing I need to be feeling for this guy is


    ¡­ flutters. But we¡¯re paired up together for the remainder of the trip, and I¡¯m determined to have a good time. Besides, if I don¡¯t hold onto his arm, I¡¯ll get swept away in the crowd. It¡¯s happened a few times already.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it before,¡± he says, like he¡¯s bored out of his mind. His gray gaze sweeps over me and then flicks away, toward a wall of carvings with a sign exining their origin. Apparently, the entire church used to be covered in them, but this is the only surviving segment. I¡¯m practically salivating. ¡°But you look like you¡¯re about to have an orgasm.¡±


    He says thatst word so loudly that several people turn to look at us, and I flush.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say orgasm so loudly in a church,¡± I choke out, and Tristanughs. It may very well be the most genuine sound I¡¯ve ever heard pass by his full, sensuous lips. Oh no. No. No. You¡¯re doing it again, Marnye, you¡¯re forgetting what he did to you. My mind conjures up the image of Tristan¡¯s face fromst year, the cruel sound of his words. ¡°And you know what? The


    only prize ¡­ was that trophy. We did it for fun.¡± My tummy butterfliesnd and refuse to take flight again.


    ¡°You know,¡± Tristan continues, his voice much more pleasant than the echoes in my head, ¡°that orgasm isn¡¯t a bad word.¡± He turns to me, our arms still linked. Somehow it¡¯s more intimate like that, to be face to face with him with our arms woven together.


    ¡°I never said it was,¡± I whisper as the priests stop singing, and the sermon begins. It¡¯s in French, so I can¡¯t understand a word of it. It sounds pretty enough though.


    Tristan leans down and puts his thumb against my lower lip. Half of me considers biting it off while the other half ¡­ doesn¡¯t want to admit how damn good it feels.


    ¡°The passionate joining of man and woman, it¡¯s not a sin, it¡¯s God¡¯s blessing in the bedroom.¡± He leans in closer, like he¡¯s going to kiss me, but I pull back, yanking my arm from his. He smiles seductively, this practiced motion that I bet he¡¯s used on dozens of girls. Don¡¯t think about Kiara Xiao, I tell myself, but my mind goes there anyway, and I shiver. She¡¯s been nothing but a nightmare to me, and she¡¯s only just be a Blueblood.


    ¡°You don¡¯t strike me as a religious person,¡± I say, and Tristan shrugs, digging his hands into the pockets of his white cks. A huge group of tourists pushes past, and I get jostled and shoved. Tristan¡¯s there in a split- second, putting himself between them and me, and putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. He levels a re on the crowd that instantly puts a space bubble around us, and then he stands over me with this possessive tightening of his fingers that I don¡¯t understand. For someone that hates me as much as he ims to, he sure does like to touch me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not religious,¡± Tristan replies, finally letting go of me. He turns back to the long row of carvings, kings and bishops and Jesus himself done up in fine detail. ¡°None of this interests me.¡±


    ¡°But this is history,¡± I say, holding a hand out to indicate the church, my heart pounding wildly. This is seriously the longest conversation we¡¯ve had the entire year. It¡¯s making my pulse race like crazy. ¡°We can learn so much from the past.¡± I step closer to the velvet rope and curl my fingers around it, wishing I could get just a little bit closer. ¡°People make mistakes, Tristan, and if they don¡¯t learn from them, nothing changes.¡± I level a look on him th


    at he returns with unflinching ease.

 140

    After a moment, he steps closer and


    holds out his elbow. I take it, noticing that his body tenses when I dig my fingers into his jacket.


    ¡°My dad hates you, you know. He thinks you¡¯re the devil incarnate.¡± He says this casually, but with a hardness to his voice that says he wants me to know this for some reason, like it¡¯s super important. I take note and file that away, but I refuse to let thoughts of William Vanderbilt interrupt my afternoon.


    We spend the rest of the day in the Latin Quarter, walking past bars where Ernest Hemingway drank, and pausing at street vendors selling oil paintings of the city. The coffee in Paris is atrocious, the pastries fantastic, and thepany ¡­ not so bad as I¡¯d thought.


    Spring break might be two weeks long, but we only have five days in Paris, so we pack them as tight as we can with activities, using our second day to tackle Disnend.


    Tristan lets me cling to his arm and gush as we make our way from one ride to another. Despite his uptight personality and generally bad attitude, he¡¯s not a bad park buddy. He doesn¡¯t shy away from any ride, not even something as silly as the tea cups. He takes a selfie with me in front of the pink Disney castle, and even has lunch with me at the Pirates of the Caribbean restaurant. By the end of the day, I¡¯m sort of enjoying parading around the park in our matching white uniforms, watching girls¡¯ eyes track our movements with unbridled jealousy.


    On the train ride back to the hotel, I fall asleep with my head on Tristan¡¯s shoulder, and some strange, quiet part of me imagines him stroking his fingers through my hair.


    On ourst day in Paris, we hit the Eiffel Tower, but it¡¯s a little too crowded to be enjoyable, so we excuse ourselves to the park across the street to take pictures. Everything seems normal until Tristan stops walking abruptly.


    ¡°You okay?¡± I ask, blinking up at him.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Tristan starts, turning to face me. The way he¡¯s gazing down at my face, with his gray gaze softened, his mouth parted slightly, I expect something big. My heart races, and I feel my throat getting tight. No words wille. Instead, I wait for his. ¡°There are so many things ¡­ You can¡¯t stay at Burberry Prep. The Infinity Club is-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t me your actions on the Club,¡± I tell him, finally finding my voice again. My breathes in short, sharp, little pants. ¡°Don¡¯t do it. If you


    have something to say to me, then say it. But don¡¯t stand there and hide behind the club.¡±


    Tristan scowls, but then shakes his head, his raven-dark hair fluttering in the breeze. If I tilt my head just slightly, I can see the Eiffel Tower, standing proud in the pale blue afternoon sky. He takes another step closer to me and then raises his hands to my shoulders,ying his palms gently on them. My body tingles at the touch.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he starts, sounding so different than usual, almost eager, almost


    ¡­ sorry. ¡°I¡¯m-¡±


    ¡°Well, well, didn¡¯t realize you two were so close,¡± Windsor¡¯s voice calls out, and I swear, there¡¯s a sudden sh of rage in Tristan¡¯s gaze before a wall smashes down his emotions. I watch in desperate sadness as he locks away whatever he was going to say, and drops his arms to his sides before turning to re at the prince. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t mind me. I¡¯m content to stand here and watch.¡± Windsor smiles, but it isn¡¯t pleasant. He¡¯s clearly plotting right now. As much as I like him, I always have to remember that I¡¯m walking on a razor¡¯s edge. He¡¯s as dangerous as the rest of them.


    ¡°What are you even doing here?¡± Tristan growls, that practiced self- control of his slipping for a moment. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean at the Eiffel Tower: I mean on this trip, period.¡±


    Windsor shrugs his shoulders, palms up and out, in a helpless little who me? sort of a pose. He tucks his hands in his pockets, kicks at a stray pebble, and saunters over to us, his posture screaming nonchnce. The thing is, I¡¯ve known him for months now, and I can see a tightness around his mouth that isn¡¯t normally there.


    ¡°Well, I live purely for the conquest of leisure and enjoyment. And what is Paris, if not the city of excess?¡± Windsor¡¯s smile slips as the wind rustles his red hair. His hazel eyes are all for Tristan; he barely looks at me. A momentter, his mood snaps, and he¡¯s smiling again. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m the student guide, remember? I lived in Paris for three years. That, and I¡¯ve spent every summer here since I was three.¡±


    The boys are on either side of me, both substantially taller, both handsome but in different ways. My gaze flicks between the two of them, and my pulse picks up speed. I feel almost lightheaded, trapped between two worlds. American royalty and British royalty. It¡¯s a stand-off for the ages, that¡¯s for sure.


    Suddenly and without warning, both boysunch their hands at my wrists, gripping me almost too hard. Windsor is on my right and Tristan on my left. I¡¯m left blinking stupidly and wondering why they¡¯re gripping me for dear life.


    Tristan¡¯s gray eyes narrow to slits and Windsor smiles nice and wide, but scary. The former says something in French, words that roll off the tongue as easily in thenguage of love as they do in English. Windsor listens, flicks his attention my way, and then looks back at Tristan. His response is just as lovely, flowing with ease off his tongue. I catch a few words and phrases: petite amie, belle, and elle est a moi. Or ¡­ I think that¡¯s what I catch. But that¡¯s about it. I don¡¯t even know what any of it means.


    ¡°Marnye, choose,¡± Tristan deres, his chin held high, his dark hair obscuring his brows as its tousled in the breeze. ¡°Pick one of us to go with. Right now.¡±


    I gape, and my mouth parts in surprise. Choose? Between my enemy- turned-bet and my new friend? Surely Tristan isn¡¯t egotistical enough to think I¡¯d pick him. Besides, I already made a ¡®choice¡¯ once, and it didn¡¯t exactly go over well for me. Before I can even process the thought, Tristan¡¯s grip tightens, but Windsor¡¯s loosens, and he lets go of me suddenly, leaving a cool space where his hand had rested seconds earlier.


    He says something else in French, and Tristan¡¯s eyes sh with triumph, but then Windsor tucks his hands in his pockets and leans down to put his lips near my ear. When he speaks, his mouth brushes my earlobe and I shiver.


    ¡°I won¡¯t make you choose, love, not today.¡± He chuckles and I shiver. ¡°But if you really want your vengeance, slip this in his pocket when you get the chance.¡± I feel a slight weight in my right jacket pocket, and I blink in surprise as Windsor backs up, nods at Tristan, and winks at me. He turns on his heel and takes off in the direction of the Eiffel Tower.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    What ¡­ is all this crap about? My right hand surreptitiously dives into my pocket, and I feel a small stic wrapped item. ncing down, I see white powder and my face nches. Is this ¡­ what I think it is?! Windsor¡¯s just put cocaine in my pocket.


    Oh my god.


    Tristan rxes slightly, and looks askance at me. Whatever he was going to say earlier, it¡¯s gone, wiped clean from his face. He looks as cold and immovable as ever. His hand drops from my wrist and he takes a small step


    back. We exchange a long look, and my stomach flips over with nervousness.


    He made me think I cared about him. I won¡¯t be lied to again.


    But ¡­ I need him to go to the graduation g with me. Since he¡¯s engaged to Harper, he¡¯s a much harder target than Zayd and Creed.


    ¡°Where to now?¡± I ask, and he nces away, toward the park on our left, tucking his hands into the pockets of his cks. As soon as I¡¯ve got a moment, I dump the baggy into a trash can. Hang them with their own rope. So far as I know, Tristan doesn¡¯t use cocaine. I¡¯m not going to do this to him. I broke my rules once to punch Harper; I won¡¯t do it again.


    ¡°Back to the hotel. We have to leave for the airport early in the morning.¡± He nces briefly in my direction again. ¡°You know, my father owns a vineyard in Reims, and my family makes champagne. One day, I¡¯ll take you there.¡± And then he turns and walks off, leaving me feeling both confused and ted.


    This b


    et may very well be the death of me.

 141

    The rest of my spring break is spent decorating my new room, luxuriating in the bath (we never had a bath at the Train Car), and exploring the fancy Grenadine Heights neighborhood that our new rental just barely borders. But, technically, we are in the boundaries of Grenadine Heights; it¡¯s pretty freaking cool.


    Dad can only afford this though because he got those welding jobs from Robin¡¯s friends at Christmas. They liked his work so much that their friends have hired him, and their friend¡¯s friends. I just hope the jobs don¡¯t run out one day and we end up back at the Train Car. Technically, we own that free and clear, and rent the plot for some nominal amount. For now, it still belongs to the Reed family.


    I¡¯m so irritated with Windsor that I ignore his texts for three days before I respond.


    The FoFaine thing was over the top, I tell him, and he sends back an emoji shrugging its shoulders. When I don¡¯t find that particrly funny, he writes to me again.


    You¡¯re right. This is your game, not mine. I¡¯m not used to that.


    He waits a few minutes as I sit naked in the bath and stare at my phone, and then he starts typing again. I¡¯ll probably end up dropping my phone in the water at one point, and then we¡¯ll truly find out if it¡¯s waterproof or not. My skin is all wrinkly, and prune-y but I¡¯m not ready to get out yet.


    What I¡¯m trying to say, mdy, is that I¡¯m sorry.


    I read Wind¡¯s next text with a sigh and then message him back: You¡¯re forgiven. Just don¡¯t do it again.


    I¡¯m about to set my phone aside when another textes in, but this time, it¡¯s not from Windsor. No, this time it¡¯s from Zayd.


    Spring break on tour with Dad blows. XXX


    Butterflies take over my stomach, and I have to resist the urge to squeal. No way. I¡¯m not actually that excited, it¡¯s just ¡­ the bet and everything. Now that thest days of March are wasting away, I¡¯ve realized that I only really have April and May to get the guys to fall in love with me.


    Two months is not a lot of time, and June hardly counts since ourst day


    -and the day of the graduation g-is the fourteenth.


    Nothing happening here either. Any Fute groupies at the FonFerts?


    I have no idea why I asked that, and I cringe right after hitting send. Zayd starts typing and I get back severalughing emojis that remind me of his howlingughter.


    They¡¯re all like in their fifties, he replies, and then, It¡¯s torture. Dad¡¯s musiF suFks, too.


    Iugh, and sink a little lower in the bubbles. We keep texting, and by the time I realize how long I¡¯ve been in the bath, the water¡¯s cold and Dad¡¯s home from work. I send Zayd onest message and climb out, toweling off and slipping into jeans and a t-shirt.


    Anyway, with Zack gone to visit his grandfather, I¡¯m all alone in Cruz Bay with no one to hang out with. I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s a blessing or a curse. I¡¯m enjoying my time rxing and hanging out with Dad, but I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s been sneaking out at night to see Jennifer. We haven¡¯t talked about it, but I¡¯m just so d his tests have beening back with optimistic results, I don¡¯t press the matter.


    Not until dinner that evening.


    ¡°Jennifer would like to extend an invitation for you to spend the summer with her,¡± Dad says over the drawl of country music. We¡¯re sitting at a steakhouse that I paid for with that bet money of mine. I told Dad the truth: I won money ying poker. He didn¡¯t ask how much which is good because I refuse to lie, but I¡¯m also reticent to let him know. If he finds out I¡¯m mixed up in the weirdness of the Infinity Club, he¡¯d probably pull me from Burberry Prep kicking and screaming.This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯re still seeing her?¡± I ask, picking at my baked potato with my fork.


    Dad sighs and sips his beer, taking his time before answering me.


    ¡°Not that it¡¯s your business,¡± he eyes me with a critical gaze, ¡°but yes.¡± ¡°But she¡¯s not going to leave her husband for you?¡± Dad says nothing.


    ¡°And it doesn¡¯t bother you that you¡¯replicit in her cheating?¡± This time, he gets mad and puts down his fork. He looks at me with this deep-set frown in his face that I don¡¯t like. Charlie never frowns at me like that; I me Jennifer. ¡°She abandoned us, and she left me at a rest stop because I was inFonvenient. Dad, this sucks.¡±


    ¡°Marnye, that¡¯s enough.¡±


    My lips purse and I set my fork down, leaning back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to never see her again, to be honest with you. I¡¯ll be declining her summer invitation. Unless her invitation means I¡¯d get to meet my sister, then I¡¯ll consider it.¡± The way Dad¡¯s looking at me, I¡¯m guessing not. ¡°Then the answer is no. The woman¡¯s a coward who¡¯s denied me a rtionship with the only sibling I¡¯ll ever have.¡±


    Charlie grimaces.


    ¡°Fine then, Marnye, don¡¯t go. But I¡¯m a grown man, and if I want to have a rtionship with your mother-¡±


    ¡°Jennifer,¡± I correct, and he sighs.


    ¡°-Jennifer, then I will. And you don¡¯t have to like it, but you can at least be respectful of it.¡±


    Neither of us talks for the rest of the meal, and when I get home, I lock myself in my room and y my harp until the sunes up.


    Screw Jennifer.


    She didn¡¯t want to be my mom when I needed her, so I¡¯m not interested in having her around now.


    There¡¯s so much tension in the house after that, I¡¯m almost relieved when Andrew picks me up in his limo,


    and we head back to Burberry Prep.

 142

    I hit the ground running when I get back, diving into my studies and making sure my grades stay sharp. I also put extra effort into spending every spare moment with one of the Idol guys. Tristan ¡­ isplicated. We had a great


    time in Paris, and I felt like we were actually making progress, but now that we¡¯re back on campus, he¡¯s being standoffish and weird.


    Creed and Zayd are much easier toe by, and even though I think they¡¯re a tad shocked to see me open and forgiving, they start to grudgingly seek mypany out, too. At the end of the week when I text Lizzie and tell her about Tristan, she¡¯s strangely quiet. She gives me a few short, clipped replies, but that¡¯s about it. Her feelings for him seem to be as strong as ever, and for some reason, that bothers me. I don¡¯t know why, but it does, and I don¡¯t like it.


    Miranda, too, is acting a bit strange, asking me all sorts of questions about what I¡¯m doing with the guys. She¡¯s not dumb enough to think I¡¯ve actually forgiven them, but to her credit, I think she may be a tad worried about what I might do to her twin. I give her the best answers I can, and hope she can forgive me when the timees.


    The following weekend, Miranda tells me that Creed¡¯s stolen the key to the athletics center, so he can use the hot tub. Technically, it¡¯s just for student athletes who need the heat to soak sore muscles, and its use has to be approved by the school nurse.


    When I find him in there, he¡¯s just lounging in the bubbles with his eyes closed. I say nothing, tossing my towel onto the steps, and climbing in. He hears the ssh of my foot hitting the water, and groans.


    ¡°Miranda, I said you could use itter. What part of-¡± He stops talking as he opens his eyes and sees me there, submerged to my knees and standing on the circr bench seat. I lower myself into the heat as Creed¡¯s lids droop to their usual half-mast status. ¡°Well, hello there.¡± The guy sounds so rxed and cavalier, like he hasn¡¯t a care in the world. I wish my life were like that. Pretty sure his isn¡¯t either, but at least he puts up a good front.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind if I join you, right?¡± Creed shrugs his pale shoulders, and I can¡¯t quite keep my gaze from tracing down to the fine nes of his chest. He really has a beautiful body. ¡°You¡¯re not dating anyone right now, are you?¡±


    ¡°What would you care?¡± he replies smoothly, but not in a cruel way. This is just how he is, insouciant andzy and haughty.


    ¡°Just curious if there might be some angry Blueblood girl after me for being half-naked in a hot tub with her boyfriend,¡± I say, and one of Creed¡¯s brows goes up.


    ¡°Half-naked?¡± he says, narrowing his eyes to slits. ¡°If you think I¡¯m only half-naked under all of these bubbles, you¡¯re more naive than I thought.¡±


    My mouth gapes as Creed smirks at me, and my eyes immediately drop down to try and catch a glimpse ¡­ Guess he decides that vague references aren¡¯t enough, and stands up, shing me his full, um, glory. Holy freaking Frap, I think as Creed moves around the bench to sit close to me. We¡¯re not quite touching, but it feels like it, especially knowing he¡¯s not wearing anything at all.


    ¡°And if you get caught in here by a staff member?¡± I choke, trying to avoid thinking about the nice, hard length of his dick ¡­ No. No, no, no. Forcefully, I yank my mind from the gutter.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll stand up, sh them, and they¡¯ll be so ufortable at seeing a student¡¯s cock, they¡¯ll let me off with a mark or two.¡± He¡¯s so full of himself, it makes me want to pick. But that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for. I¡¯m trying to rebuild the rtionship we hadst year. ¡°What I want to know is why you¡¯re here, and your boyfriend isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Boyfriend?¡± I ask, and I think of Windsor a split-second before Zack. Why or how that happens, I¡¯m not sure, but it pisses me off. ¡°No, I don¡¯t have a boyfriend.¡±


    ¡°You just kiss Zack Brooks for fun?¡±


    ¡°I kissed you for funst year,¡± I say, and it¡¯s the wrong subject to bring up because Creed goes immediately silent. We sit there together in the heat and the bubbles, both staring in different directions. When he looks back at me, he tucks his fingers under his chin and stares me down like he¡¯s interrogating me.


    ¡°Why are you talking to me anyway? You said you missed me. Fine. But don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re over what happened.¡±


    ¡°I punished you,¡± I tell him, and he cringes. He knows I¡¯m talking about the journal, and about the email to his mother. ¡°We¡¯re even now. I want to move on, Creed. Your sister is my best friend, and your mom is my sponsor, and ¡­ we had a lot of fun together, didn¡¯t we?¡± He says nothing, just stares at me. ¡°What I¡¯m trying to figure out is when it changed for the three of you. At first, I could tell you truly hated me for who I was and what I stood for. But I think that after you made that bet and started spending time with me, things changed. Now I¡¯m wondering if you three are pushing me away this year to protect me.¡±


    Creed snorts, but he doesn¡¯t respond, and I¡¯m feeling suddenly worked up, like I¡¯m onto something.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re being standoffish and weird and mean, but it¡¯s also why you haven¡¯te at me with everything you¡¯ve got. Some part of you, even if it¡¯s buried deep down ¡­ maybe doesn¡¯t hate me quite so


    much as you want to?¡±

 143

    He ignores me, but I¡¯m suddenly shaking and sweating all at once. It¡¯s true, isn¡¯t it? As hard of a time as I¡¯m having feigning interest without feeling true feelings, they had the same problemst year. This fucking sucks. If my dad¡¯s health weren¡¯t on the line, if my career at Burberry wasn¡¯t


    ¡­ would I stop the bet with Harper now? It suddenly feels like overkill. I¡¯m almost d there¡¯s no way to back out of it. These boys need their lesson toe full circle.


    ¡°The girls aren¡¯t going to stop until you¡¯re irreparably damaged,¡± Creed says, sighing. He nces over at me and his lids open more than usual, exposing those gorgeous blue eyes of his. He takes me in appreciatively. ¡°You¡¯ve caught the attention of the Infinity Club, Marnye.¡± Oh god, he just Falled me Marnye. ¡°Leave, and stop torturing us.¡±


    Us.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    He just said us.


    ¡°Torturing you, how?¡± I ask, and then Creed¡¯s moving with lightning speed, dropping thatzy prince act for the unstoppable nightmare he is when he¡¯s defending Miranda. He yanks me onto hisp, and I¡¯m suddenly just straddling his hardness with my arms around his neck, his hands on my hips.


    Our kiss is sudden and fierce, and it makes me forget that any time has passed since thest moment his lips were on mine. I forget the pranks and the bets and the torture, and I¡¯m just grinding on him and kissing, small moans escaping us both.


    Creed is the one who pushes me back, blue eyes sparkling. This time, his heavy-lidded gaze is anything butzy. All it says to me is sex.


    ¡°How far do you want this to go?¡± he says, voice sharp with need. I swallow hard, and exhale, curling my fingers around his muscr shoulders. We press our foreheads together, and I feel like I might die. Despite everything, I missed this piece of shit. All I want is an ¡­ an I¡¯m sorry.


    ¡°Are you filming it this time?¡± I whisper, and Creed goes stiff beneath me.


    I mean, stiff in other ways, less good ones.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Are you ¡­¡± I lift my eyes up to his, and I can¡¯t help but think about Zack. This feels somewhat like a betrayal. I told him we weren¡¯t dating, that I could never be with him, but ¡­ ¡°Do you take pleasure in what you did to me?¡±


    Creed wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.


    Please say it, I think. Please.


    ¡°If you think I¡¯m going to tell anyone about this, I won¡¯t.¡± He exhales, and there¡¯s the first genuine bit of emotion I¡¯ve seen from him in a long time. ¡°You need to leave the school before it¡¯s toote.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of Harper and her bitch friends,¡± I snap, and Creed grits his teeth.


    ¡°Maybe you should be.¡± I sit down harder on his crotch and he groans. ¡°Jesus, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°You destroyed me,¡± I choke out. I don¡¯t mean to, but the words just fall from my lips. My body is still pulsing hot, my nipples hard, my lips aching from our kisses. ¡°Why? Why, Creed? Was it fun?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fucking sorry!¡± he roars, and it¡¯s so outside his usual scope of self- expression that I¡¯m beyond shocked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I did it. But why did you have to pick him and not me? What the fuck, Marnye?¡± Creed grabs the back of my head and kisses me with so much heat and want that my head spins. This Fould all be a trap. For all I know, Valentina or Ileana is hiding around the Forner and filming us.


    My body moves of its own ord, rocking against Creed¡¯sp while our kissing reaches a crescendo. He shudders underneath me, groaning, his muscles going taut, hips bucking up towards mine. It takes me a moment to realize what just happened, and then I¡¯m rearing back, cheeks flushed, mouth tingling.


    ¡°Did you just ¡­¡±


    ¡°You were grinding on my bare crotch,¡± Creed whispers back, eyes closed, breathing in heavy pants. His right hand sweeps down my back to cup my ass, and I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s looking to see what¡¯s under my swimsuit ¡­


    I jerk back, scrambling to the opposite side of the hot tub.


    That¡¯s about when Miranda, Andrew ¡­ Zack and Windsor all appear. ¡°Oh.¡± Windsor says, sounding far too perky for the amount of tension in


    the room. I have no idea what I look like, but I catch Zack¡¯s dark gaze, and I


    see the fury there. He looks like he might kill Creed. ¡°Have we interrupted something? You¡¯ve most definitely had sex now, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I blurt, but I suppose it was as close to sex as I¡¯ve ever gotten ¡­ ¡°No, we ¡­ no.¡±


    Miranda looks like she wants to puke. I¡¯m a little surprised considering I thought she wanted me and Creed to be friends again.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go,¡± Zack says, turning and striding off, his towel thrown over his muscr shoulders, his shorts riding low on his hips. I can¡¯t look at Creed, and Windsor¡¯s satisfied smirk is infuriating, so I stand up and climb out of the hot tub, snatching my towel as I pass Andrew. He just looks embarrassed, and confused. Guess I would be, too, if I thought my friend was out for revenge and ended up making her tormenter orgasm in a hot tub.


    ¡°Zack, wait,¡± I call out, padding after him, cheeks red, body flushed. He makes it outside before I grab hold of his arm and get him to whirl on me.


    ¡°Did you just screw him?¡± he shouts, but I¡¯m shaking my head and then covering my face with my hands. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t believe in these stupid Infinity Club bets? I get what you¡¯re trying to do, but to go so far? To fuck a guy you hate? How could you, Marnye?¡±


    ¡°He ¡­ we were just kissing, and he ¡­¡± I have no idea what to say, and I end up dropping my arms by my sides. Zack just stares at me and swallows hard. When he kisses me, I let him. I let him sweep my wet body up against his, and I love being in his arms so much that I¡¯m ¡­ confused.


    Did I cheat on Zack with Creed? Or am I cheating on Creed with Zack? Did I cheat on either of them when I kissed Tristan? Oh god. I¡¯m not a cheater. I hate cheaters. Jennifer is a cheater. I can¡¯t be.


    ¡°How are you going to Fhoose?¡±


    Miranda asked me that questionst year. I hated it then. I hate it even more now.


    I push Zack away from me, wrap my towel around my shoulders,


    and run all the way back to my dorm.

 144

    ¡°Whatever you did,¡± Miranda says, as I eat my food as fast as I can. I just want to finish my meal and get out of The Mess before Tristan, Zayd, Creed, Zack, or Windsor shows up. Is that too much to ask? ¡°Creed is now obsessed with you.¡± I choke on a cherry tomato, but I can¡¯t ignore the slight usation in her words.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask, and she sighs, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her palms.


    ¡°You must be up to something. There¡¯s no way you¡¯d forgive my brother quite so easily.¡± I stab another piece of lettuce and bring it to my lips. ¡°I believe you when you say you didn¡¯t sleep with him, but whatever happened


    ¡­ I don¡¯t think you even understood it. Are you sure you know what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°I told you,¡± I whisper, keeping my voice low. There are other students eating in the restaurant with us, but they¡¯re all Plebs. We¡¯re rtively safe, but I don¡¯t doubt any overheard conversation will make it back to Harper. ¡°He just ¡­ Fame.¡± Miranda wrinkles her nose and looks at me in horror.


    ¡°Please stop saying that. It¡¯s so freaking gross. That¡¯s my brother. My twin. I don¡¯t want to hear about his ¡­ eww. Just no.¡± She sighs and sits up straight, pausing as the door opens and ¡­ Zack walks in. Oh fantastic. He spots me right away and makes a beeline straight for this table. Would it be wrong if I just got up and ran?


    He sits down next to me, and awkward silence descends.


    ¡°Can we have a moment alone?¡± Zack asks, and Miranda rolls her eyes. ¡°Yeah, sure. Babe,e find meter and we¡¯ll all watch RuPaul in


    Andrew¡¯s room, okay?¡± I nod, and she takes off. I stare at my sd while I wait for Zack to talk.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± he asks, and my head jerks up and around. My brows are crinkled, and I¡¯m so beyond confused I don¡¯t quite know what to say.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you mad at me?¡± I ask, and he sighs, jaw clenching as he looks away. ¡°I ¡­ did that with Creed, and ¡­¡±


    ¡°I already told you, we can¡¯t be together. I don¡¯t fucking deserve you, Marnye. It was wrong of me to react like that. I know there¡¯s no future for us.¡± My heart drops, and I want to scream. There Fould be a future for us, you idiot! Fight for me. But at the same time, I feel like a cheater who doesn¡¯t deserve Zack. I feel like my mom.


    ¡°I cheated on you,¡± I choke, and he spins to face me with his eyes wide. ¡°Cheated? You can¡¯t cheat on someone you¡¯re not with.¡± He stares at me


    with so much longing that my heart begins to pound, and I feel like I might pass out. Things only get worse when the Idol boys stroll into the room and spot us there in the corner.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Tristan¡¯s nostrils re at the sight of Zack, Creed immediately makes his way over to me, and Zayd gives a cute, little wave.


    Crap. Crap, crap, crap.


    I shoot up from my chair, heart pounding, as Creed puts an arm on either side of me and pins me to the wall.


    ¡°Avoiding me won¡¯t do you any good,¡± he says, and I think I forget my own name for a minute there.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t avoiding you,¡± I whisper, wondering how much he¡¯s told Tristan and Zayd. The other two look a bit confused, to be honest. ¡°I just ¡­ I have a lot going on, okay?¡± Creed narrows his eyes on me and then nces at Zack like he¡¯s garbage.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you get lost, so Marnye and I can talk?¡±


    ¡°Marnye, and I were talking, so how about you fuck all the way off?¡± Zack snarls. Tristan pretends like he doesn¡¯t give a shit and heads straight for the Idols¡¯ table. He is engaged, after all, and I make a mental note to push harder with him. April is alreadying to a close, and what have I aplished this month besides ¡­ spending time in a hot tub with Creed.


    Putting my palm on Creed¡¯s chest, I push him back a step and move away from the two guys. Zayd watches me carefully, tucking his inked fingers in his front pockets. He¡¯s clearly interested in whatever¡¯s happening between us.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± he asks as Creed and Zack look at each other like they mighte to blows. As if my day isn¡¯t shitty enough, Windsor chooses that moment to walk in. He makes his way right over, grabs me by the arm, and levels one of those fantastic grins of his at the other boys.


    ¡°Do you mind if I borrow Marnye here for a moment? Mentoring duties and all that.¡± He drags me away, and I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as I get out of the room, bending over and putting my palms on my knees for support. Windsor rubs my back in gentle swirling motions. ¡°There, there. I know what it¡¯s like to juggle several girlfriends at once. I recognize the panic on your face.¡±


    ¡°Do notpare me to you,¡± I whisper, forcing myself to stand up. ¡°I do not have multiple boyfriends. I¡¯m just ¡­ juggling my own interests against


    ¡­ other things.¡± Windsor stares at me for a long moment, hazel eyes mischievous.


    ¡°Other things?¡± he asks coyly, and I can just feel the truth resting on the back of my tongue. What it is about him that makes me want to spill the beans, I¡¯m not sure. It¡¯s infuriating, to be quite honest. ¡°You mean like this mysterious bit of revenge you won¡¯t talk about?¡±


    ¡°Look, I ¡­¡± I look at Windsor, and I just feel so full of emotion, I want to choke. ¡°I need to get the Idols to go to the graduation getaway with me.¡± That¡¯s all I have to say, and then it clicks in his mind. I can see the second that it happens. ¡°They bet they could make me fall in love, so ¡­¡± It sounds pretty freakingmeing out of my mouth right then.

 145

    ¡°I see,¡± Windsor drawls, tapping at his chin, like all the pieces are falling together. ¡°You¡¯re throwing yourself at those idiots to win a bet?¡± I nod, and I feel ashamed. I don¡¯t feel like a badass, revenge seeking missile anymore. I feel like Marnye Reed, a girl who¡¯s gotten herself in over her head. I actually like Zack. And I like Creed. I like Zayd, too. And Tristan. They¡¯ve been trying to protect me from the girls all year; I can see it now. It doesn¡¯t make their behavior right, but it does make me want to know more. More about them, their feelings, more about what could happen if I spent more time with them.


    ¡°I need to make them fall in love ¡­¡± I start, and the task feels so monumental that I don¡¯t even know where to begin. I¡¯m running out of time, and my dad¡¯s future is on the line.


    ¡°Oh, love,¡± Windsor says with a chuckle. He pushes his red hair up and off of his forehead. ¡°You know how I¡¯d first guessed you¡¯d fucked?¡± I nod, warily, but I acknowledge him. ¡°I thought that¡¯s what I was sensing, but I was wrong.¡±


    ¡°Right, because I¡¯ve never ¡­ slept with any of them.¡± I¡¯ve only made Creed Fome in a hot tub, I think, and I want to choke and then disappear into a hole in the ground. ¡°So what?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already won, you shagging wanker,¡± Windsor says, shaking his head at me. ¡°If you ask, they¡¯ll go to your party with you. It¡¯s so bloody obvious it¡¯s practically written on the wall.¡± I gape at him, but he seems so damn sure of himself, it¡¯s hard not to ¡­ freak out and feel satisfied at the same time.


    ¡°They don¡¯t love me,¡± I say, and Windsor shrugs, the epaulettes on his jacket wrinkling with the motion.


    ¡°They like you enough that they¡¯ll go. Just ask, Marnye. Take them, crush them, win your bet, and then figure out if forgiveness is something you¡¯re interested in.¡± He frowns briefly. ¡°Although I was looking forward to eating them alive. You will let me help with the rest of your blue-blooded friends however, won¡¯t you?¡±


    I nod, but I¡¯m so speechless, I don¡¯t know what to say.


    Windsor grins, puts his arm around my shoulders, and leads me away from The Mess.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go get you a drink: you could clearly use one.¡± I follow along after him, even though I have no intention of consuming any alcohol. Guess I needn¡¯t have worried: as soon as we get to his dorm room, Windsor makes me a cup of tea with milk and two sugars. And he¡¯s right: after I drink it, everything seems just that much clearer to me.


    It¡¯s a fine bncing act, keeping up with all of my rtionships. And I don¡¯t just mean the ones with the guys, Miranda and Andrew and Lizzie, too. The end of the year academic load is heavy, and I find that I spend most of my time just trying to keep up with my activities, let alone my friendships and my ¡­ other entanglements.


    Creed is the first one I ask, marching right into his apartment after Miranda opens the door, and pausing next to him while he lounges on the couch. My face is bright red, but I¡¯ve got some of my conviction back. Whatever happens with the boyster, they need to learn a lesson now. I¡¯ll take them to the getaway, and I¡¯ll see how they react. After all, I survived it. They can, too.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Go to the graduation getaway as my date?¡± I ask, and Creed nceszily up at me. He¡¯s so beyond gorgeous it¡¯s hard to believe what actually happened between us. ¡°To the party I mean, at the Royal Pointe Lodge. Go with me, officially.¡±


    ¡°Harper won¡¯t like that,¡± Creed says, and I end up scowling. His eyebrows go up in surprise.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what Harper likes. She doesn¡¯t own me. Does she own you?¡± This time, it¡¯s Creed that¡¯s sneering. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, and then nods, once, sharply.


    ¡°Fine then.¡± He pauses. ¡°Wear my dress?¡± I consider that a moment, and then shrug.


    I chose once, and it didn¡¯t feel good. This is sort of the opposite scenario, but I still won¡¯t choose. Either all three Idol guys go with me, or none at all.


    The next day, I make sure to seek Tristan out while he¡¯s separated from Harper, leaning against his locker with one shoulder, eyes closed. He seems surprised to see me when he finally opens them up.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asks, like we didn¡¯t hang out for a week in Paris, or share a kiss in The Mess. I¡¯ve given him back his jewelry, just like he asked. He barely said thank you. I¡¯m starting to wonder if taking Windsor¡¯s advice is a mistake. I feel like Tristan is nowhere near ready to say yes to this. He looks so unapproachably gorgeous that I don¡¯t know what to do.


    ¡°You ¡­ you¡¯re engaged to Harper?¡± I ask, and his brow crinkles, mouth twisting into a scowl. ¡°Even after she tried to drown me?¡±


    ¡°I exined this to you,¡± he says, but there¡¯s this quaver in his voice that reminds me of a trapped animal, looking desperately for escape. ¡°My dad won¡¯t allow anything else.¡±


    ¡°Do you even like her?¡± I ask, and he just stares me down with his cold, silver gaze.


    ¡°I stopped liking her when I found out she beat you.¡± That¡¯s all he says, and the words are cold enough, but the meaning behind them makes my heart flutter.


    ¡°So, can you do me a favor?¡± My heart is racing so fast now, I can feel it in my palms.


    ¡°What?¡± Just that one word. Tristan seems like he¡¯s on edge now, too.


    ¡°Be my date to the party at theke house.¡± He sighs and swipes his palm down his face, like he¡¯s suddenly tired. I move forward and grab the front of his academy jacket, and he free


    zes like he¡¯s been pped.

 146

    ¡°Do you like me, Tristan?¡± I ask, and I realize I¡¯m asking so many questions with that one single sentence. I¡¯m asking him if he¡¯s sorry, if he¡¯s willing to cause a rift in the Bluebloods, if he can prove to me that he knows what the girls did was wrong. In the pool, backstage at the concert, they took things too far. Way, way, way too far.


    He reaches down and takes my hands in his, the warmth of his skin overwhelming me. His peppermint and cinnamon scent surrounds us and he leans in, breathing against my hair. He doesn¡¯t kiss me though, not like I want him to. His hands squeeze mine just a bit harder before he¡¯s pushing them gently away. A slight scowl takes over his lips, but I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s not intended for me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take you to party,¡± he says, his voice so smooth it¡¯s like silk, ¡°but after that ¡­ no more. Marnye, you can¡¯t stay here, and you can¡¯t have me.¡± Tristan pushes me away and turns quickly, moving down the hallway so fast that by the time I decide I want to go after him, he¡¯s disappeared. Even when I peek around the corner, there¡¯s no sign of him.


    My stomach drops, and I can¡¯t decide if that was a victory ¡­ or a defeat.


    Zayd is thest one of the Idols that I seek out. Maybe because I feel like there really was something between us, so his betrayal stings the worst? I don¡¯t know. For whatever reason, he¡¯s pulled away from me even more so


    than Tristan. The texting¡¯s been helping, but whenever I approach him in person, he seems to find a reason to run.


    We¡¯re in the middle of a long text conversation when I find him sunning himself outside on a pic table. Boo is thest thing I send before I poke him in the shoulder and make him jump.


    ¡°You¡¯re running away from me,¡± I say aloud, and he sits up, crossing his legs and raising his pierced brow at me.


    ¡°Um, no? I¡¯m just sitting here,¡± he says, giving me a cocky, stupid little smile that¡¯s one hundred percent fake. ¡°If I were running, Charity, you¡¯d know, because you¡¯d see my tight ass booking it across the field.¡± He grins as I climb up on the table to sit beside him.


    ¡°Do you still have the trophy?¡± I ask, and I swear he chokes on his own spit. He tries to cover up the motion by getting out a cigarette and a lighter, and peering around to check for any staff members before he starts smoking it.


    ¡°Maybe, why?¡± he says softly, and I can feel it, that gap between us widening again.


    ¡°Could you bring it to Royal Pointe?¡± I ask, and he looks at me like I¡¯m a crazy person. ¡°It¡¯d be cathartic for me to have it.¡± I nce up at him from under a fall of rose-gold hair. ¡°Be my date to the party.¡±


    Zayd scoffs.


    ¡°Why would you want to go with me? Charity, really, are you a glutton for punishment?¡± I nce over at him, put my hand on his knee, and then lean forward like I¡¯m going to kiss him. Surprisingly, he pushes me back. ¡°No. No, I¡¯m not doing this.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask, and I feel all those horrible emotions bubbling up inside of me. Zayd sighs and looks away, smoking his cigarette, his sea green hair tousled by the wind. After a moment, he ashes his cig against the side of the table and burning embers crumble to the bench seat below.


    ¡°Because, I don¡¯t understand you. We ¡­ treated you like shit. And then you came back all dolled up and ready to kill. Then the girls ¡­¡± Zayd just stops talking and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he looks at me. ¡°This whole year is for fucking nothing if you go to this party with me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not. It¡¯s your chance to say sorry, if you¡¯re sorry at all.¡±


    Zayd freezes and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. My skirt rides up my thighs as I adjust myself, and he notices right away, taking in myContent is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    garters and thigh-high socks with interest. My finger reaches out and teases around the edge of the Burberry Preparatory Academy crest that¡¯s sewn into the pocket of his jacket.


    ¡°The girls have been after your blood since before winter formalst year, you know that right?¡± Zayd looks over at me, and the stark truth is written all over his face. My hand moves from his pocket to the bit of tattoo I can see on his chest. When I dive my fingers underneath his shirt to touch his skin, he doesn¡¯t stop me. Instead, he reaches up and presses my hand against him. ¡°I can¡¯t just undo everything that¡¯s happened. That¡¯s what going to this party with you would mean.¡±


    ¡°It would mean the world to me, is what it would do,¡± I tell him, and our eyes lock. Tentatively, he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me into hisp. It feels so good to be sitting with him again that for a moment, I just close my eyes and rx into it.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have any business hanging around with an idiot like me,¡± he says, and I can hear it in his voice now, guilt, thick and heavy and weighing him down. ¡°This is a den of wolves, Marnye, and you shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    ¡°And yet I am,¡± I say, thinking of the tattoo on my hip. ¡°Go to the party with me, Zayd.¡±


    After a moment, he sighs and puts his chin on the top of my head.


    ¡°Fine, but shit, this is stupid,¡± he grumbles, growling a little under his breath. ¡°You¡¯re going to get yourself fucking killed, Marnye.¡±


    The scary part about his statement is that ¡­ he¡¯s almost right. Yes!

 147

    The academic battle royale at the end of the year almost kills me. I¡¯m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, and my test scores are so rmingly close to Tristan¡¯s that ites down to just a few assignments. Namely, that poor essay score and test grade he earned himself by messing with me. If he hadn¡¯t done that, he might¡¯ve won.


    ¡°Congrattions, Marnye!¡± Miranda cheers, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a squeeze. Andrew is holding balloons and chocte, while Zack¡¯s got a case of beer and a congrats card, and Windsor spins a freshly delivered pizza on his palm that he snatched from the end of the year pizza party in The Mess. Nobody actually hangs out at the pizza parties: students just jack food and run. The staff doesn¡¯t even mind. Why should they? Today¡¯s thest day of exams, and tomorrow is the officialst day of school and the graduation g.


    None of us will be there however because we¡¯ll all be on a four hour drive to Lake Tahoe, and the Royal Pointe Lakeside Lodge and Guesthouse. It used to belong to the founder of the academy, Lucas Burberry, but was gifted to the school¡¯s foundation after his death. It¡¯s worth over seventy-five million dors, and houses a massive dock that¡¯s be a hangout for the super- rich. Most of the students at Burberry have parents who keep boats there.


    My friends pile into my dorm, and we pass around the pizza, beer, and sodas while a movie that nobody¡¯s watching ys in the background. Vaguely, I wonder where the Idols are right now. The girls have backed off


    quite a bit since the drowning, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s out of charity or because they feel bad. Oh no, I imagine things are about to get way worse for me.


    Windsorys on the bed with his head in myp, and I get these strange tingles all over my body. I know he¡¯s just naturally flirty and touchy-feely, and thest thing I need is another guy to worry about, but there¡¯s something about the prince that makes me feel strange inside. Good strange, too.


    Zack watches us, but he hasn¡¯t said anything since that day in The Mess. Part of me hopes that he¡¯s just biding his time and waiting until after the graduation getaway to make a move. The other part of me is unsure if she wants him to. Because ¡­ what about Creed or Zayd? Tristan ¡­ is a separate source of anxiety all on his own. I¡¯m interested in him, and I have been for a while, but I didn¡¯t want to admit it because one, he¡¯s a total fucking asshole. And two, I can¡¯t decide if he¡¯s going to marry Harper to please his family or run off into the sunset with Lizzie Walton.


    Either way, that doesn¡¯t leave a lot of room for me.


    I push those thoughts aside and try to enjoy myself-and my victory over Tristan because,e on, how great is that? Eventually, we all fall asleep, and I wake up a few hourster tangled up with Andrew, Miranda, and Zack. Windsor is nowhere to be seen, but when I get up to go the bathroom, I notice the door to my room is cracked, and decide to see if he¡¯s outside.


    He is, watching the sune up. I sit beside him, and we just hang out there for a while in silence.


    ¡°You know,¡± he says, ncing over at me. I¡¯m shivering a bit in the cold morning air, so he scoots closer and pulls me into hisp. The movement makes my tummy feel like I¡¯m on a rollercoaster. ¡°I think I might actually like it here. Usually, I stay at a school for however long it takes me to meet and date all of the girls, and then I do whatever I have to do to get kicked out.¡±


    ¡°Sounds pretty lonely to me,¡± I tell him, and he shrugs. I can smell him now, like daffodils, with undertones of ebony wood and blue cedar. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s a cologne, or just his natural scent. Either way, it gives me butterflies.


    ¡°I¡¯lle back here next year,¡± he repeats, and I smile. ¡°I mean, at least for a short while.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± I say, and we continue to admire the sunrise.


    Later, I¡¯ll find out if the Idols are going to actually show up at the party ¡­ or stand me up. My entire future is on the line here, my dad¡¯s health is on the line, and it¡¯s just too much to put my faith into boys who¡¯ve already betrayed me.


    ¡°Windsor,¡± I start, and he nods in acquiescence. ¡°I don¡¯t want to assume things are going to go badly tonight ¡­¡±This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    ¡°But if they do, jump in the pool and give you mouth to mouth?¡± he asks, and I grin.


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±


    ¡°Now that,¡± he deres, before standing me up and lifting me along with him, ¡°was a metaphor.¡±


    There are academy cars arranged to take students to theke, but now that the year is over, the gig is up and everyone just wants their cars back. Andrew is so freaking sweet, and lets me drive his Lambo again, even though I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve gotten more than my fair share of justice out of that favor.


    He rides in the back with Windsor while Miranda sits in the passenger seat; Zack takes his own car, and the Idols-who are still car-less-ride with one of the other Bluebloods.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you driving some fancy ass sports car?¡± Miranda asks, turning around to look at the prince. ¡°You¡¯re practically famous for buying and then wrecking the best of the best.¡± Windsor grins, but when I look up at the rearview mirror to see his reflection, a strange shadow crosses his face.


    ¡°Just toozy to drive, I guess,¡± he drawls, but I have a feeling that¡¯s not the whole truth. Today, however, is not the day to press. I have enough crap to deal with already.


    The drive is pleasant, easy, and sort of funny because there¡¯s just this long string of luxury cars working their way through the woods, millions and millions of dors¡¯ worth of steel and leather and rubber.


    We all park in the gravel lot outside the lodge, and carry our bags to the main house. There¡¯s a beach house, too, but second years are not allowed to


    stay in it. That¡¯s a third year privilege. Oddly enough, there¡¯s also this ss box that looks like an elevator called a funicr that goes from the main house all the way down to the beach. It¡¯s sort of like a slow-moving roller coaster with an enclosed car, all on its own miniature railway. Frankly, it blows my mind to see people piling into it, and taking a quick ride down to the shore. But nobody else seems impressed, so I try to keep my cool. P


    easant problems, am I right?

 148

    For the first half of the day, the staff hovers, and Zack, Windsor, Andrew, Miranda, and I entertain ourselves with games-no stakes involved, sorry- and snacks. Once night rolls around, the Infinity Club takes over, and the staff bes mysteriously absent.


    Clearly, the damn Club has fingers in the Burberry Prep admin office, too. Harper and her friends disappear to get changed, and I start to sweat when the Idol boys are nowhere to be seen. They got in a car, that much is for sure,


    but I haven¡¯t seen them since.


    ¡°Rx,¡± Zack whispers as Windsor studies my face. Miranda and Andrew have gone to their rooms to change, too, so we have a moment to talk freely. ¡°They¡¯ll be here.¡±


    ¡°They better be,¡± I mumble, and Windsor and I exchange a look. While I¡¯m distracted cleaning up the card game, he disappears like he always does, but I tell myself not to worry. He was there at the pool when I needed him, and he promised he¡¯d be here tonight. Whatever needs doing, Windsor York will get it done.


    When Harper and her entouragee down the stairs in glittering gowns with full hair and makeup, I take that opportunity to switch into my own outfit: a rose-gold corset and short, voluminous skirt to match my hair. Paired with some ck heels, it¡¯s a pretty damn cute outfit. I spent far more on it than I should have, but I wanted to look the part.


    I wanted to look like a winner.


    Heading back into the huge open lodge room near the balcony, I find Harper du Pont waiting for me. The main house is over sixteen thousand square feet, so it¡¯s pretty easy to get lost. Maybe she thinks I¡¯ll run off and try to duck out on our bet?


    ¡°So?¡± she asks as my heels click across the floor, and Ie to stand in front of her, holding my clutch like a shield in front of my body. ¡°Where are they?¡± My eyes scan the room and find Zack in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall to watch and wait. Miranda and


    Andrew are on the back patio, sitting around one of the fire pits with drinks in their hands. They don¡¯t know about the bet, so they¡¯repletely unaware of the tension building just inside the sliding ss doors.


    The rest of the Bluebloods lounge on sofas and chairs in the room, watching me. They remind me of a vampire n or something, pretty but dangerous. Elegant on the outside, blood-sucking demons underneath. My eyes narrow as Harper starts to pace around me.


    Music begins to pour from the speakers, and the room fills with a huge crowd. There are second years, third years, and fourth years all mixed together. Doesn¡¯t matter: they all know where the drama and action will be, and that¡¯s wherever the Idols and their Inner Circle are.


    Minutes tick past, and I sit down to wait. Almost an hour in, I start to get worried. I¡¯m texting the guys, but getting no responses, and Harper is beginning to get impatient.


    ¡°You have until fifteen after,¡± she snaps at me, putting her hands on either one of the chair¡¯s armrests and leaning in so close that I can smell her signature peach and vani scent. My stomach turns over with nausea, and Zackes to stand beside me. ¡°Fuck off, Brooks. This is Club business; you can¡¯t do shit.¡± He growls at her, but he doesn¡¯t move from his spot, nking me like a bodyguard.


    By this point, Miranda and Andrew have figured out that something¡¯s up. ¡°You did what?!¡± Miranda snaps at me when I tell her, and I cringe. ¡°I


    mean, it¡¯s half brilliant and halfpletely and utterly insane.¡± She digs her own phone out, and starts to blow up Creed¡¯s. ¡°There¡¯s no reason he shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± she mutters, exhaling sharply. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t do something like that.¡±


    By this point, news of the bet is spreading like wildfire. Everyone knows.


    And they¡¯re allughing at me.


    It takes the Idols until an hour and a half after the party¡¯s supposed to have started to show up.


    I shoot up from my chair as the three of them walk in, still dressed in their school uniforms.


    Zayd is the first to spot me, and he makes his way right over.


    ¡°Car trouble,¡± he says, and then he¡¯s scowling as Greg Van Horn walks in behind him. He¡¯s whistling and spinning his keys around on his finger, and that¡¯s when I start to wonder if the guys were supposed to get here at all.


    Harper looks pissed. ¡°Let me rify: car trouble and phone trouble. Somebody stole our fucking phones.¡±


    ¡°Must¡¯ve been a senior prank again, don¡¯t you think, Harper?¡± Tristan asks,ing to stand right in front of her. ¡°What the fuck is this all about? Clearly, you didn¡¯t want us to show up tonight.¡± She shrugs her shoulders like she doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about.


    I nce back at Creed as hees to stand beside me, his eyes taking in the crowded room and the eagerly glinting eyes of the Bluebloods and Plebs alike.


    ¡°Marnye?¡± he drawls, his devil-may-care voice sending chills down my spine.


    Harper decides to take over,ing to stand so close to me that the fabric of our dresses mingles together.


    ¡°So, Marnye, which one of these men is your date for tonight?¡± I nce between the three guys, and then I look her dead in the eye.


    ¡°All three of them,¡± I say, as Tristan turns to look at us, narrowing his eyes before he nces at Creed, and then Zayd. That¡¯s when I notice Zayd¡¯s bag sitting near the door ¡­ and the stupid trophy fromst year resting against it. Moving over to pick it up, I turn to face a suddenly silent room.


    ¡°Well?¡± Harper asks, looking at Tristan quite pointedly. She reaches up with her engagement ring and wiggles her hand around for everyone to see. ¡°Tristan? Is that true? Are you this girl¡¯s date? I mean, she bet you would be. All three of you. She bet she could make you fall in love with her. So tell me: did she seed?¡±


    Clutching the trophy, I feel my heart race as the Idol boys exchange looks. There are no fancy videos or cans of paint or panties to throw, but at least I got them here. At least I did it. That is, if they choose to tell the truth. One lie from one boy could sink me right now.


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Zayd says, nostrils ring. He stands up from his spot on the chair and addresses the room. ¡°I¡¯m here as her date.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± Creed drawls, watching me clutch that trophy with a certain sort of eptance in his blue eyes. Miranda makes a squeaking sound, drawing her brother¡¯s attention. They share one of those silent twin looks, and I exhale sharply.


    I figured ¡­ the Idols would be pissed off.


    Zayd and Creed, at least, don¡¯t seem to be at all.


    ¡°I¡¯m done hurting her,¡± Zayd says, his voice so loud it echoes through the cavernous room. Becky is gaping at him, but he doesn¡¯t seem to give a shit. ¡°Sorry, but I quit the game. I won¡¯t do it anymore. Let Marnye have the trophy and leave her the fuck alone.¡±


    Harper¡¯s jaw clenches as she turns to Tristan.


    ¡°I¡¯m your fiancee,¡± she says carefully, stepping close to him and taking hold of thepels of his wool coat. ¡°And I¡¯ve got William on speed dial. So tell me, Tristan, are you here with me tonight ¡­ or with her?¡± The leader of the Bluebloods looks from Harper to me, his gray eyes burning.


    ¡°You know I¡¯ve never been a faithful boyfriend,¡± Tristan muses absently, tucking his hands into his pockets. ¡°Not to anyone but Lizzie.¡± He looks past Harper and straight at me. ¡°I¡¯m here with Marnye, too. So whatever stupid shit


    you bet her, give it up. You¡¯ve lost.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.

 149

    A slow easy smile works its way across Creed¡¯s face as he steps up beside me and Andrew scrambles desperately to get out of his way. Miranda is still gaping, and Zack is still frowning. Me, I¡¯m just hugging the trophy and trying to figure out if this is a dream. It¡¯s working out well, almost too well. The only thing is ¡­ the Idol boys don¡¯t seem to care that I¡¯m trying to exact revenge on them. It¡¯s like it doesn¡¯t even matter to them at all. Or ¡­ maybe it does matter, but in a different way than I¡¯d expected?


    ¡°You¡¯re joking?¡± Harper scoffs as she nces back at Becky and Ileana before turning to me. ¡°What the fuck did you do? Do you have a magic freaking vagina or something?¡± The crowd murmurs, and I frown.


    ¡°If I had sex with them or not is irrelevant,¡± I snap, clinging to the trophy and feeling like I¡¯ve just aged ten years in five minutes. ¡°They¡¯re here, with me, and that¡¯s that. You have to take care of my dad at your family¡¯s medical center. And sorry, I won¡¯t be groveling at your feet, so you can film it and post in on YouTube.¡± A ripple works its way through the crowd, and I see Creed¡¯s blue eyes widen.


    ¡°You ¡­ made a bet for your father¡¯s cancer treatments?¡± he asks mildly, and I nod.


    ¡°So, you started treating the man, threatened to stop doing it, and then somehow cornered Marnye into a bet you thought you couldn¡¯t lose?¡± Zayd rifies, and he sounds pissed, his rockstar voice rumbling with a slight growl. ¡°Jesus, Harper, you¡¯re even more fucked up than the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t corner her: she came to me,¡± Harper chokes, turning to Tristan. ¡°All I was trying to do was get rid of her. It¡¯s what we¡¯ve been trying to do


    all along.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll have a drink,¡± Tristan says mildly, ignoring his fianceepletely. ¡°Soda for you, Marnye?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, and the crowd parts as Tristan turns and heads over to the drink table. They leave a clear path for him to walk back and hand the cup with its clinking ice cubes over to me.


    ¡°This is ¡­¡± Harper starts, but the crowd¡¯s already moved on. Infinity Club bets happen all the time. They saw a winner chosen, and now they¡¯re over it. The only person who¡¯s still obsessing is Harper du Pont. ¡°She invited all three of you. She thinks you¡¯re in love with her.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we are? Who the fuck are you to judge?¡± Zayd snaps, rising to his feet. He towers over Harper, and I get a small surge of pleasure as she backs up. ¡°Marnye won, Infinity Club rules. Now move on and get over it.¡± He pushes her back with a finger to her shoulder, and she lets out one of her trademark screeches before turning and stomping away.


    For a moment, I just stand there, shaking. And then I take my drink, my trophy, and my emotions, and I race up to my room and m the door.


    Miranda, Zack, and Andrew check on me, but I just need some time to process. I can¡¯t decide if I¡¯m upset that the guys aren¡¯t emotionally wrecked the way I was ¡­ or relieved. And then ¡­ I feel so lost, like I have no idea what to do now.


    After I¡¯ve had some time to process, I dig around in my bags for some sweats, suddenly desperate to change out of this itchy dress, and realize that I¡¯ve left my other bag in the car. Careful to avoid the crowd, I slip out the back door and past the gazebo where Harper and her cronies are drinking andining loudly about me.


    Screw them.


    I head over to the Lamborghini, unlock it, and grab my bag.


    When I turn around, John Hannibal, Gregory Van Horn, and Harper du Pont are waiting for me with most of the other Bluebloods in tow.


    ¡°Get her,¡± Harper says, and I don¡¯t even have time to scream before Greg is mping a hand over my mouth and yanking me against his chest.


    No fuFking way, I think as they drag me across the lot, iling and kicking and wing at Greg¡¯s hand. When John and that new guy, Ben, step in and each grab onto my legs, I know I¡¯m in serious, serious trouble.


    They take me around the back of the house and over to the funicr, shuffling us all inside, and pressing the button that¡¯ll take us down to the beach. Under any other circumstances, I¡¯d be excited to ride in this thing. As of right now, I¡¯m terrified.


    We hit the beach and immediately go for the dock, loading up on one of the boats and heading out to theke. Dozens of other students are already out there, partying on different boats. Harper chooses a spot right in the middle of Lake Tahoe, and has Sai throw the anchor over.


    We¡¯re on the top deck now with nothing but a fewnterns and some white twinkle lights to brighten up the darkness.


    Harper stares down at me, and then smiles.


    ¡°I think ¡­ we should start off the night seeing what a Working Girl can really do,¡± she begins, nodding her chin in Greg¡¯s direction. Hisughter is disturbing and dark as he and the other boys push me down to the deck and pin me with my legs spread wide.


    That¡¯s when it really hits me that this is happening. They¡¯re going to try and rape me.


    I try to scream, but I can barely breathe past Greg¡¯s hand. Immediately, my flight or fight instincts kick in, and I begin to il. But when the boys have trouble holding me down, they just pile on a few more Bluebloods until there are six people holding me hostage.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    John gives over the holding of my leg to Mayleen, and then moves over like he¡¯s nning on kneeling down between my legs.


    That¡¯s when I hear the sputter of a small engine, and the creak of adder before Zack Brooks appears over the edge. He doesn¡¯t hesitate before he throws himself at John, taking the other boy byplete surprise. A fight breaks out, and even with John, Greg, and Ben all attacking him at once, Zack stands his ground.


    Now that there are less people holding me down, I fight even harder, dislodging Mayleen and kicking one of the kerosenenterns. It breaks and then plunges over the edge, fire trailing along the spilled oil. mes begin to


    lick at the side of the boat, and in quick session, the othernterns go up, too.


    The Bluebloods holding me down drag me over to thedder and basically toss me down to the lower deck. I hit with a grunt, just before Ileana grabs me by the hair, and some of the other girls get hold of my arms and legs.

 150

    Even though I¡¯m kicking and screaming, and mes are licking at the side of the boat, nobody notices or cares. Theke is vast, and there are plenty of bonfires on the beach, stereo systems sting music, and screaming teenagers. I¡¯m just a drop in a bucket.


    Another small yacht has pulled up alongside the one we¡¯re on, and the girls drag me over.


    I¡¯m once again manhandled up to the top deck and shoved into a chair, ropes wrapped around my wrists and ankles.


    Harper is panting and looking from me to the other boat where Zack is still fighting with his fists.


    ¡°Keep her here until everyone else shows up,¡± Harper snaps at Becky, and I¡¯m guessing she must have Pleb friends on the way, seeing as almost every Blueblood save Myron Talbot is here. ¡°I¡¯m done with this girl; this shit ends tonight.¡±


    Harper storms over to me, and I spit at her. Her palm quicklyes up and cracks me across the face.


    ¡°What is wrong with you?!¡± I scream back, but like I said, I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s a sociopath or a psychopath or what the hell ever. Tonight, I beat her at her own game. She doesn¡¯t like that. Not one bit.


    ¡°Break her fingers.¡± Harper snaps this order at her cronies, and then leans down to get in my face. ¡°You will never, and I mean never y the harp again. How do you feel about that, you little bitch?¡±


    ¡°How do you feel about my boot up your ass?¡± Zayd says, appearing at the top of thedder. He¡¯s bleeding from the edge of his mouth, but he looks okay otherwise. He¡¯s followed by Tristan, Creed, and Miranda.


    Harper sneers at them as Zayd unties me and pulls me up, dragging us to the opposite side of the boat, so Tristan and Creed can help create a human shield around me. The rest of the Bluebloodse up thedder, creating a divide in the center of the yacht. Zack is thest one up, and he ends up trapped behind them on the opposite side.


    There are mes dancing across the water.


    How that happened, I have no idea. One minute, we were struggling on Harper¡¯s boat, and the next, thentern was being knocked over and kerosene was spilling everywhere. How it got on the actual surface of theke, I don¡¯t know.


    My heart pounds as I clutch my hands to my chest like they¡¯re precious gems. I almost lost my ability to make musiF with the harp ¡­ forever. That, and they ¡­ I can¡¯t think about the almost rape. Not right now. The Idol girls crossed a line not once, not twice, but now three times. The boys are right: they really do want to kill me. The Infinity Club might very well be the death of me for real.


    Tristan¡¯s jaw is clenched tight, his hands white knuckled and curled into fists. He looks at Harper with a re that would scare the shit out of me if I were on the other end. She seems unfazed as she turns her blue gaze on me, pausing briefly to make sure she¡¯s still got a sizable entourage before shees at me again.


    ¡°Whatever you¡¯re thinking about doing right now,¡± Tristan says, his voice as smooth as pure cognac, ¡°don¡¯t.¡± He snaps that word off the end of his tongue, anger palpable in the chiseled lines of his handsome face. They saved me, I think, ncing from Tristan to Zayd¡¯s bloody lip to Creed with his arm around Miranda. Poor Zack is still stuck on the opposite side of the boat, behind a wall of enemy Bluebloods.


    ¡°If you do this,¡± Harper begins, moving forward with her short brown hair


    -courtesy of Windsor York-billowing in the wind. Don¡¯t dish it if you Fan¡¯t take it. Moving back a step, I end up bumping into Zayd. One of his arms goes around me, and I¡¯m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. It¡¯s like with every breath, I waffle between being excited and being terrified. Please don¡¯t touFh me; touFh me more; get away from me; kiss me until I see stars. ¡°Then you¡¯re giving up control of the school. You¡¯re Plebs, all of you.¡±


    Abigail Fanning and Valentina Pitt nk Harper as she moves toward us, the chair with the ropes still attached sitting between their group and ours. When I nce past Harper toward Zack, I can see that he¡¯s bleeding from his fight.


    ¡°If you think we¡¯ll fold that easy,¡± Creed drawls, ncing at me and making my entire body light up with feeling. He¡¯s quivering, too, but he tries to keep it hidden as he tosses some of his angelic hair back from his face. Would this be an inappropriate moment to think about the hot tub? Yeah,


    probably. ¡°Then you clearly haven¡¯t been paying attention. We¡¯ll destroy you.¡±


    Harper¡¯s mouth is as sharp as a de, and her eyes glimmer with rage and hate. She does not like losing-especially not to someone like me. To her credit, she¡¯s managed to pull in most of the Bluebloods to her side. The rest, we won¡¯t know about until we get to shore. What she does have is a trio of boys-Greg, John, and Ben-who will likely be her side¡¯s version of the Idols.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll break up the greatest collection of Bluebloods in the history of Burberry Prep for somemoner? We¡¯re the future rulers of the world. People live and die based on the decisions our families make. Tristan, I¡¯m your fianFee.¡± Harper starts to move forward, and then pauses as thedder creaks, announcing the newest attendee to our little soiree.


    Windsor York, my secret weapon and amazing new friend, appears with a smirk.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, bloody hell.¡± He hauls himself over the edge and then stands up before brushing his palms down the front of his uniform. His hazel eyes take in the scene in one, fell swoop. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m a bitte to the party.¡±


    Without hesitation, he moves over to stand in front of Zayd and offers me his hand. It¡¯s impressive how the mes from the burning boat turn his red hair, crimson. Zayd pulls me back when I reach out for Windsor, and the prince cocks an e


    yebrow before sighing.


    ¡­..

 151

    ¡°Yeah, wayte, asshole.¡± Zayd is pissed, but not at me and not even at Windsor, but at the whole situation. Even though I appreciate the sentiment, I elbow myself from his grip and take up a strong stance of my own. Even though my friends are here, and I appreciate them, I can¡¯t fully trust anyone but myself. ¡°If we hadn¡¯t gotten here when we did ¡­¡± Zayd¡¯s voice trails off, but he has to know that Windsor is most definitely on our side. He was just helping in other ways. That much I do know.


    The prince gives Harper and friends a skeptical look.


    ¡°I disabled the motor on your friends¡¯ boat. I don¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll be showing up tonight.¡± Harper turns almost the same red shade as Windsor¡¯s hair. She¡¯s furious. ¡°And I¡¯m notte.¡± He gives a dramatic eye roll and a wink, that I¡¯d return if I wasn¡¯t so shaken up. ¡°I saw Zack on his way up here, with these idiots trailing behind.¡± He gestures at the Idol boys, and Tristan snarls at him. ¡°My time was better spent elsewhere. Oh.¡± As if it¡¯s


    just urred to him, Windsor snaps his fingers and lifts up the front of his shirt.


    There¡¯s a tattoo there, an infinity tattoo. The entire boat falls silent.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been resisting the Club for a long, long time, but Marnye needs someone on the inside to watch her back, so ¡­ here I am!¡± Windsor lifts his arms for emphasis, ever the showman. ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m an awful, dirty fucking wanker. I don¡¯t have a trust fund, or parents breathing down my neck that control my purse strings: I have nine billion in personal assets to y with.¡± Windsor pauses, resting his head in his hand. ¡°Well, twelve billion in US dors, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m threatened by you?¡± Harper snorts augh. ¡°Some tenth-string prince from a country nobody even knows about?¡±


    ¡°Ennd?¡± Windsor asks, his voice tinted with wry humor. ¡°You do understand where the pilgrims came from, right?¡±


    Harper spins to Tristan, desperate to make headway with someone. Clearly, Windsor isn¡¯t interested in her games. The boy dances to the beat of his own drum, that¡¯s for sure.


    ¡°Last chance, Tristan.¡± Harper is dead serious, but Tristan simply smirks at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to wish you¡¯d never met me,¡± he says, his voice like steel. Zack moves around behind the pack of Bluebloods to stand beside me. I feel sick when I see the blood running down the side of his face; he needs some stitches, pronto. His dark eyes catch on mine, and I shiver. I owe him for taking on Greg, John, and Ben. Three on one, very impressive.


    ¡°Consider that goal aplished,¡± Harper snaps, chucking the expensive ring at her ex-fiance. Tristan catches it no problem, and then turns to me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯ve got one of Dad¡¯s yachts.¡± Tristanes over to stand beside me, cupping the side of my face as the other boys stiffen up. Well, except for Windsor: he justughs and the sound echoes across theke. The King of Burberry Prep then runs his thumb along my lower lip before he sneers at the prince. I use that moment to separate myself from him, giving my heart some distance so my brain can think clearly.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Miranda looks at me, and I¡¯m having a hard time figuring out why she looks half afraid, and half jealous. Jealous of who? Not of me, right? Shees over to stand next to me, pulling away from Creed, and then whispers in my ear.


    ¡°Which one?¡± She takes in the boys with a reserved, sweeping gaze, while Harper and her cronies slowly file off the boat. Nothing more can be aplished here. Next year ¡­ there¡¯s going to be a war.


    I don¡¯t say anything because I¡¯m distracted by Tristan getting up in Windsor¡¯s face.


    ¡°You, go home to Ennd and fuck off; we don¡¯t need you here.¡±


    ¡°And who, precisely, is we?¡± the prince asks, ncing at me with glittering hazel eyes. He cocks a brow as Tristan looks between the two of us and scowls. He straightens up his wool coat and turns his re back on Windsor. ¡°As far as I can see it, Marnye very much needs me.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± Tristan demands, lifting his chin in challenge. I¡¯m not sure that I can ever really trust him, or that he¡¯ll ever really be mine, but ¡­ at least he¡¯s a powerful ally to have against Harper du Pont.


    ¡°Because, we¡¯re dating,¡± Windsor says innocently. I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s trying to buy me time, give me an out, or ¡­ if he really would like to date me. I¡¯ll have to worry about thatter. None of the boys seems particrly happy about it though.


    Tristan just nces at me with his storm-gray eyes, and then turns to head for the boat¡¯sdder. But Harper¡¯s still standing there, waiting. She meets his eyes with a challenge burning in hers, and then turns to me.


    ¡°Enjoy the summer, Marnye. It¡¯s going to be yourst.¡± Harpers turns, and disappears down thedder, just before we hear a boat¡¯s engine start up with a grumble.


    ¡°Did she just threaten my life?¡± I choke out, but why should I be surprised? It wouldn¡¯t be the first time.


    Well shit ¡­ School is out, summer has started, and in the morning, we¡¯re all supposed to head home. I¡¯ll go back to Cruz Bay and Charlie while the boys go ¡­ wherever it is that they go.


    For now, it¡¯s all on hold.


    Come September, all gloves are off. At least, that¡¯s what I think in that moment.


    ¡°Come on, Marnye, I¡¯ve got a boat, too,¡± Miranda says, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the boys. I ignore them all as I walk past and climb down thedder, but they follow after me anyway.


    Second year at Burberry Preparatory Academy was hard as hell. Third year¡¯s goin


    g to be a fucking nightmare.

 152

    When I first get home from the graduation getaway, I copse on the bed in my new room, the harp Zack gifted me sitting against the opposite wall. I close my eyes and I¡¯m out for a good twelve hours. When I wake upter, dry mouthed and in desperate need of water, I decide that I really am going to miss the Train Car. I¡¯m proud of Dad for finding this house for us, and even in its modesty, it¡¯s four times bigger and ten times nicer than the trailer park.


    Still ¡­ change is hard sometimes, even when that change is good. It takes adjustment. And anyway, I can only live in one ce: I have to choose.


    Padding into the kitchen, I squint through the bright sunshine as I dig through the cabs in search of a water ss. They¡¯re all empty, so I move onto the boxes, tossing wads of brown packing paper on the floor. Once I find a cup, I fill it up, drink it all, fill it up again. And then I finally check my phone, scrolling past a text message from Dad letting me know that he¡¯ll be hometer tonight.


    Last night was freaking insane, not to mention dangerous. Terrifying. I shake my head because I¡¯m not ready to think about what might¡¯ve happened. Instead, I focus on the positive. Later, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll have aplete breakdown as the emotions roll over me.


    I did it. I duped the boys. I won the bet. And yet ¡­ they stood by me anyway.


    Thank god I have the summer to figure this all out, I think, just before the doorbell rings.


    In bare feet and a wrinkled party dress, I pad over to open it, expecting a boy-free summer.


    When I open it, there¡¯s not one guy standing on my porch: there are five of them.


    Tristan, Zayd, Creed, Zack, and Windsor.


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t agree on who shoulde over and talk to you,¡± Tristan begins, ncing back at the other four. ¡°So, unfortunately, we all fucking showed up.¡±


    ¡°Talk to me about what?¡± I ask, stepping back into the barren cavern of our new living room. Okay, so I say cavern, but really, it¡¯s a pretty small room. It¡¯s just way bigger than the Train Car. Seeing it filled with five gorgeous men-one of whom is a prince, one of whom is a rockstar, all of whom are rich as sin-it¡¯s a little overwhelming.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    The boys definitely do not move as a unit. Actually, there¡¯s a palpable tension between them that makes me shift ufortably, sloshing water across the floor.


    ¡°We wanted to invite you,¡± Zack says, narrowing his eyes as Windsor immediately notices an old family photo that includes my mom, picking it up and examining it in that way of his.


    ¡°Where?¡± I echo, feeling like I¡¯m thest one to get the joke.


    ¡°Pack your bags,¡± Zayd says with a grin, and I feel this strange pang inside my chest.


    I did it; Ipleted my task and got revenge on the guys. What happens now?


    ¡°Pack my bags ¡­ for what?¡± There I go, echoing questions as I sip my water and try to orient myself to the fact that there are five of the sexiest dudes alive in my living room.


    ¡°We¡¯re taking you to the Hamptons,¡± Creed drawls, draping himself over our ratty old couch. I blink several times to make that statement register, and then nce at my phone as it buzzes. Miranda is texting me in a frenzy, half in excitement and half in rage that her twin¡¯se over here without her.


    ¡°The Hamptons,¡± I say slowly, and this time, it¡¯s not a question.


    The Hamptons is the summer social hot spot for the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep. No, for any blue blood living in America. Lizzie will be there


    with her Coventry Prep friends. Windsor will be there, too, apparently, bringing a bit of English charm to the beach.


    ¡°The Hamptons,¡± he repeats, pping one of my dad¡¯s straw summer hats over my head. ¡°Get packed, mdy, and get ready. Harper is out for blood- and not just yours. That shore is going to be bathed in crimson, either way. Let¡¯s just make sure it¡¯s not ours, shall we?¡±


    I gape at him as he takes off after Zayd, the two of them exploring my house like they own the ce.


    Me, I¡¯m still standing there in a short, rose-gold dress with a red stic cup full of water and clinking ice cubes, pondering my fate.


    Revenge is wicked sweet, but forgiveness is a virtue. Too


    bad I¡¯ve never been holy.


    Share the new girl.


    That won¡¯t be easy, will it?


    Especially not while trying to keep our thrones in the Burberry Prep social scene.


    Marnye is learning to forgive us; the least we can do is protect her.


    Let¡¯s see who can make her fall in love first.


    This time, there¡¯s no bet. This time, it¡¯s just our hearts on the line.


    ***


    Take on the filthy rich girls-and do it with the help of the boys.


    It¡¯s us versus them, and it¡¯s not going to be pretty. The king of the school, a pissed-off narcoleptic, a tattooed rockstar, a varsity football yer, and a prince.


    Five guys to back me up, five boys that give me butterflies.


    They say they¡¯ve changed their ways; it¡¯s time to see if they can keep that promise.


    His gaze is like iFe, but his fingers feel like fire.


    I put my hands up to cover my face, but Tristan reaches over and tugs them down, sharing a private grin with me that I feel my lips suddenly desperate to match. We¡¯re lying on our backs on the bed, panting, when the door opens and Lizzie Walton walks in.


    ¡°Shit, I thought that was locked,¡± Tristan says, sitting up and raking his fingers through his dark hair. It¡¯s not so perfect right now. Instead, it¡¯s all mussed up and as cute as I¡¯ve ever seen it. Well, if yo


    u could ever call Tristan Vanderbilt cute. Sexy, definitely. Tall, dark, and handsome. Sure. But cute?

 153

    Anyway, it¡¯s hard to focus on that because the look on Lizzie¡¯s face is like broken ss. Guilt stabs through me like a knife. I didn¡¯t ask for this though, not any of it.


    ¡°The guests are arriving,¡± she whispers, looking at us, wondering, maybe guessing at what we¡¯ve done. It¡¯s probably torture, though, not knowing. If I¡¯d walked in on her and Tristan in a simr position, I¡¯d lose my mind. It¡¯s not what it looks like though; it¡¯s not what it seems. ¡°William is furious; he¡¯s looking for you.¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s furious,¡± Tristan says with a scowl, swiping his palm down his sweaty face. ¡°I¡¯m not just a bastard anymore; I¡¯m an embarrassment.¡±Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    Lizzie steps into the room and closes the door behind her, putting her back against the wood.


    She locks eyes with Tristan.


    Somewhere downstairs, my other four boyfriends are waiting. It doesn¡¯t feel so strange to say it anymore, boyfriends, plural. It¡¯s almost natural now. Eventually, I¡¯ll have to choose. But today is not that day. Next week isn¡¯t that day. But at the end of next year ¡­ what will happen then? My heart hurts just thinking about it.


    ¡°What?¡± Tristan asks, his entire body going taut, muscles locked and straining.


    Lizzie closes her eyes and then lifts her hand, twisting her engagement ring off her finger. When she opens her eyes again, I can see it: love, want, and desperate need.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen if I tell my parents no,¡± she says, looking down at the ring. ¡°I think they love me enough to get over it, but ¡­ I can¡¯t do it. I can¡¯t marry Marcel.¡±


    I stand up from my side of the bed, swiping my palms down the front of my cream-colored satin dress to get out the wrinkles. Lizzie isn¡¯t looking at me though. No, her attention is all on Tristan. Her amber eyes are bright with determination while Tristan¡¯s are a t, neutral gray. I can¡¯t read him; I can¡¯t read him at all.


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± he asks, standing up and reaching for his shirt. He slips it over his head and looks at her with this strange mixture of frustration and confusion. ¡°My dad¡¯s on the warpath. He doesn¡¯t like you, and he doesn¡¯t like Marnye, and he doesn¡¯t want the entire board of directors for the Infinity Club waltzing into our house to pass judgment.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the Infinity Club right now,¡± she says, and my heart begins to race, echoing the throbbing pulse point I can see beating in her throat. She takes a step forward, but Tristan doesn¡¯t move. ¡°All I care about is you, Tristan. I love you.¡±


    And there it is. The truth. The truth I¡¯ve been dreading since I firstid eyes on Lizzie Walton at that party by theke.


    I shouldn¡¯t be selfish. I should let him go. I should ¡­ I have four other guys that I care about, so why am I standing here feeling like my heart is being ripped out? If I¡¯m already dreading that final moment when I have to make a choice between them, then why not let Tristan go now? Why not let him be with a girl who loves him, a girl who¡¯s been nothing but a loyal


    friend all year? And if he loves her, too, then maybe they were meant to be together.


    ¡°I-¡± I start, drawing both their gazes. I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m about to say. I love you? Or I think you should be with her? Maybe something else entirely? But then the door opens and there¡¯s Windsor York, expression rxed, the very picture of nonchnce.


    He isn¡¯t concerned about this meeting; he doesn¡¯t care.


    ¡°William Vanderbilt¡¯s a clever man, isn¡¯t he?¡± the prince says, his ent crisp and sharp. He steps into the room, dressed in his third-year uniform, and looks between the three of us. I know he senses the tension: Windsor is one smart cookie.


    ¡°How so?¡± Tristan asks, hands shaking. He¡¯s avoiding the confrontation with Lizziepletely. ¡°What has he done now?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s found a woman to pay his Infinity Club dues.¡± Tristan¡¯s face hardens, but Windsor isn¡¯t done. ¡°Not yours though. Just his. He¡¯s already started the rumor that he¡¯s disowning you.¡± Anyone else might think that Tristan takes this news as smooth as could be. Hell, he looks almost bored. But I know better. There¡¯s an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes, the barest clenching of fists.


    ¡°I see.¡± Tristan¡¯s voice is as smooth as cognac, silky and dark and luxe. There¡¯s so much pain hidden by it though. So much pain. Lizzie reaches for his hand, but he steps back and withdraws into himself. Hurt shes across her gaze, but there¡¯s no time to talk about it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve paid it for you,¡± Windsor says, and this time, Tristan can¡¯t hide his surprise. He lifts his gaze up in shock, and stares at the prince. Wind simply tucks his hands into his pockets and smiles. ¡°Whatever my princess wants, she gets. And she doesn¡¯t want you homeless and kicked out of Burberry Prep.¡± The prince saunters into the room, reaches out, and smooths a few wrinkles from Tristan¡¯s shirt with his palm. ¡°He pulled your tuition, too. But you already knew that, right?¡±


    My eyes go wide, and I turn to Tristan in shock.


    ¡°You knew you weren¡¯ting back to Burberry next year, didn¡¯t you?¡± I ask, but he won¡¯t look at me. He¡¯s still too focused on Windsor.


    ¡°I¡¯ve paid that, too.¡± Wind pauses, sighs, and drops his hands back by his sides. ¡°So ¡­ I guess Marnye isn¡¯t the only charity case at the academy, now is she?¡± Windsor smiles, and it¡¯s got that edge to it, the one that feels like a double-edged sword. Like a weapon. Sharp, smooth, deadly. It can protect


    ¡­ but it can also kill. ¡°You can thank meter. For now, we have a Club meeting to attend.¡±


    Windsor turns to me and puts his hands in a prayer position as Tristan turns away, storms off, and ms his bathroom door. Lizzie puts her face in her hand and says nothing.


    ¡°You, mdy, will have to go. Miranda¡¯s waiting outside for you. No non- Club members allowed.¡± He steps forward and pushes some hair off his forehead, making it stick up like it always does. His hazel eyes glitter as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in my rose-gold locks. It¡¯s gotten so much longer now, but I think I might cut it short again. I like it that way; it feels bold.


    ¡°You¡¯ll take care of Zayd, Creed, and Zack for me, right?¡± I ask, not that they really need taking care of but ¡­ it feels like Wind¡¯s my backup, a silent shadow always there to defend me and mine. He makes me feel safe and protected. ¡°You¡¯ve already taken care of Tristan.¡± I pause and nce over at Lizzie, but she still has her head in her hand. When she turns and walks away, I let her go. Clearly, she needs a minute.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of them,¡± Windsor says, and his word is always a promise, so I don¡¯t press any further. Instead, I let him take me in his arms and kiss the corners of my mouth. It¡¯s just a tease, a little taste that leaves me wanting more. ¡°Miranda says she already called your dad, and he said it was fine if she crashed at your ce for a few days.¡±


    ¡°And after that?¡± I ask, because I have no idea how long a real Infinity Club partysts. I¡¯ve seen the junior version, and they¡¯re intense enough as it is.


    ¡°After that ¡­¡± Windsor starts, just as the other three boyse in.


    ¡°Time to skedaddle, babe,¡± Zayd says, swallowing hard, wringing his inked hands. He¡¯s nervous, too. That scares me. I don¡¯t like the Infinity Club or what it stands for. Basically, it¡¯s a bunch of rich bullies betting on who can make the world just a little more miserable for their own enjoyment.


    ¡°There¡¯s a side entrance,¡± Creed says, and although he¡¯s slouchingzily against the doorjamb, there¡¯s a sharpness to him that says he¡¯s ready to fight if necessary. ¡°Through the ballroom. I¡¯ll show you. I had Miranda move your car.¡±


    I nod and move forward, pausing and shivering as Zackys his letterman jacket over my shoulders, and presses a kiss to my cheek. His dark eyes


    move with shadows, and his full mouth is pursed tight. He¡¯s as miserable here as I am.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything I wouldn¡¯t do,¡± I say, ncing out Tristan¡¯s front window to see Harper climbing from her car. I exhale sharply, and turn toward the door to follow Creed.


    ¡°Drive safe, Marnye,¡± Zack says, and I give a little wave for him, Zayd, and Windsor before I leave, snatching my suitcase, and my bookbag from the floor of my room.


    It all feels so dramatic, but ¡­ it¡¯s just another summer for us academy kids.


    Today, we¡¯re plotting intrigue. Last week, we meted out vengeance.


    Tomorrow, we¡¯ll probably go to the beach.


    One year, one choice, one improbable future.


    Who knew that being the new girl would be so damn difficult.

 154

    There are five gorgeous guys in my bedroom.


    The tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. This is insane, I think as I exhale and inadvertently draw every gaze in the room. Frankly, I¡¯m still reeling fromst night. Having five boys invite me to spend summer vacation with them ¡­ priceless. Also, confusing. Heart attack inducing. Squeal worthy.


    Their attention makes me shift ufortably, and Windsor grins.


    ¡°Do you how many girls at Burberry would give their entire family fortune to be in your position right now?¡± he asks, and it takes a lot of effort not to roll my eyes. Then he winks at me and licks his lower lip, and I¡¯m rolling my eyes anyway.


    ¡°And what position, exactly, is it that I¡¯m in?¡± I ask, crossing my arms over my baggy t-shirt. As soon as the guys swarmed my dad¡¯s new little rental home in Grenadine Heights, I changed clothes. My party dress fromst night is now in a stic bag near the front door. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll ever be able to wear it again.


    I shiver.


    Zack notices and his face softens. He¡¯s got three stitches in his forehead, a swollen left eye, and a seriously puffy lower lip. I mean, puffier than normal.


    He¡¯s always had a nice, full mouth ¡­


    ¡°The five hottest, richest guys at the academy, all right here in your


    boudoir,¡± Windsor purrs, standing up from his position in the corner and


    sliding his palms down the front of his short-sleeved, pale blue button-down. ¡°You now get to make the tricky choice of deciding exactly who you¡¯d like to bunk with during the summer.¡±


    ¡°Assuming my dad says I can go,¡± I insert slowly, my eyes catching on Tristan¡¯s gray ones for a moment. He¡¯s not engaged to Harper anymore! Part of me wants to run in the bathroom, close the door, and squeal. The rest of me ¡­ has no idea why he¡¯s even here. Zayd, either, for that matter. Windsor is my friend; Zack has a crush on me. What about Creed?


    I try my best not to look at him because every time I do, I think about the way his eyes looked when he cornered me in The Mess that day. ¡°Avoiding me won¡¯t do you any good.¡± He notices me looking and lightly rests his fingers under his chin.


    ¡°She¡¯ll stay with me, obviously. She can room with Miranda. My sister won¡¯t ept anything less.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Zack snorts as he shakes his head, eyeing the three Idol boys warily. ¡°You can¡¯t make that decision for her.¡± He doesn¡¯t trust them anymore now than he did yesterday. But ¡­ maybe I do? Hell, I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯m not sure about anything at this moment. Well, except for the fact that Dad¡¯s at work. He¡¯s a pretty chill parent, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯d appreciate me inviting all these guys over while he¡¯s not home, particrly when all but one of them have been involved in bullying me.


    Oh, and I¡¯m pretty sure all of them are man-whores, too. Charlie would most certainly not appreciate that part of the equation.


    ¡°No doubt I¡¯ll be alone at my ce,¡± Zayd interjects, his emerald gaze dark with emotion as he eyes me from across the room. There¡¯s this broken sort of tenderness between us that feels even more difficult to traverse than the shit I have to deal with in regards to Tristan or Creed. ¡°And I¡¯ll give you the master upstairs, so you won¡¯t have to see much of me ¡­ unless you want to.¡± His already husky rockstar purr gets a little rougher, a little more strained.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably best you don¡¯te with me,¡± Tristan says, his voice this cold thread of steel. There¡¯s a throbbing sort of anger inside of him that I can see quite inly in the tightness of his shoulders, the ticking muscle in his jaw, the heat in his gray eyes. He keeps it pretty well-contained though. ¡°My father doesn¡¯t know that Harper and I broke up, and I¡¯d rather nobody but me was around when he finds out.¡±


    My heart clenches, and my nostrils re. That sounds like a really, really bad idea to me. I don¡¯t want Tristan to get hit again. If I had my way, I¡¯d follow him around forever to keep his father away. Maybe I should go and stay with him? But only if I might be able to help, not if I¡¯ll make things worse.


    ¡°Why are you even here then?¡± Windsor asks, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at Tristan with an expression that reminds me of a cat stalking a rat. Tristan nces up at him and scowls.


    ¡°We have amon enemy now, don¡¯t we?¡± he snaps, and Windsor raises his red eyebrows.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight: you¡¯re here because of ¡­ Harper?¡± He just stares at Tristan, but the king of the school simply crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing. ¡°You¡¯re not at all interested in that girl over there?¡± Windsor points in my direction, and I flush. ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s what all these other assholes are after: they want Marnye.¡±


    The sound of the back door opening startles me, and I stand up from the edge of the bed just in time for Charlie to appear in the hallway. He sees me and starts to smile ¡­ and then notices the cadre of well-dressed boys in my room.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he starts, brown eyes taking in the guys with surprise, anger, and then disgust. ¡°What are these three doing here?¡± His voice is a hard snap, and I cringe. My dad is ring at the Idols like he¡¯d kill them if he could, snap their necks and toss them onto the driveway for the seagulls. He hazards a wary nce for Zack, too, and then looks at Windsor with confusion before turning back to me.


    I open my mouth, but no words wille out.


    A loud knock interrupts us all, and the sound of a door being thrown open is followed by Miranda¡¯s voice calling out.


    ¡°Marnye?¡±


    ¡°In here,¡± I reply, holding my breath until she rounds the corner to my room, face flushed, floral skirt flying. Miranda has her phone clutched in one hand, a purse strung over the opposite shoulder, and a reser-focused on her twin.


    Creed stares back at her and narrows his ice-blue eyes to slits before she turns away and throws a smile in my dad¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Reed, sorry I¡¯mte.¡± She grins, and I grimace. Her attempted cover-up is a little too peppy and excited. ¡°I love your new home, by the


    way.¡± Dad smiles at her, but he¡¯s still not happy with me, tucking his fingers into his overalls po


    ckets and ncing my way again

 155

    Ch. 155


    155


    ¡°Thank you, Miranda. But Marnye still needs to answer my question.¡±


    Wow. This is literally the most strict I¡¯ve ever seen Charlie Reed in my life, and just before I turn seventeen, too. My heart skips a beat, and I nce at Windsor as I consider what, exactly, I should say to get out of trouble. Without having to lie, that is. I raise an eyebrow at the prince, and he raises one back at me. Something about him makes me want to tell the truth, and it just tumbles out.


    ¡°My friends are here to invite me to the Hamptons,¡± I say, and there¡¯s something surreal about that phrase. We¡¯re in California currently. The Hamptons are on the opposite side of the country, in the northeast. That means packing, a ne ride, a ce to stay, parental supervision. Err, at least some pretend parental supervision.


    ¡°The Hamptons?¡± Charlie asks, and then he narrows his eyes slightly as he tries to think about where that is. ¡°You mean in New York?¡±


    ¡°Sir, if I may,¡± Windsor says, stepping forward and stealing the show yet again. It¡¯s sort of a thing he does. ¡°I¡¯m Windsor York. I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve met?¡±


    Charlie raises his eyebrows and gives him a look that very clearly says he¡¯s not buying what the prince is selling.


    ¡°I¡¯m the president of the host club, to which your daughter belongs.¡± ¡°Host club?¡± Charlie asks, and pretty much everyone in the room groans.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Wow. Windsor¡¯s making a joke about a very specific Japanese anime show called Ouran High SFhool Host Club. There¡¯s a main female character surrounded by guys ¡­ basically a reverse harem sort of situation.


    ¡°A host club ¡­ is a group of students who mentor other students,¡± I exin, which is true, but also sort of ¡­ not. More urately, it¡¯s a group of people who are paid to be attentive and talkative with their clients, or even possibly paid to date, cuddle, or kiss. Not exactly prostitutes because there¡¯s no sex involved, but simr. I don¡¯t confirm or deny if Windsor¡¯s telling the truth and forge on. ¡°They all want me toe to the Hamptons this summer.¡± I pause and point at my bestie. Creed was right, I suppose. ¡°I¡¯d be staying with Miranda.¡±


    She grins, squeals, and then throws her arms around me in a huge hug. ¡°Marnye,¡± Charlie continues as he meets my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s not the


    problem. What are these three doing here? I don¡¯t want them in my house.¡±


    He looks up and meets Zack¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want him here either.¡± ¡°They¡¯re trying to make up for what they did,¡± I blurt, and as soon as the


    words leave my mouth, I know they¡¯re true.


    ¡°That may be so,¡± Dad sighs, ¡°but I¡¯m sorry, the four of you need to leave.¡± There¡¯s a tension in the room that¡¯s making my stomach hurt. Somehow, the idea of my dad hating these guys bothers me even though it shouldn¡¯t. I mean, I¡¯m thrilled that he¡¯s standing up for me, that he loves me enough to care, but ¡­


    ¡°Please let me go to the Hamptons.¡± The words fall out in a blur as Zack, Tristan, Creed, and Zayd rise from their respective seats and pause. I¡¯m not even sure why I¡¯m begging. Do I really want to go, knowing that Harper and her cronies will be there? Besides, Dad is sick, and I should stay ¡­ but what if I went for a weekend, a week at most?


    Clearly, there¡¯s trouble with the Infinity Club, and with the girls. What if I could get that sorted out during the summer and start fresh? Bullshit, Marnye, my brain interrupts. You just want to spend time with them. With all of them.


    ¡°I¡¯d be staying with Kathleen and Miranda,¡± I continue, and Dad¡¯s gaze swings right to Creed. The boy¡¯s shoulders stiffen, but thankfully, he keeps his cavalier little mouth closed.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the Cabot boy one of your bullies?¡± Charlie asks, looking at Creed with such a pained expression that my hurt hearts for them both. ¡°Why?¡± he says suddenly, turning from Creed to Zayd to Tristan, and then swinging over to Zack. ¡°Why my little girl, my heart?¡± Dad¡¯s face tightens up with such a strong mix of anger and sadness that I take a step toward him. ¡°Marnye¡¯s had a hard life, with my idiot ass getting drunk, and her mother


    ¡­¡± Charlie exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them again. ¡°Why did you have to pick her, of all people? What did she do to deserve your hatred?¡±


    ¡°Sir.¡± The first person to speak up is Creed, surprising me. Dad nces his way warily, meeting those ice-blue eyes dead-on. ¡°There¡¯s no excuse for what we did. We picked on Marnye because she was poor.¡± Dad bristles, but Creed carries on as if he doesn¡¯t notice. ¡°We thought she was an easy target; she¡¯s not. Mr. Reed, your daughter is strong.¡±


    Creed pauses and exhales, slouching slightly, like that speech took a lot out of him. My skin turns a bright red, and my palms sweat, but I¡¯m not really sure what to say. ncing over, I find Miranda with this tender


    expression on her face as she gazes at her twin. She said she thought Creed was redeemable; maybe she was right?


    ¡°Pretty words, son,¡± Charlie says, reaching up to rub at his forehead. ¡°But I can¡¯t for the life of me figure out why you¡¯d alle here and invite my daughter on a trip if it wasn¡¯t for some sort of prank.¡±


    ¡°I can assure you,¡± Tristan interrupts, his voice that authoritative steel that works on everyone ¡­ except for Charlie. Dad does not look he¡¯s going to be convinced by anything Tristan has to say. ¡°That there are other reasons.¡±


    ¡°Like?¡± Dad begins, and Windsor grins. Zack looks frustrated, and Zayd won¡¯t look at my dad for shit. He¡¯s clearly ashamed to be sitting here right now. Our eyes meet, and I have this desperate need to just sit down and talk with him. For hours. Maybe days.


    I need to go to the Hamptons.


    ¡°Like, we¡¯re all crushing-¡± Windsor starts, and I step forward, elbowing him hard in the side. Dad, however, has heard, and now he looks just as terrified as before, if not more so.


    ¡°Call Kathleen Cabot,¡± I say, ncing back at Miranda, and she nods, a small smile lighting on her lips. I turn back to Dad. ¡°Call Kathleen, and she¡¯ll tell you. I¡¯ll be st


    aying with her and Miranda.¡±

 156

    Charlie looks so skeptical right now, like he wouldn¡¯t agree to this arrangement if you paid him.


    ¡°We¡¯ll only be there for a week,¡± Miranda adds, stepping forward to hook her arm through mine. Creed notices, narrows his eyes, and huffs as he looks away. Huh. Okay. I refocus my attention on Dad. ¡°My mom and I, we¡¯ll take good care of her, I promise. And we won¡¯t let Creed bother her ever again, I swear it to you.¡± Charlie frowns and reaches up to rub at the back of his head.


    ¡°I could call Kathleen, I suppose,¡± he starts, looking over at me. I lift my chin and meet his gaze. Don¡¯t worry about me, Dad, I think, but my heart is breaking as I think about his words. ¡°My little girl, my heart.¡± It never urred to me how much my being bullied must¡¯ve affected him, too. ¡°I¡¯ll check in with her and see,¡± he says, but he doesn¡¯t sound convinced. ¡°Now, if the four of you could leave, I¡¯d appreciate it.¡±


    He heads for the door, and stands aside while Tristan, Zayd, Creed, and Zack file out.


    Miranda, Windsor, and I wait until we hear the front door close behind them, and then the rumble of Charlie¡¯s voice as he greets Mrs. Cabot over


    the phone.


    ¡°My mom once convinced a Japanese businessman who didn¡¯t speak English to invest in herpany during their first meeting.¡± Miranda nces over at me with a grin. ¡°If anyone can get you a ticket to spend the summer with us, it¡¯s her.¡±


    ¡°If not, I can always make a royal decree,¡± Wind jokes, and I roll my eyes again. I do that a lot when he¡¯s around, but mostly it¡¯s out of a burgeoning sense of affection. He¡¯s bing a good friend. ¡°Of course, you Americans don¡¯t have a lick of respect for authority, so I doubt that would work.¡±


    ¡°Here we go with the Americanments again,¡± I mumble as Windsor makes himselffortable on my bed, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at my ceiling. He even kicks his boots off like he ns on staying a while. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in Ennd for the summer anyway?¡±


    ¡°Says who?¡± Windsor asks as Miranda takes in my bedroom with awe. It¡¯s the first time she¡¯s ever been over to my house, and I like it. I¡¯ve never had a girlfriend to do sleepovers or anything with before. While I was never bullied in elementary school the way I was in middle or high school, I¡¯ve always had trouble making friends. Until now, that is. Anyway, if Miranda¡¯s sticking around for a while, I¡¯d love to show her the Train Car.


    ¡°You did, likest week,¡± Miranda says, pushing his feet off the end of the bed and taking the vacated spot.


    ¡°Oh, did I? I lied.¡± Windsor yawns and we all pause as we hear Charlieugh from the direction of the living room. ¡°I¡¯ve decided I can¡¯t possibly miss out on the action this summer.¡± He rolls to his side, props his head on his hand, and looks at me from glittering hazel eyes. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s going to be a lot of mating rituals around Marnye that I want to see.¡±Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Mating rituals?¡± I choke out, and heughs, reaching up to ruffle his crimson hair.


    ¡°You have so many beautiful men lusting after you. There will be posturing, gestures,e-ons. I can¡¯t let that happen without throwing my hat in the ring, too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous,¡± I snort, but my heart is racing a little, and I decide there¡¯s something weirdly intimate about Windsor York lying on my bed. All of a sudden, I just sort of want him off of it and out the door. I want-no, I need-to gossip with Miranda about all of this. ¡°You already said you weren¡¯t interested in dating me.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Windsor sits up and his jacket falls enticingly over one shoulder, revealing the white tank he¡¯s wearing underneath. ¡°I never. I would never. I merely observed that you weren¡¯t interested in dating me. That, and I warned it would be short-lived, but beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Wow, how romantic,¡± Miranda spits, giving him a death re. ¡°Remind me to seek your advice next time I want to ask a girl out. Hey, I don¡¯t n on dating you for long, but want to try it anyway?¡± She rolls her eyes, and I grin. I¡¯m pretty sure Windsor¡¯s joking.


    At least ¡­ I think he is? He is, right?


    Our conversation is momentarily paused when Charlie walks back in the room, tapping his cell against the palm of one hand. The way he looks at me in that moment, it¡¯s like he¡¯s scared for me, but he knows he can¡¯t hold me back. I feel a surge of sadnesse over me, followed immediately by excitement mixed with anxiety.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says, and my brows go up, ¡°you can go with Miranda, but Kathleen is in charge of you the whole time. If I get one whiff of trouble out there, I¡¯lle and get you myself. Oh, and if those boys so much as utter one rude word in your direction ¡­¡± Dad trails off, but I smile and move over to give him a huge hug which he returns.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be gone too long,¡± I whisper, ¡°and then I¡¯ll be back so we can go to theke together.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Marnye-bear,¡± he says, giving me a kiss on the head. But I notice that his eyes fall on Windsor ¡­ and narrow. ¡°I¡¯m going to go take a shower. Just ¡­ if Miranda goes, then leave the door open, okay?¡± He lets go of me and turns to head toward the bathroom while I look between his retreating back ¡­ and Windsor¡¯s smiling face.


    ¡°Yes, please do, leave the door open,¡± Windsor purrs, and I grab my hairbrush from the vanity, and chuck it at him. He catches it in one hand andughs, while Miranda and I exchange a look.


    Oh yeah, we¡¯re in need of some serious girl time.


    Especially since I¡¯m pretty sure my boy-free summer has just turned


    into a boy-centric one.

 157

    One weekter, and I¡¯m on a ne, sitting in business ss again and trying not to be nervous about this trip. Part of me wonders if I¡¯m going to have the time of my life ¡­ or experience a nightmare I can¡¯t undo. When I close my eyes, I see Greg and John and Ben. I see Harper ordering them to rape me. Bile rises in my throat and I open my eyes quickly, just in time to order a soda from the flight attendant.


    I¡¯m all alone on this flight-the others all left days ago. But that¡¯s okay. It feels good to have a moment all to myself to think.


    What, exactly, is my rtionship with the guys?


    Windsor ¡­ is a friend. Right? And Zack is a ¡­ crush? Do I want him to be a crush?


    I¡¯m pretty sure Creed thinks I¡¯m somehow his after what happened in the hot tub (idiot). Zayd is so ashamed he can barely look at me. And Tristan is


    ¡­ well, he¡¯s Tristan.


    Groaning, I down my soda like the guy two seats up and one over is downing tiny bottles of rum. When I went to the bathroomst, I saw he had like seven on his tray. Guess first-ss customers really do get away with whatever they want?


    There¡¯s a button that turns my seat into a bed, so as soon as the flight attendant collects my cup, I press it, and then curl up to take a nap.


    When I arrive, there¡¯s a limo waiting for me.


    The Cabots live in an almost disturbingly huge mansion, right on the edge of the beach. My room leads out onto a deck with stairs that go right down to the yard, and from there, it¡¯s just a short walk to the sandy shore. Even though I grew up in Cruz Bay, and the beach has always been a short drive away, it¡¯s no less impressive. I just have to keep reminding myself that this is the Antic Ocean, not the Pacific. It¡¯s pretty surreal, to be honest.


    The house itself is actually quite homey, considering, and I can see Kathleen¡¯s fingerprints all over the ce.


    ¡°I¡¯m so d you¡¯re here,¡± she says, giving me what¡¯s probably the twentieth or thirtieth hug since I got here. I know how bad Kathleen feels about what her son did to me, and I appreciate her genuine want and need to try and make up for that. ¡°And I¡¯m so pleased you girls have be friends. Miranda needs someone around to keep her grounded.¡±


    ¡°Mom,¡± Miranda groans, rolling her blue eyes and giving me an I¡¯m so sorry my mom is Flingy look. ¡°Can you please leave Marnye alone? She didn¡¯te all the way across the country to be molested by you.¡±


    Kathleen sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, her sunny yellow dress billowing in the gentle breeze from outside. Creed pauses beside her and puts my bags on the floor, looking mildly annoyed at his mother. She refused to let the butler-holy crap, they have a butler-do it, and insisted Creed take all my luggage up to my room.


    ¡°You,¡± she says, leveling a dark and disappointed stare on her child. I can see the damage done to Creed and Kathleen¡¯s rtionship from here. It doesn¡¯t make me happy, exactly, but I also don¡¯t feel overly guilty. Creed did this to himself. His own actions brought him down this path. There¡¯s nothing I can do to change it; he has to repair his rtionship with his mom by himself. ¡°Pack your things. You¡¯re going to stay with a friend.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Creed chokes out, blinking confused blue eyes in Kathleen¡¯s direction. ¡°Why?¡±


    She gives him a look, you know the type: a very parental sort of look. Children recognize it by the fear it strikes in their hearts; parents recognize it


    by the smug feeling they get when they cast it. Kathleen smiles, but it¡¯s not a pretty expression. Her curly red hair is tucked up in a severe bun, adding to the image of authority, and her eyes are just as icy and blue as her children¡¯s. ¡°Why do you think, oh genius son of mine?¡± She nods her chin in my direction. ¡°I want Marnye to have a home away from home, and a ce she


    cane and rx in if she needs space.¡±Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s called her bedroom,¡± Creed drawlszily, but I can see his hands curling into fists by his sides. He thought he¡¯d won against the other guys by having me stay here. Looks like he was wrong. I smile and he catches my expression with a raised brow before turning back to his mother. ¡°We¡¯ve made up, Mom. We¡¯re friends now.¡±


    Kathleen doesn¡¯t look convinced. Then again, she doesn¡¯t know about the hot tub-and I hope she never finds out.


    ¡°Get your stuff together. Billy is sending a car to pick you up in a half hour.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m staying with the Kaisers?¡± Creed drawls, narrowing his eyes, and I chuckle.


    ¡°Zayd is there all by himself, and Billy would feel morefortable if he hadpany. He asked if you could stay, and since I was looking into sending you to the B&B anyway, I agreed. I¡¯ll be sending Kyle to keep an eye on the ce as well, so don¡¯t think you won¡¯t have supervision.¡±


    Oh. Kyle, the bodyguard. I¡¯d forgotten about himpletely.


    Creed makes a frustrated sound in his throat, and grits his teeth, but he says nothing, breezing past his mother and up the stairs.


    She mumbles something about needing coffee, and disappears, leaving me alone with Miranda.


    We¡¯re both dressed in sundresses: mine is new, a gift from Kathleen, and it¡¯s the color of the sea at sunset, a byage color pattern that goes from deep blue at the bottom to sandy gold in the middle and then orange and navy at the top. Miranda is outfitted entirely in a pale blue that matches her eyes,plete with yellow daisies.


    ¡°Shall we head down to the beach?¡± she asks, holding out her arm. I grin and take it, and we make the quick walk across the yard, through the trees, and down a series of steps to the beach. There are people there, running and screaming and ying, but it¡¯s not overly crowded.


    We find an empty spot, set up our towels, and crack open the pic basket that Kathleen gave us. It¡¯s full of cold, ss-bottled Cokes, sandwiches, and


    little stic bags filled with cut-up fruit. We¡¯re not seated there ten minutes when I get a ping on my phone.


    On my way to piFk up Creed. How was your flight?


    ¡°It¡¯s Zayd,¡± I say, when I notice Miranda watching me. I suck my lower lip under my teeth before replying. Awesome. On the beaFh with Miranda now.


    There¡¯s a pause before I see him typing a response.


    In my bathing suit. Live in it during the summer. LOL. Can I join you?


    Before I can think too hard about it, I type yes.


    Miranda¡¯s brows are raised when I look back up at her.


    ¡°How are you nning on juggling all of these boys?¡± she asks, and I blink at her.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ¡­ what do you mean ¡®juggling¡¯?¡± Setting my phone aside, I pick at thebel on my Coke and try to ignore the anxious butterflies in my stomach. Doesn¡¯t help much.


    ¡°Um, are you insane?¡± Miranda asks, leaning over to look at me with wide eyes. ¡°They¡¯re all in love with you.¡±


    I rear back and end up spilling soda all over myp.


    ¡°What? No!¡± I choke out, swiping at the crotch of my new dress with a cloth napkin. ¡°No, that¡¯s just- I mean, Windsor isn¡¯t ¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay, think whatever you want,¡± Miranda says with an exaggerated sigh. ¡°But I¡¯m telling you what it looks like as an


    outsider: you have five guys in love with you.¡±

 158

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± I sputter, but then I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump.


    ¡°What¡¯s ridiculous?¡± Creed asks, kneeling in the sand beside me. A shiver travels through me, and all of a sudden, all I can think about is the hot tub. The hot tub. That goddamn hot tub. I flick my eyes his direction and see that he¡¯s studying me carefully.


    ¡°Nothing important,¡± I manage to get out, scooting over so that our bodies aren¡¯t quite so close to touching. There¡¯s too much tension between us, and I¡¯m too confused as to what our rtionship even is. Are we friends? It was literally just over a week ago that I told him he was the subject of a bet. And literally just over a week ago that he stood up for me in front of all his friends ¡­ ¡°Zayd¡¯s going toe down and join us for a little while.¡±


    Creed nods, like he expected that, and then unfolds his long body in the sand, leaning back and lying there in his half-buttoned shirt and shorts. The


    wind tousles the fabric of his shirt, revealing the hard muscles in his lower belly, and the infinity tattoo above his right hip. I have the strongest urge to touch it, and end up sitting on my hand to keep from doing it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re letting Mom send me away,¡± he drawls, like he¡¯s already half-asleep. His eyes are closed now, long, paleshes resting on his cheeks.


    ¡°Oh please,¡± Miranda snorts with an exaggerated eye roll. ¡°You¡¯ll be a ten minute walk away, in a rock star¡¯s mansion, with every possiblefort. Plus, you¡¯ll be shacking up with your bestie, so don¡¯t give me that crap.¡±


    ¡°Zayd is not my bestie,¡± Creed growls, like a sleeping cat who you¡¯ve petted just this side of too long. He won¡¯t swipe at you-toozy and tired for that-but the warning¡¯s there. ¡°We¡¯re barely friends.¡±


    ¡°Right. Just like you and Tristan. You¡¯ve all known each other since forever, but you¡¯re not friends at all.¡±


    ¡°Tristan and I were never friends,¡± Creed snaps, but still he doesn¡¯t get up from his spot in the sun-warmed sand. ¡°Zayd is at least tolerable.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± Zayd says, appearing behind us, and making me jump. Wow. My nerves must be getting to me because I¡¯m the only one that seems so ¡­ excited. My tattooed, pierced little rock star friend squeezes between my towel and Miranda¡¯s, stepping over the pic basket and then turning to face us.


    He¡¯s gloriously shirtless, his ink shimmering in the bright sun. His ck board shorts are slung criminally low on his hips, to the point where I¡¯m actually concerned they might fall to his feet, and I¡¯ll get to see ¡­ I mean have to see, his dick.


    ¡°I like the dress, Marnye,¡± he says, but even though he¡¯s smiling and trying to be yful, there¡¯s an edge to his words, a lick of shame that I both appreciate and wish I could wipe away. ¡°Gorgeous, as usual.¡± Zayd squats down, his muscr legs drawing my attention. His thighs look hard as rocks, and there¡¯s a tattoo on the inside of one that¡¯s drawing my attention.


    I force my gaze back to his face.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper as Miranda scoffs.


    ¡°Wow, make a girl feel ugly, why don¡¯t you?¡± she says, and Zayd tears his attention from me to look at Miranda.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re totally hot, too,¡± he says, forcing a grin. ¡°You just, you know, y for the other team.¡±


    ¡°So a girl¡¯s only worthy of yourpliments if she¡¯s somebody you could possibly have sex with?¡± she asks, raising a blond brow. Zayd¡¯s mouth drops open as she hair flips (yes, it¡¯s still terrible) and then reaches into the basket to offer him a Coke. He takes it, and then lifts it in her direction in salute.


    ¡°Well-said, Miranda. You schooled me.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± I start and then pause, ¡°what do you mean possibly have sex with?¡±


    They both ignore me.


    ¡°So, tonight is pretty chill, but tomorrow there¡¯s a huge bonfire on fairly neutral territory, down the way at Myron¡¯s ce.¡± Zayd sits back in the sand and reaches up to twist some of his sea green hair into little spikes. ¡°Although Harper¡¯s an idiot if she thinks Myron¡¯s loyalty is split; he¡¯s Tristan¡¯s best friend first and foremost.¡±


    ¡°Tristan has a best friend?¡± I ask, blinking stupidly. For some reason, that never really urred to me. I guess I just sort of thought of Creed and Zayd as his besties? Although, considering the conversation we just had, that¡¯s not entirely urate. Myron Talbot is the only one of the Bluebloods-besides the Idol guys, of course-that wasn¡¯t involved in my ¡­ um, kidnapping and attempted rape. The color drains from my face, and I curl my fingers against my chest, thinking about all the horrible things that might¡¯ve happened to me at Lake Tahoe.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Myron, yeah,¡± Zayd says, flicking some sand with a tattooed finger. ¡°He¡¯s a son of a bitch. He barely talks, but he¡¯s always there to carry out Tristan¡¯s dirty work.¡± Zayd turns emerald eyes on me, and my breath catches. I find myself suddenly aching to touch the sides of his face, to pull him close and brush my mouth to his. Instead, I curl my arms around myself and squeeze. ¡°I¡¯m honestly pretty surprised he never sed Myron on you.¡± Zayd exhales and reaches up with sandy fingers to push hair from his forehead.


    ¡°Too vicious,¡± Creed says, eyes still closed. ¡°Myron would¡¯ve been too much for Marnye.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well,¡± I say, feeling irritation creep across my skin like a horde of itchy insects, ¡°it¡¯s nice to know how much nuance there is when ites to bullying. Reading a girl¡¯s private thoughts aloud to a rowdy mob is okay, but Myron Talbot, that¡¯s too much.¡±


    Creed doesn¡¯t acknowledge myment, but Zayd cringes.


    ¡°Myron is ¡­ you¡¯ll seeter.¡± Zayd crosses his legs and leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees.


    ¡°How will I see?¡± I ask, as my heart skips a few beats. Zayd¡¯s eyes are so pretty in the sun, like precious gemstones. And his tattoos ¡­ it¡¯s so damn cool to see them all exposed in the yellow light of afternoon. I thought the guy was handsome in his wrinkled academy uniform. Out here, he¡¯s just ¡­ breathtaking.


    Zayd looks up at me and then nces over at Creed. I follow his stare and find Miranda¡¯s twin with his eyes open, gaze locked on his friend¡¯s face.


    ¡°It¡¯s civil war at Burberry Prep,¡± Zayd says on the end of an exhale, ¡°and it¡¯s us versus the girls. Tristan, for whatever reason, held back on sending Myron after you.¡± He meets my eyes, and I feel my throat get tight. ¡°He


    won¡¯t do the same for Harper.¡±

 159

    The next day, I¡¯m busying sorting through my clothes and trying to decide on an outfit for the party when a knock sounds at my door. Without thinking, I just open it, and there¡¯s Creed, lounging against the wall like he¡¯s just too spoiled and royal to stand up straight.


    He smiles at me, and it¡¯s the most arrogant thing I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. A quote from William Shakespearees to mind: How insolent ofte he is beFome, how proud, how peremptory. Yep, that¡¯s Creed Cabot in a nutshell.


    ¡°Can Ie in?¡± he asks, and I shrug. He pushes up from the wall and saunters in on those long legs of his. I¡¯m so used to seeing him in his academy uniform that it¡¯s almost disconcerting to see him dressed in light colored jeans, a white t-shirt, and flip-flops. Creed makes his way over to the open French doors and steps outside, folding his forearms on the railing. He looks out at the ocean with pale blue eyes, turning his attention to me as I step out beside him.


    We¡¯re alone, in a bedroom, and we¡¯re ¡­ well, we¡¯re not fighting. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to bully me anymore. Maybe I Fan get some truth out of him?


    I open my mouth to ask some of the questions that have been eating at me, but Creed speaks first.


    ¡°About the hot tub,¡± he starts, and I swear to god, I nearly tumble over that railing onto the stupidly greenwn below us. Creed stands up straight


    and turns toward me, putting an arm on either side of me and grabbing onto the railing. I¡¯m now trapped between his arms and staring up into his eyes. Heat rushes through me, consuming every logical thought I¡¯ve ever had. Now, all I can feel is this insistent, foreign throbbing between my thighs, and the way my nipples have peaked to points beneath my sundress. I¡¯m not wearing a bra either, and I feel like he must notice. ¡°I don¡¯t usually finish that fast.¡± He raises his hand to brush hair from my forehead, and then leans in so close that our lips nearly touch.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t concerned about that,¡± I choke out, and heughs, this low, sensual,zy sound, almost a purr. Creed puts his face up against mine, his lips near the top of my ear.


    ¡°Good. There¡¯s just something about you, I guess, that my body responds to ¡­¡± He breathes and my hair flutters in the warmth. Without meaning to, I reach up and put my palms against his chest, and he shudders on the end of a long inhale. ¡°Marnye, you¡¯ve been avoiding me ever since. Now that I know about the bet, it all makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Creed,¡± I start, as he adjusts himself so that he¡¯s looking right into my face. I have literally no idea what¡¯s happening right now, no clue what our rtionship is-or if we even have one at all. Maybe he¡¯s just my ex-bully, and brother to my best friend?


    But no.


    When I look into his eyes, I can see that¡¯s not it at all. There¡¯s something else.


    ¡°You know, after our little make-out session,¡± he starts, moving in and pressing a light kiss to the corner of my mouth, ¡°something changed in me.¡± He kisses me again, and I start to tremble. I¡¯m trapped here, frozen in ce. I couldn¡¯t move if I wanted to.


    And I don¡¯t.


    I don¡¯t want to move.


    ¡°I started to think about you ¡­¡± Creed continues, running his tongue along my lower lip and making me shiver. My body throbs in desperation, and I start wondering what might¡¯ve happened if I hadn¡¯t fled the hot tub, if I¡¯d just let him explore underneath my swimsuit ¡­ ¡°As mine.¡±


    Creed¡¯s words-and his mouth-m into me like a storm, his tongue sliding between my lips, tasting me. His kiss is not aszy as his words. No, he¡¯s kissing me the same way he moves in a fight: fierce, fast, and frenzied. In an instant, I find myself lifted and set on the edge of the balcony railing.


    Creed is so tall that it doesn¡¯t make much difference for him, other than that instead of him leaning over to kiss me, I¡¯m bent slightly at the neck to kiss him.


    My arms are wrapped around his neck now, his body between my thighs. The railing¡¯s a bit high, so our, um, crotches aren¡¯t exactly lined up which is probably a good thing because I wouldn¡¯t want him to finish in his pants ¡­


    A scoffing sound snaps me out of the moment, and I look up to find Tristan Vanderbilt standing in the doorway. He¡¯s watching the two of us with that cold, gray gaze of his, calcting and detached. As I stare at him, my breathing in short, sharp, pants, I notice shadows flickering in his eyes. His jaw tightens as he tucks his fingers into the front pockets of his ck pants and stares at the two of us.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Creed scowls as he pulls me off the railing and sets me on my feet.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking knock?¡± Creed snaps, and I¡¯m just so ¡­ flustered and confused, I do nothing but stand there and stare at the two of them. ¡°Or do you feel like you own the whole world anyway, so why not waltz into somebody else¡¯s house uninvited?¡±


    ¡°Your sister let me in, you useless sloth,¡± Tristan growls back, his raven- dark hair showing off its blue highlights in the sunshine. He takes a step forward, and I stumble away, my back bumping into the railing again. I¡¯m not used to seeing Tristan Vanderbilt in tank tops or shorts or sandals. It¡¯s ¡­ mind-blowing.


    ¡°Mm.¡± The soundes out of Creed in a grunt as he rakes his fingers through his hair. ¡°That wasn¡¯t my real question: why would you think we want you here?¡± He stays where he is, partially in front of me, and ring daggers. Tristan nces down at Creed¡¯s crotch with a cruel smirk, and then turns his attention to me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going back to the academy with the social hierarchy in tatters.¡± Tristan moves up to stand in front of me, too close for propriety¡¯s sake really. My eyes lift to his gray ones. They¡¯re so dark right now, they¡¯re more charcoal than silver. He nces over his shoulder as Creed turns to face us. ¡°And I¡¯m not letting Harper take the throne.¡±


    ¡°What do you suggest we do?¡± Creed grinds out, watching my interaction with Tristan.


    ¡°Take the Bluebloods down, and recreate our own court from scratch.¡± Tristan turns back to look at me, and my breath catches. The two of them are


    talking like they¡¯re rebuilding a medieval court full of knights and royalty and courtiers.


    In a way, I guess, they are.


    ¡°You¡¯re taking down the Bluebloods?¡± I ask, my heart thumping as Tristan studies me carefully, taking in my swollen lips with a long, lingering stare. He raises his gaze back to mine as I wonder how possible it¡¯d be to slip around him and put some distance between us.


    At the Royal Pointe Lodge, he stood up to Harper for me. He broke his engagement. He¡¯s going to get shit from his dad.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you already doing that?¡± he asks, lifting his hands up and curling his fingers around my upper arms. His touch burns me, and I¡¯m already on fire from Creed. This suFks, I think, and then, but it¡¯s also awesome. It feels good, but it hurts, too. ¡°The only difference this time is that you¡¯ll have our help.¡± Tristan¡¯s cruel sh of a mouth twists into a small smile. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve pissed Harper off to homicidal levels, you may as well know the truth.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡± I choke, but then Tristan¡¯s mming his mouth into mine, kissing me so hard and fast that I feelpletely dizzy,ing undone in his tight grip. Each ce he touches me, burns. It burns so hot and bright that I see starbursts behind my eyes, and my knees feel weak. He pulls away so fast that I¡¯m left gasping, and Creed¡¯s right there in front of me, like he may have gone for Tristan if he¡¯d been able to catch him.


    ¡°Get dressed, and we¡¯ll all walk together. We need to provide a united front.¡± Tristan takes off for the door as Creed curses him and flips him off behind his back.


    ¡°Who¡¯s all?¡± Creed drawls, narrowing his eyes as I step forward, trying to still the rapid beating of my heart and figure out what the hell just happened there, or what¡¯s going on with these guys.


    ¡°Me, you, Zayd, Myron, Miranda, Andrew ¡­¡± Tristan starts and then pauses, like the rest of his words are painful. ¡°Zack, Windsor, Lizzie ¡­ and Marnye.¡± He looks back at me, and my eyes go wide.


    Not that I care about any of this, but ¡­ Tristan wants me to walk with the Bluebloods? This is a political statement in a major way.


    Tristan turns away and tucks his fingers into his pockets, heading into the hallway and breezing past Miranda like she doesn¡¯t even exist. No surprise there. That¡¯s how he lives most of his life, ignoring people unless he¡¯s bullying or fucking them. I frown hard, and my nostrils re. My stomach


    twists into strange knots, and I have to close my eyes and breathe through a surge of strange emotions.


    When I open my eyes back up, Tristan has long since disappeared down the stairs and Miranda is looking at me with both brows raised in question.


    ¡°He told you the n?¡± she starts, and I just stare at her.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I reply, my voice tight. Creed moves up to stand beside me, and I swear to god, I can feel his eyes on me. Turning my gaze up to his, I can see his ice blue eyes are dark with lust, like sapphires in a deep, blue sea. ¡°He¡¯s beyond frustrating, isn¡¯t he? Is it any wonder that I hate him so damn much?¡± Creed sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. Over the past two years, we¡¯ve spent a decent amount of time together, but ¡­ none of it felt as real as this. For the first time ever, I feel like maybe I¡¯m seeing a bit of the real


    Creed ¡­ um, Whatever-His-Middle-Name-Is, Cabot.


    ¡°He¡¯s ¡­ a character,¡± I say, but my mind is wandering back to that moment in The Mess, that kiss, the way he grabbed my tie, and all the things I said before that. ¡°Love. It¡¯s possible for someone to love you for you, Tristan. Trust me, I know: I was there.¡±


    My face turns six shades of red, and I move around behind Creed, putting my palms on his back and pushing him right out the door. He¡¯s so surprised, he just lets me move him around. When he turns to look at me, his expression of confusion morphs into one of smug, self-assuredness.


    ¡°Oh, Marnye,¡± he starts, but I¡¯m already mming the door in his face. ¡°Get dressed!¡± I shout out, and then I turn and put my back to the door,


    close my eyes, and sink to the floor.


    It¡¯s going to be a long, hot summer, that much I know for sure.

 160

    I¡¯m thest one to get downstairs, dressed in an outfit I bought for myself when Miranda and I went shopping yesterday. Her eyes glittered when she saw me in, but still, I feel a tad self-conscious ¡­


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Zayd says as Ie down the first curve of the staircase and pause on thending. I feel like Janey Briggs in Not Another Teen Movie, when she makes a slo-mo appearance on the stairs and then falls through them. Yep, that¡¯d be me for sure. I should never have let Miranda make us watFh that damn movie. ¡°Charity, you clean up good.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call her Charity,¡± Zack growls, his brown eyes narrowed as he takes in the rock star with no small amount of distaste.


    ¡°As long as it¡¯s in jest, I don¡¯t mind,¡± I say, continuing down the steps as Miranda and Andrew exchange a knowing look and then smile at me. Creed is lounging on the couch, draped over it like a boneless king. He pretends not to be looking, but I can feel his gaze like it¡¯s made of mes.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Tristan, meanwhile, is standing in the open front door with his back to me, having a low conversation with Myron Talbot. Myron is broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and several inches shorter than Tristan. Despite that, he¡¯s got a lean, muscr build, and a shadowed expression that makes me believe all the things that Zayd said about him.


    Lizzie is standing nearby, her arms crossed over her chest. As soon as she lifts her gaze and sees me, she smiles big and pushes between the two boys.


    ¡°Leather pants? Girl, that ass.¡± Lizzie skips over, throws her arms around me, and gives me a huge hug. She pulls back, her dark curls frothing around her shoulders, her amber eyes sparkling. She¡¯s dressed in denim short-shorts, and a loose yellow tank with big arm holes. Underneath, I can see her ck bikini top.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit out of myfort zone,¡± I hedge, wondering where Windsor is. He¡¯s such a big presence that when he¡¯s not in the room, there¡¯s this noticeable absence. ¡°Do I look okay? I know leather pants and beach parties don¡¯t exactly go ¡­¡±


    ¡°But look at these zippers,¡± Miranda crows, appearing beside me and grabbing the zipper at my hip. Before I can stop her, she¡¯s grabbed it and dragged it halfway down, the leather peeling apart and my entire thigh and left butt cheek showing. All the guys notice.


    I make a choking sound, and snatch it back from her, zipping myself into the leather again.


    ¡°What do you think, Tristan?¡± Miranda asks, turning to look at him as he steps back into the house with Myron on his heels. I elbow her because, like, why is she drawing his attention my way?


    Tristan¡¯s gaze rakes over me, over my white Burberry Prep tank covering my new swimsuit, the leather pants underneath, and the wedge sandals that I¡¯m sure will be the death of me. If I end the night without a twisted ankle, I¡¯ll be shocked. But I want to make an appearance tonight, stand up to Harper and ¡­ A cold chill sweeps over me as yet again, I think about how badly things could¡¯ve gone. This isn¡¯t a game anymore. Maybe it never was?


    ¡°You look nice,¡± Tristan says, and his voice is beyond nd. He may as well be looking at a freshly painted wall or something. My gaze locks on his gray one, and he holds it without shame. There¡¯s a darkness there, behind his eyes, that catches my attention anyway.


    ¡°Nice?¡± a voice calls out, just before Windsor appears from the direction of the kitchen. He has what looks like a strawberry daiquiri in his hand that he presents to me. ¡°You¡¯re a fucking vision, Marnye Reed.¡± He hands the drink over with a bright grin. ¡°A virgin daiquiri for the virgin girl.¡±


    ¡°Jesus,¡± I choke, but I take the drink anyway as Windsor¡¯s hazel eyes sweep me up and down, and he leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek.


    ¡°You¡¯re so rude,¡± Miranda says, hooking her arm through mine as Windsor presents her with a second drink. ¡°But I forgive you since you mixed drinks for everyone.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s one of my passions,¡± Windsor says, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips as he looks me over yet again. He¡¯s dressed in white shorts, a white tank, and ck sandals. His red hair seems even brighter paired with the monochrome outfit. ¡°If I weren¡¯t a royal, I¡¯d have been a bartender. Even Mum agrees.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Zack says with a roll of his eyes. He¡¯s wearing bright red shorts and absolutely no shirt. His hair is wet and slicked back, like maybe he¡¯s already gone swimming today. We look at each other, and my heart skips a few beats. Fight for me, I think as I exhale. But even then, I¡¯m confused.


    I¡¯ve never had crushes on more than one guy at a time. Now ¡­ my heart doesn¡¯t know what to do. I feel pulled in several different directions, and the angst feels like it¡¯s going to kill me already.


    ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re here,¡± Zack says, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. I smile, and when he lets go, I curl my hands around my drink, so I don¡¯t have to feel them tingling. Zayd watches our entire interaction, and then exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, like he¡¯s just made a decision about something. I have no idea what that is because Tristan¡¯s just stepped forward, and without having to say a thing, he¡¯s drawn everyone¡¯s attention his way.


    Well, everyone but Windsor. The prince dances back into the kitchen and appears with more drinks, passing them out to Lizzie and Andrew first, and then grudgingly to Myron, the Idols, and Zack.


    ¡°Harper and the rest of the Bluebloods will be at the party tonight,¡± Tristan says, and I can tell by the way his eyes narrow that he¡¯s thinking about that night at the Royal Pointe lodge. At the end of this year, we¡¯ll have another school-sponsored trip back to that sameke. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath and try not to think too hard about it. ¡°We don¡¯t talk to them, and we don¡¯t acknowledge them.¡±


    ¡°How, exactly, will that help?¡± Windsor inserts as I look around and realize that the people gathered here, don¡¯t have much of a connection. Or if they do, not much of a good one. Lizzie and Tristan are exes with unresolved feelings, Windsor hates the Idols and vice versa, Andrew was kicked out of the Bluebloods, and Zack is an outlier that most of them have hated from day one.


    What a group of misfits we are.


    ¡°They¡¯re dead to us. Everyone needs to know that. The rest, we deal withter.¡± Tristan turns to go, and I grab onto his arm. He pauses and looks


    down at me for a second before threading his arm through mine. I¡¯m sopletely and utterly shocked that my mouth drops open and I nearly let my drink slip from my fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t stray too fa


    r, and I¡¯ll keep you safe.¡±

 161

    Okay, now my mouth is basically on the floor.


    ¡°Who are you and what have you done with Tristan Vanderbilt?¡± I choke out, but all he does is look at me, and then starts to walk, dragging me along with him. We all end up outside, finishing our drinks and leaving the sses on the patio table.


    ¡°Mom and Dad are out dancing. They won¡¯t be back until nearly dawn; I¡¯ll clean these up when we get home.¡± Miranda waves her hand dismissively, and we all take off down the beach with Tristan leading the way.


    ncing back, I see Lizzie watching us, and I feel this tightness in my stomach that I can¡¯t put words to.


    ¡°Does she know you called off your engagement?¡± I whisper, and Tristan goespletely stiff beside me. Holding onto him like this reminds me of our time in France, the way he let me cuddle up to him at Disnend, or how he stopped so suddenly outside the Eiffel Tower and looked at me like he had something important to say.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± he says in that cold, dark voice of his, like a sheet of ice sliding over my heated skin. ¡°I haven¡¯t told her, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    My lips purse. I can feel the others watching us, not just Lizzie but Miranda and Andrew, the other two Idols, Zack, Windsor. Only Myron seems totally uninterested.


    ¡°Are you going to? I bet she¡¯d like to hear it from you.¡±


    ¡°What do you care about my rtionship with Lizzie?¡± Tristan hisses, his voice drowned out by the crash of the ocean waves against the shore, and the distantughter of party guests. My cheeks flush, and I¡¯m not sure how to respond to that. And then-I¡¯m going to me Windsor¡¯s strange honesty gathering capabilities-I just blurt something out.


    ¡°Sometimes, when I look at the two of you, I think you¡¯re still in love with each other.¡± My voice cracks a little, and my heart pounds, but as soon as I say it, I feel a little better. Tristan stops walking, and I think for an instant there that I might get something real out of him.


    But then his face shutters and darkens, and his eyes narrow.


    For a split-second, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve royally pissed him off, but then I turn and spot Harper, Becky, and Ileana on the beach, surrounded by adoring fans. My throat gets tight when I see Greg, John, and that new guy, Ben,


    nearby. Ben was a fourth year, so he shouldn¡¯t have been on the school trip to Lake Tahoe. At the very least, he won¡¯t be at Burberry Prep next year.


    ¡°We have to get Ben before the summer is over.¡± My voicees out thin and reedy and tinged with fear. I don¡¯t like that. I¡¯m not afraid of Ben or John or Greg or anyone else. I turn to Tristan and catch his gray gaze. ¡°He¡¯s not going to be at Burberry next year. We have to get him here, in the Hamptons.¡±


    My hand tightens on the handle of my beach bag. Inside, there¡¯s a brand- new list. I felt like thest one was getting too cluttered, so I started over. I¡¯m not ready to show the Idols this, not yet. But maybe one day.


    Closing my eyes briefly, I can see it in my head. Everyone that was on that boat has their name written down all over again. What they did to me ¡­ I owe them all a lot more than I gavest year. Vengeance is due in spades.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep


    A list by Marnye Reed


    The Girls: Harper du Pont, BeFky tter, and Ileana Taittinger Their Cronies: Anna KirkpatriFk, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn,


    Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner, Kiara Xiao, and Ben Thresher


    The Plebs


    Tristan exhales, nostrils ring, and then takes off down the small rise, dragging me with him. Everyone else follows, a little entourage of bluebloods-that-aren¡¯t-technically-Bluebloods, if you know what I mean. Windsor and Zack have the money, the looks, and the poprity to be in the Inner Circle. Hell, they have enough charisma to be Idols. And then there¡¯s Miranda and Andrew who used to be Bluebloods, but got kicked out, even though they¡¯re more worthy than any other person on that beach. And Lizzie


    ¡­ Lizzie would be a female Idol if she went to Burberry Prep, that¡¯s for


    damn sure. From what Zack tells me, she¡¯s the Queen of the Coventry Prep Elite.


    The crowd on the beach hushes and goes still as we approach the bonfire together. All eyes are on Tristan as he heads over to one of the logs next to the fire, gestures for me to take a seat, and then leans down in front of me, so close that our mouths nearly touch.


    ¡°What can I get you to drink?¡± he asks as Harper scoffs and makes her way over to us. I¡¯m so focused on Tristan though that I can barely look at her.


    ¡°Soda,¡± I whisper, and when he lifts one brow, I get more specific, ¡°cherry Coke and a cup with ice and a straw?¡± Tristan leans in close and presses his lips to my cheek, leaving me with this hot, tingling sensation and literally no clue as to what¡¯s actually happening here.


    Are we friends now?


    ¡°Done.¡± Tristan stands back up and turns, putting himself chest-to-chest with Harper as Zack sits down on one side of me, and Zayd sits down on the other. Double Z-boys. I almost smile, but then I see Greg and John watching me, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. John was undoing his pants. I¡¯m pretty sure he ¡­


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zayd whispers, drawing my attention over to him. ¡°Don¡¯t look at those assholes.¡±


    We stare at each other, his lip and eyebrow rings catching the flickering light from the bonfire. He really has a beautiful face, meant for stardom. And that voice ¡­ It¡¯s no wonder his personal worth is around twelve million. His dad¡¯s worth is close to four hundred million, but it¡¯s Zayd¡¯s grandmother, who started a rental car business in the sixties who¡¯s worth the most: at around six billion.


    ¡°What the fuck, Tristan?¡± I hear Harper spit out, and even though I¡¯d much rather look at Zayd, I end up turning to nce in that direction. Miranda is right there. Creed, too. Lizzie and Myron as well.


    Windsor stands back, sipping from a red stic cup. How he¡¯s managed to get a drink in his hand so fast is just a testament to his party boy skills. He notices me looking at him and gives a dramatic little wink.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Tristan reaches out for Harper¡¯s bare shoulder, and then pushes her to the side. Not forcefully or anything, just enough to get her out of the way. He funnels between Ileana and Becky as


    they gape at him, and the others follow.

 162

    ¡°Who invited Coventry Prep?¡± Becky says, at a volume that¡¯s clearly meant to carry. ¡°This is a Burberry party.¡± She steps in front of Lizzie and gives her a little shove in the chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t test me,¡± Lizzie says, just as loudly. ¡°You saw what happenedst year when you tried.¡±


    Becky pushes her again, this time with two hands.


    Lizzie stumbles back, and then Tristan¡¯s there, hauling Becky up and away, and tossing her to the sand.


    ¡°Do not touch my people, tter,¡± he says, pointing at her. His face is dead serious. Without having to try, his voice cuts through the murmuring and the whispering. There are Plebs everywhere, watching us. I rise to my feet, sensing violence. Back at Ileana Taittinger¡¯s party, when I dumped the cars in the pool, I could see factions forming in the audience. The same thing is happening here.


    Tristan versus Harper, King versus Queen.


    ¡°If you keep talking, I¡¯ll toss you right out of this limo, and we¡¯ll find out if the Plebs enjoy their queen better ¡­ or their king. Don¡¯t test me, Harper.¡±


    Looks like we¡¯re about to find out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think anything¡¯s changed at the academy. I¡¯m still an Idol. Creed, Zayd, and I still have an Inner Circle.¡± Tristan swings his arm to indicate our little group. ¡°You¡¯re looking at them. Hands off.¡±


    ¡°Are you fucking serious?¡± Ileana squeaks behind him, but he¡¯s ignoring herpletely. She¡¯s a vicious little rat, but that¡¯s all she is: vermin. Harper and Becky are the ringleaders, and those boys are their pets. I swallow hard and Zack reaches down to take my hand. As soon as he touches me, I feel warmth surge up my arm and into my chest.


    Tristan lifts his head, and I swear to god, it¡¯s the cockiest, most arrogant thing I¡¯ve ever seen, the way he pushes raven-ck hair from his face. His gray eyes sparkle as he sneers.


    ¡°Burberry Prep has a new queen.¡±


    ¡°Lizzie?¡± Harper screeches, trying and failing to toss back what¡¯s left of her brte hair. Hah. Go Windsor.


    ¡°No,¡± Tristan says, pointing back at me. ¡°Her.¡±


    ¡°The Working Girl?¡± Harper blurts, and suddenly, all eyes are on me. I don¡¯t know why, but I stand up.


    My heart is pounding so fast that I feel dizzy, but I hold my ground.


    ¡°What makes you think you control the academy?¡± Becky sneers, taking Sai Patel¡¯s hand so he can pull her to her feet. The Bluebloods assemble like an army behind the three Idol girls.


    ¡°Think?¡± Tristan echoes, scoffing like Becky¡¯s a brainless idiot. I mean, I¡¯m pretty sure she is, but he definitely puts that feeling into his voice in a way I¡¯m not sure I could. ¡°I don¡¯t think anything. I am in charge of the academy.¡±


    He turns and starts to walk away when Harper grabs onto his arm, digging her nails into his rounded biceps.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t told William that we broke up yet,¡± she says, her voice just this side of pleading. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to know.¡± I nce over at Lizzie and see that her shoulders have gonepletely stiff. She¡¯s staring at Tristan with this mix of want and confusion that makes my chest hurt. Maybe ¡­ now that he¡¯s broken up with Harper, now that he¡¯s trying to change his ways, she might want him?


    I step forward without meaning to, and both Zayd and Zack stand up behind me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told him,¡± Tristan says, shaking her off. ¡°Stop your groveling. It¡¯s pathetic. Nobody here likes you enough to see your vulnerable side and still want to hang out with you. If you want to keep any of your friends, then step down willingly and fade into the background. I have two years left at Burberry to make your life miserable.¡±


    Harper spits in his face, and Tristan scowls, swiping his hand across his face to wipe it off. He keeps walking, heads right over to the refreshments table and gets me the drink that I asked for. While the entire beach watches, he turns back around and delivers it straight to me.


    ¡°I won¡¯t kiss you with that girl¡¯s filth on me, but give me a chance to wash off.¡± I take the soda, doing my best not to gape, and turn to watch as Tristan heads to the edge of the beach, tears his shirt over his head, kicks off his sandals, and wades in.


    The buzzing sound of conversation starts up again, like the chirping of insects, as I turn to Zayd and look at him with a million questions bobbing in my eyes.


    ¡°Zayd Kaiser, please exin to me what¡¯s happening here,¡± I whisper as I meet his eyes, and he nods once, briskly.


    ¡°I promise I will,¡± he says, tracing the infinity symbol tattoo over the fabric of his shirt. ¡°Just not here. Before you leave the Hamptons, okay?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I exhale and take a sip of my soda, but I¡¯m already nodding. Not here, not in this tank of sharks.


    I swear, it feels like the eyes of every single Blueblood are on me. That scares me. We¡¯re outnumbered as it is. And I can¡¯t be surrounded by my friends-wait, are the Idols really my friends?-at all times. What happens next time Harper catches me alone in the locker room? Or Ie around the corner in the chapel building and find John and Greg waiting for me? My mind strays to that video Andrew took of those psychos chasing him down.


    Shivers overtake me.


    ¡°Ben has to go down this week,¡± I whisper, and Zayd gives me a tight half-smile. Creed appears a minuteter, pausing next to me as Tristan makes his way up the beach with his dark hair dripping.


    I¡¯m not going to lie: he looks like a god.


    ¡°So much for ignoring them then?¡± Creed drawls, yawning and lifting his chin defiantly. ¡°Now what, your majesty?¡±


    ¡°If they engage us, we push back. Don¡¯t let them see any cracks in ourradery, Creed.¡± Tristan pushes sopping hair from his forehead as Windsor steps up beside him, still sipping foamy beer from a cup. The two men exchange a brief look.


    ¡°Of course not, Tristan,¡± Creed replies, rolling his blue eyes. ¡°We¡¯re the best of friends, aren¡¯t we? Even Zack Brooks here, he¡¯s my buddy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we can¡¯t be friends,¡± Zack growls, and having all five guys surrounding me like this, it¡¯s quite obvious that he¡¯s the biggest, strongest one. My heart stutters in my chest. ¡°After all, you¡¯ve got a cruel streak to match mine. We¡¯re a match made in heaven. Just so long as you stop directing that inner core of hate on Marnye, we won¡¯t have any problems.¡±


    ¡°When can I beat the shit out of Greg, John, and Ben?¡± Zayd asks, cracking inked knuckles.


    ¡°One step at a time,¡± Tristan says, staring over my shoulder at the Bluebloods. ¡°One step at a time.¡± He pushes past Windsor and takes a seat in front of the fire, leaning back against the log for support. ¡°First we win over the Plebs.¡±


    Windsor watches this exchange, and then bites into a peach. I¡¯m not sure where he got it from, but he looks bemused as he smiles at me with juice running down his chin, and then starts off down the beach like he¡¯s taking a stroll.


    Even though I promised myself I wouldn¡¯t put my trust in anyone, Windsor is certainly winning me over. I let him go, and I don¡¯t think too hard about it, focusing instead on Miranda and Andrew. She drags him over, pushing past her brother for a spot next to me.


    ¡°This is so crazy. Makesst summer look like a breeze,¡± Miranda whispers, eating the gossip up with a spoon.


    ¡°This is dangerous,¡± Andrew hedges, but I can see him watching Windsor as the prince takes off down the beach. Pretty sure he has a crush on him. Everyone does, even Miranda, so I¡¯m not surprised. ¡°If they were that bad at theke, how are they going to react after being insulted and rejected? Shit.¡± Andrew curses under his breath and bites his lip, looking down at the sopping wet form of Tristan Vanderbilt. ¡°I hope you know this is going to bleed over into the Club.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well-aware,¡± Tristan says, staring into the fire. He may as well be a thousand miles away. He¡¯s clearly not present right now. Andrew shakes his head and sighs.


    Lizzie gets herself a drink andes back to sit in the sand in front of me, holding her beer between her legs. Her amber eyes flick to Tristan for a second before moving back to my face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Marnye, we¡¯ve got you,¡± she says, giving an almost shy sort of smile. Part of me wants to hate her for what she did, for making that bet with Zack. But I don¡¯t. She seems so genuine ¡­ I know I have to be ready for betrayal at any moment, from any corner, but I don¡¯t want to believe that about Lizzie. People make mistakes. It¡¯s whether or not they learn from them that really matters.


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Miranda says, lifting her chin and sniffing derisively. ¡°Safe over there at Coventry Prep.¡±


    Lizzie¡¯s mouth pops open in surprise, and she blinks several times before answering.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Tristan tell you?¡± she asks, and I shake my head. Tell me? Tell me what? ¡°I¡¯m transferring to Burberry next year!¡±


    She sounds so excited about it that I smile, but inside, I¡¯m churning. Tristan is staring at me, studying me,


    but I don¡¯t let on anything.


    Not even to myself.

 163

    I use the next few days to rx, spending my time reading or studying up on next year¡¯s assignments. Somehow, doing work on the beach makes it feel less like, well, work. The sun feels good, the sea sings a lulling melody, and I have constantpany. As if they can sense how tentative this new situation is, the Idols don¡¯t stay long or say too much, not like they did the other day.


    I haven¡¯t gotten straight answers out of anyone, but I¡¯m enjoying my time with Lizzie, Miranda, Andrew, Zack, and Windsor too much to press. That is, until myst night at the Hamptons.


    ¡°I wish you could stay longer,¡± Miranda says with a sigh, ¡°it¡¯s going to be downright boring here without you.¡±


    I give her a smile, and ept her outstretched hug, but I want to be home to spend some time with my dad. He might be doing better, but he¡¯s still sick. Cancer is a relentless, awful nightmare. Even when you¡¯ve beat it, it can slither back in the shadows. Spending time with Charlie is my number one priority.


    Besides, I think I might have a heart attack if I were to stay here the rest of the summer.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not leaving until tomorrow,¡± I say as Miranda pulls back and sighs, brushing some rose-gold hair from my face. Before third year starts, I¡¯ll get it cut and dyed again. I¡¯m pretty fond of the color and style now. Isn¡¯t that nice, how a nightmare can sometimes turn into a dream?


    ¡°Yeah, but still ¡­¡± She sighs again, and flops down on the edge of my bed, as boneless andzy as her brother. I smile. ¡°Are you freaking out about Lizzie?¡± she asks as I fold things and put them back in my duffel bag. I don¡¯t really have a proper suitcase. Too pricey.


    I look up and raise an eyebrow.


    ¡°Why would I be freaking out about Lizzie?¡± I ask, setting aside an outfit for tonight. The Cabots are hosting a fancy party for all their rich friends. Unfortunately, that means some of the Bluebloods might be here with their parents. As long as I don¡¯t have to see William ¡­ If he hits his son in front of me again, I might just explode.


    ¡°Because she¡¯s freaking obsessed with Tristan, that¡¯s what.¡± Miranda slides off the bed onto the floor, takes the clean cotton panties from my outfit pile, and trades them out for acy red pair. My cheeks flush about that same color.


    ¡°So?¡± I choke, because I still haven¡¯t had a moment to sort through my feelings, much less figure out a way to exin them to someone else.


    ¡°So ¡­ aren¡¯t you crushing on him?¡± she asks, tilting her head to one side, white-blonde hair sliding over her shoulder. ¡°I mean, you¡¯re crushing on a lot of guys, but I thought Tristan was one of them.¡±


    ¡°I am not crushing!¡± I blurt, but that¡¯s totally not true. I am. I¡¯m just not sure ¡­ exactly how many crushes I have, or if all of them are healthy options. ¡°Lizzie is a friend, not a threat.¡± Those words ring true, both aloud and in my heart, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Even if I am crushing on Tristan ¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter. If he loves Lizzie, he loves Lizzie. That¡¯s it.


    A ball of ice forms in my tummy, and I suddenly have a stomachache. ¡°You two should get dressed,¡± Kathleen says, pushing open the cracked


    door with a smile. ¡°Guests are starting to arrive.¡± I nod, and Miranda groans, but we both get up to change. Miranda heads back to her room, and I change in the bathroom, slipping into a soft, white jersey knit dress and sandals.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    When Ie out, Zayd is there waiting for me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, pausing shyly in the doorway, my dress fluttering around my ankles. He nces up from his phone, sees me, and smiles.


    It¡¯s a nice smile, too, genuine.


    Butterflies take over my insides, spreading their wing dust all over mymon sense. I¡¯ve been here, done this with Zayd before. And yet ¡­


    ¡°Seeing as I won¡¯t be around for your seventeenth birthday,¡± he starts, sitting up, and pulling something from his pocket, ¡°I wanted to give you


    this.¡±


    I put my dirty clothes in my duffel bag, and then head over to the bed, reaching out to take the item in Zayd¡¯s hand. As soon as my fingers brush his palm, he grabs onto me and yanks me forward. Our bodies crash together and we tumble back onto the surface of the bed.


    I¡¯m surrounded by that sage and geranium scent of his, teased with the slightest kiss of tobo and cloves.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t smoke clove cigarettes,¡± I blurt, our faces so close together that our mouths brush when I talk. Zayd¡¯s inked arm is around my waist, and I can feel his heart beating against my own chest. ¡°They¡¯ll kill you, you know.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he whispers, and then he captures my mouth with his, kissing me with this lightness that I haven¡¯t felt in him before. It takes over me, and before I know it, I¡¯m kissing him, too. Zayd¡¯s hands roam my back, but don¡¯t stray any further, like he knows not to push boundaries.


    My mind flickers with memories of a time just like this, during first year, when he had a camera set up to ¡­


    I jerk back with a gasp, and sit up on the edge of the bed, clutching the item I stole from Zayd¡¯s hand.


    It¡¯s a pair of earrings, made from guitar picks.


    ¡°Those are from my first concert,¡± he whispers as he sits up, too, his mouth smeared with the pale pink of my lipstick. ¡°I opened for some backyard punk band at this little ce in downtown Santa Cruz. There were like ¡­ maybe ten people in the audience?¡± Zayd stares at the floor, his eyes distant and far away. When he turns them back up to me, there¡¯s a passion burning there that makes me flush. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve never been happie


    r than I was in that moment.¡±

 164

    I smile, and he smiles back.


    There¡¯s a knock on the door, and Miranda calls my name.


    ¡°Just a minute,¡± I shout back, looking at Zayd. He seems ¡­ like maybe he¡¯s strung a little tight? But a lot of that shame he was carrying is gone. ¡°Did youe here to kiss or to talk?¡± I ask as I reach up and struggle to get the earring through the hole in my lobe. Zayd scoots closer, and takes over, helping me get them both in.


    Once he¡¯s finished, he reaches out and cups the side of my face.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving tomorrow?¡± he asks, and I nod. It feels almost bittersweet, like the end of an era. I know that¡¯s not true, but there¡¯s something about the


    soft sunshine filtering through the windows, the call of the gulls, and thepping of the ocean that makes it feel that way. ¡°Then I guess we sort of ¡­ need to talk turkey?¡±


    My mouth ttens out into a neutral line, and all that anxiety and angst I¡¯ve been feeling rises to the surface.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand how you could hate me, and then ¡­¡± I trail off as Zayd drops his hands into hisp. He has so many tattoos, these gorgeous twists of color made up of stars, guitars, birds, musical notes, women, and butterflies.


    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Marnye,¡± he says, exhaling and then running the fingers of both his hands through his hair. His emerald eyes turn to mine, and catch my gaze. I can¡¯t look away. ¡°Maybe at first, yeah, I did.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Just that one word, a whisper.


    ¡°You ¡­ came in swinging. You were smart, and you y music like a goddess. You¡¯re pretty and driven, and you don¡¯t care what someone¡¯sst name is or how much money they have. You came to Burberry, and you didn¡¯t have to pay an arm and a leg, and I guess ¡­ we got the wrong idea about your schrship.¡± He looks at me with a genuine sort of expression etched into his handsome features. ¡°We really did want you gone because you¡¯re a threat to everything we know and understand.¡±


    I try to swallow, but there¡¯s a lump in my throat, and I get choked up.


    Zayd is quiet for a moment, watching as I tease the earrings with my fingers. It¡¯s a thoughtful gift, something that money can¡¯t buy. I feel like Zayd¡¯s learned at least something from spending time with me. Maybe I should try to learn something from him, too? Everybody has some lesson that¡¯s worth teaching.


    ¡°And then-I¡¯m not sure when, exactly-we all started to ¡­ warm up to you, I guess? Must¡¯ve been just after Halloween, I think, when you marched into that party with bright red hair and a devil costume.¡± Zayd grins, and I flush. That was a bold move for me, but one that I definitely don¡¯t regret. ¡°Anyway, we¡¯d already made the bet, so-¡±


    ¡°With who?¡± I ask, even though I¡¯m pretty sure the correct grammatical question would be: with whom? Sounds so formal though. Or maybe I¡¯m just nervous, so I¡¯m babbling incoherently in my own brain?


    ¡°Harper, Becky, and Anna,¡± Zayd says, pursing his lips. ¡°Whichever boy won would get a trophy from the girls. If we¡¯d failed, and you hadn¡¯t shown


    up to the graduation g with anyone, we¡¯d agreed to take the girls on a trip together.¡± He exhales, and closes his eyes, like the story is painful to tell.


    Let me be honest with you: it¡¯s painful to hear, too.


    ¡°Just before winter formal, the girls made another bet at an Infinity Club party.¡± He opens his eyes and looks right at me. ¡°They bet each other that they could get you to do what Zack and Lizzie couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What was the prize for that one?¡± I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. I feel suddenly cold, even though it¡¯s nice and warm in here. What¡¯s my life worth? is what I¡¯m really asking. For Zack, it was his family fortune. For Lizzie ¡­ it was simply a sponsorship to the Infinity Club.


    So what now? What am I worth now?


    ¡°The Blueblood girls made the bet against some of the Plebs.¡± Zayd chews his lower lip for a second and snaps his fingers, like he¡¯s trying to remember names. ¡°rissa, maybe? Kiara, before she was in the Inner Circle? I¡¯m not sure. Anyway, the betsts until graduation. They¡¯re going to keeping at you until you leave Burberry Prep.¡±


    ¡°The stakes, Zayd,¡± I choke out, doing my best to keep my breathing even and steady.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°If the Bluebloods win, they get exclusive contracts for their businesses, between them and the businesses of the girls they¡¯re up against. If it goes the other way around, there¡¯s a pool of money worth about ¡­ three million dors that they¡¯ll split, no trust fund BS or strings attached, something they can spend now without their families breathing down their necks.¡±


    Business contracts. Three million dors. That¡¯s what my life is worth.


    ¡°Thank you for telling me,¡± I whisper, and then I move to stand up. Zayd grabs my wrist and holds me in ce. When I look back at him, I can see his confidence warring with his shame.


    ¡°We wanted you to leave Burberry Prep. If you un-enroll, the bet is null and void. That¡¯s it. They¡¯ll stop. As long as you¡¯re there, they¡¯ll be relentless.¡± Zayd stands up and pulls me to him. I¡¯d forgotten how nice it felt to have his inked arms around me. No, no, I didn¡¯t forget: I bloFked it out. ¡°This goes further than the academy, Marnye. The Infinity Club ¡­ it¡¯s not all fun and games. People like the du Ponts or the tters, they¡¯re watching their kids¡¯ bets. They have a stake in them.¡±


    ¡°Wow. I guess money really is a disease, huh?¡± I ask, fighting to stay calm, when on the


    inside, I want to freak out.


    ¡°These millionaires and


    billionaires, they have nothing better to do than y around with my life?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye. We ¡­ should¡¯ve just told you what was going on from


    the beginnin


    g.¡±

 165

    ¡°You should have,¡± I say, but my voicees out a little shaky. I mean, I¡¯d heard from the boys before that the senior version of the Infinity Club was invested in this, but hearing Zayd say it all aloud, hearing him name the stakes ¡­ It¡¯s a lot to take in. ¡°Instead, you guys continued to bully me. You made me feel so small, and then you ignored me. You let the others treat me like crap.¡±


    Zayd looks away sharply, that shame creeping up his neck and face. It all makes sense now, the way he pulled away from me, his resistance to being around me. That doesn¡¯t make it okay, just ¡­ understandable.


    ¡°Creed and Tristan, they know you¡¯re telling me all this?¡± Zayd shrugs, and then looks back at me, mouth tight.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what they think.¡± Zayd releases me and steps back, just before the doorknob jiggles, and Miranda calls out to me. I turn away from Zayd, grab my phone, and head outside, pushing the door closed behind me.


    ¡°What did he want?¡± she asks, but I just shake my head, and we go downstairs together.


    The party is beautiful, the full indoor-outdoor living of the house brought to life with papernterns, tables full of food, and soft but upbeat music. People mill around in swimsuits and expensive gowns both, talking andughing. For the most part, the crowd is older, but there¡¯s a small group of students out back, near the open gate that leads down to the beach.


    The boys are all there-Tristan, Creed, Windsor, and Zack-as well as Andrew and Lizzie.


    In the corner, huddled together for protection, there¡¯s Ben, Harper, and Becky.


    ¡°Seeing the three of them standing on my property,¡± Miranda starts, narrowing her eyes and flipping Harper off when she turns our way, ¡°it¡¯s just infuriating. It makes me sick to my stomach. My mother knows the things


    that girl has done. She knows it, and yet ¡­¡± Miranda sighs as we pick our way between the party guests. ¡°She can¡¯t exactly stand up to the Infinity Club by herself. We might be rich, but sometimes those old money bonds are impossible to break.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say with a slight smile, ¡°I get it.¡±


    Really, I¡¯m standing there thinking that growing up with Charlie in the Train Car in the Cruz Bay Trailer Park was the best thing that ever happened to me. These people are insane. All they care about is money, appearance, and power. There¡¯s a totalck ofpassion or empathy or care. My stomach starts to hurt again, and I think that at the very least, maybe I made some kind of impact on these boys?


    Maybe Tristan, Zayd, Creed, and Zack will think a little differently about how they behave in the future?


    ¡°From now on, I¡¯ll try to be a better man. It wasn¡¯t Marnye¡¯s job to teaFh me how to be one, but she already has anyway.¡±


    My eyes lock on Zack¡¯s as we move across the small stretch ofwn toward him. He smiles at me as we approach, and I take up a position on his right side.


    ¡°You and Zayd were up there a long time,¡± Creed remarks, leaning against the short white fence like he can barely keep himself upright. ¡°Find anything interesting to talk about?¡± I give him a look, and there must be something to my expression because he quickly stands upright and shuts his mouth.


    ¡°We were just discussing Ben Thresher,¡± Windsor says, enunciating the boy¡¯s name to the point that it¡¯d be impossible for him to miss it. ¡°His family owns Thresher Chicken, a big factory farm conglomerate.¡± The prince tilts his head to one side as he studies me, hazel eyes burning. ¡°You did say you¡¯d like to get Ben before the week was over, didn¡¯t you?¡±Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°What-¡± Tristan starts to say, but there¡¯s a sudden hubbub amongst the other partygoers as several cars pull up, one of which is a police car. The other has a man and a woman in inclothes, but they both very quickly bring up their badges, and nod to be let through the side gate.


    We all watch as they make their way straight over to Ben.


    ¡°What was you said?¡± Windsor asks, drawing my attention away from the spectacle and back to him. ¡°Hang them with their own rope?¡± The detectives


    -because that must be what they are-start talking to Ben. In the meantime, several other cars and vans pull up, and out climb news reporters with cameras rolling.


    ¡°Hang them with their own rope,¡± I repeat in awe, as Windsor grins and taps his fingers against the side of his ss.


    ¡°Well, I may have called several news stations and let on that Ben Thresher, son of the CEO of Thresher Meats was being hauled in for sexual assault.¡± Windsor shrugs his shoulders and gives me this wicked little smile. ¡°That was my special, little touch. Well, that and I¡¯ve guaranteed he won¡¯t be paying off or intimidating the girl he assaulted. She¡¯s safe, and well-taken care of.¡±


    ¡°He hurt another girl?¡± I ask, and the idea is just too terrible to put much thought to. Windsor nods and looks me straight in the eye.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t make that up; I wouldn¡¯t make that up. Look, there, mdy, I¡¯m learning from you.¡± Windsor grins and grabs a pair of hor d¡¯oeuvres off of a passing tray. ¡°Mini beef wellington?¡± He holds it out to me, but I¡¯m locked in ce, watching as Ben is dragged from the party in handFuffs.


    ¡°How on earth did you find out about that?¡± Tristan asks, turning to look at Windsor. The prince stops smiling, setting the beef wellingtons on a te that¡¯s been abandoned on a nearby table. He wipes his hand on his shorts and stares Tristan down.


    ¡°I have my ways, Mr. Vanderbilt. If there are skeletons in the closet, I¡¯ll find them.¡± Windsor¡¯s eyes track across the group as Zayd makes his way over to us, pausing as he senses the tension in our little gathering. ¡°That goes for everyone here: if there¡¯s something you want to confess, I suggest you do it before it¡¯s toote.¡±


    I shiver.


    Windsor York is scary.


    No, not just scary, he¡¯s terrify


    ing. At least he¡¯s on my side.

 166

    Summer back home with Dad is much less eventful than my single week in the Hamptons. I only just barely glimpsed what next year¡¯s going to be like and already, I¡¯m gearing up for all-out war.


    ¡°You okay, Marnye-bear?¡± Charlie asks, reeling in his line. We¡¯re sitting on the bank of a local fishing spot, pretending like we actually have the skills to catch something. Neither of us has had a single bite, and I know that this pond is stocked once a week with all sorts of fish. Must just be our totalck of experience showing.


    ¡°I¡¯m great,¡± I respond, feeling butterflies take over my stomach when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Every time I hear it make a sound, I get that sensation. Maybe because since I¡¯ve left the Hamptons, I¡¯ve had no shortage of messages. From Miranda, from Andrew, from Lizzie.


    And from all five guys: Windsor, Zack, Creed, Zayd, and even Tristan.


    ¡°You sure?¡± Dad asks, setting his rod aside and opening his cooler. He pulls out a pair of sodas for the both of us, and I smile. In the past, he might¡¯ve gone for a beer and tried to justify it to me. Just this one, Marnye, and no more. Even if he kept his promise for that single day, by the end of the week he¡¯d be hammered. He¡¯s really been making an honest effort. ¡°You seem a little distant.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s just ¡­ I¡¯m nervous about school starting next month.¡± And by next month, I mean in a week. My stomach flip-flops, and I exhale sharply. My birthday¡¯sing up, too, on the 5th of September. I¡¯ll be seventeen,


    and a third year at Burberry Preparatory Academy. It¡¯s all going by so fast, I¡¯m almost afraid to see what happens when it ends.


    ¡°You seem to have a lot of new friends,¡± Dad hedges, fishing for information. He¡¯s about as sessful at that as he is at catching fish. I smile, and tuck some hair behind my ear. I¡¯ve let it grow out a little bit, but it¡¯s still short, still rose-gold. It¡¯s sort of my signature color now. My fingers stray to the tattoo on my hip, pressing into my pelvic bone forfort. I will not let the Infinity Club beat me.


    ¡°They¡¯re just friends,¡± I repeat with a grin, turning to look at him. We¡¯re so much alike: same brown eyes, same brte hair (before mine was dyed), same full upper lip with the little dip in the center, same small button nose. Dad always says his features look better on me than they ever did on him, but I still think he¡¯s a pretty handsome guy. ¡°If I get a boyfriend, you¡¯ll be the first to know.¡±


    I salute him, and he grimaces, but at least he¡¯s smiling, too. I have noticed in thest few weeks that he¡¯s started to look thinner, and his hair¡¯s started falling out. Fucking chemo. Both a blessing and a curse. Our old neighbor from the trailer park, Mrs. Fleming, is not only the world¡¯s best texter over the age of ny, but she also grows her own marijuana with the help of her adult grandsons. She¡¯s beaten cancer four times in her life, and swears that cannabis is responsible for it. She brings dads joints, edibles, and other things and, to make up for her deafness, shouts really loudly about him taking his medicine.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Maybe it¡¯ll help, maybe not, but at least the medical center has been taking excellent care of Charlie. I woke up one night in a cold sweat, panicking about it, certain that Harper was going to poison my father somehow, but Zack talked me down.


    Infinity Club rules are irond. Harper would never hurt Charlie because it would mean the end of her-financially, socially, and in business. The other Club members take bets very seriously. And by other members, I don¡¯t mean the junior sect.


    Exhaling sharply, I pop the top on my soda and down it. I¡¯m trying to get Dad to quit sugar with me, but he says he can only tackle one vice at a time, so for now we¡¯re both still sweet-tooth junkies.


    On the way home, Charlie suddenly reaches to turn off the radio-even though his favorite song in the whole world, Every Little Thing She Does is MagiF by the Police is on-and then sits back heavily in his chair, hands


    white-knuckled on the wheel. My first thought is that there¡¯s something going on with his health, and I start to panic.


    ¡°What?¡± My voice is shrill and high and foreign, a whole host of nightmaresing to life inside my head. ¡°Dad, please.¡± My voice cracks, and Charlie reaches out to take my hand.


    ¡°Marnye-bear, it¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay.¡± He smiles as my heart races and I narrow my eyes. ¡°This is about your birthday, that¡¯s all.¡± I exhale sharply and lean back into my seat, pushing some of the yellow batting that¡¯s leaking out of the headrest away from my face. ¡°Your friends asked my permission to organize a surprise party.¡±


    ¡°A surprise party ¡­ that you¡¯re telling me about?¡± I query, ncing at my phone and finding messages from most of my new ¡®friends¡¯. The new Bluebloods. A surge of energy goes through me, and I lick my lips. Me, a Blueblood? An Idol? Surely, Tristan was joking. And anyway, I could never be so cruel. I¡¯d never fit in.


    ¡°Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay with it,¡± Dad continues as we pull into the driveway of our new house. It¡¯s disconcerting sometimes, not going back to the Train Car. I have so many fond memories of that ce. Bad ones, too. I¡¯ll miss it, but I¡¯m okay with the change in scenery. ¡°Those boys, if they¡¯re bullying you again ¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not,¡± I say, and the wordse out strong, sure, confident. I wait until Dad¡¯s parked the truck and shut off the engine before I reach out and take his hand. ¡°And I¡¯ll never put you through what I did before.¡±


    Red ribbons, water turning pink, my baFk sliding down th


    e wall of the shower.

 167

    Exhale, Marnye, exhale.


    ¡°If there¡¯s something you need to tell me,¡± Dad starts, his cheeks reddening slightly, ¡°even if it¡¯s about sex or anything like that, I¡¯m here. There¡¯s nothing you could do that would change my love for you, Marnye. If youe to me with questions, I promise I won¡¯t be mad.¡±


    My serious expression morphs into a grin, and I lean forward to throw my arms around his neck in a very Miranda-esque sort of hug. When I sit back, Dad¡¯s smiling, too.


    ¡°Okay. If I have any questions, I¡¯ll ask Google first, but keep you in mind for a close second.¡± Dadughs, but the sound is half mirth and half relief. Good. ¡°And yes to the party. Actually, I¡¯m excited for it.¡±


    I don¡¯t say it aloud, but ¡­ it¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve had a birthday with anyone but me and Dad.


    Last year, Zack tried, but I wasn¡¯t ready. This year, I¡¯m open to change.


    And I¡¯m not afraid.


    I don¡¯t tell anyone that Dad¡¯s already spilled the beans about my party. Instead, when he starts acting squirrelly after our pancake breakfast at the Railroad Station, I just smile and smother myughter with my hand.


    When we pull up to the Lower Banks Bowling Alley-the only cool ce to bowl in the whole Cruz Bay Metro area-there are cars parked outside that are worth more than the entire business. Heh. If I hadn¡¯t already known this wasing, I¡¯d know now.


    My heart skips a few beats as Dad rushes around to open my door, treating me like a princess. I feel a little like one, in the ck party dress I picked out. It¡¯s a high-low dress (shorter in the front than it is in the back) with a sleeveless, beaded bodice, and a little cor that buttons in the back. The best part? I paid forty bucks for it online, and I feel fabulous in it. I don¡¯t need designer dresses or shoes to feel pretty. It might sound cheesy, but I really do believe that energy is inside of all of us.


    Biting my lower lip, I pause just outside the door, next to the sign that says


    Closed for a Private Party, and then I push my way in. ¡°Surprise!¡±


    The cheer goes up from the small group gathered in the entryway, next to the old w machine, and the frosted ss windows that partition off the dining area. There¡¯s a lot of enthusiasm in that cheer, even though Creed¡¯s yawning and pping at the same time, and Tristan¡¯s as subdued as he always is. The others-Miranda, Lizzie, Andrew, Zack, Windsor, and ZaydProperty ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    -make up for it.


    ¡°You¡¯re seventeen today!¡± Miranda shouts, dancing over to me and giving me a squeeze that¡¯s so enthusiastic that my feete up off the floor. She


    smells like that Victoria¡¯s Secret body ssh that everyone¡¯s so obsessed with. Love Spell, right? I wonder if she has a new girlfriend?


    ¡°I¡¯m seventeen,¡± I repeat,ughing as I push her off and Lizzie steps in for a much softer, but no less tight, hug. Each girl¡¯s hug matches their personality. The thought makes me smile.


    ¡°Happy birthday,¡± Lizzie says, pulling back and catching sight of my dad. Her breath hitches, and her amber eyes get big. ¡°Mr. Reed.¡± The wordse out in a whisper, and it takes me a minute to figure out what¡¯s going on. She¡¯s worried that he knows her part in the bet. He doesn¡¯t. And honestly, at this point, there¡¯s no reason to tell him.


    ¡°Lizzie, this is Charlie,¡± I introduce them as simply as I can, giving her a look that I hope conveys that. They shake hands as I move over to Andrew next. He¡¯s actually wearing a white shirt with a rainbow g on the front of it. I raise my eyebrows and he grins, reaching up to muss at his chestnut hair. ¡°I¡¯m not quite as brave as you,¡± he says, to which I raise my own eyebrow. I¡¯ve never thought of myself as brave. I¡¯m learning self-confidence and self-care, but bravery? I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m there yet. ¡°It¡¯s just, my parents


    are still in Italy, so ¡­¡± Andrew trails off, and we hug anyway.


    Those are the easy people to greet.


    The rest of the group is ¡­plicated.


    Well, maybe to me. Windsor hasn¡¯t gotten the memo. He sweeps me off my feet, and I squeal in surprise as he spins me around and sets me back down, curling his fingers through mine and lifting them up, so that we¡¯re palm to palm. My heart is pounding, my pulse racing, as he leans in and kisses both of my cheeks.


    My dad is staring at us with a very reserved and confused sort of expression. After I exined to him who Windsor was, he didn¡¯t believe me. He literally bet me twenty bucks that I was full of it. Then he looked the prince up on his phone, shuffle-walked to my bedroom door, and put a small wad of ones and fives on my dresser.


    ¡°My daughter goes to sFhool with royalty,¡± he¡¯d mumbled, and then, ¡°no wonder you didn¡¯t want to leave that sFhool.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve all flown in for your birthday, and,¡± Windsor lifts up a single finger, ¡°since there¡¯s not a proper five star hotel in all of Cruz Bay, we¡¯re staying at the Bayside Bed and Breakfast.¡± As a grin spreads across my face, Windsor chuckles. ¡°Thought you¡¯d get a kick out of that.¡±


    ¡°You guys know the Bayside Bed and Breakfast is haunted, right?¡± I ask. ¡°And besides that, their continental breakfast consists of oranges in a bowl, and cold cereal. There¡¯s no valet, no turndown service, and they definitely have not perfected the art of ass kissing.¡±


    ¡°So we discovered yesterday,¡± Tristan says, gray eyes sliding to one side. His arms are crossed tight over his chest, and even though I¡¯m no psychologist, there¡¯s something about his stance that says guarded, closed- off, unavable. I wonder if he¡¯s doing it on purpose? ¡°The ceiling in my bathroom drips, and there¡¯s no room service.¡±


    ¡°Grenadine Heights might be an exclusive neighborhood, but overall, Cruz Bay isid back, and very West Coast casual. Sorry, guys.¡± I grin as Windsor releases me, and I turn to see Zack, watching us with a brand-new red and ck varsity jacket on his shoulders.


    ¡°They let you back on the team?¡± I ask, and he nods, grimacing slightly. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s kind of bullshit that they forgave me so easily,¡± he starts,


    but then I¡¯m sliding my arms around his trim waist, and he¡¯s enveloping me in a hug that makes me sweat buckets. I feel all swoon-y and weird around


    him in a way I never have before.

 168

    Dad grumbles something under his breath, and disappears into the dining area to order a root beer float. He¡¯s trying to give me some privacy with my friends, which I appreciate, but every now and then his eyes flick our direction.


    ¡°Win some for Burberry Prep this year, okay?¡± I say, because once I took my revenge, and crossed his name off my list, I was done. There¡¯s no point in beating a dead horse, and I trust that Zack¡¯s learned a lesson he¡¯ll never forget. I didn¡¯t take revenge so I could gloat about it, or roll around in the blood of my enemies the way Harper might. And now that it¡¯s over-with these guys anyway-I¡¯m ready to start down the path of forgiveness.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Ask anyone: forgiveness is a much harder path than revenge.


    That much I know for sure, because secondster, the door opens and in walks Jennifer with a cluster of balloons in hand.


    My heart turns to ice, plummets into my belly, and shatters into shards. I feel sick.


    ¡°Hi ¡­¡± Miranda starts, looking totally unsure. But then she nces back at me, sees my face, and she knows: this is my mother. She knows all the stories, too, about the cheating and the rest stop and the sister I¡¯ve never met.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Jennifer begins, making her way over to us in a party dress almost as fancy and flouncy as my own. ¡°I brought you something.¡± She weaves her way between my friends without acknowledging them. That is, until she spots Windsor York. ¡°Oh. Oh my god. Your majesty.¡± She blurts the words, and my face turns beet red. I¡¯m probably hot to the touch, too.


    Jennifer turns to me with this look of pure glee on her face, like somehow my being friends with British royalty reflects on her in a positive way. To be honest, I¡¯ve never felt more alien around anyone in my life the way I do around Jennifer. She¡¯s a stranger in the worst kind of way. I mean, she¡¯s my mother, one of the people in this world who are supposed to be closer to me than anyone, and yet, she¡¯s as far away from me as a random woman off the street.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I ask as Dades around the edge of the ss wall, and gives her a look of surprise. I can tell by the expression on his face that he didn¡¯t invite her either. He wouldn¡¯t do that to me, not without asking.


    ¡°Well, it came up in passing conversation with your father that you might be here today ¡­¡± Jennifer trails off, her blond hair coiffed on the top of her head like a princess, all braided with glittering silver thread and tiny pearl beads.


    ¡°I did not invite you, Jenn,¡± Charlie says, his face this strange mix of empathy and frustration.


    I feel so weird, having this moment with the Idols on one side of me, Zack and Windsor on the other, and my new friends fanned out behind my mother with matching expressions of sympathy.


    ¡°I just came to give my baby girl some balloons,¡± Jennifer says, passing over the bobbing bundle. Her eyes skim past me ande tond on Zayd. Her red painted mouth pops open in surprise. ¡°You¡¯re Billy Kaiser¡¯s son, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°The one and only,¡± Zayd says, but he sounds slightly irritated. When I nce back at him, I can see he¡¯s studying my mood. He knows what it¡¯s like to have an absentee parent, too.


    ¡°You¡¯ve certainly done well at the academy, all these nice friends,¡± Jennifer says, sounding a little breathless as her blue eyes take in Tristan and Creed before turning back to me. ¡°Which one¡¯s your boyfriend?¡±


    Forgiveness is a virtue, I tell myself as I stare into my mother¡¯s face. I try to make myself smile, but my lips remain t. All I can think about is sitting


    in the rain, crying, watching carse in and out of the parking lot while I hid beneath the thick limbs of a tree.


    Jennifer left me at a rest stop because her new boyfriend didn¡¯t like my crying.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡± The words juste out like that, t and uninterested. Almost bored. Jennifer stares at me, and I stare right back. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll have them all?¡± Sheughs, a little nervously, but it falls t, and the room ispletely silent. ¡°Thanks for the balloons.¡± Miranda creeps closer, like she can sense I need support, and I hand the helium-filled bouquet over to her. ¡°Have a root beer float or something and stay awhile.¡±


    I turn away, my face flushed, my hands shaking, and I end up looking right at Tristan.


    He stares down at me like he¡¯s confused and doesn¡¯t know what to do with me.


    ¡°This is the part where you say happy birthday,¡± I whisper, and something in that hard expression of his softens slightly.


    ¡°Happy birthday. I know what it¡¯s like to have a shitty parent; don¡¯t let them rain on your parade.¡±


    ¡°Excuse you, young man,¡± Jennifer says, but I¡¯m smiling and ignoring her. I can hear Charlie mumble as he drags her away toward the dining area.


    Tristan reaches into his pocket, andes out with that damn ne again. That same fucking ne. He lifts it up in question, and I turn, letting him hook it around my neck. As he leans in, his lips brush my ear, and I shiver.


    ¡°I meant what I said when I went through those cards: yours was the only one I didn¡¯t hate.¡± He hooks the sp, and lets go, stepping back as I reach up to y with the double roses. The journey of this ne reminds me of my rtionship with Tristan, this strange back and forth that makes my mouth dry, my chest ache. When I look at him, I yearn.


    Yearn.


    I just said yearn.


    Before I can think too hard about that, I turn to Zayd, ignoring Lizzie¡¯s amber gaze on me. Part of me wonders if I should give the ne back yet again, surrender Tristan to Lizzie¡¯s embrace. She really seems interested in him ¡­


    ¡°Did I fool you, by giving you the earrings early?¡± Zayd asks, grinning at me as he twists his now bright orange hair into little gelled spikes. The color


    is so vibrant and crazy, but it suits him. Hell, I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s a color in the world that wouldn¡¯t suit him.


    ¡°Oh, I was so fooled,¡± I say, giving him a hug, too. The way he makes me feel, the way they all make me feel ¡­ Third year at Burberry Prep is going to be a hormonal mess. I just know it. Zayd holds me for a long time, longer than most friends would, and Miranda clears her throat rudely next to us.


    We separate, and my eyes lock immediately with Creed¡¯s icy blue ones. ¡°Marnye.¡± He both looks and sounds a little ¡­ pissed off. ¡°Happy


    seventeenth.¡±


    ¡°I started to think about you ¡­ as mine.¡±


    I wet my suddenly dry lips and try to decide if a hug is in order. I didn¡¯t hug Tristan, but I hugged everybody else. Creed and I just stare at each other. Finally, because I just can¡¯t take the freaking tension, I throw my arms around him and give a big squeeze. I let go before he gets a chance to return the gesture, and find that his normally droopy bedroom eyes have widened to blue saucers.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start the fun and games!¡± I choke out, far too cheerfully to be believed by anyone, and then nearly break my ankle on my way down the steps. Zack steadies me with a big, warm hand on my shoulder, and we all fan out on the bench seat while Miranda and Andrew plug in everyone¡¯s name. One of the employeeses over to take our drink orders, and I end up with a chocte milkshake covered in rainbow sprinkles and way too many maraschino cherries.


    There¡¯s a bit of awkwardness as we all settle in together. We¡¯re not exactly the best of f


    riends, and this is a major adjustment.

 169

    I¡¯m essentially hanging out with four of my bullies. Five, if you count Lizzie for making that bet.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you guys make an Infinity Club bet over bowling?¡± I joke, and I swear, everyone¡¯s head whips right over to me. ¡°Not an appropriate joke, huh?¡± I chuckle, but I¡¯m the only one. ¡°I could tell you about the history of this building? How it was built in 1892 as a brothel, funded by a rich railroad baron because he thought if the minersing in for the gold rush had femalepany, they¡¯d be less violent ¡­¡±


    ¡°You can make jokes about the Infinity Club if you want,¡± Zack says fiercely, watching as I sip my milkshake from the red and white striped straw. ¡°You were hurt by it the most. And I already told you: it¡¯s sexy as hell


    when you talk historical facts.¡± He grins at me, and then whips his varsity jacket off his broad shoulders, settling the skin-warmed fabric over mine.


    My heart twists into a knot, and then dies from all the feels.


    My cheeks flush red as I reach up to pinch the coat closed around me, feeling like a teen from the fifties or something, drinking a milkshake from the soda fountain and wearing her boyfriend¡¯s varsity jacket in the bowling alley.


    Not that Zack¡¯s my boyfriend or anything. I mean, he hasn¡¯t asked.


    And even if he did, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d say yes.


    Shit, it smells like him, too, I think, doing my best to hold back a groan. Last time I wore his hoodie, I almost died from the scent. Sporty, but earthy, too, like musk and Fedar.


    ¡°Okay, lover boy,¡± Windsor says as he herds Zack toward the rack of bowling balls behind us. ¡°Pick one and let¡¯s get this game going. I quite enjoy kicking ass, even when there aren¡¯t any stakes involved.¡± He grins, and I think about what he did to Ben. I mean, Ben deserved it, but still. I don¡¯t think Windsor¡¯s joking right now.


    The game starts off with a bang, and I¡¯m surprised to see that both Zack and Windsor are damn good bowlers. Fortunately, everyone else is mediocre


    ¡­ and Tristan sucks. Like, he¡¯s by far the worst.


    ¡°Something you¡¯re not good at?¡± I ask with surprise as he gets another gutter ball and narrows those beautiful gray eyes of his on thene. He nces over at me, but I¡¯m grinning. ¡°That¡¯s a shocker.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never bowled before,¡± he says, and the grin falls right off my face.


    Now I¡¯m just gaping at him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never been bowling before?¡± I choke out, and then I find myself smiling again. ¡°Well, there¡¯s a first time for everything, right? You¡¯ll get better at it.¡± Tristan stares at me like I¡¯m insane, and then steps back so Lizzie can take her turn.


    Her engagement ring sparkles as she picks up a gold colored ball.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never let loose enough to try something like bowling,¡± she says, stepping forward, and prepping for her throw. She gives a slight smile before exhaling, focusing those amber eyes on the pins, and then releasing the ball like a pro. ¡°Strike!¡± Lizzie squeals and bounces up and down, throwing her arms around Tristan¡¯s neck.


    He looks like he¡¯s just been gut-punched.


    I feel like I¡¯ve just been gut-punched.


    Lizzie pulls back, blushing, and then pushes some dark curls away from her face. She nces my way, but I pretend not to notice. Inside, my stomach is all twisted up with angst.


    ¡°Letting loose isn¡¯t in my vocabry,¡± Tristan says finally, and I cringe slightly.


    Having sex in a publiF bathroom sure seemed like letting loose, I think sourly, not sure why I¡¯m suddenly so worked up about it. Or in a janitor¡¯s Floset on the first day of sFhool. My attention drifts slightly to Lizzie as Zayd makes his way up to thene. Did she and Tristan ever ¡­ and if they did, do I really want to know?


    Her amber eyes meet mine, and I flush.


    ¡°Ah, fuck a bunch of hairy goat balls,¡± Zayd groans as his ball bounces into the nextne. He slides his palms over his face while Iugh, smearing his eyeliner just enough that it gives him that sexy rocker look. ¡°This game is harder than it looks.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting curse,¡± I say with a smallugh, covering my mouth and trying to ignore the anxiety that the Lizzie/Tristan thing gives me. She¡¯s retreated back to the bench to sit next to Zack, but the King of Burberry Prep is still staring at me with those unnerving gray eyes of his. They¡¯re the color of gravestones, aged and worn beyond his seventeen years, and full of so much more emotion than the stone they¡¯re made of it.


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m an artist,¡± Zayd purrs, and there¡¯s just something about the way he talks that tells the whole world that he can sing. One day, I¡¯d like to see him live. I bet he¡¯s a real treat to watch. For a split-second there, I feel a sting of guilt over what I did. But then I remember the trophy, and how I wore his red dress, and then ¡­


    I exhale and shake out my hands.


    I¡¯m working on forgiveness here, not grudges. What¡¯s the point of holding one? Take the actions you need to take, and move on. These blue-blooded Idols needed to learn a lesson; I taught it to them. Now, I let it go.


    The girls, on the other hand, are a whole different story. School starts in just a few days; I have to be ready.


    ¡°Okay, sir artiste,¡± I joke, hefting my own ball from the track and licking my lower lip, ¡°watch and learn how a pro does it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so going to regret that,¡± Zayd chuckles, folding his arms over his chest. When I throw a re back his way, he lifts one tattooed hand and


    waves itzily at me. ¡°Go on, Miss Bowling Expert Extraordinaire, and let¡¯s see these pro moves.¡±


    I scoff and turn back to thene, doing this dramatic little run thing before I chuck the ball and watch as it warbles, twists, and then knocks over one single stupid pin before disappearing.


    ¡°Honey soaked beeswax balls,¡± I curse, and Zayd howls withughter. Damn, I missed thatugh. He¡¯sughing so hard he¡¯s bent over at the waist.


    ¡°Beeswax balls?! That¡¯s your idea of cursing?!¡±


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s better than hairy goat balls,¡± I grumble, collecting my ball, and pausing as Zack steps up beside me. He raises his dark brows.


    ¡°Want some pointers?¡± he asks, and my heart starts to beat like crazy. I nod, and hees up behind me, putting his big hands on my hips and making me shiver. He guides me to a specific spot, and then shows me how to hold the ball, where to ce my fingers. ¡°Since you¡¯re the birthday girl, I¡¯ll help you throw this first time. After that, you¡¯re on your own.¡± He stands behind me, sliding his fingers along my right arm before leaning over my shoulder to brush a light kiss to my right cheek.


    I almost melt right there in front of everyone.


    Instead, I exhale and shudder as Zack helps me throw the ball in just such a way that I actually pick up a spare.


    ¡°Holy crap,¡± I blurt, grinning as I spin around and find him still standing way too close to me. We look at each other a moment before I duck past him and take up a spot on the bench between Miranda and Andrew. Seems like the sa


    fest spot in the room, to be quite honest.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.

 170

    We finish our game, and Zack just narrowly beats Windsor.


    It¡¯s all fun and games until the prince loses, and I see his jaw clench. There¡¯s a sh of darkness in his gaze that I recognize from when he tried to get me to nt drugs on Tristan, or when he was talking to me during Ben Thresher¡¯s arrest. He notices me watching, and instead of denying it, he walks right up to me and leans in to whisper in my ear.


    ¡°I told you I was a bloody, awful wanker,¡± he whispers, and then he nibbles my earlobe. I¡¯m so startled that I jump, and fling my hand up to cover my ear. I end up smacking him in the face, and he groans, covering up his mouth, shoulders shaking withughter. When he moves his hands, there¡¯s a bit of blood. ¡°I think I just cut my lip on my tooth.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I groan, but Windsor justughs some more and excuses himself to clean up in the bathroom while the rest of us gather around a table


    to eat burgers from a huge stack on a silver tter, fries from dozens of red and white paper trays, and sodas from cups with the bowling alley¡¯s logo printed on the side.


    This is about as far from the luxe nature of Burberry Prep as one could get.


    Conversation is light, shallow, but nice.


    I think we¡¯re all still trying to get a feel for how to interact with each other.


    By the time the cakees, it¡¯s not quite so awkward, and I realize as I pass Creed a paper te with a big slice on it that I¡¯m actually having fun. Honestly, this may be one of the best birthdays I¡¯ve ever had. I even forget about Jennifer for a while, standing in the corner like an outcast. This time, it¡¯s not me that¡¯s the social pariah here: it¡¯s her.


    Dad gifts me another sentimental object that makes me weepy: a big, beautiful frame he welded, filled with pictures of the two of us, starting from the day I was born, and including one for each birthday thereafter. I¡¯m so happy with the gift, but at the same time I¡¯m terrified.


    He thinks he¡¯s dying.


    I don¡¯t want to consider it.


    I tear into the other gifts to find-not surprisingly-a plethora of ridiculously expensive items, like a bottle of Clive Christiansen Imperial Majesty perfume that costs a whopping twelve grand per ounFe. Miranda gifted me with that one. I almost choke and die when she sprays me with it, like watching dor bills misting in the air around me. To be fair, it smells delicious.


    The pile of fancy gifts-shoes, clothes, jewelry, a new suitcase (Andrew must be tried of seeing my ratty duffel bag year after year), and other assorted items-sits at the end of the table as I pick up Windsor¡¯s small, ck satin envelope.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a little thing,¡± he says, resting his chin in his hand, his hazel eyes glittering as I tear up the p to find ¡­ a key on a glittery pink PrinFess keychain. My eyes narrow at the same time my heart thumps like crazy. Pretty sure my hands are shaking, too.


    ¡°Princess?¡± I say, and he justughs, gesturing for me to dig around in the envelope.


    Inside, there¡¯s a pink slip for a car with my name on it.


    My eyes widen, and then I¡¯m standing up and racing outside.


    There¡¯s a rose-gold fucking Maserati convertible with a bow on the hood. ¡°Windsor,¡± I start as Dades sprinting out behind me. His jaw drops


    when he sees the car. I turn to look at the prince, standing there with his hands in his pants pockets, his red hair sticking up in the front like it always does. He¡¯s smiling pleasantly, like he¡¯s happy I¡¯m excited, but also like it¡¯s no big deal. He also has this ¡­ I don¡¯t want to say smugness, but self- satisfaction, like he wanted to make sure he had the biggest gift, and gets off on it, too. Hmm.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Miranda coughs. ¡°You one-upping asshole.¡± Thisst part is mumbled under her breath, but I hear it anyway.


    ¡°I can¡¯t ept this,¡± I whisper, looking between him and the car.


    ¡°You can¡¯t?¡± he asks with a small, faux frown. ¡°That¡¯s too bad. I had to special order this color. I can¡¯t return it.¡± He smiles at me, and there¡¯s something not quite so perfect about that expression, an almost sloppy sort of grin that I like. I bite my lower lip and squeeze the keys against my chest. ¡°Just one ride in it, and then I¡¯ll sell it on eBay?¡±


    ¡°One ride,¡± I whisper, turning to look at Charlie. He¡¯s still gaping, probably trying to figure out how much the car costs. My guess: more than our rented house is worth. ¡°Is it okay if I take it for a spin? I mean, just once because I can¡¯t ept a gift thisvish ¡­¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± Dad starts, and then lifts his hands in surrender. ¡°Why the hell not?¡±


    Grabbing Miranda and Andrew by the hands, I drag them down the steps and head over to the convertible, running my hand along the shiny rose-gold paint. Holy Frap, holy Frap, holy Frap.


    ¡°Drive slow!¡± Dad shouts out. ¡°And wear your seat belts!¡±


    During the summer, Ipleted my required driver¡¯s training course, took the test, and passed. This girl now officially has her license.


    I push my seat forward, so Andrew and Miranda can climb into the back. Windsor doesn¡¯t even open his door, just hops over it. He leans forward, snatches the giant white bow off the hood, and slumps back in his seat.


    ¡°How much did this cost?¡± I whisper, as I start up the car and Zayd¡¯s band, Afterglow, starts ying. Grinning, I turn it up, and give the others a little wave before backing out of the space. I Fannot keep this. It¡¯s too muFh. It¡¯s too extravagant a gift for a friend to give. ¡°No, wait, don¡¯t tell me. Just


    ¡­ sell it and make a donation with the amount.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make a donation to wherever you want in the amount I paid for the convertible, if you keep it.¡±


    Windsor is dead serious, leaning against his door and watching me, the wind tousling his red hair.


    ¡°But ¡­ why?¡± I ask, just before we pull out of the parking lot. I¡¯m aware Miranda and Andrew are listening, but I can¡¯t help it. ¡°Why did you get this for me?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Windsor echoes, like I¡¯ve lost my mind. He looks baffled as he reaches out and frees a piece of hair that¡¯s stuck to my glossy lips.


    ¡°Because you deserve it, mdy.¡±

 171

    The first day of my third year at Burberry Preparatory Academy begins with a long car ride, as usual. What¡¯s unusual about this time is that I¡¯m driving myself. In the Maserati that Windsor bought me. Don¡¯t get me wrong: I feel like an asshole riding in such an expensive vehicle, but the prince did make a generous donation to my favorite charity. Plus, it¡¯s rude to refuse a gift made with thoughtfulness.


    All of that and ¡­ I wanted to keep it. Does that make me selfish?


    ¡°You are the least selfish person I¡¯ve ever met,¡± Miranda deres from the passenger seat, and the prince murmurs his agreement from behind her, most of his attention focused on his phone. Miranda sounds almost indignant about it, her white-blond hair whipping about in the wind as we take the coastal highway south toward the academy.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    She and Creed-along with the others-stayed in Cruz Bay thest two days, but unlike the others, neither Windsor nor the Cabot twins has a car. After I sunk Creed¡¯s Bentley Bentayga, he was not given a recement. Kathleen Cabot is a harsh mistress. And Windsor ¡­ I can¡¯t forget the way his face looked in the rear-view on the way to Royal Pointe; he either can¡¯t or doesn¡¯t want to drive.


    Tristan has a brand-new ck Aston Martin Rapide while Zayd¡¯s in a Jaguar convertible identical to the one I dumped in the pool. Zack, of course, has his McLaren, and Andrew has his Lambo back. I have no idea what


    Lizzie drives, but I¡¯m guessing I¡¯ll find out, considering she¡¯s now going to Burberry with us.


    My stomach turns over with anxiety, but I ignore the feeling. I¡¯m not going to alienate a friend because I¡¯m jealous over a boy I¡¯m not sure either of us even wants or could reasonably have.


    Creed leans forward, putting his mouth far too close to my ear. I can smell his clean soap and freshundry scent as he drawls out his words like he¡¯s half-asleep.


    ¡°You truly are quite selfless, gifting your attention to idiots like Zack Brooks and Windsor York.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even get started,¡± I warn him, sensing something biging from Creed Cabot. He¡¯s going to ask you out. That¡¯s what Miranda texted mest night, and then with severalughing emojis, #TeamCreed.


    Gulp.


    If he asks me out, what am I going to say? It¡¯s too soon, sorry buddy? Or


    ¡­ yes, please?


    A groan escapes me that makes him chuckle. His warm breath teases my skin, and I identally press down too hard on the gas, making all four of us grunt as our bodies press back into the sumptuous white leather seats. I slow down a little, mindful of Dad¡¯s nervousness. He didn¡¯t want me to drive today, but I promised I¡¯d be safe.


    I intend to keep that promise.


    After a few pit stops for food and bathroom breaks, we arrive in the visitors¡¯ lot, park, and get out to change into our uniforms. The others aren¡¯t too far behind us-we did sort of a caravan thing-and then it¡¯s a bit like a fashion show as each boy emerges in his third year uniform.


    I pretend the drool in my mouth is from the cold French fries I¡¯m chewing on, but that¡¯s not entirely true. Ie very close to wiping grease and salt off on the fresh pleats of my brand-new ck id skirt, and admire Zayd from the corner of my eye.


    Within hours-or maybe minutes-he¡¯ll be all wrinkled and disheveled which, of course, is part of his charm. But seeing him in a pressed, creased uniform,plete with jacket and tie, is a real treat.


    Third years wear ck and red id skirts (boys wear ck cks with a subtle red pinstripe), crisp white shirts, matching id ties, and red jackets. Sock choices are the same asst year-white with stripes on the top-or ck id socks in thigh-high, knee-high, or ankle-high options. Shoes are


    shiny and ck, as always, but this is the first year that a very small kitten heel option is allowed for girls only (genderism is still a verymon practice at Burberry, unfortunately). Miranda says anyone who doesn¡¯t pick it is mercilessly made fun of, but that¡¯s no surprise: the Plebs and Bluebloods alike at Burberry Prep love to pick on others, regardless of reason.


    ¡°Are we ready?¡± Tristan asks, straightening his already straight tie and staring at me with te gray eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m, uh, neck deep in French fries,¡± I choke out, hopping off the trunk of my new car and wiping vigorously at my fingers with a cluster of napkins. Tristan makes a disgusted sound in his throat and sweeps across the white rock of the parking area, whipping a handkerchief from his front pocket, and sping my hands in his.


    My heart races as I look up at him, and he carefully wipes my fingers off with slow, sensual motions.


    Is he ¡­ Fleaning my hands off or hitting on me? I wonder as he takes on this task with the same single-minded purpose in which he tackles his coursework. My chest feels tight, and I¡¯m having trouble catching my breath.


    ¡°Here, keep it.¡± He tucks it into my palm, and steps back, sighing as he opens his leather bookbag and removes a fresh ck silk handkerchief, folding it meticulously, and cing it back in his pocket.


    I gape at it.


    ¡°You keep extra handkerchiefs in your schoolbag?¡± I ask, stifling augh. He gives me a dark look, and then pauses as Lizziees out of the bathroom, dressed in her new uniform.


    She¡¯s a fucking vision.


    My eyes move from her to Tristan, but he¡¯s as stone-faced as always and gives nothing away.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± Lizzie asks self-consciously, brushing her hands down the front of the red jacket. ¡°I¡¯m so used to the Coventry Prep uniform that I feel out of ce.¡±


    ¡°You look great,¡± Zack supplies, his fingers tucked into the pockets of his cks. He says that to her while his dark eyes are focused on me.


    ¡°We need to walk in there as a group,¡± Tristan says, addressing everyone like he truly believes he¡¯s the king. Windsor leans his shoulder against the brick wall of the restroom, smirking. His expression says that for now, he¡¯ll


    let Tristan lead, but only because it¡¯s convenient. As soon as it¡¯s not, there¡¯s going to be a war between those two.


    ¡°Are we on ignore mode still?¡± Zayd asks, cocking his pierced brow. ¡°Because that didn¡¯t exactly go over wellst time.¡±


    Tristan makes a sound in the back of his throat and scowls while Creed moves up to stand beside me.


    ¡°No. We¡¯re at war. When we walk the halls, they move. When we want the elevators, they get lost. We eat at the Blueblood table. We control the school.¡±


    ¡°And if they don¡¯t ept that?¡± Andrew asks, his voice strained. ¡°Then what? Don¡¯t forget: Greg and John, Harper and Becky, they¡¯re dangerous. This is bigger than just who sits where, or who gets to use the Gallery. I¡¯m scared. Maybe you¡¯re not, but me, and Marny


    e, and Miranda ¡­ we could be targets.¡±

 172

    ¡°That¡¯s why we stick together at all times, pairs at the very least.¡± Tristan straightens out the rich red Burberry jacket with the little crest on the pocket, and then takes up the lead, heading for one of the idling academy cars. The driver opens the door, and Tristan steps aside, letting me slide in before he does. Pretty sure I hear Zayd grumble about that, and I smile.


    The leather sticks to the backs of my thighs, and I realize then that I¡¯m sweating. I¡¯m nervous. And not just about Harper and her cronies, but ¡­ about the boys, too. Are they going to betray me again? Because being here in this car with all of them feels kind of ¡­ good.


    ¡°Remember,¡± Tristan whispers as the car rolls down the gently sloping hills that surround the school. I look up at him as ambient conversation from the others fills the inside of the limo. ¡°You¡¯re an Idol now.¡± He reaches over and adjusts the ne I¡¯m wearing, making my cheeks flush.


    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly Idol material,¡± I say, giving a slight smile. Tristan frowns and looks away, out the tinted windows towards the forest beyond the hills. Everything he does is so dramatic. I¡¯m not even sure he means to be that way; it¡¯s just his natural personality.


    Tristan is silent for the remainder of the drive, but the rest of my new friends are pretty chatty. Their talk helps calm my nerves a bit.


    ¡°You got this,¡± Zayd reassures me, winking before he climbs out of the limo with his bookbag thrown casually over his shoulder. Miranda follows behind him, then Creed, Andrew, Zack, Lizzie, and Windsor. Tristan and I


    arest, and I¡¯m happy to see that the courtyard with the stag is empty when we walk up the steps toward the fountains and the surrounding towers.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do breakfast,¡± Tristan says casually, and we make our way into the chapel building and down the hall toward The Mess.


    It¡¯s strange, being back in these halls after everything that happened at Royal Pointe, and the Hamptons, and my birthday party. Surreal, almost. My palms are sweaty as I cling to my bookbag and follow the group inside the dining hall.


    I breathe a sigh of relief as we walk in and find that special table, the one up on the dais, empty.


    We all squeeze around it together and take up our menus while Mirandaments theck of coffee, mumbling under her breath about Ms. Felton being a caffeine Nazi.


    ¡°Coventry Prep has catered buffets for every meal,¡± Lizzie exins, sitting on Tristan¡¯s right. I¡¯m on his left, next to Creed. He¡¯s leaning back in his chair like he¡¯s ready for a nap, but his eyes are intense,ser-focused on me as I pretend to peruse the menu.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask finally, turning to look at him and most definitely not thinking about the hot tub. I mean, why would I? What purpose would that serve? No, my cheeks are not red at all. ¡°Why do you keep staring at me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to figure out how to ask you to be my girlfriend,¡± he drawls with all the confidence and nonchnce of the idle rich, and all the color drains from my face.


    ¡°What?!¡± Miranda shrieks from across the table. I feel faint and dizzy all of a sudden, like I may very well do a face-nt into the fancy white te with the gold leafing that¡¯s in front of me. Visible tension rises in the other boys-even Andrew. But that¡¯s when I realize he¡¯s the only one not looking at me and Creed. Instead, he¡¯s staring at the door.


    My attention swings that way, only to find Harper, Becky, and Ileana, a sea of Bluebloods behind them. They make straight for us, and the tension in our little group shifts.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Tristan asks as they approach the table. Harper¡¯s the only one to climb the few steps up to stand directly beside us. Without hesitation, she reaches out and shoves Windsor¡¯s water ss over and into hisp. He lets it happen, and turns to her with this look that promises future pain.


    ¡°This is our table. Bluebloods eat on the dais. You should know: your great-grandfather invented the tradition of the Idols. Rules are rules, Vanderbilt. You¡¯re not exempt from them because your name¡¯s on half the buildings.¡±


    ¡°Idols have to possess a special je ne sais quoi, Harper. There has to be something about them that makes them stand out from the rest of the crowd. Money, good breeding, looks, connections, or somebination thereof.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    She snorts and interrupts Tristan before he gets a chance to finish.


    ¡°Well, we all know you don¡¯t qualify on that first ount.¡± The Bluebloods snicker behind her, and my hands curl into fists. I don¡¯t know why. Thest person in the world I should be standing up for is Tristan William Vanderbilt, but I can¡¯t seem to help myself.


    He continues on as if Harper didn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°You might tick a few boxes, but you¡¯re petty, pathetic, and you walk a fine, fine line when ites to ying by Club rules.¡± Tristan shakes his napkin out with a snap and ces it carefully in hisp, his blue-ck hair shimmering in the glow from the sconces behind him. ¡°You¡¯re so pathetic that even though your family¡¯s blood money would wet the Vanderbilt coffers, I simply can¡¯t stand your presence, let alone your touch. You¡¯re nothing but the granddaughter of a man who built his fortune on the broken back of this country¡¯s changing healthcare system. Now, get the fuck out my sight before I really get angry.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have shit to back you up,¡± Harper snarls, her hair long and dyed a honeyed blonde. It¡¯s so thick and full and pretty, I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s got human hair extensions in. Long ones, too. Her glossy new hair goes all the way down past her breasts. My hands ache to cut it all off. How satisfying would that be? To get her not once but twiFe. ¡°You think you¡¯re an institution? Guess what? The money your family made from being railroad tycoons is over. Finished. Dried up. William is going to ughter you for breaking our engagement.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. And you¡¯ll never be taken seriously because no American aristocrat worth their weight in salt wants to marry you. I can get any girl at the academy if I wanted.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Harper snorts, but Tristan¡¯s face is already twisting into a cruel smile.


    ¡°Really? Because I¡¯ve fucked every one of your friends but you, and that shriveled trollop you call a best friend. Imagine that.¡± Harper¡¯s blue eyes go


    wide, and she swings her arm at the table, knocking dishes to the floor.


    ¡°Get up from our table.¡± She turns her gaze to me. ¡°And get that whore off of my chair before she leaves one of her peasant diseases on it.¡±


    ¡°Harper, get fucked,¡± I snap, tossing my orange juice in her face. Her cronies are up the steps in an instant, and all the boys are rising from their chairs, legs scraping across the floor. There¡¯s a bit of a standoff there where Zack and John Hannibal are in each other¡¯s faces, and Windsor is clutching a knife like he might stab Gregory Van Horn in the neck.


    The doors open again and in walks Ms. Felton.


    She pauses when she sees us all up in arms, and frowns.


    ¡°Is everything okay in here?¡± she questions, her voice stern and usatory. A long moment passes before Windsor very carefully and purposefully puts the knife back on the table and spins to face her with a huge smile on his princely face. There¡¯s a darkness flitting behind his gaze that I don¡¯t miss though. Like I said, Windsor York is dangerous. As much as I like him, I¡¯m going to have to keep an eye on him, too.


    ¡°Just splendid, bloody fantastic. These folks were just exining to us how lovely the scrambled eggs are.¡±


    ¡°Of course they were,¡± Ms. Felton says with a tired sounding sigh. ¡°Alright, anyone who¡¯s not eating at the big table needs to find a seat elsewhere.¡± Just then our waiter appears and startsying out the dishes we ordered. Creed is the first to sit back down, slumping into his chair like a boneless doll. A sexy, muscr doll with ice-blue eyes who just asked me to be his girlfriend, but ¡­ still.


    We all take our seats as Harper leans in and hisses at me.


    ¡°You are so fucking dead, Working Girl,¡± she snaps, eyes zing.


    ¡°Harper du Pont,¡± Ms. Felton warns, and Harper turns to go, only to trip on Wind¡¯s outstretched leg. She goes down hard, tumbling right off the dais and onto the floor where her jaw hits with a resounding crack and a lot of blood. ¡°Oh my God!¡± Ms. Felton is there an instant, helping Harper up along with Becky¡¯s assistance.


    It all seems like an ident, so nobody gets in trouble, but I meet Windsor¡¯s eyes from across the table and I know. That was no ident at all.


    Right now, all I can do is eat my French toast, butter, we¡¯re going to have to have a talk.


    No, not just us: everyone.


    Because if they¡¯re going t


    o y my game, they need to know my rules.

 173

    Drama and gossip. That¡¯s what makes up the entirety of my first day back. I¡¯ve never been the subject of so much hate and so much awe at the same time. Pair that with Lizzie¡¯s arrival on campus-she¡¯s practically a legend here already-and the disruption in the usual social hierarchy, and it¡¯s virtual chaos.


    We have another small stand-off at the Gallery, but this time, Harper and her people get there first and quite literally barricade the door, so we can¡¯t get in. After the confrontation in The Mess, the staff is watching us, so we end up sitting in the front row of the chapel instead, colored light filtering in the stained-ss windows and bathing the crowd in brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges.


    By the time it¡¯s all over, I¡¯m copsing on my bed and covering my head with a pillow. I¡¯m so tired that I fall right asleep and don¡¯t wake up until it¡¯s time for ss the next morning, bolting out of bed with a start to run a brush through my hair, fix my makeup, and take off down the hall to homeroom.


    Miranda and Tristan are waiting to escort me, and we meet up with Zayd and Windsor on the way. Creed and Zack are in a different homeroom together, while Lizzie and Andrew are in another.


    ¡°Have you given much thought to what my brother said yesterday?¡± Miranda whispers as we leave Tower One and head toward our statistics ssroom, the boys trailing slightly behind us. She sounds half eager and half nervous to hear my answer.


    My cheeks flush, but I shrug my shoulders. Between my new schedule yesterday, and all of this drama with the Plebs and the, uh, ex-Bluebloods, I didn¡¯t have a ton of time to think about what Creed did or didn¡¯t ask. He said he was thinking about how to ask me to be his girlfriend. He didn¡¯t actually ask.


    ¡°Not particrly,¡± I hedge, but then we¡¯re slipping into Doctora Meisch¡¯s ssroom, and we both go silent. Doctora Meish seems really cool so far, but also a little bit scary. We¡¯ve only had one ss together and already we know that she used to work for, like, the Brazilian FBI or something. Also, she has several doctorates, so instead of calling her Mrs. Meisch, she¡¯s DoFtora, the Spanish word for doctor.


    Tristan¡¯s the only one who shares this ss with me and Miranda, and we all take seats together right in the front. None of the ex-Bluebloods are in statistics with us. Why bother? When ites to college, they¡¯ll all either have legacy bonuses (extra points on their application for having family members who attended) or money to get them into the alma mater of their choice.


    Me, I have to work my ass off to get into my chosen university, so if it means taking one of the most difficult math sses at Burberry Prep then I¡¯ll do it.


    Right after this, Tristan and I have calculus. No rest for the wicked.


    We don¡¯t talk much, but at least I have a study buddy this year that cares as much about schoolwork as I do. Why, exactly, he cares as much as he does is a mystery to me. Clearly, his father¡¯s putting pressure on him to be the best, but there¡¯s something more. Maybe ¡­ Tristan actually likes to learn, to seed on his own merit?


    My tongue itches to ask him why: why did you try to sabotage mest year? I was so disappointed in him, even when I hated him. So why? Eventually I¡¯ll get up the courage to ask. For now, I just work through the first two sses of the day, thank the heavens that we get through lunch without confrontation, and enjoy the rtive ease of my English ss in the afternoon with Lizzie.


    As soon as I get to my locker however, Zack is there, putting his palm against the metal and leaning down to look at me with the most intense brown eyes known to man.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he says, as Creedes jogging up to stand beside us. And when I say it¡¯s weird to see Creed Cabot jog, I mean it¡¯s really weird. He can


    barely walk most of the time,zing his way along the halls with an entitled air of superiority. Right now, he just looks pissed and red-faced, like he ran all the way over here.


    ¡°You son of a bitch,¡± he spits as Zack leans down and kisses me hot and fast on the lips. He pulls back and leaves me breathless, reaching up with his left hand to cup the side of my face.


    ¡°I know I said I don¡¯t deserve you, and I don¡¯t, but ¡­¡± He sucks in a sharp breath, closes his eyes, and then exhales before he opens them again. ¡°I can¡¯t watch him make his move, and not say anything.¡± My heart gives this big, triumphant little thump, and I bite my lower lip. ¡°He wants you to be his girlfriend. Well, so do I.¡±


    ¡°Zack Brooks, you are a grade-A piece of shit.¡± Creed¡¯s mouth is thinned into a t line, and his hands are curled into fists. He shakes them out, and then exhales, reaching up to undo the top two buttons on his shirt. He¡¯s not wearing his jacket-unsurprising-and his clothes are all gently wrinkled, this very purposeful disheveled dishabille that¡¯s part of his charm.


    ¡°I ¡­¡± I start, but then I just lean my back against my locker and squeeze my bookbag against my chest. ¡°Holy shit.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Miranda asks, appearing from around the corner with Andrew by her side. Lizzie steps up beside them, eyes flicking between Creed, Zack, and me.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on,¡± Creed drawls, sauntering forward and putting his own palm on my locker, so that both Zack and him are standing in much the same position. Both of them too close, both of them with their own, unique but tantalizing scents. ¡°Is that Zack here has decided he wants to move in on my girl.¡±


    ¡°Your girl?¡± I choke out with a smallugh. ¡°Since when?¡±


    Creed¡¯s face hardens, but he¡¯s focusing all of that intensity and cruelty of his on Zack.


    ¡°You saw us in the hot tub together. You know the chemistry we have.


    Back off, Brooks.¡±


    I groan and cover my face with my hands, but Zack just snarls right back at Creed.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Marnye could do so much better than you,¡± he says, and I nce up from between my fingers to see that he¡¯s shaking. ¡°Better than me, too, but I at least have to tell her how I feel and throw my hat in the ring. I¡¯ve already


    told her that I¡¯m in love with her, but now I¡¯m extending an invitation. Marnye, be my girlfriend.¡±


    ¡°You told her you love her?¡± Creed asks, sounding perplexed. ¡°When?¡± ¡°Guys.¡± My voicees out clear and authoritative, and both boys nce


    down at me, their gazes burning. ¡°It¡¯s only the second day o


    f school, and I can¡¯t breathe.¡±

 174

    ¡°Why can¡¯t you breathe?¡± Zayd asks as he swaggers up to us, his tie missing (he probably got a mark for that from Ms. Felton), his sleeves rolled up and showing off his glorious collection of tattoos. He reaches up to muss around with his fiery orange hair as he looks between the three of us.


    ¡°We¡¯ve both just asked her out,¡± Zack deres, pushing off the locker and standing up straight, his letterman jacket on his broad shoulders. He has football practice three times a week now (has been having practices in Cruz Bay since before school even started), so he probably can¡¯t stick around too much longer. He won¡¯t be able to have dinner with us until the season¡¯s over. And even then, only until track and field starts.


    ¡°You asked her out?¡± Zayd sputters as Zack moves around us and heads toward the back door and the golf carts waiting to drive him and the other boys out to the field. In about two weeks, I¡¯ll have cheerleading practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Since I tried outst year, I don¡¯t have to go to tryouts this time, but until Coach Hannah is done choosing new recruits, I¡¯m off the hook. Maybe she¡¯ll actually feel confident enough in us this year to let uspete?


    ¡°Yeah, so ¡­ if you were nning on it, you¡¯re a littlete.¡± Zack shoulders Zayd out of his way, and the rocker boy sneers, flipping him off and mumbling a string of dark curses under his breath. The way he looks at me after that scares me a little. If he asks me out next ¡­


    ¡°All of this posturing and the she¡¯s mine, I love her, so on and so forth bullshit, it¡¯s entirely useless.¡± Windsor is just there suddenly, leaning casually against a stone column like he¡¯s been there all along although I swear he¡¯s just materialized.


    ¡°Oh, is that so?¡± Creed snaps back at him, running long fingers through his white-blond hair. ¡°And you¡¯re the proverbial expert?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re terrible people, all four of you. Why on earth would someone like Marnye want to date any or all four douchebags who bet against her heart and her life? Hmm?¡± He stands up and saunters over to us, pushing red hair off his forehead with his palm until it sticks straight up. ¡°Shall we shelve this


    conversation forter? Harper¡¯s already spreading the word about a party on Friday.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯ll be crashing it,¡± Tristan says, appearing from down the hall. He pauses, narrowing his gray eyes as he senses the tension in the group. Or maybe he just notices the look on my face. One part shock, one part confusion, and the rest ¡­ excitement? ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I asked Marnye out,¡± Creed drawls, slumping back against the lockers and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks out at Tristan from heavy, half-lidded eyes and smirks. ¡°So did Brooks.¡± Tristan stares at Creed, and the tension between the two of them is thick and toxic. They¡¯re stillpeting with each other, even if they¡¯re notpletely aware of it.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Tristan echoes, his voice as cold and gray as the stones arching above our heads. He stands there, all perfectly tailored and put-together, but there¡¯s a tightness in his jaw that he can¡¯t hide. ¡°Is that so?¡± He turns his sharp attention from Creed to me. There¡¯s so much in that gaze that it feels like my knees might buckle. ¡°What did you have to say about that Marnye?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say ¡­ if you guys are fucking with me again, I won¡¯t just let you hang yourselves with your own rope; I¡¯ll braid some new shit. Miranda, walk me back to my room?¡± I nce over and find my bestie gaping at me before she nods abruptly and scurries over to take my arm. Just before we go, I take in the small group with a stern sort of stare, ignoring the fluttering hormones in my heart for the time being. ¡°Friday, after school, my room. We


    need to have a little chit-chat.¡±


    Dragging Miranda along with me, I head down the hall, and the boys watch me go.


    After a minute, Lizzie jogs to catch up with us.


    Miranda scowls at her a bit, but she¡¯s never told me if there¡¯s anything more to her dislike of Lizzie than the bet. To be fair, it was an awful, awful thing to do, but I¡¯m not entirely sure that¡¯s it.


    ¡°Are you ¡­ excited?¡± Lizzie queries, peering into my face as we walk. ¡°Or angry. I can¡¯t quite tell.¡±


    ¡°No, because you¡¯ve barely spent any time together in person,¡± Miranda snaps, and I give her a questioning look. ¡°What? She enrolls in Burberry, and suddenly she¡¯s one of your buddies? Have you forgotten what she did to you?¡± Lizzie cringes beside me, but she doesn¡¯t argue. ¡°I saw you annihte Zack in front of the entire school. He got kicked off the team. Granted, I don¡¯t think it was enough, but how has she paid for what she did?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± The anxious little butterflies in my belly take flight and reveal a whole host of raw nerves I didn¡¯t realize I had. ¡°It¡¯splicated.¡± I invited her to Hookup Point so she¡¯d see that Tristan was engaged, and then I notiFed she was hurting so bad that I Frossed her name off the list.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll tell you what¡¯s notplicated: I don¡¯t trust Lizzie Walton, and I never have, not since we were kids.¡± Miranda pauses in front of my door- somebody¡¯s already spray-painted The Brothel onto the front of it, how creative-and stamps her shiny ck kitten heel on the stone floor like a child. She¡¯s a sweet, genuine sort of person, but sometimes it¡¯s pretty damn obvious how spoiled she is. ¡°Hell, I didn¡¯t trust her when we were in diapers.¡±


    ¡°Miranda,¡± Lizzie starts, putting her hands up in a cating gesture. ¡°I¡¯m only here to help. I transferred here to help.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Miranda spins to me and puts her hands on her hips. ¡°Did she tell how Tristan, Zayd, and Creed used to follow her around like puppies during the summer? But then she got interested in Tristan, and couldn¡¯t bother giving her other friends the time of day. Creed was heartbroken.¡±


    ¡°Miranda, stop,¡± Lizzie says, curling her hands in her id pleated skirt. ¡°That was a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°She dated all three of the Idols-Tristan, Zayd, and my brother for a whole season in the Hamptons.¡±


    ¡°That was years ago!¡± Lizzie finally snaps, raking her fingers through her dark curls. A weird thought urs to me, a text from first year that I¡¯d assumed was a typo. If I had any other FhoiFe, I¡¯d still be with them. Lizzie had sent that to me. Holy ¡­ crap. ¡°I¡¯m engaged to Marcel now.¡±


    ¡°You look like you¡¯d rather choke on that massive rock on your finger than marry MarFel Stone.¡± Miranda makes a gagging sound and rolls her ice- blue eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t lie and pretend you came here just for Marnye. You¡¯re lonely, and you¡¯re still in love.¡±Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Lizzie flushes pink and starts to stutter. Miranda steps forward and Lizzie takes one back.


    ¡°You seem to have outgrown your fascination with Zayd and Creed, but the way you look at Tristan ¡­¡± Miranda clucks her tongue and turns back to me. ¡°I hope you know that if you¡¯re interested in Tristan Vanderbilt, that you have directpetition. She¡¯s ying the good girl now, but it won¡¯tst.¡±


    ¡°Miranda,¡± I blurt, feeling my own cheeks color pink. Lizzie looks at us both for a moment with her face scrunched, turns, and takes off down the


    hall. ¡°What was that all about?¡± I say, a little flustered. I¡¯m not sure if Miranda was just revealing a truth to me I didn¡¯t want to acknowledge, or if she was on the attack.


    Unlocking the door, I step aside so she can pace into the room. There¡¯s no point standing out here alone. We might be safer as a pair, but if Harper brings her whole crew with her, we¡¯re in big trouble. Actually, now that Lizzie¡¯s run off, I figure I¡¯ll have to walk Miranda back to the Towers and get a pair of the boys to escort me back to my room.


    ¡°She¡¯s a snake in the grass,¡± Miranda deres, lifting her chin, looking very much like she deserves to be standing in this fancy prep school. I¡¯d never guess new money. No, she looks like an aristocrat. ¡°Tristan either wants to use her because she¡¯s Idol material, and everyone knows who she is, or else he¡¯s still in love with her, too. But don¡¯t trust her, Marnye. Don¡¯t.¡± Miranda lifts her shirt and points at the bare skin on her right hip. ¡°I am the only one who isn¡¯t in that stupid fucking Club. I¡¯m the only one looking out for your best interests.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t trust any of them, do you?¡± I ask, and she shrugs, dropping her shirt with a sigh.


    ¡°Andrew, maybe. Windsor.¡± She looks away as I set my bookbag on the edge of the bed.


    ¡°Creed?¡± I question, and Miranda grimaces like she¡¯s in pain, turning back to face me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust anyone when ites to you,¡± she says, and I blink a few times in surprise.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The next thing Miranda Cabot does shocks the hell out of me.


    She steps forward, skirts swirling, white-blond hair flowing ¡­ and then she grabs me by the face and kisses me. There¡¯s no time for me to react before she pulls back, and we both hear a sound at the door. I guess Miranda didn¡¯t close it behind her, and we look to see Creed standing there with his blue eyes wide, mouth open in shock.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say anything,¡± Miranda whispers, hitching her bag a little higher on her shoulder. ¡°In fact: don¡¯t say anything. I have to go.¡± She moves to the door, pushes past her brother and takes off down the hall. Creed looks torn between going after her and staying there to gape at me.


    ¡°What the ¡­ ?¡± I start, putting my hand to my mouth. I¡¯m so shocked, there are no words.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Creed curses, grabbing the handle of the door. He looks right at me. ¡°Lock this when I go, please.¡± He ms it behind him and leaves me alone to contemte what just urred.


    I barely manage to get the deadbolt in ce before I¡¯m sagging onto the edge of my bed and then falling back to cover my eyes.


    Yep.


    I knew it.


    Th


    ird year ¡­ is going to be the hardest one yet.

 175

    The rest of the week is awkward and strange. Our little group is not adjusting well to being the new Bluebloods of Burberry Prep. Instead, Miranda will barely look at me, Zack and Creed look at me too much, and Lizzie is so quiet, I forget she¡¯s there sometimes. Tristan is ¡­ well, Tristan. And Zayd and Windsor are chummy, maybe too chummy. Andrew¡¯s the only normal one in the bunch.


    We are going to get our asses handed to us by Harper, I think as she res at me from across our history ssroom. Thest few days have been quiet, but I doubt the party tonight will be.


    ¡°Just give me the word, and I¡¯ll have her killed,¡± Windsor whispers, leaning in close. He¡¯s sitting on my right while Zayd slouches in his seat on my left. We just got teamed up for a group project, and I imagine that I¡¯ll be doing most of the work. Or, at the very least, I¡¯ll be in charge of whipping these two into shape. Windsor¡¯s already made it quite clear that he¡¯s got enough money tost a hundred lifetimes, and couldn¡¯t care less about his grades. He says he might go to college for fun, but only if he gets in without much effort. Zayd is pretty adamant about a career in music, so ¡­ it¡¯s only me that¡¯s really got a vested interest in doing well.


    ¡°Hrious,¡± I say, narrowing my eyes, but the thing is, with Windsor York, I¡¯m not entirely sure he¡¯s joking around. He¡¯s a freaking prince, like an actual member of the British royal family. He¡¯s rich as hell, and he¡¯s the only student at this school that¡¯s a billionaire in their own right.


    If he wanted to turn sour, things could get bad-and quick. I nce over at him, smiling softly to himself, his hazel eyes just slightly narrowed as he studies Harper, Valentina, and Abigail as they use their academy issued iPad for research. The way he¡¯s staring, it¡¯s like when crocodiles sit beneath the surface of the water with just their eyes sticking out, searching for prey.


    The chapel bell rings, and we all stand up.


    ¡°Meeting in my room, now.¡± I give Windsor a look and he grins.


    ¡°You see, this is why I like you. Little American girl ordering a prince around. Won¡¯t you put me out of my misery and marry me already?¡±


    Zayd bristles beside me, but surely he knows that Windsor¡¯s joking. ¡°What¡¯s the meeting about?¡± Zayd asks, but I just make a little zipping


    motion with my fingers, and give him a tight smile. He raises his pierced brow at me, emerald eyes sparking with curiosity, but he gives in and follows me and Windsor outside and along the little winding gravel path that heads back toward the chapel building.


    I use my keys to let us into my dorm room, ignoring the various items shoved up against my doorjamb. I don¡¯t even look at them anymore. Instead I keep one of the wastebaskets from my room near the door and scoop everything into it. If there¡¯s something useful-like an unopened box of condoms-I keep it. Sorry, but I¡¯m not ashamed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make some tea while we wait,¡± Windsor says, heading into the kitchte and opening his special cab. Seriously, second day back at the academy, and I got a knock on my door from the school courier, delivering a massive chest full of loose leaf teas, strainers, cups, saucers, teapots, and tiny spoons. There were doilies in there, and when I questioned him about it, he just grinned and said his great-grandma made them for him.


    It took me a whole day to realize that his great-grandmother is the literal Queen of Ennd.


    ¡°vor preference?¡± he asks, pointing at Zayd with a silver teaspoon. Like, I mean, I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s a real silver teaspoon. ¡°I know Marnye likes English breakfast with two lumps of sugar, and a generous dash of cream.¡± He grins, and winks at me, and for some reason, I blush.


    ¡°Tea?¡± Zayd asks, like he¡¯s beyond confused. ¡°The fuck would I want tea for?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s the nectar of the gods,¡± Windsor warns, frowning at Zayd. ¡°If you¡¯re a tea virgin, I know just the right profile to whet your appetite.¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure, whatever,¡± Zayd says, looking a bit skeptical. He still seems so ufortable in my room though the shame he carried around for the entirety of second year is gone. Our eyes meet, and I wonder if he¡¯s thinking about that red dress I wore to the graduation g. It¡¯s still in my wardrobe, sparkly and pretty and in desperate need of another night out. ¡°What are you going to tell Creed and Zack?¡± he asks, his voice tinny and unnatural. It¡¯s such a different tone from his usual rockstar purr that it catches my attention. ¡°Why?¡± I ask, thinking about the end of first year. Part of me had really and truly believed we were going to be an item, that I could fall into his inked arms whenever I was having a hard day, that he¡¯d kiss my hair and tell me everything was going to be okay. Now, I know he couldn¡¯t break the Infinity Club bet, even if he¡¯d wanted to, but ¡­ there must¡¯ve been another way to handle that situation. He didn¡¯t have to hurt me like that, break me,


    humiliate me. ¡°Does my answer matter to you?¡±


    Zayd exhales and looks up at the stone ceiling above us, reaching up and putting his palms over his face. His sleeves are pushed up like always, covered in rubber bracelets, and his jacket has little pins all over thepels. A big one with the words Inked Pages and a watercolor guitar catches my attention. Underneath it, he¡¯s got one with a snowboard on it that says Kings of Snow. Both of those names sound vaguely familial, but I¡¯m not exactly a pop culture expert so the references escape me.


    ¡°Well?¡± I realize that I¡¯m quivering slightly as I wait for his answer. I can¡¯t decide if it¡¯s because he smells so damn good-like geraniums, sage, and tobo-or if it¡¯s because he definitely added in some extra workouts over the summer. My eyes can¡¯t stop tracing the rounded shape of the muscles in his upper arms, the way his inked skin ripples in his forearms as he drops his hands to his sides. ¡°And don¡¯t lie to me. I¡¯m sick of being lied to. It doesn¡¯t make me feel protected: it pisses me off.¡±Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°You want me to be dead honest, huh?¡± he asks, dropping his head and looking right at me. My heart clenches tight, and I nod. Zayd steps forward and puts his beautiful tattooed hands on my hips. We¡¯re standing so close together that I have to tilt my head back to look up at h


    im. ¡°I¡¯m pissed-off.¡±

 176

    ¡°Why?¡± It¡¯s the only word I can manage, forcing myself to swallow past the tightness on my throat.


    ¡°Because you picked me, and I fucked up. You could¡¯ve been mine, and there¡¯s no chance for me now.¡± Zayd slides his right hand up to the small of my waist and gives a little squeeze before he steps back with a sigh. I¡¯m


    about to say something-really, I¡¯m not even sure what because my mouth moves faster than my brain-when Zayd turns back and grabs me suddenly.


    With his left hand, he cups the side of my face, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. There¡¯s a new tattoo on the side of his neck that says Never Again that looks fresh. I¡¯ve only just noticed because we¡¯re so close.


    ¡°I wanted you before they did,¡± he says suddenly, dead serious. He¡¯s looking right into my eyes with his bright green ones, and there¡¯s so much emotion in that gaze that I can¡¯t bear to unpack it all. ¡°They hated you, and I liked you. From moment one, when you told me to get fucked, I was into you.¡±Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I did not say get fuFked,¡± I whisper, ¡°I told you to go to hell.¡±


    Zayd grins, nice and sharp, teasing his lip rings with his tongue for a second.


    ¡°You really did, huh? Do you know how often that happens to me?¡± ¡°Since you¡¯re a bit of an asshole, all too frequently would be my guess?¡±


    Zayd snorts, and shakes his head, leaning down and putting his forehead up against mine. My eyes close of their own ord, and I sigh. Even after everything he¡¯s done, it feels good to touch him like this. Why? I¡¯m not a masochist or a glutton for punishment. Maybe it¡¯s because I feel like he¡¯s actually learning from his mistakes?


    Do not underestimate how sexy that is, a person who can actually admit to their wrongdoings and try to make things right.


    ¡°Girls never turn me down,¡± he whispers, rubbing his thumb across my lip. For some reason, I decide to bite down on it, and his eyes go wide.


    ¡°Sometimes they do,¡± I whisper back, reaching up to take his hand and push it away.


    We step apart, but I know I¡¯m not the only one with a throbbing pulse because I can see Zayd¡¯s racing, just underneath that new tattoo of his. He watches me carefully, a slight smile on his lips.


    His expression doesn¡¯t turn sour until Wind appears between us, brandishing teacups.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt-that looked awfully sensual-but here.¡± He gestures with the dishes, and they clink merrily. I take my cup and saucer, watching as Zayd epts his reluctantly. A minuteter, there¡¯s a knock on the door, and Windsor opens it so the others cane in.


    Zack notices right away that something¡¯s going on between me and Zayd, and he sighs, making himselffortable against my headboard. While the


    Idols (and Lizzie) look like they¡¯re tiptoeing around and perching on the edges of furniture, the others are perfectlyfortable, reminding me who my friends werest year when I really needed them.


    And then ¡­ there¡¯s Myron Talbot. Hees in with Tristan and then leans against the wall near the door. I¡¯m not at all sure about him, but then again, I¡¯m not sure about much these days. The one thing I do know is that I¡¯m not going to let this awkwardness between us all continue any further. And I¡¯m definitely not going to keep letting Windsor mete out vignte justice.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make a pot,¡± Wind mumbles, making himself busy in the kitchen. I think he has a hard time staying still, to be quite honest.


    Miranda¡¯s snuggled up in the corner of my bed, but she¡¯s still being weird as hell. Unconsciously, I raise my fingers to my lips, and she notices, blushing like crazy and looking everywhere but at my face. Creed scowls, and turns away, too, crossing his arms over his chest as he slouches on the end of the bed.


    Tristan is standing stiffly on the opposite side of the door from Myron, while Lizzie perches on a stool with Andrew beside her.


    ¡°Thanks foring,¡± I say, exhaling and trying not to sound too formal. That¡¯s my go-to thing when I get nervous: formality and historical facts. Right now, my instincts insist that I exin to the group why the floors in Tower One are made of chestnut but patched with mahogany (it¡¯s because there was a chestnut blight that began in the early 1900s that effectively wiped the tree out, so it¡¯s hard toe by).


    ¡°We need to hit this party hard,¡± Tristan begins, taking over naturally. He doesn¡¯t even think about it; it¡¯s just what he does. Closing my eyes, I sip the tea that Windsor made for me, and try to ground my emotions. I¡¯ve never been the leader type. Really, if you think about it, I grew up alone and friendless, tortured in middle school, attacked in high school.


    But I¡¯m feeling kind of ¡­ bossy right now.


    ¡°This is about more than just the party,¡± I say, putting my cup and saucer aside. My back is pressed against Zack¡¯s leg, and I have the strongest urge to lean back and cuddle him like I did that day after I was attacked in the pool. I shudder just thinking about the incident, but the snuggling with Zack after was nice ¡­ ¡°We all just sort of jumped into this group out of necessity. Pretty much everyone here has unresolved issues with someone else.¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack starts, but I wave my hand and stop him from talking, reaching into the drawer on my side table and pulling out my real journal- Creed¡¯s facial expression tightens-which has the list inside of it, both the old one and the new one.


    To start off, I hand it to Zack.


    ¡°First off,¡± I begin as I let my gaze scan the room. ¡°There¡¯s not going to be anymore awkwardness. There¡¯s nothing wrong with expressing your feelings to someone, so long as you don¡¯t expect or demand anything in return. We¡¯re all still friends here¡±-there are a few snorts from Zack and Windsor but I ignore them-¡°and I¡¯m ¡­ not going to choose anyone just yet.¡± I swallow hard and lift my chin, ncing briefly back at Zack, Miranda, and Creed behind me. ¡°So let¡¯s just keep going. Harper and her cronies are bullies, and we need to take the school back from them.¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t the only bullies,¡± Miranda mumbles, but I forge on. Basically everyone in this room has been a bully at some point. Well, it¡¯s not going to happen anymore, not on my watch.


    Zack already knows about my revenge ns, and my rules, so he quickly passes the notebook to Miranda who nces briefly at it, and then hands it over to Creed. Hiszy gaze sharpens up quickly as he scans the pages.


    ¡°What are you proposing?¡± Tristan asks, brow crinkling slightly as Windsor passes out teacups to Lizzie, Andrew, and then him, using the teapot to fill each one. He then offers up cream and sugar be


    fore moving onto Myron and Zack.

 177

    ¡°If we¡¯re going to do this, we¡¯re going to make peace with each other. We¡¯re going to at least try to be friends, and we¡¯re going to follow my rules.¡± I pinch the notebook from Creed¡¯s hands and start with rule number one, my eyes scanning the group one more time before I decide to add: ¡°and no more lies. None. Lies are poison, and even if you think you¡¯re protecting someone with one, you¡¯re not. In the end, it always hurts worse when the truthes out.¡±


    Nobody says a damn word, but that¡¯s okay, I¡¯m ready.


    ¡°So,st year when I decided to take my revenge on you, I made a list ¡­¡±


    Harper¡¯s party is being held on a yacht, much like Tristan¡¯s party during first year when they burned that beautiful, beautiful book. I try not to think too hard about that incident because,e on, burning a handwritten J. K. Rowling masterpiece is pretty much unforgivable.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re so organized that you even organize your vengeance,¡± Zayd murmurs as we move down the beach as a unit. Tristan is in front, but I¡¯m right behind him. I think, if he were to rx just a little bit, I¡¯d be in front and he¡¯d be able to dpress a bit. Pretty sure he¡¯d enjoy it, too, dropping that heavy mantle he carries, even if only briefly.


    ¡°Are you angry?¡± I ask, because after the notebook had been passed around, and I¡¯d given my speech, the room went silent. We didn¡¯t talk much after that, pretty sure the boys are still processing what they read in my notebook. It wasn¡¯t just the list or the rules, it was the other things, my observations of their weaknesses, my own recollections of past events. There were real, true entries in there with my thoughts and feelings and heartache.


    ¡°Fuck no.¡± Zayd snorts, raking his fingers through his pumpkin-orange hair. I miss the sea green. Every time he changes it, I get nostalgic. But at least I know I won¡¯t have to wait long until the next color shift. He nces over at me with those big emerald eyes of his. Have I ever noticed how long and dark hisshes are? He¡¯s wearing eyeliner, but no mascara or anything. They¡¯re just that pretty, I guess. ¡°I mean, I wish you¡¯d taken revenge on me in some way other than getting me unsigned from mybel, but I¡¯ll survive.¡± Zayd grins to soften his words, and I smile tightly.


    ¡°That song ¡­¡± I start, and Zayd grimaces. He knows exactly what song I¡¯m talking about, the one that he ridiculed as garbage to his friends, the one I know was not put together by a ghostwriter. Zayd might be an asshole, but he¡¯s got creative integrity. ¡°You wrote it.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t argue, just purses his lips and nces up at the moon. The way the silver light makes his tattoos shimmer is priceless. He spins his right lip ring around with his tongue.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°It was beautiful,¡± I start, but Zayd doesn¡¯t look like he believes me.


    ¡°Do you really think getting on a boat with Harper and her friends is a smart idea?¡± Creed snaps, interrupting our conversation. He¡¯s clearly the most irritated at the list of weaknesses. The way he res at me through his narrowed lids makes that tantly obvious. ¡°That didn¡¯t exactly go over so wellst time.¡±


    ¡°Not everyone on that boat is her friend,¡± Tristan quips, moving up the dock without hesitation. There are two Pleb boys on the door, but they stand aside as Tristan sweeps past. When they see me, they exchange a look, but I¡¯ve got Zayd on one side, and Creed directly behind me.


    We head in without incident, the rest of our crew close behind.


    Tonight, we¡¯re just testing the waters, seeing how the other students react.


    Never underestimate the power of mob rule.


    ¡°What the fuck are you doing on my boat?¡± Harper snaps, moving in to intercept Tristan. ¡°You¡¯re not invited.¡±


    Tristan looks around, snaps his fingers, and then points right at Harper¡¯s chest.


    ¡°I see bets being made which makes this an Infinity Club party. You do not have the authority to keep me from a Club gathering.¡± He smiles at her, and I get that shivery feeling across my skin. A spider spinning his web. ¡°So get the hell out of my way.¡± He shoves past her with his elbow, and we follow along behind him, Harper¡¯s blue eyes tracking the movement of our group.


    We take the stairs and find the top deck, surrounding one of the drink tables and iming it while we gather refreshments.


    I stick with soda.


    Not only is my dad a recovering alcoholic, but I feel like I need my wits about me. Greg and John are at the opposite end of the deck, watching us. My throat closes up, and I squeeze my hands into fists by my sides.


    Windsor notices me watching, his eyes following the path of my gaze. ¡°They can both swim, can¡¯t they?¡± he asks casually, directing his attention


    to Zack. My big burly football yer friend looks back at the prince, and nods slightly.


    ¡°Last year, during the swim test, they passed.¡±


    ¡°No violence,¡± I repeat, and find myself under the intense stare of a pair of hazel eyes and a pair of brown ones.


    ¡°No violence, just a bit of fun and games,¡± Windsor says, grabbing Creed¡¯s attention. ¡°You game, mate?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m game,¡± Creed drawls, his anger focusing into a fine point. Instead of turning it on me, however, he levels it on Greg and John, two of the biggest bullies and undeniably, two of the biggest assholes in Burberry Prep- presentpany included.


    ¡°What are you nning on doing?¡± I ask, as they take off through the crowd. Zayd and Tristan exchange a look before following after, Myron trailing behind them. Miranda grabs my arm and then, when our gazes connect, she sputters a bit and releases me.


    Miranda kissed me.


    My best friend kissed me.


    What am I supposed to do with that?

 178

    I love her, but I¡¯ve never been attracted to girls like that. If I were, I¡¯d pick Miranda in a heartbeat.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± she asks finally, but I have no idea. I grab her hand and drag her along in the Idols¡¯ wake, pausing as I see them fanned out in a half-circle in front of Greg and John, forcing the other two boys to keep their backs to the railing.


    ¡°What were you nning on doing?¡± Tristan demands, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°You two, and Ben fucking Thresher, Prince of Factory Farmed fucking Chicken. Real ssy, to throw your lot in with someone who makes all their money off abused birds.¡±


    ¡°We were just ying around,¡± Greg says, holding up his hands in a cating gesture. John, on the other hand, is sneering like he¡¯s not afraid. He should be. Didn¡¯t he learn his lesson in the forestst year when he got his ass kicked by Creed?


    But I said no violence. The Idol boys-plus Wind and Zack-better not mess that up.


    ¡°Put these on,¡± Windsor says, handing over a pair of orange life vests. ¡°You¡¯re going to want them.¡±


    John snatches one from his hand, and then chucks it over the edge. ¡°Go to hell, you fucking limey piece of shit.¡±


    ¡°Limey?¡± Windsor repeats with a harshugh. ¡°Oh, you bloody idiot.¡± He grabs John around the waist, and Zack rushes in to help, pinning his hands while Zayd goes for his legs. John is screaming and thrashing, but with three


    strong guys on him, he doesn¡¯t stand a chance. Without ceremony, they chuck him right over the edge and into the water.


    John screams on his way down, and I rush over to the railing to see him disappear with a big, foamy ssh. My heart stops as I watch the ebony swells, waiting for him to pop up. A few secondster, he does, iling and cursing the boys¡¯ names before he starts a fairly impressive butterfly stroke towards the shore.


    I nce over and find Greg frantically slipping into the life vest. He might be a bully and a jerk, but he¡¯s also apparently not as stupid as John. He lets Tristan, Creed, and Myron lift him up together and dump him over the edge. He pops up much faster than John, swiping soggy hair from his face.


    Tristan leans over the railing and cups a hand to his mouth.


    ¡°If youe back, we¡¯ll dump you again. The less trash at this party, the better.¡± He turns around and scans the gaping Plebeian crowd with a simmering charcoal gaze. There¡¯s a lot of murmuring behind cupped hands, but nobody challenges Tristan. They all stay well away from us all.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, mdy,¡± Windsor starts and then pauses as I raise my eyebrows. ¡°Although really, I should say mydy¡±-he enunciates those two words nice and sharp-¡°because my diction teacher would p me with a ruler if she could hear my nonsense.¡± He waves his hand dismissively and then, surprisingly, steps forward and sweeps an arm around my waist.


    I have trouble catching my breath for a moment there, this fevered, frenzied feeling taking over me. Windsor¡¯s cheeky, and he flirts with everyone, but I¡¯ve never had him touch me quite like this.


    ¡°Was that an eptable level of non-violence,¡± he murmurs, his voice low and husky. My pulse begins to race as he leans in toward me, putting his mouth within millimeters of mine. ¡°Because holding back is not one of my specialties.¡±


    ¡°That was okay,¡± I start. Even though it was a bit more physical than I would¡¯ve generally gone for, those boys ¡­ what they tried to do to me, or pretended they were going to do to me ¡­ When I think about it, I get cold sweats. Windsor¡¯s touch helps a little.


    No. No lies. Not even to myself.


    His touch ¡­ it helps a lot.


    ¡°Good. Because thest thing I¡¯d want to do is upset you.¡± Windsor leans in and skims a kiss to my cheek, making my pulse thunder. When he pulls back, he¡¯s grinning, and I notice the other four boys watching us carefully.


    Their gazes are rife with tender feelings: jealousy, confusion, possession. I just can¡¯t right now.


    I grab Andrew by the hand, and take off, yanking him down the steps and into one of the lounge areas, so I can breathe.


    ¡°You¡¯re the only person,¡± I choke out, between panting breaths, ¡°that isn¡¯t interested in me or interested in someone I¡¯m interested in or ¡­ just in confusing.¡± I look up and find Andrew staring at me with sympathy, his blue eyes bemused.


    ¡°True,¡± he says, and then chuckles slightly. ¡°Well, okay, I won¡¯t lie, I have a huge crush on Windsor York, but my gay-dar says he¡¯s as straight as an arrow.¡± Andrew sighs wistfully. ¡°And besides that, I¡¯m already engaged ¡­¡± He nces away, his chestnut hair golden in the yellow lounge lights. It¡¯s a pce in here, with custom leather couches, a ss coffee table, and a huge statue that looks like it¡¯s ted in gold. It¡¯s beyond luxe, and it makes me hate Harper¡¯s family even more. If they can afford a yacht like this, maybe they don¡¯t need to price the epinephrine injector pens they sell so damn high. ¡°You should break your engagement,¡± I tell Andrew as I notice Lizzieing toward us through the crowd. She pauses nearby, almost hesitantly, and as I look at her, I try to decide if she really is as sweet and genuine as she seems, or if she¡¯s the greatest con artist amongst them all. ¡°You should, too,¡± I tell her, deciding that, even if she is pulling the wool over my eyes,


    I¡¯m only going to speak the truth.


    ¡°Should what?¡± she asks, stepping into our little circle. She changed into this tight, pale blue dress with sequins that makes her amber eyes pop. Me, I¡¯m just rocking the uniform. I didn¡¯t bother to change, I couldn¡¯t, not with all those boys in my room. Getting naked with just a thin door between them


    and us ¡­ it was too much.

 179

    ¡°Break your engagement,¡± I tell her, feeling this swell of pride and determination in me. I know who I want to be. I want to be the type of person that puts trust in people. I think that¡¯s possible, even without being naive or gullible. Lizzie stares at me like I¡¯ve lost my mind. ¡°You¡¯re not happy with Marcel Stone. From the little you¡¯ve said about him, and the brief times I¡¯ve seen you with him, you don¡¯t seem very excited to be engaged.¡± I nce back at Andrew, and he shrugs his shoulders.


    ¡°It¡¯s not always that easy,¡± he whispers back, and I realize then that their money doesn¡¯t give them the freedom they think it does. Their blue blood doesn¡¯t always mean the grass is greener. Charlie would never force me to


    marry someone I didn¡¯t love. And he sure as hell would never predicate his love on an ultimatum.


    Then again, I know not all families work the same. Not all families are glued together by love and trust. Some are built on money and expectations.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not easy. I bet it¡¯d make your life a hell of a lot harder.¡± I exhale and look between the two of them. ¡°You just ¡­ both seem so sad sometimes.¡± I shrug my shoulders, and then move over to the bar to grab another can of soda from a bucket of ice. I forgot mine upstairs just now, and I don¡¯t trust the other partygoers not to drug my drink. After all, Andrew did it once and seeded. ¡°Anyway, I just needed a minute.¡±


    ¡°Because of what happened to John and Greg?¡± Lizzie asks, and Andrew shakes his head.


    ¡°No, because of all those fine guys that are crushing on her.¡± He grins at me as I give him a look. ¡°What? Come on, there¡¯s not a straight or bi girl at this school ¡­ or a gay boy ¡­ who doesn¡¯t envy you right now. Five bully boys brought to their knees by a beautiful working ss girl who doesn¡¯t take their shit; it¡¯s like a fairy-tale.¡±


    ¡°Five boys ¡­¡± Lizzie starts, and then I can see her visibly gathering herself together as she forces a smile. ¡°It¡¯s true. They all have crushes on you, whether they¡¯ve said anything to you or not. It isn¡¯t just Creed and Zack.¡±


    ¡°Windsor?¡± I ask with a forcedugh. ¡°Pretty sure he¡¯s joking.¡± But then I think about the feel of his arm around my waist, and I get lightheaded. ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Yes way,¡± Andrew says, ncing over at Lizzie. She nods and gives me a sympathetic smile. ¡°And Tristan, he¡¯s practically salivating.¡±


    My eyes meet Lizzie¡¯s, but she manages to keep her smile.


    ¡°Like I told you before, anything I had with him was in the past ¡­ with any of them, really.¡±


    ¡°But you still love Tristan?¡± My heart stutters like crazy as I wait for her answer. I can¡¯t believe I actually asked that question aloud. For months now, I¡¯ve told myself it was better not to know, to just let things y out as they might, but ¡­ I need to know.


    Lizzie sniffles and then nods once, sharply.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry though,¡± she blurts suddenly. ¡°I¡¯m with Marcel now. My dad hates Tristan¡¯s dad, and vice versa. We¡¯re an impossibility.¡±


    ¡°But you love him anyway?¡± Andrew asks, tucking the fingers of his right hand into the pocket of his red academy jacket. Like me, he hasn¡¯t bothered to change.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Lizzie is staring right at me, but I don¡¯t know how to respond or what to say.


    Andrew whistles and shakes his head, pausing as Gary Jacobs passes by, his eyes following the other boy until he disappears into the hallway. There¡¯s a longing there that¡¯s echoed in Lizzie¡¯s gaze. Andrew turns back to me, like he¡¯s waiting for me to say something.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, and Andrew lifts his brows up.


    ¡°Okay?¡± he echoes, ncing over at Lizzie and then turning back to me. ¡°What does that even mean? Do you like Tristan, too?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± I choke out, because ¡­ I haven¡¯t really let myself think about that too hard.


    No lies, damn it. Not even to yourself! I repeat, clenching my hands so tight, I make little crescent marks in my palms with my nails.


    When Tristan touches me, my heart races. When he looks at me, I feel lightheaded. When he¡¯s not being a jerk to me-which is rare-I want to swoon. Do I like him? The king of the school? The ultimate asshole among assholes?


    ¡°Shit,¡± I curse, feeling my face get hot, and Andrew grins. ¡°I knew it,¡± he whispers as I cover my face with my hands.


    ¡°I like him,¡± I murmur, feeling this sensation ripple through me as it hits home. ¡°I do.¡±


    Pulling my hands away, I look back up to find Lizzie and Andrew watching me.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, really,¡± Lizzie says with a sad smile. ¡°I won¡¯t sabotage you. Like I said, I¡¯m with Marcel ¡­¡±


    ¡°Tristan likes you back,¡± I blurt, even though I¡¯m kicking myself all the while. No lies. No fucking lies. That is going to be a hard and shitty rule to follow. ¡°I can tell. He¡¯s never gotten over you.¡± Lizzie nces away and shrugs her shoulders loosely.


    ¡°Maybe, but ¡­ there¡¯s no future for us. If you like him, you should go for him.¡±


    ¡°The question is: who do you like best?¡± Andrew asks me, and I stare at him with this helpless hole opening inside my chest. Who do I like best? I have to choose?


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I whisper, and then we all pause as Zackes up to stand with us. He looks between the three of us, Lizzie and me with flushed faces, and then he raises his dark brows.


    ¡°Everything okay in here?¡± he asks, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that vibrates my bones. I love it, and I like him.


    ¡°Everything¡¯s fine,¡± I say as I exhale and try to push those feelings aside for now. Harper and Becky have just entered the room and are staring at me. I have more pressing matters to deal with, but I can¡¯t help but w


    onder who would envy me over this.


    Having five guys-maybe five, because Windsor is ¡­ well, Windsor- interested in me is not a blessing, it¡¯s a curse.


    How the fuck am I supposed to choose?

 180

    The next few weeks are packed with assignments, club meetings-why did I join so many clubs?!-orchestra rehearsals, cheerleading, and almost daily struggles between us and the ex-Bluebloods.


    The crowd on the yacht was clearly split, but intimidated as hell by the boys.


    For now, the Plebs seems content to watch. The only bullying I receive anymore is from the girls and their cronies. Everyone else is too scared to mess with me. Still, it¡¯s hard to say what¡¯s going to happen if pushes to shove. Will the general poption side with us ¡­ or them.


    ¡°Miranda!¡± I call out, racing up to her in the hall. It¡¯s already October first, and I feel like we need to do some Halloween costume nning. It¡¯s going to be hard to beatst year¡¯s macaron outfits.


    It¡¯s not like we haven¡¯t been talking, but there¡¯s clearly an elephant in the room. That kiss ¡­


    She¡¯s walking with Creed-we¡¯re still sticking to the pairs rule-and I¡¯ve got Andrew trailing along behind me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she says with a smile, and I swear, as soon as I step between the twins, I can feel the tension.


    ¡°Do you have time for dinner in The Mess?¡± I ask, and she nods. I give Creed a look, and he returns it with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. ¡°Do you mind walking Andrew back to the Towers? We¡¯ll meet you thereter, and


    you can walk me home.¡± I grin, and he nods once, briefly, before pulling away.


    The two of us head into the dining hall and then pause, looking between the empty Idols¡¯ table, and our old spot.


    Miranda and I exchange a look.


    ¡°We should probably make a stand and im the table,¡± she says, and I grin.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather sit in our spot, but you¡¯re right.¡± Miranda smiles back at me, and we climb the steps to the dais, sitting down and checking the menus briefly before ordering.


    I¡¯m trying to cut down the amount of meat I eat, so I pick one of the vegetarian recipes: cheesy Spanish stuffed rice pono peppers. Yum.


    Miranda unfolds her napkin in herp, folds it again, unfolds it. She¡¯s fidgeting.


    ¡°Can we talk about the kiss?¡± I ask, and her gaze snaps up and over to me, mouth gaping.


    ¡°No!¡± she whispers, and Iugh. ¡°Why do you want to talk about that?¡± ¡°Is that why you broke up with Jessie?¡± I ask, and she cringes slightly,


    tucking white-blond hair behind one ear. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    More silence. Our waiteres to put our drinks down: iced tea for me and lemonade for Miranda.


    I smooth my palms down the id pleats of my academy skirt.


    ¡°Things don¡¯t have to be weird, you know. Zack and Creed have asked me out, and ¡­ we¡¯re doing okay.¡± That¡¯s not exactly a lie. Things are awkward, but we¡¯re managing. I haven¡¯t stopped hanging out with them. Actually, I¡¯m hanging out with the guys more than I ever have before, even more than first year when they were trying to woo me with the bet.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have kissed you like that. I shouldn¡¯t have told you.¡± She nces my direction with her ice-blue eyes, and I smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s always worth it to say something,¡± I tell her, and I really mean that. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ not about making any decisions right now. I just want to deal with this Harper and Infinity Club stuff, and keep my grades up.¡±


    ¡°For what those boys did to you, they should let you date them all until you make up your mind,¡± Miranda says with a sigh, grabbing her lemonade and popping the straw in her mouth. They¡¯re biodegradable straws now, and dissolve in hot water. Miranda did a whole project on the environmental


    impact of strawsst year for our bio ss, and part of that was petitioning the schoolboard to make a change, which, fortunately, they did. ¡°If you aren¡¯t going to pick me,¡± she pauses and smiles softly, ¡°then at the very least, know that I am one hundred percent Team Creed.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± My cheeks flush with pink. ¡°We¡¯re not talking marriage or anything, just high school crushes.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so? Some lovests forever.¡± Miranda turns to look at me. ¡°My parents met in high school. My mom used to report my dad for smoking pot behind the school during ss, and he hated her guts. They¡¯ve been together ever since. I¡¯m pretty sure Creed thinks your his soul mate or something.¡±


    I snort, but Miranda turns to look at me with one brow raised. ¡°He mentions the hot tub at least once a week-¡±


    I cut her off by reaching over and putting my hand across her mouth.


    ¡°Do not even go there,¡± I whisper, taking my hand back. Miranda watches me carefully for a moment, ncing at the door to see if anyone else might being in. There¡¯s a group of first year girls in the far corner, but they¡¯re all huddled together, and too new to cause any trouble.


    She looks back at me.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Um, I¡¯m not sure if I should be telling you this ¡­¡±


    ¡°Miranda, any sentence that begins with I¡¯m not sure if I should be telling you this gives pretty good indication that you really shouldn¡¯t be telling me anything.¡±


    ¡°No, let me say this,¡± she continues, sighing, and reaching up to sweep some blond bangs from her forehead. ¡°Creed is going to fucking kill me ¡­¡±


    ¡°Miranda!¡± I blurt, but she nces up sharply, and I can see that I¡¯m going to hear this, whether I like it or not.


    ¡°Creed is ¡­ well, he¡¯s sort of a ¡­¡± Her voice trails off, and she curses a bit under her breath, unfolding and folding her napkin. When she goes to unfold it for the fiftieth time, I reach out and mp my hand over hers.


    ¡°Stop that.¡±


    ¡°Creed¡¯s kind of a ¡­ virgin.¡± Miranda looks right at me as she says it, stealing my breath away.


    ¡°Wha ¡­ what?!¡± I chirp so loudly that the first year girls stop talking and turn to gape at us, equal parts fear and envy in their eyes. It¡¯s such a different way than I was looked at for the past two years that I¡¯m not sure what to make of it. I reach up subconsciously and touch the opal earrings Creed gifted me for my birthday. I told myself I wasn¡¯t going to, but I looked up


    simr earrings online ¡­ and they¡¯re worth a lot. Not as much as a car, maybe, but these guys are all so rich, I don¡¯t necessaril


    y equate more money spent to better gifts.

 181

    I snort. ¡°He is not a virgin.¡±


    ¡°Yes, he is,¡± she repeats, raising both brows. ¡°I know he presents otherwise, but he is.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that ¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do!¡± she says, spilling her lemonade in her excitement. ¡°We¡¯re twins.¡± She rolls her eyes, like this should be obvious. ¡°He¡¯s a virgin. I know that for a fact.¡±From N?velDrama.Org.


    I suck my bottom lip under my teeth. I¡¯m still not entirely sure I believe her, but if that¡¯s true, then Creed is one hell of an actor.


    ¡°Why are you telling me this? And you¡¯re right: maybe it wasn¡¯t your story to tell?¡± Miranda grins, and shrugs.


    ¡°True, but I felt like you should know. I mean, I don¡¯t think any of the other four are ¡­ I just figured it might mean something to you.¡±


    I¡¯m silent for a minute, and our waiteres out with our orders. I¡¯m seriously reeling from the info, and I have no idea what to do with it. Does that make a difference? I think back to the hot tub again.


    ¡°Anyway, like I said, if you¡¯re not going to pick me, pick Creed.¡± She pauses and waits for me to say something.


    ¡°You know I love you,¡± I tell her, and she sighs, hanging her head. ¡°But not like that?¡±


    I stay silent, and we both pick up our forks to eat.


    After that, we don¡¯t mention the kiss again, but Miranda still watches me with a certain look. I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s given up yet, but I¡¯m d we had that talk.


    She¡¯s my backbone at the academy, and she¡¯s right: she¡¯s the one person here who¡¯s not a part of the Club. I feel in my heart that I can trust her.


    Everyone else ¡­ I¡¯m not so sure about.


    Creed and I start our tutoring sessions again, and it¡¯s a much more rxed atmosphere than it wasst year. Honestly, I feel like for the first time ever,


    he¡¯s actually trying. He listens when I talk, and the way he follows me with his eyes ¡­


    ¡°Miranda¡¯s in love with you,¡± he says suddenly, interrupting our easygoing Wednesday session in the library. Today, he brought me an entire stack of yaoi-Japaneseics focusing on boy-on-boy rtionships-as a gift. I reminded him thatst year, he called them gauche and rolled his eyes, but I epted the ribbon wrapped bundle anyway because there were several in there that I really want to read.


    ¡°Um,¡± I hedge, feeling color creep into my cheeks. ¡°You saw everything that happened.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s infuriating, you know that?¡± he drawls, folding his arms on the table andying his cheek on them. His eyes are so heavy-lidded right now. There¡¯s a bit of anger in his voice, but I can tell it¡¯s not meant for me. ¡°Some twin. Hitting on the girl I¡¯ve already decided I want.¡±


    ¡°Hah, you¡¯ve decided?¡± I give him a look. When our eyes meet, my stomach clenches. But, like, in a good way. He¡¯s an arrogant jerk, but for whatever reason, I still like him, thiszy, little rich boy.


    ¡°I just can¡¯t believe that she¡¯s interested in you, too. What are the chances?¡± Creed sits up and stares at me for a minute. I can¡¯t say anything when he looks at me like that. My throat¡¯s too tight. ¡°You seem to have a lot of people interested in you, Marnye Elizabeth Reed.¡±


    ¡°Tristan once called me a Mary Sue, maybe that¡¯s it?¡± Creed smiles at the joke which I find surprising. Usually just the mention of the T-word makes him frown. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m still half-convinced you guys have another bet going.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no bet,¡± Creed says, scowling. But like, screw him because I have every right to be suspicious. ¡°Nothing that involves hurting or harming you anyway.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s cryptic,¡± I reply, leaning back in my seat and giving him a look. Our knees bump together and a shiver takes over me. Creed notices and smiles nice and slow. ¡°What exactly do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°There were other bets or suggestions of bets involving you, like the one with Zack,¡± he says simply, shrugging. ¡°The one he tried to make when you crashed the party at the amphitheater.¡±


    Ah, right, the night with the knucklebones. Like that wasn¡¯t creepy at all.


    Harper du Pont really is a special sort of monster.


    ¡°Can you tell me about it?¡± I query, and Creed¡¯s smile gets even more wicked. ¡°And is there a reason you guys hate him so much?¡±


    ¡°Marnye, there¡¯s a whole host of things we could talk about, but there¡¯s only one subject I¡¯m interested in.¡±


    ¡°Creed,¡± I warn as he leans forward, and I shoot up out of my chair. Alright. I¡¯ve epted it. I have a bit of a thing for him. For Tristan. For


    Zayd. For Zack. Windsor ¡­ is just a friend, right? Or ¡­ maybe I¡¯m just scared to admit I¡¯m crushing on him when I¡¯m not too sure that he likes me back?


    Creed follows me as I weave through the aisles, heading back toward the history section and sliding the binder full of old school newspapers back on the shelf. We¡¯re in separate history sses, but we both have the same assignment: put together an essay on Burberry Prep and its rtion to politics during thete eighteen hundreds. Ugh.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he repeats, and I spin around. It¡¯s still so new to me to hear the boys call me by my name. Zayd still asionally says Working Girl, and both him and Tristan say Charity, but there¡¯s an affectionate little tint to it now that I actually like. I¡¯m all about reiming and re-purposing words.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Creed leans in close, putting his hands on the metal shelf on either side of my hips. He doesn¡¯t touch me, but there¡¯s barely a hairbreadth between us. My mind conjures up Miranda¡¯s words: For what those boys did to you, they should let you date them all until you make up your mind.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been patient,


    but on the inside, I¡¯m wasting away.¡±

 182

    ¡°Drama queen,¡± I blurt, and then after a second, ¡°drama prince.¡± Creed has always struck me as more of a prince and less of a king. And it¡¯s not because he¡¯s inferior to Tristan, it¡¯s just ¡­ he¡¯s different. If he spent less time trying to be or beat Tristan, and more time on his own endeavors, he¡¯d be a force to be reckoned with.


    Creed smirks, and I do my best not to sigh as his scent overwhelms me. He always smells so damn clean, likeundry detergent on fresh crisp cotton, hung out in the bright sun and brisk breeze to dry. Wow, Marnye, waxing poetiF muFh?


    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± He leans in close and presses a kiss next to my left eye. My body shudders, and I hear him make this satisfied male sound. ¡°I¡¯ve been on pins and needles. And you have no idea how much I want to punch Zack.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a good guy,¡± I whisper, but it¡¯s so hard to think with Creed this close to me, his uniform just slightly disheveled, the top three buttons undone and revealing just a glimpse of t, smooth chest underneath.


    He makes a small sound of acknowledgement, but that¡¯s about it.


    ¡°I want to kiss you so bad right now,¡± Creed drawls, and my pulse skyrockets. I can hear the blood pounding in my head.


    ¡°What¡¯s stopping you?¡± I whisper back, and his half-lidded eyes go wide. As slowly andzily as he does everything else, he moves his front hand from the shelf and ces it on my hip. His other handes up and he tickles beneath my chin with his long fingers. My head drops back and my eyes close as he leans in toward me.


    Our mouths brush, but just barely. It¡¯s too much of a tease, and I feel myself start to shake with all of this suppressed need, all these crazy hormones. I¡¯ve spent two years chasing after and being chased by the Idols. At this point in our rtionship, we¡¯re working on forgiveness, and trying to build new friendships.


    Before, there were obstacles in front of us every time we kissed, whether I was aware of them or not.


    But right now, there¡¯s nothing but air.


    Lifting up on my toes, Iplete the contact, my lips pressing tight against his.


    Heat sears through me, and Creed surges forward, pressing his entire body against mine. His knee goes between my legs, and his right arm sweeps my waist. My back is now pressed tight to the books, the front of my body rubbing against Creed. I can feel my nipples tighten to hard points, my core flush with warmth.


    Creed parts my lips with his tongue, tasting me, and making this rough sound that¡¯s so at odds with his insouciant personality that I¡¯m almost startled into putting my hands on his shoulders. He presses deeper into me, testing my limits, but I¡¯mpletely rxed. I want to see what happens when we kiss without restraint.


    My right hand slides down, and I slip it inside his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against my palm. He groans, and I forget for a minute that we¡¯re in the library. My handes down and I forcefully part a few more of those buttons.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he curses after a minute, turning his head away from mine. We¡¯re still all pressed together, and with my right hand, I can feel his heart


    thundering in his chest. ¡°Damn it. Why do I like you so much?¡±


    ¡°My winning personality?¡± I joke, and Creed snorts, but we¡¯re both panting and shaking. There¡¯s a tension inside of me, like a string¡¯s been pulled taut between my lips and my core. I want ¡­ more. More than this. So much more. ¡°The real question should be: why do I like you? You¡¯re a major jerk, Creed Cabot.¡±


    ¡°An insufferable asshole,¡± he agrees, turning back to look at me. This time, the heavy-lidded bedroom eyes aren¡¯t just for show. This time, I can tell he wants more, too. Creed¡¯s kind of a ¡­ virgin. That¡¯s what Miranda said. Do I believe it? Does it matter?


    Or maybe it does?


    Maybe I¡¯d rather lose my virginity to another virgin? Or am I overthinking this?


    ¡°We should get back to the project,¡± I whisper, but I don¡¯t take my hand out of his shirt.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie: I have a raging hard-on right now. I am absolutely not going back to write about crusty old white dudes.¡±


    ¡°You ¡­¡± I start, but then words just fail me. I¡¯m stuck between a giggle and a fresh bloom of lust. My eyes drift down, but Creed beats me to it by grabbing one of my hands and cing it right over the hard bulge in his crotch. I make a small sound, and he groans. When he lets go of me, I don¡¯t move my hand.


    We¡¯re both staring at each other now, panting hard, quivering with need. ¡°Marnye!¡± I hear Miranda call my name cheerfully from the study area,


    and I know she¡¯s found our stuff. She¡¯ll know we¡¯re here.


    It¡¯s like a bucket of ice water¡¯s been thrown over the two of us. Creed jerks back and turns, raking his fingers through his hair and cursing. Me, I shuffle back to the table and find Miranda leafing through one of the old yearbooks I pulled out.


    She nces up and then crinkles her brow.


    When she sees her brother close behind me, holding a book over his crotch, her brows practically go up to her hairline.


    ¡°What the hell are you two doing in here?¡±


    ¡°Discussing how you¡¯ve always copied me, even as a child.¡± Creed sweeps his bookbag up and levels a devastating re on his sister. Most people would shrink back from that look, but Miranda barely blinks. She must be used to it.


    ¡°Because I wanted my hair cut short when we were five? That¡¯s me


    ¡®always''¡±-she makes little quotes with her fingers-¡°copying you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, the first girl I¡¯ve ever truly liked and you decide to go after her, too? You¡¯re the epitome of annoying little sister.¡±


    Miranda chucks a pencil at him, and he dodges, still covering his crotch. ¡°I¡¯m ten minutes younger than you, you prick!¡±


    Creed sweeps blond hair from his forehead, in the boys¡¯ version of a hair flip. He is disturbingly good at it.


    ¡°I have to go. Try not to make-out with my future girlfriend while I¡¯m gone.¡± He moves past us, and Miranda tosses another pen at him. This one nails him right in the back of the neck, and he pauses briefly to turn another earthshaking re on her before he spins back around and gets the hell out of Dodge.


    My body is on fucking fire. Being seventeen sucks.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°What were you two doing in the shadowy aisles, hmm?¡± Miranda purrs, but I just sit down in the chair with a huff.


    ¡°Just kissing,¡± I say, but I wonder ¡­ if we hadn¡¯t been in the library, and we hadn¡¯t been interrupted, how much farther would we have g


    one?

 183

    With off-campus privileges restored, it¡¯s actually a possibility for us all to take a little trip into town together. I¡¯m so nervous when we meet in the front courtyard ¡­ until I spot Zayd pretending to hump the statue of the stag. Or maybe he¡¯s trying to ride it? I¡¯m not sure, but I¡¯m already covering my mouth to hold back a snort ofughter when I walk around to the front of the fountain.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make a bet you know you can¡¯t win,¡± Zayd crows, howling withughter as he scrabbles up onto the deer¡¯s back, and gets out his phone. It¡¯s Saturday, and I swear, it¡¯s like an electronics frenzy sweeps the school when we all get our phones back. The addiction is real. He takes several pics of himself, and then notices me standing there.


    ¡°Zayd Warren Kaiser,¡± I say, putting my hands on my hips. I¡¯ve got on tight, dark skinny jeans, red leather boots that I stole from Miranda¡¯s closet, and a tight, corset-like top with little buttons down the front. I feel good today, confident, but now that I¡¯m standing out in the brisk fall breeze, I¡¯m wondering why I didn¡¯t bring a jacket. ¡°What are you doing up there?¡±


    ¡°Uh, riding the stag?¡± he says, and then cringes when Ms. Felton¡¯s voice snaps out.


    ¡°Mr. Kaiser, climbing the courtyard statue is worth two marks. Get down from there right now.¡± She marches up to the brick half-wall that surrounds the fountain and crosses her arms over her chest.


    Zayd hops off the statue, but whatever stupid bet he just made, he¡¯s clearly won. Creed is scowling, so I¡¯m figuring he was on the opposite end of this particr bet.


    ¡°Miss Reed,¡± Ms. Felton says, noticing me standing there. She nces over at Creed and Zayd, and then pauses as Tristan Vanderbilt strolls in, dressed in ck jeans, ck boots, and a crisp ck button-down with the sleeves pushed up. I do my best not to drool. ¡°Is everything okay out here?¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s A-OK,¡± Zayd says, swinging an arm around my neck. He presses a kiss to my cheek, and I raise a brow. ¡°We¡¯re all friends now.¡±


    Ms. Felton doesn¡¯t look convinced.


    In fact, even Mrs. Amberton pulled me aside the other day to check with me. Because I work so hard to block the bad memories, sometimes it¡¯s hard to remember that the entire academy staff saw me humiliated so badly. Nobody missed the Idols throwing my panties onto the stage. Nobody.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay, Ms. Felton,¡± I reassure her. Every day I hang out with these guys, I wonder though. What would happen if they betrayed me again? What would I do? But what I¡¯ve realized now is that I¡¯m so much stronger than I was before. No matter what they do to me, I can survive it. I can thrive.


    And they better not because the second time around, my vengeance would be a hundredfold.


    ¡°Well, if you ever need privacy to discuss anything, you can see me in my office.¡± She gives Zayd a very stern look and then heads for the doors of Tower One. The Towers are so beautiful, so medieval looking, their white stone sides stretching up into the sky. Twelve floors each, and the home of every single student in the school but me.


    ¡°That was awkward,¡± Zayd says, as he takes his arm from my shoulders, and I nce between him and Creed.


    ¡°So ¡­ what were the stakes this time?¡± I ask dryly. The crossed out infinity tattoo on my hip seems to burn with hatred. I haven¡¯t even begun to work on Harper and Co. but when I do, they¡¯ll know it. I¡¯m just trying to get situated. Third year is hugely important when ites to applying for colleges. In fact, I¡¯m already preparing for that whole event, all the financial aid forms, the schrship applications (I have no problem being known as the schrship girl in college if it means I get to go), and the essays.


    By the end of this year, I need to have my schools selected, and my applications in before summer¡¯s over. It seems so strange that my entire fate rests on the decisions I make now. It could literally alter the entire course of


    my life. Seems like a heavy burden to ce on a teenager, but what do I know?


    ¡°I now owe him back the signed Gibson SG John Lennon and George Harrison guitar that I won from him in a previous bet,¡± Creed says with a sigh, and Zayd grins.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bet a trickster,¡± he says, and then lifts his phone to show me that riding the stag was not the only thing he had to do. No, he was most definitely humping it.


    I roll my eyes, and then feel a little thrill as a big, warm body sidles up next to me.


    ncing over my shoulder, I find Zack in jeans, a t-shirt, and his varsity jacket. Actually, I was just given one myself for cheerleading. That¡¯s what I should¡¯ve worn to beat the cold.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Zack¡¯s dark eyes take me in, and I shiver as a cold breeze sweeps dry leaves into the courtyard, swirling them around my feet. He notices, too, and it only takes him a split-second to shed his jacket and put it over my shoulders.


    ¡°Zack,¡± I start, but he shakes his head at me. ¡°Take it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s cold out,¡± I protest, but he¡¯s clearly already made up his mind, crossing his arms over his broad chest and staring at me until I sigh and slip my arms back into the sleeves.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± Tristan asks, as Windsor steps out of Tower Three¡¯s door and gives a little wave.


    ¡°I thought Miranda wasing?¡± I ask, but Creed shakes his head. ¡°Check your phone.¡± He points at me, and I struggle to push back


    memories from that day in the libraryst week. Ugh. I pull my phone from the little harp-shaped purse that Lizzie got me for my birthday, and take a quick nce at my texts.


    Volleyball thing Fame up! I¡¯m so sorry! She¡¯s added a bunch of crying, heart, and praying hand emojis, and I smile. Andrew already had to bow out to work on an essay he¡¯s struggling with, and Lizzie ended up paired with Myron on a science


    project they have to finish.

 184

    So ¡­ it¡¯s just me and the guys.


    We¡¯re off to the town of Lujo again to collect parts for our Halloween costumes, have some lunch, and maybe visit the bookstore there. It¡¯s one of the oldest in California, and Zack teased me by telling me about the building


    it¡¯s housed in: I guess it¡¯s both an architect¡¯s dream and a history buff¡¯s greatest fantasy.


    ¡°Are we driving?¡± I ask, feeling this little hup of excitement and nervousness. Students aren¡¯t technically allowed to keep or use personal cars without special permission, but we all do it anyway. Doesn¡¯t mean we can tantly speed off down the road. We actually applied for off-campus permits for today, so we could spend the night at the little bed and breakfast in town.


    I had no idea I was going with just the guys.


    My heart thunders, and I clutch my tiny rolling suitcase that Andrew bought me.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°I ordered a car,¡± Tristan says, fixing the cuffs on his rolled-up shirt. ¡°Parking in Lujo¡¯s a nightmare, and the hotel doesn¡¯t have its own lot.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bed and breakfast,¡± I remind him with a smile. ¡°Big difference.¡± He gives me a look, but we¡¯re interrupted by a huge white limousine pulling up curbside. The driver gets out and opens the door, and the boys let me get in first.


    I end up sitting on the far side, next to a bucket with ice and some chilling champagne.


    ¡°That¡¯s for us,¡± Tristan says with a shrug, and even though I¡¯ve seen them drink plenty, it¡¯s always surprising to me how casual they are about it. Most teenagers are content with a six pack of beer, but not the Burberry Prep brats. No, they¡¯re only content with hard liquor, champagne, and good wine. Beer is ast resort. ¡°That is, for those of us who drink. There are sodas, juice, and iced teas in the fridge.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I quip as Zayd grabs the champagne and pops the cork, making us all jump. I get a ss bottle of unsweetened iced tea, and screw the top off, wondering how Tristan¡¯s managed to get us this limo and all this stuff when there¡¯s no doubt in my mind that his dad is angry with him.


    Creed asks the question before I can.


    ¡°How did you get your dad to send a car when he so very clearly wants to murder you?¡±


    ¡°I told him I was taking Harper on a makeup date, and he immediately agreed,¡± Tristan says, checking his red and ck Rolex, the one I retrieved from the trash. He hasn¡¯t taken it off since we started school, and I suspect that has something to do with his father. ¡°She should be showing up to the courtyard right about ¡­¡±


    Tristan pushes the button for the sun roof, and it opens, spilling golden light into the back of the limo. He nces over at me and holds out a hand.


    ¡°Help me with this.¡± I take his palm, and feel a little jolt of electricity ping through me as Tristan and I both stand up on the seat, looking out the roof as the limo rolls around the circr drive.


    Harper is standing on the steps, all dressed up in a tight ck dress and heels, gaping at us. As she watches, Tristan spins me toward him, cups the side of my face, and kisses the hell out of me.


    For a heartbeat there, I forget where I am or what we¡¯re doing or why we¡¯re doing it. All I can think about is the hot taste of his mouth, the way his tongue expertly takes over the moment. He¡¯s an incredible kisser, and it¡¯s obvious he¡¯s had plenty of practice. There¡¯s something sexy about that in its own way, like I enjoy the fact that Tristan knows exactly how to take care of me.


    Zack makes a frustrated sound, and I pull back, panting. But the job¡¯s been done: Harper is furious.


    She¡¯se down the steps, and is screaming something at us that I can¡¯t quite hear. The grin on Tristan¡¯s face is truly malicious, but now that I¡¯m not on the receiving end of it, I¡¯m enthralled.


    He¡¯s got a dark delicacy to him, a sensual cruelness, that draws me in like a moth to me. I know I¡¯ll be burned, and I don¡¯t care. My wings will spark with embers, and shrivel up, and I¡¯ll fall, but that warm, dry palm will be there to catch me.


    Shit.


    I¡¯m doing it again.


    The waxing poetic thing.


    I duck back into the limo and find my seat again. Zayd leaves me alone for about two seconds before he pulls me in hisp, and I like the feel of him against me so much that I just ¡­ rx.


    ¡°That was a nice bit of revenge,¡± I say with a smile. Normally, I¡¯d never do something like that. But Harper, she¡¯s crossed so many lines. She tried to drown me in a swimming pool. Having her feelings momentarily stung is nothing inparison.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming Mr. Vanderbilt won¡¯t be pleased when he finds out this was a ruse?¡± Windsor guesses, holding a ss of champagne in one hand and watching Tristan with those bright hazel eyes of his.


    ¡°Harper won¡¯t say a word. She¡¯ll be too ashamed.¡± Tristan epts a ss from Creed and sips it, closing his charcoal gray eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he stares at me sitting in Zayd¡¯sp and his fingers tighten on the ss¡¯ stem.


    ¡°What if you¡¯re wrong about that?¡± I ask, and Tristan¡¯s face tightens slightly.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll pay dearly,¡± he says with a sigh. ¡°But that¡¯lleter. Right now, I just want to enjoy my weekend.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to be wearing a snack costume, too?¡± I ask, because Miranda, Andrew, Zack, Windsor, and I already decided on a Halloween theme: food. Popcorn, hotdogs, French fries, etc. Anything snack-y and fun. Lizzie¡¯s in, too. So is Zayd, and Miranda promised Creed would do it if she told him to.


    Tristan is the only one I¡¯m not sure about, and the only one I¡¯m really struggling to imagine in a goofy costume.


    ¡°A snack costume?¡± he repeats, and Windsorughs.


    ¡°It was Marnye¡¯s idea,¡± the prince says, grinning. ¡°I¡¯m going to purposely leak a photo of myself, so it goes viral. My mother will be pulling her hair out. She hates scandals, you know.¡±


    ¡°So you go out of your way to perpetuate them?¡± I ask, and Windsor grins.


    That¡¯s a definite yes.


    ¡°Snacks,¡± Tristan repeats, and I nod.


    ¡°You know, like you can go as a bowl of fruit, or a bag of mixed nuts-¡± ¡°Tristan loves nuts, that should suit h


    im,¡± Zayd interjects, and I ignore


    him.

 185

    ¡°-a giant cookie, a slice of pizza, that sort of thing.¡± I grin as Tristan looks at me like I¡¯m crazy. ¡°Trust me: I went as a living macaron cookiest year. It can be done tastefully. We¡¯ll find you something. Besides, you¡¯re the one who said you wanted to present a united front to the other students. What better way than dressing alike for Halloween?¡±


    Tristan doesn¡¯t say anything else, but I can see him contemting over there, the wheels and cogs in his mind spinning.


    Everyone goes quiet for a while, but I can feel Zack watching me, reading far too much into me sitting on Zayd¡¯sp.


    It¡¯s just sort of a thing he does, has always done. But when I think about it, it is kind of ¡­ intimate. I turn my gaze over to Zayd, my arms wrapped around his neck, and I find that we¡¯re really close. Close enough to kiss.


    I bite my lower lip and look away.


    Windsor breaks the tension by discussing Halloween and his ns for a party at his ce. Usually we have it at the cemetery on campus, so this would be a way to shake things up. It¡¯ll be interesting to see how many people follow us there ¡­ and how many stay with Harper.


    Ugh.


    All this political intrigue is driving me nuts. But, hey, Tristan likes nuts, right?


    I¡¯m so excited by the time we get to Lujo that I¡¯m the first out the door when it opens, practically skipping into the cafe where I went with Creed and Miranda. ording to the guys, the girls made their bet just before winter formal, so when he bought me those shoes, he knew. I push that information aside, peering into the ss and looking at the sea of pretty pastries.


    Windsor tosses his card on the counter before anyone even orders, and deres that he¡¯s taking care of the bill. It¡¯s a control thing with him, I think. Actually, I¡¯m pretty sure he wanted to know why Tristan was in charge of arranging the car because he wanted to do it himself.


    ¡°Look, a Union Jack cookie,¡± I say with a grin, pointing at the row of g- frosted cookies in the back. ¡°A taste of home.¡±Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You Americans and your cookies,¡± he says with a chuckle. ¡°They¡¯re bloody biscuits. That is a frosted biscuit.¡±


    ¡°Biscuits go with gravy. These are freaking cookies, Wind.¡± I order an eir and an iced chai from the woman behind the counter, and Windsor copies me, following me through the archway and into the side area where I satst time I was here. I choose a slightly different spot, near the firece in the back, and settle into the sofa.


    Wind sits beside me, his body denting the cushion and causing our bodies to touch.


    He reaches down and curves his fingers through mine, making my heart stutter in my chest. He touches me all the time, so it¡¯s not really that big of a deal, but ¡­ something seems different now.


    ¡°You know how I said we could date, and it¡¯d be fun?¡± he asks, and I nod. How could I forget that? ¡°I think that if you¡¯re considering one of these idiots, you should consider my offer, too.¡±


    I sit there for a minute, breathing in the smell of coffee and sugar, the faint smoky scent from the fire. Underneath it all, there¡¯s Windsor¡¯s smell, that daffodil and shoe polish scent. Such a weirdbo, but so urate. I think thetter part is because he¡¯s always wearing those leather boots of his, and they¡¯re always shined to perfection. That must be where the polish partes in. The sweet floral scent ¡­ sometimes I wonder if I¡¯m imagining it.


    The other boys filter in, and Zack puts my chai and pastry on the table while giving Wind a look.


    ¡°You¡¯d grab mine, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± he asks, his ent cheerful and chipper. He reaches up and pushes some of that beautiful red hair of his from his forehead, making it stick up like it always does. ¡°Be a mate, Zack, and help a guy out.¡±


    ¡°You can get your own fucking food,¡± Zack says, taking up the seat on my other side. Windsor flips him off, but sighs and stands up anyway. The other guys are already seated, or else I think someone might¡¯ve taken his spot.


    That wouldn¡¯t have gone down well.


    My fingers tingle from where he touched them, and I shake my hand out before grabbing my chai. It¡¯s spicy and sweet at the same time, like star anise and cardamom and vani. Ugh. So freaking good.


    ¡°You know the Lujo Pride Festival is insane,¡± Zayd says, leaning over and propping his elbows on his knees. ¡°It¡¯d be a dream to y during it.¡± He looks down at his pile of frosted sugar cookies and sighs.


    ¡°When can I meet your band?¡± I ask, and he nces over at me in surprise. ¡°I mean, you never talk about them, but you guys must spend a lot of time together, right?¡±


    ¡°Every free second I have when I¡¯m not at Burberry or being dragged around on my old man¡¯s tour bus.¡± Zayd grins. ¡°You Googled us, right? You¡¯ve seen them, bunch of assholes.¡± He pulls his phone from his pocket and passes it over, so I can scroll through pictures. About ¡­ two dozen pics in, and I get one of him shirtless in front of a mirror, abs tightened, taking a ridiculous selfie.


    I hold back a giggle and scroll over again, only to find a nude pic of Zayd.


    His, um, well, let¡¯s just be straight here: his dick is in full view. I can see everything, including the fact that it¡¯s pierced at the tip.


    ¡°Jesus, man,¡± Zack says, snatching the phone from me and chucking it back at our rocker friend. Zayd catches it, looking confused, and then nces down to see the picture. He grins big and looks up.


    ¡°What¡¯d you think?¡± he asks, and I can tell my cheeks are bright red as Windsores back in and sits down beside me.


    ¡°Your friends look really nice,¡± I say, and he shakes his head. ¡°No, I meant about my body, mostly my dick.¡±


    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± Creed drawls, draped over a chair like he owns the ce. He and Tristan exchange nces, and I grin, putting the eir in my m


    outh, so I don¡¯t have to answer.

 186

    After we¡¯re done at the cafe, we hit up just about every shop on the main street, gathering supplies for our costumes, and then hit the B&B at just about check-in time.


    We¡¯ve got a family suite which, really, is just a collection of rooms with inner doors so they can be connected. We have three rooms, one of which has a seating area, and a giant bathtub that¡¯s sort of just ¡­ in the middle of the bedroom.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, this looks scrumptious, but why is right next to the bed?¡±


    ¡°First off,¡± Zayd begins, leaping into the tub and reclining back with his ankles crossed next to the faucet. His shirt rides up in the front and I catch a glimpse of tattoos, and a sprinkling of dark hair that promises that the view I saw on his phone was not imaginary. There¡¯s really something down below that waistband. And by something, I mean his cock. My cheeks flush as Zayd continues to ramble. ¡°Did you just use the word scrumptious in a non- ironic sort of way? Second, the bathtub is in the bedroom because this is a honeymoon suite, and the bride and groom are meant to fuck in it.¡±


    ¡°So ssy, as always,¡± Tristan says, looking irritated as he returns from his perusal of the suite. I¡¯ve seen him swipe a finger on the top of a picture frame to check for dust, and then sigh dramatically. Personally, I think the little bed and breakfast is adorable. ¡°Let¡¯s make sleeping arrangements.¡±


    ¡°Me and Marnye in here,¡± Zayd says, but there¡¯s just a single king bed in this room, sooo that¡¯s not happening. ¡°And then two of you in each of the other rooms, one per bed. Done and done.¡±


    ¡°How about ¡­I sleep alone in here, and you guys take the other beds.¡± I cross my arms over my chest and stare both Zayd and Tristan down.


    ¡°I¡¯m not bunking with any of these pricks,¡± Zayd scoffs, leaping out of the tub and grabbing me behind the legs and around the waist to sweep me into his arms. I squeal as he spins us around, and tosses me onto the bed. I bounce for a brief second before he¡¯s covering me with his body, and pinning my arms at the wrists. ¡°I¡¯d much rather stay in here with you, Charity.¡±


    ¡°No chance,¡± I whisper back. Knowing logically that Zayd is teasing me is one thing, but having him on top of me like this is ¡­ quite another altogether. We look at each other, and I can tell that I¡¯m not the only one that feels it. A muscle in Zayd¡¯s cheek ticks, and I find it suddenly hard to breathe. We can both feel the tension. Hell, we¡¯ve felt it since day one. The first moment weid eyes on each other, I knew I had chemistry with the asshole rockstar boy.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    Zayd groans and rolls off of me, but the damage is done. My heart is pounding, and there¡¯s a bead of sweat running between my breasts.


    ¡°There¡¯s a pull-out bed in the couch,¡± Zack says from the other room, and I can hear hinges squeaking as he unfolds it. Sitting up, I pad out to the seating area and watch him start to make the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep here. It¡¯s better than having to share a bed with his majesty.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t pissed the bed in years,¡± Windsor deres, throwing open the curtains and looking down at the creek that runs behind the property. He nces back at Zack with a huge grin. ¡°Althoughst time we slept in a bed together, I woke up with your hard-on stabbing me in the leg.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Zack snorts, as Creed narrows his blue eyes.


    ¡°When did you two ever sleep in the same bed?¡± he asks, flopping into one of the chairs and kicking his brown Barker ck boots up on the coffee table. Windsor turns around slowly, a cruel smile etching its way across his mouth. Sometimes I feel like being in a room with these guys is like standing in a pit of snakes. There¡¯s so much damn venom, and I¡¯m always waiting for one to strike.


    ¡°When we slept with Marnye on thest day of second year,¡± Windsor says, as if that¡¯s the most natural thing in the world.


    ¡°You mean when you slept next to Marnye,¡± Tristan spits out, his voice like ice. He sounds pissed, and I can¡¯t help but nce over at him. ¡°Nobody believes either of you had sex with her, so don¡¯t even with the innuendo.¡±


    ¡°And if I had, would that infuriate you?¡± Windsor challenges, tucking his hands into the pockets of his white cks. He¡¯s got a white button-down on with short sleeves and a subtle pinstripe, and those glossy ck boots he always wears, like he¡¯s about to go riding.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t,¡± Tristan says, his voice a sharp sh in the suddenly tense air of the sitting room. Creed¡¯s blue eyes take it all in with a hint of eagerness, like he¡¯d truly enjoy watching the two of them beat the crap out of each other.


    ¡°Who Marnye does or doesn¡¯t sleep with isn¡¯t any of your business,¡± Zack growls, interrupting the other two boys. ¡°So leave it alone, and screw off.¡± Tristan sneers, and I can just see the evening going straight down the toilet.


    I step into the middle of the room.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± My voicees out hard and sharp, and they all turn to look at me. My heart is pounding so fast right now that I¡¯m just praying I don¡¯t pass out. ¡°You guys can¡¯t keep fighting; it¡¯s not fair.¡± I exhale, and run my fingers through my hair. I look around, and for once, they¡¯re all quiet. Pretty shocking if you know anything at all about any of these guys. They¡¯re basically all alpha males. Tough crowd. ¡°It¡¯s confusing to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Zack says, and if he didn¡¯t sound so genuine, I¡¯d just think he was kowtowing to me. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± He sits down on the edge of the couch bed with a small sigh. ¡°You don¡¯t deserve to deal with this shit after all the crap we put you through.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ know you¡¯re interested in dating,¡± I tell him, feeling my cheeks heat. I turn my gaze over to Creed. ¡°And you.¡± Breathe, Marnye, breathe. ¡°But what about you, Zayd?¡±


    He¡¯s standing just outside the door to the bedroom, looking at me with bright emerald eyes. His hands are tucked in his pockets, and he closes his eyes on the end of an exhale.


    ¡°I fucked up so bad with you Marnye,¡± he whispers, his voice so husky and raw that if he were to stop and record a song right now, the emotion would be so real it¡¯d probably make people cry. ¡°I was interested from day one. I told you that.¡±


    ¡°Are you interested now?¡± I whisper, struggling to make the wordse out. There¡¯s so much tension, it¡¯s making my skin feel achy and ti


    ght.

 187

    Zayd looks me dead in the eye.


    ¡°I¡¯m interested. Seriously fucking interested.¡± Creed makes a frustrated sound, and Zack scowls.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    I turn to Tristan then. He¡¯s standing in the doorway next to me. We¡¯re so close I can see his pulse thundering. On the outside, he looks calm. But I can tell it¡¯s all a facade. He¡¯s boiling on the inside.


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡± Tristan responds, cool as a goddamn cucumber, his de gray gaze cutting into me.


    ¡°Are you interested in me?¡± It¡¯s so freaking hard to get those words out, to ask a question I¡¯ve honestly been wondering about for almost two years. I want to hear him say it. My mind briefly strays to Lizzie, but ¡­ I need to know how Tristan feels, regardless of what happens after.


    He puts his hand on the doorjamb above my head and leans in close. ¡°Haven¡¯t I made that obvious?¡± he asks, a smirk twisting on his full lips.


    His hair is so goddamn beautiful, blue-ck strands that shift gently across his forehead.


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡± I stay firm, even as he puts his left hand on my hip, and presses his thumb into my pelvic bone, making me gasp. ¡°Yes or no.¡±


    Tristan stares at me for so long that I wonder if he¡¯s even going to reply at all. But then I remember that moment in Paris, outside the Eiffel Tower. There was so much tension, and his face was so soft, almost gentle. He was going to say something to me before Windsor interrupted us, I know he was.


    I remember their argument in French, and wish I¡¯d picked thenguage of love instead of Spanish and Japanese. Part of me knows there¡¯s something in that conversation that I would¡¯ve wanted to hear.


    ¡°A good follow-up question would be: do you still love Lizzie, and if so, how do your feelings for the Walton girlpare to your ones for Marnye?¡± Windsor saunters forward, fully aware that he¡¯s throwing a wrench in the cogs of this conversation. I could kill him in that moment.


    Tristan¡¯s face shadows over, and he sneers, turning toward Windsor like maybe he¡¯ll start a fight that won¡¯t end without bloodshed. I could see the two of them going to the death with blows. I put a hand on his chest and step between them, turning a look on the prince.


    ¡°What is your problem, Wind?¡± I snap, feeling my anger and frustration bubble to the surface. He really is a bully of bullies. Like, that¡¯s his thing,


    and I can¡¯t decide if he¡¯s hanging out with me because that¡¯s what he likes to do or what. Everything he says and does is a big production, a joke. ¡°Why are you making this harder than it has to be?¡±


    He¡¯s still smiling as he steps toward me, putting us toe to toe.


    ¡°It was a valid question: Tristan loves Lizzie, Lizzie loves Tristan. So what happens to you, Marnye? I don¡¯t want to see you get hurt.¡±


    ¡°I believe that,¡± I say, feeling this tightness in my chest. ¡°But I also know that you¡¯re socially aware enough to not bring something like that up in a moment like this. You keep joking about how we could date and have some fun together, but I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re joking or if you¡¯re serious or-¡±


    Windsor York, the prince of fucking Ennd, sweeps his arm around me and pulls me close so fast that I don¡¯t have time to finish my sentence. Instead, I find his fingers on my chin and his mouth pressing up against mine.


    His tongue traces my lower lip before diving into my mouth, lust and passion swirling through his touch and into me. There¡¯s suddenly so much tension between us that I can barely breathe. No, not barely, I can¡¯t. I don¡¯t breathe. How could I when he¡¯s kissing me like he¡¯s been waiting his entire life to find me?


    There¡¯s no teasing in this kiss, there¡¯s no joke.


    There¡¯s nothing but intent, clear and sharp. It¡¯s in the way he holds me, touches me, kisses me. Ardent fire swirls through my blood, poisoning me against the world. There¡¯s nothing I want more in that moment than him, than my very own fucking prince.


    He pulls back suddenly, with a flourish, like always, sliding his fingers from my chin and up my jawline, touching my hair.


    ¡°Mdy, I¡¯m very much interested.¡± He grins, but there¡¯s a heat to it now that either I just missed before, or he did a damn good job hiding. ¡°You¡¯re so


    ¡­ very much everything I never knew I wanted. You hate money. You hate assholes. You don¡¯t take shit. Darling, let me make you a princess.¡±


    ¡°Stop that,¡± I choke out, because now I¡¯m certain he¡¯s joking again. I push away from him, and he lets me go, watching with glimmering hazel eyes as I press my back to the wall between him and Tristan.


    The king of Burberry Prep is not a happy little ruler in that moment. ¡°You son of a bitch,¡± Tristan snarls, and Windsor grins.


    ¡°Son of a princess, actually. Great-grandson to a queen. Let¡¯s get that part right at least. You might be ¡®American royalty''¡±-Wind makes derisive little


    quotes with his fingers-¡°but I actually am royalty.¡± He smirks. ¡°Tenth in line to the throne, prestigious enough to be important, but not close enough to it that anyone cares what I do. I have my own money, my own life. If I want to date a poor, American girl, I can. What about you? Are you even allowed to like Marnye?¡±


    Tristan steps forward, and then he turns to look at me. To his credit, he controls the angry sneer on his face, and cools his expression, flicking his tongue out to lick the edge of his lip as he looks me over.


    His eyese to rest on my face, and then he¡¯s turning to me, grabbing me by the hips and setting me on the edge of the sofa table. He brings both hands up and tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling me in for another kiss.


    Seriously, at this point, my mind is gone, spinning away into oblivion. I¡¯m just a ball of


    emotion with no logicality left.

 188

    That harsh yearning inside of me spirals into a crescendo as Tristan sweeps my mouth with his tongue. His kiss is as sharp and cold as he is, but it¡¯s threaded through with white-hot molten fire. If I can melt that outer steel of his, and dig down to what lies beneath ¡­ he¡¯d be a fucking firestorm. His fingers grip my hips on either side, digging in just enough that it both hurts and feels good at the same time.


    I¡¯m reminded of winter formal, and that night on the boat. ¡°Just remember that Creed isn¡¯t the only one that¡¯s interested.¡± The way he kissed me then, and the way he¡¯s kissing me now ¡­ are the same.


    It wasn¡¯t all bullshit, was it? The way I felt like I belonged when we all sat together at the table? That was real. It was real. It was fucking real.


    Tristan pulls back, and puts his forehead to mine, breathing hard.


    And then he jerks away like he¡¯s been burned, storming across the seating area toward his room.


    He¡¯s running away.


    ¡°Stop.¡± Just that one word from me. I don¡¯t even have to shout it. The meaning is clear enough in that single syble.


    Tristan pauses and nces back at me, pupils dted, the gray of his eyes burning like barely banked embers.


    ¡°What?¡± He sounds like he¡¯s about to snap. He definitely needs time alone to dpress, that¡¯s for sure. But not until he answers my question.


    ¡°Are you interested? A kiss isn¡¯t an answer. I want to hear it in words.¡± I lift my chin and Tristan turns around, nostrils ring with anger. He closes his eyes and nces away like he¡¯s in pain.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already taken on my father¡¯s wrath for you, forsaken my family fortune, isn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Not an answer.¡± My heart is beating so fast, and I can feel the other guys watching me carefully. I stare him down and I wait. Lizzie isn¡¯t far from my mind in that moment, but all I can do right now is start here, with a simple answer to my question. If he is interested in Lizzie, that¡¯s a choice he¡¯ll have to make on his own. If he cares about her then ¡­ he has to decide that. I can¡¯t force him.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Just that one word.


    It feels like a challenge.


    ¡°Shame. I was looking forward to a Fhallenge.¡±


    He said that to me, once upon a time, the very first day we met. Looks like he¡¯s going to get what he wanted.


    ¡°The five of you ¡­¡± I start, still sitting on the edge of the sofa table. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to fight for me if you want me. But not with fists or bets or bullshit. I mean you¡¯re going to have to let down your barriers, and spend time with me.¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack starts, voice soft, but I hold up my hand. I¡¯m not done. My cheeks are ming with embarrassment, and my body¡¯s on fire in a way it¡¯s never been before. If I don¡¯t get this out now, I won¡¯t be able to.


    ¡°For what you¡¯ve done to me,¡± I give Windsor a semi-apologetic nce. Technically he¡¯s done nothing but be a friend to me. The thing is, I know, I know he has ulterior motives. Nothing he does is pure and simple or without calction, so I¡¯m sorry, but he¡¯s going to have to y along, too. ¡°For what you¡¯ve done to me,¡± I repeat, ¡°you¡¯re all going to ¡­ have to court me at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Court you?¡± Zayd says with a small, tight grin. ¡°So old-fashioned.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to have to date me, at the same time, all five of you.¡± I


    exhale, close my eyes, and lean my head back against the wall. I need ¡­ something to dpress from all of these emotions. I lift my head and open my eyes, scanning their faces. Their emotions range from bemused- Windsor-to cold fury-Creed-and everything in between. ¡°No other girls.¡± My voice gets hard on thatst bit. ¡°I mean it. If I see you with another girl-¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t touched another girl since first year,¡± Tristan says, and my eyes go wide. He was a bit of a slut. Do I even believe what he¡¯s telling me right


    now? ¡°So that¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t care. Anything else?¡± He¡¯s all business right now, but ¡­ maybe in a good way? He sounds like he does in ss, like he¡¯s taking notes and figuring out the best way to get an A, to win.


    ¡°I ¡­¡± I start, but my mind is going totally nk. ¡°No, I think that¡¯s it. We date, and we do ¡­ whatever we¡¯d do if we were just dating each other. That¡¯s ¡­ that¡¯s all I¡¯ve got.¡±


    I jump down, sprint into my room, and lock the door behind me.


    I only stand there long enough to catch my breath before I change into my swimsuit, throw on a robe, and head downstairs to the pool.


    It¡¯s ice-cold when I jump in, but it clears my head. That¡¯s all I need right now, a clear head.


    And the equivalent of a cold shower. A very cold shower.


    Later that night, I¡¯m lying on the giant king bed all by myself, watching some stupidte night TV which is kind of a treat for me considering Burberry¡¯s no outside electronics policy. I mean, sometimes on weekends, I watch stuff on my phone, but it¡¯s nice to have a big TV for a change.


    Just as I¡¯m fumbling around for the remote to turn it off, I hear a creak and a crash, and then Zack cursing furiously.


    Pushing up from the bed, I pad over and crack open the door that separates my bedroom from the sitting area.


    And then my hand flies up to cover my mouth.


    The old metal bar in the couch bed has bent and broken under Zack¡¯s muscr body. He¡¯s now struggling to get out of the mess of nkets and pillows. Once I get myughter under control, I rush over to help him. Of course, when I take his hand and pull, it¡¯s like yanking on a mountain of muscle. He lets me pretend to help him out, stumbling from the pile in low- slung boxers and nothing else.


    My heart gives this big, hard thump that pushes all the blood in my body to my head and ¡­ other ces.


    ¡°Fucking stupid ass bed,¡± he curses, bending down to dig his phone from the nkets.


    His boxers slip slightly, and I see some serious ass crack.


    But ¡­ like good ass crack. Like, he has dimples in his lower back, and muscles that my hands ache to touch. This is not like looking at a plumber¡¯s crack. I p a hand over my mouth to hold back some more nervousughter.


    Zack rises to his feet and nces back at me, raising his dark brows. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± he asks, his voice a deep baritone.


    ¡°Well, your muscles just broke a bed,¡± I reach out and squeeze his bicep. It¡¯s like a sun-warmed freaking rock, so smooth and hard and hot. ¡°And you shed me a lot of butt cheek when you bent over.¡±


    ¡°You think my butt¡¯s funny?¡± he asks, a smirk tracing its way across his lips. ¡°I happen to really like yours.¡±


    My cheeks flush, and I realize I¡¯ve been caressing his arm this entire time, just molesting the heck out of him. I jerk my arm back, and put a few feet of space between us.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I didn¡¯t like it,¡± I tease, and the way he looks at me, all of that darkness inside of him bes deep, warm shadows that sweep across me with his gaze. ¡°Do you need help fixing up the bed?¡± I ask, because in a B&B this small, it¡¯s doubtful there¡¯s another room to switch him to or even someone at the front desk to talk with.


    ¡°Eh,¡± Zack says, pulling the bedding off and tossing it aside. ¡°I think it¡¯s a bit beyond fixing.¡± He tries to wrangle the broken bits and turn the bed back into a couch, but it¡¯s a no-go. It¡¯s beyond saving. ¡°Floor it is,¡± he says after one of the rusted springs literally falls off.


    I stand back as Zack makes a sad, pathetic little bed on the ground. I bite my lower lip and twist my hands in the front of my tank top.


    This is like one of those yaoi mangas that Creed bought me where the characters go to a hotel and by ident, they¡¯ve only reserved one bed instead of two, and end up having to share ¡­


    Yep. Yep. This is exactly like an anime or a manga or a romance novel.


    My cheeks flush as Zack tosses his pillows into a heap, pausing to nce over at me.


    ¡°You can share my bed,¡±


    I say, and my voicees out a breathless whisper.

 189

    Zack stops and turns to look back at me, standing there in a pale pink tank top and short-shorts made of this thin, flimsy material. It¡¯s super soft andfy, but I¡¯m now suddenly aware of my nipples in a way I¡¯ve never been before. Probably because I¡¯m not wearing a bra. Or underwear.


    If I¡¯m going to share a bed with one of the hottest guys in school, maybe I should consider putting those things on first?


    ¡°Are you sure about that?¡± he asks, blinking those beautiful umber eyes of his at me. They¡¯re brown, yes, but there¡¯s this honeyed quality to them in the low light from the bedsidemp. Zack must¡¯ve fallen asleep with it on because it was already lit when I walked in here. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that, you know.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ no, it¡¯s fine,¡± I say, pushing some strands of rose-gold away from my face. I smile to lighten the mood, but there¡¯s a tension between us that¡¯s been growing since ¡­ shit, I don¡¯t know, sometimest year? ¡°Grab some pillows.¡±


    I turn and head back into the room, listening to the murmur ofte night Comedy Central as I make up a little pillow fence between us. It¡¯s a tad juvenile, but I do it anyway.


    Zack grins as he puts his pillow on the left side of the bed and climbs on, his big body denting the mattress. I suddenly find myself with sweaty palms, and a pounding heart.


    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± he asks, reclining back in the pillows and crossing his arms behind his head. ¡°Is my butt that scary?¡±


    ¡°I said funny, not scary,¡± I mumble as I get on my side of the bed, andy on top of the covers. It¡¯s a bit warm in here, so I don¡¯t feel the need to be under the nkets just yet. Neither does he apparently.


    We sit in silence for a few minutes, watching a particrly raunchy episode of South Park together. It¡¯s one of the older ones where one of the main characters, Stan, pukes every time his crush, Wendy, looks at him. I feel that on a spiritual level. My crushes-all five of them, ahem-make me feel sick. But, like, in a really good way.


    It¡¯s so confusing.


    ¡°You know ¡­ I thought by leaving you alone, I was doing the right thing,¡± Zack says when amercial starts up. Ugh, I¡¯d forgotten how annoyingmercials were. I use ad blocking apps on my phone, so I never have to look at them anymore.


    I stay silent because I¡¯m not sure what to say.


    He turns over and leans on the pillow wall to look at me.


    ¡°But you wanted me to fight all along, huh?¡± I say nothing, but Zack just smiles. ¡°Now that I know, I hope you¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°Ready for what?¡± I ask, as he sits up and then puts his arms on either side of me, a cocksure smile on his face. I haven¡¯t given back his letterman jacket yet. To be quite honest, I love wearing it. I love his smell, that sporty scent that I recognize in an instant, but which always seems to present new notes. This time, I smell mint and nutmeg andvender.


    ¡°For me to go hardcore,¡± he says, reaching up and sliding his fingers along the side of my neck. A small moan escapes me before I can hold it back, and then Zack leans in. Just like I did with Creed, I kiss him like there are no boundaries, no barriers, nothing holding us back.


    It feels so damn good, this refreshing surge of want without guilt. Well, okay, there might be a tiny bit of guilt, but I tell myself this is thest piece of my revenge clicking into ce. I get to date these guys, explore my feelings for them, and I don¡¯t have to pick just yet. I don¡¯t have to choose.


    Another moan escapes me, and I find my fingers digging into the muscles of Zack¡¯s back, pulling him into me, dragging him closer. He lets me grip onto him like that, even seems to like it. We adjust ourselves, so that I¡¯m more or less lying down, and he¡¯s ¡­ more or less lying on top of me.


    The weight of his body feels good, his skin hot and slick under my hands. His right hand slides up my side, ruffling up my shirt, and I groan,


    wiggling underneath him. Creed¡¯s voice pops into my head: ¡°Don¡¯t wiggle like that; you¡¯ll give me a hard-on.¡±


    If I keep doing that, then Zack ¡­


    I adjust myself again, and he ends up between my thighs, his body hot and hard, and smelling so good. I slide my fingers down his back, scratching him with my nails, and he makes this growling sound that I can feel in my bones. My back arches up against him, pressing my breasts into his chest.


    Our kissing actually slows down a little after a few minutes, dropping into this hot sensual rhythm. That¡¯s when I feel his hardness between my thighs, pressing up against his boxers. I¡¯m fully aware of the fact that there¡¯s only two thinyers of fabric between us.


    I put my palms between us, intending to push Zack back a bit, but end up getting this jolt of excitement when I feel his hard pecs, and the stiff points of his nipples. I make a small sound of pleasure, and he groans, reaching up to cup my breast through the soft, thin material of my shirt.


    The pleasure is so intense that I throw my back into the pillows, breaking the kiss, panting hard. Zack moves his palm down to my bare waist, his skin hot and sweaty against mine, and then he slides up until he¡¯s dipping beneath the material of my shirt and cupping my bare breast.


    The sound that breaks past my lips then is so foreign that I almost startle myself, shaking as Zack chuckles and nuzzles against my corbone.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not quiet, you¡¯re going to wake up the rest of those jerks.¡± ¡°Quiet?¡± I choke, forgetting the meaning of the word for a moment. Zack


    grins at me, dipping his head to my breast. When he takes my nipple into his mouth, I moan so loud that I¡¯m positive someone else is going to hear me. The sensations though are so new, so overwhelming, I can hardly breathe.


    Want and lust and need spiral through me, building in my core and unraveling until every inch of body is affected. I¡¯m so suddenly so desperate for more that I don¡¯t know what to do with myself. Zack leans forward and his hardness brushes against the warmth of my core.


    We both pause at the sound of a door opening, and I slip out from underneath him,nding on the floor on my knees.


    I scramble to my feet, fixing my shirt, feeling my pulse pound.


    Zayd pads into the living room area and opens the mini-fridge, pulling out a soda before he pauses and turns to look at me, standing there in my pj¡¯s in view of the door. I¡¯m not sure he can see Zack though. His eyes stray to Zack¡¯s broken couch bed, and the pile of nkets on the floor, before he looks back at me.


    ¡°I knew I should¡¯ve taken that fucking couch bed,¡± he growls, popping the top on his soda as Zack rolls back to his side of the bed, one arm thrown across his eyes as he groans.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Zayd and I stare at each other for a long, hot moment, my eyes traveling down his tattooed muscr form. He, too, is shirtless, and my body throbs in response.


    Crap.


    Crap, crap, crap.


    My mother lost her virginity young, and used sex as a tool and a weapon to get what she wanted. I never wanted to be like her, so I¡¯ve held back, pushed the natural feelings inside of me down. But looking at Zayd¡¯s inked body, and then ncing back at a shirtless Zack, I wonder how much longer I¡¯m really going to be able to stay sane.


    ¡°Maybe you should have,¡± I whisper, and then I excuse myself to the bathroom, running the shower, and slipping into it. There¡¯s a need deep within me that¡¯s hard to ce words to. I take care of it myself, then turn the shower to cold for one,st icy spritz, and then climb back into bed.


    Zack¡¯s already asleep when I get back, but I¡¯m pretty sure I see tissues in the trash can on his side.


    We don¡¯t talk about what al


    most happened for quite some time after.

 190

    The Monday after our trip into town is Parents¡¯ Week.


    Dad shows up as usual, but he¡¯s skinnier than when Ist saw him, and he¡¯s definitely got less hair. That stresses me out to no end, but I push through the emotions, spending as much time with him as I can, having pics in the gardens, inviting him to watch the cheerleading routine we¡¯ve been working on, and letting him listen to the harp solo I¡¯ve been practicing.


    He gives the boys wary looks, but he doesn¡¯t say anything, and I do my best to show him that I¡¯m doing okay here, that I¡¯m happy.


    We steer clear of the ex-Bluebloods and their families. It¡¯s not hard, considering I¡¯ve got Kathleen Cabot around most of the time, making conversation with Dad, and generally putting up a barrier of don¡¯t mess with me vibes. The woman is a legend, and the richest person at the school. Nobody bothers her.


    For the third year in a row, Zayd¡¯s dad doesn¡¯te. He seems resigned to it at this point, but I make an effort to invite him to spend some time with me and Charlie. What¡¯s really interesting is that William Vanderbilt doesn¡¯t show up either. I would¡¯ve thought he¡¯d be here, harassing his son.


    ¡°He¡¯s probably thinking of the best way to punish me,¡± Tristan says with a scowl, his hands tightening into fists. He stares toward the front of the property, gray eyes dark with anger. If William treated his son so poorly before, when he was more or less doing what he wanted, what¡¯s going to happen now?


    My heart aches for Tristan, but I¡¯m not sure what, exactly, I can do.


    William Vanderbilt is a billionaire-or former billionaire if the rumors about the family¡¯s money running out are true-and I¡¯m just a high school student with a notebook, a list of rules, and a crush.


    On Friday, we attend the big game, and this time, I don¡¯t sabotage Zack, I cheer him on. He carries Burberry Prep to their greatest victory of the season, and a chance at the yoffs. When hees off the field, all sweaty and streaked with dirt, throws his arms around me and kisses me in front of everyone, I let him.


    That¡¯s how the rumors start.


    By Halloween, they¡¯re full-blown.


    ¡°Your name, with the word slut, is scrawled all over the bathroom mirrors,¡± Miranda says, chucking the lid of her shoe box against the wall in frustration. ¡°I used the emergency line to report the graffiti, but Ms. Felton says the staff is already aware of it, and that they¡¯re actively working to clean it up. When I challenged her and said that, no, I was just in there, and they weren¡¯t, she told me that it¡¯s in every single student restroom on campus.¡±


    Miranda huffs, and throws back sheets of shiny white-blond hair over her shoulders. She¡¯s so mad that she¡¯s shaking.


    I¡¯m almost disturbingly calm, examining my outfit as it sparkles on the bed.


    I¡¯m going as bubblegum this year. Yep, literal chewing gum. Doesn¡¯t sound so morous until you see the pink sparkly dress, shimmery silver heels with little gum wrapper bows, and the fancy hair piece I made from craft supplies the boys and I gathered in town.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you freaking out about this?¡± she asks as Lizzie uses a t- iron to straighten her curly hair. She decided to go as a banana, but like, a sexy banana because,e on, we¡¯ve been over this before. Remember Mean Girls?


    Lizzie¡¯s got on a tight, yellow jumpsuit that clings to her curves. We all worked together on the group costumes, so the top has these folds of soft yellow fabric thate down like the top of a peel. She has banana earrings on, and big yellow wedge heels with white polka dots.


    ¡°Because that¡¯s what Harper and Co. want?¡± I suggest, exhaling as I fluff the wrapper-covered purse that I made. I used an intact piece of big pink bubble gum for the sp. That, and I¡¯ve made a little ¡®corsage¡¯ out of weaving silver wrappers together. Toplete the look, I did my makeup in


    bright, sparkling pinks, and drew a huge pink circle next to my mouth, as if I¡¯m permanently blowing a bubble.


    For Miranda, we decided on ¡®sexy watermelon¡¯-I know, I know, bear with me-and her outfit is freaking precious. She¡¯s got a tight red dress on with a green hem, and little ck seeds dotted across it. There¡¯s a ¡®bite¡¯ out of the right hip that shows off her skin underneath.


    Andrew ended up choosing to be a chocte bar, but then he also turned it into drag. He¡¯s wearing a dress with an asymmetrical brown top and a silver skirt that¡¯s ruffled to look like the wrapper¡¯s been pulled down. Honestly, it¡¯s pretty brilliant. He¡¯s got on a brown wig, too much makeup, and heels, and he seems pretty happy about it.


    ¡°True,¡± Miranda hedges, watching as I sweep my costume off the bed and head into the bathroom to change. She was totally quiet when I told her about what happened in Lujo-both the dating conversation as well as the Zack thing. However she feels about it, she¡¯s continued to be supportive.


    I owe her freaking big time.


    We finish getting ready and meet the boys in the hall.


    It¡¯s pretty surreal, seeing them all gathered together like this. Technically, each of them is my boyfriend. I have boyfriends. How crazy is that? Part of me knows that this isn¡¯t permanent, that it¡¯ll onlyst so long, that a group of alpha dudes like this can¡¯t stay together forever, but the other part of me just wants to enjoy the moment.


    I¡¯m part of a group. I feel protected. I feel safe.


    My eyes go to Tristan first because out of all the boys, he was the only one who refused to reveal his costume until now.


    Pretty sure I almost keel over and die when I see him.


    ¡°Holy shit.¡± The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I p a hand to cover my lips.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    He lets this wicked beautiful smile work its way across his mouth, and then moves in to stand in front of me.


    ¡°ck licorice, do you like it?¡± He¡¯s got on a leather jacket that¡¯s been covered in long pieces of ck licorice. Underneath it, he¡¯s got on a fis shirt and leather pants as well as expensive loafers with bits of licorice artfully crisscrossed on the toes. He¡¯s even got a bowtie around his neck made of candy.


    My heart starts to pound as he steps toward me and puts his hands on the hips of my sparkly pink dress. It¡¯s a bit too short and too tight for my liking,


    but it was the only one I could find


    that fit the theme of my costume.

 191

    ¡°You both look and smell divine,¡± he says with a sharp twist of his lips, leaning in to breathe the bubblegum smell that surrounds me. His usual scent of cinnamon and peppermint has been reced with ck licorice, but I don¡¯t mind. I actually like the stuff, despite the fact that everyone else I know hates it.


    ¡°Right back at you,¡± I whisper, as he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my throat. It¡¯s such a deliberate move, meant to make my blood boil.


    It works.


    I exhale and step away from him before I get too swept up in his presence. I want to check out the other guys and their costumes. We all worked so hard on the set, I need to take it all in.


    Zayd is dressed up as a container of French fries-or chips as Windsor refers to them-but he¡¯s done it in such an artful way that he looks hot as hell at the same time. He¡¯s got on a pair of overalls with short legs. The suspenders are bright yellow, and the shorts part is red, like a container. He¡¯s painted a big, white McDonald¡¯s M on the ass, and made a brooch out of an order of small fries from a drive-thru. He glued them together, and I helped spray them with shec.


    Fortunately, he doesn¡¯t smell like his snack of choice and instead, when he embraces me, there¡¯s the usual clove, tobo, and sage mixture that I¡¯vee to appreciate.


    ¡°You are beyond hot in that outfit,¡± he whispers to me as Miranda scoffs and rolls her eyes, moving aside so Lizzie can slip out. She needed an extra minute to fix her makeup, so she¡¯s a step behind.


    As soon as she appears though, I can feel her and Tristan looking at each other.


    It¡¯s too much to deal with tonight, so I turn to Creed and grin. Miranda¡¯s twin is also a bitten off piece of watermelon, but instead of a dress, he¡¯s got a red shirt with ck seeds, and a side cut-out that shows off his rock-hard abs. Around his neck, he¡¯s even wearing a chain with a piece of watermelon on it. As I watch, he lifts it up and takes a big bite out of it.


    ¡°At least I¡¯m not a pirate this time,¡± is all he says, and I grin. His pants are green, and honestly ugly as sin, but they work with the costume. And tell me this: how could Creed Cabot look anything but attractive?


    ¡°At least there¡¯s that,¡± I agree, and I let him take my arm, ignoring the fact that Lizzie and Tristan are having some quiet conversation that I can¡¯t quite


    hear. Sheughs, and he smiles at her. He smiles. My stomach twists, and I close my eyes against a surge of jealousy.


    It¡¯s not fair for me to act like that.


    I have five guys surrounding me, and Lizzie only has some distant fiance she doesn¡¯t even like. If her and Tristan are meant to be then ¡­Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Windsor, you¡¯re ridiculous,¡± I say, because he¡¯s dressed up as a giant tea bag. Like, literally, he¡¯s wearing a freaking see-through shift with dried brown leaves glued and sewn to the inside, and he¡¯s got a long rope with a huge square tag hanging off of it that he¡¯s swinging around. It says English Breakfast Tea with a crown underneath it.


    His red hair¡¯s sticking up as per usual, and he¡¯s got a silver tea spoon behind his ear.


    The reference isn¡¯t lost on me. You know, born with a silver spoon in the mouth, meaning wealthy? Hah.


    ¡°Am I not the epitome of a youthful Adonis?¡± he says, the shift swirling around his bare legs. He¡¯s got boots on, but I¡¯m not sure what else is underneath that ridiculous outfit. Hopefully underwear at the very least, but knowing the prince, maybe there¡¯s nothing at all. ¡°I¡¯ve already posted several photos on Instagram, and my mother¡¯s lost her mind.¡± He grins like this is the greatest thing ever. ¡°Oh, the bloody scandal. She definitely will not enjoy the tea bag references.¡± He winks at me and I roll my eyes.


    ¡°At least you¡¯re a proper cup of English breakfast,¡± I say, letting him take up my other arm. Zack is standing just in front of me, watching me carefully. We¡¯ve been a little awkward with each other since the trip, but only because every time I look at him, heat shes through me and I imagine his mouth on my breast.


    I figure if I can still talk to Creed after the hot tub incident, we should be okay eventually.


    But also, there¡¯s the fact that Zack¡¯s costume is ¡­ sort of non-existent.


    ¡°I feel fucking ridiculous,¡± he says as I try to decide whether or not I shouldugh ¡­ or cry ¡­ or drag him into my dorm room for another make- out session.


    He¡¯s supposed to be a slice of pizza, but really he¡¯s sort of just wearing underwear, a tank top, and sneakers. The slice of pizza-made out of yellow, brown, and red felt for the cheese, crust, and pepperoni-has been glued to a very tight pair of new ck boxer briefs. Up top, he¡¯s got a tank top on with the logo for a local pizza ce.


    He is pretty much naked.


    ¡°And I went in rainbow dragst year, so that tells you a lot.¡±


    I decideughter¡¯s the best medicine, and let myself giggle at him until Miranda hip bumps her brother out of the way, takes my arm, and drags me down the hallway.


    We head through the woods like we didst year, and I get all giddy and excited as I unlock the doors to the Maserati, and Miranda, Creed, and Windsor join me. Andrew takes his red Lamborghini with Lizzie, Tristan, and Myron. Tristan¡¯s bestie was waiting out here for us, leaning up against a tree, and dressed like some superhero I don¡¯t recognize. Not surprising considering I¡¯ve never really been into superhero stuff.


    Zack and Zayd take the orange McLaren, and we make a little caravan as our headlights sweep the darkness, heading for one of Windsor¡¯s family homes in the mountains. Most everyone at Burberry Prep who¡¯s rich enough has a home within a few hours of this area. It¡¯s considered one of the most beautiful and exclusive parts of the country, a new Californian haven that¡¯s trendier with the super-rich than L. A. ever was.


    Fortunately, the zoningws out here prevent too many new houses from being built, so I hope it stays pristine for a long timeing.


    About an hour and fifteen minutester, we head up a long, long drive to a massive gate, and then wait as Windsor gets out to put in the code. There are people here already, caterers, and party nners that the prince hired with his own money. Since they¡¯re not part of the usual staff who tend the property, he swears nobody will know we partied here until it¡¯s toote.


    When we get inside, the house is decorated like a Halloween store, props everywhere, chandeliers with skulls, candbras burning bright. I scream as I identally step on a trigger spot and a giant zombie lunges out at me.


    ¡°Oh, Charity,¡± Zayd says, sweeping me up in his arms as we both start tough. He carries me into the kitchen-and holy shit, what a kitFhen-and sets me on the center ind. This ind is bigger than the kitchen at my dad¡¯s new rental ce which, actually, is about twice asrge as the


    kitchen we had in the Train Car.

 192

    ¡°I don¡¯t scare easily, I promise,¡± I say, and then a giant spider drops from the ceiling, and I scream again, dissolving intoughter. Windsor grins at me and holds his arms out, shedding a few dry ¡®tea¡¯ leaves from his costume.


    ¡°What do you think, mdy? Didn¡¯t I tell you I¡¯d treat like you a princess? This whole ce, this whole party, it¡¯s for your pleasure.¡± He takes a


    sweeping bow, and then stands back up. I¡¯m grinning like crazy, but even as I¡¯m writing his words off as being silly, I¡¯m loving them, too.


    ¡°Did you get the pumpkins?¡± I ask, and he gives me this saucy look, like what do you think, your majesty? We head into the backyard to find more decorations hanging from the trees, giant spiderwebs stretching across the roof, and a series of tables with orange and ck tablecloths. They¡¯re covered in pumpkins, paint, carving tools, and all sorts of pattern books.


    Since we skipped out on the school party this year (we¡¯re third years, so like, way too cool for a party in the gym), we have time to hang out and carve jack-onterns together before the other students show up.


    Windsor sits beside me, turns his pumpkin around in a circle, sighs, and then nces my way.


    ¡°Love, I haven¡¯t the faintest clue what you want me to do with this thing.¡± I grin, and reach over hisp to grab the pattern book lying next to him. Instead of simply letting me grab it, he pulls me into hisp, and we both just sit there for a minute. His mouth¡¯s near my ear, and I shiver when he whispers against it. ¡°I hope you enjoy your Halloween party.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already enjoying it,¡± I whisper back, and then I help him pick a pattern from the book, pin it to the side of the pumpkin, and trace the lines with the little pinwheel. When ites time to start cutting the top off and cleaning out the pumpkin¡¯s guts, he ends up just wrapping his arms around my waist and letting me do the work.


    I don¡¯t even care. I love it.


    I think the other boys are jealous. At least, I know Zayd is for sure. He brings me cider, and then cookies, and then sits super close to us on the left side. I don¡¯t mind though. What I do mind, even though I try not to, is watching Lizzie and Tristan carve pumpkins side by side.


    It scares me.


    Even though it shouldn¡¯t.


    I focus instead on Windsor, and what¡¯s turning out to be a spectacrly crappy jack-ontern. Doesn¡¯t matter. Once it has the candle inside of it, and it¡¯s all lit up, it¡¯ll look great ¡­ from a distance.


    We line the drive with our creations, and then open the gates for the crowd.


    Everything is just fine until the ex-Bluebloods show up.


    I exhale as I watch Harper, Becky, and Ileana step in through the open front doors, dressed as ¡­ well, I¡¯m not really sure what they¡¯re dressed as. They all look like dominatrices to me. Then I realize they¡¯re all wearing badges, and holding batons, so I¡¯m guessing they¡¯re sexy cops?


    How ¡­ original.


    Harper sees me straight away, and smiles. Her new lush locks of strawberry blond hair flowing behind her. I swear to God, if it¡¯s thest thing I do, those extensions areing out. Bet they were pricey, too.


    ¡°You crashed my party, so I figured I¡¯d crash yours, too,¡± she says,ing right up to me. I don¡¯t back down, my tattoo throbbing (okay, so I know I¡¯m imagining it, but I swear I can feel it), and the list burning a hole in my purse. If I close my eyes, I can see it.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep


    A list by Marnye Reed


    The Girls: Harper du Pont, BeFky tter, and Ileana Taittinger Their Cronies: Anna KirkpatriFk, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn,


    Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner, Kiara Xiao, and Ben Thresher


    The Plebs


    Before I graduate Burberry, I will see every name on this list crossed off, burnt to ash, and blown away in the wind. Assholes. Every single person on that list (except the Plebs, but I have no idea how I¡¯m going to deal with them) was on the boat at theke.


    Every. Single. One.


    They were going to let Harper break my fingers and take away my ability to make music forever. They were going to let Greg and John and Ben sexually assault me. As far as I¡¯m concerned, they¡¯re all culpable. Besides, all the girls were in the pool that day. It wasn¡¯t one pair of hands that pushed me under, it was many.


    Many, many hands.


    ¡°Wee,¡± Windsor says, appearing beside me, that special glint in his eyes that scared me from moment one. From the very first second he met the Bluebloods of Burberry Preparatory Academy, he was ready to thrown down. Looking at him now, I see that same focused energy that reminds me of a wolf on the prowl.


    Windsor York is looking for prey.


    ¡°We hope you enjoy Marnye¡¯s party,¡± he continues, grinning as Harper gives him a strange look. She knows something¡¯s up, but she also knows that if she doesn¡¯t make an appearance here, she¡¯s done for. Ileana and Becky exchange looks behind her, but they don¡¯t say anything before they move off to get drinks.


    The other ex-Bluebloods-I¡¯ve just started calling them the Company in my head because, like, Harper and Company makes sense to me-have already filtered into the crowd and disappeared.


    My stomach twists as I see Kiara Xiao ring at me, her angel costume leaning a bit more toward the devilish side, if you catch my drift. I¡¯m not slut-shaming or anything, I¡¯m just saying I don¡¯t think angels wear tiny white bikinis and cowboy boots.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Windsor says, reaching up to brush his thumb acrBelongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    oss my lips. ¡°Don¡¯t let them get to you.¡±

 193

    ¡°If you¡¯re being so chummy with them,¡± I yell over the music, ¡°then I¡¯m worried because you¡¯ve got something nned.¡± He cuts me off with a kiss, and I¡¯m so surprised that I let him take me into his arms. Kissing Windsor is


    ¡­ it¡¯s surreal. We were friends for an entire year, and now ¡­ The moment I saw him though, I was attracted to him. He knows it; I know it. And yet, all I can think about are his previous invitations. It¡¯ll be fun, but it won¡¯tst long. Why would he say that? Is that what he¡¯s still thinking?Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    And yet, I move back, taking Windsor with me until we¡¯re pushed against a wall.


    He puts his palms on either side of me and pulls back just enough to grin.


    The Backstreet Boys¡¯ Everybody (BaFkstreet¡¯s BaFk) music video is ying on the giant screen behind Windsor, the Halloween theme oh-so- appropriate for the asion. I¡¯m not really looking at it, though. No, I¡¯m looking at a prince, and his dted pupils, and the slight sheen of moisture on his lower lip from kissing me.


    ¡°You worry too much, mdy. Rx. I nned this all for you.¡±


    He kisses me again, and my heart tumbles inside my chest. It was a like a dream when he waltzed into the academy, dered me the most beautiful girl in school, and took up my mantle of revenge as his own. But there are two sides to every coin, and I¡¯m wondering what¡¯s going to happen when Windsor¡¯s flips.


    Later, when most of the partygoers are drunk, I¡¯m sitting with Zayd and Creed in one of the game rooms, ying a round of poker. The stakes this time are pretty smallparatively. Whichever guy wins gets to take me on a date next weekend (which makes me nervous as hell). But if I win, I get to take them both. Pretty sure that this is a win-win-win scenario for me, and I¡¯m okay with that.


    After a while, I start to notice that the room is emptying out. That¡¯s what makes me nervous.


    Once our game finishes-I win, boys, sorry-I head out into the main hall and find Harper screaming in Tristan¡¯s face.


    ¡°Where the fuck are my friends, you psycho?¡± she shouts, and someone turns the music down. Tristan simply stands there with his fingers in his pockets. Lizzie¡¯s on one side of him, and Windsor¡¯s on the other.


    Creed and Zayd exchange a look.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± I ask them, spinning around and feeling this strange tightness in my throat. Obviously, I want my revenge. I just don¡¯t want things to get as dark as they did on theke.


    ¡°We have to make a stand to protect you,¡± Zayd exins, voice soft. ¡°But we don¡¯t want you to have to dig so deep. This is Club business, and you shouldn¡¯t have to get involved.¡±


    I turn back around as Zack unlocks the door on the opposite side of the entryway.


    The Company stumbles out, cursing and shouting. Every single one of them was in there, other than Harper.


    And ¡­ they¡¯re all bald.


    Like totally andpletely bald.


    My mouth drops open and I mp both hands over my mouth. Harper sees them all and shrieks one of her pterodactyl shrieks. That¡¯s before Tristan and Windsor grab her by the arms and push her down into one of the chairs. Lizzie steps up with a buzzer in hand while Harper screams.


    Several of Harper¡¯s cronies rush forward to help, but Zayd, Creed, Zack, Myron, and even Andrew step in to hold them back. The Plebs are eating this drama up with a spoon, and I notice not a single one of them steps in to help or hurt the situation.


    ¡°Miranda,¡± I whisper as she grabs my arm, eyes wide. She nces over at me, but I can see she knows about as well as I do what¡¯s going on here.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking kill you!¡± Harper screams as Lizzie buzzes her hair clean off her head. Sheets of shiny, beautiful extensions falling into her pleather-dp. ¡°I¡¯m going to send a hitman after your shared whore!¡±


    I don¡¯t react to that. In the past, I might¡¯ve cringed, or felt ashamed, or ¡­ something. Tonight, I ¡­ I¡¯m not sure what I feel. I move up to stand in front of her, waiting as Lizzie finishes her gruesome chore and steps back, turning off the buzzer.


    Harper¡¯s so mad that she¡¯s spitting.


    If she hadn¡¯t tried to kill me-or wasn¡¯t threatening to kill me now-I might feel sorry for her. I¡¯m a little pissed at the guys for not telling me their n though.


    We¡¯ll talk about itter.


    Windsor and Tristan release Harper, and she stands up, touching her hands to her bristly head. There¡¯s pure fury in her eyes as she looks at me, and I can tell I¡¯ve be the sole source and focus of her hatred.


    Maybe because I¡¯m an easy target?


    ¡°Do you have any idea of the mistake you¡¯ve just made?¡± Harper sneers, so angry that she¡¯s shaking. Some of the Company boys look like they might start a fight with us, but then they look around and remember whose house they¡¯re standing in and change their minds. ¡°I hope your little whore is worth it,¡± Harper says, looking from one of my boys to the other, ¡°and don¡¯t think we don¡¯t know that you¡¯re all dating her.¡±


    ¡°We never tried to hide that,¡± Creed says, stepping forward in his watermelon costume. By all rights, he should look ridiculous, but with that little cutout that reveals his abs, his beautiful white-blond hair, and those ice- blue eyes of his, he¡¯s anything but. Actually, the look on his face is the same one he wore when he was fighting Derrick Barr, and when he was


    confronting Greg and John in the woods. This is his take no shit, fighting face. ¡°In fact, we¡¯re all quite proud,¡± he drawls as he moves over to stand beside me, curling an arm around my waist. ¡°Because even if we¡¯re all dating her at the same time, that means we¡¯re not dating you.¡±


    Harper ignores him, sweeping out the front door with her cronies at her heels. John flips us off and curses us all out before heading down the steps and climbing into his Aston Martin. There¡¯s the sound of peeling rubber and churning gravel, and then silence.


    Tristan scans his de gray gaze over the crowd, and smirks.


    ¡°You¡¯re either with the Bluebloods, or you¡¯re against us. You¡¯re here with the Idols and our Inner Circle, or you¡¯re not.¡± Tristan and Creed exchange a nce before Tristan continues speaking. ¡°Just remember: they¡¯ve closed ranks, and we¡¯re still recruiting.¡±


    Tristan nods his chin, the music starts up, and the party goes on.


    Miranda gives me a look, grabs my hand, and pulls me onto the dance floor. Maybe, like me, she knows there¡¯ll be time to talkter. Right now, I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m frustrated with the boys or ttered by what they¡¯ve done for me.


    It¡¯s always nice to feel protected; I just don¡¯t want that feeling to co


    me at a price that¡¯s too high to pay.

 194

    Despite all the partying and the drama, Burberry Preparatory Academy is the best high school in the country, and even students like Zayd and Windsor are full-up on coursework and extracurricr activities. Students like me and Tristan arepletely swamped.


    It takes me almost an entire week to get a moment to talk to the boys as a group. Creed and I have a study session in the library, and I invite the others to join us.


    The five of them fan out across the long table, and it urs to me that the way they each sit is indicative of their unique personalities. Creed slouches, Tristan sits with his back ramrod straight, Zayd kicks his heels up on the table, Windsor rests his elbows on the table and leans in close, and Zack sits with his arms folded tight across his broad chest.


    I smile.


    It isn¡¯t until I start writing in my notebook again that it really hits me: I have a boyfriend. No, not just a boyfriend, five of them. Anyway, I start jotting my feelings down (and don¡¯t worry, I hide my notebook inside the cab of my vanity, taped to the top above a stack of towels), and it¡¯s only then that I truly realize what I¡¯ve gotten into.


    I agreed to date these guys. Date them. I have five freaking boyfriends.


    They all have a streak of cruelty in them, a velvety stripe of darkness that¡¯s woven into their souls. The question now is: can I channel that cruelty, that


    darkness, into something positive?


    ¡°It¡¯s so quiet in here,¡± Zayd says, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the decorative copper tiles on the soaring ceiling of the library. ¡°No wonder I nevere in here. The quiet stresses me out. I like noise.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re well-aware,¡± Creed drawls, waving a handzily around. ¡°You talk just to hear your own voice; it¡¯s constant.¡±


    ¡°How about you eat a bag of dicks?¡± Zayd replies, grinning and flipping Creed off. I let them do their thing for a minute, and then switch off my academy-issued iPad, tucking it into my bookbag. ¡°What are we doing here anyway?¡± he continues, raising his pierced brow. ¡°We should be in The Mess having dinner at the high table. God knows, Harper and her bald buddies are probably already in there.¡±


    I smile becausee on, the term bald buddies is hrious.


    ¡°You guys didn¡¯t tell me what you were nning at the party,¡± I say, and Windsor and Zack exchange a look before the prince turns back to me.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Do you know what bet I made to get into the Infinity Club?¡± he asks, tilting his head to one side, a small grin working its way across his lips. ¡°I¡¯d wager it¡¯s bloody killing you that you don¡¯t know.¡± I purse my lips and narrow my eyes on him.


    ¡°It may have crossed my mind a time or two.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Windsor says, leaning across the table and grabbing my hand. He puts my knuckles to his lips, his hazel eyes shing a green-gold color as his grin doubles in size. ¡°You¡¯re lying now, and that was one of the rules, wasn¡¯t it? No lies?¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m dying to know, so tell me, for crap¡¯s sake.¡± I take my hand back, and pretend to rub his kiss off on my red zer. In all actuality, it¡¯s tingling, and I wish he¡¯d never stopped kissing it.


    ¡°I bet I could keep you safe until the end of second year.¡±


    My mouth drops open, and Windsor and Zack exchange another look. Zack¡¯s eyes are narrowed, his shoulders taut. He sighs heavily, but I can tell he¡¯s relieved when he starts to talk.


    ¡°That night, in the amphitheater, when you went to make a bet with the girls and I sat with the boys ¡­ I bet them the same thing.¡± My brows go up. He¡¯d told me he was going to make up some ridiculous bet that they¡¯d never go for, just to distract them. Guess that¡¯s not how things turned out. ¡°I bet that I could keep you safe. Or rather, I tried to make the bet-and I came up


    with the idea before he did.¡± Zack gives Windsor a look that the prince pretends not to notice.


    ¡°Okay ¡­¡± I start as Tristan sighs. My mind is whirling. So Windsor met me, sensed an opportunity, and leapt on it. He saved me from the pool. He watched my back. Of course a bet was involved. Of Fourse the stupid Club was involved.


    ¡°And we didn¡¯t take Zack¡¯s bet because we didn¡¯t have an interest in winning that wager,¡± Tristan says, turning to look at me for a moment.


    ¡°How the fuck was I supposed to know that?¡± Zack growls, and the two boys stare each other down.


    ¡°Who did you bet against?¡± I ask, redirecting my attention back to Wind.


    He gives a tight smile, and shakes his head.


    ¡°Other members of the Club. Idiots. It doesn¡¯t matter. Winning got me into the Club where I needed to be. I joined for you.¡± I shake my head, and then put my fingers up to my temples. Do I believe Windsor is trustworthy? Sure. But sometimes I think his motivations are questionable. He joined the Club for me, huh? I give him a look. ¡°It¡¯s true, whether you believe it or not.¡± He gives me this slow, confident, cocksure little smile that I don¡¯t want to like but do anyway.


    I lift my head and put my palms t on the table.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t exin why you guys didn¡¯t tell me your n. I mean, it was a bit more heavy-handed than I would¡¯ve gone for, but also sort of brilliant.¡± I grin as I think about the Company, and all the girls¡¯ fancy new wigs. The boys are just dealing with their shiny bald heads. ¡°Why not tell me? I mean, there is such a thing as lying by omission.¡±


    ¡°We want to protect you,¡± Zack says, his red and ck letterman jacket pulled taut over his broad shoulders. Just looking at him reminds me of the weight of his body, the heat of his mouth. Ugh. Pretty sure I¡¯ve spent thest few months just ogling the guys. I figure as long as I keep my grades up (I outranked Tristan during Parents¡¯ Week again, so score for me) then I deserve a little indulgence. ¡°And not just physically, but emotionally, too.¡±


    ¡°What he¡¯s trying to say is ¡­ let us be the assholes.¡± Zayd gives me a devilish little grin. ¡°It¡¯s what we¡¯re good at, after all.¡±


    ¡°You have a sort of ¡­¡± Creed trails off, waving his hand aroundzily. I swear, when I close my eyes, I can just imagine him dressed in a blue velvet jacket withce trailing from the sleeves, an arist


    ocrat in a crumbling old castle.

 195

    He might be new money, but he doesn¡¯t need to marry some girl with


    a fancy name to act like he deserves to sit on a throne. He¡¯s the embodiment of luxe, the very definition of opulence and sumptuous extravagance. ¡°Sweetness, yes, that¡¯s the word.¡± He snaps his fingers and leans in close to me, his fresh soap scent wafting around me. ¡°You have a sweetness to you, but one that isn¡¯t bought and paid for with naivety. We like it.¡±


    ¡°We love it,¡± Tristan corrects, reaching up to run his hand down the smooth red and ck id silk of his tie. His smirk is tinged with darkness, bathed in shadows, and I know for sure then that whichever one of these boys I choose, I¡¯ll never change them. The way Zack confronted Ileana in the gym, nearly reduced her to rubble with a few sentences. The way Windsor¡¯s eyes gleam when he¡¯s plotting something. The cruel words that Zayd spat at Becky in the music room. They have it in them, these filthy rich boys of Burberry Prep, this vitriolic simmer, this wanton disregard for authority, and a devil-may-care attitude that can¡¯t be tamed.


    I¡¯ll never tame the academy¡¯s bad boys. I¡¯m not sure that I want to.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying ¡­ let you do the dirty work?¡± I ask, my heart pounding. I feel dizzy, lightheaded, like a goddess surrounded by devils. But I like it, the way they offset my personality, total opposites in every way that counts. And opposites, they really do attract. On the inside, I¡¯m burning. On the outside, I stay cool, calm, rxed. Or at least I think I do. I feel sweat beading on my forehead, dripping down my spine, sliding between my breasts.


    Ah, my breasts.


    I¡¯ve never been so aware of them in all my life.


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what we¡¯re saying,¡± Windsor purrs, propping his face in his hand and giving me this sort of love-drunk grin. See, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s faking it. I¡¯m pretty sure he is in love, but what I think he¡¯s in love with is the aforementioned dirty work, and not necessarily me. ¡°Keep your honeyed hands clean, and let us y.¡±


    ¡°My honeyed hands?¡± I choke out on the end of augh.


    ¡°Give me your list,¡± Tristan says, holding out his hand. It¡¯s not a request, it¡¯s an order. Do I want to follow it? He stares at me with those beautiful gray eyes of his, watching, waiting. I swallow hard and reach into my purse, pulling out the notebook, and tearing the list out before I give it to him. He smiles this wicked, ck little smile as he takes it. Next, I tear out the rules, and I hand those over, too.


    ¡°y dirty, but y by my rules.¡± Tristan takes it, but he doesn¡¯t look nearly as excited by it. ¡°I¡¯ll never forgive you if you don¡¯t.¡±Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    Now that I have a crew to call my own, a boyfriend (or two or three or five), and a better idea of what colleges I¡¯m interested in, and what I want to do with my life, the year starts to feel like it¡¯s going by at warp-speed. One minute, I¡¯m lecturing the boys in the library, and the next, I¡¯m gearing up for fall break.


    ¡°I want to go to Bornstead U,¡± I blurt, sitting next to Zayd behind the auditorium curtain. I have no idea how he talked me into this, but I¡¯m signing up for the talent show, I guess. Auditions are today because at a ce like Burberry Prep, even something as silly as a talent show has to be monitored, graded, and appraised.


    ¡°Bornstead, huh?¡± Zayd says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head. He¡¯s changed his hair color to an ashyvender that just begs to be touched. Without thinking, I reach up and run my fingers through it. This horribly embarrassing moan escapes Zayd¡¯s beautiful mouth, and every single person sitting backstage with us turns to look in our direction. My cheeks flush, but I don¡¯t stop touching him. ¡°That¡¯s a ritzy school. You have the grades for it, definitely, but I¡¯m guessing you¡¯d need another schrship in order to afford it, huh?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± I say, but I¡¯ve already started on that. I¡¯ve been forcing myself to spend at least three hours a week in the library¡¯sputerb so I can submit applications and essays for any schrship program I can find. ¡°But that¡¯s what I want.¡±


    ¡°Best high school in the country, best university in the country. The sky¡¯s the limit for you, huh, Marnye Reed?¡± Zayd¡¯s name is called, and he stands up, grabbing his guitar, and leaning down to put his arm on one side of me, our faces so close together I can smell the mint he¡¯s sucking on. ¡°If anyone could do it, it¡¯d be you.¡± He leans down and puts his cheek against mine. All I want is for him to kiss me, but the asshole pulls back and turns to head onstage.


    I sneak up to the break in the curtain to watch as he gets situated at the mic.


    Zayd¡¯s emerald eyes nce my way, and he winks.


    ¡°Introduce yourself and give a brief exnation of your performance, please,¡± Mr. Carter says, situated at the same table he sat at when I won first chair for the harp. Zayd sat right near him, and surprised the hell out of me by pping for my performance. That, I think, was also a very genuine response. It feels good to know that not every moment I enjoyed with the boys was bullshit.


    ¡°Zayd Kaiser,¡± he says, that husky rockstar purr of his melting the panties of every girl in that room-including mine. ¡°And I¡¯ll, uh, be performing a song that I wrote.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the name of the song?¡± Mr. Carter asks, sounding incredibly bored. He has his hand poised above his iPad to type it into some field on a form. Zayd and his music, he¡¯s so much more than that. I fist my hand into the fabric of the ck cks I wore to perform. They¡¯re so unbelievablyfy. If I had time for anything besides school, extracurricr activities, and time with my friends, I¡¯d probably add creating a petition to abolish gender-specific uniform requirements to the list.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t named it yet,¡± Zayd starts, slinging the strap of his guitar over his head and then reaching up to twist some of his gelled hair into spikes.


    ¡°Pick something, please.¡± Mr. Carter looks up and raises an eyebrow as Zayd nces over at me again.


    ¡°How about ¡­¡± He turns back to our music teacher and grins. ¡°Charity?¡±


    Mr. Carter nods, and Zayd sighs, clearing his throat, closing his eyes, and exhaling. When he opens them again, he¡¯s got his performer vibe going strong. His inked fingers strum the guitar, and he starts this beautiful, sweet- sad little melody


    that makes my heart thump.

 196

    Watching his tattooed fingers tease the instrument to life gives me chills. ¡°That first look in the morning, suFh a honeyed sweetness, the only thing


    I¡¯m living for.¡± Zayd continues to strum, getting into the song and biting his lower lip as he ys. ¡°Nothing Fould never take away the first blush of morning, the glossed gold of her hair; the way she hates me makes me want her.¡±


    ¡°This is fucking stupid,¡± I hear Harper snort behind me, but there are too many teachers back here for her to do a damn thing. I¡¯m not concerned.


    ¡°There¡¯s no girl that burns so bright as Charity, no sunray that gives off so muFh light. Summer storms Fould never sway me, that sweet-hot rain, the taste of her warm mouth.¡± He closes his eyes and strokes his guitar like I wish he¡¯d stroke me ¡­ Eek. Did I just think that?! I did. I did, and I¡¯m not ashamed. ¡°So Fomplex, so un-Fonfusing. Just the way she likes it, the whole world as her oyster, the everything I need.¡± He draws thisst word out, and I swear, I¡¯m swooning. Sucking my bottom lip under my teeth, I wait in tense anticipation for him to finish the song. I want to kiss him so damn bad right now.


    Someday soon I¡¯m going to an Afterglow FonFert, I think, trying to imagine Zayd with an electric guitar, dressed to the nines, putting on a full- blown performance for an adoring crowd. I¡¯ve looked up some of his previous shows on YouTube, but as impressive as they are, I bet it¡¯s nothingpared to seeing him live. There¡¯s this charismatic energy he brings to a room that¡¯s impossible to convey over media. Impossible.


    When Zayd finishes the song, I find my feet moving before I can stop myself.


    I end up on the stage, throwing my arms around his neck. Several girls that are sitting in the auditorium seats boo, but I ignore them. The inked asshole that I hated, then liked, then hated, and now ¡­ whatever it is that I feel for him, he grabs me around the waist and kisses me like he really believes all those things from his song.


    We kiss for so long that Mr. Carter has to tap the microphone and ask us to stop.


    I¡¯d be embarrassed if I weren¡¯t so ted.


    My turn is next, and one of the first-year orchestra students wheels my harp onto the stage.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    I sit down to y John Thomas¡¯ WatFhing the Wheat (an obscure piece from the eighties-told you I was far from hip), and I swear, the harp has never sounded prettier.


    I¡¯ve always yed with my heart. It must just be that my heart is fuller now.


    To think that has something to do with these boys ¡­ is terrifying. I¡¯m going to have to be careful to keep all these new feelings safe.


    ¡°They¡¯re all performing at the talent show,¡± Miranda says, standing in the courtyard with water bubbling in the fountain behind her. She has a nice, high ponytail, ck shorts, and a white razorback top with the Burberry Prep logo on it. Fall break is here, and it¡¯s like first year all over again: Miranda is off to a volleyball camp, and Charlie is at a job in Napa. I don¡¯t think he should be working right now, but bills have to be paid.


    So I told him about the money, the poker money.


    I called him because it felt cowardly to text it, to reveal I had damn near eighty grand in an ount that I¡¯d barely touched. Of course, Charlie being Charlie, he refused to take it. He told me to save it for college.


    I cross my arms over my chest, and sigh. I¡¯m beyond frustrated. Dad should let mee home and take care of him. Instead, I just got Harry Potter¡¯d again and left at Hogwarts. Only, instead of magic, this school is full of gorgeous boys. Five of them. And they¡¯re all staying for the break to attend more of their stupid Infinity Club parties.


    The difference this time, is that Lizzie is here, too.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask, blinking and refocusing on my bestie. We haven¡¯t talked about ¡­ the kiss. Not in a while. I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s given up or if she¡¯s still interested. Frankly, I¡¯m scared to find out. I don¡¯t want romantic feelings toe between us and our friendship. If I¡¯m honest, it¡¯s the same issue with the boys. For four of them-if not all five-this rtionship we¡¯ve just started won¡¯t work out. Will we still be friends after? It scares me to think that we won¡¯t because I enjoy theirpany so damn much.


    ¡°I should¡¯ve made Andrew stay here with you,¡± Miranda murmurs, sighing as the bus pulls up and her coach calls for the girls to climb on. ¡°Who needs an overseas trip to Tokyo when you could be here, at gorgeous Burberry Prep, home of a serious Infinity Club throwdown?¡± She pauses her rant, leans over, and gives me a big kiss on the cheek. ¡°Stay safe, don¡¯t do anything stupid, and try not to get killed by Harper before I get back, okay?¡± ¡°What did you mean about the talent show?¡± I ask before she pulls away.


    She shrugs her shoulders, tosses her pony, and then gives me a look.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t think your new beaus are going to fuck that shit up, you¡¯ve got another thinging.¡± Miranda gives me a wink and bounces off to join her team, leaving me standing there and wondering.


    If the old adage, an eye for an eye holds true ¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re going to dump paint on them while they perform, aren¡¯t you?¡± I ask, finding Tristan and Creed waiting for me near the stained ss doors that lead into the chapel. We¡¯re still trying to stick with the chaperone thing. If my boys assaulted the entire Company on their own, then what¡¯s going to happen if the entire Company finds me alone?


    ¡°Paint?¡± Tristan asks, sounding bored. His gray eyes take me in appreciatively, and he lets a naughty little smirk take over his mouth.


    ¡°Definitely not paint,¡± Creed drawls, his white-blond hair catching the light. ¡°That much I can promise.¡± I give him a look, but he just gives me a slow, little wink. ¡°No lies, right?¡±


    ¡°No outright lies, I¡¯m sure, but you¡¯re clearly running circles around me.¡± ¡°Are we, Creed?¡± Tristan asks, tilting his head to one side. ¡°Running


    circles around her, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Creed replies slowly, and I think what a deliciously evil pair they make. If they spent as much time working together as they dopeting with each other, they¡¯d be a serious force to reckon with. I¡¯m wondering if I¡¯m starting to see the beginning of that right here. Creed smiles at me, this deadly twist of lips that makes my heart pound. ¡°But fuck that. We have more important things to worry about, like how we¡¯re going to spend an entire week off school together.¡±


    ¡°I thought you had Infinity Club crap to keep you busy?¡± I ask, and the two Idol boys exchange a nce. They both look so handsome in their uniforms, I don¡¯t even mind that they have to wear them every day. Although it¡¯s always a treat to see what clothes they pick when we¡¯re outside of academy time.


    ¡°Just a few little parties here and there.¡± Tristan moves toward me, and Creed steps up on the opposite side. I¡¯m framed by two glorious Adonis


    boys now. I bite my lip. ¡°The rest of the time we¡¯re ¡­ free.¡± He circles around me and runs a single finger along the back of my shoulder des, making me shiver.


    ¡°Free for all the dirty work,¡± Creed continues, tracing my lower lip with his thumb.


    Tristanes back around to stand beside him, and I realize that I¡¯m shaking slightly. Having the two of them turn their flirtations on me like this makes it feel as if I¡¯m standing under a spotlight. My skin feels tight and achy and hot.


    ¡°What are you going to do while we¡¯re busy?¡± Creed whispers, leaning over so he move his lips against my ear. ¡°Read all of those dirty boys¡¯ loveics you like?¡±


    ¡°Boys¡¯ loveics, huh?¡± Tristan purrs, and then heughs, this sumptuous sound that makes me shiver. ¡°You like watching boys kiss?¡± He nces over as Creed stands back up, reaching out long fingers to touch the smooth, porcin line of his friend¡¯s jaw. Tristan leans in enticingly, eyes closed, lips brushing up on Creed¡¯s cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Oh, deliFious.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± Creed says,zily pushing Tristan away as the Burberry royalughs. The sound is just as cruel as his smile. ¡°Marnye can go read about bad boys teasing their fingers up each other¡¯s shirts.¡± He slides his palm under my jacket to grip my waist. ¡°Or down each other¡¯s pants ¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop that,¡± I whisper, grabbing his wrist as he tries to dip his hand down below the waistband of my skirt. Miranda¡¯s words ring in my head like a bell. Virgin, virgin, virgin. Is he really though? ¡°Yes, I get the point. I can¡¯t wander around the empty school by myself when Harper¡¯s ready to slit my throat. I¡¯ll let you lock me in my room while you party tonight.¡±


    ¡°Tonight, we¡¯ve got nothing to do but let you entertain us,¡± Creed says as he guides me toward the door and Tristan opens it for us. They¡¯re doing an almost disturbingly good job sharing me. It makes me wonder if they¡¯ve ever shared a girl before-other than Lizzie, I mean. Although from what I hear that was pretty tonic.


    Lizzie.


    She¡¯ll be with Tristan at the parties this week, and I won¡¯t.


    My stomach hurts all of a sudden, and I recognize the emotion right away: jealousy.


    ¡°Zayd stole the key for the school theater,¡± Tristan says, tucking his right hand into the front pocket of his zer, his eyes scanning the hall as we walk. He knows as well as I do that even together, the three of us could be ambushed. ¡°We¡¯ll watch a horror movie, something gruesome and bloody.¡±


    ¡°Tristan loves blood,¡± Creed says, and I raise an eyebrow as both boys grin.


    ¡°How many of the Company are left on campus?¡± I ask,


    and Tristan nces back with one dark brow raised.

 197

    ¡°The Company?¡±


    I grin a bit sheepishly, and swish the pleats of my skirt.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve started calling the ex-Bluebloods. In my head, I was just calling them Harper and Co., and I figured it was easier to think of them as the Company.¡±


    ¡°Zayd¡¯s been calling them the Harpies,¡± Creed drawls on the tail-end of a yawn. ¡°Seems apropos for the situation, don¡¯t you think?¡± I grin as we weave our way through the halls of the chapel building, up the stairs, and to the two-story theater that we only get to use to watch boring educational movies.


    Zayd, Windsor, Zack ¡­ and Lizzie are there when we show up. Myron¡¯s there, too, already seated in one of the luxurious ck leather chairs with the automated footrests. Even though he¡¯s weird and dark and kind of a creepy sidekick to Tristan¡¯s elegant viinous charm, I¡¯m d Myron Talbot is here. If it were just me, the boys, and Lizzie Walton, it might be weird.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she says, giving me a little wave, and a smile. She grabs my arm the way Miranda always does and pulls me down several rows to grab a choice seat. ¡°We decided on Pet Sematary for the movie tonight-the new one, not the old one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen the original,¡± I admit. I¡¯m a bit of a baby when ites to horror movies. I¡¯ll probably end up spending half the film with my face buried in someone¡¯s shoulder. Zack sits down on my left, and I feel this little


    ¡­ sparkle inside of me. Soundsme as hell, I know, but how else could I possibly describe it? He smiles at me, his full lower lip drawing my attention. There¡¯s a little dip in the center that I desperately wish I could run my tongue over. ¡°I hope you¡¯re prepared to see a side of me you never wanted to know,¡± I warn, giving Zack a fair chance to escape.


    ¡°There¡¯s no part of you I wouldn¡¯t want to know,¡± he says, and the other boys groan.


    ¡°Good god, chum,y off a little, would you? Give the rest of us blokes a chance to schmooze thedy.¡± Windsor flops into the chair behind me, and wraps his arms around my neck. All the feels, man, all of them. I get all twisted inside, but like, in such a way that I never want toe undone. Does that make sense? I have no idea.


    ¡°Just speaking the truth,¡± Zack says, putting his hands behind his head. He¡¯s switched out of his uniform and into a tight ck wifebeater and ck board shorts. He must know how beautiful I find his arms, all of those muscles, the hard strength in those biceps.


    Zayd sits in front of me, his ashyvender hair begging for another touch, and Tristan sits next to Lizzie. Not my favorite thing in the world, but I ignore it. I¡¯m going to y fair here. If something happens between them, then so be it. I¡¯m not going to force feelings, manipte them, or try to destroy them. What¡¯s the point in that? There¡¯s no fight between me and Lizzie. There¡¯s no fight at all. How we feel is how we feel.


    ¡°So, how does this group dating thing work?¡± Myron asks, his voice dark, his hand buried in a bowl of popcorn. Zayd is fiddling with the remote, and I can smell the faintest hint of butter and salt in the air. A timer goes off somewhere, and Zack makes a sound of pleasure, rising to his feet to go tend to it. I¡¯m praying it¡¯s fresh popcorn.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you mind your own fucking business, and let us worry about that?¡± Tristan says, leaning back in his chair, and pressing the button for his footrest. It lifts up nice and slow, raising his shiny loafers up to knee-height. He keeps pressing it until his ankles are even higher and he¡¯s lounging back just a bit.


    ¡°I¡¯m just trying to understand how the sex works,¡± Myron continues, and Tristan leans forward, dropping his feet to either side of the leg rest so he can poke his friend in the back of the head.


    ¡°Mind your damn business, Talbot. We aren¡¯t sleeping with Marnye-not just yet.¡± Tristan and I meet eyes across Lizzie¡¯sp, and a shiver goes through me. I try really hard not to think about the two of them having sex, but ¡­ they must have, right? I mean, there¡¯s no way for me to ask, so what¡¯s the point in getting nervous about it?


    ¡°Do we have rules about that?¡± Zack asks, reappearing with the popcorn and handing it over to me. Our fingers brush, and I get that glittery, shiny, sparkly feeling all over again. ¡°I mean, are we trying to take it slow or ¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all just ¡­ dating,¡± I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. I reach my right hand up to tousle my hair. Before she left, Miranda gave it a sexy little curl on the top that I wish I knew how to recreate on my own. I even let her do my makeup with that steady hand of hers. No matter how many YouTube videos I watch, I¡¯m just no good at it. ¡°Whatever happens, happens.¡± I pause as Lizzie looks over at me with her pretty amber eyes. ¡°Or doesn¡¯t happen. Whatever doesn¡¯t happen is fine, too.¡±


    ¡°Soda?¡± Wind asks on the end of augh, a cooler situated in the chair next to him. He hands me an ice-cold Coke, and then gives out beer to everyone else. Sometimes I wonder what it¡¯d be like to get drunk, just once. But then I can¡¯t decide if that¡¯s the addiction in my DNA talking, or natural curiosity.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Zayd says as he finally gets the movie started up and cranks the volume. ¡°Let¡¯s see what sort of scaredy-cat Marnye really is.¡± He turns around, and I catch a glimpse of that Never Again tattoo on his neck. I want to ask what it means, if it¡¯s in reference to me or not. Or perhaps I¡¯m just being narcissistic? ¡°And Charity,¡± he sits up in his seat so that he¡¯s kneeling, leans forward, and presses a kiss to one of my knees. Heat rockets through me, and I feel a bead of sweat run down the side of my face. ¡°If you get scared, juste sit on myp, okay?¡±


    I chuck a piece of popcorn at him, and he catches it in his mouth.


    We bothugh, but only until the movie gets started. And then, you know, I do end up in ap. Zack is closest, so he gets the honor, and I spend the rest of my movie with the steel band of his arm around my waist, and my face buried in the warm, sweet-smelling crook between his neck and shoulder.


    I wish I could spend every e


    vening just like that.

 198

    The boys and I get to spend most of the break together, eating breakfast in The Mess, or downing those tiny snack-sized boxes of cereal in my dorm. But then Wednesday hits, and they disappear to their parties. I¡¯m not sure what sort of bets they¡¯re making, but I have a feeling it all goes back to my list.


    Something big ising.


    The Company or the Harpies, or whatever you want to call them, are going to pay dearly. I can feel it.


    I try not to worry about it and enjoy some time off from studying, rxing in my room and reading, ying the harp-but only when Mr. Carter is around for protection-or texting Miranda, Andrew, and Dad.


    On Saturday, the boys surprise me by showing up at my door.


    ¡°Come on, Marnye,¡± Zack says, reaching out his hand for mine. Lizzie and Myron aren¡¯t with them, and I raise an eyebrow as I nce down at my tank top and sweats.


    ¡°I¡¯m not really dressed to go out-¡± I start, but Zack just grins and grabs my wrist anyway, tugging me out of the room and pulling me into his arms.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pajama party,¡± Zayd says, and I notice then that he¡¯s barefoot and wearing shorts, and a loose tank that shows off all of his tattoos. He¡¯s also smoking a clove cigarette that I deftly pluck from his lips, tap out against the stone floor, and chuck into the nearest trash can.


    ¡°You all really are wearing pajamas,¡± I say as I study Tristan¡¯s crisp ck satin pajama set with the subtle white pinstripe, and the stuffy slippers that look like suede loafers. Creed¡¯s got on white linen pj pants, and nothing else


    -no shirt, no shoes. Zack¡¯s in loose-fitting boxers and an old football jersey, and Windsor¡¯s seriously dressed up in nnel pj¡¯s with penguins on them.


    Penguins.


    Cartoon freaking penguins.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re a prince?¡± I ask him, and he pauses, reaching into the bag on his shoulder and pulling out two stic gold crowns. He puts one on my head, and then ces the other atop his ming red hair.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t until just now,¡± he says, hazel eyes glittering with mischief. ¡°But with my princess by my side, and the royal jewels safely ensconced¡±-he grabs his crotch and I roll my eyes while the other boys scowl-¡°in these gorgeous robes of state, I¡¯m now positive: I am absolutely not king material. Prince, I can do. Princes get to frolic and fuck and crash yachts into harbors.¡± I almost stop walking at the frank way he¡¯s just blurted his truth. But then I look a little closer, and I see darkness and shadows dancing behind his mask of cheerful, carefree wonder. Windsor York is hurting on the inside. What¡¯s wrong, exactly, I don¡¯t know, but I want to find out. ¡°Anyway,¡± he continues, blowing past the emotions, ¡°I¡¯m perfectly suited to be a prince, but never a king. Perhaps that¡¯s why I enjoy scandals so much? All the attention makes me giddy.¡±


    He hooks his arm with mine, and our little group makes its way to the library.


    The cavernous ceilings, the towering columns of books, and the cozy glow from themps invites us in, but when I look around, I notice that all the librarians are missing.


    ¡°Skeleton staff on-campus right now,¡± Zayd says, swinging around a huge ring full of keys. ¡°And I pilfered the master key, so we¡¯re golden. We¡¯ve got this ce all to ourselves.¡± He holds his inked arms out to indicate the massive library. ¡°Beauty, your library awaits.¡±


    I grin as I follow Tristan and Creed deeper into the rows of novels, the fresh scent of ink and paper surrounding us.


    A thought urs to me.


    ¡°Were you the one who stole the keys to my locker, and my dorm room during first year?¡± I ask, and Zayd cringes. He nces back at me with an apology in his emerald eyes.


    ¡°What can I say? I¡¯m a fucking prick.¡± He pauses and waits for me to catch up to him, reaching down and taking one of my hands in his. Zayd gives it a little squeeze and then lifts my knuckles to his lips for a kiss, his lip rings teasing my skin with a little tickle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Charity, I really am.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve forgiven you, Zayd,¡± I tell him, looking into his eyes and getting lost there. ¡°Just don¡¯t disappoint me again, okay?¡± He pulls me toward him, and


    lifts me in his arms as Iugh, carrying me over to a ring of white candles.


    The boys have pushed aside one of the study tables, and set up a circle with candles and pillows. There are several bottles of alcohol gathered there, the liquid glowing a deep amber brown in the candlelight. Tristan takes a seat beside it, and I notice there are exactly six cushionsid out for us.


    ¡°We skipped the rest of the Club party,¡± he says, voice smooth, a Lucun feast for the ears. ¡°We¡¯ve aplished what we needed to.¡±


    ¡°And it was oh-so fun,¡± Creed adds, sprawling onto his own pillow. He looks boneless, the way he lounges.


    ¡°If the Company didn¡¯t want to deal with a firestorm, they shouldn¡¯t have shot the first bullet,¡± Zack growls, and that darkness I remember from junior highes rushing back in. His brown eyes are heavy-lidded, and as I watch, he rakes his fingers through his brte hair. There¡¯s something going on between him, his dad, and his grandfather. That much is obvious. I mean, the family waspletely cut-off from funds and Zack was sent to Lower Banks High with me. It doesn¡¯t get much worse than that. What kind of man would force his grandson into a school that breeds gang members, dropouts, and assholes?


    Okay, so I guess Burberry Prep is a breeding ground for assholes, too, but still.


    This time, though, when I see Zack¡¯s darkness rush to the surface, I don¡¯t cringe away from it the way I did when he started to tear Ileana down in the gym. No, this time I watch it happen and I wonder what I can do to help


    ¡°From now on, I¡¯ll try to be a better man. It wasn¡¯t Marnye¡¯s job to teaFh me how to be one,Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    but she already has anyway.¡±

 199

    It might not be my job, but I want to help Zack. I want to help all of these boys. And maybe that¡¯s a problem. Reforming a bad boy, changing a bully, those are pretty lofty ideals. In the real world, it doesn¡¯t often go right. But these guys are my friends now, they¡¯re ¡­ I¡¯ve forgiven them. I really have.


    It¡¯s freeing in a way, that forgiveness. And it¡¯s cathartic somehow, to find out that they really are human on the inside. They have wants and needs,


    pleasures and pains, faults and heroisms. Basically ¡­ they¡¯re just people.


    Zayd sets me down on my own cushion and takes up the one on my right.


    I¡¯m waxing poetic yet again. Must be all the hormones.


    Yep. That¡¯s it.


    The fucking hormones.


    ¡°We thought you might like a game of truth or dare,¡± Zack says, turning to look at me, scanning me with that soulful umber gaze of his, taking me in. ¡°Like an Infinity Club party, but without all the bullshit.¡±


    ¡°Rules still apply though,¡± Zayd says with a grin, gesturing at Tristan with an inked hand that¡¯s covered in rings, and a wrist full of rubber bracelets from past concerts. ¡°No chickening out. No fucking way. Now pass me the rum.¡±


    Tristan pours a generous helping of alcohol into a red stic cup (it wouldn¡¯t be a party without them!) and then passes it around the circle until it makes its way to Zayd. Everyone else gets their drink of choice: vodka for Creed, a beer for Zack, gin for Windsor, and cognac for Tristan. Seems appropriate. That¡¯s how I think of his voice, nice and smooth and velvety. I¡¯ve never had it, but I¡¯ve heard Dad go off on tangents before.


    The boys have brought me a bunch of cold drinks, all non-alcoholic, and I smile. They never forget, and I appreciate that.


    ¡°Once you empty that beer, Zack,¡± Zayd says, his husky rockstar voice echoing around the quiet library. ¡°We can y spin the bottle. But only if Marnye is the one who¡¯s spinning it. I¡¯m not kissing any of you assholes.¡±


    ¡°You will if we y a round of truth or dare,¡± I say with a smile. Zayd nces over at me and raises his pierced brow, grinning all the while.


    ¡°Word on the street is you like gay romance novels,¡± he says with a chuckle, and I flush.


    ¡°I read the asional boys¡¯ love manga, but that¡¯s about it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let her fool you: those things are practically porn,¡± Creed drawls, still lying on his side, his elbow propping his head up. ¡°Anal sex, blow jobs, plenty of cum. Buckets of it, really.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re as crass as your sister,¡± I choke out, unscrewing the top on a bottle of tropical juice. Pineapple, I think it is. Nice and tangy.


    ¡°So you like to read your porn instead of watch it?¡± Zack asks with a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating through me. ¡°Makes things easier on campus, that¡¯s for sure. Fuck the no phone rule.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been working on cracking that shit since day one. I mean, I¡¯ve figured out how to sneak a phone in, but I swear there¡¯s literally no service out here, and the Wi-fi is locked down hard. They¡¯re freaking Nazis about that shit.¡± Zayd lies down on his stomach, his cup already emptied, and pillows his head on his hands.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a satellite phone,¡± Windsor says, unbuttoning the top two buttons on his stupid penguin pajamas. His stupid penguin pajamas that I actually really like. ¡°It doesn¡¯t exactly run apps, but I can make calls. That¡¯s as far as I¡¯ve gotten.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because of my mother,¡± Creed says, still lounging, draped over his cushion like anguid doll. ¡°She helped Principal Collins set up the closedwork. Unless you¡¯re a tech genius like her, you¡¯re not getting in. Say goodbye to weekday Facebook posts while you¡¯re at Burberry.¡±


    ¡°Good thing Marnye¡¯s got her porn in print then,¡± Tristan adds, smirking at me. I throw the cap to my juice across the circle, but he just catches it in his palm like it¡¯s nothing. ¡°I prefer ¡­ to actually fuck, instead of watching porn. Although I¡¯ll be the first to admit: I¡¯ve had a bit of a dry spelltely.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s also Kleenex and Jergens,¡± Zack says mildly, and I flush, thinking about that trash can full of tissues at the B&B. Ugh, how embarrassing. At least I know I wasn¡¯t the only person who touched myself that night.


    ¡°Oh, trust me, I¡¯ve got toys in my rooms. Better than tissues and lotion.


    But they don¡¯t help, not when Marnye¡¯s around.¡±


    ¡°Tristan, shut up,¡± I blurt, but he just keeps smiling at me in that not-quite- so-nice way of his.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start a game,¡± he murmurs, his voice a seductive song. ¡°Let¡¯s y truth or dare. I¡¯ll go first. Marnye.¡± Hah. Of Fourse Tristan wants to go first, and of course he¡¯s looking right at me. ¡°Truth or dare.¡±


    ¡°Truth,¡± I whisper, because I¡¯m afraid to see what sort of dare he¡¯ll level my way. Frankly, I should probably be afraid of what he¡¯s going to ask me for truth, too, but I figure it¡¯s the lesser of two evils. Tristan chuckles and shakes his head, raven-ck hair falling across his forehead in shimmering strands.


    ¡°Marnye, Marnye, Marnye, that¡¯s the easy way out.¡± Tristan is sitting nice and straight still, his legs folded underneath him, hands sped in hisp. I¡¯d love to see him let go for once, get messy. ¡°But okay. Truth: are you really a virgin?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Just that one word, but saying it in front of these guys makes it so different. I can feel them looking at me. I can imagine the taste of each one of their lips, the feel of their hands, the white-hot re inside of me when we make eye contact.


    Tristan smirks, nods, and then lifts his hand to indicate me. ¡°Fair enough. Now it¡¯s your turn.¡±


    Creed is smirking, too, and the way he¡¯s lying there reminds me of azy housecat, all content and full of itself.


    ¡°Fine. I choose Creed.¡± I give him a hard look. ¡°Truth or dare.¡± ¡°Dare.¡± His heavy-lidded eyes hold a challenge.


    ¡®¡±I dare you to kiss Tristan Vanderbilt on the lips.¡± The smile that lights my face is pure pleasure. Zayd howls withughter, and Zack grins. Windsor just sits there with that sparkling glint in his eyes.


    The elder Cabot twin scowls at me and pushes up to a sitting position, tossing white-blond hair from his face with a flourish.


    ¡°You think I won¡¯t do it?¡± he scoffs, this haughty air of self-confidence clinging to his every move. ¡°You¡¯re about to learn a hard lesson, Miss Reed.¡± Creed gets up on his knees and crawls toward Tristan. I get this feeling of deja vu, like maybe I¡¯ve read a scene just like this in a manga, or a book, or something. Maybe that AliFe in Wondend retelling that Miranda made me read? What was it called? Allison¡¯s Adventures in Undend?


    Oh well.


    I¡¯m still excited.


    I bite my lower lip, and then watch as Creed approaches a scowling Tristan, putting his fingers on either side of the other boy¡¯s face.


    ¡°Please,¡± Tristan snorts, pushing his hands away, and then grabbing Creed by the wrists. ¡°We both know you¡¯re a bottom, and I¡¯m a top. We may as well as act the parts.¡±


    ¡°Screw you,¡± Creed snarls at him, pulling his wrists back. Tristan doesn¡¯t let him go, and the two guys re at each other. Tristan keeps one hand on Creed¡¯s wrists, and puts the other against the side of his friend¡¯s face. They both look over at me.


    ¡°This must be payback for all those times we made bets to get Infinity Club girls to make out with each other,¡± Tristan murmurs, and then, with his eyes still locked on mine, he leans forward and presses his mouth against Creed¡¯s, parting the other boy¡¯s lips with his tongue.


    For five blissful seconds, I get to see a fantasy brought to life, two of the cruelest boys in the academy kissing one another, their legs partially tangled. Tristan¡¯s fingers slide up and into Creed¡¯s hair, and that¡¯s when he puts a stop to it, shoving the Vanderbilt boy back with a scowl.


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t know better, I might think you were really into me,¡± Creed says, shoving his arm across his mouth.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯d only be so lucky,¡± Tristan purrs as Creed washes his mouth out with vodka and swallows a generous amount of alcohol.


    He waves his hand in Zack¡¯s direction. ¡°You. Brooks. Truth or dare.¡±


    ¡°Dare,¡± Zack says, narrowing his eyes to slits and focusing his attention on Creed in challenge. ¡°Give me your worst, Cabot.¡±


    ¡°I dare you to make yourselfe. Right now. In front of everyone.¡± Creed¡¯s face is absolutely wicked as he spits out his directive, and Zack lets out a series of mumbled curses, raking his fingers through his hair. He nces over at me, and my cheeks flush warm.


    ¡°You can tell him no, and do a truth instead,¡± I suggest, but Zack looks determined, and that scares me.


    ¡°In our version of the game, you get one chance to swap a truth for a dare, or vice versa. If you fail again, you lose, you¡¯re out.¡± Zayd sits up, like he¡¯s gearing up for a particrly vicious game. These boys sure do like making bets, whether or not they¡¯re doing it in an official Infinity Club capacity. It¡¯s a symptom of their privilege, theirck of ever wanting for anything. They need challenge; they crave it.


    ¡°What does the winner get?¡± I ask, and Zayd grins, shrugging inked shoulders at me.


    ¡°Bragging rights?¡±


    ¡°How about a trophy?¡± I counter, and he cringes, pretending to brush off a burn.


    ¡°Ouch, Charity, ouch.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Zack says, nostrils ring as he pulls in a deep inhale, and then


    ¡­ spits in his palm. Holy Frap. He slides his hand inside his boxers, his eyes focused on mine. I can¡¯t see anything, but I definitely notice the change in his breathing, his dted pupils, the sweat that beads on his forehead.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ hardcore, man,¡± Zaydughs, chuggi


    ng another shot¡¯s worth of rum. ¡°Show us what you¡¯ve got.¡±

 200

    ¡°Shut the hell up, dickhead,¡± Zack grumbles, closing his eyes. I¡¯m not sure how long it takes, but with the way my skin aches, and the way my core flushes with warmth, it feels like forever. I shift and wiggle on the cushion, d that I¡¯m not sitting on anyone¡¯sp.


    With a deep, guttural groan, Zack finishes, and I can see his muscles going tight, body shivering with climax. He exhales sharply and hangs his head for a minute. Windsor digs into the bag by his side and pulls out a roll of paper towels, tossing them Zack¡¯s way.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ¡­ be right back.¡± Zack takes the paper towels, and I nce away so he can have a second of privacy. He then disappears in the direction of the bathrooms.


    ¡°Well, holy shit,¡± Zayd whispers with a chuckle. ¡°He seriously did it.


    Maybe I don¡¯t hate the guy quite so much after all?¡±


    ¡°Is there a reason you guys hated him in the first ce?¡± I ask, looking between the three Idol boys.


    ¡°Besides the bet he made with Lizzie?¡± Zayd asks, shrugging his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s just always been an asshole. He never liked the status quo.¡± His grin gets a little lopsided, and he reaches out to ruffle my rose-gold hair. ¡°Little bit like you, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I say, but my heart is still racing, and I can¡¯t believe I just saw that. Zack, masturbating, right in front of me. And I liked it, too. It feels so wrong, sitting in a ce we¡¯re not supposed to be, with a stolen set of keys, hard liquor, and a game with no real prize.


    Just because.


    We¡¯re doing this for the fun of it.


    Zackes back fairly quickly, face flushed, and sits with one knee up, his elbow propped against it, and his face in his hand. He looks right at me, too, and shrugs those broad shoulders of his.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re not like, scarred for life,¡± he says, and I get one of those rare, warm smiles of his.


    ¡°If I were going to me anyone for the trauma, it¡¯d be fucking Creed,¡± I say, giving him a look and taking a sip of my juice. He just stares at me with those bedroom eyes of his, and then smirks.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Zack says, sitting up straight and ncing over at Windsor. ¡°Your Majesty, truth or dare?¡±


    Windsor reaches up and fixes his stic crown.


    ¡°Truth. Because any idiot can jump through hoops, but it¡¯s much more difficult toy your soul bare. Have at me, you fuckin¡¯ wanker.¡± Zack flips Wind off, but the gesture does nothing to clear the haughty expression of superiority on the prince¡¯s face.


    ¡°Fine. Have it your way.¡± Zack lifts the bottle of beer to his full lips and studies the prince through narrowed eyes. ¡°Why the fuck did you crash that yacht into the harbor? There¡¯s a girl still in the hospital, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    Windsor¡¯s face ¡­ God, if I could only describe the way he shuts down. There¡¯s a hardness thates over his features that¡¯s ten times worse than the stony mask that Tristan wears.


    ¡°Technically,¡± he says, his voice ice-cold, ¡°that¡¯s two questions. Pick one.¡±


    ¡°How did you end up crashing?¡± Zack repeats, and Windsor reaches up to take off his crown, spinning it around in his fingers, his hazel eyes so dark they look more like Tristan¡¯s charcoal gray than their usual bright multi- faceted brilliance.


    ¡°I¡¯d had too much coke, too much booze, and I was angry; I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly.¡±


    He stops talking and just stares at me.


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, but Windsor simply turns to Zayd and ignores my question. ¡°You. Rocker boy. Truth or dare?¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Zayd starts, rolling onto his back, so he can stare up at the tin ceiling tiles. Even with the weird atmosphere, and Windsor¡¯s dodgy answer to Zack¡¯s question, it¡¯s pretty cozy in here. How could it not be, with all these books? ¡°Dare.¡±


    ¡°I dare you,¡± Windsor says, chucking his crown into the center of the circle, ¡°to text your dad and tell him how much you hate being ignored.¡± He nces up and meets Zayd¡¯s eyes. ¡°Right now. Text him and tell him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell him that,¡± Zayd says, rearing back like he¡¯s been struck. ¡°Are you stupid or insane or both? If I send him a message like that, he¡¯ll go off on me. He doesn¡¯t like when I say shit like that.¡±


    ¡°Then I double dare you to tell Marnye how you feel about her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s basically a truth,¡± Zayd murmurs, sweeping his fingers through hisvender-ash hair. ¡°You really do like to stir the pot, huh?¡±


    Windsor just smiles.


    ¡°I just love honesty from others-even when it hurts.¡±


    ¡°Even if you¡¯re not being transparent yourself?¡± Zayd quips back, and the two men stare at each other. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ fine then.¡± He nces over at me, and our eyes meet. ¡°I told you I liked you from day one, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°You did.¡±


    Zayd just keeps staring at me.


    ¡°Well, I like you better than any girl I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called truth or dare, not bullshit or dare,¡± Wind says, and Zayd growls. It¡¯s purely a musical sound, too, like it belongs in the middle of one of his raunchier songs.


    ¡°Says the guy who gave a non-answer himself.¡± Zayd turns back to me and sighs, putting his forehead in his hand and resting it there for a minute as he looks at me. ¡°I think ¡­ maybe I¡¯ve been in love with you since that Halloween party. Not first year¡¯s, but ¡­ second year. When you came dressed as a cookie, and you danced like crazy, and you fucked Creed over with that fake journal.¡±


    ¡°In love with me?¡± I ask, and Zayd sighs, closing his green eyes. ¡°Yep. Pretty much.¡±Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    Okay, that¡¯s it. Between the kissing boys, and the masturbation, and love Fonfessions ¡­ this is not like any pajama party I¡¯ve ever been to. And then it urs to me that I never really had friends before, so the only pajama parties I¡¯ve actually attended are between me and Miranda.


    ¡°Yep, pretty much?¡± I squeak, and Zayd blinks at me.


    ¡°Truth or dare, Charity,¡± he whispers, and his voice is raw and open, like he¡¯s just cracked a stone and shown me the most beautiful geode on the inside.


    ¡°Truth.¡±


    Because I don¡¯t think I can move from this spot, much less do something embarrassing like touch myself in front of everyone.


    ¡°Which one of us do you like best?¡± Zayd asks, and my heart stutters a few times before it picks back up at a galloping pace.


    ¡°I don¡¯t kn


    ow.¡±


    And there¡¯s no answer truer than that.

 201

    this year which is weird as hell. We¡¯re in central California, for heaven¡¯s sake.


    ¡°Global warming,¡± Miranda says, as she stands there with her palms lifted toward the sky, tiny kes melting on her palms. Tonight¡¯s the talent show, but nobody really cares anymore, since all anyone wants to do is y in the snow or-depending on their year in school-talk about the winter formal, the ski trip, or, for us third years, the option of a weekend trip to San Francisco to see the ballet and the symphony.


    It¡¯s not hard to figure out what I want to do. Even though Dad and I have used those tickets Zack bought us a couple of times already, I can never get enough. We even used the third pass to take our old neighbor, Mrs. Fleming. She might be deaf, but she said she could feel the vibrations and enjoyed the show anyway.


    ¡°You know what John said to me today?¡± Andrew says, tucking his hands into his pockets and shivering as white fluff settles across the gardens. It¡¯s not thick or heavy enough of a snowfall to be much fun as of yet, but it¡¯s getting there. Every student at Burberry Prep is praying it gets deep enough to go sledding.


    ¡°If global warming is real, why is it so Fold out?¡± Miranda mimics as she rolls her eyes dramatically. ¡°We all heard him today. At least he got in- school suspension from Ms. Felton for snapping that poor first-year girl¡¯s bra. He¡¯s such an asshole.¡±


    ¡°Did you all decide on what you¡¯re doing for winter activities?¡± I ask, interrupting the conversation. Thest person in the world I want to talk about is John Hannibal. He¡¯s a piece of shit human, and his dad¡¯s politics suck, so there. ¡°Because you know I¡¯m going to the orchestra, right?¡±


    ¡°Wherever you go, the boys will follow,¡± Andrew says, almost longingly. He leans back on the pic table and stares up at the swirling kes, a white beanie pulled down over his ears. ¡°I¡¯m beyond jealous. I wish boys followed me around like lost puppies.¡±


    ¡°They would if you¡¯d just let your freak g fly,¡± Miranda chides, pausing as Lizzie and Tristan appear,ing out the doors of the chapel building. Ugh. My heart pounds when I see them together, but I ignore it. Like I said, I have to let the pieces fall as they may. I¡¯m not into sabotage.


    On Thanksgiving Day, we all ate in The Mess together, and the academy kitchen team prepared a pretty traditional meal. Lizzie sat next to Tristan then, too, and it urred to me that she really is seeking him out. She¡¯s making an effort. And yet, she¡¯s still wearing her engagement ring. She¡¯s as torn as Andrew is, between reality and a distant dream.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    I¡¯m a bit of a plucky optimist: I always choose the dream.


    ¡°Tristan, are you going on the San Francisco trip or ¡­¡± I start, trailing off and huddling deeper into one of Zack¡¯s hoodies. He left it in my room on ident, and well, it¡¯s big and soft, and I love the smell too much to give it back. Grapefruit and nutmeg, that¡¯s what it reminds me of.


    ¡°San Francisco trip,¡± he says, and Lizzie bites her lip.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to the winter formal,¡± she says with a small sigh. ¡°My dad arranged for a visitor¡¯s pass, so Marcel could take me.¡± She doesn¡¯t sound particrly happy about that, and I notice Tristan¡¯s shoulders get tense.


    He moves past her and out from under the awning, so he can nce up at the dusky sky, and the swirling snow.


    Zackes out a momentter, spots me in his hoodie, and grins as he pops over to sit beside me. Even with the stolen hoodie, I¡¯m still freezing, so I burrow into him and eventually end up sitting between his legs, his big, warm body draped over mine. I like it best that way, being swallowed up by Zack and his heavy winter coat.


    ¡°We need to get you a new jacket,¡± he says, but we both know I already have one that Miranda bought for mest year. I¡¯d just rather wear his hoodie is all. ¡°Not that I mind you wearing my sweater.¡± He chuckles and nuzzles against my ear, giving me serious butterflies, a whole swarm of


    them. His muscr arms are banded around me, squeezing tight, and I rx into them.


    ¡°You¡¯re going on the San Francisco trip?¡± I ask, and Miranda sighs dramatically.


    ¡°Hey, you, crazy person,¡± she says, moving over to stand in front of me, looking like a model with her sheet of shiny hair, designer ski outfit, and bright pink jacket. She points at me and pokes me in the forehead. ¡°I told you: wherever you go, the guys will follow, stop asking.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± Zack asks, because Creed isn¡¯t the only one who knows about the kiss between me and Miranda. Somehow, they all do, and they¡¯re jealous as hell about it. Maybe they see her as a serious threat?


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m going to San Francisco,¡± she scoffs, checking the time on her watch. ¡°It¡¯s a third year right to go.¡± She drops her arm by her side and gives me a look. ¡°It¡¯s almost time to get ready. That is, if you don¡¯t want to get onstage with mussy hair and poorly done makeup.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you so sweet,¡± I tease, scooping up a bit of snow and chucking it at her.


    ¡°We need to be on time for the talent show,¡± Tristan says, turning to look at us, his hands buried in the pockets of his gray wool coat. ¡°It¡¯s imperative.¡± ¡°You guys have something nned,¡± I say, ncing back at Zack, but he gives nothing away. His face looks like it always does, serious and deep and dark. I reach up and tug on a lock of his brown hair, but he just raises his


    brows and says nothing.


    I guess it doesn¡¯t matter.


    I¡¯m


    about to find out anyway.

 202

    It actually snows at Burberry Prep


    The auditorium is packed, but there¡¯s a general sense of irritation from the crowd. Attendance ispulsory, but everyone really just wants to dick around in the snow. Doesn¡¯t bother me. I¡¯m just using the show as a point of interest on my college application, and also to practice for the winter concert. Next week, I¡¯m traveling for a cheerpetition in Los Angeles, so I won¡¯t be able to y the harp all weekend.


    Part of me wonders if I should quit the team. I¡¯m not particrly invested in or excited by cheering, or by sports in general really, but it¡¯s a good way to stay in shape, and it does add some interest to my resume. Anyway, even though half the girls on the squad are Company members that hate me and my guys, I can¡¯t ditch Coach Hannah and the others just before our first realpetition.


    We¡¯ve done a few local things, but we haven¡¯te back with any medals or trophies just yet. I don¡¯t think this time will be different, but we¡¯ve gotten a hell of a lot better since third year started, so who knows?


    Zayd is one the first performers to take the stage, and he gets quite the warm wee from the crowd. Part of that, I¡¯m sure, is because of his outfit: these tight leather pants that cup his ass like a second skin, and a loose, torn tank with some old band logo on the front. He might be ying an acoustic guitar, but he looks like he¡¯s ready for a rock concert.


    I sneak out from backstage, and stand at the edge of the auditorium, my heart singing as he ys his song in front of the whole school. Becky calls out some bullshit from behind the curtain, but I don¡¯t let her words bother me because they¡¯re tinged with jealousy. That, and Zayd ¡­ he told me he loves me, didn¡¯t he?


    It¡¯s a huge thing, those few words. They mean a whole hell of a lot.


    Just before he leaves the stage, Zayd gives me a wink and a kiss, takes a bow, and exits stage left.


    I¡¯m up just after him, so I have to scramble to get backstage before the harp¡¯s wheeled into ce, and I head out in front of the crowd to a mixed reception of boos and cheers. Doesn¡¯t matter at this point. I¡¯m used to it. The first few times I yed after the incident during first year were hard, but it¡¯s gotten easier and easier, and I know I can¡¯t let fear keep me from doing what I love.


    So I sit down on that stool, and I sweep my fingers across the strings, closing my eyes and letting the melody drift in the air like the snowkes swirling from the ebon-dark sky outside. There¡¯s a crisp, cold snap to the air that makes the world seem so much more vivid. Sometimes when I y the harp, it feels like I¡¯m weaving sound from the air, tucking random notes into a loom until I¡¯ve crafted somethingpletely new.


    As is often the case, I drift away as I pluck the strings, swaying slightly with the music. There¡¯s some noise and movement from backstage, a very distinct grunt, and some arguing, but I don¡¯t pay attention to any of it. I¡¯m at


    the part of the song where the pace picks up and I feel like I¡¯m tickling the instrument, making itugh and sing with each brush of my fingers.


    My eyes drift up and find several empty seats in the front of the auditorium where the boys should be. Miranda, Lizzie, and Andrew are there, but none of my guys. Not a single one. I finish off my song, and listen to the smattering of pping and a few raucous shouts that are quickly stifled by the staff.


    Rising to my feet, I take a bow and head backstage to find Zack, Windsor, and Zayd in a stand-off with some of the Harpies.


    ¡°One day, we¡¯re going to catch you in the right ce at the right time,¡± Jalen Donner sneers, rubbing some blood off his face with his sleeve. ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking kill Tristan Vanderbilt. Where is that pussy anyway? Too busy screwing somebody else¡¯s girlfriend?¡±


    ¡°You are so damn lucky,¡± Ileana Taittinger sneers at me, dressed up in some ridiculous white jumpsuit. All the Company girls are participating in a song and dance routine set to Mariah Carey¡¯s All I Want for Christmas Is You. From what little I saw of it during auditions, it¡¯s pretty horrendous.


    ¡°How so?¡± I ask, folding my arms over the long, red dress I¡¯m wearing. It¡¯s so sparkly and pretty, and long and flowy enough to be worn while I y.


    ¡°These wankers thought they could get one over on us,¡± Windsor says, stepping forward, and snatching a sword from one of the prop racks for the drama club¡¯s uing rendition of the NutFraFker. He whips the wooden de around in a circle, and takes up a fighting stance that clearly shows he¡¯s had his fair share of fencing lessons. ¡°They were going to throw fire crackers onstage while you were ying.¡±


    My brows go up. Damn.


    A firecracker could easily take my fingers off. Maybe that was the point, huh?From N?velDrama.Org.


    I look down at the floor and see scattered fireworks, matches, and a few lighters. When Harper and Beckye out of the dressing room, they don¡¯t look happy to see me standing there unscathed.


    ¡°Nice wigs,¡± I say, and Kiara seriously throws herself at me. Zack catches her and shoves her back, making her stumble in her heels.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch my fucking girlfriend, or you¡¯ll see how quickly I break that no violence rule of hers. See, she¡¯s a real ss act. Me, I¡¯m a fucking


    asshole. I¡¯m not afraid to talk about your daddy¡¯s affairs, or the three young pregnant women suing him for child support.¡±


    ¡°Shut your goddamn mouth!¡± Kiara snaps, hissing under her breath. There¡¯s a trio of Pleb girls onstage whose music is loud enough to drown out our fight. Of Fourse there are zero staff members back here. Makes me wonder how many of the teachers Harper¡¯s paid to look the other way.


    But then Mrs. Amberton and Ms. Hignde in from outside, a weepy Ebony Peterson standing between them. I have no idea what ruse she¡¯s pulling, but she scowls as soon as she sees me.


    ¡°Where did all of these fireworkse from?¡± Mrs. Amberton asks, her gaze flying up to meet mine. She seems genuinely concerned which is nice. I make myself smile.


    ¡°One of the first year boys dropped a box of them and took off,¡± Harper says, fanning herself. Her bodysuit is so tight, she¡¯s got a camel toe. Swear on my life, I couldn¡¯t make that up if I tried. Her wig is clearly expensive, made of real human hair, and as glossy and shiny as Miranda¡¯s real hair.


    First opportunity I get, I¡¯m snatching it off.


    The song ying onstage peters out, and we can hear the crowd pping. ¡°Harper du Pont and the Bluebloods,¡± Mr. Carter announces, and I roll my


    eyes. Ex-Bluebloods is more like it.


    ¡°Break a leg,¡± Zayd purrs as the girls strut past him. ¡°Literally, please. I want to see some bone.¡±


    ¡°Eat shit, Zayd,¡± Becky growls as she saunters past.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zack says, taking me by the elbow. ¡°Go sit i


    n the audience with Miranda, okay?¡±

 203

    I give him a look.


    ¡°Remember our little conversation?¡± Windsor asks, spinning the wooden sword in a circle as the Company boys look on suspiciously. I think the prince might actually be able to kick their asses with it if he wanted to. That is, until he gets a scolding and a mark from Ms. Hignd for messing with props he¡¯s not supposed to be touching.


    ¡°Our turn to y dirty,¡± Zayd whispers, pushing me toward the stairs. I do as he asks, taking the seat between Miranda and Lizzie.


    The stage lights darken, and the song starts up. Slowly, the spotlight fades to life and Harper turns around, grabbing the microphone and singing Mariah¡¯s notes in a fairly impressive imitation of the famous song. I guess there¡¯s a reason she¡¯s head of the choir.


    Once she starts dancing however, I can¡¯t keep the giggles back.


    ¡°She looks like a deranged snow bunny,¡± I whisper, and both Miranda and Lizzie join in. The other girls-Becky, Ileana, Abigail, Valentina, Kiara, Mayleen, Anna, and Ebony-join in with a choreographed dance, taking up mics of their own.


    The whole thing is just ¡­ it¡¯s hrious. I¡¯m sorry, I try not to belittle others, but the girls tried to kill me, so I figure they¡¯re fair game for an honest critique.


    About halfway through the song, when I¡¯m pretty sure I just can¡¯t take it anymore ¡­ nine Pleb boys that I barely recognize appear from behind the curtain, moving up behind the girls while they¡¯re busy singing and focusing on the audience.


    Wigs get snatched, and there¡¯s chaos, the song ying in the background with the faintest hint of Mariah¡¯s vocals crooning through the speakers. Harper¡¯s pterodactyl screech echoes in her mic just before the boys retreat back like they¡¯re expecting something more.


    That¡¯s when viscous red pours down from above, coating the Harpies from head-to-toe as they scream.


    This time though, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s paint. Creed wasn¡¯t lying. No, my boys have gone full-out: this is blood.


    The whole room is silent as the song nears the end, and Tristan and Creed appear from the opposite side of the auditorium, sliding surreptitiously into two empty seats. Zack, Windsor, and Zayde out just after, sitting on the end of the front row about ten seats down from me.


    Harper is standing there panting and shaking, her girls on either side of her, most of them crying.


    The curtain tumbles down in front of them, and there are panties pinned all over it.


    Holy ¡­ freaking crap.


    The music fades out, and the auditorium bursts intoughter.


    It¡¯s a good thing I go out of town for the cheerpetition: blood is being shed at Burberry Prep. Now, when I took revenge, I let them hang themselves with their own rope. My boys ¡­ are definitely stretching the rules a bit with their creativity. They chisel cruelty into wless perfection much the same way as a sculptor chips at marble or stone.


    It¡¯s impressive, and a little scary, too.


    During the short trip to L. A., I volunteer to share a room with Coach Hannah (there¡¯s an odd number of us so someone has to do it), and I make very certain that I don¡¯t drink or eat anything that hasn¡¯t juste from a sealed container or wrapper. You¡¯d best believe I¡¯m hyper-aware of my hair, too. No way am I letting them surprise me with a buzzer.


    We manage to take home a silver medal which is impressive, considering the disharmonious atmosphere in the team.


    When I get back, I find the boys bruised from a fight. Not a single one of them managed to escape unscathed.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask, reaching up to gingerly brush my thumb against the shiner on Windsor¡¯s left eye. He grins and captures my wrist with such a quicksilver motion that my heart skips a beat. He kisses the inside of my wrist and makes me gasp when he flicks his tongue against my pulse.


    ¡°Pretty much what you¡¯d think, love. Got into a nasty row in the courtyard.¡±


    ¡°They fight dirty, too,¡± Creed drawls, touching the scratches down his cheek. That¡¯s the mark of ady fight right there.


    ¡°The girls were in on it, too?¡± I ask, and Zack nods.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t hit them, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about. We¡¯ve got some integrity, but that made the seventeen-on-eight odds a little worse for wear. If we hadn¡¯t had Lizzie there, it would¡¯ve been a lot worse. She took on Harper for you.¡±


    ¡°I tried to anyway,¡± she says, sporting a split lip. At least she¡¯s still got all her hair.


    ¡°Seventeen-on-eight ¡­¡± I start, thinking about the lineup. Okay, so all nine Harpies, eight Company boys, and a partridge in a pear tree, right? Versus my boys, Lizzie, Andrew, and Myron. Or at least that¡¯s my guess. Miranda doesn¡¯t have a mark on her. ¡°God.¡±


    ¡°It was so worth it,¡± Creed continues, pping at his twin when she tries to put a warm washcloth to his face. ¡°They ambushed us in the dark with


    buzzers and scissors. Idiots. We were all wearing fucking hats. We¡¯re not stupid.¡±


    ¡°Did you go looking for trouble?¡± I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°Trouble finds us,¡± Tristan purrs from his seat in the corner. He¡¯s sitting in


    a huge ck leather armchair that looks like the perfect reading chair. We¡¯re in his dorm in Tower Three. I¡¯ve actually never been here before. Did you know that it has a freaking firece? I¡¯m so jealous. ¡°We don¡¯t have to look for it.¡±


    ¡°Are any of them going on the San Francisco trip?¡± I ask, but Tristan just shakes his head. He doesn¡¯t know. Great.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Things are going to get worse before they get better, huh?¡± I ask, feeling this awful choppy churning sensation in my stomach. It¡¯s guilt, is what it is. All of this is because of me. True, the boys said they wanted to take this on, but ¡­ this isn¡¯t just their fight.


    I need to step it up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Zack whispers, putting his big hands on my shoulders and squeezing, kneading my tight flesh with strong fingers. Oh my god. I¡¯d love to get a naked, oily massage from him ¡­ Ahem. ¡°I can see it written all over your face: trust us to take care of this. Focus on kicking Tristan¡¯s ass in academics, okay?¡±


    Tristan narrows that de gray gaze of his, and I know that even though we¡¯re dating, that doesn¡¯t mean he won¡¯t try his hardest to take my spot at the top of the ss.


    ¡°Let us worry about the Infinity Club,¡± he says, and there¡¯s something in his voice that tells me he doesn¡¯t just mean the junior version. A shiver slides down my spine, but I nod, and I make damn sure from that point on that I keep the baseball bat I borrowed


    from the gym next to my bed when sleep.

 204

    Just likest year, the San Francisco trip oveps with winter break. That Friday before break, when all the first years are preparing for winter formal, we¡¯re piling suitcases in the courtyard and taking stock of the students gathering around the stag statue.


    They¡¯re all there, every single one of the Harpies. The Company.


    Whatever you want to call them. I like synonyms; I¡¯ll take both names.


    ¡°Of course they¡¯re all here,¡± Creed sneers, leaning back against a pir with an insouciant air of privilege. He waves his hand around dismissively. ¡°No third year wants to get stuck at winter formal, unless you¡¯re Lizzie Walton and your father hates you.¡±


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Tristan snaps, and I watch carefully as the two of them share a long, angry look. They both nce away without a clear winner, and Tristan crosses his arms over his chest, staring Harper down. Rightfully so. She stalks me in the halls, I swear. If I getx for one second, it¡¯s going to be my hair that¡¯s shaved, my ass kicked, or ¡­ worse. Because clearly, they¡¯re all capable of it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just steer clear of them and try to have a good time,¡± Zayd says, mumbling around a cigarette as he hides around the corner of Tower Two and tries to get his lighter to work in the wind while simultaneously trying to avoid getting caught by one of the teachers. ¡°Lord knows my winter break is going to suck serious ass. Dad¡¯s on tour in Europe, so I¡¯ll be treated like a


    fucking roadie, hauling equipment and fighting off wrinkly old groupies. Ugh. I just want a tree and a friggin¡¯ fruitcake.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re always wee to join me,¡± I say, and he smiles. It¡¯s not an entirely happy expression though.


    ¡°If I thought Billy,¡± Zayd says with a dramatic roll of his green eyes, ¡°would let me, I¡¯d take you up on that offer in a heartbeat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m interested in the offer,¡± Windsor says, studying me. He¡¯s wearing the stic crown again, and I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s meant to be ironic, or if it¡¯s a reminder that even in a cheap crown, he¡¯s still a prince. That Billie Eilish songes to mind: you should see me in a Frown.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t have any ns with family, then there¡¯s always room for you at our table.¡± At least, I think there is. Dad might not be thrilled if I brought Zack or one of the Idols home, but at least he doesn¡¯t have reason to hate Windsor York. Not yet anyway. Hopefully not ever.


    ¡°Alright everyone,¡± Ms. Felton says, blowing a whistle and making Tristan scowl. ¡°In the vans, please.¡±


    ¡°Like we¡¯re freaking dogs,¡± he murmurs, but he pushes off the wall anyway, capturing my hand and pulling me to one of the luxe ck Mercedes Benz vans parked around the circr driveway. They¡¯ve got just enough room for six students, three in each row. One of the rows is rear- facing, so that all six upants can look at each other.


    Miranda grumbles and kicks Creed in the shin, but she ends up getting relegated to the next van over with Lizzie, Myron, Andrew, and some random Pleb boys that I don¡¯t recognize. That¡¯s usually a good thing around here: if I don¡¯t recognize them, they haven¡¯t bullied me bad enough to be noticed.


    The drive to San Francisco is a bit of a trek, just north of Cruz Bay, and along the same coastal route. But I don¡¯t mind. As we pull away from the Burberry Prep campus, snowkes falling and melting in an instant, I actually find myself jittery with excitement.


    Not only is the San Francisco ballet and symphony famous, but I get to spend a whole four days with the guys before the long stretch of winter break. I never minded it before. Actually, I looked forward to it, but this year


    ¡­ my feelings are mixed. I¡¯m excited to see Charlie, and to sleep in my own bed, but I wish I could take the guys with me.


    Windsor turns around and fiddles with the stereo, despite Ms. Felton¡¯s dramatic sigh, and we end up with Tony Bet¡¯s (I Left My Heart) In San


    FranFisFo ying. This song, at least, I do recognize. I¡¯m better with oldies than I am with current hits.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    ¡°My mom spends most of her time in San Fran in this stuffy little house on Nob Hill,¡± Creed says, tucking one knee up on the seat and wrapping his arms around it. ¡°Working in Silicon Valley and trying topete with all the misogynic assholes in the tech industry. The funny thing is, she¡¯s so much better at what she does than any of them.¡±


    ¡°Did you know Nob Hill used to have mansions belonging to all of the Big Four railroad barons?¡± I ask, and Tristan smiles. His family¡¯s wealth was built on railroads, too, but the Vanderbilts aren¡¯t considered part of the Big Four. As far as I know, there are no Vanderbilt mansions in San Francisco. ¡°One of the magnates, Crocker, he got so mad at this poor undertaker named Nichs Yung for refusing to sell his property. The rest of Yung¡¯s neighbors sold out, so the Crockers owned the entire block but for their property. Out of spite, Crocker built a three-story tall fence to block out the sun for the Yungs.¡±


    I exhale and Zack smiles.


    ¡°So freaking hot when you talk history, Marnye.¡± I grin back at him, and then shrug my shoulders.


    ¡°Just let that be a lesson to you: that¡¯s how I see the super-rich. Disgusting, spiteful, and greedy. Crocker couldn¡¯t even appreciate that this poor man, this undertaker, had property rights, too. He had just as much right to live there as a railroad baron.¡± I push some strands of hair back from my face. While I¡¯m home, I¡¯ll pop into the salon and have it cut again. Long hair is nice, and it¡¯s so pretty, but once you¡¯ve gone short and see how much easier the maintenance side of things gets, it¡¯s hard to want to go back.


    ¡°Those old money types can be clueless like that, can¡¯t they?¡± Creed asks, and Tristan sneers at him.


    ¡°Like your mother isn¡¯t literally one of the reasons San Francisco property values are through the roof, and far too expensive for the average plebian to purchase a home.¡± Tristan lifts his chin triumphantly, like he¡¯s done good, and I roll my eyes, and face palm.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t call regr people plebeians in everyday conversation. At school, it¡¯s just a term. In rea


    l life, it¡¯s embarrassing.¡±

 205

    ¡°It¡¯s nice though,¡± Zayd says, this twisted, mangled mess of inked limbs on the seat next to me. ¡°Seeing how the other side lives, you know? It¡¯s not as bad as I thought.¡±


    ¡°The other side?¡± I ask with a smallugh, and he shrugs, looking politely chagrined.


    ¡°You know, likemoners. Peasants. Uh ¡­¡± I give him a look and he stops, grinning brightly. ¡°None of those?¡±


    ¡°How about you just practice saying people?¡± I suggest, and Zack smiles like he thinks he has a leg up on the others. Sure, he went to school at Lower Banks, so he¡¯s got some street cred, but he also thought it was eptable to pick a random girl and bring her to her knees for the sake of a bet. He almost killed me. That tells me he¡¯s no better than the others: at least back then, he didn¡¯t see the general popce as being worthy of the same respect as his peers.


    ¡°Why did you pick me?¡± I ask suddenly, and I notice Windsor exchanging a look with Zack. They¡¯re friends now, I¡¯ve noticed, more so than the other boys. All that time spent together during second year was good for them.


    Zack Brooks looks back at me, and he doesn¡¯t seem particrly happy about this thread of conversation.


    ¡°Can we go back to talking about railroad barons?¡± he whispers, but I just sit there and look at him. I want to know the truth, and I sense there¡¯s something more to it than a random act of malice. When I don¡¯t respond, Zack sighs and rakes his fingers through his shiny brte hair. It¡¯s much longer this year than it wasst year, although still rtively short. ¡°Marnye


    ¡­¡± He nces over his shoulder in Ms. Felton¡¯s direction, but I¡¯m not about to get into details. She probably doesn¡¯t even know what we¡¯re talking about. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Language, Mr. Brooks,¡± she says without bothering to turn around.


    Zack rolls his eyes at her, but then focuses his attention on me. Creed and Tristan watch him, this calcting sharpness to their gazes. Zayd looks ufortable, and Windsor looks like he already knows.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t you, in particr,¡± Zack says, looking at me with regret stered on his face. ¡°It was Adam Carmichael. Your mother¡¯s married to him, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    The color drains from my face, and I sit forward on the seat.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You picked me because of Adam Carmichael?¡± I ask, feeling nausea roll over me. Adam is the same guy that let my mother leave her young child at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. He¡¯s scum, pure scum. And also the father to a sister I¡¯ve never met.


    ¡°Not me,¡± Zack says with a long sigh. ¡°Lizzie.¡±


    ¡°But why? Are the Waltons and the Carmichaels in some kind of feud?¡± ¡°Adam had an affair with Lizzie¡¯s sister,¡± Tristan exins, his voice as


    cold and matter-of-fact as always. It¡¯s just a mask, I know that now, but it¡¯s a damn good one. ¡°She was only eighteen at the time, and he was ¡­ in his forties, at the very least.¡± My stomach clenches with nausea. ¡°Lizzie¡¯s hated him ever since.¡±


    ¡°So she picked me because of him?¡± I ask, and Tristan nods.


    ¡°I have nothing to do with Adam; I¡¯ve never even met him.¡± My mind is reeling right now, and I lean back into the leather seat next to Creed, wondering how the hell I¡¯m supposed to process this.


    ¡°We had to pick someone,¡± Zack whispers, ¡°and your sister, Isabe, she was too young. I¡¯m sorry, Marnye. I¡¯m so fucking sorry.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a mark, Mr. Brooks,¡± Ms. Felton says as I close my eyes and lean my head against Creed¡¯s shoulder until I fall asleep.


    If the boys talk throughout the rest of the drive, I don¡¯t hear it.


    The entire second year ss is staying at the Fairmont Hotel which is about a ten minute drive from the symphony, depending on traffic. It¡¯s definitely a luxury hotel, that much is obvious from the moment I walk in the door. Charlie and I could never afford to stay in a ce like this. Actually, we can¡¯t afford to stay in the city at all. When wee to see the symphony, we drive home after.


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± I whisper as Creed unlocks the door to a room on the top floor. Miranda¡¯s right behind me, but the other boys have disappeared to various other rooms to drop off their stuff. I¡¯m staying with the Cabots, courtesy of Kathleen. The academy does provide standard hotel rooms free of charge, but it¡¯s two students to a room, and the pairings are random. Upgrades cost big money, but as Creed put it earlier: it¡¯s literally nothing, so I take their generosity over the random chance I might get paired with Anna or Abigail or Mayleen.


    Imagine the things they¡¯d do while I slept.


    ¡°The presidential suite,¡± Creed says, yawning. I don¡¯t think he means to be disrespectful (although he probably doesn¡¯t care much about the lush splendor surrounding us). He just ¡­ well, he¡¯s always yawning and lounging and draping himself over furniture. ¡°Your bed is through that door¡±-he points at it, and then scowls-¡°and, unfortunately, I have to share the other one with my sister.¡±


    ¡°A massive suite like this, and it only has two beds?¡± I ask, moving over to the windows and covering my mouth with both hands. We¡¯ve got a two hundred and seventy degree view of the city. I can see the Golden Gate Bridge as well as Alcatraz. It¡¯s beyond amazing. I¡¯m so excited by it that when Creed saunters up beside me, one hand tucked into his pocket, I throw my arms around his neck and give him a huge squeeze.


    Miranda watches us from the seating area, smiling tightly. When I finish hugging her brother, I hug her, too. Sheughs and pats my back, pushing me back a step. I notice that her cheeks are flushed pink though, and her pulse is pounding. Maybe she¡¯s still crushing on me? My own cheeks heat with embarrassment.


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous, right?¡± Miranda says, dragging her suitcase toward the bedroom on the opposite side of the suite. ¡°You can fit twenty people in this room, but you can only really sleep four at most.¡±


    She shrugs her shoulders and returns to the bedroom, closing the door behind her as I return my focus to the wall of windows. The only ns for tonight include ate dinner in the restaurant downstairs, but otherwise we¡¯re attending the symphony tomorrow, and the ballet on Sunday. On Monday, we have a whole day to explore the museums.


    ¡°She really likes you, you know,¡± Creed says, sighing and running his fingers through his hair. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare break her heart,¡± he warns me, moving over to stand beside me and cupping my chin with his long fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t you break mine either.¡±


    Creed leans in to kiss me, and I lift up on my toes to meet him halfway, curling my fingers around his lean but still muscr shoulders.


    Our kiss sears every part of me, my lips, my heart, my soul. It amps up like it did in the library and I pull away before Miranda cane out and see us. Creed makes a little groaning sound as I pull away, his fingers sliding along the curve of my waist until they finally drop by his side.


    His eyes linger on me until I disappear behind my bedroom door, and I have to take a minute to sit down the edge of my bed and breathe before I


    have enough mental energy to get up and change for dinner.


    Every time they touch me, I feel something shift inside, this wild heat awakening in my body that I don¡¯t know what to do with. It¡¯s almost painful, how much I want them.


    That feeling, it isn¡¯t going tost lon


    g without pulling me apartpletely.

 206

    Winter break feels so long without my friends around. They¡¯re bing a second family to me, and I¡¯m already longing for another group holiday like we had for my birthday at the bowling alley. I text the guys every day, Miranda, Lizzie, and Andrew included, and I try to find some way to tell my dad I¡¯ve finally got a boyfriend.


    Or ¡­ five boyfriends, actually.


    He seems so much sicker than before though, and I¡¯m afraid to stress him out, so I take the coward¡¯s route and say nothing. At least for now. I know I can¡¯t keep my rtionships hidden forever, but at least for those two weeks, I just enjoy hispany. Those little moments-ying videogames with him in the living room, listening to him read The Night Before Christmas aloud, and making Christmas cookies together-those are the things I¡¯ll remember for the rest of my life.


    Missing your body already, Creed sends on Christmas Eve, and I bite my lip, turning my phone screen off before Dad and I have one of those awkward over-the-shoulder text reading moments.


    ¡°What time is your friending?¡± he asks, and then we both pause as a knock sounds on the door. I open it to find Windsor, bundled up in a shiny coat with fur trim, wearing a grin and dragging a suitcase in one hand, a duffel bag slung over the opposite shoulder.


    ¡°Come in, Your Majesty,¡± I purr (or at least try to, I sort of suck at it), opening the door and gesturing him into the house. I only had one day in


    person with the guys before break started, so I¡¯m still not exactly sure how they all feel about the sex thing. It hasn¡¯te up much in texts.


    ¡°Why, thank you, mdy,¡± Windsor says with a grin, stepping into the house and letting Dad take his rolling suitcase for him. He insists on moving the duffel bag himself. Maybe he can see how weak Charlie¡¯s bing? My heart clenches, and I swallow past a lump in my throat.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°That better be faux fur trim,¡± I tell him, pointing at his jacket, and he grins.


    ¡°Thedy in Paris said it was roon fur. She assured me she did not go and shoot zat poor thing in the head or anything like zat.¡± He winks at me and sets his bag on the floor near the couch. I¡¯d offer him up a guest room ¡­ if we had one. Nope. Sorry. But we have this lovely couch a few extra nkets. With the glittering white lights of the Christmas tree, and the fire crackling in the firece, it¡¯s actually pretty damn cozy. ¡°Pretty sure this is roadkill.¡±


    I roll my eyes, but as is often the case with Windsor York, I have no idea if he¡¯s joking or not.


    ¡°Apple cider?¡± Dad asks, and Windsor tips his head, reaching up to remove his beanie so he can ruffle up his red hair.


    ¡°I¡¯d love that, Mr. Reed, thank you.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that host club thing going for you?¡± Dad asks as he moves into the kitchen, and I give Windsor a look. If the glimmer in his hazel eyes is any indication, he finds the whole thing hrious.


    ¡°Fantastic, Sir.¡±


    ¡°Good, good.¡± We hear Dad shuffling around in the kitchen for a little while before the soft sound of Christmas music spills from the speakers, giving us a moment of privacy in the small house.


    ¡°Ie bearing gifts,¡± Windsor says, slipping out of his jacket, and gesturing at the giant duffel bag. ¡°Nothing so extravagant as the car this time, since I don¡¯t want to make you ufortable, but I hope you like what I¡¯ve picked out.¡±


    ¡°If there arecey panties in one of those boxes, and I open them in front of my dad, I swear on Frosty¡¯s snowballs, I will kill you.¡±


    Windsor chuckles and steps toward me, curling his fingers around my upper arms and looking down into my eyes.


    ¡°Why on earth would I give youcey panties in front of your father?¡± he asks, leaning down and pressing the softest, lightest kiss against my lips.


    That, too, feels like a tease, and I end up pushing him away from me, so I can catch my breath. If it bothers him that I slept with Creed, he still doesn¡¯t let on.


    ¡°Because you said you were going to-as we were touring the art museum, no less. The security guard heard you and started guffawing. It was embarrassing as hell.¡±


    ¡°Well, my dear,¡± Wind says, sitting down on the couch and crossing his legs at the knee. His boots are shiny with dew from the wet grass. No snow here in Cruz Bay, not this close to the ocean. ¡°That was a joke. Thecey knickers are a gift for private moments.¡± He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of red and ckce panties with tiny jingle bells on them, and tosses them my way. I catch them and look at the word scrawled across the ass.


    ¡°Naughty?¡± I ask in a dry voice, one brow raised. Windsor pulls another pair of underwear from a different pocket-how many freaking pairs does he have?!-and throws those at me, too. These have angel wings on them and the word ¡­ ¡°Nice? Seriously?¡¯


    ¡°Thought I¡¯d let you choose,¡± he whispers as Dad walks back in the room, and I quickly tuck the two pairs of underwear into my back pockets.


    We sit around with cider and put on a series of crappy Christmas movies, me and Wind on the couch, and Dad in his favorite chair. By the time we¡¯re ready for bed, most of the Christmas cookies are gone, and the pumpkin pie I bought from the local bakery for tomorrow has already been consumed.


    ¡°If you¡¯re in the bedroom at the same time, door open,¡± Dad says, standing up and stretching as he yawns. ¡°And remember: this is a small house, and moans carry through the walls.¡±


    ¡°Dad,¡± I grind out, but Windsor justughs.


    ¡°Yes, sir, we¡¯ll remember that,¡± he says as Charlie gives him a long, lingering look and then disappears into his room. The door isn¡¯t closed five minutes before we hear him snoring. Honestly, it¡¯d probably take a freight train to wake him up.


    ¡°Well ¡­ you¡¯ve got nkets and pillows,¡± I say as Windsorys back on the couch, his arms folded behind his head. ¡°Do you need anything else?¡±


    ¡°How about a good-night kiss?¡± he asks, and I pause, looking down at him all stretched out. The urge is there to climb in hisp and cuddle, but ¡­ even if Dad is fast asleep, maybe that¡¯s not the best idea here.

 207

    ¡°Just one,¡± I say, but when I bend down to give Windsor a kiss, he pulls me into his arms until I¡¯m lying on top of him.


    ¡°Maybe two or three. I¡¯m jealous of Creed you know, and can be quite the right proper asshole when I¡¯m jealous.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t seem jealous,¡± I whisper, and something in Windsor¡¯s face hardens. He slides his fingers into my freshly cut and dyed hair and pulls my head toward his.


    ¡°I was.¡±


    Our kiss is slow and sensual, and tastes like apple cider. It¡¯s one of those kisses that isn¡¯t easy to forget, one that burns a brand into the memory thatsts a lifetime.


    Before I know it, he¡¯s got his hands under my shirt, massaging my bare back, and I¡¯ve got his buttons undone, my palms sliding across the smooth, hard nes of his chest. We kiss well-past the midnight chime of the clock that sits on the mantle, and into the early blush of a winter dawn.


    My body is on fire, throbbing, and desperate for another taste of what I had at the hotel.


    It¡¯s actually Wind who pushes me back, his own breathing harsh and panting.


    ¡°You should get back in your room before I do something worthy of those naughty panties in your pocket,¡± he says, and I flush from head to toe, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. I can feel his hardness trapped between us, straining against the confines of his sweats.


    ¡°Like what?¡± I whisper, and the look he gives me ¡­ it¡¯s oh so fucking naughty.


    ¡°Bend you over this couch,¡± he whispers back, kissing me one,st time on the lips. ¡°And show you what a non-virgin is like in the bedroom.¡±


    ¡°You knew Creed was a virgin?¡± I choke out. ¡°How?¡± Wind just shrugs his shoulders and gently pushes me off.


    ¡°I have my ways,¡± he says, watching as I stand up and then slowly, reluctantly, back away toward my bedroom.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    He¡¯s all I dream about for the rest of winter break.


    Coming back to school in January is a bit of a shock to the system. I always forget how hectic things are, how quickly the real worldes crashing back in. I have cheerleading, and orchestra, schrship applications, and course work that¡¯s so heavy I wonder why I signed up for all these sses in the first ce. Couldn¡¯t I have just been normal and taken pottery or painting or something, anything to lighten the load?


    Also, I feel like I¡¯m walking around with this exciting little secret in my back pocket.


    I¡¯m not a virgin anymore. It¡¯s weird to think that. Even weirder when Creed and I are in the same room. He taps his fingers on the surface of the library table while I attempt to tutor him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not thinking about math-at all,¡± he tells me, and I level a re on his arrogantly beautiful face.


    ¡°Start thinking about it if you truly want to get into Bornstead,¡± I quip, pushing the tablet his way. ¡°Now check over that problem. You made a simple mistake, and I know you can fix it if you try.¡± He makes sure his fingers linger on the back of my hand, making me shiver, before he finally does what I¡¯m asking and studies the screen.


    Miranda rolls her eyes at us from across the table, and goes back to her own schoolwork.


    After we¡¯re finished, the twins walk me back to my room, see me safely inside, and wait until I¡¯ve locked the doors behind me before they go.


    This is our ritual: at least two of our crew-I should really start calling us the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep since that¡¯s what most of the Plebs are starting to say now-follows me home, waits until I check and lock the room, and then heads back to the Towers.


    It¡¯s not until the end of January that I have any problems with that.


    Tristan and Zayd drop me off, as usual, and say goodbye, making me wish I wasn¡¯t all alone over here in the remodeled janitor¡¯s quarters. I used to like it, having my own space like this. Now it just feels lonely and separate.


    Sometimes when I head over to the Towers, I find the othersughing and joking in the halls, darting in and out of each other¡¯s rooms.


    I want that, too.


    Then again, I¡¯m here on a schrship, so I don¡¯tin. Instead, I wash my worries away in the shower, dress in some pjs, and sit down on my bed to start studying for tomorrow¡¯s statistics test. Everything seems fine until I hear the doorknob jiggle with the sound of a lock.


    There¡¯s always been the worry that the Harpies would steal or replicate one of the master staff keys and get in, so we installed a bar lock, a chain, and I still have those cameras fromst year. If someone does break in, tough on them. I¡¯ll have video proof.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± I ask, heading over to the door to look through the peephole. There¡¯s nothing but ck. Someone must be holding their hand over it, or else it¡¯s been covered with tape or something. Taking a few steps back, I head for the emergencyndline phone to call one of the staff members.


    I don¡¯t like the way this is going, and even with the extra locks, I don¡¯t feel safe.


    Too bad it¡¯s only Thursday, or else I¡¯d have my cell with me.


    I pick up the handset and nce at the list of numbers that areminated and stuck to the wall. Just before I start dialing up Mrs. Amberton, I notice that there¡¯s no ringtone. Frowning, I hit the button on the wall unit several times, trying to get it to start up.


    There¡¯s nothing.


    And that is when I notice that the cord to the handset is no longer attached to the wall.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± I curse as I turn around and see that the door¡¯s already been unlocked and pushed in as far as possible. Someone is using a thick envelope to pop the bar lock, while, presumably, another person uses a string that goes from the chain lock over the top of the door. It slides right off and the door falls open, even as I¡¯m charging forward and mming my body into it.


    Several other people push from the outside, and I end up losing my footing, stumbling back as all nine girls slip into my room, and Mayleen shuts the door behind them, redoing all the locks.


    ¡°Hello Marnye,¡± Becky says, sneering at me. They¡¯re all still dressed in their uniforms, all of them pretty, done up with makeup a


    nd fancy wigs to cover their bald heads.

 208

    ¡°Hello Becky,¡± I reply, my heart racing. At least the boys aren¡¯t here, right? This is ¡­ well, I might die, but at least I won¡¯t get raped first.


    Crap, my life has gotten dark fast.


    I watch them all carefully as they surround me, and then I reach down and snatch the baseball bat that¡¯s leaning next to my bed, bringing it up in a sharp swing that takes Becky tter right in the side of her hip.


    No violence is a good rule.


    But it doesn¡¯t apply in self-defense. I¡¯ll hit every one of these girls with the baseball bat if it means keeping my life.


    Becky screams and stumbles, and I use the moment of confusion to race past her, grabbing at the locks on the door. Unfortunately, the mechanisms that were supposed to keep me safe backfire. There are too many locks and not enough time.


    Somebody grabs me by the short hair on the top of my head and drags me back while another girl goes for the baseball bat. Toote. I¡¯m wildly swinging it in my own defense, and I hear a feminine grunt as the weapon takes Anna Kirkpatrick right in the stomach.


    ¡°You fucking bitch,¡± Kiara screams, grabbing the bat and yanking so hard that it flies out of my hand and smashes into the clean China teapot that Windsor left on the kitchen counter. It shatters to pieces as I¡¯m thrown onto the bed by the force of so many hands.


    One or two girls, I could fend off. But nine? I¡¯m so screwed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hurry up before one of her boy toys shows up,¡± Ileana Taittinger says, opening my wardrobe and pulling out the iron. Every student has one in their dorm. Ms. Felton loves to give marks out for wrinkled uniforms. I¡¯ve seen Creed and Zayd get plenty. Tristan, he¡¯d rather die that have a single crease that wasn¡¯t ironed.


    ¡°Do you have the buzzer?¡± Ebony Peterson asks, and Abigail Fanning tosses something her way. Ebony catches it, and then flicks on a switch as Harper plugs in the iron, and the other girls, like Valentina Pitt and Kiara Xiao hold me in ce.


    I¡¯m struggling so hard that I manage to get a kick out that nails Ebony in the nail. She drops the buzzer to the floor and the stic bit shatters to pieces. The motor sputters out, and there¡¯s a moment of stunned silence.


    ¡°Are you freaking kidding me?¡± Harper snaps, pointing her finger at the bathroom. ¡°Go find some scissors, or a razor, or fuck, even a knife. If we


    take some of her scalp off with her hair, it doesn¡¯t matter to me.¡±


    She tests the iron to see if it¡¯s hot, and then scowls. It must not be. Not yet.


    I fight even harder, iling and kicking. If anyone gets near my mouth, I¡¯ll bite. Hard.


    Unfortunately, nobody does.


    ¡°Got a razor and some shaving cream,¡± Becky says, trotting back in with Ileana on her heels. They both climb on my bed and starts squeezing strawberry cream gel into my hair.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this,¡± I say, not particrly concerned about my hair. It¡¯s the increasingly hot heat of the iron that worries me. ¡°I¡¯ve got hidden cameras in here. Whatever you do to me now, it¡¯s on video. It live streams to my phone.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s too bad then,¡± Harper says, tapping the iron and then hissing. A grin takes over what should rightfully be a very pretty mouth. Every time she scowls, that illusion is ripped away and the viin beneath the princess rears her ugly head. ¡°You don¡¯t have your phone tonight, do you? And by the time you get it back tomorrow, you¡¯ll know better than to mess with us.¡±


    Becky takes the razor and starts shaving the hair on the sides of my head. It¡¯s already pretty short, but even then, a disposable razor isn¡¯t mean for such thick hair, and it quickly gets clogged up. Ileana snatches the razor, wipes it on my bedspread, and tries again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll grab some scissors,¡± Valentina suggests, heading over to the kitchte and digging through my drawers.


    Meanwhile, Harper has something in her hand. It¡¯s a piece of metal with a short wooden handle. Actually, the longer I look at it ¡­ the more I realize that it looks like a brand, one of those ones ranchers heat up to mark their cows.


    She notices me looking and turns the brand to face me.


    ¡°Do you like it?¡± she asks, blinking innocently. ¡°I had it custom made. It says Working Girl. I thought maybe we could stamp it on that huge forehead of yours, so the whole world would know who you really are.¡± She grabs the iron off the fold-out ironing board that¡¯s stored in an inset wall cab, and then presses it on my bare arm.


    The pain is so intense that I trash even harder, and manage to dislodge a few of the girls. I barely notice though. No, instead I¡¯m wrapped up in this white-hot agony of blistering flesh. I start weeping without even meaning to, the pain¡¯s so great.


    Harper releases the iron from the crook of my elbow and presses the brand against it, heating it up.


    I¡¯m still fighting against the other girls, making it a hell of a lot harder for them to shave my head.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Hurry up, Harper. The brothel bitch is way stronger than she looks.¡± Ileana¡¯s whine makes my head throb with an iing migraine. Or, well, maybe that¡¯s the second degree burn on my arm. It¡¯s hard to say.


    The leader of the Harpies, Miss du Pont herself, climbs up on the bed and straddles my waist.


    Her smile is horrific, like watching an alligator open its jaws before it swallows its prey whole.


    There¡¯s a faint sound from the direction of the door, but I¡¯m too focused on the branding at my face to pay it much attention. The sound of a lock slipping draws Harper¡¯s attention jus


    t before the door is kicked in.

 209

    Zack is there in an instant, grabbing Harper¡¯s arm and throwing her off the bed so hard that she hits the floor with an unfortunate cracking sound, the hot brand tumbling along with her and smacking into her bottom lip. She screams in pain as the other boys rush the room.


    ¡°Get the fuck off of her,¡± Zack says, grabbing Becky¡¯s wrist and shoving her violently back. Ileana and the others scramble out of the way as Tristan steps in the room and puts his foot t on Harper¡¯s hand, crushing it to the floor.


    I¡¯m still shaking as Zack sweeps me into his arms, tucking me up close against his chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare try to get up,¡± Tristan warns, pushing down harder on Harper¡¯s hand. The other girls exchange looks, like they can¡¯t decide if they¡¯re going to start a fight with the boys. ¡°Throw a single punch and I¡¯ll break your queen¡¯s hand.¡±


    ¡°Get the hell off of me!¡± Harper shrieks, but Tristan isn¡¯t going anywhere, that predatory grace of his taking over his limbs, his silver eyes locked on their target.


    Creed, Zayd, and Windsor are right behind him, fanning out across the back of the room.


    A few secondster, Myron shows up with Lizzie by his side.


    ¡°Are you okay, Marnye?¡± Zayd asks, panting, his green eyes wide as he takes me in with the shaving cream all over my head and the burn on my


    arm. I nod. I mean, I could really use some painkillers and aloe vera, but I think I¡¯ll be alright. Oh, and ice. I would kill for a pack of ice right now.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, my voice shaky and dark with pain. Zayd notices and scowls, giving Becky a look that¡¯s pure, unadulterated hatred.


    ¡°You fucking idiots,¡± Tristan says, leaning his weight forward until Harper screams. ¡°We have video footage of this entire thing. You think I won¡¯t use it?¡±


    ¡°Do you think my parents don¡¯t have any sway over the academy staff?¡± she shouts back at him. ¡°I¡¯ll get in-school suspension, and a p on the wrist. This is nothing.¡± Tristan grinds his heel down and she squeaks with real pain.


    ¡°You should go find your boyfriends-and don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re not fucking John and Greg. I have video footage of that, too.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re screwing Greg?¡± Abigail whispers, but nobody acknowledges her.


    ¡°What did you do to them?¡± Valentina asks, wringing her hands. ¡°Where are they?¡±


    ¡°On their way home,¡± Creed drawls, lounging against the doorjamb with his hands tucked into his pockets. He¡¯s ying the bored Blueblood act, but I can see worry pinching his brow as he nces over at me.


    ¡°They were caught sharing unauthorized nude photos of other students all over the school,¡± Windsor says, cool as a cucumber. He actually looks like he might be having fun. Then again, there¡¯s that darkness behind his eyes he isn¡¯t so good at hiding from me anymore.


    ¡°You nted nudes on their phones?¡± Ileana scoffs, and Windsor turns to look at her with his brows raised.


    ¡°No. They already had the nudes. I guess this time, they just sent them out to the whole school on ident. And while Harper might have good enough connections to escape the zero tolerance policy on bullying, Greg and John do not.¡±


    Abigail shoves between Zayd and Creed, taking off down the hall with her heels cking on the stone.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Bye-bye, Greg,¡± Tristan says, giving a derisive little one handed wave. ¡°Bye-bye, John. Oh, unfortunately, John¡¯s father isn¡¯t going to get reelected, so ¡­ you can kiss your father¡¯s handpicked future US senator goodbye, too. It¡¯s just a day of bittersweet farewells, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°He was screwing his secretary¡¯s seventeen year old son,¡± Zack whispers in my ear, kissing me softly. ¡°Hang them with their own rope, right?¡± I cling to him, sucking in a sharp breath.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget about Greg¡¯s family,¡± Windsor says, speaking up.


    ¡°Nah, how could we?¡± Zayd says, getting out a cigarette and lighting up. He saunters into my room and cracks open the bathroom window, nting his boot on the closed toilet lid, so he can smoke. ¡°Not when he media¡¯s having a field day with all those leaked documents. How many illegal foreclosures did they push through in thest decade?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t mess with Infinity Club members like that!¡± Harper snarls as Tristan finally releases her hand, and she scrambles to her feet. He collects the Working Girl brand before she can get hold of it and chucks it into my trash can. ¡°It¡¯s against the rules. That¡¯s what the bets are for. You don¡¯t involve business, politics, or media.¡±


    ¡°We bet you that we could keep Marnye here at Burberry until she graduated. However we have to go about doing that is fair game.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Harper sneers, touching the blister on her bottom lip. It starts to bleed, but I have no sympathy left for her.


    She grabs Becky and Ileana by the arms and heads for the door.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I call out, and she actually pauses, turning a poisonous re on me. I lick my dry lower lip. ¡°Last year, when I was collecting information on all of you ¡­ I found out that John has cmydia. I¡¯m really sorry. At least it¡¯s curable, right?¡±


    Harper¡¯s eyes go wide and she jerks her friends into the hallway. The rest of the girls follow after, and Myron and Lizzie push the door closed.


    ¡°Does he really cmydia?¡± Zack asks, and I nod.


    ¡°He left his notebook lying on the ground during football drills once, and I peeked inside.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you stopped screwing the Blueblood girls during first year,¡± Creed drawls, giving both Tristan and Zayd looks. ¡°Looks like shit went down after that.¡±


    ¡°Well, I just got my STD results in,¡± Tristan purrs, and Zayd grins.


    ¡°Same, bro. We¡¯re clean.¡± Zayd flicks his cigarette into the sink, andes to stand in the room with is hands in his pockets, locking those beautiful emerald eyes with my brown ones. ¡°We didn¡¯t dare touch Marnye until we knew for sure.¡±


    ¡°Game¡¯s on,¡± Tristan breathes, and then he takes a step toward me, but I don¡¯t remember what happens after that because


    I¡¯m in so much pain, I just pass out.

 210

    The burn on my arm is about the size of an apple, and it¡¯s definitely second- degree, ording to the Burberry Prep school nurse. She gives me a scolding about being careful with the iron, calls my dad, and makes me sit there while he fusses over me.


    After word about what happened gets around, the attitude in the Plebs shifts. When I walk down the hall, people scramble to get out of my way. If I step onto an elevator, everyone else vacates. And for the time being, nobody sits at the high table but us.


    ¡°Harper¡¯s not done yet,¡± Windsor says, lying back on the grass and looking up at the blue sky. It¡¯s February now, and still technically winter, but today has been beyond beautiful, sunny and bright with hardly a breeze to be felt.


    Thank god because I really needed it.


    ¡°Not even close,¡± Tristan says, looking at the checkered nket and pic basket like he¡¯s never been on a pic in his life. Hell, maybe he hasn¡¯t? I cradle my arm against my chest, buried deep in thought. ¡°Because the Plebs are so used to having three female Idols, I¡¯ve put Lizzie and Miranda down as your peers,¡± he continues, and I lift my head to look at him, raising an eyebrow.


    Zayd¡¯s head is in myp, and I find my fingers unconsciously digging into thevender-ash color of his hair.


    ¡°To me, you¡¯re the only Idol,¡± Zayd mumbles, and I grin. Miranda and Jessie have started seeing each other again, but Jessie feels ufortable acting like a couple in front of me. Seems everyone knows about my bestie¡¯s crush. Maybe I was thest person to find out? And of course, I had to be hit over the head with it.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Zack says, digging into a bag of pretzels, his eyes on me. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you three are going to be the Idols for the boy¡¯s team?¡±


    Creed rolls his shoulders in azy shrug. ¡°Naturally.¡±


    I don¡¯t look at him. If I do, carnal memories wille pouring out, and sitting on the backwn with dozens of students situated around the garden is not the ce to start getting hot and heavy. Although, someone might want to tell Jasmine May and Chris Sanchez that.


    ¡°For the Inner Circle, we have you and Windsor,¡± Tristan continues, and Zack smirks.


    ¡°Naturally,¡± he mimics, and Tristan gives him a narrowed silver re in response.


    ¡°To fill in the rest of the ranks, I¡¯ll start recruiting from the first years mostly. They weren¡¯t around for Marnye¡¯s bullying, and we¡¯re less likely to end up with a fox in the chicken coop.¡±


    ¡°Like you even know what a chicken coop is,¡± I tease, and he turns his gray re on me. There¡¯s a yful edge to it though that makes me smile.


    ¡°You were Harper¡¯s fiancee,¡± Windsor continues, closing his eyes. ¡°Tell me: now that she¡¯s been backed into a corner, and we¡¯ve taken control of the school, what happens next?¡±


    Tristan says nothing, but there¡¯s a faraway look in his eyes that I don¡¯t like. I¡¯ve never seen it before. He stares across the gardens with a sigh, and then shake his head, raven-ck hair fluttering gently around his face.


    ¡°She¡¯s already made plenty of moves-we just don¡¯t know about them yet.¡±


    ¡°Well, she can¡¯t out my dad for sleeping with hookers or doing drugs: the whole world knows about that. And my grandma¡¯s business is clean.¡± Zayd sits up slightly, leaning back so that his head is sort of pillowed on my breasts. I push him back down into myp.


    ¡°I imagine we¡¯ll find out at the next official Club meeting?¡± Zack hazards, and Tristan nods sharply.


    ¡°How often do those happen?¡± I ask, and Creed sighs.


    ¡°At least six times a year, sometimes more depending on the whims of the board.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a board of directors for the Infinity Club?¡± I ask incredulously, and Creed nods.


    ¡°Both of Harper¡¯s parents are on it. She¡¯s a tough nut to crack.¡±


    ¡°Are you guys really going to get in trouble for all of this?¡± I lick my lips and wait for an answer, but none of the boys looks at me or gives it.


    That scares me.


    That scares me a whole hell of a lot.


    Valentine¡¯s Day brings equal parts revenge and romance.


    The Bluebloods-and this time, I mean us and our new crew-spread a decree around the school that none of the Harpies or their Company boys are to receive roses. Anyone caught sending them is worse than a Plebian.Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°This kind of politicking just doesn¡¯t ur to me,¡± I say, pushing my te away and picking up my ice tea. Zack, Zayd, and I are sitting in The Mess, eating dinner and getting ready for tomorrow. There¡¯s the usual garden party in the evening, and now that we¡¯re sitting on the Burberry Prep thrones, we have no choice but to go. Or at least we have to make an appearance.


    ¡°No?¡± Zayd asks, grinning and dipping his fingers into his ice water. He flicks some at me, and I flick some iced tea back at him. ¡°Because,e on, pushing our cars into the pool? That was brilliant.¡± I grin and shrug at the same time.


    ¡°Sure, but that¡¯s obvious. Of Fourse you¡¯re going to be upset if your car gets dumped in a swimming pool. But not receiving some roses on Valentine¡¯s Day? So what?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I like you,¡± Zayd says, tugging on one of his lip rings. ¡°Because you don¡¯t think like they do. You have no idea how much someone like Becky craves attention and approval from others. Not getting roses on Valentine¡¯s is, like, the equivalent of being shaved bald for her. Trust me: this is sweet, sweet revenge in its finest form.¡±


    The door to The Mess opens, and the other boyse in, talking up seats around the table. Creed slides his foot up my leg, and I flush, pretending not to notice. Last night, he snuck over to my room in the middle of the night, and we ¡­ well, he had a quick repeat of what happened at the hotel.


    He came in and didn¡¯t say a word, pushed my shirt up and over my breasts, sucked gently on the flesh, and slid in me with a groan that¡¯s still ringing in my ears. Just thinking about it makes my nipples pebble to fine points. It¡¯s all so new, all this physical affection. I get jitters just thinking about it.


    ¡°What are the ns for tomorrow?¡± Windsor asks, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the front of his uniform. I¡¯m in love with the red jackets, the id ties, and the white shirts. I¡¯m going to miss them. Then again, fourth year uniforms are solid ck: ck ties, ck shirt, ck jacket, ck skirt/cks.


    ¡°Hit the garden party, grab a table, and romance the shit out of our new girlfriend?¡± Zayd says with a grin, and Zack ms a palm onto the table, shaking the dishes. Everyone turns to look at him, his brown eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze focused on me. I shiver under the intensity.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± Creed echoes, and Windsor raises his eyebrows. Tristan looks bored, and Zayd looks irritated.


    ¡°What do you mean no?¡± the rocker boy asks, rubbing


    his inked hand up his equally inked arm.

 211

    ¡°I mean I¡¯ve been cid, and I¡¯ve been nice, and I¡¯m done with it. I thought that¡¯s what Marnye wanted.¡± Zack stops and then sits back in his chair, lifting his chin in a way that promise he¡¯s just as much a member of the Burberry Prep royal court as any of the other guys. ¡°But it¡¯s not. She wants me to fight for her, so that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to fucking do. I¡¯m taking her on a date, just me.¡±


    ¡°Says friggin¡¯ who?¡± Zayd growls, rising to his feet. I reach out and grab his arm, and he sits down, letting out a string of curses.


    ¡°Where are you wanting to take me?¡± I ask, heart pounding, knowing this is going to be good. Zack is thoughtful. He bought me a freaking pedal harp for Christmas.


    ¡°I got some off-campus passes for the afternoon. Thought we could go to the bookstore, and I could get you some more of those boys¡¯ love mangas you like. And then ¡­ maybe a pic by theke.¡±


    ¡°Are you for real?¡± Zayd asks, leaning back in his chair so far I¡¯m worried he might topple over. ¡°What makes you think you get Marnye all to yourself on Valentine¡¯s Day?¡±


    ¡°Because I asked for it first,¡± Zack says, voice cool and dark. He turns to look at me. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    I look at the others, but they don¡¯t give anything away.


    ¡°We can hold court at the garden party,¡± Windsor says, surprising me. ¡°You go. There¡¯ll be time for other datester.¡± Zayd curses, but then he just chucks his napkin onto his te and throws a tattooed hand up in the air.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, Mr. Rich and Royal is going to be all chivalrous and shit. Fine. Go, have fun, but remember that when I take you out,¡± Zayd smirks as he levels a re on Zack, ¡°it¡¯s going to be a hell of a lot better than a fucking pic.¡±


    Valentine¡¯s Day is just a normal day of school, capped off with the dramatic ritual of the roses. This time, I end up with a huge bundle. Pretty sure all of them are from my friends-boyfriends and non-boyfriends alike-but Zayd was right: it really does feel good to be wanted and appreciated.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    After I set my colorful spray of roses up in a water pitcher (I don¡¯t exactly have a lot of vases lying around), I change into a short, pink dress and some white ballet ts, pausing as I head out the door and find a small stack of gifts waiting for me.


    Not a one of the boys is about to be outdone, so there¡¯s a little something from everyone but Zack.


    ¡°The things I want to give you,¡± he says, leaning against the stone wall next to my door, dressed in jeans, a tight ck shirt, and his red and ck letterman jacket, ¡°can¡¯t be wrapped.¡±


    My cheeks flush, and I lick my lower lip.


    ¡°Look at you, all poetic and romantic,¡± I murmur, putting the stack of presents carefully on my bed forter. What a treat that¡¯ll be toe home to. What girl wouldn¡¯t want to go on a date with her hunky football yer


    boyfriend, and thene back to a stack of beautifully wrapped gifts from her other four beaus.


    I¡¯m starting to feel spoiled.


    Zack takes my arm and we head outside, threading through sun-dappled woods toward the visitors lot until we get to his orange McLaren. He opens the doors-which lift up in a BaFk to the Future sort of way-and holds my hand while I climb in, ever the gentleman.


    True to his word, we hit the bookstore and load up on yaoi-yes, more of the super sexual Japanese manga that I like. I¡¯m not even ashamed to admit it anymore. Zack decides to go a different route and ends up deciding to try some yuri-a girl on girl version of the books I¡¯ve got. He says he¡¯s not really into manga, but I appreciate that he¡¯s willing to give it a try.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was my thing either until ¡­ well, I read some and now it definitely is my thing,¡± I say as we get back in the car, and Zack puts the giant bag of books in the backseat.


    Theke where we¡¯re having our pic is the very same one that I attended my first Infinity Club party at, in the upper northeast section of campus. When we get there, there¡¯s already a pic table set up with a white cloth, an old-fashioned looking basket, and bottles of chilled sparkling cider.


    My cheeks flush, and I bite my lip.


    ¡°Too cheesy?¡± Zack asks, tucking his hands into his pockets, but it¡¯s not, and I shake my head.


    ¡°Not to me,¡± I tell him, taking a seat and finding out that inside the basket, he¡¯s put all my favorite foods: purple grapes, smi and crackers, hummus and pretzels, dried banana chips, and dark chocte with sea salt.


    The spot Zack¡¯s picked is so close to the water that when I kick off my shoes, I can dip my toe in. Of course, even though it¡¯s sunny outside, it¡¯s still February, and theke¡¯s a bit icy. Birds chirp, and the trees rustle pleasantly in the wind.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m not ying around, right?¡± he asks me, standing up and moving over to sit on my side of the table, so close that I can feel his body heat.


    ¡°I never thought you were,¡± I tell him, but he¡¯s already shaking his head. ¡°No, but ¡­ when I saw you that morning after ¡­¡± Neither of us needs to


    say it: we both know exactly what he¡¯s talking about. After I slept with Creed. ¡°I knew I wasn¡¯t trying hard enough. Marnye,¡± Zack continues, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into hisp. The boys do that a lot, and I


    let them because I like it. I really, really do. ¡°You¡¯ve been asking metely about college and my ns for the future. But you know what? You are my n for the future. You¡¯re what I want.¡±


    ¡°Zack,¡± I start, but he lifts his fingers up and brushes them down the side of my face. His heart is racing as fast as mine. I can see it in the thundering of the pulse point in his throat.


    ¡°It¡¯s true. You said it yourself: we have everything. We want for nothing. But that¡¯s not true. The only thing I¡¯ve ever really wanted with a passion is you.¡± He pulls my face close and then kisses me with the scent of sweet grapes on his breath, his tongue tasting me as carefully as I sampled that chocte earlier. And the sounds he makes are so dark and tinged with need that I wonder if he finds me as decadent as I did our dessert.


    We start to kiss, my hands winding around his neck, fingers ying with the fine, soft hairs at the base of his scalp. I¡¯m essentially straddling him now, and I realize how short my dress is. It¡¯s already riding up, and I shiver as a cool breeze sweeps across theke and gives me goose bumps.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the car,¡± he whispers, and I nod, sliding off so he can stand up. The first thing he does is give me his letterman jacket. It¡¯s huge on me, but I love swimming in all that Zack-scented fabric. ¡°It¡¯s as long as your damn dress,¡± he murmurs, but


    in a very appreciative sort of way.

 212

    We pack up the remainder of our pic, and take the short winding path back to the car.


    Zack slides into the passenger seat and pulls me onto hisp, closing the doors of his orange McLaren, and trapping us in our own private little bubble. He sweeps his arms around me, and I revel in the feeling of strength, of being protected.


    ¡°Oh, Marnye,¡± he murmurs, putting one of his big hands on the back of my head and pulling me in for a kiss. The way Zack Brooks kisses is so different from the other boys, slow and sensual and romantic in a way that can¡¯t be faked. He really believes in that kind of stuff, that fuck-the-rest-of- the-world, sun-is-always-shining, pink-clouds-are-in-the-sky sort of romance. Soulmates. Together forever. Young love.


    I groan as Zack sucks on my bottom lip, the faintest brush of his stubble on his face tickling me as he moves his mouth along the line of my jaw, and down my throat, paying special attention to the racing of my pulse. Between my thighs, I can feel him growing hard in his jeans, his letterman jacket


    swimming on my shoulders, decorated for both varsity football and track and field.


    He pushes my dress up my legs and cups my ass.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the academy,¡± he whispers, pulling me against him. It feels so good, I don¡¯t want to stop. But he¡¯s right. I¡¯m not ready to have sex in a sportscar next to theke. That¡¯s a bit next level for a noob like me.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I reply, voice shaky, already wondering if I¡¯m crazy.


    I¡¯ve only had sex twice, and until a month a half ago, I was still a virgin. Am I really going to go home with a second guy?


    I ask myself why it matters so much. I care about Creed, and I care about Zack. If there was a gun to my head right now, I¡¯m not sure that I could choose between them, so what¡¯s wrong with going back to his dorm? I ¡­ love him.


    My body flushes with heat, and I push the door open, letting Zack climb out so he can get in the driver¡¯s seat. I don¡¯t tell him about the thought that I just had. I don¡¯t even think about.


    The sex ¡­ I can handle.


    I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m ready for the rest of it.


    Zack and I stand in silence in the elevator in Tower Three, him with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his pants, um, bulging in a certain special spot. He looks up at the ceiling and exhales, and I can¡¯t stop a giggle from escaping.


    ¡°What?¡± he asks, lifting a brow at me. He looks almost as nervous as I do. ¡°Just ¡­ us.¡± I lift my head up and chew on my lip for a moment, ncing sideways at my reflection I the mirrored wall. I hardly recognize myself, with that short rose-gold hair. The only damage from the Harpies¡¯ attack was that it¡¯s a bit shorter on the sides than it was before. Miranda cleaned it all up, so there wouldn¡¯t be any patchy spots, and I have to say, it honestly


    looks better than it did before. ¡°Me and you. We¡¯re so nervous.¡± Heughs then, and swipes a big hand down his face.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± he admits as the door opens and we step into the hall. I wait anxiously as Zack unlocks the door to his dorm and steps aside, so I can go in. He doesn¡¯t bother to turn the lights on, instead moving over to the living room window and tosses aside the curtains. The sun is sinking behind the horizon, but there¡¯s still plenty of orange-gold light to see by.


    ¡°You ¡­ you¡¯re not a virgin, are you?¡± I ask in a whisper, wondering with a small twinge of jealousy what might¡¯ve happened if he hadn¡¯t walked away from me in middle school, if he¡¯d stuck around and our rtionship had bloomed from the seed of that first kiss. Then again, maybe he wasn¡¯t ready? Maybe I wasn¡¯t?


    ¡°N-no.¡± Zack pauses and turns to look at me, exhaling sharply. ¡°But I¡¯m clean. I ¡­¡± He scowls briefly and moves over to the kitchte area, taking a man folder off the stone countertop and handing it over to me. ¡°Zayd and Tristan heard me talking about having tests done, and they fucking copied me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so you thought of it first?¡± I tease as I flip open the folder and scan the pages inside. My cheeks heat up as I close it and hand it back. This is all so very adult. What happened between me and Creed was a little ¡­ messier. ¡°Pretty much,¡± Zack teases, tossing the folder aside, and stepping forward.


    He puts his hands on either side of my hips and pins me against the counter with his body. His sporty smell is all around me, an aphrodisiac that lures me into boldness. ¡°Is there anything else you want to know about ¡­ any past girlfriends? Because I only want to say it once, and then I want to move on. Fuck them all. They¡¯re nothingpared to you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t demean other women like that,¡± I whisper, swallowing hard. ¡°Saying things like you¡¯re not like other girls is a tool of the patriarchy. Actually, did you know that in the 1920s-¡±


    ¡°Oh, fuck yeah, keep talking history and politics,¡± Zack murmurs, undting his hips against me, so I can feel his hard-on through his jeans. ¡°It¡¯s hot as hell.¡±Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Liar,¡± I whisper, but then he reaches down and takes my hand, putting it on his crotch. His eyes are molten when I look up and into them.


    ¡°Does that feel like a lie?¡± he asks, and I almost excuse myself to the bathroom to squeal. Several times this year, I¡¯ve woken up, looked around, and wondered whose life this is. It¡¯s surreal.


    ¡°How many girls have you slept with?¡± I ask, and Zack pauses, like he has to think for a moment.


    ¡°Five.¡±


    I cringe, and


    he shrugs his broad shoulders.

 213

    ¡°Before this is all over, you might have five guys under your belt, Marnye.¡± He cups the side of my face and rubs a thumb up the side of my jaw. He¡¯s right though. What morality dais do I have to stand on and judge him? What even is morality anyway? And is that really a debate I want to have with myself while my hand is cupping Zack Brooks¡¯ crotch? No. Nope. Definitely not. ¡°Anything else? Names? Circumstances?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I shake my head vehemently. ¡°No, that¡¯s enough. Thank you.¡± ¡°Can I focus on making love to you now?¡± he asks, and my face flushes.


    ¡°Making love?¡± I squeak as Zack sweeps me up into his muscr arms and carries me into his bedroom. He opens his curtains, so we can see the sunset, and then chucks his shirt. His body is a freaking wondend. Broad shoulders, trim waist, those perfect ¡®V¡¯ muscles on his hips. I¡¯m practically drooling as I look him over. The only thing I¡¯m not a huge fan of is the infinity tattoo on his right hip.


    ¡°Making love, Marnye. I told you before and I¡¯ll say it again. I¡¯m not fucking ashamed of it. I love you.¡±


    ¡°Stop it, Zack,¡± I whisper, but he doesn¡¯t seem to have any intention of doing that. He kicks off his shoes and socks, and then yanks my ts off, tossing them against the wall. The letterman jacket he leaves on me.


    ¡°Why is that so hard for you to ept?¡± he asks as he crawls onto the bed and pauses above me on all fours. His brown eyes are so deep that I feel like I could fall into them and tumble forever. ¡°You¡¯re worthy of my love and then some. Sometimes I wonder if the universe is trying to teach me a lesson by giving you so many goddamn boyfriends. I¡¯m not enough. You deserve it all.¡±


    ¡°Zack.¡± I put my hands on either side of his face, and he leans down to kiss, tasting my mouth with slow, easy motions, carefully settling himself on top of me, so that our bodies are melded together. His fingers push up my dress the same way he did in the car, but this time, there¡¯s nobody around to see.


    He finds my panties and then draws back, separating from my mouth with a groan.


    ¡°You taste so damn good,¡± Zack whispers, pulling the pink heart-patterned panties all the way off and chucking them onto the floor. Gently, carefully, he pushes my knees apart, and my heart thunders. It was dark when Creed


    and I had sex. It¡¯s definitely not dark in here. At first, the thought of Zack looking at me freaks me out. ¡°You¡¯re beautiful, Marnye. Every single part of you.¡±Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I¡¯m trembling as Zack moves forward, settling himself between my thighs and tasting me in a wholly andpletely different way from before.


    My eyes water and I fling my head back into the pillows, breathing like I¡¯m running a marathon and letting the sensations of Zack¡¯s mouth and tongue settle over me. It feels so good that I end up burying my fingers in his chocte colored hair and gripping on for dear life. He grunts, but he doesn¡¯t stop until I¡¯m shaking and shivering, my body rebelling against the waves of pleasure.


    Zack seems to sense it¡¯s time, and slides two fingers into me, giving me a climax that rocks my body so hard that I¡¯m still trembling and shaking when he rises back up and looks down at me like I¡¯m the most beautiful thing he¡¯s ever seen.


    ¡°Do I have to take the jacket off?¡± he whispers, grinning as I shake my head. I¡¯m having trouble remembering my own name right now, let alone how to make words. Zack kisses me again, caressing my body with his hands, kneading my breasts through the fabric of the dress. I let my hands explore his muscr body, pausing to tease his nipples. He seemed to like it before, at the B&B, so ¡­


    Nothing¡¯s changed since then, and soon I¡¯ve got him moaning against me, rocking his denim-d body against the bareness of my core.


    The sun finally sinks beneath the horizon, but the moon¡¯s full enough to see by, and we¡¯re in no hurry to get up and turn the lights on.


    After a while, Zack undoes his jeans and then stands up, shucking both his pants and boxers to the floor. He climbs back onto the bed with me and guides my hand to his body, showing me how to stroke and tease him until he¡¯s moving against my palm, panting heavily.


    ¡°Now,¡± I whisper when my skin starts to feel hot and achy, like it¡¯s trapping my spirit inside.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he murmurs, biting my lower lip and reaching over to open the drawer on his bedside table. He has a box of unopened condoms in there. Good. For a second there, I was about to freak out. I¡¯d just sort of assumed he hadn¡¯t slept with anyone since transferring to Burberry Prep ¡­ Then again, I don¡¯t want to know. Either way, I do not want to know. ¡°I don¡¯t


    know how you and Creed-¡± He stops himself because he¡¯s grinding his teeth so damn hard. ¡°But if there¡¯s a different position you want to try ¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh. Um.¡±


    My heart thunders, and I feel myself flush as I prop myself up on my elbows, and then ¡­ you know, turn over.


    Zack chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me, taking over my entire body, right down to my blood and bones. He fits the condom on, and then touches his big hands to my hips. He positions himself against me, and I curl my fingers into the sheets. He isn¡¯t quite as slow as Creed when he enters me, but I like it anyway, and a small sound escapes me.


    Our bodies connect fully and I see starbursts.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you, Marnye,¡± he whispers as he begins to move, and before the night is over, I¡¯ve shuddered, climaxed, and fallen apart in his arms more than once.


    I fall asleep wrapped in the safety of his big, broad arms, his jacket still on my shoulders, his heart


    beating against my cheek.

 214

    There are no etiquette guides online for how to tell four of your boyfriends that you slept with number five. It just doesn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°Were they pissed?¡± Miranda whispers, eyes wide as I sit on the couch in her and Creed¡¯s apartment, wondering when he¡¯s going toe back so I can see him before I head back to my own room.


    ¡°I just ¡­ I don¡¯t understand how it works,¡± Lizzie says, grimacing slightly, her bouncy curls swept up into a high pony. She¡¯s on the floor, twirling a spoon around in a container of ice cream. ¡°I¡¯m the jealous type I guess. I could never share.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I say with a guilty shrug of my shoulders. I curl my knees up on the couch and put my arms around them. ¡°But I don¡¯t have to. They¡¯re not allowed to date anyone else, that¡¯s how our arrangement works. I told them it was their punishment for all the things they¡¯d done to me. For once in their spoiled, privileged little lives, they can¡¯t have everything exactly when and how they want it.¡±


    ¡°I happen to think you¡¯ve changed Creed for the better,¡± Miranda deres, and there¡¯s a softness in her gaze that¡¯s getting easier over time. The more time she spends with Jessie, the less she looks at me like that. Not that I mind. I just ¡­ unrequited love sucks.


    I look over at Lizzie without meaning to and her amber eyes lock on mine. Maybe Tristan¡¯s love is requited? I have no idea. We don¡¯t talk about


    Lizzie much.


    ¡°So,¡± Miranda begins and my head snaps up as I sense a bout of crassness ready to spill from her pretty lips, ¡°did you and Tristan ever sleep together?¡± ¡°Mandy,¡± I grind out, but she waves me away. She¡¯s just eaten one of the pot choctes I got from Zayd during first year. I have yet to try any, but Miranda found them in my stuff and ate one about ¡­ forty-five minutes ago.


    Pretty sure the effects of the THC are kicking in now.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, we¡¯re all girlfriends,¡± she says, and Andrew nces up from his phone screen. ¡°What? You could be a girlfriend, too, if you¡¯d stop sucking up to your dad and just tell him you want to bang Gary Jacobs.¡±


    ¡°Not ready for that, but ¡®kay, thanks,¡± Andrew says, rolling his eyes and then giving Lizzie a look. ¡°You don¡¯t have to answer her question, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Lizzie whispers, ncing back at me. ¡°But it¡¯s fine, I don¡¯t mind. No, Tristan and I never had sex. We kissed, but ¡­ that¡¯s pretty much it.¡± My heart soars, even though I feel like an asshole, and I do my best to mp down on the emotion. Whether they did it together or not has nothing to do with my feelings toward Tristan.


    I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m harping on this. I just went over it with Zack.


    The past doesn¡¯t matter except as a history lesson, a series of mistakes to be learned from. It¡¯s the present that defines us, and the future we look toward with hope. Waxing poetiF, again. I looked it up online, you know, spontaneous word vomit in the brain, and the number one symptom that kepting up was love. Over and over and over again.


    I chucked my phone against the wall in frustration and nearly broke it. ¡°So, they weren¡¯t pissed?¡± Miranda asks, bringing us full circle back to


    the start of the conversation.


    ¡°Jealous, maybe,¡± I say, thinking of Zayd¡¯s clenched jaw. ¡°But not pissed at me. At each other, more like.¡±


    ¡°I wish I had a harem of girls fighting over me,¡± Lizzie says with a wistful sigh, just before the door opens and Creed walks in. He sees me sitting there, and slips out of his red academy jacket, giving that cavalier smirk that I used to hate but now crave with a frenzy I can¡¯t exin.


    ¡°Did youe over to fuck me?¡± he asks with a saucy little wink, sauntering over and unfolding his long, boneless princely body on the couch between me and Lizzie.


    ¡°No. Did you wake up deciding to be asshole today?¡± I ask, but all I get are a pair of heavy-lidded blue bedroom eyes, and a racing heart. ¡°We were


    just discussing what happened between me and Zack.¡± Creed scowls, but he doesn¡¯t say anything. How could he? He went out of his way to unt girls in front of mest year, just to make me feel sad and lonely and jealous.


    And I¡¯m not doing any of this to make him feel bad. Although ¡­ I¡¯m starting to.


    How long can I date all of these guys without hurting them? How can I pick one without destroying the others?


    That is not a question I¡¯m eager to find the answer to.


    Spring break gives me another chance to talk to Charlie about my new boyfriends. I¡¯m nning on it, but when I get home, the first thing he does is tell me he¡¯s transferred his care from Harper¡¯s family¡¯s medical center to ¡­ somewhere else.


    The first person I call in a panic is Windsor, hiding in the corner of my room near the closet and hoping Dad can¡¯t hear me talking on the phone.


    ¡°Wind, he move treatment centers,¡± I choke out before the prince even has a chance to say hello. There¡¯s a long pause, and the slow easy chuckle of a man who knows he owns the world.


    ¡°Yes, I know. I was going to talk to you about that when I stopped by.¡± ¡°Stopped by?¡± I ask, and Windughs again.


    ¡°I have nowhere to stay for Spring Break, so I thought ¡­¡± I narrow my eyes and lean my back against the wall. This is typical Windsor York behavior right here, acting innocent while really, he¡¯s been calcting all along.


    ¡°You thought you¡¯d stay here again?¡± I stare at myself in the vanity mirror across the room, at my big, wide brown eyes, full of fearMaterial ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    for Charlie. I can¡¯t lose him.

 215

    I can¡¯t fucking lose my dad or else this shiny newness I feel when I¡¯m around the boys, it¡¯ll just fade away into dull background noise. My whole world will fall apart.


    ¡°Only if you¡¯re okay with it,¡± he says, and I hear the sound of a mattress creaking as he adjusts himself. ¡°I was going to tell you that despite Club


    rules, I don¡¯t trust Harper and her family. I moved your dad to an even better medical facility that a friend of my mother¡¯s owns.¡±


    ¡°You moved my dad¡¯s treatment center without telling me?¡± I ask, and there¡¯s a long, long pause. I¡¯m not mad, exactly, but this is a perfect example of why, although I trust Wind, I just ¡­ don¡¯t know how to feel about him. On the one hand, I¡¯m ted, but on the other, I just wish he¡¯d consulted me.


    ¡°It was ast minute thing,¡± he says, sounding suddenly tired. And that¡¯s weird. Because Windsor York, he¡¯s never tired. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to undermine your decision making with your father, I¡¯m just ¡­ overwhelmed and trying to get things done without hitches in the programming, if you know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°You?¡± I choke out. ¡°You¡¯re overwhelmed?¡±


    ¡°It happens, once in a blue moon,¡± he says, gathering some of his usual royal confidence back in his voice. ¡°A lot of bullshit happens behind the scenes of the Infinity Club, you know. When you finally say yes to marrying me, and join up, you¡¯ll find out for yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather die than join that Club,¡± I say cheerfully, and Windsorughs. ¡°I figured as much, love. That¡¯s why I joined for you.¡±


    There¡¯s a long pause as I slide down the wall in relief and lean my head back against it. Dad¡¯s still being taken care of. Okay. That¡¯s good. He doesn¡¯t look great, but he swears this new pot tincture that Mrs. Fleming keeps bringing over is doing wonders for him. He seems happy, at the very least.


    ¡°You cane over and have dinner with us on Friday,¡± I tell Wind, already sort of wishing it was Friday, so that I could see him. He makes me happy when he¡¯s around. Even if he¡¯s weird, and does questionable things, he¡¯s got a charisma that¡¯s like a drug. I just want more of it. ¡°Bring some of that sparkling non-alcoholic cider for my dad-he likes the bubbles.¡±


    ¡°And you? Another pair of panties?¡±


    ¡°If you bring them, I won¡¯t wear them,¡± I quip, and then when he¡¯s silent, I realize how that sounded.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll bring several pairs, and maybe you can go knicker-free for days.¡± Windsor hangs up before I get a chance to retaliate with some (probably not so) witty banter of my own.


    Windsor York shows up with a giant wooden box full of fancy non-alcoholic ciders from all over California that my dad practically drools over.


    ¡°He¡¯s my favorite friend of yours,¡± he whispers as he opens in the kitchen and runs his fingers over thebels on the bottles. I stand there for a moment, looking at Charlie¡¯s back, and then-because Windsor has that magical honesty-gathering quality-I just blurt it out.


    ¡°I¡¯m dating him.¡±


    Dad pauses and then nces over his shoulder, blinking away his surprise before he turns around to face me.


    ¡°You are?¡± he asks, and I nod. Dad reaches up to adjust his hat and whistles. ¡°Okay, wow. I mean, I wasn¡¯t expecting that, but he seems polite and well-groomed, and at least he¡¯s not a bully.¡± Oh, Dad, if you only knew: Windsor York is a bully of bullies. He enjoys hurting people who enjoy hurting people. I mean, it¡¯s not as bad as what the Harpies do, but still ¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re not ¡­ mad?¡± I ask, and Dad gives me this soft, sweet sort of smile that scares me. I don¡¯t want to see smiles like that, smiles that say one day I won¡¯t be here, so you need to learn from me while you Fan. I hate it.


    ¡°Marnye-bear, you¡¯ll be eighteen in less than half a year. You¡¯ve got excellent grades, ambition a guy like your old man could only dream of, and a bright future. If you like this boy, I trust your judgment. Besides, you¡¯re far past the point in your life where I can micromanage every little thing you do.¡±


    I smile at him, and he smiles back. When we hug, I almost blurt the rest of it out, about the other four boys. But then the bathroom door opens and Windsor¡¯s footsteps pause in the entryway to the kitchen.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?¡± he asks, rolling up the sleeves of his white and blue pinstripe shirt. His red hair is a little longer on top now, and he¡¯s got it all tousled and sexy looking. ¡°Perhaps I could pour you a ss of cider, and you could sit outside and rx?¡± Windsor raises his red brows, and my dad gives him an I¡¯m impressed, son sort of a look.


    ¡°That¡¯d be ¡­ amazing actually,¡± Charlie says, chuckling gruffly at gesturing at all the foodid out on the counter. We went shopping for our favorite vegetable stew stuff today, and there¡¯s a lot of chopping that needs to be done. ¡°I had a long day at work, and I¡¯d love to kick up my feet.¡±


    ¡°Consider your meal cooked,¡± Windsor says, and Dad gives me a little wink as he moves over to the sliding ss door, opens it, and steps out into the warm spring sunshine.


    ¡°Do you know how to make vegetable stew?¡± I ask, and Windsor turns his hazel eyes on me, moving over to stand in front of me as I lean back against the counter. He puts his hands on either side of me and grabs the loose ties of my apron, turning them into a pretty little bow before a cavalier little smi


    le lights up his face and he puts his lips against my cheek.

 216

    Creed and I are sitting in the gazebo in the rear courtyard. He¡¯s studying like crazy, and I¡¯m looking at my revenge list and crossing names off. I¡¯m here in case he needs me, but he¡¯s been trying so much hardertely that I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to have a problem pulling all As and Bs in his sses.


    I am going to whoop your ass, Tristan Vanderbilt, I think as I stare at the names on the notebook paper I stole back from him.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Marnye Reed


    The Harpies The Girls: Harper du Pont, BeFky tter, and Ileana


    Taittinger


    The Company Their Cronies: Anna KirkpatriFk, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel,


    Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner, Kiara Xiao, and Ben Thresher


    The Plebs


    After a moment of careful consideration, I decide to finally cross Plebs off my list. First off, we¡¯vepletely taken over the school and I¡¯m now being worshipped as an Idol. If that doesn¡¯t count as revenge, I don¡¯t know what does. Second, forgiveness is the focus of my journey right now, and I can¡¯t possibly locate all the idiots who dumped condoms on my doorstep or spray- painted insults on my door.


    So, I cross that off, and it feels freeing as hell.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    I¡¯m also d to see Greg and John bite the dust. They are gone from Burberry Prep-permanently. And the nude photos that got circted included both girls and boys from their own group. Talk about a double whammy.


    Still, there are a lot of names on that list, and even though they¡¯ve gotten their fair share of just desserts, I¡¯m not crossing them off until they¡¯re either gone, or I no longer perceive them to be a threat.


    Harper and Co. is most definitely still a threat.


    ¡°Done,¡± Creed says, pushing his tablet toward me, so I can check his answers.


    Every single one is right, and I look up with a grin. He gives me azy housecat smile in response, and before I even know what¡¯s-what, I¡¯m in hisp and kissing him like my life depends on it. I¡¯d like to do this every day, please and thank you.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zayd says, panting as he runs up to us, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees for a moment, so he can catch his breath. He turns his green gaze up to look at the two of us, and a flicker of jealousy shadows his eyes for a moment before he blinks it away. ¡°Thought you guys might want to see some action going down in the front courtyard.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I ask, and Zayd grins and winks.


    ¡°Remember what I said about Myron? Well, Tristan sent him sniffing for trouble, and he found some.¡±


    Creed and I exchange a look, and then we¡¯re both standing up and following Zayd into the chapel building, down the hall, and out the front doors toward the courtyard. There¡¯s no crowd when we get there, just a couple of girls and a boy in inclothes, a pair of drivers loading up their suitcases. It¡¯s not until I get a little bit closer that I recognize the three of them: Anna Kirkpatrick, Ebony Peterson, and Sai Patel.


    Tristan is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, Lizzie beside him (why?!), and Myron on her other side. They all nce over at me


    as I step up to stand next to Tristan.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, my list clutched in hand. No way was I leaving it there for any random Pleb-or more importantly, Harper-to find. Sure, it doesn¡¯t exactly say anything damning, but I still don¡¯t want it to end up in the wrong hands.


    ¡°Busted for buying paying others to do their coursework for them,¡± Myron answers, and I think maybe that¡¯s the first time he¡¯s ever spoken directly to me. ¡°They¡¯re being expelled. Apparently it¡¯s been going on since first year.¡± He smirks, and I see a darkness in his face that makes Tristan look like a pussycat. I have a feeling, though, that Zayd wasn¡¯t just talking about the guy¡¯s gumshoeing skills when he warned me about him.


    Myron Talbot has violence etched into every feature.


    I¡¯m guessing the only thing that¡¯s keeping him in check is Tristan Vanderbilt.


    ¡°They¡¯re being expelled?¡± I repeat, and Tristan smiles, ncing over at me.


    ¡°Taking out the trash, one bag at a time.¡± He turns toward me and then reaches down, sliding a finger across my corbone and stealing my breath away. ¡°Next year, I don¡¯t want you to worry about anything. I¡¯ve still got a ways to go with Harper, but there¡¯s always the summer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like we can¡¯t finish the list next year,¡± I say, wrinkling my brow and giving him a look. Tristan puts his hand on the top of my head, ruffles up my hair in a distinctly un-Tristan-like way, and then turns to head for Tower Three. Lizzie trails behind him, giving me a half-smile as she passes, and frankly, I¡¯m relieved to see Myron go with them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that guy,¡± Zack says, appearing from the direction of the chapel building with Windsor by his side. Looking at him, I still have a hard time believing that he went down on me, that he slid into me from behind. His brown eyes swing my way, like he knows exactly what I¡¯m thinking about and finds it amusing.


    Swallowing hard, I tuck my fingers in the pockets of my zer and try to act casual.


    ¡°Myron?¡± I ask, and Zack nods.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him,¡± Creed drawls, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°He¡¯s Tristan¡¯s pet. I¡¯d only worry if our illustrious king drops the leash.¡± He sighs and looks down at me, cocking his head to one side as I lift up my list and stare down at it. Three more names to cross off. Fantastic. ¡°It¡¯s getting


    dark. Maybe we should collect our stuff a


    nd head back to my ce to finish up?¡±

 217

    ¡°I figured you¡¯d be the head chef, and I¡¯d be your sous chef. After all, I don¡¯t mind a little power y. Tame me, mistress.¡± He kisses me so softly that I almost wonder if I imagine it, pulling back, and then digging into the pocket of his white shorts for a pair of new panties that he cucks my way. These one says PrinFess on the cheeks. My eyes narrow to slits. ¡°Now, you promised you¡¯d gomando if I brought these along. And remember, those were your rules: no lies.¡±


    ¡°Hah.¡± I flip him off and put the panties in my room,ing back to the kitchen to find Wind in Dad¡¯s apron, pouring a generous ss of cider and taking a sip. He sighs, and then pours a second ss to take outside to Charlie. When hees back in and closes the sliding door against the heat, I give him a look. ¡°You ready to work? Because good food doesn¡¯t make itself, despite what you may have thought growing up. People actually work behind the scenes in those kitchens.¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t say,¡± Windsor says, narrowing his eyes on me in challenge. ¡°You know I never back down from a fight. Direct me, mdy.¡±


    We work together to chop all the good stuff-potatoes, mushrooms, celery, onions, carrots, garlic, rosemary, thyme, and tomatoes-and then work on getting it all in a pot to simmer. After that, we have a little while to rx, and Dad¡¯s now on the phone with his friend, Mack, from college, so we head into my room and Windsor immediately makes himselffortable on my bed.


    He pats the spot next to him, and even though I¡¯m not entirely sure this is a good idea, I sit down.


    He sweeps an arm around my waist, and nuzzle up against my back.


    ¡°Thank you for having me over all the time, crashing your personal time with Dad.¡± He says the words against my bare skin, his lips moving sensually against that little bare stripe of flesh between the top of my sweatpants and the bottom of my tank top.


    ¡°Is there a reason you likeing over here?¡± I ask, wondering if he¡¯s like Tristan, escaping an abusive parent or something.


    Windsor sits up, propping himself on an elbow, and looking at me from irises flecked with gold, green, silver, brown, and amber. It¡¯s like all the colors in the world are contained in those eyes.


    ¡°I just like spending time with you,¡± he tells me, and my heart thumps so violently it feels like I might have hups. ¡°And I like your dad. Mine¡¯s dead. I miss him sometimes.¡± Wind pauses and then sits up, pulling me into the circle of his arms until we¡¯re cuddled together in a way that Charlie might not appreciate if he were to show.


    Still ¡­ it feels so good, I tell myself just another minute or two can¡¯t hurt. When Dad gets on the phone with Mack, they can talk for hours sometimes.


    ¡°You brought your suitcase with you,¡± I say, and feel Windsor smiling against my neck.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to stay at that awful B&B again, the haunted one with the bad customer service.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t have bad customer service, they just don¡¯t kiss,¡± I say, feeling an irritational need to defend the Bayside Bed and Breakfast against this spoiled little rich kid. ¡°But the ghost thing, that¡¯s true. In 1902, a woman-¡± Windsor turns my head just enough that he can lean forward and kiss me over my shoulder, dropping both of his hands to my breasts and squeezing them just hard enough to make me moan.


    He moves back suddenly, releasing me and exhaling sharply, like even he wasn¡¯t quite aware of what he was doing.


    ¡°Bloody fucking hell, Zack¡¯s right. You start talking historical facts, and it¡¯s just ¡­ it must be the passion in your voice.¡± For once in his life, Windsor sounds a bit startled.


    ¡°Wind,¡± I start, because my heart is aching. I turn around to look at him, and I see it. It¡¯s been there this whole time, from moment one. He¡¯s been my friend since he set foot on the academy campus, but he¡¯s also had a crush on me. A real one. ¡°Are you even allowed to date to peasant girls?¡±


    He raises a red brow and then reaches out to stroke some of my hair back.


    ¡°I told you: I¡¯m probably the least obligated boy you¡¯re dating right now.


    Mdy, consider it: marry me.¡±


    ¡°Stop joking around,¡± I say, pping him in the chest and sighing. ¡°Even if I were interested in marrying someone, someday, I¡¯m going to college first. Bornstead, if I can.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have my mother write you a rmendation letter,¡± Windsor says absently, but even though I get really excited at the prospect, I¡¯m not sure I can ept that. No, I want to aplish this on my own merit. Wind pauses and seems to notice the expression on my face. ¡°Or at the very least, let me help pay for your schooling. Your mind is beyond brilliant, love.¡± He reaches out and touches a finger to the center of my forehead. ¡°You¡¯ll do great things one day.¡±


    I smile, and then hear the sound of the ss lid on the pot clinking, pushing up from the bed to go and check on it.


    After the stew¡¯s done, Windsor and I sit outside with Charlie, and I very casually suggest that the prince stay the rest of the week with us, so we can all go fishing together, and maybe try another round of bowling. Wind says he likes a challenge, right? My dad is boss when ites to bowling.


    Oddly enough, Charlie agrees (although the open door rule still applies), and Wind blends so seamlessly into our little family, that I almost forget I have four other boyfriends waiting for me back aBelongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    t Burberry Prep.


    Almost. All of them head over heels.

 218

    ¡°Right,¡± Zack growls as Windsor narrows his eyes on both of them. ¡°You just want her toe up to study? I call bullshit.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you let me and Marnye worry about that?¡± Creed asks, as Zayd scowls, reaching up to ruffle his hair. It¡¯s sea green again. He dyed it sometime during spring break and showed up with it like that. Pretty sure I squealed and threw my arms around his neck. I¡¯m kind of attached to that color now.


    ¡°How about Marnyees up with me, and we finally get it on?¡± Zayd says, lighting up a cigarette and giving me a wink. He dances out of the way when I try to pluck it from his lips, and I sigh. I put my hands on my hips and stare him down. After a few puffs, he sighs dramatically and then hands it over to me, watching sadly as I tap it out against the stone ground, and then throw it away. ¡°You¡¯re such a shithead,¡± he murmurs, but he says it so affectionately that it doesn¡¯t bother me.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go back to my room now,¡± I tell them all, lifting an eyebrow. ¡°And I¡¯m going to read some of my gauche manga books, and then take a nap. None of you should have time for sex, not with finals around the corner. Third year¡¯s the most important when ites to getting into college, and I¡¯m off to Bornstead if it kills me.¡±


    I attempt a hair flip, fail, and then saunter off in my shiny kitten heels, and hope I look hot as fuck.


    Probably not, but, you know, it was worth a try.


    A few weekster, when I seriously feel like I have nothing left to give back to the monster that is the brutal Burberry Prep academics schedule, I find Zayd asleep in the library. He¡¯s lying facedown on his notebook, a pen still clutched loosely in his tattooed hand. Carefully, I pull it out and pack up his things for him.


    Then I gently shake his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up.


    ¡°He¡¯s out, isn¡¯t he?¡± Miranda asks, chuckling behind me. But even herughter is diminished in quality. We¡¯re all so tired, overwhelmed, stressed out. I don¡¯t know if I can beat Tristan this year. I¡¯m trying. You bet your ass I¡¯m trying with everything I¡¯ve got, but maybe I¡¯ve overextended myself a bit?


    ¡°Hey.¡± I shake Zayd a little harder, and he lifts his head up, this sleepy, groggy mess. He¡¯s so damn cute, with his mussed green hair, and tattoos, one of his lip rings sticking out a weird angle. I reach out and poke it back into ce with a finger. ¡°You feel asleep.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± he says, checking his watch and then groaning. ¡°Eleven o¡¯clock? Seriously?¡± He gathers up his stuff, and the librarians follow us all out, locking the door behind us. Usually the library close at eight, but they have extended hours for the end of the year. ¡°Imagine all the shit the Harpies could¡¯ve pulled on me if I hadn¡¯t been snoring in direct view of the librarian¡¯s desk,¡± he says, rubbing at his face.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t care about your grades much?¡± I ask, wondering if I¡¯ve ever really seen Zayd studying before. The answer is ¡­ no. In three years, I don¡¯t recall many-if an-attempts on his part to improve his grades ¡°Yeah, well,¡± he murmurs, but then he just stops talking and yawns, and I¡¯m too tired to press him for answers. Jessie meets us about halfway back to the towers, and asks Miranda to join her for ate night snack in The Mess.


    The dining hall, too, is open until midnight until finals are over. ¡°Go,¡± Zayd tells her, linking his arm with mine. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Miranda says, taking her girlfriend¡¯s arm and peeling off to head into the dining room. One of our new ¡®Inner Circle¡¯ members, Briana Chow, opens the door and follows them inside, big purple circles of fatigue under her eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m too tired to eat,¡± I admit, and Zayd grins. ¡°Same.¡±


    We head back to my room, and I invite him in, smiling as he copses on my bed. I head into the kitchen to make a quick cup of chamomile, so my exhausted but still wired brain can actually get some sleep.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Do you want any tea?¡± I ask, but Zayd doesn¡¯t answer. I check on him again and find that he¡¯s passed out. I don¡¯t have the heart to wake him again, so I untangle his bookbag from his shoulder and go to put on the chair in the corner. As I move it, a piece of paper falls out and flutters to the floor.


    Bornstead University AppliFation CheFklist.


    That¡¯s the title.


    My breath hitches, and I flick my eyes over to Zayd again.


    This the rock star here, the lead singer of Afterglow, son to rock royal Billy Kaiser.


    And yet ¡­ he¡¯s studying his ass off and trying to get into one of the most prestigious universities in the country.


    Why?


    Because of me?


    I finish my tea, sip it slowly as I watch Zayd sleep, and then turn the lights before I climb into bed. I curl my body around him and cover us both up with the nkets. Before I know it, I¡¯m asleep too, the hard, warm shape of his body bringing me morefort than the chamomile tea ever could.


    Next week is finals week.


    I barely see my friends. I hardly kiss my boyfriends (that¡¯s a serious crime in and of itself), and I get my ass kicked so hard by the exams that when thest day of schooles, I stumble over to the roster on the wall and find Tristan¡¯s name above mine.


    ¡°You son of a bitch!¡± I choke as he grins and grabs me around the waist, pulling me close and kissing me on the side of the neck.


    ¡°It only took three years for me to beat you,¡± he whispers, but I¡¯m not mad. Second ce is still good enough to get into Bornstead, and I only lost by a fraction of a percent. Besides, I always have next year to redeem myself.


    ¡°Third years get to skip the ceremony,¡± Zayd says, catching up to us. Creed, Wind, and Zack aren¡¯t far behind. Really, the whole school is here to see the roster, but they don¡¯t crowd forward. They know better: when Tristan Vanderbilt is front and center, pushing and shoving is not eptable. ¡°Should we head to theke now?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± I say as Miranda and Lizzie join us. We¡¯ve got other ns for the next few days, but we¡¯re going to at least stop by the beach house,


    and make an appearance. I just hope I don¡¯t have to see the Harpies or the Company boys anywhere near me.


    It feels like Harper¡¯s spirit¡¯s been broken, but I know she¡¯s just biding her time.


    Eventually, she¡¯s going to strike back, and it¡¯s not going to be pretty.


    For now though, I¡¯m just excited to have survived third year with my


    life, my grades, and my heart intact.

 219

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you beat me,¡± I groan, sitting in the driver¡¯s seat of my rose- gold Maserati with Windsor in the passenger seat, Creed behind me, and an empty spot where Miranda would be if she weren¡¯t making out with Jessie Maker in the back of Brianna Chow¡¯s yellow Mustang.


    Tristan leans on the driver¡¯s side door of the car with the most self- satisfied smirk I¡¯ve ever seen. Just looking at it makes me want to either punch him ¡­ or grab his face and kiss him until we both can¡¯t breathe.


    ¡°You¡¯re second in the ss, still a major aplishment,¡± he drawls, standing up straight and stretching his arms above his head. ¡°For a Working Girl, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Haha, very funny,¡± I say as I turn the key in the ignition and start up the engine. As third-years, it¡¯s our right to use the beach house at the Royal Pointe Lakeside Lodge. We¡¯re going to make an appearance, and then get the hell out of there. Tristan¡¯s family¡¯s main house-the Vanderbilt Manor- isn¡¯t too far from there, and his dad¡¯s overseas on business.


    He¡¯s invited us all to hang out there for a few days instead.


    Considering I almost died at Royal Pointest year, I¡¯m okay with skipping out after a few hours.


    Charlie¡¯s already okayed the trip, so I don¡¯t worry about that. What I do worry about is the fact that Lizzie¡¯s going to be there, too. As thest few weeks of the year rolled around, she started hanging out with him more and more, to the point that I struggled to find a moment of alone time.


    He leans in and brushes a smoldering kiss to my lips.


    ¡°Oh bloody hell, can we go already?¡± Windsor asks as Tristan steps back. Zayd¡¯s waiting next to his own car which is parked beside Zack¡¯s, waving at us as I grin and pull out of the parking spot, trying my best to avoid getting killed by the dozens of other students eager for their summer break. ¡°Finally. Thought you two might get hitched right on the spot.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please.¡± I roll my eyes, push my sunsses down, and head for the winding road that I remember fromst year. The Maserati hugs the curves just as well as Andrew¡¯s Lambo, and in just a few hours, we¡¯re pulling into the same parking lot where I was assaulted by the Company/Harpies. In my head, I¡¯ve started calling the boys the Company, and the girls the Harpies. Is that sexist? It¡¯s not meant to be.


    Trust me: I hate them all equally.


    We put the top up on the car, leave our luggage, and take the funicr- that weird ass elevator thing I was so disturbed byst year-down to the beach.


    The ¡®guest house¡¯ is no less impressive than the lodge, just slightly smaller. It has soaring ceilings, walls of windows, and several balconies with roaring firepits.


    We take up the topmost balcony, roasting smores, and drinking (alcohol only for those who aren¡¯t driving) and gather our new team of Bluebloods around us. It¡¯s hard to miss the Harpies watching us from the corner, the few Company boys they have left surrounding them.


    Tristan has done a damn good job of setting us up for next year.From N?velDrama.Org.


    Hopefully, I won¡¯t have to focus on bets, revenge, or forgiveness during fourth year. Frankly, I just want to spend my time in the arms of the elite, the five beautiful boys who have sopletely and utterly turned my world around that just the thought of choosing between them makes me sick.


    But, eventually, I¡¯ll have to.


    Because nobody in the real world has five boyfriends, particrly not when all five of them have familiar obligations or careers they have to uphold. Even if they didn¡¯t, no man wants to share a girl forever.


    I just try to enjoy whatever time I have left.


    ¡°Dance with me?¡± Zayd asks after he¡¯s down at least three smores. I take his hand and let him pull me into the house and the throbbing bass beat. People clear out of our way, and I can feel the envy in their gazes as I switch between Zayd and Creed, Zack and Windsor.


    Tristan stands aside and apart, sipping from a ss of what I hope is water and not vodka, his steely gaze focused on me. He seems almost ¡­ sad? But that can¡¯t be right. He just beat me for the first in three years. I tell myself it¡¯s because I took on too much with cheerleading and orchestra and tutoring, but ¡­ really, it¡¯s because Tristan¡¯s a worthy opponent.


    I take a break from dancing to stand beside him, hooking my arm around his the way I did in Paris, closing my eyes as I breathe in his peppermint and cinnamon scent. Clean and spicy at the same time.


    ¡°I wish I could bottle your smell,¡± I tell him, and that, at least, gets the tiniest quirk of lips.


    ¡°Mm. What would call it? Eau de Asshole?¡±


    ¡°I was thinking Silken PriFk FaFe. And the wholemercial would be about this naked guy wrapped in sulk, running through waves on a moonlit eve, while some weird voiceover whispers Silken PriFk over and over again.¡± This time, I get a fullugh out of Tristan, and I think it startles us both just a bit.


    We¡¯re quiet for a while, watching the crowd thin out as people-mostly couples-start disappearing up to their rooms, or down to the beach for the bonfire or the boats.


    ¡°Why did you sabotage my test?¡± I ask, because that question¡¯s been bugging me sincest year. ¡°I know now that you were trying to get me to drop out of Burberry, but ¡­ that¡¯s not like you. Even when you hated me, you knew I was a qualified opponent.¡±


    Tristan is silent for a while before he sighs and looks down at me. ¡°Sometimes we do things that we think are best, even if we know they¡¯re


    wrong. Harper had even worse things nned for your grades. All I did was redirect her. And then I told Zayd. Marnye, I¡¯ve never wanted to beat anyone at anything so badly as I wanted to win against you in grades.¡± I raise my eyebrows, but he¡¯s not done, setting his waiter ss on a side table, and turning to look at me. ¡°There have only ever been two settings in my life:pletely hopeless failure under my father¡¯s expectations, and ridiculous ease with the rest of the world. You challenge me, Marnye. You make me want to be better.¡±


    My eyes widen, but we¡¯re interrupted by Lizzie, pulling us both onto the dance floor for onest song before we hit the road again, off to Vanderbilt Manor, and a peek into Tristan¡¯s private life that I ne


    ver thought I¡¯d live to see.

 220

    ¡°Holy shit, it¡¯s Mount Olympus,¡± I breathe as I stand in front of the Vanderbilt Manor, all forty-thousand square feet of it. ording to Tristan, there are two art galleries, a ballroom, a winter garden, a library, a billiard room, a gun room, and ¡­ there are so many freaking rooms, I literally don¡¯t remember them all.


    ¡°Might as well be,¡± Zack snorts, ¡°because the people who live here think they¡¯re gods.¡±


    ¡°Oh, like you¡¯re any different, Brooks,¡± Tristan says, sweeping past and heading up the steps of the white stone manor. The staff greets him warmly which I find surprising. I figured Tristan was the type to treat those around him like ¡®the help¡¯. But he actually gives an older, silver-haired man a hug. A hug. How many times have I seen Tristan Vanderbilt hug anyone?


    We head into the main hall, and I¡¯m immediately overwhelmed by the amount of space and thevishness of the decor. There¡¯s a stack of papers on a table with a fresh floral bouquet that¡¯s as big as my car. Tristan grabs it and starts passing out maps.


    Literal maps. Of his house.


    Maybe, if you need to give people a map of your home, it¡¯s a little too big to begin with?


    ¡°Your rooms arebelled,¡± he exins, moving over to one of the walls to point out an inte. ¡°If you get lost, or need help finding something, just press the button on any of these and one of the staff can help you out.¡± He pauses for a minute as we all study the maps, taking note of our names scrawled onto the page. While it looks like there are plenty of guest rooms, he¡¯s ced us all on the upper level, in the east wing, near his personal bedroom.


    Lizzie bites her lip, and I look up, meeting her amber eyes.


    It hasn¡¯t escaped either of our notice that she¡¯s sharing a room with Andrew, while I¡¯ve got my own suite ¡­ right next to Tristan¡¯s.


    ¡°Come on, Charity,¡± Tristan says cheekily, ¡°I¡¯ll show you to your room.¡± He takes my arm and guides me to the right, through the east foyer and the


    banquet hall before we finally get to the stairs. The others follow along behind as we sweep up the curving staircase, and Tristan starts directing people to their rooms.


    The staff follows, loaded up with our bags. It makes me slightly ufortable, having other people wait on me, but now that I¡¯m upstairs and looking at the door to Tristan¡¯s bedroom, I forget all about it.


    ¡°Come,¡± he says, dragging me forward and into a sitting room, a study, and finally ¡­ his room.


    My eyes immediately go to the ck silk coverlet on the bed.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a room, this is a ¡­ wow, holy shit, Tristan.¡± He lets go of my arm and then sweeps over to a liquor cab, opening it up with a hidden key that he pulls out from beneath a potted nt. Once again, I¡¯m so struck by the casual way in which he pours alcohol from a ss decanter that I have to shake my head to clear it.


    ¡°You like it?¡± he asks, turning to look at me and offering up a ss.


    I look at it for a long, long while, and then shake my head no. Tristan simply smiles, and my back straightens as I hear Lizziee into the room like she¡¯s been here plenty of times before.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t changed a bit, has it?¡± she says, taking the alcohol from Tristan¡¯s hand and throwing it back in one go. She leans back against the wall in her denim short-shorts and suspenders, looking casual and cool in a way I¡¯m not sure that I ever will. I¡¯ve sort of just epted at this point that I¡¯m a little clumsy, a little awkward, and that¡¯s okay.


    ¡°William doesn¡¯t like change,¡± Tristan says, moving over to stand beside Lizzie. I watch them carefully as he leans over and opens the window, letting in the cool, night breeze. It¡¯s so quiet out here, I can¡¯t hear anything but the sounds of the household, a distant owl, and some rustling in the brush that could be a deer or a roon.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my asking,¡± I start, as Creed joins us next, pulling me into his arms and hugging me close. I shiver, wondering if he¡¯s going to sneak into my room and join me tonight. I¡¯d like that. I¡¯d like it quite a bit. Having only had sex with him twice, I¡¯m more than ready for more. ¡°How is it that your family¡¯s out of money? It looks like you¡¯re doing just fine to me.¡±


    Tristan¡¯s face gets tight as he stares out the window at the pregnant roundness of the moon.


    ¡°We have the house, and the yacht, the cars, the businesses ¡­ but no cash flow and too much debt. Even if he sold off everything we have, William wouldn¡¯t have enough to keep us out of the hole.¡± Tristan turns around and nods with his chin in the direction of the liquor cab. ¡°Help yourself, Cabot.¡±


    ¡°I always do,¡± Creed drawls, holding on tight to me.


    ¡°Someday soon, a debtor wille calling, all our assets will be seized, and ¡­¡± Tristan trails off, his eyes going cloudy, and then he just shakes his head, thatyer of haughty arrogance crashing over his face in a stone mask. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    The others filter in, and drinks are poured.


    We end up downstairs in the movie theater, sitting in a small cluster in the back row. This time, we put on a series of zombie movies, but everyone¡¯s too busy talking to pay much attention.


    Tristan, though, seems so far away, and I find that most of my attention is on him ¡­ and on the way Lizzie puts her hand over his, giving a small, private, little squeeze.


    She¡¯s going to make a move soon, I can feel it. But am I ready for it?


    Creed does slip into my room at night, and we spend hours worshipping each other¡¯s bodies. When I get up in the morning, he¡¯s still asleep, so I sneak out and down the stairs to find the kitchen.


    True to form, I get lost for about twenty minutes before I find my way into the breakfast room. Tristan¡¯s the only one in there, eating a te of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and sipping a cup of coffee. He doesn¡¯t look seventeen-nearly-eighteen right then, more like he¡¯s in histe twenties or early thirties. There¡¯s so much darkness inside of him.


    My hands clench in my robe, and I make my way into the room to sit beside him. He looks up briefly, and then reaches over and pulls me into hisp.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask, but he doesn¡¯t say anything. Instead, he tries to feed me a piece of bacon, which I, of course, ept. His fingers end up brushing my lips, and I shiver as I swallow.


    ¡°Fine,¡± h


    e says, but he sounds anything but.

 221

    We sit there for a while in silence, and I just enjoy the feel of him behind me. When I wiggle on hisp a bit, he goespletely still, one arm banding around my waist.


    ¡°Don¡¯t test me, Charity,¡± he whispers against my ear. ¡°I¡¯m not a very nice man.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯d like to personally test you and see if that¡¯s true?¡± I whisper back, shifting again. Tristan stands up suddenly, sending the chair scraping back, and then shoves his te onto the floor. I¡¯m pushed over the table with his hips aligned behind me, his hardness teasing my core.


    ¡°Like this?¡± he asks, and I feel this ache inside of me that says yes, exaFtly like that. But then Tristan¡¯s pulling away with a growl and raking his fingers through his dark hair. ¡°You¡¯re too good for me, Charity. You should run while you still can.¡±


    ¡°Stop that,¡± I murmur, pushing up into a standing position and turning to face him. ¡°You¡¯vee a long way in the past year.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a poison, Marnye. I kill everything I touch.¡± He lifts his fingers and stares at his hand for a moment before ncing over at me. ¡°Pick someone else, anyone else. They¡¯re all better choices than I am.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that that¡¯s true,¡± I say, panting, feeling this desperate need to take Tristan into my arms andfort him. When the hell did that happen?! He was always the worst bully of them all, the most closed-off, and now ¡­ I love this vulnerability. I¡¯m craving it.


    ¡°It¡¯s true. Stay the fuck away from me, and save yourself the heartache.¡±


    Tristan storms off, and the house is so big and convoluted that even with the map, I don¡¯t find him the rest of the day.


    Four days into my stay-and one night visit from Zack-I find an old game room with boardgames like Connect-Four, Scrabble, Monopoly, Clue, and so


    on. There must be hundreds of them. I select Twister from the shelves and head upstairs to see if I can find Tristan. He¡¯s been elusive and weird, and I¡¯ve caught him three times hanging out with just Lizzie.


    This time, when I step into his room, he¡¯s alone.


    He looks up at me, and his face is twisted into an expression of sheer frustration.


    ¡°There¡¯s an Infinity Club meeting being held here,¡± he says, and I pause, setting the game of Twister on a side table. ¡°In three days.¡±


    I move over and sit on the bed next to Tristan, our legs so close that I can feel his body heat through the ck fabric of his pajama pants. They¡¯re all that he¡¯s wearing. Otherwise, he¡¯s shirtless and beautiful, a modern day Adonis begging for my touch.


    Ahh, Marnye, stop! But I can¡¯t help it. I want to put my hands on, so ¡­ I do. Pulling up every ounce of courage I have inside of me, I stand up, face Tristan, and then straddle him so that my knees are on the bed on either side of his body.


    ¡°What does that mean, exactly?¡± I ask as I take his face in my hands and he closes his beautiful gray eyes.


    ¡°It means you and Miranda have to leave. It means my father¡¯sing home. It means ¡­¡± He stops talking and just rests his forehead against mine. After a moment, he lifts his thumb to my lips, and I take it into my mouth, sucking lightly.


    Tristan¡¯s breath hitches, and he drops his hand, curling his arms around my waist instead and rolling us over so that he¡¯s on top. We start to kiss, and I find that he¡¯s every bit as calcting and cruel in his ministrations as he is in his day to day to life.


    We¡¯ve kissed many times before, but not like this, alone in a quiet bedroom in a house with no academy faculty, no parents. It¡¯s uninhibited, and deliciously wrong.


    Tristan pins my arms above my head and kisses his way down my face toward my breasts, putting the hot heat of his mouth above the thin, silken fabric of my shirt. He licks the fabric, slow andnguorous, like he has all the time in the world, and then, when I¡¯m about to buck him off and beg him to stop teasing, he takes my left nipple into his mouth and sucks on it.


    It¡¯s like there¡¯s a string connected from my nipple to my core, pulling and tugging, begging for more.


    Tristan ends up with his mouth crashing into mine, hands frenzied as he tears at my clothes, ripping my shirt in his haste to feel a bare breast cupped in his palm. I¡¯m groaning and thrashing beneath him, my arms still pinned, want still coursing through me.


    What are you doing, Marnye? I ask myself, but I don¡¯t really know. I¡¯m not sure.


    Tristan¡¯s hips grind against me, the hard, hot length of him teasing me through my shorts. His breathing picks up pace, and then he¡¯s using his left hand to push his pants down. He shoves my shorts aside, and in an instant, I can feel the tip of him pressing against me.


    He looks down at with a de gray gaze, his right hand still holding my wrists pinned above my head. My bare breasts rise and fall with each breath, but I don¡¯t say a thing. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m tongue-tied.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I want you so bad, Marnye,¡± he says, and I groan, rubbing against him. He closes his eyes like he¡¯s in pain. One hard thrust of his hips, and we¡¯d be joined together. Instead, he opens his eyes and just looks at me again. ¡°I want to fuck you until you can¡¯t remember you¡¯re dating anyone else, take you sopletely that you be mine.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± I whisper, and Tristan curses, pulling away from me and yanking his pants into ce as I sit up. ¡°Tristan, wait.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this. I can¡¯t fucking do this, Marnye.¡± He heads into the bathroom, ms the door, and then turns on the shower. I only stay so long as it takes me to fix my clothes.


    On the day of the Infinity Club meeting, everyone¡¯s in a nervous titter. I know we all have to leave by two at thetest, but before I go, before I head off into the sunset to spend an entire summer away from Tristan Vanderbilt, I have to see him again.


    He¡¯s in his room yet again, sitting on his bed in a ck t-shirt and jeans, staring at his phone. He scowls at me when I walk in.


    ¡°Stop that,¡± I say, but he turns away, and rakes his fingers through his hair.


    ¡°Believe me: you don¡¯t want to be here when William arrives. He punches his own son. Imagine all the things he might do to a charity case from the wrong side of the tracks.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t push me away,¡± I tell him, grabbing the game of Twister and moving over to therge empty space of floor on the right side of his bed. ¡°No matter what you do, it won¡¯t work. I¡¯ve seen the real you, and that¡¯s not something that can be undone.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like me. You can¡¯t possibly,¡± he scoffs, sounding a lot like Creed did the first night we ¡­


    ¡°Why? Because you¡¯re fiercely loyal, sharp as a tack, and the only person I know who can keep up with me on an academic level? Or maybe it¡¯s because you have hair like a raven¡¯s feathers, eyes the color of the moon on a cold night, or abs so hard they could probably crack nuts?¡±


    ¡°Crack nuts?¡± he echoes, and I grin as Iy out the stic sheet with all the colored circles on it.


    ¡°Yeah, like, stick a walnut between your abs, flex, and vo. Nutcracker abs.¡± Tristan exhales, like maybe he¡¯s just too stressed tough. No problem. I am, too. All I can think about is him on top of me, the tip of him pressed into my core, and the amount of self-control that must have taken him to pull away.


    ¡°What the hell is this you¡¯re putting on my floor,¡± he asks as I hand him in the spinner and kick off my shoes. I¡¯m wearing a cream-colored satin dress that Miranda insisted I try on, so not ideal for the game, but man, Trist


    an Vanderbilt needs to loosen up a little.

 222

    ¡°It¡¯s called a game. Ever y one of those before?¡± I tap my finger on the spinner. ¡°We can even make a bet out of it. If I win, you have to keep dating me until either you or I decide we don¡¯t like each other. If you win, you can decide whether or not to keep dating me, regardless of reason.¡±


    Tristan narrows his eyes and tosses the spinner on the bed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this. My dad¡¯s going to be here in less than an hour.


    You need to go.¡±Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving until you y with me. It¡¯s a quick game. Easy, too. Or are you afraid I¡¯m going to kick your ass?¡± I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down.


    ¡°I can always pick you up, carry you out of my room, and lock the door.¡± ¡°Yeah, but that wouldn¡¯t be any fun, now would it?¡± I ask, and Tristan


    scowls.


    ¡°Fine.¡± He flicks the spinner with his finger and ends up with an arrow pointed towards the red part of the circle, and in the fourth of the board that indicates the foot. ¡°Now what?¡±


    ¡°Right foot on red,¡± I tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. I show him what to do, and then grab the spinner. In a normal game, there¡¯d be a referee to spin for us and call out the moves, but I¡¯m always willing to improvise. ¡°Right hand yellow.¡±


    I squat and put my hand on one of the colored dots, and Tristan rolls his eyes.


    ¡°This is a stupid game. How do you even win?¡±


    ¡°First person to fall over or fail toplete their move is the loser,¡± I say with a sniff. ¡°When neither of us is able to spin, we¡¯ll take turns calling out a color or a body part for each other¡¯s move.¡± I hand him the spinner and he gets left hand blue, very purposely leaning over me to ce his palm on a spot.


    We keep going until we¡¯re both tangled up, and neither of us can touch the damn spinner.


    ¡°Red,¡± he says, and I lick my lips, looking around strategically.


    ¡°Right hand,¡± I add, and Tristan struggles to make it work. We look like we¡¯re doing advanced yoga this point. ¡°Yellow,¡± I say, choosing my own color.


    ¡°Breast,¡± he whispers, and I chuckle, almost losing my bnce.


    ¡°That is not a body part,¡± I choke, and I can feel him quivering above me, struggling to hold his post.


    ¡°Damn right it is,¡± he growls, and I shrug. Because it¡¯s easier to just lean down and touch my boob to the map, I do it. ¡°Dick.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your body part choice?¡± I ask, and he grunts. ¡°Fine ¡­ uh, green.¡±


    Tristan adjusts himself, putting his crotch on the mat, so that we¡¯re pretty much face to face. He looks at me, and I just startughing. It¡¯s so bad that I actually fall, and end up in a heap on the floor. Tristan sits down beside me, panting and sweating, and then takes off his shirt, tossing it aside.


    ¡°You lose the bet,¡± he says, but he doesn¡¯t sound all that happy about winning. ¡°Want to y again? All or nothing?¡± I nod and push up, finding his gaze on me. He reaches out with his fingers, brushing them along my jaw, and I sigh.


    Tristan pulls back before anything can happen, and we start all over again. This time, we just call out body parts and colors from the very beginning.


    Within minutes, we¡¯re face to face, mouth to mouth. And the kiss we share in that moment ¡­ is the truest we¡¯ve ever had. We move over to the bed, kissing slowly, hands roaming over one another¡¯s bodies, but it onlysts as long as the rm on Tristan¡¯s phone.


    When it goes off, he groans and pushes me over to lie next to him. ¡°William will be here any minute. You really need to get the hell out of


    here.¡±


    His gaze is like iFe, but his fingers feel like fire, I think as we look at each other.


    I lift my hands up to hide my face, but Tristan isn¡¯t having any of it. He pulls them down, and he gives me this private, little grin that I can¡¯t help but return. We¡¯re still lying there and smiling at each other like lovestruck idiots when Lizzie opens the door and walks in.


    ¡°Shit, I thought that was locked.¡± Tristan sits up and slides his fingers through his mussy, raven-dark hair. He looks almost ¡­ cute. That is, if Tristan Vanderbilt is even capable of cute. Sure, he¡¯s one of the hottest guys I¡¯ve ever seen, but I¡¯m not sure the word cute is the right adjective.


    My mind is wandering, so I put the brakes on and make myself look at Lizzie¡¯s face instead. She¡¯s freaking shattered right now. Guilt surges through me, as ufortable as a punch to the gut. This isn¡¯t what I wanted to happen. She probably thinks we were having sex. But no. All we did was y Twister and then make out.


    Although, putting it that way, it sounds almost as bad.


    ¡°The guests are arriving.¡± Lizzie stares at us, and I can¡¯t help but feel empathy for her. What if I¡¯d walked in on this situation? I would be beyond upset. My empathy res to life, and my stomach churns. ¡°William is furious; he¡¯s looking for you.¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s furious.¡± Tristan scowls, and slides his hand over his sweaty face. ¡°I¡¯m not just a bastard anymore; I¡¯m an embarrassment.¡±


    Lizzie pulls the door closed and then leans her back against it, locking eyes with Tristan.


    Even though I have four other boyfriends downstairs, even though sometime in the future I¡¯ll have to choose, I don¡¯t want to lose Tristan now.


    ¡°What?¡± he asks her, his body stuff, muscles taut with stress.


    Lizzie closes her eyes, and then carefully twists off her engagement ring. She opens them again and her irises are painted with the brilliant colors of emotion: love, and want, and desperate need.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen if I tell my parents no,¡± Lizzie says, staring down at the ring. ¡°I think they love me enough to get over it, but ¡­


    I can¡¯t do it. I can¡¯t marry Marcel.¡±

 223

    Rising to my feet, I slide my palms down the front of my cream-colored dress to get out the wrinkles. No point though. Lizzie isn¡¯t looking at me; the only person in this house that exists for her right now, the only person that matters, is Tristan. Amber eyes bright with determination, Lizzie takes a small step forward.


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± Tristan asks, standing up and grabbing his shirt. He puts it on and then looks at her with an expression that¡¯s equal parts frustration and confusion. ¡°My dad¡¯s on the warpath. He doesn¡¯t like you, and he doesn¡¯t like Marnye, and he doesn¡¯t want the entire board of directors for the Infinity Club waltzing into our house to pass judgment.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the Infinity Club right now,¡± Lizzie blurts, and my heart begins to thunder in my chest, echoing the throbbing pulse point I can see beating in her throat. She moves toward Tristan again, but he doesn¡¯t return the favor. ¡°All I care about is you, Tristan. I love you.¡±


    There¡¯s nothing but pure, unadulterated truth in her words. It¡¯s no surprise to me though: I¡¯ve expected as much since I firstid eyes on her.


    The logical thing to do would be to let Tristan go, push him and Lizzie together, and focus on the four other guys that are waiting downstairs for me. The thing is, the heart doesn¡¯t use logic to make its decision. Even now, I¡¯m dreading that future moment where I¡¯ll have to pick a boy, where I¡¯ll have to choose.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    If Lizzie and Tristan are meant to be together, it¡¯ll happen. I won¡¯t do anything for or against it.


    I bite my lower lip.


    Lizzie¡¯s a good friend, but Tristan ¡­ he makes my blood sing.


    ¡°I-¡± They both look at me as that one, single word escapes my lips. The thing is, once I stop talking, I can¡¯t figure out what I was meant to say in the first ce.


    Fortunately, Windsor is there to save my ass yet again. He waltzes in the door, the very picture of nonchnce, all dressed up nice and neat in his third year uniform. It¡¯s obvious he couldn¡¯t care less about the uing Infinity Club meeting.


    ¡°William Vanderbilt¡¯s a clever man, isn¡¯t he?¡± he says, giving me a small, little smile.


    ¡°How so?¡± Tristan asks, sighing, and ignoring Lizzie¡¯s entire confession. ¡°What has he done now?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s found someone to pay his Infinity Club dues.¡± Windsor watches Tristan¡¯s face as he clenches his jaw. ¡°Not yours though. Just his. He¡¯s already started the rumor that he¡¯s disowning you.¡±


    Tristan pretends not to care, but there¡¯s the slightest hint of his eyes widening.


    ¡°I see.¡± He keeps his voice calm, but there¡¯s obvious pain resting behind his words. All I want to do isfort him, but Lizzie beats me to it, reaching out for him. Tristan pulls away, and her face shes with hurt.


    ¡°I¡¯ve paid it for you,¡± Windsor tells him, and this time, I think we¡¯re all surprised. Tristan stares at the prince with wide, gray eyes, but Wind simply tucks his hands into his pockets and grins. ¡°Whatever my princess wants, she gets. And she doesn¡¯t want you homeless and kicked out of Burberry Prep.¡± Windsor steps forward and smooths some wrinkles from Tristan¡¯s shirt with his palms. ¡°He pulled your tuition, too. But you already knew that, right?¡±


    I gape at that news, ncing over at Tristan. He, on the other hand, doesn¡¯t seem surprised by that at all.


    ¡°You knew you weren¡¯ting back to Burberry next year, didn¡¯t you?¡± I ask, but Tristan simply stares at Windsor, waiting for more. With the prince, there¡¯s always more.


    ¡°I¡¯ve paid that, too. So ¡­ I guess Marnye isn¡¯t the only charity case at the academy, now is she?¡± Wind grins, and there¡¯s a terrifying edge to it, like he¡¯s enjoying this moment for all the wrong reasons. Still, he did it for me. I won¡¯t forget that. ¡°You can thank meter. For now, we have a Club meeting to attend.¡±


    Without a word, Tristan turns and leaves the room, mming the bathroom door behind him.


    ¡°You, mdy, will have to go. Miranda¡¯s waiting outside for you. No non- Club members allowed.¡± Windsor steps forward and brushes some red hair off his forehead. His hazel eyes shimmer with mischief as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in my rose-gold locks.


    ¡°You¡¯ll take care of Zayd, Creed, and Zack for me, right?¡± I ask, not because I think they really need the help, but because I¡¯m starting to look at Windsor like my righthand man. If some unforeseen circumstancese up, I know he¡¯s good at thinking on his feet. ¡°You¡¯ve already taken care of Tristan.¡±


    I nce at Lizzie, but she¡¯s in the process of storming off, her head in her hand. I don¡¯t me her for being upset; I would be, too.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of them,¡± Windsor promises, taking me in his arms and kissing the corners of my mouth. He¡¯s teasing me, like he always does, making me want more. ¡°Miranda says she already called your dad, and he said it was fine if she crashed at your ce for a few days.¡±


    ¡°And after that?¡± How long an Infinity Club partysts, I have no idea. ¡°After that ¡­¡± Windsor starts, just as Zayd, Creed, and Zacke into


    the room.


    ¡°Time to skedaddle, babe,¡± Zayd tells me, wringing his tattooed hands in nervousness. I don¡¯t like that, seeing someone as carefree as him get nervous. Fuck the Infinity Club and everything it stands for. It¡¯s just an excuse for rich bullies to pick on the less fortunate, and call it a game.


    ¡°There¡¯s a side entrance,¡± Creed tells me, slouchingzily against the doorjamb. He¡¯s got that sharpness in his eyes that says he¡¯s ready to fight if need be. ¡°Through the ballroom. I¡¯ll show you. I had Miranda move your car.¡±


    Zack puts his letterman jacket on my shoulders and presses a kiss to my cheek, his full mouth pursed tight, eyes dancing with dark shadows. He¡¯s about as happy about this whole situation as I am.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything I wouldn¡¯t do,¡± I tell them, taking onest look out Tristan¡¯s front window to find Harper climbing from her car. Great. I exhale sharply, and turn toward the door to follow after Creed.


    ¡°Drive safe, Marnye,¡± Zack whispers as I pass by, and I give onest wave before retreating to my room to pick up my bags.


    This whole situation feels dramatic, but I know it¡¯s just another summer for us academy kids.


    Today, we¡¯re plotting intrigue. Last week, we meted out vengeance.


    Tomorrow, we¡¯ll probably go to the beach.


    One year, one choice, one improbable future.


    Who knew that being the


    new girl would be so damn difficult.

 224

    The drive home is peaceful, just winding roads and hillside and sunshine. The ocean sparkles on our left as we take the coastal route back to Cruz Bay and Charlie¡¯s tiny rental house on the edge of the exclusive Grenadine Heights neighborhood.


    Miranda and I don¡¯t talk much, not until we¡¯re nearly home.


    ¡°What happened?¡± she asks, and I raise an eyebrow, ncing over at her briefly before I look back at the road. I might be an overly cautious driver, but better than a reckless one, right?


    ¡°Happened?¡± I ask, and she sighs, leaning back in her seat with her white- blond hair whipping all over the ce. She¡¯s got big, shiny silver shades on, and she lifts them to re at me with her icy blue eyes.


    ¡°Yes, happened. Between you and Tristan. You disappeared upstairs, and we couldn¡¯t find you.¡±


    My cheeks flush with heat, and I know what she¡¯s thinking. Of course she¡¯d assume we were having sex. But with Tristan, sex is normal. Easy. It¡¯s a way for him to express emotion without actually having toe to terms with any of it. No, that¡¯s not what we did.


    ¡°We yed Twister, and then kissed, and cuddled.¡± Mirandaughs, but only for a second. Then she realizes I¡¯m serious and gapes at me, her lips shiny with pink gloss. Bits of her hair get stuck in it as we take the exit into Cruz Bay.


    ¡°You cuddled?¡± she asks, and I nod. She makes this half-whine, half-groan sound. ¡°You¡¯re totally picking him, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not picking anyone just yet,¡± I murmur as we slow down and it gets a little easier to chat without all that wind in our faces. ¡°I slept with your brother, but you¡¯re worried about a game of Twister?¡±


    ¡°Uh, duh. Sex is ¡­ just sex. But someone you can hang all afternoon with and not realize how much time has passed? Someone you can have a good time with? Someone you can-gag me with a spoon-snuggle? That¡¯s real stuff right there.¡±


    I don¡¯t respond, pulling into the driveway and mulling that information over in my mind.


    It¡¯s not until I climb out that I realize there¡¯s a cream-colored Cadic parked on the street.


    Jennifer is here.


    ¡°Mommy troubles?¡± Miranda asks, as I purse my lips and nod, grabbing my bags from the back of the convertible and heading inside. It¡¯s so bright and sunny out that I have to squint when I step into the living room, Miranda on my heels.


    As soon as I see what¡¯s waiting for, Ie to aplete halt, and my best friend-turned crush-turned best friend again bumps into my back.


    ¡°What the-¡± she starts, and then stops as she looks between me, and the teenaged girl that looks just like me sitting on the couch between Jennifer and Charlie. He¡¯s got tears in his eyes as he looks up at me, and Jennifer ¡­ she¡¯s got a big, round belly, and a smile.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± she says, rising to her feet with considerable effort. She groans and has to put a hand out to steady herself. Dad is up in an instant to support her, looking a little wobbly himself. I feel this sick, dark shadow inside of me that whispers about how much worse he looks from when Ist saw him, how much weight he¡¯s lost. Shit. Jennifer waves him off and then there¡¯s this awkward moment of quiet where we just stare at each other. ¡°Marnye, I¡¯d like you to meet your younger sister, Isabe Carmichael.¡±


    My heart turns to ice, plummets into my stomach, and breaks into a million little pieces.


    My brown eyes lock on Isabe¡¯s, and the way she smiles at me ¡­ reminds me of something. It takes me a second to register what, exactly, that is, but as soon as I do, I feel cold on the inside.


    Her smile ¡­ it reminds me of the filthy rich girls I already know and hate.


    Fan-freaking-tastic


    .


    To Be Continued ¡­


    Choose between the rich boys.


    I¡¯d rather face the Harpies than make that choice.


    How can my four years at Burberry Prep really being to an end?


    No, Tristan, Zayd, Creed, Zack, and Windsor are everything to me right now.


    My strength, my passion, my heart, my empathy, my joy.


    Love is a cruel master, but I have no one to me for this but myself.


    ***


    We fell in love with the charity case.


    Idols of the school, the kings of the campus, and we¡¯re nothing without her.


    Marnye Elizabeth Reed.


    This girl has twisted our world upside down, but the Infinity Club is about to knock us all on our asses.


    Big money, political ties, family bonds, obligations: shit is going down at the academy.


    The rest of our lives, the rest of her life ¡­ it alles down


    to this one, final moment.


    My graduation gown-and my heart-are in tatters.


    I can barely breathe as the uniformed officer nearest me grabs my elbow. ¡°Miss?¡± he asks, and I blink stupidly in his direction, still reeling from the


    shock. He ¡­ he went to get the car, I tell myself, hands shaking. I reach up with one and grab my cap off my head, the red and ck Burberry Prep tassel smearing blood across the back of my hand.


    ¡°She¡¯s in shock.¡± Someone else is talking, but I¡¯m not sure who. All I can think is: will he live? I¡¯m pretty sure I already know the answer to that question, but I don¡¯t want to believe it. I can¡¯t. I just can¡¯t. Hands haul me to my feet, and I can hear voices talking around me, but all I care about is getting to the hospital.


    ¡°¡­ just her, I¡¯m afraid, but we¡¯ll take good care of her,¡± the officer says, and then I¡¯m shuffling over to a police cruiser. I shake my head to clear it and look back at the boys, the ones who are still by my side. Someone ¡­ seems to be missing, but then I remind myself again that he just went to get the car.


    I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sure I make no sense. I just ¡­ I¡¯m in shock right now.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I ask as the officer opens the back door for me. ¡°We can get you to the hospital with the sirens,¡± the man says, and I nod


    because that makes sense, even to my addled brain.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be right behind you,¡± one of the guys holding onto me says, his grip tight but firm. ¡°Right behind you.¡±Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I¡¯ve just taken the veryst lick of my revenge, put the final nail in the coffin. I¡¯ve made peace with the decision of which boy I should choose, and yet, I¡¯ve never been so miserable. I¡¯ve never hurt so much. How could this happen to me? It¡¯s so much worse than what I suffered during first year. So, so, so much worse.


    A cosmic joke.


    A middle finger from the universe.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be right behind me ¡­¡± I breathe, and then I slip into the backseat of the cruiser. The red and blue of the sirens flickers across the faces of the crowd, including the boys I just left behind. I wish one of them were in here with me.


    We take off down the road as I reach into my pocket for my phone. The thing is, there¡¯s a hole in my pocket and my damn cell is missing. Of course it is.


    Fuck.


    The nearest hospital is ¡­ God, it¡¯s like an hour from here, isn¡¯t it? I almost throw up, leaning over and putting my head between my knees until I get control of my breathing. I¡¯ll wait awhile, and then I¡¯ll ask the officer to call the hospital for me.


    Leaning my head against the cool ss of the window, I close my eyes against the trees as they whir by in a blur. The shock must really be getting to me because, I swear, I lose time there for a moment. When I open my eyes and sit up, I realize that we¡¯re heading in the wrong direction.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the hospital due west from here?¡± I ask, looking around and realizing that we¡¯re closer to the casino than we are the hospital. What the hell? The sirens aren¡¯t on anymore either, which is weird.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get you there, don¡¯t worry,¡± the officer in the passenger seat says, but he doesn¡¯t turn around to look at me. The longer we drive, the more concerned I get.


    And then we pull into the casino parking lot, and my heart starts to beat so fast I feel like I might pass out.


    ¡°What are we doing here?¡± I choke out, looking around as we pull into the gravel parking lot, and the officers climb out. They don¡¯t answer me as they


    open the back door, and then I¡¯m dragged forcefully from the back seat and thrown unceremoniously to the gravel.


    My hands skid across it, tiny rocks embedding themselves into my flesh as I look over my shoulder just in time to see the officers climb back in their car and take off.


    They¡¯ve left me here, at an abandoned casino in the middle of a Native American reservation. It¡¯s bordered by national and state parks on all sides, just trees and nothing else for miles. I push up to my knees just as I hear the scuffle of feet on gravel, turning to look in the direction of the sound.


    And there she is, Harper du Pont with John Hannibal and Gregory Van Horn on either side of her.


    ¡°Hello, Marnye Reed,¡± she says, her lips curving up into a smile. John has a baseball bat, and Greg is holding a coil of rope.


    This isn¡¯t good. This isn¡¯t good at all.


    I scramble to get to my feet, backing up as Harper strides forward like she owns the ce.


    ¡°Infinity Club rules,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°Your friends did a nice job of making sure we couldn¡¯t hire out your punishment. Marnye Elizabeth Reed can only suffer at the hands of a student ¡­¡± She trails off with a sigh, tossing some of her bloodred extensions over one shoulder. ¡°And so suffer at the hands of a student, she shall.¡± Harper gestures at me with her chin, and Greg and John take off toward me.


    I surprise them by running straight at and between them, taking off for the casino with my torn, ck graduation gown billowing behind me. My wrist throbs from when I fell off the dais during the ceremony, and there¡¯s blood dripping from my palm, both from the parking lot gravel, and from when I caught it on the edge of Ms. Felton¡¯s chair.


    There is no way in hell I¡¯m letting the Infinity Club win, not when I¡¯m so close. So freaking close.


    I take off around the corner, and up the steps, through the back door ¡­ Only to run into the rest of the Bluebloods.


    And when I say Bluebloods, I mean the original Bluebloods, the ones from my list.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Tristan says, turning around to look at me. He smiles, and my heart turns to ice and shatters in my chest.


    I refuse to believe it. I refuse.


    He looks me dead in the eye and says just one word. ¡°Run.¡±


    I don¡¯t hesitate for even half a second before I do. You think you know how this story ends.


    You


    don¡¯t.


    You don¡¯t know anything just yet.

 225

    ¡°She¡¯s the devil,¡± I whisper, sitting down hard on the edge of my bed. I¡¯m wearing white footie pajamas with ducks on them, but don¡¯t judge: they were a gift from Charlie, and I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell him I was ten years too old for them.


    ¡°Who?¡± Miranda asks, pausing and turning to look at me, her luxurious white-blonde hair hanging over her shoulder. She strokes it gently with the brush, watching me with eyes the color of ice chips in a stormy sea. ¡°Oh, you mean your sister? Don¡¯t worry too much about her. My brother¡¯s a dickhead, and I still manage to put up with him.¡±


    I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, trying not to stress too much about the boys and their whereabouts. It¡¯s been almost a week since we left them at the Vanderbilt Manor and in the hands of the Infinity Club. If Windsor hadn¡¯t texted to let me know everyone was okay, I¡¯d think they were all like, dead or something.


    ¡°Your brother¡¯s a kitten in a tiger suit,¡± I tell her, sitting up and dropping my hands to myp. ¡°That girl, Isabe Carmichael, she reminds me of Harper.¡±


    Miranda shivers and sets the brush down, turning fully in the chair to face me, a slight smile working its way onto her full lips. She really is the female version of Creed, his feminine other half. Ugh, I miss Creed. I miss all the boys actually. And that scares me.


    They¡¯re all dating me together because they feel bad, because they know they messed up, but I can¡¯t ask that of them forever. Eventually, I¡¯ll have to choose. It¡¯s not fair to them if I don¡¯t, right?


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t the warmest character, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± Miranda hedges, chewing on her lower lip. While I¡¯m dressed in ridiculous nnel pj¡¯s, the Cabot twin is decked out in a short, pink satin nightie. I¡¯ll admit it: I¡¯m a little jealous. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t worry about her. Her or Harper. I¡¯ve got your back; we¡¯ll kick both their asses next year.¡±


    She stands up and moves over to sit on the edge of the bed next to me, reaching out to put my face between her hands. I swear, she smells like strawberries and vani. It¡¯sforting somehow.


    ¡°One year left, and we¡¯ll leave all these fuckers in the dust. Just one more year.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± I ask, feeling this strange pang inside my chest. When I first arrived at Burberry Preparatory Academy, I was excited for the years toe. Soon after, that excitement turned to dread. Then it became a mission of survival, a matter of principle.


    Now ¡­ I can¡¯t imagine it all being over. I¡¯m not ready for it to end. Not


    yet.


    ¡°Then Creed and I will follow you to Bornstead and bug the shit out of you for four more years! Maybe six or more if we go for a master¡¯s or a doctorate.¡± Miranda pauses as I raise both brows. I think my mouth¡¯s hanging slightly open.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to Bornstead?¡± I ask, trying not to get too excited. Nothing¡¯s final until, you know, it¡¯s final. But still. How could Miranda or Creed be denied? Their mother, Kathleen, went to Bornstead.


    ¡°Of course I am,¡± she replies, letting go of my face and standing up. ¡°Not only is Bornstead my mother¡¯s alma mater, but my best friend is going there. That, and my twin is attached to my best friend¡¯s hip. Really, is there any other choice?¡± She stands up and opens my bedroom door, letting in the raucous rumble of my dad¡¯s snoring. ¡°Let¡¯s go make midnight margaritas.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no alcohol in this house,¡± I murmur, but I follow after her anyway, the tight, angsty feeling in my chest twisting painfully. Miranda¡¯s going to Bornstead. So is Creed. And as far as I know, Zayd is, too. What if I end up picking someone else? What if I don¡¯t pick at all? What if breaks my


    heart in half and spills all my blood to the parched earth if I have to make that choice?


    ¡°We should get dressed and go out,¡± Miranda whispers as she systematically goes through the fridge and all the cabs. ¡°Go to a bar or something. I have fake IDs for us both in my bag.¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest as she turns around and notices my raised brow and hard stare.


    ¡°Fake IDs, seriously?¡± Miranda shrugs and grins.


    ¡°Briana Chow was selling them cheap at the end of the year, and I grabbed some for the whole crew, just in case we wanted to go out.¡±


    ¡°Briana was selling fake IDs?¡± I ask, crinkling up my brow and trying to understand why a person as rich as her would even bother going through the trouble. Miranda waves my question away.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yep. And they¡¯re good quality, too. Her mom owns a publishing house and a printing shop, and they have all sorts of fun machines in the factory.¡± Miranda grabs a cluster of grapes from the bowl on the table and pops one juicy purple orb into her mouth. ¡°Did you know her dad¡¯s into organized crime? I mean, that¡¯s the rumor anyway. I bet they use the printing press to forge all sorts of documents.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re totally getting sidetracked,¡± I say, padding over to the table to get some grapes for myself. ¡°And you know I don¡¯t drink. Although I guess it might be fun to go out and dance ¡­¡±


    ¡°The boys should be back soon, and we can start our college partying early. Well, you, me, Andrew and your many boyfriends. Lizzie is not invited.¡±


    I cringe slightly, my mind going right back to Tristan¡¯s room, and Lizzie¡¯s bright amber eyes, the determined set of her face. ¡°All I care about is you, Tristan. I love you.¡± My stomach feels sour all of a sudden, and I have to mp a hand over it to calm the rumbling.


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have told Miranda about Lizzie¡¯s confession? Then again, I hate secrets. They¡¯re like splinters. If you just pull them out right away, the pain is minimal. Leave them buried and they get infected. Leave them long enough and you have to cut the skin to stop the pain. No thank you.


    ¡°Is there really nothing else going on between you and Lizzie that I should know about?¡± I ask, but Miranda¡¯s already breezing past me, grabbing my hand and dragging me back into the bedroom. She bends over to dig around in her bag and shes me thecy panties she¡¯s got on. I look away and wait for her to stand up and spin, fanning out several fake driver¡¯s licenses.


    Reaching out, I take them into my hand and go through them quickly.


    There¡¯s mine, Miranda¡¯s, Andrew¡¯s, and one for each of my boyfriends.


    My boyfriends. Plural.


    My heart flutters, and I tuck the cluster of stic cards to my chest.


    Even though it¡¯s been a week since we left Vanderbilt Manor, my mind is still roiling with all of the craziness that happened there. The least of which is that you and Tristan almost had unprotected sex ¡­ My cheeks flush red as Miranda moves over to the closet and pulls out a pair of expensive designer d


    resses, tossing them onto the bed.

 226

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to answer my question about Lizzie, are you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing left for me to say.¡± She turns back around and watches me with those disturbingly beautiful eyes of hers. ¡°I¡¯ve already said my piece: the girl is a snake in the grass. Get a fuckingwnmower, Marnye.¡± Miranda huffs, and then reaches up to shake out her glorious blond hair. ¡°She knows you¡¯re in love with Tristan-¡±


    ¡°I never said love,¡± I choke out, but Miranda ignores me.


    ¡°She knows you¡¯re head over heels for that asshole, and yet here shees with a love confession several years toote? If you want my opinion, she¡¯s a vulture picking at the carrion of a rtionship long past its expiration date. Bet she¡¯s a spy for the Harpies.¡±


    ¡°She ¡­¡± I start, but then I have no idea what else to say. There hasn¡¯t been a single text from Lizzie since, but I¡¯m not surprised. Windsor¡¯s the only one who¡¯s been able to text me, and even then, it was one, short cryptic message. Everything¡¯s okay. We¡¯re all okay. Miss you. ¡°If she really does love him, it¡¯s better she says it now. I mean, if he wants to be with her then ¡­¡± My voice trails off, and my stomach twists into the shape of an infinity symbol. Obviously, I can¡¯t see it, but that¡¯s what it feels like. Ugh.


    ¡°He does not want to be with her,¡± Miranda says, lifting up the two dresses and then holding one over me, and then the other. She switches back and forth a few times, and then shakes her head, returning both to the closet.


    ¡°He¡¯s seriously obsessed with you. They all are. Still, I¡¯m #TeamCreed, sooo


    ¡­¡±


    I move past her and grab one of the dresses from the closet.


    It¡¯s the ck one Tristan gave me during first year, the one I was supposed to wear to the graduation g. Even though I¡¯ve had it all this time, I¡¯ve never worn it. I didn¡¯t want to upset anybody. But since none of the guys are here ¡­


    ¡°I know this ce that does live salsa music and dancing,¡± I tell Miranda, and she grins. Maybe if I spend the evening dancing, I can sweat out some of this angst and worry?


    Maybe.


    We finish getting ready, and I let Miranda do my hair and makeup before we slip out and take off in my rose-gold Maserati to dance the night away.


    What I don¡¯t expect is to see Isabe Carmichael inside the same nightclub.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t she, like, fifteen?¡± I whisper to Miranda, feeling my heart pick up speed. I¡¯m suddenly sweaty and nervous, standing there in a dress that costs more than a month of my father¡¯s sry. From across the room, Isabe¡¯s brown eyestch onto mine, and she smiles.


    It¡¯s not a very happy sort of smile.


    ¡°Um, maybe, if she¡¯s got ate birthday like we do,¡± Miranda starts, resting her tongue at the edge of her mouth. It¡¯s a move she does when she¡¯s getting ready to go off on someone. ¡°Probably more like fourteen.¡±


    ¡°Marissa, right?¡± the girl asks, separating from her group of friends and pausing in front of me. She¡¯s tall and very pretty, but there¡¯s just something about her that puts me on edge. Maybe it¡¯s thatyer of privilege and entitlement that I¡¯m not vibing with?


    ¡°Marissa, right?¡± Miranda mimics, giving the girl a pair of raised brows. ¡°Seriously? It¡¯s fucking Marnye. You¡¯re talking to your sister here.¡±


    ¡°Half-sister,¡± Isabe says, turning a cool re on Miranda. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±


    Wow.


    That escted quickly.


    ¡°Miranda Cabot.¡± Miranda¡¯s lips curve up into a smile as Isabe blinks several times in surprise. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve heard of me? If you¡¯reing to


    Burberry Prep next year, you might want to treat your sister with a little more respect. She¡¯s an Idol, after all.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I hear,¡± Isabe says, her face neutral and impassive, but with the slightest underlying hint of menace. Damn. I waited fourteen years to meet this girl, and it looks like being sisters is sort of thest thing on her mind. ¡°Harper du Pont, Becky tter, and Ileana Taittinger are the Idols. You¡¯re ¡­ the boys¡¯ pet, as far as I can tell.¡±


    Miranda steps forward like she¡¯s going to beat the girl up, but I put my hand out to stop her, putting a sad smile on my face that¡¯s built of crumpled wishes and selfish desires. I always wanted to meet my sister, longed for another family member besides Dad who¡¯d love me the way Jennifer never did.


    That¡¯s not going to happen here, and that¡¯s okay.


    I¡¯vee a long way from the sad, lonely person I was in junior high.


    ¡°I am nobody¡¯s pet,¡± I tell her, my voice stern. I know when she looks at me, she can see it, too. And it¡¯s not because Miranda put cute, loose curls in my rose-gold hair. It¡¯s not the designer dress. It¡¯s not even the expensive ne hanging between my breasts. It¡¯s alling from the inside. ¡°And I am a Blueblood. We don¡¯t tolerate bullying at Burberry Prep, not anymore. I won¡¯t put up with it.¡±


    Isabe opens her mouth, closes it, huffs. Her brown eyes, as familiar as the ones in my reflection, close. When she opens them back up, they¡¯re burning with fire and humiliation. And then ¡­ she goes and does it, tosses her hair.


    She executes the move wlessly. Damn it.


    ¡°Whatever. We¡¯re not at Burberry now though, are we?¡± Isabe turns to walk off, her dress just barely covering her ass. I¡¯m not judging, it¡¯s just ¡­ sad. She¡¯s fourteen for crap¡¯s sake. Before she gets three feet from us, Isabe pauses and nces over her shoulder. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say she had Dad¡¯s nose. ¡°No wonder Mom dumped you. What a disappointment.¡±


    Isabe spins away in a flurry of brte hair, rejoining her friends near the seating area by the bar. My mouth tightens into a thin line as I think about her sitting between my parents, about the tears in my dad¡¯s eyes that he never fully exined.


    ¡°You¡¯ve wanted this for so long, Marnye-bear. I¡¯m just happy the moment is finally here.¡±


    Huh.


    ¡°Do you want me to beat her up for you?¡± Miranda asks, and I nce over to see she¡¯s positively fuming. I shake my head, and then tuck my fingers into the pockets of the sexy, little cocktail dress. Wow. I would never have expected Tristan Vanderbilt to pick out a dress with pockets on it, especially not the Tristan from two years ago.


    ¡°She¡¯s upset about something,¡± I say, pushing the hurt down as it tries to rear its ugly head inside of me. ¡°And I think I might have some idea of what that is.¡±


    Turning to Miranda, I pull out the fake driver¡¯s license with two fingers and force a grin. I¡¯m not going to let Isabe Carmichael get to me, not even if she is the culmination and destruction of fourteen years of hopes and daydreams.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you get yourself something fruity and alcoholic, and I¡¯ll be the DD?¡±


    Miranda narrows her eyes at me, but nods anyway and grabs my hand,


    dragging me over to the bar.


    Isabe stays as long as we do, right up until the club closes, and I swear, I can feel her eyes on my back the entire time.


    It¡¯s not afortable feeling ¡­ almost like I¡¯ve got a target between my shoulder des.


    I¡¯m going to have to watch my new lContent is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ittle sister very, very carefully, aren¡¯t


    I?

 227

    The next morning, I¡¯m rudely awoken by the sound of a bus horn outside my window. Groaning, I pull a pillow over my head to quiet the noise. A few momentster, there¡¯s a knock on the door, and I¡¯m forced to get up anyway.


    Miranda¡¯s still peacefully passed out on the couch, snoring, and Dad¡¯s left for a doctor¡¯s appointment. I¡¯d intended on going with him, but he didn¡¯t wake me up. Part of me wonders if he doesn¡¯t want me to know how bad things are getting.


    ¡°This better be good,¡± I grumble, rubbing at my sleep-crusted eyes and throwing the front door open.


    My eyes widen, and a small squeak escapes my lips. Fuck.


    This¡¯ll teach me to check the peephole for, like, murderers and stuff. That is, murderers and tatted rock star boys.


    ¡°Whoa there, Working Girl, are you rocking duckie pj¡¯s?¡± Zayd asks, throwing out this devilish little grin as he pinches the shoulder of my pajamas and then leans in for a kiss.


    I¡¯m so shocked to see him, and embarrassed as all get-out, but when he


    steps forward and curls his inked arm around me, I forget that I¡¯m wearing pajamas with feet.


    Zayd tastes like cherry Coke and cloves, and he smells like sage and geranium. With his strong arm banded around me and his lips against mine, I


    can barely breathe. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I¡¯m on my tiptoes, eyes closed, swooning away into oblivion.


    ¡°What on earth are you wearing?¡± azy voice drawls from somewhere behind Zayd. My eyes snap open, and I¡¯m pushing back against Zayd¡¯s chest as he howls withughter and releases me.


    My footie pajamas slip on the hardwood floor, and if Zayd didn¡¯t step forward to catch me again, I would¡¯ve fallen right on my ass.


    Creed moves into the shadows of the house, giving me that devil-may-care smile of his as he walks over and sits down on the sofa, right on top of his sister. She barely stirs as he reaches out and pokes a finger in the center of her forehead.


    ¡°Wake up, sleepyhead,¡± he purrs, flicking his eyes briefly over to mine. There¡¯s a small sh of jealousy there as he licks his lips, studying me as I stand in the circle of Zayd¡¯s arms. ¡°Did you two stay upte partyingst night? That¡¯s awfully naughty of you, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°I, we ¡­¡± I start, but then I catch sight of Zack moving down the steps of the giant silver and ck bus that¡¯s parked in front of my house. I¡¯d be in awe of the size of the thing-it takes up the length of our yard plus the driveway and then some-if I weren¡¯t so focused on the boy with the broad shoulders and the rounded biceps. Do not drool, Marnye, not cool.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he says, cool as a cucumber, eyes dark and narrowed but not unpleasant. No, actually, in the deep, shadowed depths of those beautiful irises, he looks pretty damn happy to see me. A smile curves the perfection of his full, lush mouth. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see us here, huh?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I admit, feeling lightheaded and happy, but also a tad concerned. They¡¯ve been missing a whole week, and then they show up in a giant RV? What¡¯s going on here? ¡°What happened to Tristan and Windsor?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re here alright,¡± Zayd says, making sure I¡¯m settled on my feet before he lets go, his eyes scanning my pajama-d form with interest. Heat suffuses my cheeks, and I start to back up, intending to escape to my bedroom before Tristan or Windsore in and see me dressed like this. I¡¯m embarrassed enough as it is, but somehow the thought of those two seeing me wearing fuzzy baby duck pj¡¯s ¡­ ¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t.¡± Zayd grabs me by the wrist and pulls me forward, keeping me from the safety of my closed bedroom door, and a pair of tight jeans and a cute top.


    Tristanes down the steps of the bus, dressed in his fourth-year uniform and looking like a goddamn king. He¡¯s got on the ck zer with the red and white Burberry Prep logo, the ck shirt, ck tie, ck cks


    ¡­


    Windsor is right behind him, dressed far more casually in long jean shorts, and a red wifebeater. His red hair is just slightly curled, and he has this swagger to his walk that makes me smile ¡­ That is, before the two boys step out of the sunshine and into the darkness of the house.


    That¡¯s when their gazes both go straight to my outfit, and my face mes up like an inferno.


    Something strange passes over Tristan¡¯s gaze, an almost unbelievable warmth, maybe even a strange sort of tenderness, but then it¡¯s gone, and he¡¯s cocking a perfectly sculpted dark brow at me.


    ¡°You look ridiculous. Where on earth did you find a pair of pajamas so hideous?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a gift from my dad,¡± I grumble as Windsor grins and steps forward, cupping the side of my face with his hand. My heart stops briefly, and I feel faint for the smallest of moments. I missed them all so much that all of a sudden, it really hits home.


    I¡¯ve been essentially living with these guys for years, eating in the same ce, walking the same halls, day after day. Once we graduate, that¡¯s all gone. It¡¯s all gone, and I can never get it back.


    My stomach turns over, and Windsor¡¯s face tightens almost imperceptibly. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he whispers, leaning in and putting his forehead up to


    mine. Windsor closes his beautiful hazel eyes for a moment, but not before I see a sh of fatigue in them. He¡¯s tired. Something happened this week, I know it.


    ¡°I¡¯m just fine,¡± I tell him, feeling my stomach light up with butterflies. He pulls back just slightly from me, eyes opening, and then he leans in and crushes his mouth to mine. There¡¯s a fierce, quiet possession in that kiss that steals my breath away. It also feels like maybe ¡­ Windsor isn¡¯t the impermeable, unshakable force he pretends to be. It feels like he needs me in that moment, and I like it. I want to be there for him the way he was for me from the first second we met.


    ¡°The pajamas are quite nice, love. Very sexy.¡± He pulls back and moves over to the chair near the firece, sitting down like his body¡¯s just a little


    too heavy to carry aroundfortably.


    ¡°So ¡­ how was the Club meeting?¡± I ask, clearing my throat as Miranda groans and stirs, mostly because Creed is yanking on her hair. Nobody but Zack is willing to look at me. ¡°That bad, huh?¡±Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It was ¡­ interesting.¡± He looks away, toward an oil painting on the wall that Jennifer made in college. I¡¯ve always hated it. It¡¯s not very good, and Jennifer isn¡¯t a very nice person, so I¡¯m more than willing to point out the painting¡¯s ws. She left me at a rest stop, kept my sister from me, and now she¡¯s pregnant again. Just what the world doesn¡¯t need, another baby for her to mess up. ¡°But I guess it went better than expected. Tristan¡¯s still here, isn¡¯t he?¡± Zack narrows his eyes and sighs, reaching up to ruffle his short, dark hair.


    Tristan simply sighs and looks out the window, his expression far away and detached. He knew he wasn¡¯ting back to Burberry Prep next year, so he tried to set things up in such a way that I¡¯d be safe. My heart stutters, and I let out a small sigh that draws his attention my way.


    His de-gray gaze catches mine, and I feel suddenly like I¡¯m falling.


    Reaching out, I curl my arm around Zayd¡¯s to stay steady.


    ¡°Where would you be if ¡­ things didn¡¯t go the way you wanted?¡± I ask Tristan directly, and he sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. Our eyes meet, and a warm shiver takes over my body.


    We almost ¡­ I almost made a bad decision, and I didn¡¯t care.


    My sex education is better than that. It might be a good idea for me to look into birth control though, huh?


    ¡°At a military school in eastern Maine,¡± Tristan says, his voice neutral but threaded with a certain sort of darkness that reflects in his fist as he clenches it tightly by his side. ¡°My father¡¯s new mistress was going to graciously pay to ship me across the country. That, of course, was only after she talked him out of disowning his only sonpletely-that is, he wouldn¡¯t have if I¡¯d met his conditions. I did not.¡± He bites thisst word out like a curse.


    ¡°He¡¯s that angry with you?¡± I ask softly as Miranda finally sits up, yawning and rubbing at her face as she mumbles curses under her breath. Pretty sure she¡¯s hungover. She drank a lotst night. Fending creepy guys off of her was a full-time job. Men can be so gross sometimes. ¡°Over me?¡±


    Tristan just shrugs loosely.


    ¡°Among other things. He¡¯s never liked me, not since the moment my mother decided she wanted to have me. Then he bought me off of her like he does everything else in his life.¡± Tristan smiles, but it¡¯s a simr expression to the one he was wearing the first day I met him. There¡¯s nothing friendly or happy about it. ¡°I¡¯m ranting, excuse me. Do you have a bathroom I could use?¡±


    I give him the nicest, prettiest smile I can muster.


    ¡°No, we¡¯re peasants, so all we have is an outhouse.¡± Pretty sure Creed, Zayd, and Tristan all look at me like they¡¯re not a hundred percent sure whether they believe me or not. A smallugh escapes me, and I


    point down the hall. ¡°First door on the right.¡±

 228

    He moves past me, that distinct scent of his-like cinnamon and peppermint-wafts past and I shiver. Tristan pauses suddenly, turning to me and putting his fingers beneath my jaw. The way he looks at me ¡­ there¡¯s a puzzle in his eyes that I so desperately wish I could solve.


    Without saying a word, Tristan releases me and disappears into the bathroom. A momentter, I hear a door bang outside and nce over to see Lizzie climbing down the bus steps.


    ¡°What is she doing here?!¡± Miranda chokes out, her perfect blond hair all tangled up on top of her head in a rat¡¯s nest. Creed gives her a look and sighs, lounging back in the sea of nkets and pillows like he owns the ce. His mannerisms remind me of that episode of RuPaul¡¯s Drag Race that I watchedst week, when they were dressing up as wealthy heiresses. ¡°I own everything!¡±


    ¡°She was with us at the Club meeting,¡± Zack says, giving Miranda a look. ¡°We literally piled into the bus, left, and drove straight here.¡±


    ¡°Whose bus is it?¡± I ask, my heart pounding, my palms getting sweaty. Tristan and Lizzie were alone at the Vanderbilt Manor for an entire week; I will not spend overly long thinking about what could¡¯ve happened between them. I won¡¯t.


    Zayd shes me a big, white grin and leans his forearm against the edge of the door.


    ¡°Mine. This is Afterglow¡¯s tour bus.¡± Zayd pauses as Lizziees up the steps, her dark curls swept back in a ponytail, her smile soft and genuine. A strange feeling bubbles up inside of me, but I mp down on it. If I don¡¯t give others the benefit of the doubt, who will? I have to set a good example.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she says, stepping forward to give me a hug. I return the gesture, despite Miranda¡¯s dark re burning a hole in the side of my head. ¡°Cute pj¡¯s.¡± Lizzie chuckles, and I groan, putting my face in my hand.


    ¡°Gift from Dad. I couldn¡¯t say no.¡± I nce up as the bathroom door opens and Tristanes out, his hair wet and slicked back from his face. I try to look for some sort of connection between him and Lizzie, but he isn¡¯t looking at her. He¡¯s not looking at anyone.


    ¡°So ¡­¡± Zayd starts, drawing my attention over to him again. His hair is still that beautiful sea green color from when we first met. I love it. He could dye it that way the rest of his life, and I¡¯d be happy. Assuming we know each other that long ¡­ My heart starts to pound again, and I push the feelings back. I have all year to enjoy what I¡¯ve got going with these boys. A whole year before I freak out. And it¡¯ll be at least December before I hear back from Bornstead.


    There¡¯s time.


    ¡°So, what?¡± I ask as Tristan leans against the wall near the kitchen entrance, and Creed and Miranda get in some small stupid argument in whispered breaths.


    Zayd twirls one of his ck lip rings around in a circle with his tongue as he nces down at me with those beautiful emerald eyes of his. His grin morphs slowly into this cocksure little smile as he leans down close.


    ¡°You inspired me to get out there and just y some shit, like I used to before we got signed. The boys and I are holding an impromptu concert this weekend.¡± He pauses and pushes off the door, heeling it shut behind him and crossing his inked arms over his chest. I¡¯m briefly reminded of our first meeting, when he told me I was ¡®fuckable¡¯. How far we¡¯vee since then. ¡°I thought you might like toe along.¡±


    ¡°A concert?¡± I ask, getting this fluttery sensation inside my chest. ¡°I¡¯d love that. Where at?¡±


    Zayd smirks and puts the sole of his boot up against the door, watching me with half-lidded eyes. He seems to be in a good enough mood, but all I have to do is look at Windsor and Tristan to know that things with the Infinity Club aren¡¯t exactly rosy and covered in glitter.


    Harper still hates me. My little sister wants nothing to do with me. Dad is sick. Fourth year at Burberry Prep is going to be insane.


    ¡°It¡¯s a secret. Only people who follow me closely on social media will know where it is.¡± Zayd winks at me again, and then chews on his lip ring. ¡°Out of the kindness of my heart, I¡¯ve even graciously invited your other boyfriends. What do you think, Charity? Doesn¡¯t that generosity deserve another kiss?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a lewd asshole,¡± Zack growls, giving Zayd a particrly unfriendly sort of look. He¡¯s got his letterman jacket on, and I have to wonder if he knows how much of a trigger that is for me.


    ¡°If I were being a lewd asshole ¡­¡± Zayd starts, pushing off the door and stepping close, so he can sweep some of my rose-gold hair from my forehead. My pulse picks up, and I decide that I really, really need to get the hell out of these jammies ASAP. ¡°I¡¯d ask for something a little stronger than a kiss.¡±


    ¡°Oookay,¡± I start, backing up and putting myself against the shared wall between my living room and bedroom. ¡°Are you guys really not going to tell me what went on at that meeting?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not important,¡± Windsor says, almost too quickly. He stands up and shes me a cheeky grin. ¡°We handled it, love. All taken care of. Now, are you going to lunch in those adorable duck pajamas, or would you like to change? Either way, I¡¯m taking you out.¡±


    ¡°Lizzie and I can stay here, so you guys can make a date out of it,¡± Miranda says cheerfully, standing up from the couch with the most genuine sort of smile on her face. ¡°We can even clean for you while you¡¯re gone, as a favor.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to-¡± I start, but Miranda¡¯s already linking her arm through Lizzie¡¯s and grinning, almost maniacally now.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. We¡¯d be happy to. Right, Lizzie?¡± Miranda nces her way, but she¡¯s pretty much cornered Lizzie into epting at this point. It¡¯d be hard to refuse without looking like, well, sort of an asshole. ¡°Marnye deserves some private time with her guys, especially after a week spent apart.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± Lizzie starts, ncing over at Tristan. He¡¯s about as expressive as a grapefruit right now. He gives nothing away. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s understandable


    ¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s kidnap her in those pajamas,¡± Creed drawls, yawning and stretching his arms above his white-blond head. ¡°Quite frankly, they turn me on like


    nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Shush up, barely-ex-virgin,¡± Miranda grumbles, letting go of Lizzie and taking my hand. ¡°I will dress the love of your lives up, no worries. Give us twenty minutes.¡± Miranda drags me from the living room, into my bedroom, and then closes and locks the door behind her.


    ¡°That was a dirty trick,¡± I whisper, but she just keeps right on grinning and ignores me, moving over to the closet for another dress.


    ¡°I know. But what¡¯s done is done. Lizzie can either back off, or I can make her back off. Now, try this dress on and let¡¯s see if we can get five guys to get boners all at once.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, that¡¯s romantic,¡± I mutter, but now I¡¯m smiling, too. Lunch with the guys sounds ex


    actly like what I need right now.

 229

    On the inside, the bus is more like a mini-mansion on wheels. I¡¯m basically gagging as Zayd gives me the full tour. We¡¯ve just gotten back from lunch, and I have to say, it felt good to be with the boys again. I missed them so much it hurt. At the same time, there¡¯s a lot of tension, all these tangled threads that need to be unwoven.


    I just keep telling myself to deal with one thing at a time.


    ¡°These are the bunks,¡± Zayd says, showcasing the beds on either side of the narrow hall. The dark look he gives me says he¡¯s thinking of doing more than just sleeping in them. ¡°Plenty of room for one guy and a very special guest.¡±


    ¡°And how many very special guests have you entertained on this bus?¡± I ask, but he justughs, that howling, all-consuming sound that makes me smile.


    ¡°Oh, Charity.¡± Zayd pats me on the head and then kicks open the bathroom door behind him. ¡°There¡¯s even a tub in here. Again, plenty of room for one guy and a very special guest ¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving now,¡± I say, turning and making my way back down the hall.


    Zayd catches me from behind, his arms sliding around my waist, his chining to rest on my shoulder. My entire body flushes warm, and my eyes close of their own ord. Speaking of tension ¡­ There¡¯s a definite thread


    between me and Zayd, one that¡¯s been there from the first second Iid eyes on him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go, Charity, I was just ying,¡± he murmurs, nuzzling against my neck. For the moment, we¡¯re the only two people on this bus. An impossible heat rushes to my core as Iy my hands over Zayd¡¯s. ¡°There¡¯s only one special guest I want on my bus from now on.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I ask, as he squeezes me even tighter, my back to his front. ¡°Definitely so. What say you we kick all the rest of these bastards to the


    curb for the night, and have a little sleepover in here? I¡¯ll give the driver the night off ¡­¡±


    ¡°My dad might not like that very much,¡± I murmur, but I know I¡¯m getting close to turning eighteen. He won¡¯t have much of a say over what I can and can¡¯t do. The thing is, I love him and respect him, and I wouldn¡¯t want to cause him unnecessary stress either.


    ¡°What Dad doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt him,¡± Zayd whispers, running his tongue up the curve of my ear.


    ¡°Maybe it won¡¯t bother her dad, but it certainly bothers me,¡± Tristan says, appearing at the top of the steps. I shudder in Zayd¡¯s arms, and my mind goes to the naughtiest ces. I wonder what it¡¯d be like with Zayd on one side and Tristan on the other?


    Oh dear. I might¡¯ve spent too much time reading that book, Groupie, that Miranda gave me a few days ago. It¡¯s a reverse harem story where the main character gets all five boys to herself. Like ¡­ what I have. But, it ends that way, too. She doesn¡¯t have to choose.


    Lucky bitch.


    Zayd releases me with a sigh, propping his elbow on the edge of one of the top bunks.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°What do you want, Vanderbilt? Some cash to get a hotel room for the night? Because in this case, I¡¯m willing to offer up a little charity to get some alone time with, well, Charity, if you catch my drift.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t your family have a ce on the beach?¡± I ask Tristan, but his face just darkens up and he says nothing. Oh. This whole disowning thing is for real, isn¡¯t it? ¡°You know, I¡¯d have to ask my dad, but I¡¯m sure you could stay here for a few nights.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need a ce to stay for a few nights, chickadee,¡± Zayd says, sounding almost like he¡¯s taking pleasure in Tristan¡¯s downfall. Hell,


    knowing him, he probably is. ¡°He needs a ce to stay for the entire summer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a homeless vagrant now,¡± Tristan drawls, leaning his shoulder against the kitchen cabs and watching us with sharp, silver eyes. ¡°Does that make you happy, Zayd? Do youther up your dick with lotion and dream about it?¡±


    ¡°No, Ither my dick up and dream about Marnye,¡± Zayd retorts with a smirk, grabbing me again. I wiggle out of his arms and cast a look over my shoulder.


    ¡°You shithead,¡± I grumble, but I¡¯m not entirely displeased at his statement. I move over to the much wider kitchen area and try not to think about the fact that this bus is like a more luxurious version of the Train Car. Like, Dad and I lived in that our whole lives, and Zayd just owns one for the hell of it. Wealth disparity sure is an interesting topic. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see why one of the boys can¡¯t put you up somewhere,¡± I tell him, looking between Tristan and Zayd. ¡°Don¡¯t you all usually go to the Hamptons for the summer anyway? There was plenty of house up there to go around.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to the Hamptons this year,¡± Zayd says, moving over to


    the fridge and opening it to reveal about a hundred different bottled drinks. I can see from all the way over here that there¡¯s an entire shelf of iced teas and sodas for me; it¡¯s not all alcohol which I appreciate. Zayd snags a beer for himself, tosses one to Tristan, and then turns to look at me with his pierced brow raised. ¡°What can I get you, babe?¡±


    ¡°Iced tea, thank you.¡± Zayd hands one to me, and I take a seat on the edge of the bench that surrounds the small table. ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not going to the Hamptons?¡±


    ¡°He means we¡¯re staying here. With you.¡± Tristan uses a bottle opener that¡¯s screwed to the wall and pops the top on his drink, putting the long neck of the bottle to his lush mouth and taking a sip.


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, feeling this surge of tender appreciation bubble up in me. I want to jump up and down with excitement, but I¡¯m also mildly suspicious. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m grateful and honestly pretty excited to hang out, but I¡¯m also curious.¡±


    ¡°We want to chill with you,¡± Zayd says, picking at thebel on his beer with ck fingernails. I get the idea that they¡¯re both hiding something from


    me, but then, I¡¯ve been getting that vibe since I first saw them this morning. He nces up at me. ¡°And we know you want to be close to your dad.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I ask, and Zayd shrugs. ¡°I feel l


    ike you¡¯re all hiding something.¡±

 230

    ¡°It¡¯s just more Infinity Club bullshit,¡± Tristan says, his voice as smooth as cognac, settling over me in a cool wave. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll sleep at the homeless shelter if I have to.¡±


    You wouldn¡¯t survive a single night, I think as I narrow my eyes and unscrew the cap on my drink.


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason for that. You can stay with me for the rest of the summer.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Zayd asks as I stand up. I give him a frosty look.


    ¡°Well, he has to stay somewhere, doesn¡¯t he? I guess he¡¯ll be just steps away from my bedroom door for the next few months.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa,¡± Zayd inserts, holding up his hands and backpedaling a little. ¡°Of course he can stay with me. We¡¯re almost sorta, kinda friends.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far,¡± Tristan says, narrowing his eyes and sighing. He


    looks almost as tired as Windsor. I swallow hard and lick my lips, drawing his attention up to me. There¡¯s this strange, silentmunication that passes between us. Breakfast when he pushed me over the table, that game of Twister, Lizzie¡¯s confession. ¡°But I ept the offer.¡±


    ¡°Good on you,¡± Zayd murmurs with a roll of his eyes, pausing as the driver of the bus pops his head in and asks to speak with him for a moment. ¡°Be right back. Don¡¯t get into too much trouble while I¡¯m gone.¡± He hops down the bus steps, and the door swooshes shut softly behind him, sealing Tristan and me into the air conditioned space together.


    ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡± I start, trying to fill the awkward silence. Tristan moves over to the table and sits across from me, his silver eyes cutting across the surface and digging straight into my soul. He moves one foot forward and ends up brushing it against mine.


    ¡°You can ask it. Maybe I¡¯ll answer it, maybe not.¡± I narrow my eyes and take a sip of my tea.


    ¡°What colleges did you apply to?¡±


    Tristan goes very still, like that¡¯s not a question he¡¯d even remotely considered me asking. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his silky,


    raven-dark hair, looking out the window toward the street instead of at my face.


    ¡°That¡¯s your question? You don¡¯t want to ask about my father, or about Lizzie, or even why I tried so hard to beat you during third year?¡±


    ¡°You always try hard to beat me. What¡¯s new? Tell me where you applied.¡±


    Tristan pauses, leaning back in his seat as he studies me carefully. ¡°Harvard.¡± Of course. ¡°Stanford.¡± Expected. ¡°Brown.¡± Interesting choice.


    ¡°Oxford.¡± That¡¯s too freaking far away. Tristan takes another drink of his beer, watching my face like he¡¯s expecting a certain type of reaction from me. ¡°Bornstead.¡±


    My heart leaps out of my chest, and I stand up.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already decided against that one though,¡± he adds before I can get too excited.


    ¡°Why?¡± I snap, setting my iced tea down and crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°I feel like you¡¯re doing this to me on purpose.¡±


    ¡°I already told you, Marnye, you¡¯re better off without me.¡± Tristan stands up, like this conversation is over. But I haven¡¯t even gotten started. I step in front of him when he goes to leave, and he narrows his gray eyes on me. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Stopping you from running away,¡± I say, holding my arms wide. Might be a tad dramatic, but that¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t care. Tristan Vanderbilt is a man used to getting whatever he wants. Well, what he wants right now is to take the easy road and run from me. I¡¯m not having it. He¡¯ll have to get used topromise. ¡°You think you¡¯re such a bad man, but you¡¯re not. Are you a spoiled brat? Sure. Do you have a lick of cruelty in your blood? Yes. But ¡­ I like you anyway.¡±


    Tristan stares down at me, breathing heavily, and then tosses his empty beer bottle into the sink. His signature cinnamon-peppermint scent hangs heavy in the air between us, wrapping around me like a spell.


    ¡°It¡¯ll take more than just a high school crush to turn me around, Marnye.¡± He tries to move past me, but I grab onto his arm and he stops suddenly, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Those cruel eyes slide over to look at me. ¡°You don¡¯t deserve to spend your life trying to reform some asshole. I can¡¯t even afford to go to college now.¡±


    ¡°We can get you some schrships; it¡¯s not toote, Tristan. If you want something, there¡¯s a way to make it happen. Look at me: I got into Burberry Prep against all odds. I survived Burberry Prep against all odds.¡± My hand tightens on his arm, and he closes his eyes. ¡°Why are you fighting this so hard?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand howplicated my life is, Marnye. I can¡¯t just skip off into the sunset. Not with you or anyone else.¡± He goes to pull his arm from my grip, but I refuse to let go, and Tristan ends up pushing me against the counter. His hands are on either side of me, our bodies pressed so close together that I can¡¯t breathe without my breasts pushing up against his chest. ¡°Why won¡¯t you leave me alone? You have four other guys slobbering for your affections. They all have money, and much lessplicated families than I do.¡± He pauses and looks away for a minute. ¡°Although if you were smart, you¡¯d untangle yourself from the Infinity Club, and you¡¯d run as far and fast as-¡±


    I reach up and grab his face between both hands, turning him back to me for a hard, punishing kiss. I try to start it off sweet, but as soon as our mouths touch, Tristan takes over. He makes this sound that belies this falsehood of control. Tristan Vanderbilt is not in control of himself right now. He¡¯s not really in control of anything in his life.


    He lifts me up and sets me on the edge of the counter. This might be a tour bus, but it¡¯s still got the same low counters that the Train Car had, putting me at just the right height to feel the hardness in his cks pressing against my core.


    With a small growl, Tristan turns his head away and buries his face in my hair.


    ¡°I want to fuck you so badly,¡± he murmurs, and I shiver, leaning my head against his. ¡°But I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I whisper, because he¡¯s holding me so tight right now. I can just imagine us taking things a step further than we did in his room that day


    ¡­


    ¡°Because I use sex like a weapon. I won¡¯t wield it against you.¡± He pulls away again, and this time, I let him go. ¡°Trust me: the temptation is there.¡± Tristan looks back at me before heading for the door. ¡°Looks like your dad is home.¡±


    He hits the stairs as I groan, leaning my head back against the cabs and cursing under my breath. My whole body¡¯s on fire right now, and my nipples are embarrassingly hard beneath the thin pink dress that Miranda dressed me in.


    I take a moment to gather myself together, and then hop down, heading out to meet Charlie as he pulls up to the curb in his rusty Ford. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be excited to see my five boyfriends hanging out at his house.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he starts, eyeing the giant bus with a raised eyebrow. It¡¯s so long it blocks the driveway; Dad had to park on the street in front of thMaterial ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    e neighbor¡¯s house. ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡±

 231

    ¡°This is just a, uh, home away from home,¡± I say, smiling as I hold out a hand to indicate the giant silver and ck monstrosity overshadowing our neighborhood. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that my friends stopped by for a bit


    ¡­¡±Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    Dad smiles and reaches out to ruffle up my hair.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind at all,¡± he says as I take his hand and squeeze it in mine. ¡°How was chemo today?¡± I ask casually, knowing that Charlie¡¯s resistant


    to telling me anything about his treatment. He doesn¡¯t want to scare me.


    What he doesn¡¯t realize is that I¡¯m scared enough as it is.


    ¡°Just fine,¡± he replies, his baseball cap covering up his balding head. I hate it. It¡¯s not fair. Why does someone like William Vanderbilt get to beat his son and squandor his family fortune, and have his fat pulled from the fire at thest second? And why does someone like Jennifer Carmichael get to cheat on her husband, abandon her child, and then live a life of luxury without any health problems?


    The world can be so cruel sometimes.


    ¡°Mr. Reed,¡± Windsor greets,ing out of the house with Zack on his heels. The former has no problem sauntering up to shake hands with my father while thetter ¡­ The shame on his face is reflected in Creed¡¯s. Zayd just looks nervous while Tristan¡¯spletely nk.


    ¡°Oh, right. Those friends.¡± Dad sighs, but we¡¯ve been through this all before atst year¡¯s birthday party, so it¡¯s not as big a deal as it was before. ¡°Well, a friend of mine stopped by the hospital to say hi and brought me this huge grill pack. I suppose I could whip up some steak and chicken, maybe a few burgers ¡­¡±


    ¡°Let us do the cooking,¡± Windsor supplies, stepping past Dad and grabbing the cooler from the back of the truck before Charlie can even think to protest. ¡°You rest, and I¡¯ll bring you a cup of tea. I brought some loose- leaf varieties that were a gift from my great-grandmother.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a nice boy,¡± Dad says, but then cringes slightly. ¡°I mean, I guess you¡¯re all nearly eighteen, so I should say man.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just thankful you allow me to date your daughter,¡± Windsor tells him, and I love how it just goes over everyone¡¯s head that Wind¡¯s ¡®great- grandmother¡¯ is the Queen of freaking Ennd.


    Dad smiles, but there¡¯s a faraway sort of look in his eyes, the same look he¡¯s had all week. I need to talk to him about the Isabe thing. He¡¯s a terrible liar, so if my suspicions are right, he¡¯ll spill the beans during a simple confrontation. But that¡¯s a good trait to have, right? To be a terrible liar? Better than being an expert.


    ¡°Everything okay?¡± I ask again, putting my hand on his arm. He pauses and purses his lips, nodding.


    ¡°Yeah, everything¡¯s fine, Marnye-bear. There¡¯s nothing for you to worry about; I just want you to enjoy your senior year.¡± He starts toward the house again, but my nerves are on high-alert. I feel like there¡¯s something more he¡¯s not telling me.


    I watch him go, greeting Lizzie and Miranda as he steps into the house. He mostly ignores Zack and Creed, but that¡¯s no surprise there. He hasn¡¯t forgiven them yet, and I can¡¯t me him. I¡¯m more likely to forgive something done to me versus something done to a person I love.


    ¡°He hates them, doesn¡¯t he?¡± I ask Wind, ncing his direction as he follows my dad¡¯s retreat with dark shadows dancing behind his hazel eyes. He still seems distracted and tired to me; it¡¯s making me nervous.


    The prince nces my way again, blinking those fears and doubts from his gaze and smiling.


    ¡°Maybe. That¡¯s why you should dump the rest of these assholes, marry me, and ride off into the sunset in your rose-gold Maserati.¡± Windsor leans over and presses a light kiss to my cheek, just the most fleeting pressure of lips against skin that leaves me lightheaded and dizzy.


    I nce his way, but I still can¡¯t decide if he¡¯s serious or not.


    ¡°College first, Windy,¡± I tell him, and he gives me this naughty, sexy little grin. We haven¡¯t talked much about college, me and him. Other than the fact


    that he said he doesn¡¯t particrly care if he goes or not, I don¡¯t know anything about his future ns. He¡¯s got enough money to blow it on whatever he wants and livefortably for the rest of his life.


    ¡°College first then princessdom,¡± he says, stepping toward me and curling his fingers through mine. For a moment there, I find myself short of breath, staring back at the handsome prince and wondering what on earth I did to make him like me so much. Part of me still wonders if he¡¯s up to something.


    I decide to ask him the same question that Creed asked me.


    ¡°Why?¡± I whisper, my voice barely audible, the sound stolen away by the gentle breeze and the tinkle of wind chimes.


    ¡°Why, what?¡± the prince asks, stepping so close that I can see flecks of gold and blue and green in his irises. His red-orange hair is just slightly curled on the top, and it falls gently over his forehead until he lets go of one of my hands and pushes it up. It stays up, too, like it prefers to be there.


    ¡°Why do you like me?¡± I ask, genuinely curious. I¡¯m not fishing forpliments or looking for validation, I just want to know.


    Windsor cocks a red brow at me.


    ¡°Mm, interesting question,¡± he says, looking up at the sky for a moment. When he nces back down at me, there¡¯s a much softer expression on his face that makes me shiver. ¡°Now? Or when I first saw you? Those, Mdy, are two different answers.¡±


    ¡°Now,¡± I say firmly, exhaling and enjoying the warmth of his hand pressed up against mine. Wind nods, like he expected as much.


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s because you¡¯re a person who isn¡¯t swayed by the easy things in life. You demand heart and sacrifice, kindness, generosity. Those sorts of acts aren¡¯t easy. I admire you in a way I¡¯ve never admired anyone else.¡± He pauses and reaches up to touch the side of my face. ¡°There¡¯s a purity in you that very well might cancel out the darkness in me. Marnye, I¡¯m not ashamed to admit it: I want you, and I¡¯m willing to fight for the


    privilege of calling you mine.¡±

 232

    ¡°Do you think we could talk about something?¡± I ask Dad a few weekster, sitting across from him at the Railroad Station. He¡¯s barely touched his peanut butter and syrup soaked waffles and seems a million miles away.


    He blinks like he¡¯sing to and turns to look at me, putting on a smile that doesn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. I exhale and curl my fingers around my fork. The smell of fresh coffee and maple syrup calms my nerves, but this is still a hard question to ask.


    ¡°Are you still ¡­¡± Ugh, this is going to be harder than I thought, isn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Am I still what?¡± he asks, setting his fork down and picking up his coffee. The stic tablecloth is sticky, the ce crowded, but it¡¯s the soft murmur of voices and the clink of cutlery that makes me feel at home. Dad and I have been eating here for years.


    Going to Bornstead ¡­ I¡¯ll be a million miles away. Okay, so I¡¯m exaggerating: it¡¯s more like a twelve hundred mile drive. Twenty hours. Well, or a three hour flight from the San Jose airport.


    ¡°Are you still seeing Jennifer?¡± I ask, looking down at the streaks of yellow egg on my te instead of at Dad¡¯s face. He pauses for a minute, but I guess he decides the question¡¯s fair enough and answers.


    ¡°No, not anymore. Not since my diagnosis. Your mother-¡±


    ¡°Is a selfish bitch and can¡¯t handle your illness?¡± I look up and find Dad watching me carefully. He sighs and reaches up to adjust his baseball cap.


    Normally he wouldn¡¯t wear a hat inside, but he¡¯s too ashamed of his thinning hair, and the whole staff is sympathetic.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t talk about your mother that way,¡± he tells me, but I don¡¯t have any sympathy for that woman. Forgiveness, Marnye, forgiveness. If you forgave the guys, surely you can forgive Jennifer? ¡°I want you to have a rtionship with her, with your sister.¡±


    ¡°Only because you don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to be around,¡± I grind out, feeling this dark desperation creep over me.


    I¡¯m starting to realize that I¡¯m a bit of a control freak, but ¡­ Dad¡¯s illness, that¡¯s one thing I can¡¯t control. That¡¯s one aspect in my life I can¡¯t just soldier through. I need him. I need him to see me graduate not just Burberry Prep, but also Bornstead U. I need him to see me get married. I need him to see me seed. He sacrificed so much for me; I want him to know that I¡¯m putting forth all my effort to make his sacrifices count.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he says, his voice soft and strange and far away. Our brown eyes lock together, and he refuses to let me look away. ¡°We need to have this conversation.¡±


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t.¡± My eyes start to fill with tears, but I force them back. I¡¯ve


    already promised myself that I won¡¯t let Charlie see me cry. Creedence Clearwater Revivales on over the speakers, and I have to fight even harder to push the tears back. Have You Ever Seen the Rain just makes me want to sob. I don¡¯t know why.


    ¡°My doctor isn¡¯t sure I¡¯ll make it more than another six months.¡±Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°No!¡± I stand up suddenly, all the other questions I had tucked away disappearing like smoke. Is Isabe really my half-sister? Because she looks like she might be more than that. Is that why she¡¯s so angry? And what about the baby? It¡¯s not yours, is it? ¡°No.¡± I lower my voice when several of the other patrons turn to look at me. ¡°Please don¡¯t talk like that. You¡¯re getting the best treatments avable, and ¡­¡± I feel the sudden need to text Windsor and ask about it. He said he¡¯d take care of it, right?


    Logically, I know Windsor York has no control over my father¡¯s cancer.


    Logically. But there¡¯s no logic in a broken heart.


    ¡°Sometimes, we have to ept the hand we¡¯ve been dealt,¡± Dad starts, and I turn and push away from the table, racing outside into the sunny morning. The air is crisp, and there are birds singing bright songs. I hate them all in that moment.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Zack asks, leaning against the side of his orange McLaren. I lift my gaze up and nce over at him, his brown eyes dark and narrowed, his expression soft but his stance foreboding. He looks so scary. Hell, I used to be scared of him. But when I walk over and slide my arms around his waist, he gathers me up close, his sporty scentforting me.


    I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet and savory mix of nutmeg andvender, and decide I don¡¯t care if Dad looks out and sees us. I hate secrets. I need to tell him the truth about the guys, and that I¡¯m dating all five of them.


    Zack cups the back of my head with one of his big hands, squeezing me so tight that I feel more than safe wrapped up in all those big muscles of his.


    He doesn¡¯t ask me to talk about it, just holds me there until I push away and sniffle a bit.


    ¡°Want to go check out the campus at LBMS?¡± he asks, and I give him a look. The day I left, I swore I¡¯d never go back to Lower Banks Middle School again. But ¡­ maybe it¡¯d be cathartic somehow? ¡°We can write Mrs. Dickweed in Sharpie on Mrs. Dillword¡¯s door and pretend we¡¯re fourteen again.¡±


    ¡°I never wrote Mrs. Dickweed on that woman¡¯s door,¡± I tell Zack, crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°Because I am not a bully.¡± His face softens up and he reaches out to ruffle my hair. It could be a patronizing sort of move, done wrong, but Zack makes it seem affectionate. ¡°But she was a bit of a bully herself sometimes, so I get it.¡± I pause and study his tall form for a moment, trying not to think about our sessions in the dark. We¡¯ve only had sex a handful of times, and it still feels so new. When I look at him and think too hard about it, I flush and feel the nearly uncontroble urge to blurt out random architectural and historical facts. ¡°What are you doing here anyway?¡±


    ¡°You got me addicted to this ce,¡± he says, pausing as one of the pretty young waitresses bounces down the step


    s with a bag of to-go food.

 233

    ¡°I¡¯ve got your order, Zack,¡± she says, biting her lower lip and blinking long eyshes in his direction. Then she notices me standing there and looks at me like I¡¯m getting in her way.


    ¡°Thanks, Lucia,¡± Zack says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash. ¡°Keep the change, okay?¡± She takes it and gives me another sassy look before storming off.


    ¡°Come here a lot, huh?¡± I ask, ring at him, but it¡¯s tempered with a smile. ¡°Lucia seems to really like you. And you¡¯re on a first-name basis, too?¡±


    Zack gives me a cocky grin and leans down, close enough to kiss.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re aware, but I¡¯m a fucking football star. I can have any girl I want.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I say, crossing my arms over my chest. But I do feel better. I mean, as well as anyone could considering what Dad¡¯s going through. My body starts to tremble and Zack notices, frowning slightly and standing up as the front door to the diner opens again and Charliees down the steps.


    He¡¯s still not Zack¡¯s biggest fan, but we¡¯re getting there.


    ¡°Zack,¡± Dad greets, looking between the two of us like he can¡¯t quite figure out our rtionship.


    ¡°Mr. Reed,¡± Zack says, and I feel another pinch of guilt that I came between their friendship with that video. Maybe I went a little too far with that one? ¡°I was just here picking up a to-go order, and ran into Marnye.¡±


    Dad nods, turning to me with this inscrutable expression on his face. ¡°I¡¯m going to head over to the winery and start installing those arches.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be working,¡± I tell him firmly, feeling my body get hot with frustration. ¡°I have that poker money-¡±


    ¡°Which you¡¯ll need for college.¡± Dad reaches out and touches the side of my face with a thin hand, a hand that used to be strong and sure. ¡°I want to work, Marnye. I like it. Ironwork is like an art form for me. If I stop doing it, that¡¯s like giving up. Do you want to drop me at home, so I can grab my truck?¡± Dad gestures at the rose-gold Maserati, sitting so conspicuously in a row of rusted old cars that to me, have just as much life and beauty to them as the birthday gift from the prince.


    ¡°Here.¡± I hand Charlie my keys with a smile. ¡°Take my car, but put your seat belt on, and don¡¯t do anything reckless.¡± Dadughs and gives me a quick hug. ¡°I¡¯m cooking you dinner tonight. I¡¯m experimenting with a vegan recipe I found online. Also, I bought Bagel Bites in case it totally sucks.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on,¡± Charlie says, giving me a kiss on the forehead before he heads for the convertible, cursing under his breath and running his hand along the door before he climbs in and takes off.


    ¡°He¡¯s dying, you know,¡± I tell Zack as Dad drives away.


    ¡°I know,¡± he whispers, and since Charlie¡¯s gone, I give myself a few minutes to cry while Zack holds me. He does it so gently, so selflessly ¡­ I¡¯m positive then that I¡¯ve well and truly forgiven him.


    Lower Banks Middle School is surrounded by a chain-link fence. There are security cameras, but I doubt anyone¡¯s watching the feed. More than likely, they¡¯re just there in case of any major vandalism. Once upon a time, there was a trio of full-time police officers who used to rotate their shifts, so there was someone here, rain or shine, whether the campus was open or closed.


    Not anymore.


    Budget cuts have hit the school so hard, it makes me feel both grateful and guilty that I¡¯ve been blessed enough to study at Burberry Prep. Not everyone has a dad like mine though, someone who worked extra shifts to give me harp lessons, to push me to work harder, to fight with everything I had.


    The round circle of grass in the middle of the courtyard is yellow and brown with patches of dry dirt. When Zack and I went here, it was always green and well-tended.


    ¡°It¡¯s gotten worse,¡± he says after he helps me crawl through one of the


    many holes in the fencing, and we stand there in the center of the deadwn, looking back through time.


    ¡°So much worse,¡± I say, feeling this stirring in my belly. One day, I¡¯m going to make it a mission to help schools like these. How many smart and talented kids are tossed aside by the system? They deserve a chance, just like I had.


    A charity case. A piece of trailer park trash. The bullied girl.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to the bathroom,¡± I say after a minute, and Zack stiffens up beside me. I walk across thewn and pause near one of the posts holding up the outdoor awning. Once upon a time, Zack encouraged a group of girls to throw me up against this exact post and dump my entire lunch down my shirt.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he says, his voice cautious and fractured, like the memories are almost as hard for him as they are for me. No, maybe harder. He made the choice to treat me the way he did, and for no other reason than Lizzie picked me. And she picked me because of a stepdad that encouraged Jennifer to leave me at a rest stop because I cried too much.


    I should really have a sit-down conversation with her.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Come on.¡± I turn toward the girls¡¯ bathroom, surprised to find the door unlocked. When I step inside, I see the splintered door frame and realize that somebody broke in here recently. Not surprising.


    I pause at the entrance, my right hand on the door, my eyes locked on therge stall at the end, the one where I sat and swallowed all those pills.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this,¡± Zack says, stopping behind me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I even suggested wee over here. I don¡¯t know what the fuck I was thinking.¡±


    ¡°You were thinking we needed to face this together,¡± I tell him, moving into the room and walking over to that stall, the ce I almost lost my life. I push the door in and stare at the floor. It smells like bleach, and there¡¯s no debris on the old tiles. The janitor must¡¯ve been in here recently.


    I sit down on the ground next to the toilet and curl my arms around my legs.


    Zack joins me, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. For a whi


    le, we wait there in total silence.

 234

    ¡°How did you know where to find me?¡± I ask finally, because we haven¡¯t really talked about the things that happened here. We¡¯ve touched on them, but I want to confront them and move on.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. I just saw that you weren¡¯t in ss. You were always in ss, so


    ¡­¡± He pauses and exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I went looking really. I ¡­¡± Zack stops talking and runs his fingers through his chocte-brown hair. ¡°I thought maybe you¡¯d be in here crying or something. Then I saw your legs under the stall door.¡±


    I watch him, and I can see that he¡¯s hurting, but I ¡­ I¡¯m not. I try to decide if I¡¯m just numb on the inside, but that¡¯s not it. No, I¡¯m just in a different ce in my life. I¡¯ve gotten stronger. ¡°I saved you, and then I told Lizzie about it.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± I look up and narrow my eyes. ¡°You saved me and then told Lizzie about it? I was under the impression she¡¯d already rescinded her end


    of the bet?¡±


    ¡°No, it was after ¡­¡± Zack looks up at me. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ never mind.¡± I turn my arms over and look for the marks on my wrists. There are faint scars, so faded that I can barely see them anymore. After my failed attempt with the pills, I rested at home for three days, and then I tried to cut my wrists in the shower.


    Dad had just gotten these new kitchen knives with a maic board, and beautiful gxy prints on the des. They had brightly colored handles, and they were sharp as hell. It hadn¡¯t hurt nearly as much as I¡¯d thought, but there was so much blood, just ribbons and ribbons of red, swirling down the drain.


    I panicked then and ran to get Charlie.


    It was the dizziness that really scared me, the weakness that swept over my body. It was that realization that I¡¯d never be anything or anyone in this life, that I¡¯d let Dad down, that I was giving up the most important thing in the world: a chance. I had a chance to turn things around, and I was saying no to that. It¡¯s just not in my nature to give up, I guess. The feelings of loneliness and helplessness though, they were so strong. I wish someone had noticed beforehand how much I was hurting.


    After that, I spent some time recovering in the hospital, and once they decided I was no longer a danger to myself, they sent me home. Zack and I started dating, and then we shared our first kiss. He broke up with me, and that was that. I didn¡¯t see him anymore.


    Not until he stepped out of that limo outside Burberry Prep.


    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± he asks me, and I look up, remembering him pulling my body against his, his fingers opening my mouth, making me throw up. I sobbed and sobbed as he rocked me, my fingers clinging to his shirt. He brought me that low. For a bet. For a game. For the fucking Infinity Club.


    ¡°How did you feel when you found me in here like that? What was going through your head?¡±


    Zack curls his arms around his legs and rests his chin on his knees. His gaze is so far away, I can tell he¡¯s not here in the moment with the current me, but rather in the past with the girl he tried so hard to destroy.


    ¡°Shame. Anger. Hatred. Not toward you though, but toward myself. I don¡¯t know if you remember me screaming. I don¡¯t think I stopped until they took you away, and I punched the wall so hard I broke my knuckle.¡± He sits


    up and points at a tile, still cracked from that incident so long ago. It¡¯s like life, I guess, how one small action can change the fate of the world forever.


    ¡°And your grandfather ¡­ why did he cut your parents off in the first ce?¡± Zack¡¯s mouth tightens into a thin line, and he looks away, focusing on a dick drawn in Sharpie next to the toilet. It says Emily Loves Brad¡¯s Cock. I stand up and dig around in my purse for a moment, pulling out my own permanent marker and scratching the words out with the squeak of pen on tile.


    ¡°My dad, and his dad, they don¡¯t exactly see eye to eye on ¡­ well, anything. Politics, religion, economics. They¡¯re pr opposites. They got in some huge fight over the direction of thepany. My dad never joined the Infinity Club. He wanted to make an honest living with the business. My grandpa ¡­¡± Zack scoffs as I turn back to look at him. ¡°He said there was no chance to make real money without the Infinity Club. He¡¯s right, by the way.¡±


    Zack stands up and leans back against the wall as I toy with the idea of writing a few choice phrases on the tiles myself. But then I just feel bad for the janitor and end up tucking the pen away again.


    ¡°He¡¯s right about the money, that is. But he never should¡¯ve pushed me to join, and my dad never should¡¯ve let him.¡± Zack stares at the floor for a moment, and when he lifts his gaze to mine, I can see the worry there, the worry that I¡¯ll never truly be able to forgive him and Lizzie for what they did. ¡°I was young, and stupid. If I could go back in time, I wouldn¡¯t do it again. I¡¯d go to Lower Banks High instead. My only regret would be that I didn¡¯t get to go to Burberry with you.¡±


    ¡°Miranda says you¡¯re too perfect,¡± I tell him, turning around and trying to gauge his reaction. ¡°She says you do all the right things and say all the right things, but that you¡¯re probably full of shit.¡±


    Zack grins and shrugs his shoulders.


    ¡°She¡¯s probably right. Marnye, I¡¯m not a nice person. I¡¯m learning, but ¡­ I still have a long way to go.¡± He exhales and his grin fades into a tempered smile. ¡°Do you want to grab the food I got from the Station and walk over to the elementary school? I¡¯ll push you on the swing and we can eat silver dor pancakes on the pic tables?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen all I need to see here,¡± I say, letting Zack put an arm around me and lead me back outside and over to the fence. Just before I


    climb through, I look across the campus onest time, say a silent goodbye, and leave Lower Banks Middle Schoo


    l behind for thest time.From N?velDrama.Org.

 235

    Charlie wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled with the idea of me going to a rock concert with a bunch of dudes, but I think having Miranda and Lizzie there mollified him a bit. That, and he gave me the whole you¡¯ll be eighteen soon talk again. Pretty sure the hidden undertones to that conversation were I¡¯m not going to be around forever, so you need to make smart choices as an adult. I chose to ignore that part. Well, just the not going to be around forever bit. I try to


    make smart choices always.


    The tour bus is pretty much just a rich person¡¯s version of an RV. I mean, I like it, but it doesn¡¯t wet my panties.


    ¡°Most girls get soaked when they look at this thing,¡± Zayd is saying, sitting on the counter and drinking a beer. I keep waiting for us to hit a pothole, so I can see his arrogant rock star ass go flying. I¡¯ve already threatened to film it and post it on YouTube.


    ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯m not most girls,¡± I quip back, enjoying the red leather bench seat I¡¯m lounging on. With Creed on my right and Windsor on my left, I feel like a freaking princess.


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re different than most girls for sure,¡± Zayd says, voice


    softening, green eyes going half-lidded. That sensual look of his onlysts so long as it takes Miranda to chuck her empty beer bottle at him. He dodges it and it plunks into the sink. ¡°What the fuck was that for?¡±


    ¡°Saying someone isn¡¯t ¡®like most girls¡¯,¡± Miranda starts, making little quotes with her fingers, ¡°is misogynistic as fuck. It implies there¡¯s something wrong with being like a girl in the first ce. Don¡¯t do it.¡±


    Zayd snaps his fingers, bounces off the counter, and disappears into the back to dig through one of the drawers. When hees back, he¡¯s halfway to taking his shirt off.


    My eyes skim his tattooed body as he tears his top off and reces it with a loose ck tank that says Feminist AF in white cursive on the front. My mouth breaks into a huge grin, and Zayd grins right back at me.


    ¡°Pretty fantastic, huh?¡± he asks as Windsor sips his tea and studies him. ¡°I¡¯d wear it,¡± he adds, shrugging as Tristan stares into his own beer and


    says nothing. He¡¯s been so quiet, so withdrawn. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s still reeling from everything that happened at Vanderbilt Manor. He was certain he wasn¡¯ting back to Burberry, and then Windsor swept in and took care of it like he does everything.


    I¡¯m worried it¡¯s starting to wear on him.


    ¡°You¡¯re trying way too hard to be cool. In reality, you¡¯re just a douchebag like all the rest of us.¡± Creed leans back and curves his arm over the back of the seat, trailing his fingers across my shoulder and making me shiver. I nce his way and his pale blue eyes catch on mine. I can¡¯t we believe we spent our virgin night together. My breathing picks up slightly, but I look away before I end up embarrassing myself.


    Luckily, it¡¯s only a four hour ride to get the rest of the band, and then another couple hours to get to the venue. I¡¯m not sure if I could handle the tension for much longer than that. Lizzie barely looks at me now, but she won¡¯t leave Tristan alone.


    I have this irrational urge to pry her away from him.


    He, on the other hand, doesn¡¯t seem to be bothered by her constant proximity. My hands curl into fists, fingernails digging into the denim of my jeans. Don¡¯t me her, Marnye. It¡¯s his choice. If he wants Lizzie by his side then ¡­


    ¡°Am I going to hate your band members as much as I hate you?¡± Zack asks, raising both of his dark brows. He¡¯s dressed in a tight ck shirt and jean shorts, his letterman jacket tossed aside for the summer heat. It¡¯s been an unusually warm season for our area, like concerningly warm. At least we have AC in both this silly bus and my dad¡¯s house. The Train Car was sort of


    hit or miss. We had to use either those portable units or the janky window ones. Oftentimes they¡¯d work for a few weeks and then conk out.


    ¡°If by hate, you mean love with your whole heart and soul, then yes,¡± Zayd says, sweeping over to the door as the bus rolls to a stop. He¡¯s practically giddy, running his inked hands down the front of his loose tank. It¡¯s got those big armholes that show off his lean, muscr form underneath. He¡¯s just covered in art, enticing my eye to travel the smooth lines of his body looking for more.


    I liken Zayd to a poisonous tree frog (I¡¯ve told him this, by the way) because he¡¯s very pretty to look at, but he¡¯s deadly to touch.


    He nces over his shoulder suddenly, green eyes bright as jewels, a crooked, goofy smile on his pretty mouth. The ck rings pierced through either side of his lower lip and eyebrow add this slight edge to all of his cute. And he really is, cute I mean.


    ¡°Hey Charity,¡± he says, and Zack makes this irritated sound under his breath.


    ¡°Yes, Zayd-Gets-the-Girls-Made?¡± I ask, blinking myshes prettily. He raises both brows at me as Creed snorts.


    ¡°That¡¯s seriously the worst bad boy nickname known to man. Why don¡¯t you just call yourself Two-Pump-Chump? That has more oomph somehow.¡±Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t be jealous, man,¡± Zayd says, leaning his palms on the table and giving me this super saucy look. ¡°If Charity¡¯s heard that awful nickname, then that means she¡¯s been lookin¡¯ me up online, eh?¡± Zayd ducks down suddenly, and a small squeal escapes me as he drags me under the table and pulls me out, swinging me up into his arms. ¡°Did you need spank-bank material, Working Girl?¡±


    ¡°You are so gross,¡± I groan, but he¡¯s at least partially right. I did look him up and find that horrible, awful, not-even-a-very-good-rhyme nickname. There are entire threads online of girls who imed they¡¯ve slept with him.


    Just thinking about it pisses me off.


    ¡°Guys!¡± Zayd shouts as the door opens and this huge dude with a beard walks in. ¡°I got me a proper girlfriend!¡± He lifts me up, andughter spills from my throat. I can¡¯t help it. Besides the fact that we¡¯ve got some sort of crazy, natural chemistry, this is why I liked him so much during first year. He¡¯s got a natural charm-when he¡¯s not being a to


    tal bully, that is.

 236

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the poor girl you tortured, is it?¡± Beard Guy grumbles, crossing his arms over his lumberjack-like chest. He gives me a sympathetic sort of look. ¡°If you are, then I¡¯m sorry. If you¡¯re not, then ¡­ scratch what I just said.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right, that would be me,¡± I say as a boy with electric blue haires up next, followed by a brte with frosted blond tips, a sweatband pushes his short hair into spiky little bits on the top of his head. All three of them are attractive in their own ways, but none of them are my type. Thank goodness, right? You already have five boyfriends. I think that¡¯s enough.


    But as I said, there¡¯s no logic in a broken heart. None in a lovesick one either.


    ¡°This is your girlfriend?¡± Blue Hair asks, pointing past me to the other girls. ¡°Then who are these other two beauties?¡± Zayd nces over his shoulder like he¡¯s forgotten Miranda and Lizzie entirely. Lizzie. To be quite honest, I¡¯m not even sure why she¡¯s here. Andrew isn¡¯t, and we¡¯re much closer than me and Lizzie. Stop being a brat, Marnye.


    ¡°Miranda Cabot, Idol of Burberry Preparatory Academy,¡± Miranda announces, rising to her feet and tossing her white-blond hair in a shiny sheet. ¡°Hardcore lesbian, not at all interested in you.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Blue Hair says, ncing over at Lizzie, his brown eyes sparkling. ¡°And you are ¡­?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my girlfriend¡¯s other boyfriend¡¯s ex-girlfriend,¡± Zayd says, and his friends look at him like he¡¯s lost his damn mind. ¡°Yeah, I forgot to mention that I¡¯m like, poly or something now.¡± Zayd gestures in the direction of the table with his chin. ¡°Starting with the English bloke on the end, that¡¯s Windsor, you guys know Creed, Zack the football douche, and then Tristan.¡± ¡°Your girlfriend has five boyfriends?¡± Blond Tips asks, and Zayd shrugs. I can feel his inked fingers digging into my thigh, and it¡¯s making me feel warm in ces that don¡¯t need heating up in my current situation. ¡°About time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. Wee, Marnye, I¡¯m


    Aiden. The ass with the blue hair is Benji, just the like dog-¡±


    ¡°Hey, fuck you,¡± Benji says, grabbing some beers from the fridge and setting them on the table.


    ¡°-and the huge dude with the beard is Bern.¡± Aiden finishes and then moves over to the table to grab a beer, checking Lizzie out unashamedly. She stares up at him with her amber eyes, and then scoots closer to Tristan. He


    doesn¡¯t seem to notice, narrowing his gorgeous gray gaze on the band. ¡°So, whose ex are you?¡± Aiden continues, popping the top on one of the beers with the keychain on his belt before he offers it up to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m, well,¡± Lizzie starts, and her gaze drifts over to mine, like she¡¯s searching for the right words to say. I have nothing to give her. ¡°Tristan and I were together-¡±


    ¡°Tristan, right,¡± Aiden says, and then he looks at the Vanderbilt King like he wishes he could strangle him. ¡°We¡¯ve met Tristan before. Can¡¯t say I was impressed during any of our previous meetings. Didn¡¯t you once fuck a girl Zayd brought back to the bus while he was in the bathroom?¡±


    Wow. Stuff I didn¡¯t want to know.


    ¡°I¡¯d literally forgotten your existence,¡± Tristan says, his voice dark, expression darker. ¡°Some two-bit bassist that can be reced by spitting into a crowd. Forgive me if I don¡¯t swoon.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Aiden says with augh, turning his attention to Creed. ¡°Whatever. I remember I hated both of you. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s always sleeping, right?¡± Creed narrows his own gaze, much like a cat, but says nothing, his fingers tapping an annoyed rhythm on the back of the bench.


    ¡°Well, Tristan, you might not be swooning, but what about your ex-girl here?¡± Benji adds and Miranda graciously gets up, so he can slide into her spot next to Lizzie. ¡°What do you say, ex-girl?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely avable,¡± Lizzie says, ncing over at Tristan. He looks back at her, but says nothing again. Nothing. Why isn¡¯t he saying anything?! ¡°I¡¯ve just confessed my love to Tristan. I¡¯m waiting on an answer.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, the plot thickens,¡± Aiden says, ruffling his frost-tipped hair. He nces up at Zayd who¡¯s still holding onto me. His fingers, however, seem to have tightened just slightly. ¡°Man, this is going to be a long trip, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Congrattions on your new girlfriend,¡± Bern says, giving Zayd a dark sort of look. ¡°Try not to fuck this rtionship up, okay? She¡¯s a good one, I can tell.¡± He smiles at me and then moves over to grab a beer.


    Zayd and I exchange a look, and he gives me a sly half-smirk.


    ¡°I would¡¯ve told Lizzie to fuck off by now,¡± he whispers, and I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze.


    The concert venue is this massive celebrity-owned ranch that I quickly find out belongs to the one and only Billy Kaiser. It¡¯s quite beautiful, that perfect Southern California vista of lush desert hills, dotted with blooming cacti and bushes covered in purple flowers. I¡¯m guessing if this dry heat keeps up for much longer, thendscape will change dramatically. For now though, thend¡¯s enjoying the benefits of a recent summer shower.


    ¡°You dad doesn¡¯t care that you¡¯re using this ce for a concert?¡± I whisper as we walk into the massive foyer with the curving staircase. The decor is Western themed, specifically expensive movie memorabilia that¡¯s disyed behind ss with little cards. A vague memoryes to me of that first Infinity Club party when Zayd and Creed bet each other that Lizzie would show up. What was the prize? A cowboy hat? No, no cowboy boots.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    Interesting.


    Of course, then Creed said he wanted to fuck a cowgirl which I know now is a total lie ¡­


    ¡°Dad lets his friends have concerts out here all the time,¡± Zayd says, giving me a weird sort of look. He clomps up the steps in his sea green boots, a perfect match to his hair, and turns around with one inked hand curled over the banister. ¡°Well,e on, Charity, I want to show you my room.¡± Zayd gives me this exaggerated little wink and takes off.


    ¡°#TeamCreed,¡± Miranda whispers, but then she pushes me lightly in the back. ¡°You go, I¡¯ll watch Lizzie.¡±


    ¡°I-¡± I start to tell her that I don¡¯t need her to watch Lizzie for me when I turn and see Lizzie¡¯s hands on Tristan¡¯s tie. He¡¯s looking right at me, too, and there¡¯s a sort of challenge in his face that makes my stomach hurt. Maybe he¡¯s ¡­ what if he likes me and Lizzie both? I mean, I have a crush on five guys, so why would it matter if he liked another girl?


    My stomach roils with angst, and I take off up the steps, past Zack and Creed, and all the way to


    the top where Zayd¡¯s waiting.

 237

    ¡°Wee to Chateau Kaiser,¡± he purrs in that velvety rockstar voice of his, opening the door to a wing. Yeah. Not a room. A wing. My mouth drops open as I start down the hall and Zayd steps in behind me, closing the door softly. ¡°I¡¯ve got a music room, a bedroom, a sitting room, a game room, and a bathroom up here.¡±


    I touch my fingers to one of the frames on the wall. There¡¯s a chubby faced little boy with a woman¡¯s arms around him. They have the same nose and the same full mouth. I nce back and Zayd¡¯s face falls slightly.


    ¡°My mom,¡± he says, padding over to stand beside me. ¡°She was a groupie for Dad¡¯s band.¡± He taps the ss with a ck painted fingernail and his face falls. ¡°He married her, but thatsted for all of a few years because, well, you know, my dad¡¯s a fucking druggie whore.¡± Zayd scrubs his hand down his face.


    ¡°So they got divorced?¡± I ask, ncing over my shoulder and studying the harsh lines of Zayd¡¯s expression. The emotion is beyond genuine; he misses his mother, wherever she is.


    ¡°No, she just left. They never actually got a divorce. She was trying to get custody of me, but then she ¡­ you know, she died.¡± Zayd pushes away from the wall and heads down the hall, opening thest door on the right and leaning against the jamb, his strong, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. ¡°Youing in or what, Charity? I promise I don¡¯t bite-unless asked, of course.¡±


    I smile slightly and let my fingers trail down the side of the picture to hang at my side before joining him. I want to ask more about his mom, but maybe Zayd isn¡¯t ready to share just yet?


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I murmur, stepping into the room and letting my eyes wander the massive wall of guitars. Like, literally there are probably a hundred hanging there, starting right at floor level and going all the way up to the soaring ceiling. ¡°This is insane,¡± I whisper as Zayd moves over and grabs an acoustic guitar off the wall, sitting down on the red sofa nearby. He strums his fingers across the strings and hums under his breath, rocking back and forth slightly with the music.


    ¡°Marnye, I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re in my room,¡± he purrs, and I feel my face split into a grin. ¡°I must be the luckiest ass alive.¡± Zayd drags thisst word out in a soft coo that brings chills up all over my skin. ¡°How could you


    possibly forgive an idiot like me? And did you ever try the pot choctes I made?¡± He pauses and raises both brows.


    My cheeks flush, and I bite my bottom lip.


    ¡°I gave them to my dad because ¡­ I read some stuff about marijuana and cancer, and ¡­¡± Zayd grins and sets the guitar aside.


    ¡°Hey, Charity, you don¡¯t have to exin, okay? I made those choctes for you. I¡¯m d you were able to give them to your dad.¡± Zayd stands up and moves over to this gorgeous dresser that I know must¡¯ve cost a fortune; it¡¯s all shiny and shecked and modern looking. It doesn¡¯t quite titite my architectural senses the way old things do, but it¡¯s beautiful nheless. ¡°I¡¯ve got some pre-rolls though?¡± he says, holding up a stic tube.


    He hands it over to me, and I turn it in a circle. Ah. Right. A pre-roll is literally a marijuana joint that¡¯s been rolled by the dispensary, and purchased ready to smoke. Charlie gets these all the time; smoking pot is supposed to help with the tumors in his lungs.


    My heart clenches tight, and I feel this sudden rush of guilt for being here when I should be at home with my dad.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zayd says, taking the tube gently from my fingers. He tucks it


    into his pocket and then puts his hands on my shoulders, gripping them tightly and looking into my eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t feel guilt for living your life and being a teenager. Your dad doesn¡¯t want you to sit at home and pine over him. If he did, he wouldn¡¯t have told you to go. I might not know the guy very well, but the way he told us all off that day in your room ¡­ I get the idea that he isn¡¯t a man who lies and bullshits.¡±


    Iugh, but it¡¯s a bit teary.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right. Charlie is a man of few words, but the ones he says, he means.¡±


    ¡°Two nights here, and I¡¯ll take you right back. Then I¡¯m gonna chill at my dad¡¯s ce in Cruz Bay until school starts. I¡¯m not leaving your side, okay?¡± Zayd leans in and kisses me before I can respond, the sensation sweeping down from my lips and all the way to my toes. He pulls back and grins. ¡°Let¡¯s party tonight, rock out tomorrow, and worry about life the next day. What do you say?¡±


    Music throbs from beneath our feet, and I look down before turning my gaze back to Zayd¡¯s.


    ¡°Party?¡± I ask, because I hadn¡¯t really thought that far ahead.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Zayd says, standing back up and gyrating his body in time to the hip-hop music that¡¯s being sted downstairs. He gets in close and grabs me, encouraging me to move in time with him. He¡¯s a seriously freaking talented dancer. ¡°What would an Afterglow concert be without a proper pre and after-party?¡±


    We dance for a minute, and I let Zayd twirl me in a circle before he pulls me close again. It¡¯s ¡­ maybe less like dancing and more like sex there for a minute. Our pelvises gyrate together, and my body begins to throb. Now that I¡¯m not a virgin anymore, it¡¯s like my body¡¯s been awoken to the pleasures of sex and can¡¯t be put back to sleep.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. I¡¯m taking you downstairs and showing you off.¡± Zayd grabs my hand and drags me out of his wing and into a suddenly bustling mansion. He moves up to the edge of the banister and throws his arms up. ¡°Wee partygoers!¡± he shouts, and his million dor voice cuts through the hubbub of the ever-growing crowd; it¡¯s almost wall-to-wall people already and they just keep streaming in the door. ¡°Booze and smokes in the lounge, snacks in the kitchen, and clothes optional in the pool!¡±


    He turns back around as I raise my brows and Mirandaes up the stairs


    with her suitcase.


    ¡°Did you pack any party dresses?¡± she asks me, voice barely audible over the noise.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Um, what do you take me for?¡± I reply, feeling my heartbeat pick up speed. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly expect a party tonight, but I knew there¡¯d be one tomorrow. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t take too long, babe,¡± Zayd says, turning and hopping up on the banister in a way that seriously concerns me. But then, I figure this is his house and he¡¯s probably done this before. I refuse to be a wet nket, no fucking way. If I¡¯m going to be one of the Idols of Burberry Prep, the Bitch of the Bluebloods, I have to act the part. If I¡¯ve got control of the school, I can put a stop to the bullying. ¡°I¡¯m going to crown you Queen of the Elite tonight, my darling. Mark my fucking words!¡±


    ¡°Zayd!¡± I scream as he lets himself fall back and thennds in the crowd, surfing along raised arms toward the entrance to the living room. My heart is pounding like crazy, and it¡¯s not helped when Lizziees up the steps with a dress in a garment bag tucked over her arm.


    ¡°Thought we could make an Idol entrance? You can bet that even if the Harpies aren¡¯t here, they¡¯ll see videos and pics; they¡¯ll know all about it. United front?¡± She puts her hand out, and Miranda grudgingly puts hers over the top. I personally can¡¯t believe my boyfriend just threw himself off a second story balcony, but I grab on and hold tight anyway.


    The Idol girls of Burberry Prep, just the way Tristan set us up. Let¡¯s see how well this works.

 238

    I¡¯ve packed Zayd¡¯s red dress for the asion, the short, tight little number crawling up my thighs as I fidget and let Miranda put the finishing touches on my hair. I had it cut fresh just before we left, but it was mostly a trimming and a shaping. I¡¯m adding on just a little length.


    ¡°There,¡± Miranda deres, spinning a big ringlet around her finger and letting it bounce against my head. ¡°We¡¯ll fix your lipstick, and get you some hairspray.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just hairspray me to death?¡± I ask with a smile, but Miranda steps back and gives me this look. It¡¯s a fierce look, too, paired with the dramatic smoky eye, the waves of shining blond hair, and the short sapphire dress she¡¯s got on. If I were into girls, I would marry Miranda tonight in that dress.


    ¡°For your thighs, not your head,¡± she says, reaching down and lifting my dress just enough that my ckce panties show. She sprays my thighs while I choke in surprise, and then tugs the dress back down. ¡°Keeps it from riding up.¡± Miranda shakes the can and then passes it over to Lizzie who¡¯s got a gold party dress on with loose sleeves covered in tiny ss beads. ¡°I read online that gymnasts use the same technique to keep their leotards in ce. Not sure if it¡¯s true or not though.¡±


    ¡°You learn something new every day,¡± I say as Miranda makes me pout my lips so she can freshen my lipstick up.


    ¡°Now close your eyes.¡± I do as she says, and then flinch when she hairsprays my face.


    ¡°You¡¯re like the dad on My Big Fat Greek Wedding who sprays Windex on everything. Stop that.¡± I wave her away and open my eyes, blinking at myself in the giant mirror on the wall opposite the vanity. We¡¯re in one of the upstairs guest wings. Yeah, not rooms but wings again. It¡¯s crazy. My entire house could fit in this one guest suite.


    I run my hand down the front of the red dress, and hope like hell that it doesn¡¯t piss Creed off too much. I¡¯m nning on wearing his to the next party. I wore Tristan¡¯s to that nightclub a few weeks ago, but I¡¯d like to wear it to an event with him, too. Even though the guys were pricks, I don¡¯t think I should¡¯ve picked between them during first year.


    ¡°You look like a fucking model,¡± Miranda says as Lizziees to stand beside me, smiling softly. We still haven¡¯t talked yet about her confession. I¡¯m not even sure how to bring it up. In any case, tonight is not that night. ¡°Don¡¯t you think, Lizzie? It¡¯s no wonder she¡¯s got five guys drooling after her.¡± Miranda drapes herself over my shoulders and gives me a sweet- scented kiss on the cheek. ¡°Now, let¡¯s go y some Burberry Prep assholes.¡± ¡°How many of our fellow students do you think are going to be here


    tonight?¡± I ask and Miranda gives me a strong look.


    ¡°As many as can make it-or are allowed in the door.¡± She smiles and grabs my arm and then encourages me to take Lizzie¡¯s on the other side. Guess presenting a solid front is more important than her hatred for Lizzie. A hatred I¡¯m still not entirely sure I understand. Either it¡¯s just solidarity for my sake or ¡­ maybe something else.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do this,¡± I whisper, feeling a nervous flutter in my belly. I¡¯m a fourth year at Burberry Preparatory Academy.


    I¡¯m dating the five hottest guys in school.From N?velDrama.Org.


    And now, I¡¯m supposed to help rule over all of it. Wish me luck.


    We walk out and down the hall, only to find Andrew waiting for us just inside the hall door. He¡¯s got on a sharp white suit that makes him look a bit like James Bond, especially with his slicked back hair. He whistles when he sees us and pushes off the wall to stand up straight.


    ¡°Holy hell, girls,¡± he says, and then he gives all three of us kisses on the cheek. He¡¯se a long way since his first year when he was sneaking off


    to kiss Gary Jacobs in the woods. I wonder if he¡¯s told his parents yet? ¡°You all look amazing.¡± He opens the door and gestures for us to step out onto the foyer together.


    Zayd is waiting ¡­ surrounded by a bunch of girls.


    I raise my brows as I step out, and they all scatter as Zayd stands up, his eyes widening when he sees me. He¡¯s still wearing the Feminist AF tank, but he¡¯s jazzed up his hair and added a dash of eyeliner.


    ¡°Marnye fucking Reed,¡± he growls, moving over to the top of the steps and cupping his hands around his mouth. ¡°Make way for the Idols, folks. Your queen has arrived.¡± Zayd takes me by the arm, leaving Miranda and Lizzie behind us as wee down the steps.


    Everyone is staring at us; everyone is looking.


    It¡¯s something I never really wanted, but now that I have it, I¡¯m going to use my position for good. Because next year, there¡¯s going to be another student whoes into Burberry Prep with the Cabot Schrship Award, and I want the way paved for whoever that person is.


    The other boys are waiting at the bottom of the staircase, fanned out in various states of dress: a zer, t-shirt, and cks for Tristan; tight shirt and jean shorts for Zack; what I swear to God is a polo uniform for Windsor; and a loose white button-up that¡¯s most definitely not buttoned up for Creed.


    ¡°Boys,¡± I greet, and I get theziest, sexiest little smile from Miranda¡¯s twin.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he says, and Windsor grins.


    ¡°Your Majesty, indeed. Marry me and make it official. No pre-nup. You can have half my fortune if we ever get divorced.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re seriously freaking weird, and I love you for it,¡± I say, and then my cheeks me as Windsor¡¯s brows go up. ¡°I mean, like ¡­ not love-love, but


    ¡­ just ¡­¡± I groan and put my hand up to cover my face. I¡¯m not ready for I love you¡¯s just yet.


    Zayd justughs at me and pulls me through the crowd, not caring either way if the others follow along behind us. The partygoers part for us, and I swear, I don¡¯t get jostled by even one elbow. There are faces everywhere that I recognize, some in uniform, some not. There are Coventry Prep kids here, as well as Beverly Hills Prep students. There¡¯s even a group wearing blue zers that say Adamson


    Academy on the breast pocket.

 239

    ¡°Alright, babe,¡± Zayd says, turning and throwing his arms wide to indicate the massive living room with the floor to ceiling windows, the huge taxidermic elk head over the stone firece, and the modern furniture with just a hint of cowboy to it. Yeah, Billy Kaiser¡¯s style is definitely not my style, but I can appreciate it. Well, okay, I can appreciate everything but the decapitated animal head. Just not my thing. ¡°We have our own canna-bar aka cannabis bar for those who just don¡¯t do alcohol. If I may make a rmendation ¡­¡± Zayd scans across the impressive array of marijuana products. There are edibles, joints, tinctures, vape pens, all sorts of stuff.


    Legal age for both booze and marijuana is twenty-one in California. I¡¯d be worried about the cops raiding this ce if I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d probably already been paid off.


    ¡°A rmendation, huh?¡± I ask, because I¡¯ve actually never tried pot before. Like, ever. Yes, I know, I¡¯m the epitome of the quiet study hound, but that¡¯s okay. I¡¯ve always embraced that part of myself. Still, while alcohol is not something I¡¯m ready to try yet, because of my dad¡¯s past issues and all, maybe I¡¯d try weed?


    Zayd picks up a very small piece of chocte between his fingers and


    turns to me, giving me that sexy, cocksure smirk of his. There are literally dozens of girls looking our way and checking him out, a few guys, too. My possessive nature rears its ugly head, and I nce back to find simr situations with the other boys.


    Trust, Mayne, trust, I think as I meet Zack¡¯s eyes and he smiles, lifting up a beer in solidarity. He¡¯s got his letterman jacket on again which, of course, just does all the right things for me. He¡¯s got a girl seated on either side of him, and a couple more gathered in front of him.


    ¡°Sativa?¡± Creed asks, snatching the chocte from Zayd¡¯s fingers and giving him a look. Zayd narrows his eyes slightly, and then shrugs.


    ¡°Hybrid, but sativa dominant. Reviews on Leafly say it¡¯s got an energetic and creative edge.¡±


    ¡°Energetic, huh? I could use a boost right now.¡± Creed pops the chocte in his mouth, and smirks at me as he swallows. ¡°Have you ever seen Pineapple Express, Marnye?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± I say, but I smirk right back because I¡¯m not as ignorant as these boys might think. ¡°But I know Leafly is an app where people can rate how much they like certain strains of marijuana, that is certain breeds, like


    the difference between chardonnay and cabe. I also know that there are two types of marijuana: indica and sativa. In general, indica makes you feel more sleepy and rxed while sativa is more likely to offer an upbeat feeling.¡± I exhale as both Creed and Zayd raise their brows and exchange a look. ¡°What? I had to research this stuff for Charlie.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± Creed says, picking up another piece of chocte. ¡°Just ¡­ you sound so clinical. Loosen up, Marnye-bear.¡± He puts the piece of candy between his lips and leans in, kissing me with it. His tongue pushes the chocte into my mouth, and I have half a second to decide if I want to spit or swallow it.


    Whoa.


    That sounded much dirtier than I intended it to ¡­


    But also ¡­ good question. I¡¯ve never actually, um, had to consider whether I¡¯d spit or swallow.


    I swallow the chocte, and exhale. Based on Dad¡¯s experiences with Mrs. Fleming¡¯s edibles, I know it can take up to two hours for the effects to set in. Please don¡¯t let me regret this.


    ¡°Whoa there,¡± Zayd says, lifting up his palms as Creed leans back,


    smirking and sliding the fingers of one hand into the pockets of his tight ck jeans. ¡°I thought we were dating the good girl, Creed. Guess our new Idol Queen is a little naughty, huh?¡±


    ¡°Oh so naughty,¡± Creed drawls, making a show of licking the chocte from his fingertips, swirling his tongue enticingly around each one. ¡°Now, do you want to know why I brought up Pineapple Express?¡±


    ¡°Because ¡­ you like the movie?¡± I ask as Creed gives Zayd another look. ¡°Maybe not so naughty after all? She¡¯s so damn sweet. Let¡¯s poison her, Zayd.¡± Creed steps forward as Zayd grins and grabs me around the waist. Creed leans in so close that I can smell his cologne, even amongst all the other sweating students, and the acrid burn of alcohol that seems to permeate the air. He¡¯s got that clean linen and sunshine smell, like sheets left to dry in the summer heat. ¡°I mentioned it because at one point, Seth Rogenunches into a rant about how weed makes food taste better, music sound better,


    crappy TV shows seem better ¡­ It makes sex exquisite.¡±


    ¡°Seth Rogen uses the word exquisite?¡± I whisper, and Creed gives me this naughty kitty smile, like a very bad housecat. A very, very bad housecat with ws. Is it wrong that I want to get scratched? That maybe I even want to


    get bitten? ¡°Because I have a hard time believing that.¡± Creed chuckles softly, just enough that his shoulders quiver, and then he shakes his head like he can¡¯t wait to see how this affects me.


    ¡°Just wait until that edible hits you thene find me.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I don¡¯t think so,¡± Zayd whispers, nibbling on my ear and making me shiver. ¡°Fuck off, Cabot. I¡¯m taking Charity here swimming.¡± He grabs me by the arm and pulls me toward the pool. Miranda¡¯s already out there, dancing on a table with a bottle of champagne in one hand. Creed follows along and then pauses with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest as he stops to guard his twin from unruly guys. Jesus, it¡¯s like a rap video in here or something. Or should I say rock video?


    Tristan¡¯s already in the hot tub, his head thrown back on the pavement behind him, his arms stretched out on either side of his body. He must¡¯ve wandered off during the edible conversation because I swear, he was right behind us.


    Windsor and Zack are still close by which is a good thing, too, because I almost lose my shit when I see Lizzie climbing into the hot tub in a tiny bikini and scooting up close to Tristan.


    ¡°What is she doing?¡± I whisper as Windsores up to stand on my right side.


    ¡°She¡¯s fighting, love,¡± he tells me, giving me a look. ¡°She wants him- almost desperately so.¡±Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    I purse my lips and reach down to tear my dress over my head. Zayd and Zack both make shocked noises under their breath, but


    Windsor doesn¡¯t seem surprised.

 240

    This is ridiculous; I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m doing this. I¡¯m not even wearing a bathing suit under my dress, just sexy ck panties and a push-up bra that I don¡¯t even really need. Miranda insisted I wear it though.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I tell the other boys, moving around to climb into the hot tub on Tristan¡¯s other side. He cracks a single gray eye to look at me and then lifts his head up.


    ¡°Is that a bathing suit?¡± The sharp tone of his voice says he doesn¡¯t think it is one.


    ¡°No.¡± That¡¯s all I say, sitting there in the hot, hot water as my body starts to tingle and I realize that this particr edible does not have a two hour activation time. Oh no, it¡¯s much, much faster. Uh-oh. ¡°Also, I just ate my first edible.¡±


    One of Tristan¡¯s perfectly curved dark brows lifts up in surprise. Zayd tosses his shirt aside, peels off his jeans, and ¡­ I nce over and see his dick, right there in my face. Like, literally, he¡¯s just gotten naked and is climbing in the hot tub. I see parts of him I¡¯ve only dreamed of.


    I mean ¡­ did I say dreamed of? Haha, no. Err, well, in the interest of being truthful, I might have.


    Fine, okay, I definitely have dreamed about a naked Zayd Kaiser.


    He¡¯s got a really nice dick, my mind supplies as I catch sight of a small piercing on the tip. My cheeks me as he slides in beside me. This is really looking like deja vu here, I think as I remember sitting naked on Creed¡¯sp in a hot tub very simr to this one.


    ¡°You ate an edible?¡± Tristan asks, blinking at me. ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so?¡± I shrug, trying to look cool. People are staring at me like maybe I am, tucked in a hot tub between one naked guy and another who ¡­ I look down and there¡¯s this brief moment where the bubbles part, and I swear it¡¯s like a pre-destined moment designed to show off Tristan¡¯s cock.


    Oh. Oh my.


    I lounge back in my lingerie and run my tongue over my teeth to make sure there aren¡¯t any lipstick smudges. Windsor, Zack, and eventually Creed and Miranda join us. Creed is desperately trying to wrangle his drunk sister, but I¡¯d rather she sit on the edge of this hot tub than run off into the heat of the party.


    Lizzie stares at me like she¡¯s never seen me before.


    ¡°Oh, this is going to be good,¡± Tristan murmurs, smirking and giving Zayd a look. ¡°I take it this is your doing?¡±


    ¡°Might¡¯ve had a little help from Creed,¡± Zayd says with a shrug, lighting up a joint with a lighter he pulled from his discarded pants¡¯ pocket. He takes a puff and passes it to Windsor. The prince takes two puffs and continues passing. Zack is the only one who declines.


    ¡°Drug testing blows,¡± he says, shaking his head. ¡°And if all goes right these next few games, I¡¯ll be scouted for ¡­ a university.¡± He trails off and looks away, face tight, like he¡¯s deep in thought about something. He¡¯s taken his shirt off and climbed in wearing his shorts. I swear to god, he¡¯s got the widest, sexiest chest I¡¯ve ever seen. It¡¯s pretty obvious he¡¯s a hardcore athlete.


    ¡°We¡¯re poisoning Marnye, slowly but surely,¡± Creed murmurs, grabbing onto Miranda¡¯s arm when she tries to wander off again. She res at him and takes another swig of her champagne.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Poisoning her, huh?¡± Lizzie says with a smile, resting a hand on Tristan¡¯s shoulder. He stiffens up and his face goes very still, but she doesn¡¯t seem to notice. It makes me afraid to touch him. Does he not want to be touched at all? Or maybe ¡­ he just doesn¡¯t want to be touched by her? I can¡¯t tell. I can¡¯t tell! And it¡¯s freaking killing me. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a secret, and not for you to know,¡± Zayd says with a smirk, and I see that cruel streak of his rising to the surface. Lizzie stares him down, narrowing her eyes slightly, and I remember the story about her dating all the boys one fateful summer. Surely that was just a sweet junior high crush sort of a thing, right?


    Lizzie opens her mouth to speak when Zayd¡¯s green eyes lift up and widen. His mouth tightens into a t line.


    ¡°Boys, we¡¯ve got trouble.¡± He shoves up and out of the hot tub, his dick shimmering with warm water and bumping against my elbow. I almost scream, but like, in a good way. Pretty sure the edible is setting in. I feel lightheaded and giddy, like I want tough at everything.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± I echo, way too slow. Windsor is up, too. Even Tristan is standing up and whipping a towel around his body so quickly that I don¡¯t see a thing.


    I nce over and find Harper, Becky, and Ileana standing beside the hot tub. They¡¯ve got a full crew behind them, too.


    My list shes in my mind, like it¡¯s been burned into my brain.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep A list by Marnye Reed


    The Harpies: Harper du Pont, Becky tter, and Ileana Taittinger The Company: Abigail Fanning, Valentina Pitt, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen


    Donner, and Kiara Xiao


    They¡¯re all here, everyst one of them, and then some. They¡¯ve recruited plenty of new students, hungry for a view from the top.


    ¡°What the fuck are you doing in my house? This is most definitely not an Infinity Club party. Get the hell out.¡±


    ¡°Your door security could use some fortifying,¡± Harper says, her hair long and luxurious, fresh extensions in a juicy bloodred color trailing over her shoulders. She¡¯s not the only one: all the girls are sporting either wigs or extensions again. They¡¯re like dandelions, getting trampled down and springing right back up. ¡°We¡¯re here because we¡¯re making a stand.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Tristan asks, voice cool and even. I see his hands quivering as he struggles


    to keep from balling them into fists.

 241

    ¡°Quiet, Working Boy,¡± Harper snaps, her voicemanding authority as she sneers at Tristan. ¡°We weren¡¯t happy with one charity case at our school and now we have two? What are you trying to do, cheapen the reputation of the academy so the rest of us suffer?¡±


    ¡°Oh, but darling, you¡¯ve already done that.¡± Tristan folds one arm over his middle, resting the elbow of the other in the palm of his hand, so he can gesture at her with long, elegant fingers. ¡°Your decorum is poor, your breeding substandard, and quite frankly, you¡¯re a dumb bitch that nobody likes. If you consider yourself one of the best at the academy, then the great reputation of Burberry Prep is already suffering.¡±


    Harper sneers at him and steps forward, but Zayd cuts her off.


    ¡°Get the hell off my property,¡± he snarls, his towel sliding down his hips. It¡¯s about to fallpletely off. I scramble up and out of the water to fix it for him. He shivers when my fingers brush his hips, but his eyes never leave the Harpies and their new Company of poprity ves. Jalen, thest remaining guy, has been joined by a good half-dozen fourth years that I vaguely remember seeing around campus.


    ¡°Oh, we will. Trust me.¡± Harper narrows her eyes on me, but I just stand up straight and put my hands on my hips, dripping wet and wearing lingerie. I don¡¯t even care. Take a fucking picture. ¡°I just wanted to stop in and let you all know that we do not ept the new status quo. If you think this year at the academy is going to be easy, you have another thinging.¡±


    ¡°And if you think,¡± I start, stepping forward and cutting off several of the boys as they start to argue, ¡°that I¡¯m going to allow bullying at my school, you have got a rude awakeninging your way.¡±


    ¡°Your school, huh?¡± Harper asks, and the way she looks at me, I can tell she¡¯s ying for keeps this time. She wants me out of the academy, out of her life, out of her way. And she wants to crush me in the process. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll see about that.¡±


    She hair flips (yes, expertly so) and then saunters off, taking a good portion of the Burberry students behind her. Not as many as I¡¯d feared, but enough that I can¡¯t quite write her off as a threat just yet.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna fucking kill those security guards,¡± Zayd growls, but I curl my arms around his bicep and draw his attention down to me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them bother you,¡± I tell him, mouth pursed tight. ¡°They¡¯ll hang themselves with their own rope. We just have to wait.¡±


    The boys exchange cryptic nces that have me wondering what the hell went on at that Infinity Club meeting. Whatever it is, if their expressions are anything to go by, I should be terrified.


    Only ¡­ I¡¯m not.


    I¡¯m not afraid of Harper or any other bully for that matter. Not anymore.


    ¡°Come on.¡± I drag Zayd back to the hot tub, and the others follow.


    By the time the edible really hits me, the Harpies are long gone.


    I end up in a bed with Creed on one side and Zayd on the other. The music downstairs is still throbbing away, but the sheets feel so good beneath me, and I can¡¯t seem to stopughing.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You are so high,¡± Creed says, but then he grins because he¡¯s high, too. Zayd is watching us from the other side, his head propped in his inked hand. His Never Again tattoo is visible on the side of his neck, and I feelpelled to reach out and touch it, just to see if the ink feels as nice as it looks.


    ¡°Mm,¡± Zayd purrs as my hand slides up the side of his neck. He leans in for a kiss, and I swear, I¡¯ve never felt anything quite like his mouth on mine.


    He tastes just enough like danger to be enticing, but also like surety. I¡¯m positive Zayd is here for me now, really and truly. I don¡¯t think he ever wanted to be anywhere else.


    ¡°You taste good,¡± I tell him as Creed rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. This is the first time I¡¯ve ever really been intimate with one boy while another was close by. It¡¯s ¡­ exciting.


    ¡°Do I?¡± Zayd asks, getting this cocky look on his face that makes me squirm. I¡¯m still dressed in my lingerie and nothing else. It¡¯s dry now, but my hair still feels damp. The lead singer of Afterglow reaches out and curls his fingers in my hair, teasing the rose-gold strands and then leaning down for another kiss, one that goes much deeper, our tongues tangling.


    Next to us, Creed slides his hand in his swim shorts and groans, sending a hot flush through me that I don¡¯t quite know what to do with. I¡¯m still pretty new at this whole sex thing. I mean, a few times with Creed and a few times with Zack does not an expert make.


    Zayd runs his inked hand down my side, over the curve of my waist, resting his palm lightly on my hip. Every ce he touches screams with pleasure, and I realize Creed was right: I feel ten times as sensitive now as I did when I waspletely sober.


    A small moan escapes me as Zayd slides his hand back up, stroking my body and making me quiver.


    ¡°It really is exquisite, isn¡¯t it?¡± I ask, and Zaydughs. The sound is as musical as his songs. I want to listen to them all on repeat, over and over and over again. I giggle, and he grins, leaning in to kiss me on the corbone, trailing his lips down and along thecy line of my bra. The pale rise and fall of my breasts belies my outward calm and shows how truly nervous I am underneath.


    I lean back a little and my body bumps into Creed¡¯s. He groans, and I nce back to see his hand working furiously at pleasuring himself. As I watch, he finishes with a shudder and his body goes limp in the pillows. Pretty sure he¡¯s asleep in like, a minute.


    ¡°The golden rule is: smoke first, drinkter. Creed always drinks then smokes then drinks again. That¡¯s his problem.¡± I nce back at Zayd and find him smirking at me in the darkness. ¡°See, I told him you wouldn¡¯t being to himter.¡±


    ¡°He looked like he was having a good time,¡± I whisper back, realizing in the back of my mind that I¡¯ll probably be mortified to remember this moment in the morning. Right now, it all seems surreal and beyond exciting. I crawl over so that I¡¯m straddling Zayd, putting my palms on his bare, inked chest and then sliding them down. He moans, lifting his hands up to cup my ass. We kiss again, these deep, long, exploratory kisses that feel like they go on for hours.


    But in a good way. In a I never want this to end sort of way.


    ¡°This edible is amazing,¡± I breathe, and Zaydughs, watching me curiously through the moonlight as I move back, putting my lips against the rock-hard lines of his abs. We¡¯re in his bed, in his room, with the window open and a warm So Cal breeze stirring the curtains. I can hear people in the pool, but they¡¯re pretty quiet, far away. They may as well be in another world.


    My tongue slides along the edge of Zayd¡¯s jeans, and then my fingers are popping his fly. I look up at him as I take his shaft in my hand.


    ¡°Holy fuck,¡± he whispers, but then he only lets me get so far as a single lick before he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me up toward his face. ¡°Not when you¡¯re high, not for our first time.¡± Zayd kisses me again and then flips me over, his tongue swirling around mine, his inked fingers sliding between my thighs. He touches one to my heat, and I gasp, curling my fingers around his shoulders. He doesn¡¯t even put them in, just uses my own wetness to tease and stroke me, bringing me to a warm, shuddering orgasm that reminds me very much of Creed.


    Immediately, my eyes feel heavy, and I sigh as Zayd grins and kisses me again, his lip rings making my mouth tingle.


    ¡°Sleep well, Charity. We¡¯ll see about finishing this up in the morning.¡±


    Zayd rxes next to me, and thest thing I remember is seeing his inked fingers curl around the base of his cock.


    After that, it¡¯s noth


    ing but dreams until the sunes up.

 242

    There¡¯s a stage set up about a half mile from the house, and despite the heat, people start lining up before the party even really ends. There are students draped over couches and lying in piles on the floor, most of them hungover or still a little bit stoned. But if they want a good spot in the crowd, they better get up now because the entry line stretches as far as the eye can see.


    ¡°You really are famous, huh?¡± I ask Zayd, ncing over my shoulder as he slips into a white tank with his band logo on the front. It says Afterglow in scrawling cursive with a half-moon, half-sun behind it, gleaming around the edges with, well, a glow.


    He shes me that cocky smile of his.


    ¡°Yeah, well, maybe just a little.¡± He moves over to stand beside me, and I feel myself blushing when I remember my tongue meeting up with his, uh, well ¡­ if I¡¯m not mature enough to say it, then I¡¯m not mature enough to do it: his dick. I almost gave my first blow jobst night. ¡°I¡¯m heading over with the band soon to greet some of the headliners, but there¡¯ll be golf carts and some backstage passes waiting for you.¡± Zayd stands up and sys a palm out on his chest, his sea green hair gleaming in the early morning sunshine. The wicked heat of the day hasn¡¯t quite crept in yet, so it¡¯s still cool enough to be pleasant. ¡°And I¡¯m such a nice guy, I even included extras for your other boyfriends.¡±


    ¡°Nice guys don¡¯t say that they¡¯re nice guys,¡± I tell him, and he smiles, leaning in to pen me against the door with an arm on either side, the cluster of guitar pic nes he¡¯s slipped around his neck swinging forward in the space between us.


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re right: I¡¯m a total asshole. Here¡¯s the thing though ¡­¡± Zayd pauses and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. ¡°I like you enough to try. So,¡± he stands back up and folds his muscr arms over his chest. ¡°Here¡¯s me, trying. Probably failing, but at least the effort¡¯s there.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing great,¡± I tell him, feeling my cheeks flush. ¡°I mean, as long as you¡¯re being yourself. If you¡¯re an asshole, you¡¯re an asshole. Just don¡¯t be a bully.¡±


    ¡°If I were doing great,¡± Zayd says, pausing as he notices Creed working his way over to us in low-slung sweats, a towel flung over his wet blond hair. ¡°Your tongue wouldn¡¯t have even touched the tip.¡±


    ¡°Touched the tip of what?¡± Creed snaps, but then Zayd is justughing and climbing over the edge of the balcony railing before I can stop him. He quite literally dives into the pool and gives me a heart attack as I race over and curl my fingers around the banister, holding my breath until he pops up and swims over to the edge.


    Zayd hauls himself up and then rises to his feet before he shoves another dude in the water and then turns around to wave at me.


    ¡°Still an asshole! Just not to you.¡± He presses kisses to his palms and then flings them my direction, green hair dripping into his face as he makes his way across the courtyard and out a side gate.


    ¡°Tip of what?¡± Creed repeats as I nce over at him, tall and imposing with eyes like chips of ice.


    My face heats, and I look up at the blue, blue California sky. ¡°Erm, would you believe me if I said ¡­ lollipop?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Creed narrows his eyes and huffs. ¡°Unless by lollipop, you mean Zayd¡¯s dick. Surely you noticed the stupid piercing? He¡¯s such a showboating cocksucker.¡± Creed pauses, like maybe he¡¯s reconsidering the use of thatst term. He nces down at me. ¡°Did you-¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I choke out, flushing. ¡°We were both high. He stopped me.¡±


    ¡°He stopped you?¡± Creed asks, and then shakes his head, toweling his gorgeous hair before he tosses it aside, probably for some underpaid maid to


    clean up. It bothers me, so I pick the towel up and bundle it into a basket that¡¯s already got some dirty clothes in it. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°How is that interesting?¡± I ask, and Creed shrugszily, slouching his way over to the bed to lie facedown on it. He doesn¡¯t even seem to care that we¡¯re in Zayd¡¯s room. Or that he came in his pants lying right next to mest night. Apparently the pot doesn¡¯t erase memories the way I¡¯ve heard alcohol does.


    ¡°Just ¡­ I mean, Zayd turning down girls is a new phenomenon.¡±


    ¡°You mean like you being a virgin?¡± I ask, sitting down next to him. He cracks one heavy-lidded eye and looks up at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a virgin anymore,¡± he says, and this cavalier little smile takes over his mouth. ¡°And neither are you. No matter what happens, you¡¯ll probably remember me the rest of your life. I like that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a cocky, arrogant,zy dickhead,¡± I say, but Creed just shrugs again.


    ¡°No arguing that. Should we take a nap before the concert? I don¡¯t even know why we¡¯re up at the butt crack of dawn anyhow. It¡¯s not our show tonight.¡±


    ¡°We could take a nap ¡­¡± I start, and there must be something in my voice because Creed suddenly doesn¡¯t look so sleepy anymore. His cavalier smile turns into a satisfied male smirk as he pushes up and crawls over to me.From N?velDrama.Org.


    We just barely finish in time to get dressed for the start of the show.


    ¡°Gross, gross, gross,¡± Miranda murmurs as I flush, sitting in the back of the golf cart with her and Lizzie while Zack drives. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I walked in and saw that gross, wrinkly butt.¡±


    ¡°My butt is not wrinkly,¡± Creed growls, turning around to give her a look. Zack is so big and muscr that only he and Creed fit in the front seat, while the three of us girls fit easily in the back.


    ¡°Looked that way, pum


    ping up and down like that ¡­¡±

 243

    ¡°Miranda!¡± I shout, putting my hands over my ears. ¡°Please stop.¡±


    Having Miranda walk in on me and her twin for a second time was not pleasant. Guess it serves us right for not checking to see if the door was locked.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Okay, fine, but it still looked wrinkly to me ¡­¡±


    Zack makes a frustrated sounding growl while Lizzie giggles and puts her hand over her mouth. I¡¯m just done with the conversation, so I ignore them all, gaping at the massive, heaving crowd gathering around the stage.


    We follow the other golf cart around to the back where several burly security guards check and recheck our badges before letting us backstage.


    ¡°What a circus,¡± Tristan drawls, like he¡¯s bored out of his mind.


    ¡°Better than a wrinkly butt,¡± Lizzie says, and I swear, she does it on purpose. I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at her, but she¡¯s already breezing past and giggling. Tristan looks at her and then back over at me. If the rumors are true, he hasn¡¯t had sex in ¡­ years, right?


    ¡°Miranda walked in on me and Creed,¡± I tell him, locking eyes with that shimmering silver gaze of his. His jaw tightens, but he doesn¡¯t say a word, waiting for the others to pass before Windsor pauses beside me.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t jealous before,¡± Wind muses, pushing his red hair off his forehead. As per usual, it sticks straight up. ¡°I¡¯m starting to get jealous now. What do you think, Mr. Vanderbilt?¡±


    ¡°Creed¡¯s no threat to me,¡± he says, standing up straight and storming past us while Creed flips him off from behind.


    ¡°Fucking asshole,¡± he drawls, ncing over to gauge my reaction. I¡¯m standing there, taking in the tension and wondering: how much longer can I do this? How much longer can I keep them all before they start to fight with one another?


    ¡°Hey.¡± Zayd appears, grabbing me by the hand and interrupting my train of thought. He¡¯s got sweatbands on his wrists now, and this fierce look to his face thatpletely transforms him. He goes from gorgeous, slightly unattainable, mildly dangerous ¡­ to transcendent. Zayd Kaiser looks like a rock god. He¡¯s in his element, and he¡¯s feeling the vibes of the crowd.


    His energy is infectious.


    Zayd drags me to the edge of the stage where his band members are waiting, and the first group of the night starts to tune their instruments. The


    crowd goes wild in anticipation of the show as Zayd drapes himself over my shoulders, his breath warm against my ear.


    ¡°After the show, I need you to help me fend off groupies, okay?¡± he says, and before I get a chance to open my mouth to ask him about that, the music¡¯s starting, and I can¡¯t hear a damn thing.


    For years, I¡¯ve wanted to go to one of Zayd¡¯s concerts and see him perform.


    Tonight, I¡¯m finally getting that chance.


    The three bands before Zayd¡¯s are good, but their lead singers don¡¯t have that same wild energy that I can feel coursing through him as he touches me, his fingers on every part of my body. I¡¯m wearing an Afterglow tank dress and heels, and it¡¯s like Zayd can¡¯t get enough of me. He basically holds me through all three sets before finally giving me a scorching kiss for luck, and striding out across the stage.


    He tears the microphone from its stand, sweeps his fingers through his green hair, and then shes this ardent look at the crowd that has them screaming.


    ¡°Whoa. If I weren¡¯t gay, I might be switching teams to #TeamZayd.¡±


    Miranda whistles under her breath as Zayd moves up to the front of the stage and nts one of his boots on a speaker.


    ¡°Good evening, California!¡± he shouts, and a ripple of power seems to surge through the crowd. My heart stutters, and I make a small gasping sound that only Zack seems to notice. He nces from me and over to Zayd, watching him with dark, narrowed eyes, taking him in. ¡°Are you ready to get your fucking faces rocked off tonight?!¡±


    The responding shouts are deafening.


    Zayd puts the microphone back on the stand, grabs a lime green guitar shaped like an axe, and strums it. Bern starts up the drums while Aiden ys the bass, and Benji takes up another guitar. I don¡¯t know a lot about rock music per se, but there¡¯s this unforgettable essence in music, something that you learn once and never forget. I might y the harp, but my body resonates with the notes Zayd strums with his fingers.


    He opens with a song that¡¯s a hell of a lot heavier than anything I¡¯m used to listening to, but I like it. Sure, I¡¯ll probably be deaf for a few days after, but ¡­ it¡¯s so worth it.


    ¡°Altered by fire, destroyed by the me, broken by violence, restored in the rain.¡± Zayd screams the lyrics into the mic, dropping his voice low as he strums the guitar with a frantic dance of inked fingers. I shiver, goose bumps springing up across my body as I listen to the words and try to decide if I¡¯ve heard this song from him before. But no ¡­ this is a new one. A smile curves my lips. No ghostwriter penned this tune. ¡°The fall of your tears was the catalyst I craved, the heat of your mouth was the balm that could save. You opened your eyes, and you saw through my pain.¡± Zayd pauses his strumming of the guitar, and then growls into the mic in such a way that I feel every single part of mee to life with a violent surge of want.


    Holy hell.


    Fend off groupies, he said? I can see why.


    ¡°Now dance.¡± Zayd snaps this part off his tongue and twists his finger in a sharp circle, getting the crowd so riled up that a mosh pit forms near the front of the stage. Miranda and I are both screaming now and jumping up and down.


    The energy carries through that song and into the next, when Zayd puts his


    guitar down and takes his performance up to a whole new level, using the entire stage as the canvas for his art. This next tune is much softer than the first, but still wild. He even climbs into the crowd and sings


    as they hold him up like a god.

 244

    ¡°These videos are going to go viral,¡± Miranda shouts, soaked in sweat but grinning like a maniac. She points at the crowd and I see dozens ¡­ maybe more like hundreds of phones up and recording. She¡¯s probably right. ¡°By tomorrow, your boyfriend¡¯s going to be in even higher demand.¡± Miranda squeezes my arm, and I wonder if she means that to beforting ¡­ or terrifying.


    Five hot, rich, talented guys ¡­ I¡¯ve certainly got my hands full.


    ¡°Okay, party-fuckers,¡± Zayd says, panting, his shirt stuck to his body with sweat, green hair stered to his forehead. He reaches up to scrub a hand down his face and smears his eyeliner. ¡°This next song, I wrote for my girlfriend.¡± He points an inked finger in my direction and beckons me out toward him, past the safety of the curtain and into the spotlight.


    ¡°Go!¡± Miranda encourages, pushing me out and making me stumble slightly before Zayd is there, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me into


    the center of the stage. There¡¯s some slight booing from some of the girls, annoying catcalls from some guys, but overall, the crowd seems pretty positive.


    ¡°Marnye Reed, y¡¯all.¡± Zayd is panting as he lifts my arm up high, and I give a little wave to the audience. ¡°She put up with my bullshit, and my bullying, and this song ¡­ it¡¯s just for fucking her, okay?¡± Heughs and the sound travels through me like a shot, warming me up from my very core. ¡°You can listen, but it¡¯s not for you.¡± Zayd chucks some of his rubber arm bracelets into the crowd, the ones that say Afterglow Fangirl on them, before turning to me. ¡°This is a new song, okay? So apologies in advance if I fuck this all the way up.¡± Thisst part is said with the switch on his mic turned off.


    Zayd¡¯s emerald eyes stare down at me as he slides the mic back into its stand and steps back, turning around and heading for a piano at the end of the stage. He beckons me to sit beside him and puts his fingers on the keys.


    ¡°Ready?¡± he asks me, looking down from under those longshes of his, his piercings gleaming in thete afternoon sun as it sinks behind the horizon in a molten orange ball. I nod and Zayd exhales, reaching up to turn on his mic. Tattooed fingers rest above the pearly white piano keys, and he starts off with a slow, easy melody that has the crowd swaying with lighters in their hands. His band backs him up with a rougher, more gritty sound that pairs beautifully with the lilting piano notes. ¡°I¡¯ll never be a nice guy, and I¡¯ll never be a saint, but if you¡¯re game to let me try, I¡¯ll make a valiant change. If you could only love me for the asshole that I am, then I swear to God I¡¯d be the man you want to im.¡± Zayd pauses and lifts his hands off the keys, ncing back at his band. ¡°Okay, guys, hit it.¡±


    The other three boys hit their instruments hard, rocking the stage as Zayd stands up on the bench, taking his mic with him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye, but I do feel bad,¡± he croons, sitting down on the top of the piano, sweat dripping down the beautiful inked nes of his skin as he rakes his fingers through his hair and makes it stand up straight. ¡°If there¡¯s any chance of trust, can you give me another chance? There¡¯s so much fear inside, no ce to hide. But can you see the real me?¡±


    I¡¯m such a sucker for a good apology, I think as Zayd reaches out, takes my hand, and pulls me into hisp. He¡¯s so freaking warm, and he¡¯s shaking, too, fueled by the adrenaline of the crowd. I swear, it transfers into me as I


    sit there, listening to him sing a song he wrote, feeling the bass and the drums pummel through my body.


    His cock is hard underneath me; I can feel it when I adjust myself, the tension between us stringing taut, an almost painful need overwhelming me as I touch my fingers to the sweaty curves of his biceps, basically feeling him up while he sings. I¡¯m feeling bold, too, so I lean forward and lick the sweat from his throat, causing Zayd to stumble over the words he¡¯s singing. Doesn¡¯t matter though because I can tell he likes it, his body vibrating as he belts the song out and slides a hand up my back. His fingers sneak around and grab my breast, right in front of everyone.


    My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely hear anything else. It¡¯s like I¡¯m cut off from the rest of the world, wrapped in a rock god¡¯s aura. Zayd¡¯s eyes close as he sings the ending of the song, ¡°can you see the real me?¡± and then drops the mic and picks me up in his arms, hopping off the piano as the crowd screams and surges forward, pushing against the metal fence that blocks off the front of the stage.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take a quick break, shall we?¡± he asks, and I nod.


    Zayd and I barely make it backstage before we¡¯re tearing at each other¡¯s clothes, kissing violently, tongues tangling. His hands are sweaty as he yanks my tank dress over my head and tosses it aside, palming both my breasts in his colorful hands. I¡¯m backed up to a speaker, so I scoot back until I¡¯m sitting on it, my own hands fighting with Zayd¡¯s tight jeans.


    There¡¯s nobody over here, behind the stage and around the corner of the faux wall erected between the row of portable toilets and one of the staff parking areas. That doesn¡¯t mean there won¡¯t be somebody here shortly.


    We don¡¯t exactly have a lot of time. But that¡¯s okay.


    I¡¯m not here for a long, drawn-out session of experimental hands and wandering mouths.


    Zayd and I are finally going to let loose on this chemistry that¡¯s been guing us since day one, when he walked into Ms. Felton¡¯s homeroom and looked me over with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯d fuck you, if you were game.¡± One of the first things he ever said to me. Back then, I wanted to kill him.


    Now ¡­ I¡¯m game for sure.


    Those pretty inked fingers of his slip into his pocket for a condom, and he¡¯s got it on in half a heartbeat, yanking me close and looking me right in


    the face.


    ¡°Tell Zack and Creed I¡¯m sorry,¡± he growls, his voice still stuck halfway between speech and song.


    ¡°For what?¡± I whisper, shaking all over, my hands curled in his sweaty tank.


    ¡°For putting them to shame. Let me show you how a rock star fucks.¡± Zayd pushes aside my panties, and I gasp. He cocks a sharp smirk on those perfect lips before he slides into me hard and fast. My head falls back, and I find that I can barely breathe. ¡°Look at me, Marnye,¡± he purrs as one of the other bands fills the sudden gap onstage, and music surges through me like a storm.


    My eyes feel impossible to keep open, but Zayd curls his fingers in my hair and pulls me close, kissing me and tasting like fresh sweat and the orange Powerade he was drinking onstage. His right hand slides up and grasps my breast through my bra, kneading the soft flesh as he fucks me against the speaker.


    I¡¯ve got so much adrenaline in me, I¡¯m shaking all over. But holy crap, that feels good. Zayd licks up the side of my face and bites my earlobe, causing my back to arch and ripples of pleasure to arc through me. He¡¯s moving so hard and fast, working his pelvis in just such a way that he stimtes every single part of me.


    The sound of the crowd turns into a background noise to our fucking, this easy to ignore rumble that blends into this almost surreal sort of moment.


    He¡¯s big, too. I might be soreter, I think as I squeeze my legs tighter around him. That piercing I saw earlier, I can feel it, even through the condom. There¡¯s a split-second there where I worry it might break, but surely Zayd Kaiser knows what he¡¯s doing? God, it sure feels like he knows what he¡¯s doing. The little metal piece stirs shivers of pleasure in me that are as foreign as they are wee.


    My arms go around Zayd¡¯s neck, and I end up biting his shoulder-hard.From N?velDrama.Org.


    He groans as I finish, my body locking around him, drawing his own pleasure out in a guttural male sound that¡¯s not quite as practiced and polished as the lyrics he sang for me onstage.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Zayd moans, breathing hard and gathering me up in his arms. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    We both freeze as a voice draws us out of the moment, and I realize that I¡¯m not wearing my dress anymore, and that Zayd is still very much buried inside of me.


    It¡¯s Tristan.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got people looking for you,¡± he says, like he¡¯s bored shitless. The way he looks at the two of us ¡­ I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s furious ¡­ or like, if he doesn¡¯t care. He¡¯spletely shut down. ¡°Hurry up.¡±


    He turns and leaves as Zayd curses under his breath and slides out of me, taking off the condom and finding the nearest trash can while I scramble around for my dress. Just as I¡¯m about to pull it over my head, he grabs the fabric around my wrists, effectively trapping me with the dress covering my eyes.


    ¡°You promised to help me fend off groupies tonight. Don¡¯t forget.¡± I make a sound of acknowledgement, and Zayd cuts me off by kissing me with this hard, possessive edge to his lips. ¡°You¡¯re my only groupie now, Charity.¡± He releases me, and I yank the dress down as he takes off for the stage.


    I follow behind, pausing next to Tristan near the steps and giving him a look.


    ¡°Are you-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care who you fuck, Marnye,¡± he says, and then he takes off and disappears for the rest of the night. If I hadn¡¯t seen Lizzie dancing with a group of her old Coventry Prep friends, I¡¯d worry they¡¯d gone somewhere together.


    As things stand, Zayd Kaiser does quite literally get swarmed with girls by the end of the set. His friends invite a good half of them into the party, and I end up stered by his side through the sheer presence of the crowd. There¡¯s hardly enough room to walk.


    ¡°Lucky bitch,¡± one of the girls murmurs, and Zayd gives her this dark look that proves to me he¡¯s right: he¡¯s just as much of an asshole now as he¡¯s always been.


    ¡°Talk to her like that again, and I¡¯ll show you the door myself, get it?¡± he snaps, and I raise my eyebrows as he looks down at me. ¡°What? The only person that gets to bully you is me.¡±


    ¡°Aw, wow, such a romantic statement,¡± I say with a roll of my eyes, but I know it¡¯s a joke, so I let it go.


    Later that night, I end up in Zayd¡¯s bed with Zayd and only Zayd, and he shows me


    he¡¯s just as capable of going slow as he is fast.

 245

    The first thing I do when I get home from the concert is hit up nned Parenthood with Miranda. She talks incessantly about how lucky she is that she doesn¡¯t need birth control, but her constant chatter helps calm my nerves. And she¡¯s got a point. Lucky bitch.


    ¡°You are so adulting right now,¡± she tells me when we walk out of there with birth control pills and climb into the Maserati.


    ¡°I am, huh?¡± I say, trying to find a ce to put the giant box of condoms they shoved in my arms on the way out. I¡¯m sure Charlie¡¯s vaguely aware that I¡¯m sexually active, but it¡¯s not something he wants to see evidence of, I¡¯m sure. ¡°Should we go out to celebrate? A special birth control lunch?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s wear our uniforms and go intimidate preppy, bourgeois brats in Grenadine Heights.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound very adult to me,¡± I tell Miranda as I start the car, and she gives me a look, pulling down her shades to stare at me with ice-blue eyes.


    ¡°Just because we¡¯re hitting eighteen doesn¡¯t mean we have to give up on


    all the fun stuff. Come on, let¡¯s go. Food¡¯s on me.¡±


    I grin, but I have to admit: that does sound like fun. Those all-ck Burberry Prep uniforms have a way of drawing attention.


    I slip my own shades on, and we head back to the house to grab our uniforms. Miranda¡¯s spending the night again, so all her stuff¡¯s piled on my


    bedroom floor. The Cabots have a huge beach house, but her parents have guests, so she¡¯s made herself scarce. Creed, on the other hand, somehow got roped into an endless string of dinners and cocktail parties. I almost feel sorry for him.


    When we pull into the driveway, I see a For Sale sign in the yard, and yank my sunsses off to gape at it. What the hell?


    Charlie¡¯s sitting in his chair in the living room when I walk in, and he smiles as he looks up and sees us.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the sign?¡± I ask, feeling this niggle of worry in my lower belly. Dad shrugs his shoulders loosely, but I can tell he¡¯s stressed out about it. There¡¯s a little ¡®V¡¯ of worry between his brows.


    ¡°Thendlord wants to sell, and I can¡¯t afford a down payment for a house right now. Don¡¯t worry too much about it. The real estate agent let me know it¡¯s likely to be purchased as an investment property, and having us as long- term tenants is a valuable asset.¡±From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°What about the money in my-¡± I start, but Dad¡¯s already shaking his head.


    ¡°There are six offers on the property already. Homes don¡¯te up often


    in Grenadine Heights. Don¡¯t worry, honey. You save that money for college and stop worrying so much about your old man.¡± My mouth purses into a thin line. I wish he¡¯d told me about this sooner. Or maybe the sign was in the yard when the tour bus dropped us offst night, and I just didn¡¯t notice? I was so nervous about my nned Parenthood appointment today, I easily could¡¯ve overlooked it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never stop worrying about you,¡± I tell him, giving him a kiss on the forehead.


    Miranda and I change and head out for the day,ing back to find a Sold card stacked on top of the For Sale sign. We exchange a look, climbing out in the dark, and then jumping when a person stands up from the shadows of the porch. I¡¯ve been meaning to change that bulb out ¡­


    ¡°Marnye.¡± It¡¯s Windsor, pushing red hair off of his forehead. He waits for me to pause next to him, and I notice he¡¯s got a bulb in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. ¡°I noticed you needed a light, love.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I ask, as I get my phone out to use as a shlight, so he can see better. Miranda lets herself inside, giving us a moment of privacy. ¡°And why are you sitting in the dark by yourself?¡±


    ¡°Just tired,¡± Windsor says, installing the bulb and flooding the porch with light. He turns to look at me, and I see it written all over his face, the dark lines of fatigue. He puts the screwdriver aside and then reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a folded wad of papers.


    I take them from him, and squint at the fine print, ncing up suddenly. ¡°You bought our house?¡± I ask, blinking in shock.


    ¡°Just barely. There were quite a few other offers-and not all of them from pleasant or even neutral parties.¡± Windsor smiles at me, but itcks some of his usual glitter. He¡¯s exhausted. Whatever is going on behind the scenes, it¡¯s wearing him down. And I don¡¯t want that. I don¡¯t want him working himself to the bone for me. ¡°I just paid ten times what your house is worth.¡± Windsorughs and scrubs a palm down his face. ¡°Harper really, really wanted it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to raise the rent, are you?¡± I ask, but it¡¯s just a joke. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I just ¡­ I want to hug him. So I do. I slide my arms around his waist, and give him a squeeze. He returns the gesture, and then ces a ring of keys in my hand.


    ¡°Cash purchase, quick close. Money can buy ¡­ almost anything.¡±


    Windsor smiles and pulls away from me, heading down the driveway with his hands in his pockets. I consider following, but I get the idea that he wants to be alone. He pauses at the edge of the yard, waves at me, and then continues on toward the bus stop.


    I still don¡¯t get why he doesn¡¯t drive.


    In reality, I know nothing about the British prince, the bully of bullies. But I want to.


    I want to so damn badly.


    The rest of the summer seems to crawl by in hotzy days, buzzing cicadas, and as much time spent with Charlie that I can manage. The questions I have


    about Isabe, and the new baby that Jennifer¡¯s carrying, are pushed aside in favor of keeping the peace.


    That ¡­ or maybe I just don¡¯t want to know the answers to those questions?


    ¡°What do you want to do for your birthday?¡± Dad asks, and I get mad deja vu, sitting on the back porch with him and Windsor. Last year, we had the surprise party at the bowling alley. This year ¡­ seems so much more severe, so much more important somehow. ¡°Your mother wanted to take you and your sister to dinner.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty much thest thing I¡¯d want to do on my birthday,¡± I tell him as Wind stays quiet, sipping his lemonade from a metal straw tucked into the corner of his mouth. I exhale and look out across thewn. It¡¯s a little too long, the grass waving in the warm breeze, but it¡¯s dotted with wildflowers and I find the sight soothing somehow. ¡°Maybe we could all go to theke and have a barbeque?¡±


    ¡°This is your birthday, Marnye-bear, not mine.¡± Dad reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze, but there¡¯s no strength left in it. Birds chirp, and butterflies flitter by, but I feel like I¡¯m being sucked down a dark, ck hole in that moment.


    I want to scream at the world, maybe throw something, but that won¡¯t help. Instead, I take a long, deep breath and force a smile. It hurts, that smile, like a knife cutting across the bottom of my face, but I do it anyway. Because really, it¡¯s the opposite of what Dad just said: this is for him, not for me.


    ¡°It¡¯s your eighteenth,¡± Charlie insists, looking over at me with a mischievous smile. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to get into trouble. It¡¯s a rite of passage.¡± I already got into some good trouble at the Afterglow concert, I think, feeling a small shiver run through me. I cannot get Zayd¡¯s inked hands out of my head, or the way the piercing in his shaft made me finish with such a violent,


    overwhelming surge of pleasure.

 246

    Not ¡­ exactly the conversation I want to be having while Dad¡¯s touching my hand. I almost grimace but manage to keep the expression off my face.


    ¡°Barbeque and fishing at theke,¡± I say firmly, exhaling. ¡°I know I¡¯ve been kinda strict about the vegan and vegetarian thing, so we¡¯ll grab some big, fat steaks, some ribs, some chicken-¡±


    ¡°I will grab some big, fat steaks, and whatever else you want,¡± Windsor says, setting his lemonade aside. ¡°Just make me a list, and your wish is


    granted.¡±


    I give him a look.


    ¡°No more extravagant gifts this time. It¡¯s not apetition.¡± But my mouth curves into a smile anyway because he knows how much I love my car.


    ¡°It¡¯s a deal, Your Majesty,¡± he says, without a hint of irony. ¡°Just the basics. Do you want a cake? Candles? A crown?¡±


    I smile and Dad chuckles, reaching over to ruffle my hair.


    ¡°She¡¯s been wearing a crown since she was born, my little princess ¡­¡± His voice trails off, and the way he looks at me ¡­ I know he thinks he¡¯s dying. Really and truly believes it. I squeeze Grandma June¡¯s charm bracelet in my hand and keep eye contact with him.


    ¡°Any normal party stuff is fine ¡­¡± I start, and then as if Windsor can sense we need it, he stands up and leaves me and dad alone in the sunshine.


    My eighteenth birthday rolls up just days before school starts. The weather is perfect, a balmy seventy degrees with just enough shade to keep us cool, but plenty of sunshine gleaming on the surface of theke. Using some of my gambling money, I bought Dad and me new fishing rods, seriously freaking fancy ones. That, and a new bait box and plenty of supplies to go in it. I even bought him a new hat, and a small metal boat that cuts across the water like a dream.


    ¡°This is not my birthday,¡± he insists, but he epts the items anyway, and we spend a good portion of the morning in silence on the water, bringing in several fish but keeping only a couple to cook for lunch. By the time the boys arrive, rolling up in Zayd¡¯s Jaguar, Zack¡¯s McLaren, and a Mercedes sedan that Miranda got for her eighteenth birthday, we¡¯re bringing the boat in and getting coals prepped on the small barbeque.


    Windsor sets up streamers and ties a ridiculously huge cluster of balloons to a tree while Zack takes over the grill. Andrew is with his family in Hawaii


    until tomorrow, so he won¡¯t be here, and Lizzie isn¡¯t sure she¡¯s going to be able to make it. Is it wrong for me to hope it¡¯s just going to be me, the boys, and Miranda?


    ¡°A crown, as promised,¡± Windsor says, putting a tiara on my head that has my eyes bulging out of my skull.


    ¡°How much did you spend on this?¡± I whisper, but he ignores me, sweeping away to help unload gifts, snacks, and a giant three-tiered cake that looks a little like the Burberry Prep campus. ¡°Talk about gauche. Whose idea was this?¡±


    ¡°We all pooled money and got you the crown and the cake,¡± Miranda says, putting a stic wand with a light-up star on the end in my hand. I raise my eyebrows and she grins. ¡°We figured we were all saying goodbye to Burberry this year, so why not eat it in cake form?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± She saunters by and starts opening bags to dump chips in the metal serving bowls. A few minutester, Lizzie pulls up and my heart drops. She gives me a brief birthday hug before helping Miranda with the snacks.


    Zayd starts up some music while Creed and Tristan drape themselves on


    the pic table like kings.


    ¡°Fair warning,¡± Tristan says, ncing in the direction of the road. ¡°We saw a champagne colored Cadic on its way up here.¡± I nod, but it¡¯s okay. Actually, this time, it was me that invited Jennifer ¡­ and Isabe, and the baby Jennifer gave birth tost month.


    I have a gut feeling that won¡¯t go away.


    The car pulls up and Jennifer climbs out, looking far too pretty for someone that just went throughbor. I hate myself for thinking it, but if I could, I¡¯d transfer her health and vitality into Charlie. I really would. He¡¯s the parent who stuck around, who took care of me, who raised me all by himself. Jennifer is just a selfish wannabe socialite.


    ¡°Happy birthday, honey,¡± she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Isabe stays far behind her, nostrils red as she looks at the party in disgust, like it¡¯s far below her usual standards. Jennifer hands me the package in her hand before heading back to the car to grab the baby.


    It could be Dad¡¯s baby, I think as I watch her and then nce down at the gift in my hand. It¡¯s a small box with a bow on it. I look up again, my mind spinning a million miles a minute. No, the baby can¡¯t be Dad¡¯s, right? I


    mean, when did he start the chemo? It definitely messes with a man¡¯s fertility ¡­


    I look at Isabe next, and then go sit beside Creed, struggling to keep my breathing in check. He notices me having a mini freak-out and pulls me into hisp, putting his mouth near my ear.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, birthday girl?¡± he asks, and I realize I only know his birthday because of Miranda. August 26th. I don¡¯t know any of the guys¡¯ birthdays. They¡¯re all older than me by at least a few weeks, I do know that. None of them had any extravagant parties or anything that I¡¯m aware of.


    ¡°Do you think Isabe looks like my dad?¡± I ask, and Creed turns to nce at her. The brown-haired, brown-eyed girl is looking between the five boys at the party with renewed interest, but she doesn¡¯t make any effort to join us at the table.


    ¡°You think she¡¯s your father¡¯s daughter?¡± Tristan asks, turning to look at me. I nod, but then grimace.


    ¡°How soap opera is that? That shit just doesn¡¯t happen in real life.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t it, though?¡± he asks, sighing and reaching up to push back some


    locks of raven-dark hair. ¡°Your mother wants afortable life, and money,


    and a healthy husband. But she loves your dad.¡± Tristan stands up suddenly and stalks off toward theke. I watch him as he heads to the end of the dock, removes his shoes, and rolls up his pants, putting his feet in the water.


    It¡¯s such an ¡­ well, an un-Tristan-like thing to do that I end up enraptured by the sight.


    Lizzie follows right behind him, sitting down at his side, the whisper of their shared conversation wafting back to me. My mouth tightens into a thin line, but I have other things to worry about right now.


    Jennifer is presenting the baby to Charlie, and I swear, his entire face lights up.


    Isabe finally relents and takes a seat at the table, but other than making eyes at the boys, she says and does nothing. She doesn¡¯t even bother to wish me a happy birthday.


    When ites time to open gifts, I start with Jennifer¡¯s, just for curiosity¡¯s sake, and find a key on the end of a chain.


    ¡°My home is your home,¡± she tells me with a huge, shiny smile. ¡°This is the key to the house. The address is tucked in the box, and I¡¯ve got a room all set up for you.¡±


    That, apparently, is just too much for Isabe Carmichael. She takes off, locks herself in the car, and doesn¡¯te out for the rest of the party.From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, but I don¡¯t n on taking her up on that. Forgiveness is one thing, but ¡­ Jen


    nifer¡¯s offer is just too little, toote.

 247

    The fourth year uniform at Burberry Prep has always been my favorite: ck from head to toe. Even the socks and shoes are ck.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m going to a funeral,¡± Miranda whines, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. We¡¯re in the visitors¡¯ parking lot bathroom, waiting for everyone in our little group to change clothes. Every Blueblood, you mean. You guys are the Bluebloods this year. It¡¯s pretty much official.


    Last year, I wasn¡¯t willing to ept the position. This year, I¡¯m going to embrace it.


    No bullying allowed at my school.


    ¡°It¡¯s not funereal,¡± I murmur, defending the uniform as I run my hand down the tie, and she gives me a look, hopping up on the counter to switch out her socks. We¡¯re allowed to wear the sock choices from any year, so I¡¯m not surprised when Miranda dons the white ones with the red and ck stripe fromst year. ¡°Those don¡¯t go with the outfit,¡± I tease as Lizziees out of one of the stalls, fully-dressed from head to toe in ck.


    She smiles at me, and I smile back, but there¡¯s this weird tension between us that wasn¡¯t there before her confession. We spent the whole summer dancing around the issue, and here we are, with nothing to say to one another.


    ¡°Miranda!¡± Creed calls from outside the bathroom, and she rolls her eyes dramatically before sliding off the counter and tossing her white-blonde hair


    over her shoulder. She gives me a look, and I nod, telling her that yes, it¡¯s okay to leave me alone with Lizzie Walton.


    ¡°Hey so,¡± Lizzie starts, leaning over the counter, her dark curls straightened into a shiny ck sheet. She nces up and over at me with bright amber eyes, and I suck in a sharp breath. She really is pretty, isn¡¯t she? That thought¡¯s immediately followed by a momentary blip of insecurity.


    No, Marnye, you¡¯re way past that. I push it away by dunking my hands under some cold water and washing them with the foaming soap that smells like honeysuckle.


    ¡°So?¡± I ask, quirking a brow as I dry my hands quickly and lean back against the wall. Lizzie¡¯s still staring at me, her expression unreadable.


    ¡°This is ourst year at Burberry, and ¡­ after this, everything changes.¡± She stands up fully and turns to face me, her shoulders squared in just such a way that I feel a nervous flutter in my belly. This isn¡¯t going to end well, is it? ¡°We¡¯ll be going to different colleges and living different lives.¡± She exhales and closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, she¡¯s staring up at the ceiling. ¡°The thing is, I want to make sure Tristan and I go to the same one.¡± She drops her gaze, and I bite my lower lip.


    ¡°Where are you nning on going?¡± My voice is cautious, but strong. I¡¯m proud of myself for that. Miranda wants to see this big war between me and Lizzie, but that¡¯s not what I want. Tristan has to decide what he wants; I won¡¯t try to force his hand.


    ¡°Stanford, most likely.¡± Lizzie smiles and shakes out her hands. ¡°Look, I hate that this is happening. Your friendship is important to me, but ¡­¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re still in love with Tristan,¡± I say slowly, hating the words even as theye out of my mouth.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lizzie groans, putting her hands over her face. She drops them by her side and stares me down, exhaling. ¡°I ¡­ don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but ¡­ dating five guys is kind of unusual, right?¡±


    I have nothing to say to that. It is unusual, isn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Just that one word. It¡¯s the only one I can seem to make in that moment. I think I¡¯m ¡­ getting pissed off.


    ¡°Why not just let Tristan go then?¡± Lizzie asks, almost like she¡¯s pleading. ¡°You can¡¯t keep them all. Eventually you¡¯ll have to choose.¡±


    My mouth purses into a thin line.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I have enough boyfriends, so why not give you one?¡± Lizzie shrugs, almost helplessly. I can¡¯t decide if it¡¯s a genuine emotion, or if it¡¯s all just an act.


    ¡°I mean, not exactly, but ¡­ yeah.¡±


    ¡°If Tristan wants to be with you, that¡¯s his choice,¡± I tell her, that anxious knot inside of me twisting even further. It¡¯s in that moment that I hate this world and all its stupid rules. Why can¡¯t I love more than one person? Parents love more than one child. Grandchildren love more than one grandma. Pet owners love more than one pet. ¡°I can¡¯t and won¡¯t force or encourage him to do anything.¡±


    ¡°Tristan-¡± Lizzie starts, but there¡¯s the squeak of shoes on the freshly waxed tile floors just before Tristan himself steps into the room, dressed all in ck.


    With his raven-ck hair, gray eyes, and dark frown, he¡¯s hauntingly beautiful but also somewhat tragic. My heart shudders in my chest, and I find myself squeezing my tie in a tight fist.


    ¡°Tristan, what?¡± he asks, his voice smooth and low, his expression reserved. ¡°You know I hate being gossiped about.¡±Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Lizzie asks with a girlishugh, tucking some hair behind her ear. ¡°You love being gossiped about.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Tristan doesn¡¯t reply. Instead, he just stands there and looks at the two of us. As I nce over at him, I can¡¯t help but wonder: does he want both me and Lizzie the same way I want him and the other boys? What if he loves two girls the same way I ¡­ ¡°Marnye, don¡¯t do that,¡± he says, shocking me out of my thoughts. ¡°You¡¯ll wrinkle the silk.¡± Tristan walks over and uncurls my hand from my tie, smoothing his palm down the length of it. In the process, his hands skims over the full mounds of my breasts, and I shiver with barely suppressed need. ¡°We need to look presentable walking into that school.¡±


    Tristan reaches out and curls a length of my rose-gold hair around his finger, leaving a springy ringlet bouncing against my forehead.


    ¡°Because we¡¯re Bluebloods,¡± I state, trying to reinforce that fact for myself as m


    uch as for Lizzie and Tristan.

 248

    ¡°Because it¡¯s going to be a social bloodbath,¡± Tristan corrects, turning toward the mirror and straightening his own tie. He¡¯s entirely monotone from


    head to toe, other than for the red and white academy crest on the breast pocket of his zer. ¡°Keep your guard up. Both of you.¡±


    The King of Burberry Preparatory Academy turns on his heel and walks out. I¡¯m not exactly keen on carrying on this conversation with Lizzie, so I trot after him, emerging into the bright sun to find a scene worthy of an anime or a manga.


    All of my friends-and boyfriends-are standing next to a white academy limo, dressed in their ck uniforms, poised in various states of rxation. There¡¯s Creed, leaning back against the side of the car with his eyes closed while Miranda fixes the buttons on his shirt. Zayd is sitting on the trunk of the car while Zack stands nearby, hands tucked into the pockets of his cks. Windsor is ¡­ somehow on the roof of the limo and not getting chastised by the driver. He has a habit of doing that, getting away with things other people wouldn¡¯t.


    Andrew waves at me as I jog to catch up with Tristan¡¯s long-legged strides. There are a couple of other people there, too, like Briana Chow, Jessie Maker, and Gary Jacobs. It¡¯s everyone Tristan recruited to round out the Inner Circle.


    Just like the first year I started at Burberry, there are three Idol guys: Tristan, Creed, and Zayd. There are three Idol girls: me, Miranda, and Lizzie. And there are twelve Inner Circle members, including Windsor, Zack, Andrew, Gary, Jessie, and Briana, plus some new faces I don¡¯t know very well yet.


    The new Bluebloods of Burberry Prep.


    Creed steps aside as I approach, and opens the door for me, blue eyes watching as I slide in across the sumptuous leather seats. Hees in after me, but Zayd¡¯s close behind, crawling over to take up the position on my left.


    We had sex; I actually had sex with him. My cheeks me, and I suck my lower lip under my teeth.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he purrs, leaning in close, a huge grin stered on his face. I can smell his sage and geranium scent mixed with the faint whisper of tobo as he presses up close against me. ¡°Are you daydreaming about all the naughty things we did?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off, Kaiser,¡± I choke out, but my mouth twitches slightly at the same time Creed scowls. We didn¡¯t just have sex, we were downright fucking


    naughty. My body tingles as I remember Zayd¡¯s tattooed hands on my hips, his pelvis grinding me against the speaker ¡­


    If the Marnye Reed I was three years ago could see me now, well, she would be well and truly shocked at the transformation. The thing is, what we did was fun. It was consensual. It felt good. There¡¯s nothing wrong with that. ¡°I¡¯m surprised she didn¡¯t dump you immediately after seeing your tiny dick,¡± Creed drawls on the end of another yawn. ¡°It¡¯s so little, at first I


    thought a girl with a weird clit had snuck into the boys¡¯ locker room.¡± ¡°Aww,¡± Zayd purrs, putting his hand over his chest, ¡°that joke might¡¯ve


    worked before we slept together, but now that Marnye knows how skilled I am, some virgin boy is going to have serious trouble catching up.¡±


    ¡°Better to be a virgin than some diseased man-whore,¡± Creed snaps back, but Zayd just throws his head back and howls withughter. ¡°Seriously, man, screw you.¡±


    Zayd stopsughing just long enough to catch his breath, leaning back against the window that separates us from the driver. He rests his inked fingers against the side of his face and smirks in this smug, satisfied male sort of way that would be infuriating if it wasn¡¯t so damn sexy, too.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be mad that we all know your secret. You kept it well. I was convinced you were an even bigger man-slut than Tristan.¡±Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Please and kindly, shut the fuck up,¡± Tristan says, tapping his fingers on his thigh. Lizzie is sitting on his right, but I can¡¯t decide if that was by her design, his, or just purely idental. I remember sitting next to him in the limost year, and my heart clenches painfully.


    ¡°His majesty is trying to think,¡± Windsor says, speaking up and tapping the side of his head with a single finger. ¡°It¡¯s not easy for him, so please, quiet while he concentrates.¡±


    Windsor¡¯s newest favorite thing to do is call Tristan his majesty in the most dry and sarcastic voice known to man. It¡¯s really heightened the tension between them, and I¡¯m left wondering yet again how long I can do this, keep this ragtag little group of ours together.


    ¡°Be nice, Windy,¡± I tell him, feeling this rush of anxiety sweep over me as the car pulls up to the courtyard steps. The Towers loom above us with their white stone walls, and the gs on the side of tower one whip in the wind. There¡¯s an American g, a California state g, and a g that features the


    academy crest on it. In the center of the courtyard, the bronze stag statue stands proudly, water pouring into the serene circle of the fountain.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got this,¡± Zack whispers, noticing my expression. He shrugs out of his letterman jacket and passes it over to me, making me smile. I take it and slip into it, his grapefruit and nutmeg scent surrounding me like a familiar hug. All the boys are watching, and none of them looks particrly happy. Even Miranda has her eyes slightly narrowed. Lizzie looks ¡­ kind of thrilled, actually.


    ¡°Don¡¯t show weakness in the halls. Save the squabbles for behind closed doors,¡± Tristan says as the limoes to a stop, and Lizzie climbs out ahead of him. He¡¯s right behind her, with Miranda, Windsor, and Zack following behind.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stress,¡± Creed tells me, his eyes heavy and half-lidded. He curls his fingers through mine and runs his tongue along his lower lip. ¡°Just focus on kicking Tristan¡¯s ass in the ss rankings again.¡±


    I nod, exhaling and letting Creed pull me from the car while Z


    ayd follows along behind us.

 249

    I have to say, we make a fairly impressive entrance, all of us lined up in all


    ck, bookbags held at our sides or over our shoulders as we march across the courtyard and the other students part like a wave.


    That is, until we get in the hall and run into my sister.


    Half-sister, or otherwise, I can¡¯t tell because Dad won¡¯t talk about it, but there she is, standing with a group of other first years ¡­ and Harper du Pont. ¡°Not even ten steps in the fucking door, and we gotta deal with this shit,¡±


    Zayd growls as he takes off ahead of us. He¡¯s not polite when he storms up to them and inserts himself into their little half-circle.


    ¡°Good morning, Zayd,¡± Becky spits out, giving him this poisonous look that sets me on edge. She has no right to look at him like that, especially not after she and her friends tried to drown me, and then attempted to brand me like chattel. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°When Idols walk, you get the fuck out of the way.¡± He looks over at Isabe, and she returns his stare with a stony version of her own.


    ¡°Make us,¡± she says, tossing her glossy chestnut hair over one shoulder. Harper smirks, but Zayd¡¯s already gritting his teeth and nodding his chin in the direction of our new posse.


    ¡°Girls deal with girls, it¡¯s the rule,¡± Tristan tells me, putting his hand out to keep me from moving forward. Briana Chow and one of the new girls, Daisy Sandberg, I think it is, step up and go to grab my sister on either side. Part of me wants to defend her, but the rest of me knows the truth.


    She¡¯s got that bully blood in her.


    And I won¡¯t allow bullying at my school, not anymore.


    ¡°Get your fucking hands off me!¡± Isabe snarls as Ileana and Becky step in to defend her. The other girls on our side move forward until there¡¯s a bit of a stand-off.


    For all the Bluebloods we destroyedst year-like Anna, Ebony, Sai, Greg, and John-Harper¡¯s recruited new students to take their ces. This is looking to turn into a fight, especially when what¡¯s left of The Company shows up. Jalen looks ready to kill somebody, to be quite honest. Maybe because we got his girlfriend kicked out of school?


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem here?¡± Myron Talbot asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. His eyes are dark, and his face is as closed-off as Tristan¡¯s ever is. ¡°When the Idols walk, you move.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t agree that they are the Idols,¡± Harper says, but even she looksContent is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    nervous with Myron staring at her like that. He takes a step forward, and all the girls but Isabe and Harper move back.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a debate, du Pont. Get your ass, and your new pet¡¯s ass out of the way.¡±


    His threat doesn¡¯t dissuade Harper from her position. If anything, the move incenses her to step forward.


    ¡°I¡¯m not moving out of the way so some trailer park slut with a magic pussy can drag her harem of assholes unfettered down the hall.¡± She flings a hand out to point at Tristan and hisses through her teeth. ¡°A du Pont never bows down to charity cases, and they¡¯ve got two of those in tow.¡±


    I look up and see Tristan tightening his jaw in frustration.


    ¡°Get the fuck out of the way; I¡¯m warning you.¡± Myron crosses his arms over his chest, and I sense violenceing like a storm. I step forward and everyone turns to look at me.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t need people to move out of my way. That¡¯s not a perk of the Idols anymore.¡± Harper narrows her eyes on me like she thinks I¡¯m ying some trick. I stare her blue gaze down without flinching before I turn to Isabe. ¡°She tried to kill me, you know, Harper did. She and her friends.


    So whatever it is you hate me so much for, ask yourself how far you¡¯re willing to go.¡±


    I start walking and everyone else follows. Well, everyone but Myron. He doesn¡¯t move until Tristan pauses next to him and the two share some quiet words.


    We head straight for the Gallery, and this time, we¡¯re there first. There¡¯s no locked door, no Gary sitting at the window smoking a cigarette and sneering at me. For the first time in four years, I walk straight through those stone halls, up the old steps, and over to the front of the balcony.


    The feeling of standing up there, so close to the wall of stained ss windows, and looking across the sea of students in their ck, white, and red uniforms is humbling in the best sort of way.


    A smile curves across my face as Zack steps up beside me.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asks, and I nod. ¡°Even with your sister trying to team up with the Harpies?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s hurting,¡± I tell him, ncing his way and meeting the narrowed dark slits of his eyes. He looks so tough all the time, with his big, broad shoulders, and that fierce gaze of his, but underneath, he¡¯s like a teddy bear. A defensive lineman teddy bear. Yep. ¡°Once she gets past that, she¡¯ll see the Harpies for who they are.¡± I turn back around and look down, watching the wave of faces that turn as Harper marches into the chapel with her cronies behind her, and takes up the front row.


    ¡°This is a year that¡¯ll go down in Burberry Prep history,¡± Zayd says, pausing beside me and sitting on the railing in a way that makes me incredibly nervous. He flips Harper off when she nces our way, but she ignores him, nostrils ring.


    ¡°It¡¯s a year that¡¯ll go down in Infinity Club history,¡± Zack murmurs, and the two boys exchange a look that makes me nervous.


    There¡¯s more going on behind the scenes of this academy than meets the eye-and I¡¯m deter


    mined to find out what that is.

 250

    The new cheerleading uniform for Burberry Prep is a midriff that shows off my entire belly. In my room, I take a moment to pace and freak out, but when I walk out into that hallway, I almost hair flip I¡¯m exuding so much confidence.


    There are no condoms on my doorstep, no spray painted words on my door.


    Of course, I still have an escort. It¡¯s too dangerous not to.


    ¡°Look at you,¡± Zack growls when I step out and find him in his ck jersey, the number 60 printed on the front. He doesn¡¯t even need shoulder pads to make him look big and broad. He curves a muscr arm around my waist and pulls me close. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you look so damn hot.¡±


    ¡°Uh-uh.¡± I put my palms on his chest and push him back just enough to look him over. He really is beautiful, his hair like dark chocte, his eyes just as decadent, his body hard and toned to perfection. He¡¯s certainlye a long way from the bully of Lower Banks Middle School, now hasn¡¯t he? ¡°So you have a thing for cheerleaders, huh? Good to know. I¡¯ll have to keep an eye on you.¡±


    Zack looks me over, eyes staring at the intertwined ck and red ¡®V¡¯ shapes on the top of my uniform, the white background, the Burberry Prep crest in the center of my chest. The arms are long, patterned with ck and red, and the skirt is a super mini in white, no pleats this time, just a small ¡®V¡¯


    cutout on one side, and more ck and red stripes along the hem. Underneath, I have on bloomers-aka spanky pants, but like eww, I¡¯m not about to call them that-ankle socks, and brand-new sneakers.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    The whole uniform costs like six hundred bucks, but extracurricr activities are covered by the Cabot Schrship Award, so I¡¯m covered. Of course ¡­ I could probably ask any one of my boyfriends to help me out with costs, but the thought just makes me sick.


    I¡¯m not dating them for their money, and I refuse to take advantage of it. Even Windsor purchasing Dad¡¯s house has left me feeling ufortable. Charlie doesn¡¯t even know about it, and I don¡¯t know how to tell him. All he knows is that the house sold, and that our currentndlord has briefly suspended rent payments ¡­


    Zack cups my face in one, big hand and looks at me from heavy-lidded eyes.


    ¡°There¡¯s only one cheerleader I have my eye on,¡± he says, his mouth curving into a sharp smile. ¡°Well, I¡¯m only checking out one cheerleader, I should say. There are a few others that I¡¯m watching in a different way.¡± He pauses, and I know we¡¯re both thinking about the Harpies. Most of them are on the team with me: Mayleen, Abigail, Kiara, and Ileana. They¡¯re trying to start a trend on campus, calling themselves the Reigning Royals. I¡¯ve heard it whispered a few times here and there, but I hear the term Harpies just as often.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them,¡± I say, taking his hand and letting him walk me to ss. The game isn¡¯t until this evening, but the academy is trying to drum up some school spirit by having us wear our uniforms during the day. I don¡¯t mind it, especially not with the way everyone looks at me as I walk the halls. I¡¯m not the Working Girl anymore, not to the majority of the students. They watch me with respect ¡­ and maybe a little bit of fear.


    Zack drops me off at my math ss where Tristan¡¯s waiting, and everything seems to be going just fine until we step into the hallway after and find Harper and her friends waiting. I¡¯m sad to see that Isabe is with them, too, and wearing a cheer uniform. She¡¯s on the JV team though, so hers isn¡¯t a midriff. Instead it¡¯s simr to the one I wore during second year.


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s the charity cases,¡± Harper says, tilting her head to one side, blue eyes gleaming. Everyone but her and Becky is dressed in a cheerleading uniform, and they¡¯re all watching me very, very carefully. ¡°Do you need


    some lunch money?¡± Harper¡¯s new red hair slithers over her shoulder like a snake, and my eyes narrow.


    ¡°No bullying allowed at my school,¡± I tell her, before Tristan can even open his mouth. I don¡¯t need to tell you how unusual that really is, considering he¡¯s so used to being king. ¡°Not toward me, Tristan, or anyone else.¡± I step forward, filling the space between us, and then I turn, reaching down to grab Tristan¡¯s hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯m not feeding her fire anymore.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it strike you as odd that your own sister¡¯s standing against you?¡± Harper says as I try to pull Tristan away. He¡¯s glued to the spot though, determined to stand his ground. He¡¯s a man used to taking the offensive in most situations. The key here, however, is to y it neutral. ¡°I mean, what does that say about you if even your own family is disgusted?¡± Harper walks around andes to stand in front of me, putting her hands on her hips. She looks a bit like a witch with that bloodred hair and all ck uniform. Then again, maybe that¡¯s a little insulting to witches? ¡°Or do you think it¡¯s because your sister is so ashamed at the fact that her father isn¡¯t actually Adam Carmichael, CEO and heir to a multi-million dor fortune ¡­ Instead, he¡¯s a drunk, just like yours.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I say, my voice cool and calm. Because if even I don¡¯t know the truth, there¡¯s no way that Harper does. My eyes slide over to Isabe¡¯s brown ones, narrowed into two slits on her pretty face. She turns away from us suddenly, like maybe Harper¡¯s struck a nerve.


    Fuck.


    Is this what Harper¡¯s holding over my sister? Or did ¡­ did Isabe tell her willingly?


    ¡°You know what I¡¯m saying: Isabe Carmichael is really Isabe Reed, right? I mean, she should be, considering your whore of a mother threw herself at a rich man while at the same time warming the bed of a poor one?¡± My hands clench into fists on my skirt, and it takes everything I have in me to keep from pping this brat again. She seriously needs to be put in her


    ce; that is, back down on earth wi


    th all the rest of us.

 251

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare call my mother a whore again,¡± I say, and there¡¯s ice in my voice, shards of it that seem to cut.


    ¡°A spade¡¯s a spade,¡± Harper says, shrugging her thin shoulders and smirking. ¡°You¡¯re lucky your fancy prince trotted in on his white horse to


    save you and your soon-to-be-dead dad, or I would¡¯ve bought that house and knocked it down in front of you.¡± She smirks, and keeps talking, like she¡¯spletely unaware of the anger burning inside of me. Tristan watches us carefully, almost like he¡¯s holding back, curious to see what I might do. ¡°Did I mention I already own the trailer park where that stupid Train Car of yours is? That¡¯s right.¡± She steps toward me when my eyes widen and reaches out to pick some imaginary lint from my uniform. ¡°Didn¡¯t your new boyfriends tell you? My father knew the man who owned it, so he bought it without it ever touching the market. Your boy toys tried to win it for you at the Club meeting, but they lost. Just like they lost so many other things that week. Have they talked about it? Any of it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what happened at the Infinity Club meeting,¡± I say, reaching down with a shaking hand to pull the giant bandage off my hip. The infinity symbol with the sh through it shows, and several of the girls gasp. That¡¯s when it hits me.


    Maybe Isabe ¡­ is trying to get into the Infinity Club? I look past Harper again, but my little sister won¡¯t look at me. The little sister I always wanted, that I dreamed about, that I asked after for years ¡­ and she won¡¯t even look at me.


    ¡°Fuck the Infinity Club,¡± I tell Harper, raising my voice, so every student in that hall can hear me. Not that it matters anymore: there¡¯s not a single person at the academy who doesn¡¯t know about the Club-staff included. I know that now. ¡°My friends tell me all I need to know.¡±


    ¡°Sure they do,¡± Harper says, flicking a look back at Tristan. ¡°I¡¯m sure Mr.


    Vanderbilt over here¡¯s been a wealth of information.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d best keep that silicone plumped trap of yours shut, before I close it permanently,¡± Tristan growls, and there¡¯s a darkness in his voice that makes me shiver. He sounds awful, a veritable well of hostility and neatly suppressed rage. It¡¯s like all of that wild anger and hate inside of him as been honed down to a fine diamond¡¯s point. Sharp, unbreakable.


    ¡°Did he tell you,¡± Harper starts, backing up into the sea of girls as Tristan takes a step forward. He very much looks like he¡¯d enjoy hitting her. Instead, he adjusts the silver Burberry Prep crest cufflinks at his wrists. ¡°Did he tell you,¡± Harper repeats, clearly enjoying herself as she nces my way, ¡°that Lizzie actually made a bet with her parents? She¡¯s free and clear of her engagement obligations now. Tristan ¡­ Lizzie, a match made in heaven. She


    can afford him the type of lifestyle he¡¯s so used to living. Can you do that, Working Girl?¡± she asks, looking me dead in the face, her lips curved into a devil¡¯s smile. No wonder Miranda used to call the Idols devils and the Inner Circle demons; it fits. ¡°If you and Tristan ride off into the sunset together, can you give him the standard of living he¡¯s ustomed to?¡±


    ¡°Harper,¡± Tristan says, reaching out. Becky and Ileana act like they think he¡¯s going to hit her, and the other girls crowd forward like they¡¯re willing to beat the shit out of both of us, here and now. I don¡¯t doubt their ability; I was victim to it once before. ¡°Stop being so jealous.¡± He curls strands of her red hair around his fingers, and she watches him with narrowed eyes. Clearly, she expects scissors. And rightfully so. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing: you¡¯ve thoroughly pissed me off now. I mean, I thought you¡¯d done it before, but kudos.¡± He yanks on her hair and jerks her forward, and she ps him away with a scowl. ¡°You¡¯ve really and truly incited me.¡± He narrows his de-gray gaze on her. ¡°I¡¯d rather be a charity case ¡­ I¡¯d rather be a homeless fucking drunk than married to a speed-addicted whore with too much stic surgery.¡±


    ¡°Takes one to know one,¡± Harper snaps back, acting like she¡¯s not


    bothered at all by Tristan¡¯s words. Watching them exchange blows is painful, like two sets of knives being thrown across the hall. I can¡¯t take it. ¡°How many girls did you sleep with during first year? Two dozen? Three dozen? More?¡±


    Tristan grits his teeth and opens his mouth, but I¡¯m already stepping between the two of them.


    ¡°No bullying,¡± I tell him, looking into his eyes, ¡°not even toward her.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± he snaps, but I mean it. I intend to be queen here,


    even over the king. I¡¯ve made up my mind. The boys might be the muscle behind my rise to social power at Burberry Prep, but they¡¯re too cruel to rule on their own.


    ¡°Not even toward her. Let¡¯s go.¡± I take off down the hall, pausing just once to nce back and look at Isabe. ¡°And if you have to do this Infinity Club thing, there are other sponsors, you know.¡± I turn back around and take off, and surprisingly enough ¡­ Tristan follows.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to wish you¡¯d never met me-either of you,¡± Harper calls out from behind us, but I¡¯m done with her. ¡°You¡¯re going to fucking bleed for this!¡±


    Tristan and I take off down the hall, but when I reach for his hand, he pulls away. His face is tight and dark, like thunderclouds have rolled over his expression. He won¡¯t look at me.


    ¡°Are you angry because I stopped you from retaliating?¡± I ask, but he just briefly nces my way. Dressed in his fourth year uniform, he¡¯s intimidating as fuck, I¡¯ll admit that. Doubly so when we step outside and he pens me against the wall.


    ¡°What do you think about what she said, about Lizzie?¡± I blink back at him, breathing in his cinnamon and peppermint smell, my heart bouncing around inside my chest like a kid in a blow-up castle.


    I look to the side, toward the waiting cars that¡¯ll take us out to the football field.


    ¡°I think ¡­ what Lizzie did to free herself of an unwanted engagement and take control of her own destiny is admirable.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Tristan cks his teeth together and pushes up off the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and lording over me in a way that makes me want to squirm. Well, it¡¯s true, I think, but I know I¡¯m pretty much bullshitting myself. My current urge is to excuse myself to my dorm, so I can punch something soft and fluffy-preferably that new pink feather pillow with the fur on it that says Princess that Windsor got me for my birthday (I hate it by the way, and I¡¯m pretty sure he knew I would). ¡°You think it¡¯s admirable how hard Lizzie Walton is fighting to be with me?¡±


    ¡°It takes courage to fight for one¡¯s love, particrly in the face of adversary,¡± I continue, and Tristan makes this choking sound in his throat which somehow still manages to sound aristocratic and elegant. What do I know? Maybe being born of such a long and distinguished line really does make his blood blue? If I were to make a noise like that, I¡¯d sound like a coughing donkey.


    ¡°Fight for one¡¯s love ¡­ huh?¡± His voice trails off, and he scowls, turning away and cursing under his breath. I take a step forward, my hand reaching out and then dropping by my side. I want to tell him ¡­ that I¡¯m jealous as all get-out, that I don¡¯t like knowing Lizzie fought so hard to get past her parents¡¯ objections because that means that now, she¡¯s got a clear shot to him.


    ¡°The lifestyle he¡¯s ustomed to ¡­¡± I start, watching as Tristan pauses next to one of the waiting limos and turns around to look at me. He crosses


    his arms over his chest and raises both dark brows in question. I start to move forward, but slowly, as the thought dawns on me.


    Even if Tristan and I both got into Bornstead (we will, considering one of us is going to be valedictorian and the other salutatorian-I better be the former) and worked our asses off, got good degrees and even better jobs, it¡¯s likely he¡¯d never live the Vanderbilt lifestyle again. The best he could really hope for is upper middle-ss.


    What if that¡¯s a deal breaker? What if I¡¯m holding him back?


    Aaaaand, there it is. You¡¯re letting Harper win, letting her get to you. This is exactly the sort of poison dart she meant to throw.


    Exhaling and squaring my shoulders, I take off toward the limo and climb in.


    When Tristan gets in behind me, I scoot right onto hisp, grab his face in my hands and kiss him.


    The sensation of our mouths touching is sharp, almost painful, like he¡¯s cutting me with a knife and making me bleed, but then healing me right after. Pain, pleasure. Sharpness, soothing. A dichotomy. Tristan Vanderbilt¡¯s mouth, much like Zayd Kaiser¡¯s tattoos, is a warning.


    I¡¯m hot and wild, and desperate for your touch ¡­ but stay away from me or you¡¯ll taste my venom.


    With a groan, I pull away from him, and he looks at me like I might be the most confusing thing he¡¯s ever encountered in his entire life.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I hate football games,¡± he tells me, but he lets me pull him out of the car anyway, leaving me only when I¡¯m


    safely deposited next to Coach Hannah.

 252

    The Mess is fairly quiet, and we don¡¯t have any showdowns at the high table like we didst year. Turns out Harper has carved a new niche for herself in the rear courtyard. Fine by me. I¡¯d rather not battle over chicken cordon bleu with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted zhini, thank you very much.


    I pick at my te and wonder about Isabe, if she really is my full sister like Harper is iming, if she¡¯s mixed up in Infinity Club bullshit already. I¡¯ve asked the boys, but they all swear they have no idea, that if she is being sponsored by one of the Harpies, they don¡¯t know about it.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything,¡± Lizzie says, handing her te up to waiter when he stops by. I send him with mine as well, even though I didn¡¯t eat much. I¡¯m too distracted, and all the boys (plus Miranda) are busy right now, so ¡­ it¡¯s just me and her.


    To say it¡¯s awkward as hell would be an understatement. We¡¯ve been back at school for several weeks now, and Lizzie and I only talk in group settings really.


    I guess it¡¯s hard to be friends when you¡¯re both after the same guy. That makes me sad somehow, like girl power should extend beyond that. Girl code would dictate that Lizzie not go after Tristan at all, right? Not after you and him started dating. But I can¡¯t begrudge her for her feelings, so I look up and try to make myself smile.


    ¡°If I could just get Isabe alone somehow ¡­¡± I trail off and nibble at my lower lip. ¡°The thing is, she¡¯s always surrounded by Harpies or Company a- holes.¡± The hidden big sister gene inside of me res to life, and I so desperately want to warn Isabe away from those guys. None of them are good for her. Then again, you¡¯re dating five of the biggest assholes in school, so how can you really talk?


    Dating five guys.


    I¡¯m an ¡­ interesting role model, surely.


    I mean, not that there¡¯s anything wrong with it if we¡¯re all consenting adults, but I can¡¯t get past the idea of the boys also dating multiple girls. I would hate it. I wouldn¡¯t be okay with it. I ¡­ I¡¯m a big, fat hypocrite.


    Putting my hands over my face, I lean my elbows on the table and sigh. ¡°Are you angry with me?¡± Lizzie asks after a few moments, and I nce


    up, meeting her amber eyes. She was there for me at the lodge when I needed her; she¡¯s helped me defend myself against the Infinity Club this whole time. How can I really be mad? ¡°I mean, about Tristan and everything.¡±


    Of course she¡¯d have to add that. When she says his name, I ¡­


    ¡°You can¡¯t help who you love,¡± I say, tucking my hands into myp.


    Lizzie nods, but she doesn¡¯t look convinced.


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t, can you?¡± Her voice gets soft, and she closes her eyes like she¡¯s fighting against some sort of inner pain. I watch her for a moment, until she opens her gaze again and looks at me. ¡°Do you know why Tristan¡¯s dad hates me so much?¡±


    I perk up a bit at that.


    ¡°Actually, no.¡± I pause, picking up my iced tea and holding it between my palms, waiting for her to borate.


    ¡°One of the Vanderbilt¡¯s biggest debtors ¡­ is my family. They owe us nearly a billion dors.¡± My mouth drops open and Lizzie shrugs. ¡°My parents don¡¯t want me with him because they don¡¯t want his family benefiting from our money. That, and I guess they¡¯d feel weird going after a family member for an outstanding debt. That¡¯s all it is; it alles down to money. But finally, finally, I got them to make a bet I could win.¡± She smiles, but I¡¯m guessing she isn¡¯t going to tell me what that bet was. The thing is, from what I¡¯ve learned about the Infinity Club, it¡¯s all about making


    the macro, micro, aboutpressing the big, wide world of money and politics, religion and economics, and making it work on a smaller scale.


    Fortunes are won and lost in the Infinity Club. Lives are ruined.


    Allies are forged.


    It¡¯s a double-edged sword.


    And frankly, it scares the shit out of me.


    I¡¯m a pawn in a much bigger game. A much, much bigger game.


    ¡°My parents lost, so they had to listen to me plead Tristan¡¯s case. They had to consider him. He has a good bloodline, so ¡­¡± She shrugs, but I already figured all of this out based on what Harper told me. I don¡¯t need to know anymore. ¡°Basically, we¡¯d make pretty babies.¡± She flushes and tucks some of her hair behind her ear before looking up at me from under long eyshes. ¡°I hate to pry, but have you and Tristan ¡­?¡±


    My cheeks flush, and my mouth opens but no soundes out. I close my lips and shake my head.


    ¡°Not yet.¡± Somehow, it sounds like I emphasized the word yet, even if I didn¡¯t mean to.


    ¡°I see.¡± Lizzie says, and then she stands up, tucking her pleated ck skirt under her thighs. ¡°Shall we go find Tristan then? I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s in the physicsb working on a project.¡± I nod and follow her out, even though that doesn¡¯t sound like the greatest way to spend an afternoon.


    Tristan is, indeed, in the physicsb when we head over there, but he barely talks to either of us. Actually, he looks sort of pissed off when we walk in together.


    ¡°Did you two get tired of holding hands, skipping, and making daisy chains?¡± he asks sarcastically, and I notice he¡¯s making a critical error with the form on the paper next to him. I bite my lip and raise up on my toes, lifting the heels of my shiny ck shoes off the floor.


    ¡°Just inside the parentheses, it¡¯s actually one plus two times h times v to the third power.¡± Tristan pauses and looks up at me, his eyes practically glowing silver.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± he growls as I grit my teeth.


    ¡°I mean, like no ¡­¡± I gesture randomly at his paper as Lizzie looks back and forth between us, tucking dark hair behind her ear and forcing augh. ¡°You literally wrote to the fourth power, and-¡±


    ¡°Get the fuck out of my ssroom,¡± he snarls at me, but I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not about to walk away and just let h


    im screw up the equation like that.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

 253

    ¡°You see, v is the frequency being observed and-¡±


    ¡°I know v is the frequency,¡± Tristan throws back at me, his fingers clenched so tightly around the pencil that they¡¯re shaking. ¡°And I know it¡¯s to the third power. This is a typo.¡±


    ¡°How is it a typo when you¡¯re writing with pencil?¡± I ask, and he seriously looks at me like he wants to kill me.


    ¡°I have literally no idea what you guys are talking about,¡± Lizzie adds with another giggle, reaching over to run her fingers down Tristan¡¯s bare forearm. He¡¯s taken his zer off, and in a rare move, he¡¯s unbuttoned his shirt until about halfway down. He¡¯s even rolled up his sleeves a bit.


    He nces over at her, but he doesn¡¯t tell her to stop, turning back to look at me in stark defiance.


    ¡°You little smart-ass. You think you¡¯re so knowledgeable with your public school education.¡±


    ¡°Clearly, I am,¡± I retort, lifting my own chin in defiant response. ¡°Because I can see the frantically scrawled page of notes beneath your report. You¡¯ve been messing the form up this entire time. How do you expect to beat me out for valedictorian when you can¡¯t even get the equation for the brightness temperature of the sun-¡±


    Tristan sweeps his arm across his papers and knocks them all to the floor, panting furiously, teeth gritted at me in a snarl.


    ¡°Tristan, don¡¯t, she¡¯s just trying to be helpful,¡± Lizzie says, attempting to step between us. The look he gives her is cold hell.


    ¡°Get out,¡± he says, and she gapes at him. She nces back at me once, sympathetically, before scurrying out and closing the door behind her. I turn back to look at Tristan, but I¡¯m not afraid of him, not anymore. He¡¯s just a damaged boy with a cruel streak. I ¡­ shouldn¡¯t want to hold him close and banish his darkness, but I do.


    Fuck me, but I do.


    I¡¯ve fallen for the good girl fixes the bad boy stereotype.


    I need to take more women¡¯s studies sses at Bornstead. Because I will get in. I will. I absolutely will.


    ¡°Who the hell do you think you are,¡± Tristan whispers, his voice like freezing fog off the bay. His eyes are the same color, like a stormy sky above


    the ocean. He moves toward me, putting us so close that the toes of our shoes touch. ¡°Coming in here like that, and getting all mouthy with me.¡±


    ¡°Whoever heard of the king of the school being a brainiac, hmm? Your stereotypes are all messed up. Then again, you got the equation wrong, so


    -¡±Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    Tristan grabs me around the waist and pushes me against the counter so fast that my head spins, positioning himself behind me so he can press his hardness against the curve of my ass. Considering I¡¯m wearing the shortest skirt known to man, all I can do is moan as he reaches around and cups my left breast. With the other hand, he slides the pencil horizontally between my lips, so that I¡¯m biting down on it.


    ¡°To stifle your screams,¡± he whispers, and then his right hand dives down and under my skirt, teasing me and making me moan. The pencil really does help when I clench my teeth around it. ¡°You¡¯re too smart for your own good. It drives me nuts.¡±


    I spit the pencil out, and it bounces across the soapstone counters, bumping up against a silver propane faucet.


    ¡°Clearly, it does more than just that,¡± I manage to whisper as Tristan


    exhales against my ear, rubbing against me. He¡¯s so close to breaking, so damn close. I want him inside of me so badly. I hate that he¡¯s been with other girls and not me. I hate that he¡¯s been with Lizzie. The thought makes me sick. ¡°You like it when I¡¯m a smart-ass.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so infuriating,¡± he whispers, nuzzling against me. ¡°I don¡¯t understand you and your mentality at all. You don¡¯t like money, and you don¡¯t care about status. You memorize ridiculous forms, and you defend monsters like Harper du Pont. Who are you, and where did youe from?¡± ¡°Marnye Elizabeth Reed, from the wrong side of the tracks,¡± I say, and Tristan yanks me even harder against him. He¡¯s going to be difficult to handle, I imagine. He might be dark in the bedroom. I don¡¯t care. I seriously


    don¡¯t care. ¡°At your service.¡±


    ¡°Huh, right,¡± Tristan scoffs, pushing away from me just before the door opens and one of the chemistry teachers walks in-I can¡¯t remember her name, but she waves and smiles at me anyway. Clearly, she can¡¯t see how worked-up I am right now, how hard my nipples are under my ck button- up, how wet my panties are. Thank God thatdy boners are invisible, right?


    ¡°At my service. You only heel to one leash, Marnye, and that¡¯s your own. Get the fuck out of here, and let me finish my work.¡±


    Tristan reaches around me to snatch the pencil, spins it around and carefully erases the erroneous four on his paper. I smirk as I straighten my skirt out, turning around and walking backwards for a moment, like a total badass.


    ¡°Have fun writing up that physics report with a massive boner,¡± I say, and then I m right into the chemistry teacher-that¡¯s right, her name is Miss Terrenova-making her grunt.


    ¡°Massive boner?¡± she asks, and my face mes with heat. ¡°Miss Reed, is that really appropriate conversation to be having in a ce of learning?¡±


    ¡°Actually Miss Terrenova, I feel ufortable with her in here, like she¡¯s trying to fuck me with her eyes.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Vanderbilt,¡± Miss Terrenova scolds, but she shoos me out the door anyway, my face ming. Lizzie¡¯s still there, waiting to escort me back to my room, but she looks confused, like she expected one thing to happen between me and Tristan ¡­ and got another.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I choke out, before I embarrass myself any further.


    I can only take so much humiliation for one day.


    Somehow, I figured when I turned eighteen, I¡¯d magically be an adult and seem cool somehow.


    Far from it: I feel more awkward than I ever have in my life, like a queen with a stic crown.


    Now, if someone would


    just reach out and help me fix it ¡­

 254

    When Dad shows up for Parents¡¯ Week, I excuse myself to the bathroom and hyperventte.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    He looks so bad ¡­ like, really, really bad.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to die,¡± I whisper when Zackes in and curves his arms around me, holding me from behind in thedies¡¯ restroom while fat tears drip down my face, and my body shakes with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Find a cure, save him, it screams, but how can I? What can I do? ¡°Zack, he¡¯s going to die.¡±


    ¡°Nothing is for certain, Marnye,¡± he tells me, his strong voice pulling me back from the edge just enough that I manage to turn around in his arms. He¡¯s got his jersey on again, and I¡¯m back in my uniform for one of the most important games of the year.


    Tonight, there are going to be scouts in the audience. And one of them¡¯s from Bornstead.


    So far as I know, it¡¯s possible each one of these five assholes is considering going to the same college as me. Somehow, that makes things even harder. If they all applied to my school, and I don¡¯t pick them ¡­ is that a betrayal somehow?


    I swipe my arm across my face, but I feel tired. Sort of like Windsor looks nowadays. I¡¯m still worried about him.


    ¡°You saw him Zack, you know him.¡± He narrows his eyes and tightens that full, lush mouth of his into a thin line. Even his sporty grapefruit smell can¡¯t rouse me from the dark depths I¡¯m swimming in. ¡°He looks like a skeleton. He shouldn¡¯t even be here, he should be resting, he-¡±


    ¡°He wants to see his daughter perform, Marnye,¡± Zack says, lifting my chin up and looking into my eyes. ¡°Your dad is here, regardless of his health, because you are the most important thing in his life.¡±


    ¡°Zack, he¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°Marnye.¡± His voice is hard, firm. He forces my panic into retreat, and for the first time in nearly a half an hour, I¡¯m able to get control of myself. ¡°Your dad is here to see you dance, not cry.¡± Zack smiles to soften his words and then cups the side of my face in a huge palm. He¡¯s got those ck lines on his cheeks that football yers always smudge on, and I smile. I¡¯d be checking him out if I weren¡¯t still stopping myself from crying. ¡°Let¡¯s go out there together, and put on brave faces, okay?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell him, and I mean it. He sees my vulnerability, and it doesn¡¯t scare him away. We take hands and head into the hall, meeting Charlie at the row of cars outside.


    Surprisingly enough, Isabe is standing there with Jennifer and the baby. ¡°We waited for you,¡± Jenn says, smiling, and I can¡¯t decide if she¡¯s full of


    shit or if she just feels sorry for me because Charlie is clearly dying. She left me with just one parent, and he became my whole world, my whole heart ¡­ and he¡¯s not going to be around as long as I need him to be.


    I won¡¯t lie to you: it takes effort for me to sit there in that car with her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see you dance tonight,¡± Dad tells me, smiling, the skin on his face crinkling in unfamiliar ways. It¡¯s like he has too much; he just looks gaunt. I should drop out of school and take care of him. The thing is, I know Windsor isn¡¯t skimping on his care. He recently sent me a bunch of profiles for home health aides, so I could pick one to send home to help Charlie with everyday chores.


    But ¡­ time spent at home with him would be worth more than time at school, right? In the grand scheme of life, quality time with loved ones far supersedes academic endeavors.


    ¡°You know I¡¯ve always been clumsy as hell,¡± I say, forcing a grin as Zack squeezes my hand. ¡°It took me a lot to get to this point. Just don¡¯t make fun of me when I¡¯m the worst one on the team.¡± Charlieughs and pulls me


    close, smiling at me ¡­ and then letting his eyes linger on Jennifer and the baby in her arms, on Isabe ¡­


    ¡°I bet you¡¯re the best dancer, Marnye. You¡¯ve always been good at everything you do.¡±


    The limo rumbles down the hill, but Isabe never looks at me. Jennifer makes small talk, but only Zack returns her constant chatter.


    It¡¯s a huge relief when we get to the field and climb out, separating to head to our various activities: Charlie, Jennifer, the baby-whose name is actually Marley, too much like a mixture of mine and Charlie¡¯s forfort-and Isabe head into the bleachers to watch while Zack trots onto the field, and I join the cheerleading squad.


    The scouts aren¡¯t hard to spot in the audience. By the time half-time rolls around, I know exactly which ones they are. They rarely smile, but they get excited when Zack does something just right. Jalen, too, for that matter which sucks. Jalen doesn¡¯t deserve to be quarterback, doesn¡¯t deserve to be scouted. I learned from Miranda during one of our slumber party chats that he used to lie to Ebony and tell her he was wearing a condom when he wasn¡¯t.


    That¡¯s sexual assault, in my book.


    Now I don¡¯t feel nearly as bad for revealing that she was nning on cheating on him.


    Just before our half-time show starts, I notice Zack slipping money into a yer¡¯s hand from the other team. It¡¯s such a weird thing to notice, this subtle sping of palms. But I don¡¯t miss the wad of green that passes between him and Corb Lambert, the star yer for Grenadine Heights.


    Huh.


    Is Zack paying him to throw the game or something? He wouldn¡¯t though. I mean, I don¡¯t think Zack would do that and I don¡¯t believe that Corb would risk his chance of getting scouted for some chump change.


    I don¡¯t have time to worry about it before the show, getting in formation with the group, and executing our dance. We¡¯ve been using these games as practices for our ownpetitions, rather than anything more than that. Cheerleading isn¡¯t what it used to be, just some throw away sport to support the boys. It¡¯s a full-blown athletic endeavor now.


    We move from the dancing portion to the stunt segment of the routine- the part where we throw girls into the air-and I end opposite Kiara, lifting


    Ileana¡¯s tiny form into the air. Everything goes as nned until ites time to have her dismount. Normally, Kiara and I would bend our knees and then lift up with both our legs and arms at the same time, throw Ileana up, and then catch her with linked arms. Our spotter is some random third year that I hardly recognize, and she¡¯s supposed to support Ileana¡¯s ankles, and catch her under the armpits when shees down.


    This isn¡¯t how things go during that session. Instead, both Kiara and the third year girl let go of Ileana, and she turns in mid-air and quite literally kicks me in the face.


    Pain rackets through me as I stumble back and end up on my ass in the grass, blood pouring down my face and into my mouth. Kiara and the other girl manage to catch Ileana anyway,


    and I¡¯m the only one left hurting.

 255

    Coach Hannah runs over to help me up, but I¡¯m too dizzy to stand. I just got nailed hard-and not in a good way.


    The music keeps on pounding through the stadium, and the other girls finish their dance to cheers and pping from both sides. Pretty sure everyone thinks that was idental. Except for me. And Zack.


    He storms over in a rush, panting hard and soaked in sweat, his dark hair


    stered to his forehead. I manage finally to find my feet and push past Coach Hannah to intercept him on his way over.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I murmur through the blood. I¡¯m starting to wonder if my nose might be broken. It hurt too much, and now it doesn¡¯t hurt at all ¡­ Not a good sign. My body¡¯s trying to protect me from the agony. ¡°Zack, don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if they are girls, I¡¯m going to break their faces.¡±


    ¡°No, you aren¡¯t.¡± I put my palms on his chest as he stands there, huge and muscr and panting, trying toe to my rescue in the only way he knows how. Just like with Tristan, I try to get ahold of that dark streak inside of him by drawing his attention away from them and over to me. ¡°The scouts are here. I know you love football; I know you want to y for the NFL, even if you won¡¯t admit it.¡±


    ¡°I can have my grandfather buy a team and put me on it,¡± Zack whispers, but he sounds almost sick when he says it. Sure, he could do that. But he¡¯s like me: he wants to earn his own way. He doesn¡¯t just want to y; he wants to deserve to y.


    ¡°They will get theirs. I promise you that. I promise you.¡± Because this first month at Burberry Prep, I haven¡¯t been doing nothing. I have my notebook. I


    have my rules. Andst year, I let the guys do a lot of the revenge-getting for me.


    This year is going to be different.


    I¡¯m graduating Burberry Prep, and I¡¯m going out with a bang.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You fucking trolls,¡± Zack growls, but the girls behind me justugh, and this time, it¡¯s my turn to reach up and grab his face in my much smaller hands. He turns his bittersweet chocte eyes down to me. They¡¯re narrowed and dark, and I know he¡¯d destroy them if I asked him to-even if it meant losing his spot on both this team and his future college career. ¡°You best watch your backs.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re terrified,¡± Ileana purrs,ughing as Zack looks back down at me, positively shaking with rage. I look around for Charlie, and see him disappearing around the corner, probably heading for the steps toe over here. He doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m dating Zack yet, so ¡­ I only have a second.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pay attention to them; kiss your girlfriend and walk away. That¡¯s it.¡± Zack cups my chin and kisses me deeply in front of both schools, causing several of his teammates to catcall and whistle. I don¡¯t even care that it hurts when he presses his mouth to mine. Even though I¡¯m sure I must taste like blood, I run my tongue over the thickness of his lower lip.


    He seriously has the prettiest freaking mouth.


    With his kiss, Zack ims me, making a low, satisfied male sound in his throat as his tongue sweeps mine, and his big hands mp over my shoulders, squeezing hard. When he finally releases me, I feel like I¡¯ve been marked somehow, branded to the entire stadium as his mate.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a few minutes. Let¡¯s get you cleaned up,¡± he growls, and then he picks me up and carries me over to the bench. The field medic examines me, and decides that it¡¯d be best if I go get checked out at the hospital afterward, just in case. Dad is there, trying to hover over me, Jennifer, too. I wave them both off and manage to talk all the adults involved into letting me sit there with ice on my face, so I can finish watching the game.


    The other boyse down to stand beside me, and Windsor, unsurprisingly, is the one who takes over, pulling me into hisp. He doesn¡¯t say a thing, none of them do, but I can tell they¡¯re all quietly fuming.


    Just as we¡¯re nearing the end of the game, I see Zack give Corb a look.


    Jalen readies himself to throw a forward pass, the sun shining off the ck surface of his helmet.


    He pulls his arm back, and Corb goes right for him. Since he¡¯s the defensive lineman for Grenadine Heights, that makes sense. That¡¯s his job. He tackles Jalen hard, and all I hear as he goes down near me is this awful crunching sound.


    The ref calls a timeout as Jalen screams, and I see all this blood. Like way, way too much blood. I bend down next to him since I¡¯m the nearest person there, and find a shard of ss in his leg.


    ¡°What the ¡­¡±


    I¡¯m pushed aside for the field medic, but not before I palm the ss in my hand and take it with me, stumbling back and slipping it into a cup of water. I pretend to take a drink to calm my nerves, and then chuck it in the trash.


    Zack looks at me from across the field, and our eyes meet.


    Jalen is taken away with a severed artery and a broken femur. His chances of ying for a college team next year ¡­ virtually none. And his dad is some super famous NFL yer, too. It¡¯s all he ever talks about.


    When I get back to my room, I¡¯ll cross his name off my list.


    The game finishes up shortly thereafter, with the victory going to Burberry Prep. It¡¯s a nice change of pace from second year when I fucked-up Zack¡¯s chances at glory.


    I don¡¯t get a chance to talk to him though because we go straight to the hospital after (my nose isn¡¯t broken, thankfully), only to learn I have a possible concussion. Charlie stays up all night with me ying board games in one of the visitor¡¯s cabins, and I spend every moment soaking up my time with him.


    Once he leaves, I can confront Zack.


    He broke one of my rules, and I am not happy about it.


    I storm up to Zack in The Mess and grab one of his big, muscr arms, dragging him away from the ot


    her boys and out into the hallway.

 256

    It¡¯s Monday now, and Charlie¡¯s just left. We have about two weeks until Halloween, and no idea what to do for costumes. No idea what we¡¯re doing to celebrate either. As the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep, we have to throw a party to hold our title. Period. That¡¯s how things work, but where? Windsor¡¯s mom-who, if you think about it, is a freaking princess, right?-is staying at the house we usedst year. Tristan¡¯s been disowned, the Cabots and the Kaisers don¡¯t have a ce close enough, and Zack¡¯s mother is having their vacation home renovated.


    We¡¯re going to have to think up something creative.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been ignoring my texts all weekend,¡± I whisper, but Zack shakes his head, holding up his palms.


    ¡°Never, Marnye. Never. You don¡¯t understand: my grandfather and my dad were here this weekend.¡± I raise my brows; I¡¯ve never met Zack¡¯s dad, but I hear he¡¯s a prick. He frowns hard and looks away from me briefly. ¡°It didn¡¯t go well.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re mad about the game?¡± I ask, and Zack shakes his head, looking back at me with his mouth in a tight, t line. He exhales, closing his eyes and reaching up to ruffle his short, dark hair with his fingers.


    ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    I wait for him to borate. He doesn¡¯t. I decide to address my issue first then.


    ¡°I said no violence, Zack,¡± I whisper, because I don¡¯t want to win this thing by resorting to their tactics.


    He looks back at me, and at least I can tell that his face is etched with shame.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know about the ss,¡± he says, shaking his head. ¡°But none of the staff knows Corb actually stabbed him; they all think there was some debris in the grass.¡±


    ¡°I saw you pay Corb to hurt Jalen,¡± I tell him, crossing my arms under my breasts. Zack studies my face and sighs, like he has no excuse for what he¡¯s done. He looks down at the floor between us, and closes his eyes for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯d do anything to protect you,¡± he says, lifting his head up and opening his eyes. ¡°Jalen was dangerous, Marnye. You don¡¯t hear the locker room talk that I hear.¡± He looks right at me, lifting his head up. ¡°Yes, I paid Corb to take Jalen down harder than necessary, but I didn¡¯t know about the ss. If it


    makes you feel better, Jalen broke a ss bottle against Corb¡¯s brother¡¯s face at a Hamptons party this summer. A piece of ss cut his carotid artery; he almost died.¡±


    We stand there, facing each other, but I don¡¯t know what to say. I¡¯m conflicted.


    ¡°Sometimes you can¡¯t fight darkness with words, Marnye.¡± Zack tucks his big hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket. ¡°There¡¯s ¡­ a lot going on that you don¡¯t know about.¡±


    ¡°Then tell me,¡± I plead, ¡°because I literally just read a manga with a plot like this. The guys kept the information away from the heroine until it was toote, and then ¡­¡±


    ¡°Infinity Club rules,¡± Zack growls out, like he¡¯s in serious pain. He pulls his hands from his jacket pockets and braces my shoulders with them. ¡°If we tell you, we lose a serious advantage. And we can¡¯t lose this, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°Zack ¡­¡± I start, as he slides his palms down the arms of my ck zer. ¡°My grandfather doesn¡¯t want me to date you,¡± he whispers, and my heart seriously chokes. It breaks and stutters in my chest, and I look up at him


    with my lips parted in surprise.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°My mom loves you, Marnye. She loves you. My sister likes you, too. It¡¯s just ¡­ my dad and my grandpa ¡­¡± he trails off, this aching desperation etched into his face. ¡°The only thing they¡¯ve ever agreed on is this.¡±


    ¡°Why ¡­¡± I start, and Zack steps back, releasing me suddenly.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have broken your rules without talking to you first,¡± he says softly, his voice surprisingly rough with emotion. ¡°That was my fuck-up. But, Marnye, I would do it again if I had to. I¡¯ll do anything to protect you, even break your rules.¡± He looks back up at me, and I suck in a sharp breath. He¡¯s too freaking beautiful for words. Too goddamn beautiful. ¡°But I understand if you¡¯re pissed at me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not pissed, but you guys can¡¯t keep doing things behind my back. What¡¯s so much worse than the Harpies trying to get me to kill myself? Than trying to drown me in the pool? Zack ¡­¡± I step forward and put my hand on his chest, and he covers it with both of his. He¡¯s unbelievably warm, and when I lean into him, his scent soothes my nerves a little. ¡°What¡¯s so much worse?¡±


    ¡°Marnye ¡­¡± Zack wraps his arms around me, tucks me into his jacket, and holds me close. It feels weirdly like a goodbye hug, and I don¡¯t like that at all. Not one tiny bit. ¡°Let¡¯s just graduate, and run off to Bornstead, huh? You can be the smart girl on the cheer team, and I¡¯ll y football and sneak into your dorm room at night ¡­¡±


    ¡°What about your family?¡± I ask, but Zack says nothing as I lean back and look up at him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what they think, or what they want. This is my life, not theirs.¡± He pauses as Creed pops out of The Mess, leaning his back against the door to hold it open.


    ¡°Miranda¡¯s got it,¡± he says, and I raise both brows. I feel a little sick with emotion right now, but I wring it out by shaking my hands and taking a deep breath before I force a smile to my face.


    ¡°Got what?¡± I ask, and Creed smiles, slowly, seductively, in a way that warms me from the inside out, chasing away some of the dark shadows.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Our Halloween costumes,¡± he says as Mirandaes panting over, reaching out to grab both my hands in hers. Those blue eyes of hers are sparkling.


    ¡°Royals,¡± she says, grinning big. ¡°We go as royals: princes, princesses ¡­ kings and queens. What do you think? You can wear the crown we got for your birthday. It¡¯s the perfect eff you to Harper, seeing as she and her cronies are trying to coin the term Reigning Royals. So stupid. The Idols and their Inner Circle have ruled this school since ¡­¡± She pauses and then grimaces slightly, looking to me for confirmation.


    ¡°Since it was coined by William Vanderbilt the First, in 1919?¡± I suggest, and Miranda squeals, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a sweet-scented kiss on my cheek.


    I don¡¯t miss Zack¡¯s dark look as he studies me though.


    He says he doesn¡¯t care what his family thinks, but maybe he does? A


    nd I¡¯m sure he¡¯s not the only one.

 257

    ¡°Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?¡± I ask Windsor as we stand inside a bridal shop in Lujo, and I watch the tenth in line to the English throne get a pink bridesmaid dress fitted to his lithe, muscr body. He nces over his shoulder at me, red hair sticking up, hazel eyes twinkling.


    ¡°Go right ahead, my darling,¡± he says as the attendant stands up and excuses herself to grab some more pins. She looked at us like we were crazy when we wandered in here looking to get a dress fitted to a teenage boy as a Halloween costume, even more so when she recognized Windsor and then started frantically texting her friend behind the counter.


    Word of this will be all over the Inte by dinnertime. Wind says he doesn¡¯t care, but maybe he does, just not in the way others might think. He might not be ashamed, but he certainly does care: he wants everyone to know just how irreverent he is.Belongs ? to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t your mothere to Parents¡¯ Week?¡± I ask as Windsor examines his dress in the mirror, smoothing his hands down the glittery bodice. He said royals was really a boring theme unless he could dress up like a princess. ¡°I¡¯ve been a prince all my life, what fun is that?¡± So now both he and Andrew are going in drag. Thetter is currently in the dressing room, testing out his pale blue gown.


    ¡°My mother?¡± Windsor asks, frowning, and then shrugging his shoulders like it doesn¡¯t matter much either way. ¡°Too busy being a beloved princess, I


    suppose. The press worships her, you know. They talk about what she wears to every event, who she dates, how she fucking smiles.¡± Wind shes an angry grin, one that¡¯s half mirth, half simply gritting his teeth. ¡°She can barely take a shit without the media snapping photos of her asking what toilet paper she uses. What a horrible existence. Can you only imagine?¡±


    Windsor turns back to the mirror, and puts his hands on his hips, pouting his lips and giving this sassy little sway.


    ¡°That bothers you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I ask, stepping up on the dais next to him and fluffing his skirt. ¡°Having to share your mom with the world?¡± Wind¡¯s eyes slide over to me, and he raises his eyebrows at me.


    ¡°You think that¡¯s what bothers me?¡± he asks, smiling sharply. ¡°Oh bloody hell, love. No. It terrifies me, a life like that, having every move amplified until it means a hundred times more than it rightfully should. I don¡¯t want people looking at me like some sort ofmunity pir.¡± He turns back to the mirror, pausing as Andrewes out and nts his own hands on his hips.


    The dress ¡­ actually looks really good on him, like passably good. He makes a very fishy drag queen (fishy is like ¡­ womanly; I have no idea where the terme from, but that¡¯s what it is).


    ¡°You should apply for RuPaul¡¯s Drag Race,¡± I squeal, putting my hands over my mouth. With just the wig, the padding, and the dress, Andrew Payson really does look a little like a princess.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m always in drag anyway,¡± he mumbles, studying himself in the five-way mirror. ¡°Okay, we¡¯ll take it.¡± He nods at the seamstress as shees out of the back with a fresh pin cushion. She pauses to help Andrew undo the back of his gown, and I study Wind¡¯s tight, stoic expression.


    I¡¯ve just barely scratched the surface of Windsor York, but I feel like I have to know more. I need to know more.


    I move out of the way, so he can finish up his dress fitting, and then I take a turn of my own.


    By the time we¡¯re done in there, we¡¯ve definitely blown my original idea of the budget, but neither Andrew nor Windsor looks bothered at throwing down their cards and paying. When I take my own turn at the register, waiting to hear the price of the dress to see if I can afford it with the price of the alterations included, Windsor grabs my arm and yanks me into his.


    ¡°Ady of the court never pays for her own gowns,¡± he purrs, looking down at me with just a hint of a wicked smile. ¡°I¡¯ve got it, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me that,¡± I say with augh, pulling away from him. The three of us step out into the sunshine, pausing at a bookstore down the street before rejoining the others at the cafe.


    I try to be surreptitious when I slip over to the manga section, looking for more yaoi. There¡¯s one wrapped in stic that says Explicit: Eighteen Plus Only! on the back. One corner¡¯s already torn, and it looks like someone peeked inside already. I mean, since the deed is already done ¡­ I peek myself and feel my cheeks flush when I see the explicitness of the art.


    Whoa.


    Definitely getting this one.


    ¡°What¡¯s this? More of your gauche manga?¡± Creed asks, surprising me by drawing the manga out of my hand and over my head. I spin around to find him standing behind me, dressed in a loose, slightly wrinkled blue button- down and jeans. He doesn¡¯t even try to hide his actions from the bookshop employees when he peels the stic off and flips right to a dirty scene. His pale blond brows go up. ¡°My, my, Marnye. What have we got here?¡±


    ¡°Give that back,¡± I whisper, trying to snag it from him, but he¡¯s quick, lifting it out of reach so he can stare at the two dudes, um, well, to put it nicely ¡­ fucking? Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.


    ¡°Whoooooa there,¡± Zayd says, slumping his inked body over Creed¡¯s shoulders and peeking at the pages as Creed frowns at him, and scowls. ¡°What the fuck is this? Sensitive Pornograph? Is that the title, really, Charity? The Queen of the Elite really is a perv.¡± Zayd grabs the manga and tucks it under his arm, reaching up to twist some of his sea green hair into little spikes. ¡°I¡¯ll buy this for you; maybe it¡¯ll give you ideas for our next fuck.¡±


    Creed sneers, and leans his shoulder against one of the bookcases, like it¡¯s simply too much effort for him to stand up straight. Like any of the super- rich, he doesn¡¯t seem to care that he¡¯s in a public space. No, the whole world just belongs to him; that¡¯s t


    he way things should be.

 258

    Really, they¡¯re all like that at times.


    ¡°Gee, thanks,¡± I say, but my cheeks are flushed anyway. Between schoolwork, cheerleading, harp, and hanging out with everyone ¡­ there¡¯s not a lot of time for sex. Or maybe I¡¯m just not making time for it because I


    don¡¯t know how to bnce all these guys? In reality, I sort of went from zero to a hundred pretty quick. Virgin to ¡­ having been with three different dudes.


    I exhale as Creed narrows his blue eyes on Zayd.


    ¡°From what I hear, you really were a two-pump chump. Maybe that should be the name of your next album? How to Come Quick and Leave Disappointment in My Wake. It¡¯s as long and stupid as your nickname.¡±


    ¡°Hah,¡± Zayd says, rolling his green eyes and then reaching over my head to grab another manga off the shelf. This one¡¯s about a haunted hot springs hotel haunted by a sexy ghost. I see a lot of boobage as Zayd flips through the novel. This, too, he tucks under his arm. He snaps his fingers in Creed¡¯s direction. ¡°You¡¯re hrious, bro. Really, bravo.¡± He faux ps his inked hands, and then shes me a wicked grin, the two silver piercings in his lip sharp and pointed like arrows. I¡¯ve already tried running my tongue over them, and all they do is make it tingle. I thought they¡¯d hurt at first, but they don¡¯t. I really like them actually.


    ¡°What are you two doing here anyway? I thought you were waiting at the cafe.¡±


    ¡°Eh, Lizzie and Tristan got into this super deep conversation,¡± Zayd says with a shrug as Creed watches him with a sharpness that belies the nonchnt slump of his beautiful body. Carefully, he tucks his pale fingers into his pockets. ¡°Talk about boring as fuck. We bailed on that quick.¡±


    ¡°You are such an impossible idiot,¡± Creed drawls, turning his attention over to me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Marnye. He doesn¡¯t mean to be crass, rude, and oblivious. He can¡¯t help it. He has no mom, his dad¡¯s a crack-addicted groupie-obsessed rockstar, and his grandma is so enamored with the family business, she once forgot him at a summer camp, and the police had to drive him home. Remember that, Zayd?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you get fucked?¡± Zayd purrs, but he stalks off with a scowl, and I can tell Creed¡¯s hit a nerve.


    ¡°You¡¯re being a bully,¡± I tell him, crossing my arms and giving him my sternest stare. He turns back to me and then shrugs his shoulders so loosely andzily that it almost looks like an ident.


    ¡°So? You¡¯re either the bully or you¡¯re the one who gets bullied. Surely you¡¯ve learned that by now?¡± He pushes off the shelf and stands up, looking


    down at me with the idle gaiety of the super-rich. He¡¯s amused, but it¡¯s expected for the world to amuse him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowing bullying at Burberry Prep, you know that.¡± I give him a look. ¡°I don¡¯t consider getting revenge being a bully.¡±


    ¡°Riiiiight,¡± Creed drawls, turning around and running his fingers along the edge of the bookshelf, all the way to the end before he nces over his shoulder at me. ¡°The predator or the prey, Marnye. It¡¯s a fact of life.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be that way,¡± I say, following after him and around the corner. From here, I can see Miranda, Zack, and Andrew sitting at one of the tables on the raised seating area that rings the bookshop¡¯s own small cafe. It¡¯s nothingpared to the one across the street, the one with the firece and the bigfy chairs, but it¡¯s still cute.


    ¡°I was bullied in middle school for being rich. Poor kids can be cruel, too, you know.¡± He pauses at a shelf full of mystery novels with cartoon cats on them, with titles that are all puns about food and animals. Things like The Cat¡¯s Killer Gives Police Paws. Get it? Creed spins the shelf around, idly browsing the books.


    ¡°First off, those kids you went to school with in Grenadine Heights would


    generally be considered upper middless. To the students at Lower Banks, they¡¯d appear to be pretty damn rich themselves. But you¡¯re right. You¡¯re right: every person has the capacity to be cruel. The thing is, we¡¯re all human. We also have the intelligence and the empathy necessary to temper that cruelty.¡± I grab one of Creed¡¯s pale hands, and he pauses, looking down at me. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you guys at your worst; I want to see you at your best.¡±


    He exhales and lets me curl my fingers through his, pulling me close. When Lizzie and Tristan walk in together a momentter, I do my best not to act like a jealous weirdo.


    It¡¯s okay: Creed does it for me.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a fucking fool, hanging out with another girl when you¡¯ve got a beautiful girlfriend right here.¡±From N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Quiet, sloth,¡± Tristan snaps back, meeting Creed¡¯s dark stare with one of his own. He might be a ¡®charity case¡¯, but the filthy rich brat inside of him is still there, waiting to rear its wealthy head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go take a nap somewhere and mind your own business?¡±


    Creed lets go of me, but I¡¯m afraid a confrontation between him and Tristan is iing, so I step between them, my eyes meeting Lizzie¡¯s amber


    ones. Her expression gives nothing away.


    ¡°Did you get what you needed for the prince¡¯s stupid costume?¡± Tristan asks,pletely deadpan. He¡¯s been like that since Vanderbilt Manor, like a beautiful, broken doll. It¡¯s upsetting to me. I just ¡­ I want to shake him. I want to y Twister again, I ¡­


    ¡°We got it,¡± I tell him as Windsor appears over the railing above us, leaning over to tickle my hair.


    ¡°I¡¯ve ordered you a cup of tea,¡± he says, ncing back at the counter. ¡°And I¡¯ve warned the barista of the consequences of failing. Join me?¡± He stands back up, and I nod, grabbing Creed¡¯s hand ¡­ and then Tristan¡¯s. I pull him away from Lizzie, but not before I see her lips part in surprise.


    The way she frowns when she joins us at the table a few momentster tells me that that one small action was a bold move in her eyes.


    I can only imagine that things


    might amp up from here on out.

 259

    Halloween is always a big thing for us, particrly this year. Not only is it ourst high school Halloween party, but it¡¯s also our best chance to make a definitive stand for the school and crush Harper¡¯s minor uprisingpletely.


    Only the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep can host the Halloween party. After some serious deliberation, we decide to use the casino.


    Technically, it¡¯s an Infinity Club property, so that makes our party an Infinity Club party, meaning we¡¯re not allowed to kick the Harpies and the Company out. But that¡¯s okay. We don¡¯t need to kick them out to win. If they¡¯re at our party, we¡¯ve already won.


    I¡¯m all dressed up in a white gown that looks a little too much like a wedding dress for myfort, simr to the one I wore in San Francisco but with even more frills and glittery bits. When the guys saw me, I swear, Creed, Zayd, and Tristan looked terrified ¡­ while Wind and Zack looked far too excited. I¡¯m honestly not even sure which of their expressions was worse.


    The thing is, I¡¯m supposed to be the queen of the school, Harper¡¯s recement. I have to look the part. While Miranda and Lizzie are dressed as princesses-along with Andrew and Windsor, of course-and the Inner Circle girls are decked out like a royal court of aristocrats, I had to elevate the costume. So I wore the crown, the very expensive, very decadent crown.From N?velDrama.Org.


    Windsor stares out the window and into the darkness as we crawl through the trees toward the abandoned building. We were out herest week decorating and hauling pumpkins. It¡¯s not quite the perfect spooky Samhain paradise fromst year, but this isn¡¯t the type of ce you bring caterers and decorators. It¡¯s more of ¡­ a student-only sort of facility.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you drive anymore?¡± I ask, and Windsor nces back at me, his face decked out in as much makeup as I¡¯m wearing. It makes me smile because he¡¯s actually a little bit ¡­ pretty? I made him put a pink shawl on over his dress because his arms are too thick and muscr for the whole ¡®pretty princess¡¯ thing he¡¯s got going on, but secretly I find them hot as hell. ¡°First thing thates up online when I Google you is a list of expensive cars that you¡¯ve totaled.¡±


    ¡°Ah, you Americans and your Googling,¡± he says, which just makes meugh. Some of his American jokes are pretty spot on. That one was just stupid. Still, I liked it anyway. ¡°You know I crashed that yacht into the harbor, right?¡± I nod. I¡¯ve read about that online, too. People were hurt, hospitalized even. There¡¯s one girl who was only just recently released. From what I read, she¡¯s still in the process of learning how to walk.


    I have to admit, that¡¯s some pretty dark stuff.


    ¡°You ¡­ don¡¯t have to talk about it, you know,¡± I tell him, voice quiet. There¡¯s some spooky Halloween music filtering through the speakers, but it¡¯s turned down so low I can hardly hear it. It¡¯s just the two of us in the car. I suggested it because I wanted another private moment to speak with the prince.


    ¡°You may as well know the truth,¡± he says, leaning back against the window and picking at the fabric of his pink dress. ¡°I told you I was coked- up, drunk, and angry, right?¡± I nod and he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. ¡°Did I tell you why I was angry?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± My voice sounds small and quiet as I turn into the casino¡¯s parking lot and find it filled with luxury cars. In just this lot alone, in the value of the vehicles, there¡¯s enough money to put thousands of students through college. Hell, to get them all a doctorate.


    The casino looks so freaking spooky from here, all lit up with orange lights, a billowing ghost set up near the path to the back door. There are even zombie babies hanging from one of the trees, backlit with a green spotlight we stole from the theater department.


    I turn off the engine, and then spin to face Windsor, my white dress crinkling, all that fluffyce and satin spilling over the seat.


    He stares at me across the dark space.


    ¡°My girlfriend was on the dock, partying. She¡¯d just cheated on me with a boy from Eton College.¡± Windsor sighs and reaches up to slick his hair off his forehead. The thing is, he¡¯s wearing a wig today, so all he does is end up fluffing the red-orange bangs. ¡°We had a huge blow-up fight, and I lost it. I got too high, too drunk, and I hit that dock on purpose.¡± My brows go up in surprise when Windsor¡¯s voice colors with vitriol and old anger. ¡°I did it on bloody purpose, and then I saw her, crushed and bleeding under some rubble. I ¡­¡± He looks away, toward a group of giggling girls all dressed up like, well, you know how I feel about this word, but ¡­ slutty vampires. I mean, I only say that because they have thongs and fiss on with their capes and teeth.


    ¡°Windsor,¡± I start, reaching out to take his hand. I almost expect him to pull away, but he doesn¡¯t. Surprisingly, he lets me take it and give him a little squeeze.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to drive since. I just feel sick when my hands touch a


    wheel. Doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s a car, a boat, or a fucking bumper car.¡± He pulls his hand from mine. ¡°So when I told you I was a bit of a wanker, I wasn¡¯t lying. I¡¯ve been awful, Marnye. I¡¯ve done terrible, terrible things. If you were to look at me with a magnifying ss, you¡¯d probably find Mr. Vanderbilt squeaky clean byparison.¡± Windsor pulls his hand from mine, and steps out of the car before I get a chance to respond.


    The haunted look in his eyes though, that sticks with me for the rest of the night.


    We must look pretty fucking cool when we walk into that party together, dressed up like a royal procession with crowns and ballgowns, cravats and colorful coats with long, trailing tails for the boys. The crowd parts easily,


    leaving us a clear path past the slot machines, dry ice fog curling around our ankles.


    Harper and her new friends are already there, Isabe still clinging faithfully by their side. They¡¯re all in various types of animal costumes. Again, I don¡¯t mean to use the word slutty, but ¡­


    They watch us we pass, heading for the drink station in a room that looks like it was probably once a diner or something. Now, vines curl through cracks in the walls, and the scattered pir candles make it look extra spooky.


    Miranda drifts off to find Jessie, Andrew does the same for Gary, and I¡¯m left with the guys ¡­


    and Lizzie.


    Fucking Lizzie.

 260

    Is it terrible that I just want her to go away?


    The boys get themselves drinks, either cans, bottles, or Solo cups with fancy cocktails like Windsor enjoys. I let them have fun with that, and even though I really liked the pot I tried at Zayd¡¯s party, I decline the joint when he passes it to me.


    I have other things to do here tonight.


    There are students from every year, almost exclusively from Burberry Prep. The first and second years don¡¯t remember what it was like when Harper and the boys ruled over the school with iron fists of cruelty, but they look at me like a member of the elite, all the same. I bet most of them went to the Burberry elementary and middle school campuses which aren¡¯t far from ours; they probably know all the goings on at the high school from older siblings and online gossip.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    The guys don¡¯t ask where I¡¯m going, but they do sort of trail behind me in a procession. I don¡¯t admit to them how much I like that.


    Instead, I wait for the Harpies and their Company thugs (Jalen was thest original male Blueblood left, and now he¡¯s gone, too, so it¡¯s all new guys) to settle into one corner of the lounge with their drinks, some cards, and those awful, awful knuckle bones.


    ¡°Deal a hand, du Pont,¡± I tell her, sweeping my dress under my thighs and taking a seat at the table. Harper narrows her eyes on me, sitting on some fourth year¡¯sp in her pink tights and furry kitty paws. ¡°Because I¡¯m going to wipe the floor with you.¡±


    Sheughs at me and sits up, still perched on thepany asshole¡¯sp.


    ¡°Really, Working Girl? You want to make a bet with me?¡±


    ¡°If I win, you¡¯re to stop associating with Isabe Carmichael, and you¡¯re not to tell a soul about her father.¡±


    ¡°Which one: the real or the fake?¡± Harper quips, and Becky giggles, that horrible hyenaugh I hated from moment one. I ignore her. I started with a big list. It¡¯s much, much smaller now. It¡¯s just a matter of time before every name is crossed off of it.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re helping me?¡± Isabe scoffs, dressed up like a ¡­ sorry, here it goes again: slutty mouse. Even Miranda uses the word slutty on Halloween, and she¡¯s the biggest anti slut-shaming advocate I know. I don¡¯t even mean it as an insult, just a descriptor. ¡°Leave me alone, Marnye. I don¡¯t want anything to do with you.¡±


    Her words hurt, but I brush them aside.


    ¡°What do I get if I win?¡± Harper asks me, smiling prettily. She has a nice mouth. If she used it for something other than smirking, sneering, or scowling then maybe more people would notice? ¡°There¡¯s nothing you have, Working Girl, that I can¡¯t get for myself.¡±


    ¡°You mean besides real friends, a dad that love me unconditionally, and


    your ex-fiance?¡± I quip, and Harper stands up, mming her palms t on the table. Becky stopsughing, and Ileana pauses to fix her boobs in her too-tight corset.


    ¡°If I win, you stop all this Blueblood nonsense.¡± She chucks a crumpled orange flyer at me, and I unfold it to find our Halloween party information printed on the front. Denounce the false royals, dance with the Bluebloods it says. Miranda and I designed them in Photoshop, and Zack made copies for us in the staff copy room by picking the lock. ¡°You publicly denounce your role as Idol, ssh it on social media, and crawl back into your hole where you belong.¡±


    ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack warns, but it¡¯s toote. I¡¯m reaching out and grabbing Harper¡¯s hand.


    Isabe scoffs, but she doesn¡¯t go anywhere as we set up a game.


    We recruit six random students from the crowd, and set up a regr round of Texas Hold ¡®Em. First person to a hundred thousand dors wins. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s real or fake money we¡¯re ying with, but knowing the Club ¡­ it¡¯s gotta be real, right?


    ¡°We¡¯ve got your buy-in,¡± Creed whispers, leaning down to speak against my ear. I shiver and nce up at him, dressed in a royal blue jacket with gold buttons, a frilly white cravat, and tight, tight white pants with ck boots. He¡¯s got a crown perched on his white-blond hair, and thezy air of a neenth century aristocrat. ¡°Take her to the cleaners, Marnye.¡± He nods, and chips are passed out. It¡¯s a twenty-grand buy-in. No surprise since the Infinity Club doesn¡¯t like to do anything in small measures.


    Harper¡¯s a lot harder to read than I thought, mostly because she spends the entire game smirking and scowling. We y several hands, and very quickly, the other students realize they¡¯re outmatched, folding and then collecting what¡¯s left of their money before they bail.


    There¡¯s always someone else to take their ce.


    ¡°Even if you win,¡± Isabe says, standing up after a few rounds. The boys are all fanned behind me like a protective unit, Lizzie hovering nearby. They tense when Isabe moves up to stand beside me. I nce up and find her eyes like flint, her smile as sharp as a knife. She really does look like a mini- Harper, all privilege and spoilt ruin. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Separating me from my friends won¡¯t make you my sister. You¡¯re nothing. You¡¯re so unimportant that Mom dumped you and left you at a public bathroom.¡± Well, a rest stop technically, but ¡­ I exhale and stare her down, pretending her words don¡¯t hurt even when they do. ¡°She told me that, years ago. She even asked me if I wanted to meet you, and you know what I said?¡± Isabe¡¯s smile sours even further. ¡°I told her no. Why would I want to meet some girl that Mom dumped so long ago? If she¡¯d cared about you, or thought you were worthwhile, why wouldn¡¯t she have kept you?¡± Isabe shrugs, tosses her hair, and then turns to grab a mask from one of the bins near the door to the massive dance hall.


    Ghosts and ghouls spin with sparkling masquerade masks to a ssical music ylist I set upst week. It¡¯s all dark, spooky stuff. My favorite song is the Masquerade Suite: Waltz. I¡¯d like to dance to it tonight, if I could.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± I whisper, but Creed puts his hand on one of my shoulders while Zack squeezes the other. I look back to see Tristan, Windsor, and Zayd all there in support, too. They¡¯re all looking at me like maybe I am worthwhile. After all, if I weren¡¯t ¡­ then why are they all still here? All five of them. It¡¯d be much easier to dump me and date another girl, right? And based on who they are, t


    hey could have any really.

 261

    I turn back to Harper, and find her watching me like a lioness watches a gazelle.


    She licks her lips. Let¡¯s y.


    We go several more rounds, but when thest cards are shown and I rake in the chips, it¡¯s me whoes out victorious.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± she snarls, mming her hand into her own pile of winnings and sending them flying. ¡°You rigged that!¡±


    ¡°We all saw that she didn¡¯t,¡± Tristan snaps at her as I stand up and re down at Harper¡¯s scowling face.


    ¡°I¡¯m from Lower Banks. Don¡¯t you know poor kids always y poker better than rich ones? Now leave my sister alone.¡±


    I turn and start off toward the dance hall. I¡¯ve brought a special treat with me tonight.


    ¡°I can¡¯t really leave her alone, you know,¡± Harper calls out, and I pause just long enough to grab a shimmering white masquerade mask. There are white pumpkins carved and set all around the ballroom, flickering and adding to the ambiance. ¡°I¡¯m her sponsor! And you know what bet she made to get into the Club: she¡¯s refused to acknowledge her real father even once before he dies. What a happy parting gift that¡¯ll be for him, won¡¯t it, Marnye? To know he had a second daughter out there who, once she finally realized the truth, shunned him in spite of it.¡±


    My heart stumbles past a few beats, and I feel my eyes get hot and wet. ¡°Marnye ¡­¡± Creed reaches out to take my shoulder, but I breeze past him,


    cutting across the dance floor to the pedal harp on the other side. I asked some of the other orchestra members to help me load it up, and they did, without a bribe or anything else for that matter. Sometimes it feels good to be queen.


    Other times, it sucks serious ass.


    That can¡¯t be true, I tell myself as I sit down at the harp, and nod at the boys to pause the music. The dance floores to a swaying stop. Well, about half the students pause to wait for the music to restart. The other half are too drunk or high to care, so they keep dancing and giggling. Isabe ¡­ she really is my full sister?


    This is something I¡¯m going to have to talk to Dad about, whether I like it or not.


    Forcing back the tears, I put my fingers to the strings and start plucking the spooky but whimsical notes of Carnival of the Animals: VII. ¡®Aquarium¡¯. At first, the other students don¡¯t seem to know what to do with it, but then they realize they¡¯re not really supposed to be dancing.


    There¡¯s supposed to watch.


    During first year, they ruined my harp solo.


    Now, they¡¯re going to sit here and listen to me y. Closing my eyes, I work through my emotions with the music, teasing the strings with my fingertips and letting the sound echo around the old casino. When I open them again, I see Isabe watching me from the corner. Even with her masquerade mask on, I know who she is.


    I won¡¯t give up on her.


    Even if she made that bet ¡­ she can talk to Charlie. It¡¯s not breaking a bet: it¡¯s losing one. I want her to want to lose. She doesn¡¯t need to be a part of the Infinity Club.


    When I finish my song, I stand up and look out to see a glittering array of masks watching me with interest.


    ¡°Wee to Burberry Prep,¡± I tell the other students, breathing hard. ¡°My


    name is Marnye Reed, and I¡¯m a fucking Idol. There¡¯ll be no bullying at school-period. If I hear word of it, don¡¯t think I won¡¯t see you punished.¡± I snap my dress out and move over to the row of boys waiting beside my makeshift stage.


    Even with their masks on, I can tell them apart. And it¡¯s not just because of their very obvious costumes. No, it¡¯s because of their eyes.


    ¡°Now we waltz,¡± I say, and Miranda starts up the music again. I¡¯ve been practicing all week with her after school, just for this. Because, well, even though I¡¯m a pretty crappy dancer and probably always will be, with all the cheerleading practices, I¡¯ve gotten better. I can manage a song or two.


    ¡°Mdy,¡± Windsor starts, grabbing me by the hand and spinning me out onto the dance floor, pumpkins glowing all around, dim strands of twinkle lights overhead. He turns us around the floor like, well, a prince would. Even in the floofy pink dress, he knows what he¡¯s doing, and when I close my eyes, he leads as effortless as he breathes.


    After a single pass around the room, he hands me over to Zack. He¡¯s not nearly as good of a dancer, but his arms are strong and thick, and when he


    holds me close, I feel safe. His mask is ck, with a hooked beak, lending a very severe expression to that handsome face.


    We don¡¯t talk.


    I don¡¯t talk with any of the boys. Instead, I keep switching partners.


    Creed is next, and it¡¯s obvious he knows what he¡¯s doing, too. He dances the way he moves, like he¡¯s simply lounging with me in his arms, spinning and twirling us under the broken chandelier with the fake spiderwebs on it.


    By the time I get to Zayd, everyone¡¯s watching us.


    Even though this is a waltz, he makes it as sensual as that dirty grinding we did at Becky tter¡¯s party three years ago.


    Once I¡¯m all hot and bothered, I trade him out for Tristan. The waltz hits a crescendo as he takes me into the center of the room, holding me close and saying nothing. Our eyes meet, our fingers curl together, and our feet swish across the old worn floors, my white dress billowing around the tight ck pants and boots he¡¯s wearing. He has a crown, too, a king¡¯s crown.


    The music rises sharply, announcing its finale, and Tristan dips me hard, so low that my short hair nearly touches the floor. And then, he lowers his lips to mine and gives me a fairy-tale kiss with only a hint of darkness edging all that sweet.


    After that, Billie Eilish¡¯s you should see me in a crownes on. It¡¯s so appropriate, I just pause, letting Tristan lift me back up to my feet. We stand there and let everyone in that room get a good, long look at us.


    We don¡¯t have any problems fro


    m any of the Plebs, not after that.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

 262

    When I walk into the gym, I find Creed and Windsor fencing.


    They¡¯re both soaked in sweat, dressed in that padded white gear, butcking any helmets. My practical side wars briefly with my fascination, and I end up sitting quietly on a bench in the back, just admiring their forms as they square off.


    With the tips of their swords-rapiers? I don¡¯t know, sorry, just not a fencing expert-crossed, the boys stare at each other across the mat. Creed¡¯s blue eyes bore into Windsor¡¯s hazel ones. The prince looks as prepared and on top of things as he always does, but Creed¡¯s shed his sexy sloth persona, dropping into that fierce fighting style of his that I¡¯ve only seen on a few asions.


    ¡°You¡¯re bloody good,¡± Windsor tells him, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. His eyes flick briefly over Creed¡¯s shoulder andnd on mine before bouncing right back to his opponent¡¯s. ¡°Honestly, your form is better than mine, but when you get mad, you get impulsive.¡±


    ¡°Enough of your bullshit. I¡¯m here to kick your ass, not take lessons from you.¡±


    Windsor shrugs his shoulders. ¡°Fine by me. It¡¯s your funeral.¡±


    The two boys take up crouched stances, bouncing slightly as they prepare for the round to start. When it does, there¡¯s this flurry of motion from Creed


    as he throws himself at Windsor, his weapon moving so fast I can hardly see it. Windsor moves nimbly out of his way, and Creed stumbles, recovering just as fast and spinning on a dime.


    Their swords sh with the ng of metal, and I realize they¡¯re not really fencing at all.


    Fencing is ¡­ well, first off, the swords they¡¯re holding are far too big for a true fencing match. That, and they¡¯re definitely both a bit more aggressive and wild with their approach. Steel flies and tters together, the two boys pushing in with all their strength.


    Creed¡¯s teeth are gritted in frustration, and he pushes back with a growl, swinging his weapon around and going in for Windsor¡¯s midsection. The prince sidesteps the move with ease, and then whacks Creed right in the lower back with his sword.


    ¡°My friend, you have just suffered a severed spine,¡± he announces, but Creed¡¯s so worked up and frustrated that he spins around and goes for Windsor again. There¡¯s this wild flurry of dancing des before Windsor knocks Creed¡¯s aside and puts the tip to his throat. ¡°And now you¡¯ve lost your vocal chords. Are you done yet? I told you: your form is superior, but you¡¯re too rash. Calm yourself a little, and you¡¯d be a worthy opponent.¡±


    Creed Cabot makes a frustrated sound under his breath and then chucks his weapon to the ground in irritation before he notices me sitting there, his cheeks flushing with red.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± he says cautiously, throwing on thatzy, drawling affectation of his. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were sitting there ¡­¡±


    ¡°Would you have fought any differently if you¡¯d known?¡± I ask, standing up and finding my eyes drawn to Windsor¡¯s fingers as he pulls down the zipper on the front of his uniform and shows off a little bare chest. My gaze snaps back to Creed, waiting for an answer.


    ¡°Yeah, maybe,¡± he says, reaching up to push sweaty blond hair off of his forehead.


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, moving over to stand between them.


    ¡°Because ¡­ I¡¯d be fighting for someone other than myself?¡± Creed says, but almost like it¡¯s a question he¡¯s asking himself. Windsor smiles at us both. ¡°Come back to my room. I¡¯ll make you both a proper cup of English tea.


    It¡¯s the cure for everything you know: depression, fatigue, anger, sadness, war.¡±


    ¡°Keep calm and carry on, right?¡± I ask, and Wind grins.


    ¡°Precisely.¡± He leads the way back to the locker room, and I wait outside as the boys change back into their uniforms. We head over to Tower Three, take the elevator up-or the lift as Wind calls it-and then Creed and I snuggle a bit while Windsor makes us all a cup of tea, and even sets up these three-tiered silver trays with tiny sandwiches and colorful macarons on them. ¡°You didn¡¯t actually make all of this stuff, did you?¡± I ask, and Windsor


    gives me a weird look.


    ¡°Why not? What else do I have to do? I¡¯m a prince, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡± Oh, well, okay.


    I suppose that makes sense.


    I look down at my tea, lifting the delicate saucer to my lips for a sip. It¡¯s never too hot when Wind makes it; it¡¯s always just right.


    ¡°What are your guys¡¯ ns for fall break?¡± I ask, feeling this tenuous emotion inside of me tear like tissue paper. I¡¯m so worried about Charlie, I feel sick. If I don¡¯t actively work to not think about him, then he¡¯s the only thing on my mind most days. ¡°I want to be with my dad, but ¡­¡± I¡¯m almost afraid to finish that sentence, but I make myself lift my gaze, looking between Creed and Windsor and wondering how long they¡¯ve been working on the sword fighting thing together. ¡°I kind of ¡­¡± Fuck, this is hard. ¡°I¡¯d like somepany.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard, to watch someone you love suffer, isn¡¯t it?¡± Windsor asks, and I remember that his dad passed away a long time ago. I¡¯ve never asked why. It seemed too personal of a question. Maybe ¡­ I could ask in private sometime? ¡°Come to my family¡¯s estate in Napa. We¡¯ll be celebrating ¡­ what is that grisly American holiday that celebrates genocide and racism, Thanksgiving is it? ¡­ yes, we¡¯ll be celebrating Thanksgiving there. Mother will be attendance, if stuffy princesses are your sort of thing.¡±


    My brows go up, and I blink several times to clear my surprise. ¡°You¡¯re okay if Ie up there with Charlie?¡±


    ¡°Okay? I¡¯d love to have you.¡± Windsor pauses and sets his teacup down. His red hair is sweaty and sticking up all over the ce. Creed is leaning on one elbow, resting his head in his palm, and stuffing a finger-sandwich into his mouth with the opposite hand as he watches me and Wind. ¡°It¡¯s on a vineyard, quite lovely. But we won¡¯t have any wine on the premises, I can promise you that.¡±


    ¡°I think ¡­¡± I start, exhaling sharply and putting my own teacup aside to keep the boys from seeing how badly my hands are shaking. ¡°That alcohol isn¡¯t as big of a worry now as it was. I think a vineyard would be nice. I¡¯ll check with Dad.¡±


    ¡°We have our own polo field,¡± Windsor adds, ncing over at Creed. ¡°We could put on a show. Wouldn¡¯t that be fun?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re addicted to winning, you know,¡± Creed whispers, eating another sandwich. I swear, that boy can put food away like nobody else but Zack. They could probably have an eatingpetition, and it¡¯d be a close bet. The thing is, Zack probably weighs like fifty percent more than Creed. At least. He¡¯s huge, my own big, sexy football ying teddy bear ¡­ ¡°But sure, why not?¡± Creed sits up and narrows his eyes on his tea. ¡°Fucking boiled nt water with milk and sugar in it. Forgive me if I¡¯m not overly impressed.¡±


    Windsor¡¯s nostrils re and his own hazel eyes narrow.


    ¡°Would you like me to rescind my invitation?¡± he whispers, his voice edging on dangerous. ¡°Insult the queen¡¯s beverage again, and I¡¯ll be forced to defend the drink of my country.¡±


    Creed looks up at him, and then tilts his head to one side.


    ¡°Question: is Lizzie Walton invited?¡± he asks, and then both boys turn to look at me. I pretend to be too busy sipping my tea to answer that. I want to know their opinions on the matter ¡­ ¡°Ohe on, Marnye, don¡¯t tell me her constant hounding of Tristan doesn¡¯t piss you off.¡±Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I, well ¡­¡± I¡¯m in politepany, so I may as well ¡­ ¡°Okay, yeah, it frustrates me. I can¡¯t get a second alone with him. She¡¯s literally always there.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll make sure her invitation gets lost in the mail then,¡± Windsor says, standing up and then smiling at the pair of us. ¡°Take your time finishing the tea. I¡¯m in desperate need of a shower.¡± He starts toward his room and disappears inside, leaving the door cracked. I can hear the water when he turns it on, but I can¡¯t see anything.


    ¡°Come back to my room with me,¡± Creed whispers, and the sound makes me shiver all over. Doubly so when he runs his finger down the back of my neck. It¡¯s in that moment that Windsor happens to pause in a spot where I can see him undressing, dropping his clothes to the floor and revealing a lithe, muscr form that has my entire body going up in mes.


    He sees me looking, smirks, and then walks over to shove the door closed.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I tell Creed, finding it suddenly hard to talk as I nce over at him. ¡°Absolutely. Yes.¡±


    A slow, sultry smirk curves over his mouth as he stands up and takes my hand. I make sure to reach out, grab his teacup and finish off his drink before we go. Don¡¯t want to piss the prince off, now do we?


    Creed and I head back to his room and end upte for ss the next mo


    rning.


    It¡¯s worth it though, oh so worth it.

 263

    It¡¯s only about a two hour drive from Cruz Bay to Napa Valley where the Royal Vineyard and Princess Winery is located. They produce almost thirty thousand bottles per year and have their own shop with specialty cheeses and smoked meats.


    The drive itself is gorgeous, rolling hills of grapes on either side of us, trees lining the road, the sun shining up above. The Maserati drives like a dream, and Dad sings the Police for almost an hour before his voice gives out, and he stares out at the hills in quiet contemtion.


    When we arrive at the gate, I punch in the code Windsor gave me, and take the winding dirt road up to the gorgeous chateau on the top of the hill. Wind jokingly told me via text oh, I don¡¯t live in the main house-I live in the garden followed by severalughing emojis. In my mind, I somehow imagined like, this old brick shack with a firece. Small, but cozy. Just a few guest bedrooms that we¡¯d all have to cram into ¡­ But then we pass behind the main house and find another that¡¯s only slightly smaller, but just as nice waiting in the sunshine, olive trees clustered near the front door.


    Windsor¡¯s waiting on the porch with a box of those sparkling ciders that


    my dad likes so much.


    First, of course, we¡¯re frisked by security, and our luggage is hauled away for examination.


    ¡°Mr. Reed,¡± Wind greets, giving Charlie a gentle hug. ¡°I¡¯m d you and your beautiful daughter could make it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a sweet boy, Windsor,¡± Dad says, and I raise my eyebrows. If he only knew ¡­ ¡°Is your mother around? I¡¯d love to not only thank her, but I did promise Jennifer I¡¯d get her to sign this picture.¡± Dad reaches into his pocket, and I hate to see how much his hand shakes as he pulls out a photo of Princess Alexandra, one of the reigning queen¡¯s granddaughters.


    ¡°She¡¯s in the house. I¡¯ll take you to meet her if you¡¯d like.¡±Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Where¡¯s everyone else?¡± I ask as we make our way to the back door of the chateau. It¡¯s slightly ajar, and there¡¯s a white cat sitting there, licking its leg and ring at me. Windsor ignores it, stepping right over it and leaving it to sunbathe on the small brick patio.


    ¡°I told them all to show up a few dayste, so we¡¯d have some time together.¡± He winks at me over his shoulder, and then turns back around, leading us through a small mudroom type area with boots and coats and rustic looking beams that I can tell are a good hundred years old. You can¡¯t fake that patina.


    Wind takes us into a much more modern looking kitchen (it¡¯s impossible


    to ry just how much I¡¯d have freaked out if the ce had had original cabs) with an entire wall of windows on the opposite side of the room. Our view is taken up by a deck, a carefully tended garden, and rolling hills covered in grapevines.


    It¡¯s breathtaking.


    ¡°Haha-ue,¡± Windsor calls out, drawing the attention of the woman lounging out of the deck. He calls her haha-ue (it¡¯s pronounced hah-hah- way), a very formal version of mother in Japanese. It¡¯s something a noble or


    ¡­ well, royal might call their mom. He might not be taking advanced Japanese with me, but he definitely pays attention to my sses.


    I feel my mouth curve into a smile as Windsor¡¯s mother stands up, dressed in a loose-fitting gray sundress patterned with a sunflower print. She lifts the shades off her face, her red-orange hair curled carefully around her shoulders. Just off to the side of the deck, there¡¯s a man in a red shirt and jeans, standing casually but unobtrusively.


    Security, no doubt about it.


    I think about that bodyguard Kathleen Cabot tried to hire for me during second year. What was his name? Kyle something? I should¡¯ve epted his


    help, and then maybe I wouldn¡¯t have been nearly drowned.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that; it sounds like you¡¯reughing at me.¡± Windsor¡¯s mother pauses to smile at us, and I can see the skin around his eyes tightening slightly.


    ¡°Forgive her. She speaks tennguages, but Japanese is not one of them.¡± Wind sighs and holds out a hand to indicate his mother. ¡°Princess Alexandra Mary Elizabeth Windsor, formerly Alexandra Duchess of Westminster. And yes, she was most certainly taking the piss when she named me.¡±


    ¡°Forgive my son,¡± Alexandra corrects as she holds out her hand to shake first Charlie¡¯s, and then mine. ¡°He forgets his station.¡±


    ¡°You never let me forget,¡± Windsor adds as Dad wrinkles up his brow. ¡°Taking the piss?¡± he asks, and Windsor and I bothugh. I¡¯ve heard that


    phrase enough times now to know what it means. ¡°Like ¡­ telling a joke,¡± I exin, and Dad nods.


    ¡°Like I said, forgive my son and please, call me Alex.¡±


    ¡°Charlie,¡± Dad replies, and the four of us end up in the kitchen with a whole spread of beautiful hor d¡¯oeuvres, including crackers, soft cheeses, olives, and plenty of fruit. There¡¯s wine, too, but Dad doesn¡¯t even look at it. The princess seems nice enough, if a little disconnected. She checks her phone constantly, and I can tell she¡¯s only mildly interested in our conversation. When Dad leaves to go lie down, the housekeeper shows him


    to his room, and Princess Alex disappears outside to talk on the phone.


    Windsor stares at me from across the soapstone countertop and shrugs his shoulders, his hazel eyes carefully focused on mine.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asks, pouring himself a ss of wine and swirling the liquid around inside, so he can smell it.


    ¡°She seems ¡­¡± I search for the right word, and when Wind passes over another ss, I decline. I think I¡¯m going to stay a no-alcohol sort of girl. Pot is okay, though it doesn¡¯t seem to be curing Charlie ¡­ The vegan food isn¡¯t curing Charlie. The chemo isn¡¯t curing Charlie. My hands start to shake, and I tuck them in myp. ¡°Nice, but distant.¡±


    Wind nods, and takes a sip of his wine, standing up fully and gazing past me, out the wall of windows towa


    rd the orange and yellow sunset.

 264

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s how I¡¯d describe her, too. Only I¡¯d use the words vapid and self-absorbed, too.¡± He shrugs his shoulders and sighs. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m eighteen now, so I suppose I needn¡¯t worry about her. I¡¯m far wealthier thanProperty ? N?velDrama.Org.


    she is, and it¡¯s more than likely she¡¯ll blow through most of her money before she hits fifty.¡± He pauses and his fingers tighten around the stem of his winess before he looks down at me. ¡°You realize that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°That your mom¡¯s going to bankrupt herself?¡± I ask, and he smiles. The way his slightly curled red hair falls over his forehead is enhanced by the diffused light, and his face almost seems to glow. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, and I can see just the slightest hint of chest.


    ¡°No, I mean that we¡¯re all eighteen now. Not just me and you, but your other lovers as well.¡±


    ¡°Lovers,¡± I say, feeling my face heat up. I guess Zayd, Creed, and Zack are lovers, aren¡¯t they? Since we¡¯ve had sex ¡­ Although I still haven¡¯t quite braved the blow job yet. My mouth tightens, and I stuff an olive in to keep from blurting out that the molding around the arch that leads into the mudroom still has original hand-hammered nails in it which, really, is unusual from a historical standpoint because they used to use make these little pegs on the end and sort of notch the wood together like Lincoln Logs or something ¡­


    ¡°They¡¯re all free to make their own choices now,¡± Windsor continues,


    drinking the rest of his wine, and then setting the ss down to refill it. ¡°They might not like the options they¡¯re given, but they have them.¡±


    ¡°Who, specifically, are you talking about? Yourself?¡± I ask, and Wind shakes his head, pushing red hair off of his face with his palm, so that it sticks straight up.


    ¡°Certainly not. I¡¯ve already told you, I want to marry you and ride off into the sunset.¡±


    I snort, but the way Windsor York holds his face ¡­ makes me wonder if he isn¡¯t at least a little bit serious.


    ¡°Who are you referring to then?¡± I pull a bowl of grapes toward me, admiring their shiny purple skins before I pluck one out and put it between my lips. Windsor watches, enraptured, and I feel my fingers lingering a bit too long on the curve of my lower lip. I look away, ncing over my shoulder at the beautiful scenery. It¡¯s certainly fall here, with all of its orange and yellow, but the grass is still green and it¡¯s pleasantly warm outside.


    ¡°I mean all of them. Zayd, Creed, Tristan, Zack.¡± He stops talking, and I turn back to look at him. ¡°I must tell you something, but you need to keep it quiet.¡±


    ¡°Infinity Club?¡± I ask, and Windsor nods, searching my face. He¡¯s done so much maneuvering behind the scenes to keep me safe, to keep me happy, to keep Charlie safe and happy. I owe him so much, this bully of bullies who strode in and chopped Harper du Pont¡¯s ponytail off as a token of friendship. I¡¯m going to do so, so much more. And not just to her, but all of them.


    They wanted me out of Burberry Prep Academy, no matter how they had to go about doing it. Well, karma is threefold, motherfuckers. I bite down on another grape, and purple sweetness explodes in my mouth.


    And that doesn¡¯t sound dirty at all.


    ¡°Tristan¡¯s father, William, is now married to Lizzie¡¯s mother¡¯s best friend.¡± He takes another sip of his wine as I gape at him. ¡°She¡¯s a wealthy heiress to a massive hotel chain. The entire reason the Waltons didn¡¯t want their daughter with a Vanderbilt-that is, their endless void of debt-is not so important now. It¡¯s going to get paid off.¡±


    ¡°Lizzie told me she won a bet against her parents, so that they¡¯d consider Tristan ¡­¡±


    ¡°And she did, and they did. The marriage only just happenedst week; I¡¯m probably one of the first to know about it.¡± He finishes his wine and sets his ss down. ¡°So ¡­ Tristan could choose Lizzie, if he wanted. And maybe then, his father would take him back?¡±


    I have no idea what to say, so I just sit there and let my mind mull that over.


    ¡°Zack¡¯s family want him with someone presentable, someone with good blood. Probably one of the very girls you¡¯ve already ousted from the school


    -or will oust, more than likely.¡±


    ¡°Why are you telling me all this?¡± I ask, looking up at him again, a veritable god draped in sunlight and quiet cruelty. He¡¯s telling me this because he wants me to know how hard their choice would be, if they were really and truly to pick me.


    ¡°Creed, well, you could probably have Creed if you wanted. Easily. Kathleen is essentially a Pleb herself, a self-made woman. She likes you, a lot. They seem like a nice family, too.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Windsor?¡± I snap, standing up and feeling my breathe in sharp pants. I¡¯m not sure why I¡¯m so angry. Maybe because the little bubble of Burberry is popping, and it feels like the world is rushing in to drown me?


    ¡°And Zayd, well, his grandmother won¡¯t like you, but she doesn¡¯t like her son much anyway either. Zayd could be with you, if he really wanted, but do you trust someone like that? A rock star?¡± Wind moves around the counter when I try to leave and blocks the doorway.


    ¡°You¡¯re being an asshole right now,¡± I whisper, but he steps forward, and I have no choice but to step back or let him bump into me. I choose to let him bump into me, and he tickles his fingers along the back of my neck, making me shiver.


    ¡°Then there¡¯s me. I have my own fortune passed down to me from my father. It¡¯s more than enough to live on, and have fun with, too. We can do all sorts of things together, Marnye, if you wanted.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re only eighteen,¡± I whisper, looking away. My heart betrays me, pounding too hard, beating too fast. I feel lightheaded, almost dizzy. ¡°Who says I have to choose a life partner now?¡±


    ¡°Nobody. But we both know that when school ends, everyone will scatter, and that¡¯ll be it. You might not have to choose a life partner, but you have to pick a thread to follow.¡±


    ¡°Is this an ultimatum?¡± I turn back to look at him and find his hazel eyes


    locked on my lips. Slowly, almost like a maning out of a drugged dream, he lifts his gaze to mine.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t give ultimatums to friends. Mdy, I don¡¯t care what you do with the other boys. If you want me to stick around, I¡¯m here. I¡¯ll give you whatever you want. And if what you want is to tangle those threads around your fingers, and drag them to Bornstead, fine. I¡¯m trying to tell you that I¡¯m not the problem.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying you don¡¯t care if I keep dating them, even in college?¡± My voicees out a cracked whisper, half strangely hopeful but also broken and mncholic. Because college seems so far away, and I know that even if somehow, Windsor is offering me an impossible c


    hance, I won¡¯t get this from everybody.

 265

    Somehow, someway, I¡¯ll have to choose.


    Somehow, someway, I don¡¯t think this is all going to end up wrapped in a perfect bow and hand delivered to my doorstep.


    Sometimes happy endings taste bittersweet.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying. I¡¯ve had my share of girls. The only one I really liked before you, she did to me what I¡¯d done to dozens of others. I know I


    have sins to repent for, and giving you what you want isn¡¯t one of them. Let¡¯s go to Bornstead together, and I¡¯ll hold your hand, even if someone else is holding onto the other side.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t really mean that,¡± I choke, trying to move around him, but he gently pushes me against the wall with his hands on my shoulders, dropping his mouth to mine.


    Windsor York tastes like sweet dessert wine, his tongue edging my lips, tasting me like a fine chardonnay before he even really takes a sip. His tongue moves slowly against mine, like he¡¯s trying to draw out all the vor. Without meaning to, my hands pull the buttons on his shirt apart, palms pressing t against the nes of his chest.


    ¡°Think about my offer,¡± he whispers, one hand sliding up my waist to cup my breast through my shirt. He kneads the flesh, encouraging my chest to lift into his hand, offering myself up to him. ¡°But also, think about everyone¡¯s motives. Nobody is fully selfless at any given time. Think about my offer, too, and why I made it.¡±


    Wind releases me and pushes off the wall, stalking off outside. For a moment there, I have to remind myself how to breathe. When I follow after him, I see him moving between the garden house and arge barn, hopping a low fence, and moving over to a ck horse.


    He strokes its neck for a moment, and then grabs a handful of mane, mounting it and then quite literally riding off into the sunset.


    He certainly is the epitome of charming prince, isn¡¯t he? Only ¡­ his horse is ck, not white.


    Maybe that¡¯s a telltale sign right there?


    The next morning, Windsor and I have breakfast on the deck with Alex and Charlie before the princess excuses herself for a trip into town. Dad and I y a few rounds of chess before he gets tired again, and decides to settle down with a book.


    I notice he opens to the back and reads the ending first.


    Chills creep over me from head to toe as I watch him, smiling privately to himself before he flips back to the first page again.


    ¡°He¡¯s reading thest page first, so he¡¯ll know how it ends in case he ¡­¡± I trail off, pausing behind Windsor as he leads me to the stables to pick a horse. We¡¯re going riding today which makes me a little nervous. I think I rode a pony at someone¡¯s birthday party once when I was seven, but that¡¯s as far as my experience goes.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    He looks back at me, and then turns fully around, dust settling around his riding boots.


    ¡°Sometimes, we take pleasure in whatever we can. Nobody knows how much time they have left, Marnye. Either of us could fall off one of these horses and die today. Who says Charlie has less time left than anyone else? Let the man read his ending, and don¡¯t let yourself fall victim to pity. He doesn¡¯t want that from you.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± I snap back at him, raking my fingers through my rose-gold hair. It¡¯s a bit longer now, and it¡¯s starting to curl like Windsor¡¯s does, right on the top.


    ¡°Because he loves you. Pity does nothing for the one being pitied. It¡¯s an empathetic agony to the one doing the pitying. Now,e and see what I¡¯ve got for you.¡± Wind turns around as my cheeks flush, and I exhale, following after him and finding a beautiful ¡­ rose-gold horse in the barn.


    ¡°Is this a horse to match the Maserati, Windsor? Because if it is, then I¡¯m declining.¡±


    Heughs at me, and strokes the nose of the beautiful animal as it lifts its head over the edge of the stall door to look at us with big, trusting brown eyes.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not. This is my mother¡¯s mare. Her coloring is called amber champagne, but I thought you might like her.¡± He pats the horse, and then leads her out of the stall and outside where his own shiny ck horse from yesterday is waiting.


    There¡¯s a set of steps for me to use to get on the horse¡¯s back, the smell of the leather saddle in the hot sun reminding me of Windsor¡¯s own leather polish and daffodil scent. He walks me around the paddock for a while and we start our lessons. Once I¡¯ve figured out how to actually ride the damn


    thing without falling off, we go for a short trot around the property, sun streaming across our backs.


    We get back to the house in time for lunch, and I find that my thighs are unbelievably sore.


    ¡°Happens to all first-time riders,¡± Wind tells me cheerily (and maybe with a touch of perv, too), letting my dad win at checkers. I take notice of that because I know for a fact that he hates to lose. Despises it. It brings out that awful darkness inside of him.


    ¡°Thanks for telling me that now,¡± I grumble, but it¡¯s hard to stay mad when I¡¯ve got an entire winery to myself, including a pool and hot tub in the back. It¡¯s a ¡®natural¡¯ pool meaning there¡¯s foliage around the edges, rock formations, and even waterfalls. It almost looks like part of thendscape.


    Dad, Wind, and I spend most of the afternoon in the water and then use up the rest of the evening watching movies in the garden house.


    It¡¯s not until the next morning that everyone else shows up.


    Zack is the first to get there, parking his orange sportscar in the small dirt courtyard between the two houses and lifting his shades up to examine the guesthouse.


    ¡°You led me to believe this was a shack,¡± he says when Windsor pauses next to the car and folds his arms over his chest. Zack gets a frisking like everybody else from one of the security guards before his car is valeted away to a spot up the hill, out of sight and out of mind.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the damnedest thing?¡± Windsor asks, shrugging his shoulders. He pauses at the sound of Alexandra¡¯s voice and then sighs. ¡°Excuse me a moment.¡± As he passes me by, Wind teases his fingers along my bare arm, and I shiver.


    Zack notices, his dark eyes taking me in appreciatively. I¡¯ve got on a short yellow sundress with a sweetheart neckline. It¡¯s made of a soft jersey fabric, and it¡¯s beyondfy. My only issue with it is that it¡¯s a bit short when the wind blows.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he says, and the rough grumble of his voice makes it seem ten degrees hotter out than it is. ¡°I missed you.¡±


    ¡°Did you?¡± I quip, and his full, lush mouth curves into a smile. I¡¯ve forgiven him for the Jalen incident. We all make mistakes, surely. But ¡­ I can¡¯t stop thinking about what he said, about his father and grandfather. They want him with someone who h


    as better breeding, more money. Surely

 266

    I¡¯m none of those things. And Zack and I, we have a tumultuous history. Yet when I look up at him and into his brown eyes, I feel like a woman who¡¯s wrangled herself a bear. He has teeth, but they¡¯re not for biting me.


    ¡°I told you, Marnye, I love you.¡± He says it so inly that I can¡¯t help but blush. It¡¯s just sitting there between us, this big statement of emotion. He¡¯s the only one that¡¯s said it to me outright like that. The only one. Zayd came close, but then he followed it up with yeah, pretty much and sort of blew the moment.


    We don¡¯t get a chance to carry the conversation any further because another car is on its way up the driveway, a blue Jaguar convertible with the top rolled down and Zayd¡¯s tattooed arm waving at us from inside. He parks, and gets what I¡¯d really consider a triple frisking before security is satisfied.


    ¡°They just profiled me,¡± he grumbles, but then, he¡¯s a straight, white male so lucky him if this is the first time that¡¯s ever happened. Zayd shes a grin and looks around the ce, whistling under his breath. ¡°This looks like some serious postcard shit.¡± He pauses and nces down at me, his hair still colored with that gorgeous sea green. I may or may not have asked him to leave it that color for the time being ¡­ ¡°Hey, did you and Wind fuck yet?¡± he asks, and the tant way he stares into my eyes with his emerald green ones makes me choke.


    ¡°Seriously, Kaiser?¡± Zack scowls, but Zayd ignores him, putting his hands on his hips.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, it¡¯ll be kind of hard to pick between us unless you¡¯ve fucked us all. Chemistry is a huge part of like, love and all that romantic shit.¡± He lights up a cigarette as Zack scowls, and I try to remember how to form actual words with my mouth.


    ¡°You want me to fuck Windsor and Tristan?¡± I ask, and both boys exchange a look before ncing over at me.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t fucked Tristan yet?¡± Zayd rifies, and I give him a look. ¡°I¡¯ve been honest with you guys every step of the way, whether it¡¯s just


    kissing or ¡­ something more. Don¡¯t you think I¡¯d have told if you that¡¯d happened yet?¡±


    ¡°Holy hell in a handbasket,¡± Zayd murmurs, taking a drag on the cigarette. It smells like cloves, and I frown. Sure, it smells good,pared to a normal cigarette, but those things are twice as bad. I want him to quit. Maybe, if I picked him, that¡¯d be the first thing I asked ¡­ But then I remember that I


    picked Zayd once before, and I didn¡¯t like the way it felt. Not that picking him felt wrong, but that not picking Creed and Tristan made me squirm. ¡°The only three girls Tristan ever spent time with that he didn¡¯t fuck are ¡­¡± Zayd holds up a tattooed hand and ticks off fingers. ¡°Miranda, Harper, and Lizzie. The first because, you know, there¡¯s the whole gay thing. The second, because he¡¯s hated her fucking guts since, like, kindergarten, and the third


    -¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± I ask, as Zayd turns his green eyes over to me. ¡°Wait, what, what?¡± he asks, raising his dark brows.


    ¡°Lizzie and Tristan never ¡­¡± Zayd snorts and shakes his head. ¡°Nope. Never. I think ¡­ he liked her too much, maybe?¡±


    A cold wave of jealousy rolls over me, and I have to count my breaths to get in control of my emotions again. I¡¯m having an irrational reaction to that news. Shouldn¡¯t I be happy that they¡¯ve never slept together? But yet ¡­ Zayd is right.


    My heart pounds as my mind reys Tristan¡¯s words over and over again. ¡°Because I use sex like a weapon. I won¡¯t wield it against you.¡± I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m relieved that he didn¡¯t sleep with Lizzie ¡­ or terrified.


    ¡°Come on, Charity, don¡¯t stress,¡± Zayd says, ashing his cigarette and flicking it expertly into an empty metal bucket near the door. He scoops me up in his arms, the smell of sage and tobo wafting around me. ¡°If Tristan¡¯s too stupid to take you seriously, then dump him.¡± He gestures to the side with his chin. ¡°I¡¯ve got something for you in my pocket.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    I reach down and identally cup his ass while I¡¯m looking for the pocket opening, and Zayd whistles.


    ¡°It was an ident,¡± I sputter, but he gives me this panty-melting look with half-lidded eyes and a sideways smirk.


    ¡°Sure it was. But hey, consent is sexy, and I consent all the fucking way for you to grab my ass.¡± I roll my eyes at him, and pull out the piece of paper, unfolding it and quickly scanning over the words. It¡¯s his test results, just like Zack¡¯s. ¡°Zayd and Tristan heard me talking about having tests done, and they fucking copied me.¡± I remember hearing him say that, and I smile.


    Happily, Zayd Kaiser is very much clean and healthy.


    ¡°Thank you, Zayd,¡± I say honestly, and thenugh as he carries me into the house and kisses me smack on the lips. Of course, Dad just happens to be


    standing there when he does it, right next to Windsor.


    ¡°Marnye Elizabeth,¡± he breathes, his face a mask of horror. Because of Jennifer, I know how he feels about cheating, so I push away from Zayd and make him set me on my feet, so I can exin.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what it looks like,¡± I breathe as Zackes to a stop behind me. I¡¯ve got both palms up in defense. ¡°Dad, I wouldn¡¯t ¡­ you know how I feel about cheaters.¡±


    ¡°You and Windsor broke up?¡± he asks, ncing over at the prince. Wind raises one brow and looks back at Charlie before turning to me with a slight smile. He can¡¯t wait to hear me fumble my way through this one.


    Okay, Marnye, you¡¯ve got this. Dad is sick, but he¡¯s not stupid. Y


    ou can trust him with this.

 267

    ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± Andrew says, appearing next to me with his chestnut hair buzzed short, a white polo shirt on over a pair of light colored jeans. He smiles at me, and I feel suddenly so much better to have a friend around who I¡¯m not romantically involved with. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. ¡°If I can tell my parents that I¡¯m gay, you can so do this. It¡¯s easy; you got this.¡±


    Andrew moves into the kitchen and reaches for the wine before he realizes that he¡¯s not exactly twenty-one.


    ¡°Oh, son, I know you kids all drink,¡± Dad says with a slight smile. ¡°A ss of chardonnay isn¡¯t going to kill you. Just don¡¯t be an alcoholic like me.¡±


    ¡°Dad!¡± I choke out as Zack steps forward to stand by my side.


    ¡°Your daughter doesn¡¯t drink, not at all,¡± Zack says, and Charlie¡¯s smile gets just a bit sadder.


    ¡°She¡¯s always been one to make prudent choices. Okay, Marnye, tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ dating five guys,¡± I say, and what¡¯s left of Dad¡¯s eyebrows goes up. Dad ¡­ He nces over at Andrew, and he raises his own hands in defense.


    ¡°Oh, no, not me. Definitely not me. I¡¯m more likely to date five guys than your daughter-not that she isn¡¯t fabulous, just ¡­¡± He shrugs and takes a drink of his wine. I need to know the wholeing out story, that is, if he wants to tell me. I¡¯m going to at least ask. Knowing Miranda she¡¯ll probably hound him relentlessly.


    ¡°So,¡± Charlie starts, looking at Windsor then Zack then Zayd ¡­ ¡°These guys and ¡­ the Cabot boy, and ¡­¡±


    ¡°And me,¡± Tristan says, stepping into the room in ck shorts, a loose ck shirt, and sandals. He doesn¡¯t bother to take off his sunsses, but he does at least attempt some semnce of a smile.


    ¡°You boys ¡­¡± Dad starts, looking like he¡¯s stuck halfway between fainting and thanking me for being honest. ¡°I didn¡¯t raise my daughter to date bullies.¡±


    Tristan pushes his shades up into his raven dark hair, and I see a ck eye there that he most definitely did not have when we left the academy campus on Friday.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t, Mr. Reed, but if you can forgive me for speaking frankly, I¡¯d like to reassure you that your daughter not only handled herself in a matter befitting ady, but she also kicked our asses before she forgave us.¡± He tucks his sunsses into his pocket.


    ¡°Marnye has a big heart; she forgives too easily,¡± Charlie says, studying the group of them. ¡°I swear, if you¡¯re ying some sort of long game ¡­¡±


    ¡°Long game?¡± Zack ask, and Dad nces his way.


    A shock of adrenaline courses through me, and I lick my lips. If I said I hadn¡¯t at least considered that possibility, I¡¯d be lying. But ¡­ no. Not with Windsor around. Zack either, for that matter.


    ¡°If those three pull something during graduation the way they did at the end of first year, I swear to God, I¡¯ll kill them all and put them in the ground. What do I have to lose? I¡¯m dying anyway.¡±


    ¡°Dad!¡± I choke out, this dark thundercloud settling over me. I know he¡¯s trying to use dark humor to cope, but shit, it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I can¡¯t even let myself consider it, not right now, not when he¡¯s still here to smile at me.


    ¡°Seriously though, what¡¯s the worst that could happen: life in prison?¡± Charlie chuckles, but I can¡¯tugh at stuff like that, not right now. ¡°I mean it though, you boys better not be screwing around with my Marnye-bear.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± Zayd says, shaking out his shoulders and exhaling. ¡°I understand your concern, but I want you to know that ¡­ I¡¯m in love with your daughter.¡± He grits his teeth, like this is one of the hardest things he¡¯s ever done. ¡°I have been since Halloween of first year, I just ¡­ we¡¯re all mixed up in a bunch of bullshit.¡±


    Holy fuck, did Zayd Kaiser just announce his love for me? And in front of my dad, too? I¡¯m not sure if I should swoon or maybe just curl up and die of embarrassment.


    ¡°But we¡¯re trying to get out of it,¡± Zack adds, looking at Charlie. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything like what happened during first year happen again. I¡¯m in love with your daughter, too, and ¡­ I can never say enough about how sorry I am over what urred in middle school. I¡¯m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.¡±


    Aaaand, another surge of emotion I don¡¯t know what to do with. It¡¯s like there¡¯s a rainbow inside of me, an emotion for every color, all blending together. I¡¯m just not sure what¡¯s waiting for me at the end of it.


    ¡°I¡¯d also like to take this moment to profess my love,¡± Windsor says, putting his palm over his heart and lifting his chin. ¡°It¡¯s a royal promation.¡±


    I snort, but it¡¯s all nervousughter, pping my hand over my mouth.


    The sound of scramblinges from outside, and I nce over my shoulder to see Creed shoving Miranda out of the way. Hees in panting, two security guards grabbing onto his shoulders.


    ¡°Let him go; he¡¯s harmless,¡± Windsor instructs, as the beautiful blond- haired, blue-eyed Cabot boy huffs and puffs, looking between me and Dad a few times before he steps forward and shoves Zayd aside. Zayd sneers at him, but doesn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°I love your daughter, too,¡± he says, and I swear, if there was a single spot on my body that wasn¡¯t red, it would be now.


    ¡°Guys,¡± I start, as Tristan turns away suddenly, closing his eyes. He¡¯s the only one who¡¯s not going to say it, isn¡¯t he? ¡°You don¡¯t have to say that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± Creed says, pushing blond hair off his forehead. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ I¡¯ve felt this way for a while.¡± Mirandaes up to stand on my other side, giving me a sympathetic sort of look. At least Lizzie¡¯s not here to witness the whole thing, right?Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Are you happy, Marnye?¡± Dad asks, and I nod once, briskly but determinedly.


    I mean, I am, but I¡¯m not. I need you here to walk me down the aisle one day, Charlie. Please, please, please stick around for that.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Okay then. Okay. My daughter has ¡­ five boyfriends.¡± He curses under his breath and shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯ll be damned.¡±


    He wanders out to the porch, pops the top of one of his fancy apple ciders, and looks out at the vineyard.


    ¡°Well, that wasn¡¯t embarrassing at all,¡± I whisper as Miranda gives me a huge hug.


    ¡°Come on, you can help me unpack my things and Andrew can tell you


    allll about hising out story ¡­¡±


    Andrew grabs the wine, a pair of sses, and a soda that he tosses over to me.


    The boys watch us walk out, but they know better than to follow. I need a minute.


    How the hell am I supposed to choose now?


    Fuck you, love. Like, seriously, fuck you.

 268

    ¡°She bought you a rainbow jock strap?!¡± Zayd howls, rolling on his side withughter as Andrew narrows his eyes in the lead singer¡¯s direction. ¡°That¡¯s so cute, but so fucking misguided. I¡¯m dying, I¡¯m dying. No, I¡¯m dead. I am hashtag-freaking-dead.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s at least trying,¡± Andrew says, his feet dangling in the pool. ¡°My dad asked me not to hit on any of his business partners. Like, really? I almost snarkily asked him if he hits on every woman he sees, just because he¡¯s straight, but ¡­ he kind of does. He¡¯s such a piece of work.¡± Andrew sips his drink, and I realize he¡¯se a long, long way from the boy who denied his sexuality to everyone, including himself. The boy who took a forced engagement he didn¡¯t want ¡­ and now is the proud owner of a rainbow jock strap.


    ¡°You know what my mom said when I told her I was a lesbian?¡± Miranda asks, and Creed rolls his eyes like he¡¯s heard this story a thousand times. ¡°She said thank god for that. Boys are so gross.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a sexist thing to say?¡± Creed retorts, and Miranda spins on him, standing wet and dripping behind her as she tries to sunbathe.


    ¡°First off, get the fuck out of my sun. Second, no. Don¡¯t you understand that when women say all men are trash, it¡¯s not hate speech, it¡¯s just an anti- patriarchal movement that has more to do with the bullshit system rather than each individual dude on a personal level?¡±


    ¡°Uh, what?¡± Creed asks, but then Miranda just grabs him by the ankle and slides into the pool, dragging her twin with her. They ssh me, and Iugh as water cools my overheated skin.


    ¡°I¡¯m really d you came out,¡± I tell Andrew, curling my fingers around the edge of the pool as I nce his way. He smiles back at me, and shrugs, like it¡¯s no big deal.


    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for you, I might not have ever done it.¡± He turns away and looks out toward the hills behind the house. These are covered in vineyards, too, but the grass is a dry brown-yellow color rather than the bright green that borders the front of the property.


    ¡°I can¡¯t take any credit for that,¡± I tell him, but he just shakes his head. ¡°You stand up for what you want, regardless of how the odds are stacked


    against you. That¡¯s something.¡±


    I look away, but I don¡¯t feelfortable with the praise. I find my attention on Zack, sitting nearby in swim shorts and nothing else. He¡¯s got a copy of that book, Groupie, and I¡¯m pretty sure he stole it off my dorm room shelf. I¡¯m okay with that, too. I¡¯m d somebody else is reading it, too. The main character¡¯s dad ¡­ he gets cancer and dies.


    I hate cancer.


    I fucking hate it.


    I stand up suddenly, and everyone goes quiet around me. When I walk off by myself, nobody bothers me.


    Our Thanksgiving meal is ¡­ cooked by Zack and Windsor. It¡¯s a little weird to see them working together, especially at something other than bullying rich girls. Two filthy rich boys doing domestic chores. It¡¯s kind ¡­ of cute.


    Zayd¡¯s also put on an apron, but mostly he just sits on the edge of the countertop and takes bites of things that are either half-cooked or too hot.


    A beautiful rough-hewn wood table sits outside, decorated with gourds and pumpkins and clusters of freshly harvested grapes. We all sit together


    and eat, and the boys manage to keep their usual barbs and jibes at one another to a minimum. Charlie isughing, the baseball cap he¡¯s wearing casting strange shadows over his face.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I wear the charm bracelet he gave me during second year, and hold his hand through most of the meal.


    Afterward, Windsor challenges the other boys to a polo match.


    ¡°I will watch, but that¡¯s the best I can do,¡± I say, wanting to stay by Charlie¡¯s side. Wind nods, and crosses one arm over his chest, tapping at his chin with a single finger.


    ¡°We need two teams of four.¡± He points at Tristan, the edge of his mouth curving up in a smirk. ¡°What do you say, y opposite me as a team captain?¡±


    ¡°Fine by me,¡± Tristan says, and the two of them exchange a long dark look. ¡°You want to make a wager out of it?¡±


    ¡°No, no, just a little friendlypetition.¡± Windsor smirks as Tristan narrows his gray eyes.


    ¡°Right. Well, then, take your pick, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Zack,¡± Wind says, because really, he¡¯s the obvious pick for anything even remotely sport rted. ¡°You do know how to y, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Tell me the rules, and I¡¯ll figure it out,¡± Zack says, giving Tristan a challenging sort of stare.


    ¡°Zayd,¡± Tristan retorts, and the rocker boy makes a little fist pump.


    ¡°Fuck yeah, let¡¯s kill this shit.¡± The two of them exchange high-fives as Windsor turns to Andrew.


    ¡°You¡¯re experienced with polo, aren¡¯t you?¡± Andrew nods and Windsor waves him over to his side.


    ¡°Well, screw you, too,¡± Creed says, taking up Tristan and Zayd¡¯s side. He doesn¡¯t even need a verbal invitation. The Idol boys might not like each other, but they stand together. They were even united in their cruelty. There¡¯s a perverse sort of loyalty there, don¡¯t you think?


    ¡°Miranda, my dear, if you would,¡± Wind says, and she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. Tristan¡¯s team is rounded out with one of the security guards, and everyone disperses to get ready.


    Me, I end up being dragged to my room by Miranda and shown all sorts of articles on How to Dress for Polo. Like, really?


    ¡°You remember that scene in Pretty Woman, right? When Julia Roberts goes to the polo match?¡± I blink at her a few times, but I can¡¯t remember if I¡¯ve ever actually seen that movie. She waves her hand dismissively, parks my phone in my hand and points at the onscreen article. ¡°Wear shoes you can walk on grass in, and something nice, but not too nice. You know what I mean?¡±


    ¡°Not real-¡± I start, but Miranda¡¯s already sweeping out of the room to change out of her pretty fall-themed gold dress. I watch her go, sigh, and then sit down on the bed to go over the article.


    An hourter, when we meet at the field, I think that maybe for once, I¡¯ve dressed myself properly for the asion. The boys¡¯ eyes catch on me as I walk over to them in a short, whitece dress with a cream sheath underneath. It only hits me at about mid-thigh, but I¡¯ve got shorts on, too, just in case of a breeze. The top is long-sleeved to make up for the risque length, and I feel like it has a seventies vibe-but in a good way. Paired with a big straw hat, and low-heeled ts, I think I look pretty cute.


    ¡°Fuckable, as usual,¡± Zayd purrs, and my cheeks flush as I give him a


    look and then flip him off. He justughs at me and scoops me off my feet, spinning me around in a circle and then growling in my ear, so low that I know only I can hear it. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a repeat performance of the c


    oncert. Don¡¯t leave me hanging, Charity.¡±

 269

    I smack him in the chest, and he sets me on my feet, almost triumphantly. ¡°Are you guys really gonna y a game without a bet?¡± I ask Zack, as


    Windsores trotting over on the back of his beautiful ck horse. Apparently its name is Bergamot. You know, like bergamot oil in earl grey tea. Not surprising, right?


    ¡°Pretty sure this whole game is about showing off whose cock is the biggest,¡± Zack says, eyes narrowed as he nces over at the prince.


    ¡°Well, she hasn¡¯t seen mine, but how about the rest of them?¡± Wind asks, swinging his, erm, polo stick up over his shoulder. I have no idea what the damn thing is called. It looks like a long, skinny croquet mallet. I¡¯m having a hard time worrying about polo terminology however, because I can¡¯t stop staring at the boys in their outfits.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    They¡¯ve all got on tight pants, riding boots, and button-up jackets with polo shirts underneath. At least this time, they¡¯re wearing helmets I think, trying to decide who looks hottest in their uniform. It¡¯s impossible to tell.


    ¡°Um, this girl doesn¡¯t kiss and tell,¡± I say, and then pause, frowning. ¡°Well, okay, so I tell you guys once that I¡¯m sexually active with the new boy, but ¡­¡± Windsorughs and taps my hat gently on the brim with his polo stick. Sounded dirty, huh? I thought so, too.


    ¡°I love the hat, Mdy. You¡¯re a vision.¡± He grins, and I find my eyes drawn up to him, perched atop the rippling ebony muscles of his horse. His pants are white, and beyond tight, with a leather strip on the side of each leg and under the crotch. The boots he¡¯s wearing remind me of the ones he wears most every day at Burberry, ck and shiny, knee-high. The only difference between the two teams seems to be that Windsor¡¯s group has on ck jackets with gold buttons, while the others are sporting red.


    I have to say, with Creed¡¯s blue eyes and pale hair, the bold color really suits him. And Zayd? All those tattoos showing from underneath such a proper looking outfit, the dichotomy has me drooling. Mentally drooling that is. I manage to keep all my saliva properly tucked behind closed lips.


    ¡°You really are beautiful, Marnye,¡± Zack says, his outfit so properly fitted to his massive frame that I have to wonder if this game wasn¡¯t pre-nned in advance. Sneaking a sideways nce at Windsor, I figure that it probably was. Nothing the prince does is idental.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, feeling my cheeks heat as Zack steps up close and puts his big hands on my shoulders, leaning down and giving me a proper kiss. It¡¯s much more polite than the bloody one he gave me on the field, when his tongue stole through my mouth with a possessive, ardent fire. He was iming me on that field, in front of all those people.


    If Charlie hadn¡¯t been in the stairwell at that exact moment, he would¡¯ve figured out my err, poly rtionship much sooner. This is a polyamorous rtionship, right? I mean, of sorts?


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kick their asses for you,¡± Zack says, rising up to his full height. He¡¯s intimidating as fuck. I would not want to be ying against him.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± Creed drawls, walking across the field and pausing in his red coat. He nces up at Windsor and cocks one, perfectly smooth blond brow. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not wearing a red coat, considering your lineage and all that.¡±


    ¡°Please, you Americans and your British insults. They¡¯re nothing but sad. Frankly, I find them quite pathetic. If you were to reallye at me, you¡¯d know I hadn¡¯t beenid in years, and you¡¯d call me a fuck-useless tosser, and be done with it. Now piss off, and let¡¯s start the match.¡± He gallops his horse into the field as Creed looks me over and offers up a smile that¡¯s nothing sort ofscivious.


    ¡°You¡¯re scary, when you smile like that,¡± I tell him, but he seems to take it as apliment and moves over to stand above me, brushing aside an errant strand of hair from my face.


    ¡°Good. I want the whole world to know I¡¯m not afraid to fuck them up if they mess with my uke.¡± I narrow my eyes on him, but he¡¯s so damn full of himself, he just turns away and straightens out his red coat.


    ¡°I am not an uke,¡± I grumble, because uke is literally a word derived from the Japanese verb ukeru which means to receive. And if you were thinking dirty, you were right. The uke is the one who, um, receives the anal sex in a male/male rtionship. ¡°And how do you even know what that is if you hate my ¡®gauche¡¯ manga so damn much, huh?¡±


    Creed ignores me, pausing as Tristan finally makes his way out of the stable on the back of a gleaming white horse. I sort of feel like he and Windsor should switch; it would suit their personalities better. But then I see the way he rides, his back straight, head up, like a true aristocrat, and I shiver all over. In that red jacket no less, he looks like a king. A god.


    ¡°Damn, if I were you, I¡¯d want to fuck him, too,¡± Zayd murmurs, smacking on some gum and swiping his tattooed hands down the front of his coat while Miranda and Andrew make their way over, both also dressed in ck.


    ¡°It¡¯s not right, to pair twins up to fight each other,¡± Creed mumbles, but Miranda ignores him.


    ¡°Alright, your highness, where¡¯s my horse? Let¡¯s get this battle started and shed some blood!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s disturbing,¡± Creed drawls at her, eyes heavy-lidded, ¡°how excited you are by the thought of violence. And Mom thinks I¡¯m the bully in the family.¡± She grabs him by the arm and drags him off toward the stables while I join Charlie and Alex in the shade of the stands, a few security guards sitting in a loose circle around them.


    There¡¯s plenty of wine and fruit, what¡¯s left of the pumpkin pie. Dad¡¯s eating a slice and smoking a joint. I swear, I will never get over the sight of him smoking pot. The thing is, it helps him eat, and it keeps his pain levels manageable. Once, when Mrs. Fleming brought over some of her special hand-rolled joints, and Dad smoked one on the front porch, the neighbor across the street stormed over to scream how on a federal level, marijuana was still a schedule one narcotic.


    I went all the way off on him about how the nt is medicinal, far safer than opiates, and frankly none of his damn business. He hasn¡¯t been over since. Nobody will take Charlie¡¯s pain management away on my watch.


    ¡°This should be fun,¡± he says, leaning back in the cushioned seat and


    smiling as I sit down next to him and fold my dress under my thighs. Apparently the game is broken up into segments called chukkas ¡­ or maybe chukkers? It¡¯s hard to tell with Windsor¡¯s ent sometimes.


    Princess Alexandra talks incessantly after the game starts, pointing out the better yers-Windsor and, unsurprisingly, Tristan-and telling us all about how she once met the man of her dreams stomping divots at the Portsea Polo Match in Australia. Apparently, Wind¡¯


    s dad was quite the athlete.

 270

    I¡¯m not much into sports, but watching my boyfriends ride around in sexy outfits on the backs of beautiful horses is a real treat, particrly because Charlie seems to be enjoying himself, brown eyes shining as he watches the match.


    The two teams are fairly evenly matched, with both experienced and inexperienced yers (Zayd is a cutie, but he¡¯s kind of useless, as is the security guard that got wrangled into the mix), and the score is close. I could tell that even without Alex exining it to me.


    No, it¡¯s all there in the set of her son¡¯s shoulders, the frown on his face, and the way his eyes lock on Tristan¡¯s from across the field.


    There might be other people out here, but they¡¯re having a very personal and private sparring match so far as I can tell.


    Tristan smirks, and the expression infuriates the prince even further, causing him to get sloppy and desperate with his moves-just like he warned Creed about during their sword fighting match. When his team loses, and he hops off his horse in a rage, I scramble to my feet.


    ¡°Be right back,¡± I tell Charlie and Alex, running down the steps and out from underneath the covered awning toward the barn. When Windsor York loses, he gets mad. And today, he is pissed.


    I manage to get in the building using a side door, just seconds before the prince does.


    Windsor storms into the barn, sweaty and furious, flicking his polo stick to the side. Dressed in those tight pants and boots, the hat, and the ck jacket, he¡¯s a fucking vision. He really does look like a prince right now; it¡¯d be impossible to think of him as anything else.


    He¡¯s panting hard and shaking. His gloved hands curl into fists as he looks down at me.


    ¡°What an insufferable brat your friend is,¡± he says, struggling to control


    himself. He hates to lose. Hates it. And he just lost on his home turf to Tristan Vanderbilt of all people. ¡°Maybe it was a mistake on my part to bring him back to Burberry?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Is that what you really think?¡± I ask as Windsor moves up to stand in front of me, and I step back, putting my body against the outside of one of the horse stalls. The soft sound of hooves and whickering filters through to me.


    ¡°I think ¡­¡± Windsor starts, reaching down to unbutton his jacket, carefully undoing each gold button with perfect precision. ¡°He¡¯s important to you, and I just want to give you what you want. There is that.¡± His jacketes undone, revealing the sweat-soaked white polo shirt underneath. Wind tosses his jacket aside onto the hay-covered dirt floor.


    ¡°You¡¯re working yourself too hard,¡± I tell him, because I¡¯ve been thinking that for a long time. Windsor York is always one step ahead, and fighting like hell to keep things that way. He needs a break. Even I know that. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be everywhere all the time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do,¡± he says, and then he tosses his ck helmet aside, letting it bounce across the stable floor. ¡°I won¡¯t let some spoiled American brats beat


    me.¡±


    My lips purse, but I can feel this thread of tension in Windsor that¡¯s snapped. Here¡¯s the bully of bullies I was so worried about before. I always figured if he came unleashed, he could do real damage. Of course, he¡¯s been doing damage all along behind the scenes, but ¡­ he seems pretty pissed at Tristan right now.


    I move away from the post and walk in a half-circle around him, the shortce dress I donned for the event whispering against my thighs. A breeze whistles down the corridor, and I reach up to keep the straw hat on my head from blowing off.


    ¡°Windsor,¡± I start, but he¡¯s already yanking his polo shirt aside and turning to face me, shirtless and sweaty and beautiful. He watches me with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his, a veritable mosaic of gray, green, gold, and brown flecks. It pairs perfectly with his red hair and the high, sharp lines of his cheekbones. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them back up. ¡°When ites to you, Marnye Elizabeth Reed, I haven¡¯t the slightest idea. I thought you¡¯d be a fast burn, fun way to pass the time ¡­¡± He steps forward, that daffodil and leather polish smell of his tickling my nostrils. It¡¯s mixed with that fresh sweat scent that brings to mind all sorts of naughty things we could be doing in the dark. ¡°Instead, you¡¯ve be a slow burn obsession.¡±


    ¡°An obsession, huh?¡± I whisper, finding it very hard to breathe in the dusky warmth of the barn. Windsor steps up close to me and uses one of his gloves to push the hair off of my forehead. ¡°Are you sure it isn¡¯t just because you don¡¯t want to lose?¡± I look up into his face, searching for the truth there. Windsor¡¯s a mix of emotions right now, the anger still riding high in his face. ¡°At first, I think you¡¯re right,¡± he says, his English ent softening a bit at the edges. ¡°You¡¯re bloody right. I didn¡¯t want to lose, not to the other boys,


    and not to the Infinity Club bastards. But ¡­ it¡¯s not like that anymore.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± I¡¯m studying him at the same time as he¡¯s studying me,


    drawing his fingers down the side of my face.


    ¡°I¡¯ve applied to Bornstead, you know. I¡¯m as hopeless as the rest of those arseholes.¡± Windsor reaches up and pulls the hat from my head, tossing it aside. ¡°My mother wants me to go to school in Ennd, but I¡¯ve never been interested.¡±


    ¡°Bornstead, huh?¡± I ask, feeling this happy flush shoot through me. ¡°What will you study there?¡±


    Windsor¡¯s mouth twists into a smile.


    ¡°Do you want to kiss me right now, Marnye Reed?¡± he asks,pletely side-stepping the question. ¡°Because I¡¯m dying to kiss you.¡± Windsor steps forward and curves his fingers gently against the back of my neck, breathing lightly against my lips before he finally closes the dista


    nce and kisses me properly.

 271

    His kiss is just as possessive as Zack¡¯s, but in apletely different way. Zack kisses like an alpha in need of a mate, while Wind ¡­ he kisses like a royal giving a decree. Hemands me with his mouth, tasting me and offering up an exquisite burn of pleasure that has me gasping and backing away.


    A gloved hand curls around my wrist, and he yanks me against his bare and sweaty chest, the hardness beneath his riding pants pressing into my stomach. The way he looks down at me, I can see it. He doesn¡¯t believe he can lose, not in this. His feelings for me might be genuine, but I don¡¯t like the cocky attitude.


    ¡°You better wipe that smirk off your face,¡± I tell him, but his smile simply stretches into a carnal grin. I¡¯d say it were feral if it weren¡¯t so polished, but there is that edge there, reminding me that no matter how good he¡¯s been to me, no matter how loyal a friend, he¡¯s dangerous as hell, too.


    ¡°Make me.¡± Windsor backs me up toward the open door of a stall and pushes me in, sending me to my ass in a pile of warm, dry hay. He kneels down between my legs as my heart thunders a mile a minute, my pulse heating my blood and sending it to all the ces my body wishes he would touch. ¡°Make me, Marnye Reed. Tame the bad boy. That¡¯s what you like, isn¡¯t it? The chase, the challenge.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± I tell him, but maybe he¡¯s right. Maybe I do have a thing for the broken ones? I like to fix things, make them right again, study the world and learn how it works. What makes this any different?


    ¡°Sure it isn¡¯t,¡± Windsor says, putting his palms on my legs and making me flush. He takes hold of my knees and carefully spreads my legs, maintaining eye contact with me all the while. ¡°I hate your friend, but I like you too much to care.¡± He smooths his hands up the insides of my legs and makes


    me moan, the whinny of a horse two stalls down the only sound besides ourbored breathing.


    Windsor leans down and presses a kiss to the inside of my knee, working his way up toward my panties until I¡¯m panting and shaking, desperate for him to touch something besides just my leg. He reaches down with two fingers and pulls a condom from his boot.


    His boot.


    He was keeping one in his fucking boot.


    ¡°You¡¯re a monster,¡± I whisper, but I mean that in the most affectionate way possible as he finally leans down and nips at my panties, getting my clit just enough that my hips buck up involuntarily.


    ¡°Maybe, but I¡¯m your monster. You should see what I¡¯ve got nned for that bitch Ileana Taittinger. When we get back to school, I¡¯ll hand you her head on a te as a Christmas gift.¡± Windsor sits up and opens his fly with deft movements of his gloved fingers, keeping eye contact with me all the way. He frees his shaft, and my breathing picks up an even quicker pace.


    But I can¡¯t look away from him to see it. I¡¯ll have to lookter.


    The condom is on in seconds, and then Wind is climbing over me, still looking down into my eyes. He pushes my panties aside, positions himself at my opening, and drives into me with a deep, hard thrust. I see stars, and tears form at the edges of my eyes as he groans, some of that perfect princely polish falling away in desperate male sounds of pleasure.


    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he groans, putting his face against my neck for just a moment to breathe, and then he looks back down at me with those hazel eyes, the gold bits seeming to shine even brighter than usual. I can feel him inside of me, taking up every spare bit of space. Windsor takes my hand in one of his gloved ones and puts it between us, encouraging me to pleasure myself with my fingers. ¡°Oh yes, Marnye,¡± he murmurs, ¡°so worth the wait.¡±


    The prince fucks me into the pile of hay with deep, quick movements, his hips pushing against mine as one of his gloved hands closes over my breast and he bites the nipple through thece. I¡¯m lost to him,pletely and utterly destroyed.


    It¡¯s quick and messy, our frantic coupling in the barn, but Wind is right: so worth the wait. My orgasm is like a ripple on a pond, starting small in my core and then taking over my body in waves until it¡¯s a tsunami that destroys me from the inside out. Windes hard with a final thrust, so deep that IThis belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    can feel him touch me in a ce that feels both strange and good at the same time.


    My hands cling to his sweaty, bare back as he shudders and then finally goes still, bracing himself above me with his elbows. Another horse whinnies nearby.


    ¡°Bloody hell,¡± he murmurs, staying right where he is, still sheathed inside of me. We¡¯re both having trouble breathing, I think. ¡°Bloody fucking cocksucking hell.¡± Wind finally looks back over at me and our eyes meet. It¡¯s too much, looking at him while he¡¯s still inside, and I try to look away. He touches my cheek with gloved fingers and forces me back. ¡°You, Mdy, are staying in my room tonight.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how the other boys would feel about that,¡± I choke out, but Wind just smirks and sits up, pulling me along with him, so that my head is against his sweaty chest, his heart thundering against my ear. I like that, hearing his heart.


    ¡°Come find me in bedter and ask me how much I fucking care,¡± he says, and then we sit there together for a while in silence.


    When wee out of the barn a few minutester, fully dressed, but still


    recovering from our encounter, I feel like Zayd is the only one that notices, narrowing his green eyes in our direction. Creed and Miranda are too busy fighting, Zack is keeping Charlie entertained, and Tristan is nowhere to be seen.


    Probably a good thing.


    Since I think Windsor wanted to kill him earlier.


    ¡°Have a nice chat?¡± Zayd asks, leaning back on the bench and putting his tattooed arms out behind him. He¡¯s still wearing the polo shirt, but he¡¯s tossed the jacket.


    ¡°You have no idea,¡± Wind purrs in his English ent, and I shiver.


    He¡¯s been a good friend to me all along. Now, when I nce over at him, something feels different.


    Deeper, darker ¡­ impossible to ignore.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zayd responds, voice tight and clipped with jealousy. Jealousy.


    How the hell am I going to manage an entire harem of bullies for the rest of the year?


    Guess only time will tell that.

 272

    December at Burberry Prep is always fun. There¡¯s a giant Christmas tree in the student lounge, but I¡¯ve never really had the chance to appreciate it, considering my previous circumstances. It¡¯s quiet and secluded up here, and the student council-most of whom I¡¯ve never met-actually runs a tiny cafe where students can purchase coffee or croissants.


    It¡¯s like ¡­ halfway between The Mess and the library, but without much employee supervision.


    Essentially, it¡¯s the ideal ce to get jumped.


    Since second year, I¡¯ve been preparing my case against Harper.


    I¡¯m not worried about her. Some of the others however, I¡¯m struggling with. They all deserve to get theirs, but I¡¯m not willing to break my rules, no matter what Zack says.


    ¡°I like it up here,¡± I say, sitting next to Tristan on one of the leather couches in the student lounge. ¡°Thest time I was up here, I was giving Wind a tour of the school.¡± My face burns, and I do my best not to think about how much hay I had stuck in my butt crack. Or how I gave in and tiptoed to Wind¡¯s bedroomter that night. He spent almost two hours between my thighs with his mouth.


    ¡°So do I. Too bad we wasted four years not using it.¡± Tristan Vanderbilt taps his fingers on the couch arm, and then pauses to look over as Lizzie Walton appears with a cup of coffee on a saucer, and a white bag in her other


    hand filled with pastries. ¡°Excuse me.¡± Tristan stands up and then sets something down on the stack of papers in front of me, most of which are schrship pamphlets I picked up during the academic fairst week.


    Tristan ¡­ kind of needs to apply to as many as he can.


    ¡°I brought food for everyone, but ¡­¡± She trails off and watches him leave before sitting down in the chair nearest me. I nce down at whatever it is that Tristan left, and then flush ten shades of crimson when I see it¡¯s his test results, just like I saw with Zack, Zayd, and even Windsor. He emailed me his, and I just happened to have Charlie standing near me when I opened it


    ¡­


    Needless to say, we had a small birds and the bees sex talk that ended with him giving me a book that looks like it¡¯s from 1982, all about how people in love can make each other happy with their bodies ¡­ Gross.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Lizzie asks me, waving her hand in front of my face. I look up and force a smile, folding the page in half, so she can¡¯t see it. If Tristan gave me this then ¡­ but I notice that she¡¯s also got a folded in half piece of paper clutched in her hand, too.


    No, I¡¯m being paranoid. I¡¯m imagining things. I¡¯m ¡­


    ¡°Why did you pick me?¡± I ask suddenly as Lizzie sets her food down and tosses shiny dark hair over one shoulder. She freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights. I mean, I¡¯ve heard this story from Zack, but I want to hear it from her, too.


    ¡°For ¡­¡±


    ¡°The bet,¡± I rify, as if there was anything else. My hand subconsciously reaches down to rest atop my shed out infinity tattoo. I know it¡¯s all in my head, but it feels like it burns sometimes. I just hate the way the world works, how the super-rich control everything, and how they rule withoutpassion.


    The Club is ¡­ just that, but on a smaller scale. Nothing is different; nothing has changed.


    ¡°Right.¡± Lizzie sighs and closes her eyes. Her all-ck uniform is perfectly pressed and polished, much like Tristan¡¯s, never a fold or wrinkle or stitch out of ce. When she opens her amber eyes and looks back over at me, I keep my gaze neutral. ¡°It feels so stupid now, but ¡­ back then I was so angry. Your mother¡¯s new husband, Adam Carmichael, he¡¯d been sleeping with my sister.¡± I wait, seeing if she might borate a little. Fortunately, the


    silence, filled only with the clink of cups and the distant murmur of a coffee grinder, seems to spur her on. ¡°And then there was you, this ¡­ easy target. You were going to school with Zack, and ¡­ to be honest with you, I didn¡¯t care. I hated Adam, and I hated the Carmichaels, and I just ¡­¡± She trails off again and looks away, toward the snack counter. ¡°I didn¡¯t think of you as a real person back then, just a distant object. I thought of them all that way, all the Plebs.¡±


    My mouth tightens into a thin line as Lizzie looks back over at me. ¡°That¡¯s it? I was coteral damage? Nothing more?¡± Somehow that makes


    it even shittier.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, that, and when Zack mentioned you in passing, I ¡­ maybe I was jealous. He called you beautiful. I¡¯d never heard him talk about a girl like that before.¡± Lizzie and I stare at each other, and her face flushes. Hopefully she realizes how ridiculous she sounds. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t say it enough. I¡¯ll say it forever if I have to: I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sorry now,¡± I tell her, and then I guess maybe her embarrassment is too much, or I¡¯ve pushed her too hard or something because she gets really freaking cranky then.


    ¡°Look, you¡¯ve gotten your revenge on me. You have Tristan now, and what do I have?¡± She stands up and knocks her bag of pastries to the floor, spilling crumbs everywhere, her ck pleated skirt swirling around her thighs. ¡°I have nothing. Nobody. Nobody likes me at this school. I came here to help you, I ¡­¡± She trails off, and then pauses when she realizes I have no ns to engage her on this.


    ¡°I had you on my list, you know, for revenge.¡± I stand up and gather my things in my arms, my bookbag clutched in tight fingers as I look over and meet Lizzie¡¯s eyes. ¡°But you were so heartbroken when you saw Tristan and Harper engaged that I couldn¡¯t d


    o it anymore. That was it.

 273

    I thought you were hurting enough. But if I¡¯d wanted to, I could¡¯ve gone a lot further. Look, I¡¯m giving you a fair shot at him because I want him to be the one to make the decision, but what you did to me was wrong. I hope you truly realize that.¡±


    I take off, and then pause when I hear the ttering sound of broken ss, ncing back over my shoulder to see that Lizzie¡¯s knocked her coffee cup and saucer to the floor. She¡¯s quite literally panting with frustration, but I don¡¯t have the time to deal with it.


    Something else is going on with her, and it has nothing to do with me.


    Later that same day, when I¡¯m walking out of The Mess with Miranda by my side, Harperes storming down the hallway in a violent rage. She pauses next to me, teeth gritted, and jabs me in the chest with a finger.


    ¡°I¡¯m biding my time, but when I finally do deal with you, Reed, you are fucking dead. Do you hear me?¡± She shoves me back, and Miranda goes for her, but I hold her back, waiting until Harper¡¯s around the corner before I let go. I¡¯m about to head off in search of Wind when he finds me, like he always does.


    He chucks something at me, and I catch it, realizing quite quickly that it¡¯s not something I want to be holding onto at all. It¡¯s a wet, soggy bra. Not mine, most definitely. Somebody else¡¯s.


    ¡°Eww.¡± I drop it and Wind catches it in quick fingers, tossing it into the nearby trash can before Ms. Felton and Mrs. Collinse around the corner with a sobbing Ileana between them. She¡¯s holding her hand over her chest and weeping.


    ¡°I promised you I¡¯d deal with her.¡±


    ¡°Windsor,¡± I start, a warning note in my voice. He looks back at me with a dark expression that quickly morphs into a hunger that my body responds to, even if my brain rebels against it. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°I posted Ileana¡¯s private messages to Harper on Becky¡¯s Facebook page. Becky ¡­¡± He pauses again as Becky tter rages past us, barely ncing in our direction. ¡°As I was saying, Becky shoved her down the stairs and poor Ileananded chest first. I think ¡­ you wouldn¡¯t say pop ¡­¡± Wind snaps his fingers and smiles at me while Miranda gapes at him. ¡°I think you¡¯d call it rupturing. Her breast imnt ruptured. I know you abhor violence, but to be fair, even I couldn¡¯t have predicted the oue.¡±


    ¡°Her boob ¡­ ruptured?¡± I ask, and then I wipe my hands desperately on the front of my uniform. ¡°What was I just touching then?!¡±


    ¡°Oh, that? When they got in a fight at the bottom of the steps, Becky snapped Ileana¡¯s bra and tore it off. I simply picked it up. The wetness is just bottled water that Becky threw on her first. Like you said, let them hang themselves, right?¡± He shrugs. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have done a better job myself.¡±


    I almost feel sorry for Ileana. That is, until I remember she tried to drown me, then brand me. That, and whatever she said about Becky must¡¯ve been bad for things to go down that way. Still, that¡¯s sort of a horrible way to go.


    ¡°Why do the mean girls in books and movies always have breast imnts?¡± Miranda murmurs under her breath, reaching up two fingers to touch the side of her head. ¡°It¡¯s like, somehow demonizing women for daring to follow the patriarchal ideals of beauty and femininity is somehow satisfying to the masses?¡±


    ¡°Or ¡­ she fell down the stairs andnded on her chest after Becky read that Ileana purposely snooped in the tters¡¯ home office and leaked confidential papers regarding the family business. There¡¯s that, too.¡± Windsor pauses, exhales, and then lifts his palms up toward the stone ceiling. ¡°I¡¯m not one to pass judgement on good fortune, but I also feel like I still owe you, Marnye. Wait for it. I¡¯ve got other ideas in store for you.¡± He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, then a slow,nguorous one on my lips, and then stands up to straighten out his ck tie and zer.


    When he takes off that time, I know he¡¯s up to no good. And that his no-good ¡­ actually looks really good on him.


    The week before winter break, I¡¯m desperately trying to juggle schoolwork, worry for Charlie, and thest of my revenge plots before school lets out. Also, I¡¯m trying really hard not to have a heart attack because I have a half- dozen emails in my inbox, just waiting to be opened.


    One is from Bornstead University, located in northern Colorado, the school of my dreams.


    Everything I¡¯ve suffered, everything I¡¯ve worked for ¡­ it alles down to this moment, doesn¡¯t it? This one, final moment.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it.¡± I push the tablet aside and put my hands over my face. I¡¯m shaking all over. ¡°I can¡¯t look at it. Somebody else open it.¡±


    ¡°Nah, babe,¡± Zayd says, pulling me into hisp and nuzzling his face in the spot between my neck and shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve worked your ass off for this. We can¡¯t take that glory away from you.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t, but I can,¡± Creed says, taking the tablet and giving the first of the emails a tap with his finger.


    ¡°You say glory, but ¡­¡± My heart sinks as I imagine reading rejection letter after rejection letter. I stuck at Burberry Prep, despite all the horror, because I wanted the best high school education possible. Good high school means good college means good job means ¡­ I can take care of Charlie for the rest of his life, give him a good retirement. I always promised I¡¯d buy him a speedboat as a gift when he turned sixty. ¡°It might be all heartache.¡±


    I¡¯m only half-serious really because even though I¡¯m worried about Bornstead-it is the most prestigious school on this half of the United States


    -I know I¡¯ll get in somewhere. If my ns work out, I¡¯ll be valedictorianContent is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    (sorry, Tristan, but you can be salutatorian with my congrats) and I¡¯m basically guaranteed a spot at most four-year schools.


    ¡°This first one, from Brown ¡­¡± Creed trails off, his voice tight. ¡°It¡¯s a rejection.¡±


    Zayd stiffens with his arms around me, and I feel my lunch threatening toe up in my throat.


    No.


    No fucking way.


    Brown should ¡­ that should¡¯ve been a sure thing. I spin around, and find Creed shaking as he stares at the screen, his eyes half-lidded and heavy, but his face so tense that he looks like he could bite and it would hurt.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be,¡± he whispers, selecting the next email. ¡°Fuck.¡± I don¡¯t need to be an expert in thenguage ofzy bad boys to know that the word fuck roughly trantes to rejection. ¡°No. How ¡­¡±


    ¡°Early admissions letters are in,¡± Harper purrs as she saunters up to us and tickles Creed¡¯s blond hair with her finger. He ps her hand away so hard, there¡¯s an audible crack that causes the entire student lounge to fall silent. The only noise in that room is the click of the toy train on its tracks around


    the Christmas tree. ¡°I hope you like your results, Working Girl. I pulled some favors, same as your little friend over here. But the difference between a Cabot and a du Pont is that money doesn¡¯t always have as much pull as a good game of golf with old friends.¡±


    ¡°You fucking snake,¡± Creed snaps, standing up so quickly that the iPad falls to the floor. He grabs Harper by her tie and yanks her close. The move doesn¡¯t wipe the smirk off her face, but the murmuring in the lounge starts up anew. ¡°I should¡¯ve fucking known.¡±


    Harper pushes Creed¡¯s hand off her and steps back, letting her eyes swing over to mine.


    ¡°I hear they have a greatmunity college in Cruz Bay. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll fit right in with the rest of the peasant trash.¡± Creed goes to shove Harper, but I move forward and wrap my fingers around his arm to hold him back, Zayd backing us both up from behind. I know these boys. They will beat the shit out of Harper du Pont if given the chance, regardless of her gender.


    ¡°She¡¯s not worth it,¡± I say, trying to hold back this wash of devastation. I stayed at this school, and I suffered and for what? Of course, I know I¡¯ve gained more over my three and a half years here than just a good schooling. Miranda and Andrew, they


    ¡®re the type of friends you keep for life.

 274

    And the boys ¡­ the boys ¡­ ¡°Let her go. I have other ns for her.¡±


    ¡°Do you now?¡± Harper asks, backing up toward the door. ¡°Because I¡¯d like to see them. I was starting to wonder if the kitty had lost its ws.¡± She curls her fingers at me and makes a shing motion before spinning away in a flurry of bloodred hair and ck skirts.


    Slowly, I bend down and pick the iPad off the floor, sitting down on the couch with it in myp. Zayd and Creed take up spots on either side of me. Because of the incredible efficiency of the Burberry Prep gossip train, the other Idols know there¡¯s been trouble, and within minutes, everyone¡¯s there, gathered around me.


    ¡°They¡¯re all rejections?¡± Windsor asks, his jaw clenched tight. ¡°For sure?


    I thought we worked on this?¡±


    ¡°We did,¡± Creed breathes, and I realize just how much effort these guys are having to put in just to keep my life normal. ¡°My mom, she ¡­ I told her how important this was.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    ¡°I got into Bornstead,¡± Miranda whispers, holding up her tablet, so I can see. ¡°I wasing up here to show you. If I got in, then I bet you did, too.


    Don¡¯t you think Harper would stop me if she could?¡±


    ¡°Did you all get in?¡± I ask, and Creed and Zayd exchange a look over the top of me.


    ¡°Open the email,¡± Zack encourages as Tristan crosses his arms over his chest and watches with a stoic gaze. I wet my lower lip and then, just because I want to punish myself further, I look at the other three emails. All of them start with Thank you for your application, however ¡­ All of them.


    Bornstead is thest one, sitting there at the top of the list, this mocking line of text on the screen of my tablet. I hesitate for a moment, and then decide that if I¡¯m going to go through this pain, I may as well do it here, surrounded by my friends.


    I click the email, and nearly choke.


    Tears spring to my eyes, and I curl forward around the tablet, squeezing it close to my chest.


    ¡°What? What is it?¡± Creed asks, his half-lidded eyes open wide. They look like saucers in his pale, handsome face. ¡°What the fuck did it say?¡±


    I close my own eyes for a moment to catch my breath, and then sit back up, breathing heavily, my heart pounding. I turn to Creed first, and he lifts his brows up.


    ¡°I did it. I¡¯m in. I got in. I¡¯m in.¡±


    His mouth opens in shock as Miranda squeals, and I soon find myself in Creed¡¯sp. He¡¯s a sloth sure, but when he wants to be, he¡¯s lightning quick. His mouth is on mine, and he¡¯s kissing me with slow,zy perfection until Zayd clears his throat and draws both of us up and out of our stupor.


    ¡°So, the twins got in, I got in ¡­¡± He nces over at the rest of the group. ¡°I already told you, Mdy, I¡¯d follow you to the ends of the earth. Of


    course, I¡¯ming. If you¡¯ll have me, that is.¡± Windsor shrugs, the weird gold epaulette things he attached to his uniform shimmering as he shrugs. Of course he has to break the severe nature of the fourth-year uniform with gold dangling bits on his shoulders. He wouldn¡¯t be Windsor York if he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯m ying football for Bornstead, it¡¯s official,¡± Zack says, but Andrew¡¯s shaking his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna miss you assholes, but I¡¯m going to Stanford. Sorry.¡± He cringes slightly and makes a prayer shape with his hands. ¡°And it¡¯s not because Gary¡¯s going there, so don¡¯t believe the rumor. I always knew we


    were a temporary thing. Actually, I¡¯ve been casually emailing this guy who goes to Adamson All-Boys Academy ¡­ now that might be a thing.¡±


    ¡°You keep talking to these inte weirdos, and one day you¡¯re going to get turned into ampshade,¡± Miranda warns him, but I¡¯m so happy I¡¯m crying. There are literal tears streaming down my face, and I can¡¯t stop them. I stand up suddenly, and everyone goes quiet. I look right at Tristan, but he says nothing. He doesn¡¯t have to. I know he got in. The question is: is he going to go to Bornstead with me ¡­ or somewhere else? Somewhere with


    Lizzie, perhaps?


    My mind is holding onto that information about his dad, the possibility of reiming his father and a fortune bolstered by his father¡¯s new bride ¡­ My eyes stray to Zack briefly, and he meets my gaze dead-on. There¡¯s family issues there, too, that I want to sort through.


    But first ¡­


    ¡°Popcorn and movie time, my room. We can make sharing that bed work.¡± ¡°And tea,¡± Windsor adds, holding up a finger. ¡°Please don¡¯t forget.¡±


    Everyone stands up and shuffles toward the door,ughing, talking ¡­ it feels too good to be true.


    I¡¯ve noticed in life that when something feels that way, there¡¯s usually a reason for it.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to Bornstead, are you?¡± I ask Tristan, but he just stares at me like he¡¯s waiting for something.


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯d like, Charity? Would that make you happy?¡±


    ¡°Where did you get that ck eye?¡± I ask, sidestepping his question. It feels too personal to answer anyhow, and I swear, we probably only have like thirty seconds before Mirandaes back in here and yells at me for taking too long. ¡°During fall break, where-¡±


    ¡°I know all about my own ck eye; I don¡¯t need you to describe it to me.¡± He reaches up and touches the side of his face in remembrance. I frown, but I know being a dickhead is his way of practicing self-defense. ¡°And you, better than anyone, know perfectly well who gave it to me.¡±


    ¡°Your dad?¡± Tristan shrugs and turns away. I step toward him, a question on my lips that I know I shouldn¡¯t ask but can¡¯t help and then ¡­


    It¡¯s actually Zayd this time thates tromping in to bug us.


    ¡°Come on, Charity, it¡¯s celebration time,¡± Zayd scoops me up in his arms and carries me out the door and down the steps.


    We head down to my dorm and go inside, tea is served all around, and the movie is started.


    It¡¯s nearly ten minutes before there¡¯s a knock on the door, and Zack gets up to answer. Without a word, Tristan steps inside and joins us.


    Now the bullying and behind-the-scenes maniption from Harper, that¡¯s expected.


    Seeing the king of the school in my room eating


    popcorn? That¡¯s the shock of a lifetime.

 275

    To celebrate my eptance into Bornstead, Dad and I go out for waffles first thing. He has to take a seriously loaded edible before we go because he¡¯s having trouble eating. Or rather, he says he just doesn¡¯t feel much like eating.


    I¡¯ve missed him like crazy, and sitting across from him in the Station, I feel this inescapable fear that takes hold of every part of my body and won¡¯t let go. My dreams of getting rich and putting Dad up in a mansion to enjoy his retirement seem like a bunch of bullshit right now, like the naive whimsy of a sheltered girl.


    Charlie ¡­ he¡¯s dying.


    It¡¯s almost too much for me to handle, that rush of feeling, but for Dad, I crush it all down and hide it away. Later, it¡¯s going to rear its ugly head and bite me in the ass, I just know it.


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± I ask himter that evening, as he sits on the couch and sips a hot chocte with whipped cream, red and green sprinkles dotting the top. I¡¯m hanging ornaments, but my hands are shaking. I hide the emotion from Charlie, turning back to the sweet scent of pine and sap-covered branches. All the guys are in town-and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s by ident. No, it¡¯s most definitely by design.


    Either they want to be close to me ¡­ or else they feel sorry for me. I can¡¯t decide. But honestly, I¡¯m d they¡¯re in Cruz Bay for winter break.


    Knowing that I have people out there in case I need support, that¡¯s priceless. Text messages are nice, video chatting is better, but there¡¯s nothing like holding the hand of someone you love.


    That¡¯s irreceable.


    Tears sting my eyes, but I continue hanging ornaments, pulling one after the other from the box. There¡¯s a zed ceramic circle with a picture of me as a baby, cradled in Dad¡¯s arms. He looks like a different person there, his skin smooth, cheeks full, mouth turned up in a genuine sort of smile. I almost lose it when I see that ornament.


    ¡°Of course, Marnye-bear, what about?¡±


    I nce over my shoulder, and I wonder if it¡¯s even worth it to bring this up. The thing is, I have to know. And I imagine that Charlie Reed is the only person who might be willing to tell me the truth.


    ¡°Isabe, is she ¡­¡± Dad pauses, his mug of hot cocoa halfway to his lips. ¡°Is she your daughter?¡±Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    There¡¯s a long stretch of tense silence, so much so that I wonder if he¡¯s even going to answer me.


    ¡°Why would you think that, honey?¡±


    I hang the special ornament near the top of the tree before I turn around, dressed in fuzzy nnel pajamas that I¡¯m sure the guys would lose their shit over. If they liked the duck pj¡¯s, well, this reindeer onesie with the giant horns on the hood could seriously rock their boat.


    ¡°She looks like you, and me, really. And when I walked in after school let outst year, you were crying. I know you said you were just happy for me to finally meet my sister, but it¡¯s more than that, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Dad nces away, like he can¡¯t bear to have this conversation.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± he whispers, voice tight, so strained that I feel suddenly like an asshole. I never should¡¯ve brought this up, not with him in this condition. He looks back at me, face set in a determined frown. ¡°I didn¡¯t know she was mine, or I would¡¯ve ¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have let Jennifer keep us apart.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± I breathe, moving over to sit beside him. I lean in close, and he puts his arm around me. ¡°You love your kids more than anything. Trust me, I¡¯m the consummate expert on the subject.¡± Charlieughs, but it ends in a coughing fit that leaves the handkerchief he¡¯s using dotted with flecks of red. Coincidently, it¡¯s the same handkerchief that Tristan gave me on the first


    day of third year. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I whisper, but Charlie just shakes his head and waves me away.


    ¡°Marnye, I want you to have a rtionship with your mother. With your sister, too. That way, when I¡¯m gone-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t please,¡± I snap, sitting up suddenly and rubbing my hands down my face. ¡°Please don¡¯t talk like that.¡±


    ¡°Marnye, there¡¯s a difference between staying positive and burying your head in the sand. You know I love you, honey, and if I could I¡¯d be by your side until I was old and gray. Sometimes though, the universe doesn¡¯t give us what we want.¡±


    ¡°The new baby, Marley, is she yours, too?¡± I nce over at Charlie, but he just shakes his head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Jennifer seems to think she is, but we don¡¯t know for sure.


    At this point, it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s better for us not to know, really.¡±


    ¡°How can you say that?¡± I whisper, feeling myself start to break. I try to stay strong, but sometimes even the hardiest of us have our breaking points. ¡°If she¡¯s your kid, you have a right to know. She has a right to know. You¡¯re a better father than a thousand Adam Carmichaels. His money doesn¡¯t make him a good person or a good dad, and you know it.¡±


    ¡°Better for her to have a young, healthy absentee father than no father at all. Marnye, I hate it, too. I do. But what good will it do to break up their family? Isabe loves the man she¡¯s always thought of as her dad, and she¡¯s well-taken care of. Jennifer, too, and Marley. You have a ce there now, and-¡±


    ¡°I love you, but I¡¯m tired,¡± I blurt, cutting off the conversation and standing up to give Charlie a kiss on the forehead. I can only handle so much at once without breaking. ¡°Do you want me to help you into bed?¡±


    Heughs, but it¡¯s a sound that¡¯s equally mixed with mncholy and mirth both.


    ¡°I can put myself to bed still, Marnye-bear, don¡¯t you worry.¡± I help him up off the couch, and he gives me one more hug before bed. ¡°Think about what I said, okay? Sometimes things aren¡¯t perfect, but we do the best we can with what we have.¡±


    He heads off down the hall and closes his door behind him.


    I sink down on the ground in front of the Christmas tree and look at that ornament, tears streaming down my face. After a while, I can¡¯t take it


    anymore. I get my phone and text Zack, slipping out the front door to meet him when he pulls up in his orange McLaren.


    ¡°I can¡¯t go anywhere, I don¡¯t want to leave him alone, but I can¡¯t take it.


    Zack, I can¡¯t do it. I can¡¯t just sit here and watch him die.¡±


    Zack folds me in his arms and pulls me close, holding me so tight that for the briefest of moments, I feel shielded from the ugliness in the world. How weird is that? The boy who was once the source of much of my darkness is now the light that chases it away.


    ¡°You can, Marnye, you¡¯re strong enough for that. And if for some reason, you feel yourself faltering, I¡¯ll be that strength for you.¡± I bury my face under Zack¡¯s letterman jacket, hiding the freezing tip of my nose from the cold, winter air. He smells like grapefruit and freshlyundered clothes and maybe a little like apple cider and cinnamon.


    ¡°You smell like Christmas,¡± I whisper, closing my eyes. Zack strokes his hand over the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair.


    ¡°My mom and sister heard about me cooking on Thanksgiving and demanded a repeat performance. We made msses cookies from scratch and drank cider.¡± There¡¯s a pause and Zack exhales as I step back and look up at his face. He¡¯s all serious and shit until he notices the reindeer antlers on my hood. ¡°Are you ¡­ dressed up like Rudolph?¡± He flips the hood up over my head, and then leans down to peer in at me with those dark, brooding eyes of his.


    ¡°Rudolph would imply a red nose,¡± I grumble, reaching up to rub at my own. ¡°Is it that red already? Because I seriously thought I was jus


    t dressed up like Blitzen ¡­ or something.¡±

 276

    Zackughs, this low, soft sweet sound that¡¯s so at odds with his big, broad shoulders and imposing stare that I smile. Despite everything, I actually smile.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get inside before your nose starts glowing. Cute as it is, I¡¯d rather hang out with you than watch Santa hook you to his sleigh.¡±


    ¡°You still believe in Santa, huh?¡± I ask as Zack opens the front door for me and ushers me in. The delicate whisper of Christmas carols drifts from the kitchen, and Charlie¡¯s loud snores reverberate down the hall. His snoring used to bug me, so much so that sometimes I¡¯d sleep with ear plugs or put a pillow over my face. But now ¡­ I wish I could fall sleep to that bear-like grumble forever.


    ¡°Duh. Who doesn¡¯t? You want to invite Krampus in to wreak havoc?¡± I head toward my room, but Zack pulls me into the kitchen instead. ¡°Do you mind?¡± he asks, pointing at the fridge, and I nod, noticing that small but important difference between him and Windsor.


    The prince just waltzes around like he owns the world. He opens cabs and fridges without even thinking to ask. I like that about him, but I also like that Zack, at least, has learned some humility. Other people¡¯s boundaries actually mean something to him now.


    ¡°Go right ahead.¡± I watch as Zack gathers ingredients from around the kitchen andys them out on the counter. ¡°You believe in Krampus, too, huh? Scary.¡±


    ¡°So scary. But not as scary as the epic fights between my dad and grandpa.¡± Zack pulls his phone out, looks up a recipe, and sets it aside before he moves to the sink to wash his big hands. Mm. Football yer, rich boy, baking Christmas cookies in my house at midnight on Christmas Eve-Eve, that is, the day before Christmas Eve. Maybe I¡¯m the only person in the world that calls it Eve-Eve?


    ¡°What were they fighting about this time?¡± I ask as Zack pulls me forward


    and puts an egg in my hand. There¡¯s a bottle of msses on the counter, so I¡¯m guessing we¡¯re recreating the same cookies he made with his family. None of themps are on in the house, just the colored strands of lights on the tree, and the single white strand wrapped in gand over the sink.


    My house, my sink, I remind myself, my lips curving into a private smile. Thest thing Dad needed was the stress of a move, or an overbearingndlord. Harper du Pont is going down, and going down hard. When Ie at her, the whole world will know.


    ¡°All sorts of things. I mean, there was the usual stuff: politics, religion, whatever. They got into this heated verbal brawl over whether the sweet potato dish I made should have marshmallows on it or not. That¡¯s when I knew things were getting bad.¡± Zack¡¯s low, rumbling voice seems right at home in the tiny space. Although he looks a bit like a giant in a dwarf¡¯s kitchen, he takes up the space admirably, like he belongs there regardless.


    I crack my egg into the bowl and toss the shell in the trash. I¡¯m not going to tell Dad about the house, not just yet. If I do, then I¡¯ll have to exin why Windsor bought me a house without sounding like I¡¯m living some teen version of Fifty Shades of Grey, like oh, Mr. Sexy Man, I love that you own


    the ce I live in. Control me, dominant me. Bleh. I shiver as I think about the prince fucking me in the barn. Ugh. Yeah, no, it¡¯s best if I just don¡¯t tell Dad until he ¡­ until he gets healthy again.


    ¡°Did they fight about me and you, too?¡± I ask, and Zack doesn¡¯t answer right away, stirring the dry ingredients together and then reaching up to rub his hand over his forehead, smearing it with a streak of flour.


    ¡°They both see me as their legacy, their pawn, some piece to move around a board.¡± Zack and Ibine our bowls, and soon we¡¯ve got a sweet- smelling, sticky dough that Zack puts in the freezer to firm up a bit. When I move over to the sink to wash my hands, he steps up behind me and curves his arms around me, helping me cleanse the dough from under my fingernails. ¡°They want me to marry Kiara Xiao.¡±


    ¡°The girl Tristan-¡± I start, but that memory is too much right now. I can¡¯t handle it. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zack breathes, turning the sink off and pulling me against him. ¡°She¡¯s not right for me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, because she¡¯s a spoiled rotten brat who fits in so well with the Harpies I can¡¯t tell her ws apart from the rest of them.¡± I turn around, so close to Zack that the swell of my breasts brush up against his chest. I bet I look pretty ridiculous in my outfit, but not him. He doesn¡¯t look ridiculous at all, just ¡­ gorgeous, like the front cover of some sports magazine. It¡¯s his lower lip that really does it for me, so full and ripe. My thumbes up of its own ord and traces the shape of it. Zack shudders and sighs under my touch, like I¡¯ve somehow managed to put him in a thrall.


    ¡°Well, all of those things, and also ¡­ because she isn¡¯t you.¡± He shrugs his shoulders and steps away from me, like he¡¯s trying to extricate himself from the tension between us. Not sure why. Doesn¡¯t he know I¡¯m going to ask him to stay the night? ¡°You could leave the dough in the fridge overnight, and bake it in the morning so the cookies are fresh.¡±


    ¡°I could do that,¡± I say with a nod, folding my brown-furred arms over my equally brown-furred chest. ¡°And you could try to sneak out in the morning before Dad knows you¡¯re here?¡± I look up at Zack¡¯s face and watch as his tight expression loosens up a little.


    ¡°You sure you still want me, after Zayd and Windsor?¡± He pauses, frowning slightly. I didn¡¯t have to tell the guys about me and Windsor because, well, Wind did it for me before I got a chance. And then I jumped


    in the pool and stayed under just long enough to make them all worry. But just a little. A little angst is fun. Too much gives me a stomachache.


    ¡°Why would you think I wouldn¡¯t?¡± I ask, and Zack shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I mean, how long do you really want to put up with all of us?¡± He looks at me like he¡¯s certain I¡¯m not going to pick him, like our time together is short-lived.


    ¡°As long as I can?¡± I respond, and then I reach down and take his hand, pulling him toward the bedroom and closing the door behind us.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    I need to clean the kitchen, but that can wait until morning.


    Tonight, I¡¯m going to let Zack unzip my reindeer costume and slide it off of me first.


    When I wake upter, Charlie is still asleep, Zack is gone, and the k


    itchen is freaking spotless.

 277

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why I have to keep trying,¡± Creed drawls, gesturing loosely in my direction as he drapes his boneless body over one of the leather chairs in the library. ¡°I was already epted to the school. What do my grades matter now?¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest and give him my most severe look.


    ¡°First off, don¡¯t you have any pride in your academic work? And second, it does matter. The university will look at your grades for thest semester, and your ss ranking. Miranda already promised me you¡¯d be going to Bornstead. Don¡¯t disappoint me now, Cabot.¡±


    ¡°Oh, bossy, bossy, bossy,¡± he drawls, flinging one leg over the arm of the chair and looking out at me from under half-lidded eyes. His gaze sweeps me in my all-ck uniform, taking in every curve. When I sit down, on the other chair arm, my skirt rides up and Creed gets a little peek at my garters underneath. ¡°And just as sexy as you are authoritative.¡± His fingers dance across my upper thigh, snapping one of the straps against my pale flesh. I shiver, but I manage to stay firm.


    ¡°You need to study for this math test.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather study you,¡± Creed purrs, drawing me into hisp. His clean linen and soap smell is intoxicating, and I find my hands ying with the buttons on his shirt, even though I know I should be encouraging him to look at the rubric Miss Danebo handed out.


    ¡°Why? What is it you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Why do you like those boy-on-boyics so much? Do you have fantasies you haven¡¯t told me about?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯d love to see you topped by Tristan Vanderbilt, but that¡¯s not going to happen. What will happen if you don¡¯t study, is me going to college with your sister, and you going home to sleep a gap year away in the Hamptons.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d go without me?¡± he asks, sighing and sliding his fingers down the row of buttons on my top, popping a few of them wide. Thece of my navy, blue bra shows, and I suck in a sharp breath as Creed trails the edge of his fingernail along the scalloped edges. His ice-blue eyes flick up to mine with an exquisite sort of cruelty dancing in them. He knows how badly he¡¯s getting to me, and he loves it. I wiggle on hisp without meaning to, and Creed scowls at me. ¡°And you know from experience exactly what that sort of move does to my dick.¡±


    ¡°So damn crude,¡± I murmur, forcing myself to stand up and put some space between us. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯m going to end up doing things in the library that most definitely would end up on my permanent record if I were caught. ¡°But I like it,¡± I toss over my shoulder, sauntering off and enjoying Creed¡¯s groan of frustration as he forces himself up and follows after me.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± he asks as I head out the library doors, and down the stone hall.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not willing to study, I have other things to deal with today.¡± I reach into my pocket and pull out my modified list. Ileana doesn¡¯t seem to being back to Burberry, and not because of the whole, erm, popped boob thing. Pretty sure there¡¯s a rift between her and Becky that¡¯ll never be healed.Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep


    A list by Marnye Reed


    The Harpies: Harper du Pont, Becky tter, and Ileana Taittinger The Company: Abigail Fanning, Valentina Pitt, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen


    Donner, and Kiara Xiao


    The fucked-up foursome-Harper, Becky, Abigail, and Valentina-are proving the most difficult. I mean, just think about Abigail for example: Tristan destroyed her at the casino, I gave her boyfriend proof of her infidelity, and she found out Harper had been screwing Greg behind her back all along. And yet, she¡¯s still standing. It¡¯s not enough, not by a longshot.


    Of course, dethroning the girls from their Blueblood status was impressive, but it doesn¡¯t take the cake.


    For now, I¡¯ve moved onto easier targets: Mayleen Zhang in particr.


    She¡¯s always prided herself on her schoolwork, just like me and Tristan. In fact, she often ranks in the top five in the entire academy. And yet, I¡¯ve now got proof that she¡¯s been using what¡¯s called mosaic giarism to write a lot of her essays-including one she got an award forst year.


    Mosaic giarism is when a person uses a general story idea or structure and simply finds synonyms or alternative phrases for the author¡¯s original work while keeping the same meaning and structure of the piece they¡¯re stealing from.


    It¡¯s more difficult to prove than direct giarism-that is, straight up copying and pasting. But it can be done, and I¡¯m going to do it. Sorry, but there¡¯s one thing about usingmon themes or tropes in a piece of writing and another altogether to literally pattern a new work off an existing one.


    Fucking Mayleen is going down.


    ¡°You¡¯re up to something, aren¡¯t you? I can practically smell it.¡± Creed folds his arms together behind his head, watching me with curiosity and no small amount of glee. He loves the kill, just like all the rest of them do. ¡°May I ask who, exactly, you¡¯re focusing your eye of revenge on today?¡±


    ¡°Mayleen,¡± I say, knowing her parents are here to walk the campus with Mayleen¡¯s younger sister. Because of the previous issues with bullying here at the academy, they¡¯re strongly considering sending their youngest daughter to Coventry Prep. Principal Collins will be with them, too. This should work out nicely.


    ¡°Excellent. Another facelessckey bites the dust. When do we get the big names though? That¡¯s what I¡¯m looking forward to.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got Harper under control,¡± I say, realizing how ridiculous that sounds considering her recent attack on my college applications. ¡°Becky ¡­ I¡¯m not sure about.¡±


    ¡°I think Zayd is working on Becky. You know, he feels like Windsor let Ileana off the hook too easily. That, and I think he¡¯s jealous of the prince.¡±


    ¡°Zayd is?¡± I ask, ncing over at Creed. ¡°Zayd, the rock god is jealous?¡± Creed shrugs his shoulders, and I narrow my eyes. ¡°Just Zayd, huh? Nobody else.¡±


    ¡°No, definitely not,¡± he replies, raising his eyebrows and then smiling sweetly as we pass by Mrs. Collins. ¡°Good afternoon, Madam Principal.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Cabot,¡± she replies, looking askance at us with no small amount of suspicion. Can¡¯t say that I me her, considering Creed¡¯s track record.


    The Zhangs are pushing a stroller slowly down the path and discussing the merits of Burberry Prep with the principal. I pretend to drop a pen, duck down, and then stick the packet of papers in the storage area underneath, right next to the diaper bag. Seems a bit anticlimactic now that I¡¯m standing here, but I had to put hours of research into that, lining up the simrities between Mayleen¡¯s essays and all the ones she stole from.


    If she hadn¡¯t stolen from one of mine, I might never have known.


    I¡¯ve already slipped a man envelope with the same papers in Mrs.


    Collins employee mail slot.


    There¡¯s nothing Burberry Prep hates more than an academic scandal. Remember what almost happened to me? I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be taken care of discreetly.


    ¡°That was subtle, not like you at all,


    ¡± Creed says, as I look back over at him.

 278

    ¡°I¡¯m saving all the pomp and circumstance for the former queen of the Idols,¡± I say, exhaling and running my fingers through my hair. It¡¯s grown out so much. I¡¯m trying to decide if I want to cut it all off again, or if it¡¯s truly time to grow it out. I nce over at Creed, and notice that his eyes are sparkling. ¡°That, and I¡¯m just hoping I survive long enough to graduate.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    Creed and I both pause, looking over to find Harper holding her dark court in one of the gazebos. She nces over at us, sitting in thep of some big guy I don¡¯t recognize. I think he¡¯s a second year. She flips me off, and we continue walking together, curving back around to head toward the chapel doors.


    ¡°We¡¯re so close, Marnye,¡± Creed whispers, but even as I¡¯m excited to finally get out of here, to escape the mean girls, to start a new life at Bornstead U, I¡¯m dreading it, too. Because each day that passes, Charlie gets


    sicker. Each day that passes, I get closer to making a decision I don¡¯t want to make.


    Choose between the filthy rich boys.


    I¡¯d rather fight the Harpies for the rest of eternity.


    ¡°If you insist on teaching me math, I¡¯ll ept-provided, of course, you sit in myp while I learn. I study best that way, with a giant boner tucked into my cks.¡±


    I facepalm and shake my head, but his crudeness is refreshing somehow.


    It¡¯s better than a bouquet of lies, now isn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Come on, perv, and I¡¯ll teach you some forms.¡± I take his hand and pull him back into the building before the first few kes of winter snow start to fall.


    It feels good to be at school, studying like crazy and working to keep my grades up, so I can qualify for as many schrships as possible. That, you know, and also kick Tristan¡¯s ass and take top of the ss.


    Speaking of Tristan, we¡¯re supposed to be working on an economics project together, but he¡¯s been so damn cranky these past few weeks, I can barely get a word in before he stomps off. It¡¯s frustrating as hell, trying to work with someone who won¡¯t talk to me.


    Even more frustrating when I¡¯m trying to date that same, said person.


    I¡¯m sitting in The Mess with Zayd, watching surreptitiously as he pens lyrics on a napkin with a bright, red pen, when Isabe Carmichael walks in, dressed in the red skirt and ck zer of a first year. Shees right over to the high table and pauses beside me.


    ¡°Do you think we could have a moment?¡± she asks Zayd, batting hershes prettily and tucking a few errant strands of brown hair behind one ear. Zayd looks at me for confirmation, raising his pierced brow in question.


    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± I say, thinking about Dad¡¯s whispered words. ¡°I didn¡¯t know she was mine, or I would¡¯ve ¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have let Jennifer keep us


    apart.¡± Thinking about what he said, and about that bet Harper threw in my face, I feel sick to my stomach. ¡°Maybe just sit at a different table for a minute?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see how it is,¡± Zayd says, standing up and then pausing to turn back and grab my face, leveling me with a punishing kiss that makes me see stars. Isabe scowls at us as she tucks her skirt under her thighs and sits down, waiting until Zayd¡¯s moved several tables away before she turns to me and smiles.


    It¡¯s not a very pretty smile, I¡¯ll tell you that for sure.


    ¡°How¡¯s your boyfriend doing by the way? Or should I say ¡­ boyfriends? I mean I¡¯d heard from the Royals that you were called Working Girl for a reason, but I guess I didn¡¯t want to admit I¡¯d shared the same womb as a whore.¡±


    ¡°First off, your ¡®Royals¡¯ are nothing more than disced despots. Second, slut-shaming doesn¡¯t look good on anyone. Don¡¯t do it. It makes you look like a hypocritical asshole.¡± I lean in, putting my elbow on the edge of the table. ¡°Third ¡­ forget the Infinity Club, Isabe. There¡¯s nothing but trouble for you there.¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯d know. It¡¯s not as if you are or ever could be a member.¡± ¡°Windsor York has asked me to marry him. On more than one asion.


    Don¡¯t you think if I were to be a prince¡¯s bride and find myself suddenly swimming in billions that I¡¯d be weed with open arms?¡±


    ¡°So why don¡¯t you?¡± Isabe asks, mming her palm on the table and making the water sses quiver. She res at me with very familiar brown eyes, her mouth twisted into a pout. ¡°Why, when you could be so much more than this, do you insist on slogging through?¡±


    ¡°Marrying a prince will elevate my status in your eyes, but working my ass off to get into my first-choice university means nothing?¡± I ask, and Isabe scowls at me.


    ¡°We might share blood, but you¡¯re not my sister and never will be. Don¡¯t try that kill them with kindness crap with me. It doesn¡¯t work.¡± She lifts her chin and tosses her hair. ¡°I am nothing like you. I ¡­ am a Carmichael.¡±


    ¡°A simple DNA test would prove otherwise,¡± I tell her, and she stands up, nostrils ring.


    ¡°You know, I only came in here because I felt sorry for you.¡± She tosses her hair in a shiny wave. ¡°My friends and I were getting together for a study


    thing yesterday, and on our way past the girls¡¯ chapel bathroom, Sharon announced she had to pee. We all took a detour, and well. It¡¯s not looking good for you.¡±


    ¡°Just spit it out,¡± I murmur, leaning back in my chair and rubbing at my temple. Talking to Isabe makes me feel sick, like looking at a shattered illusion that¡¯s now be distorted in a funhouse mirror.


    ¡°Tristan was in there, you know. Him and that Lizzie girl.¡± My mind shes back to that moment when I found Tristan and Kiara in that same bathroom, and a wave of nausea sweeps over me. ¡°We walked in and found him fucking your friend. Doesn¡¯t that bother you?¡±


    ¡°Get out.¡± I rise to my feet and look her dead in the eye. ¡°This is my school, my dining hall. Leave.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but-¡± ¡°Out. Now.¡±


    Isabe smirks, and even though I know she¡¯s doing this to bait me ¡­ it¡¯s working. She rises to her feet, turns, and sashays her way out of The Mess, leaving bullshit and lies in her wake. Little sister, what the hell am I going to do with you?


    Her words stab through me like a knife, and I feel myself bleeding emotions all over the floor.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Zayd asks, hopping back up on the dais and leaning down to look into my face.


    It takes me several breaths to get control of myself, but I manage it. Just barely, but I do, looking up and into Zayd¡¯s beautiful eyes. Even if Tristan¡¯s chosen Lizzie, I¡¯ll be okay, won¡¯t I? I have Zack and Creed, Windsor and Zayd. It¡¯ll just make my choice twenty-percent easier, right?


    So why the fuck does it hurt so much?


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I tell him, taking his inked fingers and giving them a squeeze. It¡¯s just rumors and gossip, that¡¯s all that it is. Secrets like this are what caused so much damage with the former Bluebloods. Lies and bullshit.


    I can¡¯t take it seriously, not unless I talk to Tristan about it.


    ¡°You sure?¡± Zayd asks, kneeling down to look into my face. ¡°Because if I have to kick that little girl¡¯s ass to keep you happy, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°I know you would,¡± I say with augh, kicking out the chair Isabe was using and gesturing to it. ¡°N


    ow sit down, and let¡¯s talk Becky tter.¡±

 279

    Tristan is shoving binders back onto the library shelf in a fury. Clearly, he¡¯s upset about something, but I can¡¯t seem to figure out what it is.


    ¡°Are you angry with me?¡± I ask, trying and failing not to think about that moment in the library during first year when I reached up to grab that book without any panties on under my skirt ¡­


    ¡°What on earth gave you that idea?¡± he deadpans, shelving thest book and moving back over to the table to write a note on his tablet. He jams the stylus into the screen in a way that makes me cringe.


    ¡°You¡¯ve barely spoken to me in weeks. You sit next to Lizzie in The Mess every time we eat together, and ¡­¡± I pause, my eyes tearing up even though I don¡¯t want them to. I told myself I would let Tristan make his own choice. If he has then ¡­


    He stops and turns to look at me, silver eyes zing. There¡¯s fury in them that just barely reaches the surface. I can sense it, all of that anger boiling inside. He is really and truly angry with me, that much I know for sure now.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Do you really want to know, Charity?¡± he asks, getting that vicious twist in his voice that he used tosh out at me so much during first year. Tristan steps forward and ms his palms into the shelf on either side of me, breathing hard. His zer button is open, the two halves of his jacket hanging down as he stares at me from under a fall of shiny raven hair.


    ¡°Because the very fact that I have to tell you is what¡¯s pissing me off the most.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± I start, thinking of Isabe¡¯s words, those awful, nagging things trying to worm their way under my skin. ¡°We walked in and found him fucking your friend. Doesn¡¯t that bother you?¡± I¡¯m not going to fall for that shit though. I¡¯m not even going to bring it up unless Tristan does first. He wouldn¡¯t cheat on me with Lizzie. If he were going to choose, he¡¯d just say something ¡­ Like maybe he¡¯s about to say something right now? ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Tristan closes his eyes, but he¡¯s still panting, fingers curled around the edges of the shelves behind me. I reach up and put a hand over his chest, closing my own eyes and feeling the frantic beating of his heart.


    A small squeak escapes me when Tristan¡¯s hand whips down and grabs my wrist, almost too tight.


    Our eyes both open and I find myself getting lost in the brilliance of his de-gray gaze. It¡¯s a double-edged sword, that¡¯s for sure. He can defend me with it ¡­ but he can also cut me if he wants, make me bleed. And boy, would I bleed for this man.


    ¡°What do you think about me and Lizzie?¡± Tristan asks carefully, his voice like velvet, his smell like cinnamon. His warmth transcends the distance between us, making me shiver.


    ¡°What do ¡­¡± I start, thinking about the way he used to look at her, like she was his long-lost love who¡¯d galloped away on a different knight¡¯s horse. But ¡­ that was the way he used to look at her, right? I try to think of thest time I saw his gaze soften in her direction. It¡¯s been awhile, that¡¯s for sure. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to get with her? Do you ship me and Lizzie for some reason? Because I swear to God, it feels like you do sometimes.¡± He stares at me so hard that I feel like all my inhibitions are being shed like a banana peel, stripping right down and leaving my pale yellow flesh quivering. Whoa. That was a totally weird metaphor. Scratch that. Pretend I never said anything at all.


    ¡°Why would you think that?¡± I whisper as Tristan breathes in and out, big, harsh, angry breaths. He presses in even closer to me, and I feel myselfing apart at the seams.


    ¡°Look, I hate Zack as much as the next asshole, but what you said to him, about how you wanted him to fight for you ¡­ do you ever take your own advice, Marnye?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­¡± My throat feels too tight to talk, like it¡¯s impossible to breathe in without sharing a breath with Tristan, without getting two lungfuls of his beautiful scent. He¡¯s enticing, a little dangerous, exactly the sort of man I should stay away from. And at the same time ¡­ when I think about going to the same college as him, studying together, building a new life together ¡­ I get the chills in the best possible way. ¡°We could really have something, me and you.¡±


    Tristan growls at me. I kid you not. He seriously growls under his breath and clenches his teeth.


    ¡°Right. So why are you so pro-Lizzie?¡± he demands, and I blink back in confusion. ¡°And why do you smell so damn good?¡± he adds, almost under his breath, ncing to the side for a moment before looking back at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not pro-Lizzie,¡± I tell him, and there it is. All these feelingse rushing to the surface, and I can¡¯t seem to hold them back. ¡°I¡¯ve ¡­ I wanted to be friends with her. And I felt selfish. She loves you so much, and I¡¯m dating five guys, and ¡­¡±


    ¡°So fucking what?¡± Tristan ms his palm against the bookshelf, still clinging to my wrist with his other hand. ¡°You¡¯re dating five guys because we all refuse to let you go. What does that have to do with Lizzie? You want to trade me like a baseball card, so she doesn¡¯t feel left out?¡±


    My jaw drops open and Tristan takes that moment to sweep in and kiss me. Hard. His lush mouth against my parted lips. His tongue dives in, takingplete control, encouraging me to tilt my head back and give into him. He¡¯s the cruelest boy I know. He really is. He¡¯ll never be perfect. He¡¯ll never even be good. But maybe ¡­ h


    e¡¯s just right for me?

 280

    I move my free hand to the side of his face, and he grabs my wrist again, pinning me to the bookcase. One of these days, I¡¯m going to be up to no good in this library, and I¡¯m going to get caught. My cheeks me with embarrassment, but that color soon darkens to the heat of lust when Tristan bites my lower lip.


    He pulls back just a bit and looks me hard in the face, still panting. He¡¯s so strong, I¡¯mpletely trapped there, my arms out on either side, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.


    ¡°I just wanted you to choose me,¡± I whisper, and I see his silver gaze move from my mouth back up to my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s all. I was just ¡­ waiting to see if you¡¯d pick me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I was waiting for the same?¡± he whispers, and I close my eyes. Tristan makes a frustrated sound, and I open them back up. He releases me suddenly and steps back, pushing his hair from his forehead with the heel of his hand. ¡°Fucking hell, Marnye.¡±


    I bring my arms in close to my chest, trying to work the numb feeling out of my fingers as Tristan nces back at me, his face full of shadows.


    ¡°You were waiting for me ¡­¡± I start as he looks up at the tin ceiling tiles above us.


    ¡°I was waiting for you to fight for me,¡± he says, turning back to look at me, his gaze shed through with violent heat that seems to ripple in the air between us. ¡°What¡¯s that old saying? Don¡¯t be so sweet that people will eat you up, and don¡¯t be so bitter they spit you out?¡± He pauses and exhales. ¡°Sometimes I think you¡¯re too sweet. But then I wonder if it¡¯s my job to be your bitter.¡±


    He turns like he¡¯s about to walk away, and I take off after him, grabbing


    onto his arm and holding him there.


    ¡°This is a habit of yours,¡± I whisper, putting my face against the crisp sleeve of his zer. ¡°Spouting some epic shit, and then taking off. You can¡¯t do this to me anymore.¡±


    Tristan turns around, and we¡¯re suddenly standing so close that I can¡¯t breathe.


    ¡°I¡¯m no good for you,¡± he says, but his voice holds so much less vitriol than it did before, like he can¡¯t keep up the facade any longer. ¡°You really would be best off heading for college and leaving us all behind.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± I ask, lifting my face up to look into his beautiful eyes. They seem so much lighter now. Like, instead of a stormy sky, his irises are the color of a freshly polished silver teapot.


    ¡°I might be cruel, but I¡¯m selfish, too. I want you too much to let you go.¡± Tristan puts his hands on my hips, and I feel my body start to quiver. The tension between us is making me sick. ¡°It kills me to know they¡¯ve all touched you, that they¡¯ve all been inside of you ¡­¡± His voice softens, but seems to get darker at the same time, like velvet shadows wrapping me up in a cocoon. ¡°Every crush of yours but me ¡­¡±Content is property of N?velDrama.Org.


    I swallow hard as Tristan guides me back to the bookshelf behind us, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the fluttering pulse in my throat. My eyes close and my fingers curl around the edges of his zer. He runs his tongue down the side of my neck, leaving a hot fire in his wake.


    ¡°We could go back to your room?¡± I whisper, and I feel this crazy overwhelming surge of adrenaline, so powerful that I¡¯m not sure I can stand for much longer.


    ¡°I won¡¯t make it back to my room,¡± he breathes, putting his mouth next to my ear. I look up, past the towering bookcases to the ancient chandelier flickering in the rafters. I know all about that chandelier, where it was made and when and out of what materials because, well, I¡¯m a history buff and architecture freak, but ¡­ in that moment?


    I couldn¡¯t give a fuck less.


    Tristan¡¯s right hand slides down and then slips underneath the pleated ck folds of my skirt. He runs his palm up my thigh, but unlike Creed, he¡¯s much less polite. His fingers tease the waistband of my panties before he drops them down and cups my core in his hand.


    A sharp gasp escapes me, and Tristan chuckles, this warm, velvety sound


    that prates my darkest depths.


    ¡°Shush, or someone will hear us,¡± he whispers, leaning in and searing my lips with his. Our tongues tangle, and I find that I can¡¯t breathe without pulling his essence into me.


    ¡°Hear what?¡± I whisper back, still shaking. ¡°What exactly are we doing here?¡±


    ¡°You know exactly what we¡¯re doing,¡± Tristan tells me, and then his hand slips into my panties and his fingers dance over my wetness, making my knees buckle. He just barely manages to catch me with an arm around the waist, licking and nipping at my lower lip as his fingers work my already aching body into a frenzy.


    He clearly knows what he¡¯s doing. Jealousy res hot inside of me as I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him back hard enough to make him cringe slightly.


    ¡°Oh no, did I nick you?¡± I ask, and Tristan draws back just enough to give me this awful, awful little cocksure smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about, Marnye. Show me some teeth.¡± Tristan removes his hand from under my skirt, and I can¡¯t decide if I want to kill him


    or if I¡¯m grateful for the reprieve. Pretty sure I was just about to ¡­ ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He takes me by the wrist, leaving our stuff allid out across the table. On our way across the massive expanse of the library, we run into Creed,zily dragging himself across the room with his hands tucked into his pockets, ice- colored eyes ha


    lf-lidded and bored senseless.

 281

    When he sees us, he opens them wide and his jaw drops. ¡°Watch our stuff, Cabot. Keep the Harpy ws off of it.¡±Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Are you serious?!¡± Creed shouts as we move past him, and I can hear him cursing under his breath as he watches us slip into the beautiful old bathroom with the vintage hexagon and subway tiles.


    Tristan heels the door shut behind him and locks it while I stand there wondering if maybe I¡¯ve lost my mind.


    ¡°What are we doing in here, Tristan?¡± I ask as he grabs me and sets me on the edge of the counter, leaning in so he can run his tongue across my lower lip.


    ¡°Satisfying your curiosity,¡± he whispers, and I raise an eyebrow.


    ¡°My curiosity?¡± I ask as he slides one hand down the curve of my waist, over my hip, and under my skirt. His second hand joins the first, and I realize I¡¯m about to lose my underwear.


    He smirks at me and then drops his hands to the garters holding my socks up, popping the clips and making me groan as he rubs his thumbs against my inner thighs. Each touch is like fire; each touch burns.


    ¡°Stop torturing me.¡±


    ¡°Why should I? That¡¯s my MO, right? I¡¯m the big, bad bully.¡± Tristan pulls my panties down and over my socks and shoes, tucking them into his zer pocket. He slides his palms up my thighs and cups my ass, making me groan. ¡°I¡¯m going to torture you mercilessly, and I¡¯m going to love every second of it. Just know that.¡±


    He tugs me forward, so that I¡¯m more or less wrapped around him, and then drops his hand between us, slicking his fingers against my aching body. Our eyes lock, and I can see his confidence, his need for control, just before he slips one in, and I gasp.


    ¡°Oh shit, Marnye,¡± he groans, licking his lips. ¡°You feel even better than I thought.¡±


    ¡°You thought about it?¡± I whisper, and the way he smiles at me ¡­ I can see that he¡¯s thought about it quite a bit. Our mouths meet, and this time, the kiss is much more tender than it was before, less of a violent iming and more of a careful wanting. A tentative need. An unsatisfied desire.


    Tristan works me so expertly that I can barely move, my hands trembling as I try to undo the button on his cks. He pushes my fumbling attempt aside and undoes his fly one-handed, like a total boss, guiding my fingers in to wrap around him.


    We¡¯re just staring at each other now, and it should be embarrassing, but somehow ¡­ it¡¯s not. It¡¯s everything I wanted and then some.


    There¡¯s a knock at the door, and we both ignore it.


    ¡°They can piss somewhere else,¡± he growls, kissing me again. The heat between us amps up, and I feel myself giving in finally, losing everything I am and everything I have to Tristan Vanderbilt.


    I knew it. I knew it from the very first second that he would rearrange me as a human being. How, why, I¡¯m not sure. There¡¯s just something between us, this indefinable spark that res so bright it burns, scalds, and scars.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a condom,¡± Tristan whispers, and something clicks in me. He


    isn¡¯t carrying condoms around because he¡¯s not sleeping with other girls. And he isn¡¯t carrying them around because he¡¯s not scheming or trying to get with me. For maybe the first time in his life, he¡¯s not nning anything at all.


    ¡°I ¡­¡± I start, breathing hard, squeezing my hand around his shaft. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your results, and I started birth control this summer, so ¡­¡± There¡¯s a long stretch of silence before I look back at him, and his mouth curves into the sharpest, most wicked of smiles.


    ¡°Excellent.¡±


    Tristan encourages me to stroke and tease him, working up this wild tension between us into a frenzy. He removes his fingers from inside of me, and disrobes me with expert precision, baring my breasts and leaving my ck jacket and zer hanging off my shoulders, the ck silk of the tie falling between them.


    ¡°Stand up and turn around,¡± hemands, and I gape at him. He cocks one, perfect dark brow. ¡°Well, my naughty little schoolgirl, what are you waiting for?¡± Tristan pulls me off the counter and spins me around, pushing me over so that my palms are on the tiled surface and our faces are reflected


    back at me in the mirror. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be doing this ¡­¡± he whispers, almost to himself. ¡°But I can¡¯t stop myself. I need to be inside of you, Marnye.¡±


    He grabs my hip with his right hand, positions himself with his left, and then looks up at the mirror to meet my gaze dead-on.


    Tristan thrusts inside of me, deep and hard, making my back curl with pleasure, my fingertips dig into the counter. He rocks me back and forth, my breasts swaying gently with the motion. I can see the pleasure my body brings him written all over his face.


    He feels so warm inside of me, I think, loving that he¡¯s bare and naked inside my heated core. His fingers keep my skirt pushed up and out of the way, ck pleats all bunched together. The tie swings with our motions as well, my zer hanging loosely on my back, the red and ck Burberry Prep crest just barely visible in the reflection.


    Tristan fucks me into the counter, and then spills himself inside of me, this hot burst that runs down my legs after. I¡¯m so not used to it that I just stand there after he pulls out, and he chuckles.


    ¡°Marnye, you sweet-sweet thing.¡± He makes me sit on the toilet until most of the um, liquid is gone and wiped away, kneeling down in front of me and reaching up to palm the heavy weight of my bare breast. ¡°I¡¯m nowhere near done with you,¡± he whispers, pulling me down to the floor and climbing on top of me. His fingers find their way inside my heat, his thumb easing over my clit. He kisses and sucks at my neck, leaving hickeys that feel too good for me to worry about what they might look liketer.


    ¡°I love you, Marnye Reed,¡± he whispers in my ear, just as my climax hits like a wave and shatters me to p


    ieces, body, heart, and soul.

 282

    Tristan opens the bathroom door and steps out, letting it close behind him while he scouts around to make sure the coast is clear. Of course, it isn¡¯t even remotely clear.


    Lizzie Walton is waiting.


    As soon as I hear her voice, I pause, leaning my ear against the door. ¡°You¡¯ve been in there for quite a while, Tristan,¡± she says, her voice thick


    with hurt and frustration.


    ¡°So what? Do you monitor how long I go to the bathroom for? Is there a time limit on the act?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that. Don¡¯t get angry with me because you don¡¯t know how else to act. We know each other too well to y those sorts of games.¡± Lizzie pauses. ¡°Marnye, you cane out now.¡±


    Crap. Crap, crap, crap.


    I¡¯m sweaty, and shaky, and honestly I¡¯m ready to go back to my room and scream into a pillow. There are so many emotions running through me; I need time to process them all.


    Thest thing I want to do is face Lizzie Walton.


    But she knows I¡¯m here, so I step out into the quiet hush of the library, the soft murmur of voices, and the scratch of old pages being turned.


    Lizzie is looking right at me with her amber eyes, her mouth in a t line, her expression unreadable.


    I don¡¯t know what to say to her. Is there anything I can say really?


    Anything that¡¯ll make it better that is?


    ¡°You two ¡­¡± Lizzie starts, but Tristan steps partially in front of me and cuts her off.


    ¡°What we were doing in there is none of your business, Lizzie,¡± he says, and the way he looks at her, I can tell he¡¯s sorry, too. He cares about her, but in the same way he cares about Creed. As a friend. That¡¯s it. When he looks back at me, there¡¯s a brightness in his eyes that makes me catch my breath.


    He turns back to Lizzie again, and I remember his words from before. ¡°I was waiting for you to fight for me.¡±


    I step forward and curl my arm around Tristan¡¯s.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lizzie,¡± I tell her, feeling one of the tight knots in my stomache undone ¡­ and another one reform. ¡°I wanted Tristan to choose between us so badly that I didn¡¯t think about asserting myself as much as I should have. I-¡±


    ¡°I love him,¡± she says, her eyes filling with fat tears that roll down her cheeks andnd on the ck chest of her uniform. ¡°I love him enough to choose him and only him. So what about you, Marnye? Is Tristan your choice then?¡±


    A re of fear shoots through me, lighting me up on the inside. Do I choose Tristan? Have I chosen him? But ¡­ I can¡¯t choose. Not yet. Just the idea of it makes me sick. It¡¯s only January; I still have months left to make that decision.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pressure her,¡± Creed drawls, appearing from the sea of books with my bag and Tristan¡¯s both thrown over his shoulder. He saunters out and pauses beside us. If I didn¡¯t know him as well as I do, I might not notice the way his fist clenches around the strap of the bag, or how his ice-blue eyes are dark with jealousy. ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to make that decision now.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Lizzie asks, looking between Creed and Tristan. ¡°It doesn¡¯t bother you that she refuses to pick a guy? Not at all? Because that¡¯s all I ever wanted: for Tristan to pick me.¡± Tristan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his handkerchief, but Lizzie doesn¡¯t ept it. Instead, she backs up even further.


    ¡°Different things make different people happy,¡± Creed says,ing to stand beside Tristan. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten everything I¡¯ve ever wanted, my entire life, just as I¡¯ve wanted it. For once, there¡¯s a what-if. That¡¯s enough for me.¡±


    ¡°This is bullshit,¡± Lizzie murmurs, running her fingers through her hair. ¡°This is ¡­ I can¡¯t believe this is happening.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this,¡± Tristan tells her, but when he moves forward, she moves back again.


    ¡°I came to Burberry Prep for you, left all my friends behind. I ¡­¡± she starts, and then stops, turning on her heel and taking off through the library. One of the librarians yells at her to stop running, but Lizzie ignores her, disappearing from view.


    Crap.


    I squeeze Tristan¡¯s arm hard, and he nces down at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t regret my choice,¡± he says, exhaling and ncing over at Creed with a brief scowl. ¡°Take your time; I don¡¯t want you to regret yours.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Creed drawls, but Tristan ignores him, tugging me along by the hand. Creed sighs, but lets us go.


    Surprisingly, Tristan takes me back to his dorm, sets me up with fluffy towels, and a shower, and by the time I get out, he¡¯s brought some pajamas and clothes up from my room.


    ¡°You better not have nted a camera in my dorm,¡± I whisper as I towel-


    dry my hair, a ck robe wrapped around me. Pretty sure it¡¯s Tristan¡¯s. Just wearing it gives me a little thrill.


    He¡¯s sitting on his couch, silhouetted against a long window with a view of nothing but the moon, stars, and the distant rolling hills. He¡¯s got a ss of alcohol in one hand, and he looks so much older than eighteen. But in a good way. Like, I can see the sort of man he¡¯ll turn out to be in a decade or two.


    ¡°Not a chance,¡± he says, sipping his drink as Ie over and sit on the opposite end of the couch, perching myself on the arm. ¡°And just so you know: I wasn¡¯t aware we were being filmed in the library. That wasn¡¯t a game; it was a moment of weakness.¡±


    I pause for a moment, putting the towel in myp.


    ¡°I knew that. As soon as I saw your face, I knew.¡± I look down at the floor, my mind briefly wandering back to that moment, my greatest humiliation. ¡°They could be ying the long game, you know.¡± Harper¡¯s words poke and prod at the edges of my mind, but I refuse to let them in. I won¡¯t let myself believe that. Doubt is truly a harsh enemy.


    Tristan doesn¡¯t say anything, and we sit there in silence for a while. I nce shyly over at him, wet tendrils of hair hanging in my face. We just had sex! a small voice in the back of my mind calls out, and I have to resist the urge to do a girly dance of excitement, maybe squeal a little.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Later.


    I¡¯ll do thatter.


    Right now, there¡¯s this quiet peace between me and Tristan, and I¡¯m loving it too much to disrupt it.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be here this year,¡± he continues, tapping his fingers against the edge of his ss. ¡°That¡¯s why I tried so hardst year to get first in our ss. I wanted to make sure I could get into a good college when the time came, considering I was destined to spend my year at some military academy, or maybe even a public school.¡±


    ¡°God forbid,¡± I joke, but I can tell he¡¯s serious about it. He nned for everything, made sure I was set up to be taken care of, and tried to secure his own future at the same time. ¡°But I¡¯m d you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Windsor must really care about you, to put up with me,¡± Tristan says, looking over at me, his silver eyes a dark charcoal color in the shadows. The only light on currently is the small one in the kitchen. It¡¯s barely enough to see by.


    ¡°He must,¡± I whisper, curling my hand around the front of the robe. Wind knew that if he didn¡¯t pay Tristan¡¯s tuition, he¡¯d be gone and out of my life, and yet he did it anyway. Why? My heartbeat starts to pick up, and I feel overwhelmed with emotion suddenly. ¡°What would¡¯ve happened if he didn¡¯t pay your Infinity Club dues?¡± I ask, ncing over at Tristan again.


    His face darkens and he takes another sip of his drink.


    ¡°Considering the things I know?¡± he asks, turning to look at me. ¡°They¡¯d probably try to drown me, too.¡± Tristan stands up and puts his ss on the edge of the kitchen ind, turning to face me as he leans up against it. I consider asking him how many girls he¡¯s slept with, the same way I did with Zack. But I have the idea that maybe I don¡¯t want to know. I¡¯m guessing his number isn¡¯t five. ¡°Do you want to sleep here? Or would you rather I walked you back to your room?¡±


    I only have to think on that for a split-second. ¡°I¡¯d like to spend the night, if that¡¯s okay.¡±


    Tristan smiles at me then. A real smile. Not one of his cocksure smirks, or wicked scowls, or anything of the sort. No, this is well and truly genuine.


    ¡°If that¡¯s okay ¡­ Jesus, Marnye. Far too sweet. You¡¯re gonna give me a fucking cavity.¡± Tristan moves over to stand beside me, holding out a hand to help me up. He leads me into his room and watches as I crawl into his sumptuous silken sheets. They feel so good on my legs that I end up stretching and rolling around like a total weirdo.


    Tristan crawls in beside me and pulls me up close against him, spooning our bodies together. His breathing is soft, and his body loose and rxed. It¡¯s the most normal I¡¯ve ever seen him.


    ¡°How old were you when you lost your virginity?¡± I whisper into the darkness, feeling that special secret sharing sensation that only seems to happen during sleepovers.


    ¡°Thirteen,¡± he says, and my eyes go wide. Holy crap. And I¡¯d thought Jennifer was young at fourteen. That¡¯s insane. ¡°It wasn¡¯t all that pleasant. Don¡¯t be jealous. I just did it to get back at my dad.¡±


    ¡°Has he always hurt you?¡± I¡¯m not entirely sure I want to know the answer to that question, but I feel like I should know it.


    ¡°Always,¡± Tristan whispers, pulling me even closer, so close that it¡¯s hard for me to tell where I end and he begins. ¡°I never knew my mother. I still don¡¯t know who she is. All I know is that she sold me to my father for a price, and left. Money is all that I know. Even I have a price, Marnye. The only person I know who doesn¡¯t seem to ¡­ is you.¡±


    My eyes close, and I curl my hand over his, pressing into him as hard as I can until I hear his breathing e


    ven out. Only then do I allow myself the luxury of sleep.

 283

    ¡°There¡¯s so much gossip going around!¡± Miranda whispers, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me toward our third period civics and economics ss. ¡°Briana told Jessie who told Andrew who told me that you and Tristan were seen sneaking into the library bathroom together ¡­¡±


    ¡°Creed didn¡¯t say anything?¡± I ask, and Miranda gives me the weirdest look ever.


    ¡°Why would Creed say anything? He would totally freak if he knew you were banging Tristan.¡±


    ¡°Would I?¡± Creed asks, appearing from around the corner and surprising both me and Miranda so much that we scream. His smile is allzy, cavalier arrogance. ¡°You¡¯re a crappy twin. First, you get a crush on my crush. Second, you tell the whole school I¡¯m a virgin. And third, youpletely and utterly mis-predict my reaction to an inevitable event.¡±


    ¡°Um, excuse you, but I saw Marnye first.¡± Miranda ticks up a single finger, painted with bright orange polish. ¡°You quite literally turned your nose up at her, I¡¯ll have you recall. Second, I only told Marnye that you were a virgin. I have no idea how your stupid friends found out. And third, you knew about this and didn¡¯t tell me?!¡± Miranda punches her brother in the shoulder hard enough to make him scowl, and I smile.


    ¡°What business is it of yours?¡± Creed growls back at her, and she punches him again. He lets her, his only retaliation a roll of his crystal blue eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m the best friend. And I¡¯m the number one supporter of #TeamCreed. I have a right to know these things.¡± Miranda turns to look at me, and this awkward silence falls between the three of us. There are people streaming past us, but we may as well be in our own little bubble. ¡°Well?¡± Miranda asks, and I blink in confusion, cheeks heating. Please don¡¯t let this be going where I think it¡¯s going ¡­


    ¡°Well, how was it?¡± the twins ask in unison, and my pink cheeks turn scarlet red.


    ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°It was mind-blowing,¡± Tristan says, appearing beside me, his voicepletely deadpan. He narrows his eyes on Creed, and the blond boy scowls. ¡°So good that she slept over.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Creed asks, but I¡¯m already elbowing Tristan in the stomach. He catches my arm and pulls me close, giving those butterflies a very real and prudent reason to swarm.


    That¡¯s when I see Lizzie at the end of the hall, opening her locker and pretending not to notice us all standing there.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I try to imagine what it¡¯d be like to be in her shoes, and extricate myself


    from Tristan to walk over there. I can hear Miranda asking Creed what¡¯s going on as I move down the hall and pause on her right side.


    ¡°Can we talk?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to talk about,¡± Lizzie says, mming her locker and then turning to look at me. Her amber eyes are dark with pain. ¡°Just so you know, during the Infinity Club meeting, several of the senior members expressed their desire to see you taught a lesson.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I ask as I hear Tristan call out Lizzie¡¯s name in a sharp, angry tone. He makes his way toward me, but the damage is already being done.


    ¡°They don¡¯t want to see one of the ny-nine percent take them down like this. There¡¯s a fine line to keep the sses in order, and they want you either put back in yours, or ¡­¡± Lizzie pauses as Tristanes up on my right, Creed on my left with Miranda just behind him. ¡°She should know, don¡¯t you think?¡± She nces up at Tristan, eyes narrowed, breathinging in sharp pants. ¡°They¡¯re beyond just trying to make you kill yourself. They are going to kill you, Marnye.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I choke, blinking in surprise. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean the senior Infinity Club members want you dead. Period. They don¡¯t care how or why.¡± Lizzie ms her locker shut as Tristan grits his teeth in her direction. They stare at each other for a long, long moment. ¡°They want you dead. All we did at thatst meeting was maneuver things around, so that the only people who can touch you are the students at this school.¡±


    ¡°You just broke a bet,¡± Tristan snaps as Lizzie starts off down the hall, dark ponytail bobbing. She turns around, herptop and a huge hardcover textbook tucked in her arms, and purses her lips.


    ¡°Yeah, well, so did you.¡±


    And then she spins away and disappears down the hall. I don¡¯t see hide nor hair of her for weeks.


    ¡°They want you dead.¡±


    Lizzie¡¯s words ring in my head, but I can¡¯t seem to nail down one of the guys to get them to tell me why. Why me? What the hell have I done that¡¯s so wrong?


    ¡°Zayd Kaiser,¡± I snap, putting my hands on my hips and pausing in front of him. He¡¯s situated on the edge of the fountain in the front courtyard, lifting his shades up to look at me. We¡¯ve got a week until Valentine¡¯s Day, and I¡¯m stumped on how to handle it with all five boys. Last year, Zack and I


    ¡­ Well, you know what Zack and I did. This year, I want to spend the day with everyone.


    ¡°Marnye Reed, long-time no see,¡± he says, as if he didn¡¯t spend the night in my dormst night. I haven¡¯t told the guys this, but I¡¯ve been putting their names in a hat and drawing one for every day of the week. The two remaining days I leave as a group day and a personal day. I only let the guys sleep over-or sleep over in their rooms-on the scheduled days.


    It¡¯s not a perfect system, but it¡¯s working. That, and it manages to take theplicated real-lifeplexity of an alternative rtionship and make it fit on paper, which I appreciate.


    Zayd pats hisp like that¡¯s the most logical ce in the world for me to sit. I ignore him and sit beside him instead, trailing my fingers in


    the water and giving him a look.

 284

    Last night, when I tried to ask about the Infinity Club, he started kissing my neck and I forgot my own name.


    Today, he¡¯s not going to be so lucky.


    ¡°You know, the boys and I were just discussing details for the tour this summer.¡± He lifts his phone up and wiggles it around. Ah, Saturday and the return of technology to the campus. It gets so quiet on weekends. That is, when people aren¡¯t partying like crazy. ¡°We sort of set it up, so that we go between here and Colorado. Keep it short, sweet, simple, and end with me sliding into your bed at Bornstead.¡±


    I just look at him then, dressed in tight ck jeans and boots, his shirt short-sleeved and covered in pins, and I try to imagine the type of life we could have together if I picked him. I¡¯m so straitced, and he¡¯s so ¡­ not. But I wonder sometimes if Tristan and I would be at each other¡¯s throats after a time, we¡¯re so damn simr.


    Maybe Zayd could tour with his band, and I could teach seminars around the world or something ¡­ I¡¯d spend all day working in a strict academic setting, and then he¡¯de back all sweaty and covered in ink and charged up from his performance and we¡¯d-


    ¡°Marnye?¡± he asks, waving an inked hand in front of my face. ¡°Whoa, beautiful, where did you go just now?¡±


    I shake my head, and sweep my hands up to push some random loose tendrils of hair from my face.


    ¡°I want to know how Lizzie broke a bet, why she¡¯s not like, dead or something, and why she said Tristan just did the same. I think I also deserve to know if people are trying to fucking kill me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ fuck, okay.¡± Zayd ruffles up his sea green hair with his fingers, and then nces out at the road like he¡¯s waiting for someone. The bell towers above us ring, and birds scatter in the wind like leaves. ¡°We tried, we really did. We ¡­ that¡¯s all we did that week is try to fix things, so that Harper and the senior Infinity Club members would leave you alone. We failed at that, Marnye.¡± I remember Windsor¡¯s face when he showed up at Dad¡¯s house that day, all drawn and tired. ¡°We tried. But we¡¯re junior members, so ¡­¡± He trails off and looks up at the sky, leaning back, the cluster of nes around his throat jangling. Absently, he reaches up with


    his left hand and ys with them. I notice some are badges from past concerts. One has a lipstick stain on it that makes my eyes narrow to slits. ¡°The deal is, nobody can touch you unless they¡¯ve attended the academy with you. Period. No hired hitmen or special police forces-¡±


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding?! Hired hitmen?¡± Zayd turns his head slightly to the side to look at me, like he can¡¯t figure out why I¡¯m so surprised by that.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. Does that really surprise you? Most people have a price, and for the right amount, sure, they could get some crazy ex-ck Ops guy to shoot you. It¡¯s not even that far-fetched.¡±


    ¡°Even I have a price, Marnye. The only person I know who doesn¡¯t seem to ¡­ is you.¡±


    I hear Tristan¡¯s words echoing in my head like a warning and close my eyes.


    ¡°The Club takes real world shit, like economies or wars or political races, and turns it into something bite-sized and manageable. It¡¯s like, aristocrats in a royal court ying at politics. The whole world runs on careful, behind- the-scenes maneuvering.¡± Zayd turns toward me and folds his legs on the edge of the fountain wall, putting his hands on his knees. ¡°You¡¯re the working ss pawn, Marnye, risen up and fighting through the ranks. You¡¯re taking out students whose families have been going to Burberry for generations.¡± Zayd gestures with his chin in the direction of the chapel building. ¡°If their kids can¡¯t take out one, lone schrship kid, then what hope do they have for haggling with billionaires from China, or arranging trade deals with India.¡±


    ¡°So they¡¯re going to kill me?¡± I ask, because it¡¯s just too freaking surreal to believe.


    ¡°They haven¡¯t made a move yet which scares me,¡± Zayd says, looking back out at the road. ¡°But they will. Sometime before the end of the year, I know they will.¡± He turns to me again. ¡°The deal is that they have until midnight of graduation day to kill you. That¡¯s it. After that, we take the crown. If we win, the Infinity Club can never interfere with your life again, or the lives of those around you.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯d all be safe, too?¡± I ask, and Zayd smiles, almost sadly, his lip rings catching the glint of the sun.


    ¡°Whoever you pick, anyway. The lucky guy.¡± He spins one of his lip rings around with his tongue. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to sound like a total ass, but ¡­ pleaseProperty ? N?velDrama.Org.


    pick me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± My cheeks flush as Zayd looks me in the eyes, his green ones swimming with so much color, like jade stones flecked with lime and emerald. There¡¯s so much variation in that single color, if I were a painter, I¡¯d want to recreate his irises on a canvas. Yep, I¡¯m doing it. Waxing poetic again.


    ¡°Or have you already decided?¡± he sneers slightly, and I can see that mean boy bullying through in him. ¡°It¡¯s Tristan, isn¡¯t it? Fuck, I knew as soon as I heard you guys banged in the library. Jesus.¡± Zayd curls his fingers in his hair, and I reach out to grab his hand, pulling it away.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided. I ¡­ I know you guys are probably desperate for me to make up my mind, but give me until graduation day. If I¡¯m not dead by midnight, then I¡¯ll ¡­ make a choice.¡± It¡¯s meant to be dark humor, but like Charlie¡¯s attempt, it j


    ust sort of falls t.

 285

    ¡°You picked me once,¡± Zayd whispers, and the yearning in his voice makes my heart ache. ¡°Do it for me one more time.¡± He points at the Never Again tattoo on the side of his neck. ¡°I¡¯ll never hurt you again. You¡¯ll be my little rock princess.¡± He pauses, nibbles at his lower lip. ¡°No, you¡¯ll be my rock goddess. We¡¯ll travel the world together, and we¡¯ll fuck in every country at least once.¡± My mouth curves into a smile, and I feel tears prick at the edges of my eyes. I¡¯m not sure why. They¡¯re just there, and I can¡¯t stop them. ¡°We have chemistry like nobody¡¯s business. Stay friends with the other guys, I don¡¯t care, but nobody can fuck like me and you.¡±


    ¡°You have a point,¡± I whisper as Zayd sighs and exhales, like he¡¯s pushing aside his emotions for the time being. We both go quiet, listening to the wind whistle between the towers. ¡°What bet did Lizzie break?¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t supposed to tell you about the deal. None of us were. But it¡¯s


    ¡­ as long as we¡¯re the only ones who know she broke it, and that I¡¯m breaking it again now, it¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the consequence?¡± I ask, and Zayd picks up a handful of pennies from the fountain, sorting through them and looking at the years before he tosses them all back in, and then goes for his wallet. Of course the rich dickhead doesn¡¯t have pennies on him, so he gives us each a quarter to throw.


    ¡°The consequence is that the no long-range weapons use is removed. Like, Creed climbed behind the wheel of a car and raced on a track for that.


    He almost flipped it and died.¡± Zayd looks back at me, and then squeezes his quarter, tossing it into the water with a ssh. I wonder if his wish has something to do with me? ¡°The Harpies and the Company, they can¡¯t use guns or crossbows or anything like that on you. At all. Trust me, if they could you¡¯d probably already be dead. Lizzie could¡¯ve fucked us by telling you that.¡±


    Shit.


    So she really was mean girling me, wasn¡¯t she?


    On another note ¡­ guns and crossbows?! What the actual fuck? ¡°And Tristan?¡± I ask trying to stay calm here. Zayd smiles softly.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t supposed to sleep with you, not until we graduated. I think Lizzie was trying to give herself a fighting chance she never had. Tristan¡¯s been in love with you since he firstid eyes on you, the very first day of first fucking year.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± I snort and Zayd lifts his head up to look at me, brows raised. ¡°Is it? Because he told me when he saw you, that he felt like his entire life


    was being rearranged inside his chest. I think it¡¯s why he hated you so much, tobat the other emotions.¡± I say nothing, but my throat feels tight again, and I¡¯m fighting back those strange tears at the corners of my eyes.


    ¡°And the consequence for him?¡± Zayd nods at my quarter.


    ¡°Make a wish,¡± he tells me, so I sp the quarter tight in my palm, and then drop it into the water. I¡¯d tell you my wish, but if I did, it might note true, and it¡¯s so impossibly impossible that I don¡¯t dare risk any chance I might have at it. ¡°Tristan¡¯s punishment is that he has to ¡­ sleep with Lizzie.¡±


    When Zayd trails off, his voice distant and tinny, I know what¡¯sing. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Marnye, I know this is killing him, but he has to do it. He has to. If he doesn¡¯t follow through on the bet, then Lizzie could tell Harper she broke hers. Imagine that, Harper du Pont with a gun or a crossbow. Marnye, this is life and death.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I stand up, the breeze ruffling the pink dress I put on this morning.


    It¡¯s Zayd¡¯s day, ording to my calendar, but I have to find Tristan.


    ¡°The only person he¡¯s ever slept with that he cares about is you. It¡¯s just sex, and I¡¯d do the same thing if I had to, to save you.¡±


    Lizzie pretended to be on our side, got in on the bets at the Infinity Club, and then purposely broke an agreement and threw it in my face. No. She can¡¯t have Tristan. I¡¯ll ¡­ I¡¯d rather take my chances with a rifle.


    I turn and start running, Zayd right behind me. He grabs me around the waist with his inked arms and lifts me off my feet.


    ¡°Marnye, stop. This has to be done. It has to.¡± I elbow him in the stomach and he grunts. Even though it¡¯s not that hard of a hit, he releases me because I¡¯m struggling too hard, and I know he doesn¡¯t want to hurt me. I hit the door to Tower Three, and then m my fist against the button for the elevator, eyes brimming with tears.


    It could be happening right now. He could be inside of her. He could ¡­


    He¡¯s mine.


    That thought cuts through the rest of my thoughts like an arrow, and I stand there hyperventting while the elevator takes its sweet ass fucking time.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Miranda asks, appearing by my side. I think she can tell by my face that I¡¯m most definitely not.


    ¡°No.¡±


    I¡¯m panting now, and I can¡¯t seem to force my mouth to form words. Zayd turns to Miranda to exin instead.


    ¡°Infinity Club stuff ¡­¡± He trails off as Miranda nts her hands on her hips. He sighs in frustration, but we both know how persuasive Miranda can be. ¡°Tristan has to fuck Lizzie because of a bet.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Miranda roars, and then she¡¯s scrambling into the elevator with us as soon as the doors open. ¡°What do you mean Tristan has to fuck Lizzie?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that or Marnye fucking dies,¡± Zayd yells, and I can tell he¡¯s gettin


    g frustrated. ¡°It¡¯s just ¡­ sex.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.

 286

    ¡°How can you say that after you¡¯ve been with Marnye? Could you fuck another girl right now? Could you?¡± Miranda hits him, but Zayd just puts his hands up like a shield and lets her do it. ¡°I knew I should¡¯ve made her my girlfriend and kicked all the rest of you into the depths of hell. I knew it. You¡¯re monsters, you¡¯re all monsters.¡±


    ¡°I just want to see her live through graduation,¡± Zayd whispers as the door opens, and I race over to Tristan¡¯s apartment, mming my fists on the door.


    I¡¯m fully aware it¡¯s been weeks since that day in the hallway, that the deed might already be done.


    But ¡­ it feels urgent somehow.


    After several minutes of pounding, the door finally opens and there he is, standing there in his full ck uniform and ring down at me with gray eyes.


    ¡°What is it now, Working Girl? I¡¯m busy.¡± I go to push past him, and he stops me by mming his palm into the doorjamb. That¡¯s when I know it¡¯s bad, that he¡¯s got something to hide. ¡°Get out of here, Marnye.¡± Tristan looks up to see Zayd standing there and hisses under his breath. ¡°You were supposed to keep her away from here today. Are you too stupid for even that simple of a task?¡±


    I duck low and look past Tristan, only to see Lizzie standing there in a blue bathrobe.


    No. No, I¡¯m toote.


    I shove Tristan out of the way and storm into the apartment, moving up to Lizzie and seriously considering pping her in her stupid surprised face. No violence, Marnye. No violence.


    ¡°I said no bullying at my school, and what you did to me, that was an act of bullying.¡±


    ¡°You deserved to know-¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± I scream, and she cringes. She really is weak, after all, Lizzie Walton is. ¡°Bullshit.¡±


    ¡°Marnye, get out of here and go on a date with Zayd or something,¡± Tristan says,ing to pause beside me. I can¡¯t look at him. I can¡¯t. I just can¡¯t.


    ¡°You told me about the bet, so that¡¯d you have leverage against Tristan. Just admit it. You can¡¯t stand that you lost.¡± Lizzie looks away and closes her amber eyes. Her hair looks tousled, and she seems to be naked under the robe. Did Ie toote? Is it already over?


    ¡°Marnye, we should go,¡± Zayd says, but I ignore him, too.


    ¡°Did you ¡­ already sleep together?¡± Miranda asks, pointing between Tristan and Lizzie. She sounds almost too upset about it. Like I get her being on my side, but there¡¯s something more to it. ¡°Did you guys just finish fucking?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for the best, Marnye,¡± Tristan says, but his face is so nk. I can see it even with that cruel mask of his in ce. He¡¯s shutting down.


    ¡°Did. You. Fuck. Her?¡± I whisper, hating that he won¡¯t answer me. Why won¡¯t he fucking answer me?


    Windsor, Zack, and Creed burst in the door a momentter, and Tristan swears under his breath, turning away and running his fingers through his dark hair.


    ¡°Bloody hell,¡± Wind murmurs when he sees me, and my whole body tightens up. He knew. Zayd knew. They all knew. They did a nice job hiding it from me, too.


    ¡°Tristan, look at me,¡± I say, but when he does, his expression is written in anger.


    ¡°I fucked Lizzie,¡± he says, voice cold.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± I say, and then louder. ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to do it, too. You think I¡¯d ever be happy with a charity case like you?¡±


    Wow.


    He¡¯s really putting it on hard, this bullshit act. But he forgets that I saw right through him in the bathroom, and even more so when we fell asleep in each other¡¯s arms that night.


    I¡¯m not buying it.


    I walk up to him and put my hands on his chest.


    ¡°You think lying to protect me will work? It won¡¯t. I don¡¯t want your lies as a shield against the bad things. I only want you.¡± I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his mouth hard. I kiss him as possessively as any of the other boys have ever kissed me. When Tristan starts to shake and his handse up to touch my arms of their own ord, I know I¡¯ve caught him red-handed. I pull back slightly and look him in the eyes. ¡°Did you fuck her?¡± I repeat.


    Tristan stares at me, emotions warring in his gray eyes.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he whispers finally, and I feel this huge surge of relief as I throw my arms around his neck.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    I know then an undeniable truth: I will not be able to give up Tristan Vanderbilt at the end of the year.


    I don¡¯t know exactly what that means overall, only that I can¡¯t not have him.


    I can¡¯t.


    ¡°But I have to, Marnye. I¡¯ll do anything to keep you safe. Even stick my dick in some pathetic waste of life who can¡¯t take a hint. I¡¯m done with you, Lizzie. Done. I was done with you the first moment Iid eyes on Marnye.¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± I whisper, putting my hand over his lips-lips that belong, undeniably, to me-and turning to nce over my shoulder. Lizzie is sobbing now, sinking to the floor in her robe and then just sitting there, all alone while the rest of us look on.


    I feel sorry for her in that moment, I really, really do.


    Miranda kneels down beside her and puts a hand on one of Lizzie¡¯s shoulders. Her face is still tight and angry, but maybe like me, she can see how weak Lizzie Walton really is on the inside. Rule Six: Know when enough is enough.


    ¡°Why the fuck are youforting her?¡± Creed demands, moving over to stand beside his sister. His blue eyes are cold and cruel and half-lidded. ¡°She¡¯s been against us from moment one. Fuck the bitch.¡±


    ¡°Creed, that¡¯s enough,¡± Miranda says. ¡°Yes, she was wrong, but ¡­ she¡¯s also just confused and stupid and ¡­ in love with someone she can¡¯t ever have. That shit drives people crazy.¡± A split-secondter, Myron Talbotes storming i


    n the door, his face a mask of wild fury.

 287

    ¡°Did you sleep with her?¡± he asks, looking at his best friend like he¡¯d dismember him if the answer were yes. ¡°Did you?!¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Tristan¡¯s voice is a single, soft note, and then he just copses, sitting down on the kitchen floor. I sit beside him and throw my arms around his neck, possessive as fuck.


    ¡°Thank god,¡± Myron grumbles, moving over to kneel down in front of Lizzie. ¡°You do not hide things from me. You don¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°Myron, I love him.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Myron hisses, and I realize that while my boys might be threaded through with cruelty, this man is literally made of it. ¡°He¡¯s in love with Marnye. And I¡¯m in love with you.¡± He cups the side of her face, but she looks away sharply and refuses to make eye contact.


    Myron stands up and pulls Lizzie along with him, swinging her into his arms.


    ¡°You two make a perfect couple-you can match each other¡¯s bullshit,¡± Creed snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.


    ¡°Careful. I don¡¯t like you. I don¡¯t like your girlfriend either. The only people in this room I care about are Tristan, and this girl here.¡± He lifts her up, but Lizzie just buries her face against his neck. ¡°Consider your debt fulfilled,¡± Myron tells Tristan, ncing his way. ¡°An old favor from a friend.¡±


    ¡°What do you want in return, Myron?¡± Tristan asks, sounding weary as hell. ¡°You always want something in return.¡±


    Myron grins, shing his teeth.


    ¡°Blood,¡± he says, and I shiver all over. ¡°I want blood.¡±


    I can¡¯t seem to extricate myself from Tristan¡¯sp. I¡¯m shaking too hard, thinking about him sleeping with Lizzie in some misguided attempt to save me.


    ¡°You scared me so bad,¡± I whisper, nuzzling against him as Windsor makes us all tea, and Zayd sits in a chair with his head in his hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t tell you sooner, Marnye. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so fucking sorry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re all just trying to do your best to protect me,¡± I say, exhaling


    sharply. I can¡¯t even begin to describe how relieved I am that I got here in time. And the Myron/Lizzie thing? Totally mind-blowing. But shit, I hope she falls in love with him and leaves Tristan the fuck alone. ¡°But you guys need to start telling me shit, Infinity Club rules or no.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes breaking Club rules is a life or death sort of thing,¡± Zack says, exhaling and running his palm over his hair. He¡¯s watching me cling to Tristan with a dark expression, like he thinks this is it, that I¡¯ve made my decision.


    I decide to address that, unhooking my arms from around Tristan¡¯s neck and standing up. Miranda watches me, and then excuses herself, giving me a small peck on the cheek before she retreats out of the apartment, mouthing call me before she shuts the door.


    ¡°In the spirit of continued honesty, I just ¡­ I want to say that I¡¯ll make my decision on graduation day.¡±


    ¡°Decision?¡± Creed asks, like he¡¯s not sure he understands what I¡¯m getting at.


    ¡°To ¡­ pick one of you,¡± I whisper, my voice rough and broken. ¡°I know I owe you guys at least that much. It¡¯s not fair of me to keep going on like this, especially not when we¡¯re all making decisions about colleges. I don¡¯t want you all following me to Bornstead expecting something ¡­¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    ¡°Nobody here is pressuring you to make a choice,¡± Creed says, looking away. Even though he says he hates tea, he takes the cup when Windsor presents it. ¡°Marnye, you do you. We¡¯re all here for you. We could give a shit less what happens with each other.¡±


    I smile and shake my head.


    I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ve realized it yet, and I¡¯d really hate to break the news, but ¡­ they¡¯re friends, the five of them. They are, it¡¯s true. Shocking, I know. So scandalous.


    Turning back to look at Tristan, I see him staring out the window, his expression far away and fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. He¡¯s used to throwing his body around to get what he wants. I think it¡¯s just hit him that he can¡¯t do that anymore, that he shouldn¡¯t have been doing it all along.


    Speaking of ¡­ I¡¯m nailing Kiara Xiao tomorrow. I¡¯m tired of waiting.


    Harper ¡­ I have special ns for her. But the rest of Harper and Co., it¡¯s time for them to go.


    ¡°I love you guys,¡± I whisper, the words soft and hushed in the tense darkness of the apartment. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve said it, and maybe it¡¯s a copout to say it to them all at once, but ¡­ they¡¯re like family now.


    ¡°We love you, too,¡± Creed says, turning back to look at me and sighing. ¡°And ¡­ we¡¯re sorry.¡±


    I smile. I like the use of the word we-more than I can bear to admit. ¡°Apology epted. Just ¡­ stop making decisions without talking to me


    first. I¡¯m not afraid of the Infinity Club.¡± I put my hand over my tattoo, and exhale. ¡°We only have a few months left. Let¡¯s make the best of them, okay?¡± I sit back down on the couch and close my eyes.


    These guys all think I need to be protected ¡­ but I think they need my protection, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Charity,¡± Zayd whispers again, but really, he¡¯s got the least to apologize for. If he hadn¡¯t told me ¡­ and I¡¯d walked in on Tristan and Lizzie? I might¡¯ve killed her.


    ¡°No more apologizing. Can we please just put a rom on and hang out together-without Lizzie?¡±


    ¡°No more Lizzie,¡± Tristan agrees, standing up and heading into his room. Hees back with a bundle of clothing, passing out sweats and loose shirts and tanks to the other guys. ¡°Here. Borrow some pajamas, and getfortable. I have a feeling our girlfriend isn¡¯t letting any of us out that door tonight.¡±


    ¡°Damn straight,¡± I say, a smile working its way across my lips. I sleep be


    tter that night than I have all year.

 288

    I¡¯m done ying games.


    The next morning, I take Miranda and Andrew with me and grab some of my new first year friends from The Mess. It doesn¡¯t take much to encourage them to take up residence in Harper¡¯s gazebo, that little niche she¡¯s selected for herself and her cronies.


    Kiara likes toe out here before ss and do yoga.


    I know that seeing these first years in her spot is going to piss her off to no end.


    And once a bully, always a bully.


    ¡°I agree,¡± I say to Principal Collins as we walk down the path together under the pretense of discussing universities. She, too, went to Bornstead. ¡°It is important to visit the campus before making a final decision; I figured we¡¯d head up there for spring break.¡±


    ¡°A productive use of the break,¡± she says, nodding appreciatively, her skin crinkling slightly as she smiles at me and adjusts her sses. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, Marnye, I was worried when you started hanging out with the Idols. I most certainly never expected you to be an Idol yourself.¡± I raise my brows at her frank discussion of student politics, but then, the woman isn¡¯t stupid. The tradition of Bluebloods at Burberry Prep is over a hundred years old. Of course the staff knows about it, just like they know about the Infinity Club. Would not surprise me to find out that some of them are members, too.


    ¡°Get the fuck out of here!¡± Kiara snaps, grabbing a first year girl by the tie and shoving her out of the gazebo so hard that she trips and ends up ass deep in the decorative pond outside the gazebo. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you slobbering all over Jason, you pathetic whore.¡±


    ¡°I neverid a finger on him!¡± the girl shouts back, and I feel the smallest twinge of guilt. I may or may not have selected these specific first years knowing that one of them¡¯s been flirting with Kiara¡¯s new boyfriend, Jason Marrin. ¡°And he asked me out.¡±


    ¡°You bitch,¡± Kiara snarls, storming over and pping the younger girl as hard as she can across the face.


    ¡°Miss Xiao!¡± Principal Collins shouts, her eyes wide. She veers away from me and takes off in that direction as Kiara snaps her gaze around and sputters, trying toe up with an excuse for her behavior.


    But hmm.


    That zero tolerance bullying policy is still in effect.


    Good thing I slipped some of the notes Kiara¡¯s been writing to Harper under the Principal¡¯s office door. I made sure none of them implicated her majesty in any way though. I am not ready for her to go down, especially not for such a small infraction.


    Although ¡­ I guess threatening to kill someone for supposedly sleeping with your boyfriend is pretty fucked-up.


    I continue walking, heading back into the chapel just in time for breakfast. When I get to The Mess, Lizzie is waiting for me.


    Oh for fuck¡¯s sake.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you tried to ckmail Tristan into fucking you. You¡¯re pathetic.¡± Creed circles Lizzie like a shark. In fact, all the boys are surrounding her, and her face is streaked with tears. To be fair, what she tried to do was beyond fucked-up, but I did say no bullying, didn¡¯t I?


    ¡°She¡¯s a waste of life,¡± Tristan says, his eyes narrowed. ¡°I liked you as a friend, and you used my love for Marnye against me. Don¡¯t you see how pathetic you are?¡±


    ¡°Boys.¡±


    I walk across the stone floor, heels cking, and pause next to them. ¡°Marnye,¡± Zack says, stepping back, like he¡¯s acknowledging it¡¯s my turn


    to talk.


    My eyes meet Lizzie¡¯s amber ones.


    ¡°I think you should go back to Coventry Prep,¡± I say, and her mouth drops open. ¡°Go back there and hang out with your old friends. You¡¯re done here.¡±


    ¡°But I-¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I cut her off and look her directly in the face. ¡°You are done here.


    Go home.¡±


    The door bursts open behind us, and Mirandaes in with Myron Talbot on her heels. She grabs me by the arm, and squeezes in what I can only assume is a bit of a warning. Don¡¯t mess with the girl Myron likes, or he¡¯ll destroy you. That¡¯s what it feels like she¡¯s trying to say.


    Meanwhile, Andrew buries himself in his oatmeal and stays the hell out of this. Smart choice. Wish I could do the same.


    ¡°You guys can sit down,¡± I tell my cadre of boyfriends, and even though Windsor looks askance at Myron, like he¡¯d quite willingly step between me and him if needed, he listens. For once.


    All five boys sit around the high table and getfortable. Creed has one boot up on the actual table itself which, you know, could be considered bad manners but that I find cute anyway. I tear my eyes away from them to stare at Lizzie Walton.


    ¡°I tried to make things fair. Even though I¡¯ve been in love with Tristan Vanderbilt since first year, even though I¡¯ve endured so much shit from him. I wanted to give him the privilege of making a fair and unbiased choice, but


    ¡­ you¡¯re not as nice as you pretend to be, are you?¡±


    She just stares at me from those amber eyes of hers, her face crestfallen, as splinted and sharp as broken ss.


    ¡°To tell you the truth, I only came here because of Tristan. I mean, I liked you Marnye, I wanted to be friends, but I don¡¯t think I can. Not when you¡¯ve got him.¡± She gestures in the direction of the high table and then sighs, reaching up to smooth her palms over her dark hair. ¡°I can leave by Friday


    -¡±


    I cut her off.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± I say, and my voice is deadly serious.


    Lizzie pauses as Myron pushes off the wall toe stand beside her, taking her elbow in a possessive manner.


    ¡°I¡¯m going with her. But I won¡¯t leave my best friend exposed. Also, I¡¯m tired of being kept on a leash. I know you have special little rules to live by to make yourself feel better, and Tristan might find them cute, but to be quite


    frank, I don¡¯t give a fuck. You can thank meter-I left the qContent is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ueen bee and her bitch for you to squash.¡±

 289

    Myron drags Lizzie toward the door and then pauses, ncing back at us. I have a feeling I know what he¡¯s going to say before he says it.


    ¡°Don¡¯te after her. I¡¯m serious as a heart attack. I will fuck you up.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I promise, and I mean that.


    I don¡¯t need to go after Lizzie.


    I have Tristan, the only thing she¡¯s ever wanted. There¡¯s nothing more to be done. But frankly, I¡¯d rather not see her ever again.


    Myron steers her out the door, and I wonder if he¡¯ll relentlessly pursue her the way she did Tristan, drive her up the wall with his crazy. I hate to say it, but ¡­ I almost hope so? Is that bad karma?


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to hit her or anything and get punched,¡± Miranda starts, trying way too hard to exin herself. I stop her by giving her a kiss on the cheek, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the high table for breakfast.


    It takes me a minute to fully realize what Myron just said. ¡°Wait. Where are Abigail and Valentina?¡±


    Abigail and Valentina do note back to the academy after that day.


    I don¡¯t even have enough time to figure out what happened to them before Valentine¡¯s Day rolls around. The boys do the rose thing like usual, but they also give me a ne, one that I¡¯m sure is obscenely expensive. I¡¯d have turned it down if it didn¡¯te with its own story.


    ¡°It¡¯s called the Idol¡¯s Eye,¡± Creed tells me, and I notice that the center of the round ne is a jewel that¡¯s the same color as his eyes. It¡¯s surrounded by small, clear diamonds and hanging on a delicate chain. ¡°It¡¯s been owned by presidents and princes, and it once disappeared for over three hundred years.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± I whisper, but you know me, I¡¯m a history buff and I¡¯m intrigued as hell. ¡°He¡¯s lying.¡± I look up and find Zack shaking his head.


    ¡°Not this time. The diamond is really that old. Thest time it was ever in the public eye was in the eighties. It went missing after that. If you look it up online, it¡¯s treated like an unsolvable mystery. The only thing that really happened is that the Infinity Club got ahold of it.¡±


    ¡°How did you guys get it?¡± I ask as Windsor takes the chain and unhooks it, carefully putting it around my neck and teasing my skin with his fingers as he hooks the sp. He leans down to whisper against my ear.


    ¡°We won it in a bet, what else?¡± He stands up then as I finger the jewel and look between Zayd and Tristan. It¡¯s been weeks since that horrible day in his apartment, when I found Lizzie in a blue bathrobe, and I swear, it¡¯s like now that we¡¯ve all been unlocked to each other, there¡¯s an elerant in the air.


    Every day that passes, I want them more.


    Every day that passes, I know that choosing just one of them would kill me.


    I¡¯m not going to be able to choose, am I? I think as we head outside to the garden party, and take up residence in one of the alcoves behind the hedges. Zack and Zayd fetch us all refreshments, and we stay there in the warm evening air until it gets dark and all the torches are lit.


    Soft music filters over to us from the courtyard, and I experiment with what it¡¯s like to kiss one boy after the other, a single kiss on the lips as a Valentine¡¯s Day present. And when I say single kiss, I do mean like tongue and everything.


    It¡¯s exhrating, to be quite honest. Makes me feel greedy, wanting them all like that. And yet, at the same time, I¡¯m not ashamed by it either.


    Not one bit.


    ¡°He did, what?¡± I¡¯m sitting at the harp in the music room, my fingers poised over the strings as Tristan, Zack, and Creed stand in a half-circle around me. I feel so queasy, I might have to excuse myself to the bathroom.


    ¡°He beat the shit out of them both,¡± Creed says, his face tight. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean he just hit them. When he said he liked blood, he meant it. They both ended up with broken bones. That, and he burned Valentina¡¯s summer home to the ground. That was her grandmother¡¯s ce, with all her happy memories. Like, her parents are pieces of shit, and no amount of money will ever get back what he just destroyed in that fire.¡±


    ¡°He got Abigail¡¯s ce in Cruz Bay, too,¡± Tristan says, looking at me like he¡¯s actually taking some of this me on himself. ¡°Nobody died, but Abigail was at home resting up her broken leg. She¡¯s got burns all across the calf.¡±


    ¡°Jesus. Myron is that crazy?¡± I choke out, dropping my hands to myp. I wanted revenge, but not like that. That¡¯s too much, too far.


    ¡°They all are,¡± Zack says, exhaling. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re so afraid. You¡¯re surprised by this, but we¡¯re not. Myron isn¡¯t an outlier, Marnye. He¡¯s the norm.¡±


    ¡°What do we do about him?¡± I whisper, because I¡¯m horrified. I can¡¯t imagine just leaving someone like Myron Talbot to walk the earth uninhibited. When they said Tristan was the one keeping him in line, they meant it, didn¡¯t they?


    ¡°Do about him?¡± Creed asks, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. ¡°Honestly, nothing.¡±


    ¡°He considered letting him do his thing as us paying our debt toward Lizzie¡¯s broken bet,¡± Tristan says, and then I feel almost guilty, like if I¡¯d let him and Lizzie ¡­ None of this would¡¯ve happened. Is it terrible that I still wouldn¡¯t take it back?


    ¡°They¡¯ll both be okay though, right?¡± I ask, wondering why I care so much about two girls who literally pushed and held my head underwater, and then trapped me in my room while their mistress tried to brand my flesh like a cow.


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Creed murmurs, and I give him a look as Zack sighs. ¡°They¡¯ll be okay. They¡¯re rtively minor injuries, but that¡¯s not the


    point. What Myron did to them is likely what the Club is going to try to do to you.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    I stand up from my stool, but I¡¯m not sure what to say or do.


    Even if I leave Burberry Prep, that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll be safe. It just means I¡¯ll be away from the guys.


    ¡°Does anyone want to have another sleepover?¡± I ask, because I¡¯ll admit it: I¡¯m scared shitless.


    For the rest of the year, I end up sleeping in one room or another


    with all five boyfriends by my side.

 290

    When Spring Break rolls around, I take a brief trip with the guys up to see the Bornstead U campus. It¡¯s literally everything I thought it would be and more. Standing there in the cool mountain air and watching the universitye alive in the morning made it all seem more real somehow.


    That¡¯s going to be my life.


    One day, I¡¯m going to be a student there.


    My joy onlysts so long as it takes us to get back to Cruz Bay where Dad is waiting.


    Since Ist saw him, everything has gone to shit.


    I stop in the doorway and look at the skinny man in the wheelchair that used to be my father. It takes everything I have inside of me to put on a smile and walk in there, kneel down by his side and give him a cheek on the kiss.


    Later, when he¡¯s gone to bed and I have a moment to talk with his nurse, I learn the truth.


    Charlie Reed is under hospice care now.


    As in ¡­ he¡¯s basically waiting around to die.


    I spend the next few hours in the bathroom, trying to stay quiet as I alternate between throwing up and sobbing. By the time morning rolls around, I¡¯m exhausted, but I make Dad his coffee and watch action movies with him until he decides it¡¯s time for an afternoon nap.


    Then I call Isabe.


    Surprisingly, she shows up at the house in a fancy red sportscar that no fifteen year old needs.


    ¡°He¡¯s really dying, huh?¡± she asks, ring at me suspiciously as I sit on the grass on a id nket and toy with the idea of calling the boys or maybe Miranda. They¡¯re all around, and now I know why. Two reasons really. One, because they don¡¯t want me to end up like Abigail and Valentina. And two, because of ¡­ well, exactly this.


    ¡°I guess so,¡± I say, because I still can¡¯t make myself say it. I look up, at Isabe¡¯s strangely familiar face and try not to freak her out by smiling too much when she grudgingly sits down beside me. ¡°What made you change your mind ande over here?¡± I ask.


    She looks away from me sharply, picking at the grass near the edge of the nket with freshly manicured nails.


    ¡°I saw what happened to Abigail Fanning, and I ¡­ I don¡¯t want that to be me.¡± Isabe turns to look at me with this sharp fear in her eyes that makes her look less like Harper and more like a terrified kid in need of guidance. ¡°Everyone wants in the Infinity Club. It¡¯s like ¡­ you¡¯re nobody and nothing if you¡¯re not a member.¡± She looks down at her shoe, a red-bottomed Louboutin she¡¯s casually rubbing around in the grass even though it costs a fortune. ¡°Dad wants me to join, but ¡­ I don¡¯t know if I will, at least not yet.¡±


    I nod, and we sit there in silence again together for a while.


    ¡°Why did you tell me that Tristan was screwing Lizzie, when he wasn¡¯t?¡±


    Isabe shrugs and keeps her gaze focused on anything and everything but me.


    ¡°You love him. I wanted to hurt you. I ¡­ don¡¯t want to be a Reed. I¡¯m a Carmichael, Marnye. I¡¯m a fucking Carmichael, and I always will be. I don¡¯t care who my biological father really is.¡±


    ¡°So you took your anger out on me?¡± I raise an eyebrow and Isabe shrugs, pushing up to her feet and brushing grass from her bare legs.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re an easy target because you try so hard at everything that you make other people feel like shit. Queen of the school, top of the ss, dating all the hottest, richest guys. You¡¯re pretty ¡­¡± Isabe trails off, and I fight the urge to smile. She called me pretty. My little sister just called me pretty. Now if that¡¯s not a win, I don¡¯t know what is. ¡°Anyway, please don¡¯t


    ¡­ say anything to my dad when you meet him.¡±


    ¡°I would never do that,¡± I promise, and she nods, looking up at the house. I want more than anything for her toe in and see Charlie, but I¡¯m afraid to ask. I¡¯m afraid to hear her say no because then I might hate her forever, and she doesn¡¯t deserve that. She¡¯s a spoiled, rotten little brat, but I¡¯m good at injecting a little humility into those types. If I did it with the boys, I can do it with her, too. ¡°Do you think I could at leaste in and give him a hug?¡± she asks finally, and I smile.


    We head into the house together, and wait on the couch until Charlie gets up and his aide wheels him down the hallway to get some water. When he sees us together, his face lights up.


    ¡°Girls,¡± he says, his smile so wide it crinkles up his face. I swear there¡¯s a silent my right before that word he won¡¯t let himself say. I get us all situated on the back porch with lemonade, and Isabe and Charlie actually chat together. Apparently they¡¯re both fans of James Bond and Indiana Jones.


    ¡°My D-¡± she starts and then clears her throat. ¡°Adam has a lot of original movie memorabilia. You shoulde see it sometime. He likes to show it off to anyone that will listen to him brag.¡± Sounds about right, I think as I hold Charlie¡¯s hand.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to,¡± he tells her with the softest sort of smile, and thenter, when she gets up to leave, she bends down to give him a hug, and it¡¯s the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen.


    After Isabe drives off, I get that book Charlie started in Napa, and I open it so we can read together.


    ¡°I already saw you peek at the end, you know,¡± I tell him after we finish, and I close the cover.


    He looks up at the clouds moving across a blue, blue sky and then smiles wistfully to himself.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.

 291

    Going back to Burberry Prep isn¡¯t easy.


    I almost stay home.


    But Dad refuses to let me, helping me pack my suitcase and giving my wrist a squeeze as he looks me in the face with those stubborn brown eyes of his.


    ¡°I will be there for graduation, Marnye. That¡¯s a promise.¡±


    ¡°I feel so guilty though,¡± I tell Creed as we sit in The Mess, and I stab a bit of egg, yellow goo flooding my te. I can¡¯t even eat it, though, not right now. Instead, I push the te aside and give Isabe a small wave when she walks in. She doesn¡¯t return it, but at least I get a small half-smile.


    We have a long way to go, but we¡¯ll get there.


    After all, here I am sitting across from the pissed-off narcoleptic aristocrat, and he¡¯s looking at me with a bit of something in his gaze that wasn¡¯t there before. He says it¡¯s love, and how can I deny that it could be? Four years we¡¯ve struggled together, through all sorts of bullshit.


    And in June, it¡¯ll alle to an end.


    Graduation, my having to choose between the boys, the revenge on the old Bluebloods, my reign as queen of the school ¡­ hopefully not my life.


    We just have to make it a few more weeks, I promise my tired body, and then I shake out my hands.


    ¡°You can¡¯t feel guilty about living your life, Marnye.¡± He studies me from under half-lidded eyes, his gaze that droopy bedroom look that I¡¯ve always loved. Watching him as he leans forward and puts his chair legs t on the floor, dropping his boots to the wood of the dais, I know that I couldn¡¯t lose him. I couldn¡¯t let him go.


    I¡¯m starting to get that realization with all the guys.


    I¡¯m starting to realize that my choice ¡­ is moreplicated than I ever imagined it would be. I¡¯m going to have to trust myself, and let the dice fall where they may.


    ¡°I know that, but I can¡¯t stop wondering if my time would be better spent at home.¡±


    ¡°After everything you¡¯ve worked for, you can¡¯t give it up. Isn¡¯t that why your dad worked his ass off all his life, to get you here?¡± He¡¯s right of course, but being reprimanded by azy sloth makes me feel salty, so I poke him in the arm with a fork. Creed smiles, this devil-may-care sort of expression that makes him look impossibly unattainable.


    Only ¡­ I obtained him, didn¡¯t I?


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I know he wants to see me graduate more than anything else. It might be his ¡­¡± I can¡¯t make myself say it. His dying wish. On the inside, I know it¡¯s true. But my lips just refuse to form the word.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go for a walk,¡± Creed says, and then he stands up and takes my hand. We stroll around the campus for a bit, and then hit up my room. Now that Harper¡¯s been cut off from the blood supply of her favorite minions, she storms around campus with this look of determination in her eyes that I feel reflected back in mine.


    One of us is going down before the end of the year, and it¡¯s not going to be me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been reading all your manga, you know,¡± Creed says, trailing hiszy fingers down the row of spines on my bookshelf. ¡°And I swear, your favorite character archetypes show a strong resemnce to me and Tristan.¡±


    ¡°Did you think I was joking when I said I wanted to see you get topped by him?¡± I ask, and Creed scowls at me.


    ¡°Never. If anything, it¡¯d be me fucking him.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I lean back on the bedspread, and Creedes over toy beside me, an angel with white-blond hair and the palest eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯d be okay with that, too. Only, I want to watch. Does that make me a perv?¡±


    ¡°Only in certain circles,¡± Creed drawls, turning onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. ¡°I hate Tristan, but I have wondered how he got so many girls to sleep with him. Are his kisses like magic or something?¡±


    There¡¯s a knock at the door, and we both pause as I get off the bed to check the peephole, and then open it carefully. Tristan is waiting there, leaning against the wall next to the door and then swinging in like he owns the ce. He studies Creed, all lounged out on the bed.


    ¡°What are you two up to in here?¡± he asks, voice smooth and dark.


    ¡°Just discussing what a little male-male action might look like on you two.¡±


    Tristan pauses for a moment, and then he walks over to the bed, crawls up between Creed¡¯s legs and touches the side of his face.


    ¡°The fuck are you doing?!¡± Creed manages to get out before Tristan leans down and captures his lips. It¡¯s a long kiss, too, much longer than you¡¯d expect from two assholes who hate each other. Creed puts his boot between them and pushes Tristan off with a shove. ¡°What the hell ¡­¡± He slides his arm across his lips as Tristan smirks and stands back up, crossing his arms over his chest.


    ¡°Does that suffice?¡± he asks, and Creed flips him the finger.


    ¡°You only wish it would go further than that,¡± he snaps, and Tristan shrugs, like he¡¯s not entirely opposed to it. I try not to hold out too much hope.


    ¡°Did youe over here for a reason?¡± I ask, and Tristan nces my way with a small tilt of his head, raven-dark hair sliding across his forehead.


    ¡°Do you still have that recording you made of William?¡± he asks, and I nod. I managed to get a recording of Mr. Vanderbilt treating his son like trash, calling him a bastard, threatening him. Although there¡¯s no video, the sound of him pping his kid is pretty damning. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want him to show up at graduation and make a thing out of it. He tried toe here and convinc


    e me to go with him for fall break.

 292

    ¡°True. But it¡¯s not always the ending that¡¯s the most important.


    Sometimes, the journey to get there is just as good.¡±


    A few nightster, I call Zayd.


    I don¡¯t know why.


    I just pick one of the boys at random and dial.


    Hees over right away, inching his blue Jaguar convertible up to the curb, and I hop in. I don¡¯t really like leaving Dad alone, but his health aide is here, and I ¡­ I just need a minute.


    ¡°Sometimes, when someone else is dying, it¡¯s harder on everyone around them than it is for them.¡± He curls his inked hands around the steering wheel and drives slowly, so that the night wind teases our hair, but doesn¡¯t steal away our conversation.


    ¡°Are you talking about your mom?¡± I ask softly, my hands shaking. I force them to sit still in myp. I¡¯m overtired, overworked, and I¡¯m going to end up back at Burberry in a bad state. Spring break hasn¡¯t exactly been a refreshing experience, but to be quite honest, I¡¯m scared for it to end.


    I¡¯m scared I¡¯ll never see Charlie again if I leave. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t go back?


    ¡°Yep. I mean, I was young, so I didn¡¯t have to care for her, but my grandma did.¡± Zayd pauses and looks over at me as he rolls up to a stop sign. Our neighborhood is so quiet, it¡¯s more of a formality than anything else. Nobody¡¯sing. ¡°Not my rich grandma though, my other one. I think caring for her dying daughter is what killed her, too. Or maybe she died of a broken heart or something. I¡¯d pretend to be a tough guy and say I don¡¯t believe in that shit, but I do.¡±


    I smile at him and then reach out to take his right hand. He squeezes mine and pulls it to his lips for a kiss.


    ¡°How did you get here so fast, by the way? I thought your house was, like way down the beach.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh ¡­¡± He looks up at the stars and then shrugs again. ¡°I¡¯m on my way to deliver a present to Becky¡¯s house. It¡¯s just, you know, revenge stuff.¡±


    ¡°Is it now?¡± I ask, leaning back against the door. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve really fucked it up this year. I was so on point during second.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t fuck it up, you just learned that you don¡¯t have to do everything by yourself all the time. Come on.¡± Zayd rolls us quietly out of the little suburban corner of Grenadine Heights, and then guns the engine, giving me this wild, little thrill, like a rollercoaster.


    We take off and head into the hills, toward the super-rich neighborhoods that line some of the most exquisite beaches in the state.


    When we get to one with a giant ironwork gate, I realize that ironically, Becky tter¡¯s family has my dad¡¯s artwork gracing their fence. Part of me is proud ¡­ but the other part of me wonders if I couldn¡¯te back hereter with a blowtorch and burn it off, maybe take it with me as a souvenir?


    Zayd gets out and collects a box from the trunk,ing around the side of the car and pausing next to me.


    ¡°During first year, Becky was dating the basketball coach. I have all their stupid ass love letters in here.¡±


    ¡°Where did you get those?¡± I ask as Zayd cracks the lid and shows the huge pile to me. He grins.


    ¡°The coach quit like six months into their rtionship, but his son is a huge Billy Kaiser fan. I may have bribed him with backstage passes. I know don¡¯t you like to shame people or whatever, but it¡¯s not the sexy stuff in here that¡¯s the main focus. She gave the coach insider trading info. He made a ton of money off that shit. Her parents are going to ship her ass to one of those military academies Tristan was so afraid of.¡±


    Zayd presses the buzzer on the inte, and an employeees out to take the box. The two of them seem to know each other, exchanging a brief moment of chitchat before the guy takes it, and we leave with a squeal of tires.


    Zayd takes us up a hill, parks, and then gets out a pre-rolled joint and a lighter.


    ¡°I know you want to get back to your dad, but you also look like you¡¯re about to have a stress heart attack. Here.¡± He hands both things over to me. I stare at them for a while, considering, and then realize that if I don¡¯t take care of myself, too, I really am going to pass out from the stress.


    We smoke the joint for a few-mostly I just cough and hack-and then Zayd slips his hand into my pocket, pulling out the list as I gape at him.


    ¡°How did you know that was in there?¡± I ask, and he shrugs.


    ¡°You carry it around all the time, and to be honest, I grope your ass too much to miss it.¡± He gives it back to me along with the lighter. ¡°I know you¡¯ve still got to get Harper, but when you say you have a n, I believe it. Burn that damn thing and let¡¯s be done with it. It¡¯s got bad juju or something.¡±


    I unfold the list and stare at the names, and then I lift the lighter up and catch the edge, watching it burn.


    When there¡¯s nothing left but a small corner, I shake it out until there are no live embers left, and then I watch the ashes of what¡¯s left float away on a breeze thates straight off the bay.


    ¡°Good,¡± Zayd says, pulling me close and tucking me in against his side. ¡°Now we can bang.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re as crude as Creed Cabot,¡± I grumble, but we hang out in his car for a while anyway, and when we¡¯re done, he takes me home, and I spend the rest of spring break holding my dad¡¯s hand durin


    g every waking moment.

 293

    But I¡¯m not meeting his demands, and I¡¯m tired of being hit. Send me the file, would you? I¡¯m going to email it to his new wife.¡±


    I nod again, and Tristan smiles tightly, giving Creed a saucy little wink before he leaves the way he came and closes the door behind him. Damn.


    And here I thought those two might get down and dirty. Maybeter, at Bornstead U or something.


    Not that I¡¯m counting on it.


    Once I tell them my choice, one or all of them might change their minds on what they want to do for college.


    I sit back down on the bed, and Creed teases his fingers up my thigh again, the way he did in the library that one day. Only this time, we¡¯re in my room together, and there¡¯s nobody around to see. I take his hand and guide his fingers to the sp of one of the garters, making him snap it open so the sock bunches around my calf and leaves my leg bare.


    ¡°You know, I was thinking ¡­ since we had our first time together ¡­¡± ¡°How could I possibly forget?¡± he purrs, pulling me into his arms and


    kissing me with thiszy air of importance, like he has all the time in the world to do it. Maybe he does? Who knows? ¡°What about it? You need to go over the basics again?¡±


    ¡°I was actually thinking we might tackle something new.¡± I stand up, pull out the blue dress he sent me during first year, and get naked, so I can dress myself in it. Creed watches me hungrily, running his tongue over his lower lip as I turn toward him, reach down and unbutton his ck cks. When I slide lower and put my mouth over his hard shaft, he definitely doesn¡¯t protest.


    Finals for fourth year Burberry Prep students are considered some of the most difficult in the country, on par with the academic standards of most universities. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve bombed everything when Creed and Miranda knock on Zack¡¯s door, waking us both up from a seriously important nap. We¡¯re all so overworked, like we always are at this time of year, that sleep is essential.


    ¡°You did it,¡± the twins say at the same time as they step into the apartment together, and then re at one another. They don¡¯t often speak in unison like


    that.


    ¡°Did what?¡± I ask on the tail-end of a yawn, feeling a little like Creed in that moment. Too bad my tired, boneless ass can¡¯t elegantly drape itself across furniture like the arrogant blond brat in front of me.


    ¡°You beat Tristan,¡± he tells me, a sort of malicious glee coloring his voice at seeing his rival brought down a notch.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    I shout so loud that Zackes running, his sweats low-slung, his eyes narrowed to slits.


    ¡°This better be life or death,¡± he murmurs, but I¡¯m already grabbing his hoodie and slipping it on over my tank. On our way down to the first floor, we grab Zayd, Tristan, and Windsor and then head down the chapel hall to look at ss rankings for thest time.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Harper is there, but I ignore her. She can¡¯t hurt me in a crowd this size. Besides, we only have a few days left until graduation, and I¡¯m starting to wonder if she hasn¡¯t finally given up.


    I should¡¯ve known better.


    The crowd parts to let the Bluebloods through, and we all gather around to stare at the list.


    There I am. Valedictorian.


    I nce over at Tristan to see if he¡¯s pissed, but he¡¯s actually ¡­ smiling?!


    Like, it¡¯s a real smile, true and genuine.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been so happy to lose in all my life,¡± he says, and then I throw my arms around him and kiss him. Not just him either, but all of them. Windsor, Zayd, Creed, Zack.


    ¡°I feel like I should make us a round of-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it,¡± Creed interrupts, putting two fingers to his temple. ¡°Nobody wants your boiled nt water.¡±


    ¡°I was going to say cocktails, but since you just insulted the national beverage of my homnd, I should kick your ass before I serve them.¡± Windsor nces over at me, and shes a blinding grin. ¡°A mocktail for you, Mdy, since I can¡¯t exactly serve you a virgin drink anymore.¡±


    ¡°Hrious,¡± I drawl with a roll of my eyes, but I let him take my hand anyway and pull me through the crowd. In typical Burberry Prep fashion,


    there¡¯s a party tonight, but it¡¯s not one of ours. Actually, it¡¯s being thrown by some very promising first years.


    We attend as a group: me, my boys, Miranda, and Andrew.


    I¡¯m so pleased with the party itself, and the general camaraderie of the students, I give one of the girls my light-up star scepter.


    ¡°Have fun being an Idol,¡± I whisper as I turn and walk away, the entire crowd pausing in their reverie to watch my little group as we make our way out of the party, wearing our all-ck fourth year uniforms for the veryst time.


    I¡¯ve just passed the crown, and it feels damn good, like a weight¡¯s been lifted off my shoulders.


    Tomorrow, I¡¯ll get to see Charlie.


    Tomorrow, I can give my speech, exact my revenge, and once midnight hits, I¡¯ll be like Cindere at the ball. Instead of losing my magic however, I¡¯ll walk away from the clutches of the Infinity Club with my life.


    I put my hand over my shed-out infinity tattoo, climb behind the wheel of the Maserati, and head back to campus.


    All five guys spend the night in my room, and we aren¡¯t exactly wearing


    clothes.


    They don¡¯t touch each other, but they let me touch them, one by one, working my way through until I¡¯m sweaty and exhausted and falling asleep


    in a pile I never want to leave.


    Never.


    Thest day of schooles much quicker than I anticipated, leaving me in this whirlwind where I¡¯m always in a rush from one thing to another, whether it¡¯s project or an orchestra performance or a schrship deadline.

 294

    It feels like I might never breathe again.


    Until ¡­ I do.


    Everythinges to a stop, but not like the storm has passed, more like I¡¯m in the eye of it.


    ¡°You look way hotter in your graduation gown than I do,¡± Miranda whines, adjusting her glorious blond hair around her face and proving that that is most definitely not true. She looks beautiful, like she always does. In another time or another ce, we¡¯d probably be soulmates.


    Yep.


    I¡¯d definitely add her to my harem.


    Speaking of harems ¡­ My heart beats wildly in my chest as I sit down on the edge of my bed and think about the decision I madest week. It¡¯s been haunting me ever since, but I know in my heart it¡¯s the right one. During first year, when I got those three boxes filled with glittering dresses, I chose one. And I wished I hadn¡¯t. Not because Zayd was the wrong choice, but because Creed and Tristan were just as right.


    My choice now remains the same: I either pick all of them ¡­ or I pick none of them.


    That¡¯s what I¡¯ve decided, although both avenues might lead me to the same ce. They might say hell to it, and walk away, but at least that¡¯d be their choice.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Miranda asks as Andrewes out of the bathroom, putting his cap on and examining himself in the mirror. He¡¯s too excited about his trip to Connecticut tomorrow to be thinking much about anything else. He¡¯s off to meet his email pen pal which I¡¯m still not sure is a good idea. I did stalk the dude, some guy named Ross from Adamson All-Boys Academy. Seems legit, although I did read online that a girl died on campus once, when they tried to integrate the students. Scary.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, blinking myself out of my stupor and ncing over at her. I¡¯ve got fresh rose-gold in my hair, a new very short and very edgy ¡®do, and an Idol¡¯s Eye ne hanging between my breasts. Dad¡¯s charm bracelet is on my arm, and I¡¯ve tucked a little something from each boy into the pockets of the jeans I¡¯m wearing underneath the ck gown. ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°You like you¡¯re about to attend a funeral, not a graduation,¡± Andrew says, and then Miranda gives him a hard, sharp look to shut him up.


    Charlie is ¡­ not doing well. So not well, in fact, that I still don¡¯t know if


    he should even being today. I told him I¡¯d take my cap, gown, and diploma home and we could have our own ceremony in the backyard but he wasn¡¯t having it.


    Jennifer agreed to go with him, along with his health aide. Dad told me in his most recent text that seeing his little girl graduate was the culmination of his life goals. I didn¡¯t like that. But how could I deny him after?


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I say, standing up and heading out the door. The boys are all waiting, lounging in their various ways in the hallway. Creed slouches against the wall while Tristan stands straight and tall; Zayd bobs his head in time to the single earbud in his ear and grins at me while Zack smiles, but keeps his big arms crossed over his chest. Windsor hands me a bouquet of flowers.


    ¡°This is from all of us. We each picked a type of flower to add to the bouquet. It was agreed that five giant floral bunches was simply not going to do.¡± I smile and give him a hug, knowing they¡¯re all waiting for the after- party tonight so we can talk about our ns.


    My ns, specifically.


    They¡¯re all waiting for me to choose.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, and I mean it. I nce back at the door to my room, the old janitor¡¯s closet turned mini-pce, and I think about all the amazing times we had in there, the movies we watched, the tea we drank, the sex ¡­ Oh, God, the sex.


    How can this really be it? The end of four, long years. The end of bullying and bets and romance.


    ¡°Goodbye Brothel,¡± I whisper, feeling tears sting my eyes. I push forward and out the doors, taking my friends with me. The Idols, the Bluebloods, the filthy rich boys, the elite of the school. That¡¯s us now, here, together on ourst and final day as students of Burberry Preparatory Academy.


    ¡°Keep your guard up,¡± Windsor whispers as we make our way to the waiting limos and pile in.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the home stretch now, but we haven¡¯t won the game,¡± Zack agrees, looking out the window.


    I check my phone: we still have about twelve hours until that horrible Infinity Club bet goes by the wayside.


    Twelve more hours to survive the worst bullies I¡¯ve ever encountered, or will ever encounter.


    Twelve. Fucking. Hours.


    We climb out of the limo near the football field where the graduation ceremony is taking ce, and I thank whatever gods or deities will listen that it¡¯s not happening in the amphitheater where I spent the end of my first year being humiliated.


    Harper is breezing across the field with her parents in tow,ughing, smiling. They look so normal, but I won¡¯t let myself forget that her parents are senior Infinity Club members. They could very well be some of the ones pushing their own child tomit murder.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we never got that bitch,¡± Zayd grumbles, and Zack grunts in agreement.


    ¡°Never say never,¡± I whisper as we find our chairs, and then mill around waiting for the ceremony to start. I don¡¯t see Dad in the audience just yet, but he warned me he might bete. I shoot off a quick text to see where he is, and he sends back ETA 20 mins.


    Twenty minutes, huh?Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    It¡¯s gonna be tight; he might miss the beginning of my speech. I can¡¯t dy though, not with what I have nned. It alles down to timing.


    Harper du Pont, you are going down tonight.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be here,¡± Zack says, reaching out to adjust my ck cap, the tassel swinging back and forth in front of my face. I blow it out of the way and try to tamp down on my nerves.


    Today is a big day. Huge. I¡¯ve been nning it all year wi


    thout telling a single soul about it.

 295

    Pretty damn proud of myself for that one.


    ¡°I know,¡± I say, letting Zack fold me in another hug. He¡¯s so damn good at them, I can¡¯t resist. ¡°I know he will. I¡¯m just worried about him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more worried about you,¡± Zack says, ncing over his shoulder as Mrs. Amberton moves over to stand beside us, holding out a red and white sash with a ck word scrawled in cursive down the length of it.


    ¡°Congrattions, Marnye,¡± she says as I take my valedictorian sash and watch as she moves over to hand Tristan his salutatorian one. ¡°And to you, too, Mr. Vanderbilt.¡± Mrs. Amberton steps back, her orange curls tamed into some semnce of an up-do, and she smiles fondly at me. She¡¯s always been nice, one of my favorite teachers by far, but she was too weak to protect me from the bullies. I¡¯ll always remember that, how I had to be strong enough to protect myself. It¡¯s a good life lesson to learn, isn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell her, and we share a small hug as the audience files into the bleachers, rows upon rows of society¡¯s finest and most elite. Princess Alexandra is there along with Kathleen Cabot and her husband (Kathleen waves at me, and I can tell she¡¯s proud as hell). Fuck, even Billy Kaiser shows up, and Zayd¡¯s surprise registers all over his face.


    Robin Brooks is sitting on the far side with her daughter, Kelsey, and I can only assume the two gruff looking men with them are Zack¡¯s dad and grandfather.


    Fortunately, I don¡¯t see William Vanderbilt anywhere.


    ¡°He¡¯s not here,¡± Tristan says, sighing with relief. ¡°Thank fuck for that.¡± ¡°There¡¯s not even a small, little part of you that wants him here?¡± I ask,


    and Tristan looks over at me with a severe sort of expression, like he¡¯s never been more serious in all his life.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°The only person I care about being here is you. That¡¯s it. I don¡¯t need anything else.¡± He storms over to his seat, like he¡¯s in a bad mood or something, but I know it¡¯s just nerves. He¡¯s worried about me. All the boys


    are. For an entire year, they¡¯ve worked to protect me from a very real threat. For an entire year, it¡¯s worked.


    Today is thest day, the final showdown. Just twelve fucking hours ¡­


    My harp is wheeled onstage, and we¡¯re all ushered to our seats, so Ms. Felton can begin her speech, thanking the alumni, the schoolboard, and so on and so forth. Once she¡¯s finished, I¡¯m announced and the crowd cheers properly for me in a way they never did during first year.


    I take the stage and y a special arrangement I wrote based on the standard graduation song, Pomp and Circumstance. My fingers pluck the strings, and my eyes close as the rest of the orchestra backs me up from the field, situated just in front of the dais.


    The music surges through me, and I open my eyes, meeting Tristan¡¯s, getting that special little surge of confidence that always hits me when he¡¯s around while I y. Windsor is the next boy I make eye contact with, ying my instrument with confidence, knowing that at least for the moment, at least right here, everything is going to be okay.


    My gaze lifts up and scans the crowd, and I find Charlie there in the front


    row, situated in a wheelchair with a hat on and a heavy coat, even though it¡¯s sunny out. Jennifer is on his right, and his health aide stands just to the side on his left. He waves a Burberry Prep pennant g at me when he sees me looking, and I smile.


    Don¡¯t think about how skinny he looks, I tell myself, because it was so important for Dad to see this moment that he came all the way down here, sick as he is. I won¡¯t fuck that up for him.


    My eyes drift back to the rest of my boys, and I wonder how much longer they¡¯re going to be my boys for, after I tell them my final decision.


    Zayd pumps his fist and then curves his hands around his mouth to shout encouragement. Creed lounges back in his chair, but he¡¯s got on the smile of a cat who¡¯s got the cream. Only, I¡¯m pretty sure that I¡¯m the cream in this scenario. Zack isst, but not because I¡¯ve got any sort of ranking for the guys in my mind. How could I? It¡¯s like apples to orangesparison with them. Each one fills a different niche in my heart. And Zack Brooks, he¡¯s like a snuggly teddy bear/bodyguard. Just ¡­ don¡¯t tell him I think of him that way.


    I finish my piece and ept the apuse of the crowd before I move up to the podium to take the mic. It¡¯s time to give my valedictorian speech. Good thing I¡¯ve been practicing for this moment since I was twelve.


    ¡°Wee, friends, family, and loved ones. On behalf of the students of Burberry Preparatory Academy, I want to wee you here today to celebrate the end of an era.¡± I take a deep breath and lift my chin. I¡¯m not reading from a card; I¡¯ve practiced enough that I don¡¯t need to. ¡°For four years, the students of this school have fought tooth-and-nail to get where they are today. And now, on this gorgeous sunny California afternoon, we will all get what we deserve.¡± The students go nuts, but I¡¯m pretty sure only my guys, Miranda, and Andrew get the hidden references in my speech.


    I take up my allotted ten minute time slot with flowery words for the future, and then move down to take my ce in the audience. Tristan is next, and I¡¯m not surprised to see that he¡¯s as talented a public speaker as he is everything else. His words are actually uplifting, and I find myself pping like crazy al


    ong with everyone else.

 296

    While the junior orchestra takes up Pomp and Circumstance for the second time that day, Ms. Felton and a horde of academy staff including Mr. Castor, Mrs. Amberton, and Ms. Hignd take up the stage and start calling students to collect their diplomas.


    The order is entirely based on ss ranking, just onest little barb to shame us all into doing our best. But I¡¯ve fixed things so that Harper du Pont who, shockingly enough, got into the top ten percent of our ss, is dead-st.


    Dead. Last.


    She¡¯s fighting back a frown as she takes her diploma from Ms. Felton, shakes her hand, and starts off across the stage, pausing briefly in front of the massive Burberry Prep Academy crest background, so she can have her picture taken by the professional photographer that was hired for the asion.


    As soon as she stops there, smile white, red hair shining against the ck of her gown, I pull my phone from my pocket, and I press a button.


    The video screen that was used against me during first yeares down ahead of schedule on the makeshift stage, and then my masterpiece begins to y.


    Every mean thing Harper has ever done that I¡¯ve been able to catch on film, record in sound, or take a picture of is there. I had no trouble collecting even more damning pieces of evidence from the other students. Hey, I¡¯m the queen of the school and Harper du Pont is just a bully.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± she asks, turning around as the awful footage begins to y. There¡¯s her, in the woods berating girls at a party, pping her supposed best friend Becky, screaming at John and Greg, and finally ¡­ there she is, trying to brand me with a hot iron in my dorm room.


    God bless security cameras.


    ¡°Daddy, make it stop!¡± Harper screams as the footage just keeps rolling and rolling and rolling. There was so much choice stuff, I had to pick and choose what bits to use. Those were tough decisions to make. The crowd murmurs and gasps, whispers passing behind raised hands. The entire Infinity Club gets to see the du Pont princess at her worst. I¡¯m sure her parents¡¯ business associates don¡¯t appreciate seeing their own children beaten and abused by a spoiled rotten little brat. ¡°Daddy!¡±


    Mr. du Pont ising down the steps as fast as he can, huffing and puffing as the staff tries to get control of the video screen. The thing is, while Harper was busy bullying people all year, I was busy making friends with as many students as I could-including the AV club.


    She¡¯s openly weeping now as my montage continues to y.


    ¡°Good God, you¡¯re brilliant,¡± Windsor whispers in awe as the red, ck, and white balloons up above, held in a to celebrate the end of the ceremony, are dropped. Only ¡­ they¡¯re not balloons anymore. I had the students on the event nning team fill condoms with horse manure, courtesy of the equestrian club. They stter all over Harper as she screams, covering the school¡¯s most beautiful tyrant in literal shit.


    ¡°Now, how exactly is this hanging her with her own rope?¡± Creed whispers, eyes sparkling with excitement.


    ¡°Well, you attract more flies with honey ¡­ and more horse shit by being a bullying asshole. Harper du Pont has pissed off almost every student in this school. I asked for help, and I got it. The other students were more than eager.¡± I shrug my shoulders because maybe, if I crossed my own lines just a little bit, it was worth it.


    ¡°Start the music!¡± Ms. Felton screams, and Pomp and Circumstance


    es on for a third time, drowning out the recordings of Harper¡¯s


    screaming voice as the staff pull her out of the sea of poop, a loose condom stuck to one ear, and drag her down the steps.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    This is going to hurt, but it¡¯s so worth it, I tell myself as I stand up and race over to her sobbing form.


    ¡°Oh my God, are you okay?¡± I ask, putting my hands over my mouth and trying not tough at the shit-covered condom earring she¡¯s wearing. Harper pulls back her fist and punches me hard, right in the face. There¡¯s an uproar from the audience as she¡¯s wrangled back into submission, and I resist the urge to lick the blood from my lip. Her hand was rtively clean, but you know, horse crap and all.


    The boys rush up to surround me, and I take a handkerchief from Tristan to clean my face with.


    ¡°Fucking Working Girl piece of trash! Whore! Slut!¡± Harper continues to dig her own grave as she¡¯s dragged away, and I take the stage again, lifting the mic to my lips.


    ¡°Once again, on behalf of the students of Burberry Prep-¡± I start, trying to keep the sheer pleasure from my voice. But then I notice Dad, slumping forward in his wheelchair and falling to the pavement as Jennifer and the aide try to help him.


    A scream tears from my throat as that stupid music just keeps on ying, and I jump down from the tform, hurting my wrist in the process, my knees digging into the grass and smearing my gown with dirt. I race forward, snagging the fabric yet again on the edge of one of the chairs as I race for the steps and up them, my hand skimming across the bannister.


    ¡°Dad, no,¡± I sob as people rush around us, a doctor announcing herself before she pushes me aside. I¡¯m weeping now and shaking, trying to get to Charlie but being pushed aside. The boys are there in an instant, along with Miranda and Andrew.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already called an ambnce,¡± Zack says panting and holding me back, so the doctor and the health aide can work on Dad. He¡¯s dying, isn¡¯t it? I think as shock rolls over me in a wave, and this disturbing sort of numbness


    creeps over me.

 297

    If we had to wait for an ambnce from town, it¡¯d be over an hour before they¡¯d get here. Because of the size of the event, the academy was required to have a fire engine, ambnce, and two squad cars on site. One of them is already driving onto the field and Harper is being put into the back of it. In just a few minutes, the other emergency vehicles arrive and Charlie is loaded onto a stretcher and put in the back of the ambnce.


    ¡°I want to go with him!¡± I shout, but there are already too many medical professionals in there for me to fit.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the car,¡± Windsor says, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looks to the other boys, and I vaguely realize that Tristan is somehow missing. ¡°Be right back.¡± He takes off as I start to copse to the ground, caught by Creed on one side and Zayd on the other, my eyes tracking the movement of the ambnce as it rumbles off, siren ring.


    My graduation gown-and my heart-are in tatters.


    I feel like I¡¯m drowning in sorrow as the uniformed officer nearest me grabs my elbow. Zack gives him a dirty look, but I hardly notice. All I can think is no, no, no, not my daddy, please don¡¯t take my daddy away.


    ¡°Miss?¡± The policeman shakes me, and I blink stupidly in his direction, the cold waves of shock chasing away what little adrenaline I got from my stunt with Harper. Where is Tristan? My addled brain wonders as I look around, briefly confused. Where is Windsor? Oh. Oh, yes. He ¡­ he went to get the car. My hands are shaking so badly, my teeth chattering. I reach up anyway and grab my cap, smearing blood everywhere. Somehow, I think I cut the back of my hand when I raced past Ms. Felton¡¯s chair.


    ¡°She¡¯s in shock.¡± One of my boyfriends is talking, but I¡¯m not sure who. All I can think is: will Dad live? I¡¯m pretty sure I already know the answer to that question, but I refuse to believe it. I can¡¯t. I just can¡¯t. Hands haul me to my feet, and I can hear people gossiping and chattering around me.


    Fuck them, though. Fuck all of them. My only concern now is how to get to the hospital as fast as I possibly can.


    ¡°Can we ride with her?¡± Creed asks. At least ¡­ I think it¡¯s Creed. My vision has narrowed to a tunnel of focus, and my head is spinning.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°That¡¯s her father, correct? In that case, we¡¯re able to transport just her, I¡¯m afraid, but we¡¯ll take good care of her,¡± the officer exins, and then I¡¯m being guided over to a police cruiser. Before I climb in, I shake my head to clear away some of the cobwebs and nce back at the boys, the ones who are still by my side. Tristan is gone. Windsor seems to be missing, too. I remind myself yet again that he just went to get the car. But where the fuck is Tristan?


    I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sure I make no sense. I just ¡­ I¡¯m in shock right now.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± One of the officers opens the back door for me, and I pause.


    ¡°We can get you to the hospital with the sirens,¡± he tells me, and I nod because that makes perfect sense, even in the confused state of panic I¡¯m in right now.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be right behind you,¡± Zayd reassures me, his grip tight but firm. ¡°Right behind you.¡±


    Myst great act of revenge is over, and I didn¡¯t even get to enjoy it. That, and I had ns to talk with the guys tonight, let them know my final decision. Things were starting toe together, and now ¡­ I¡¯ve never been so miserable. I¡¯ve never hurt so much. How could this happen to Charlie? It¡¯s so much worse than what I suffered during first year. So, so, so much worse.


    A cosmic joke.


    A middle finger from the universe.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be right behind me ¡­¡± I repeat, and then I climb into the police car. The red and blue of the sirens bathes the onlookers in color, including the boys I just left behind. I¡¯d give anything for at least one of them toe with me, but Dad has to be my first priority. However I can get to him the fastest, that¡¯s the route I¡¯m taking.


    As we back out of the stadium and head down the hill, I reach into my pocket for my phone and realize that in my scrambling to get to Charlie, I tore the gown and lost it somehow.


    Figures. Fuck.


    The nearest hospital is ¡­ God, it¡¯s like an hour from here, isn¡¯t it? Since I feel like I¡¯m about to puke, I lean over and put my head between my knees. Taking slow breaths, I manage to get my frantic pulse under control. The officers certainly have phones of their own. I¡¯ll wait awhile, and then I¡¯ll ask them to call the hospital for me.


    The ss of the window is cool as I lean my head against it, shutting my eyes against the dark green of the trees as they pass by in a watercolor blur. The shock of seeing my dad, the man who raised me, the greatest love in my heart copse must¡¯ve really gotten to me. Either I fall asleep or I just lose time, I¡¯m not sure, but when I open my eyes and sit up, I realize that we¡¯re heading in the wrong direction.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the hospital due west from here?¡± I¡¯m not exactly an expert on the terrain, but I can tell based on the mountains and the road that we are most definitely not heading back toward town. What the hell? The sirens aren¡¯t on anymore either which is weird. And worrying. Very, very worrying.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get you there, don¡¯t worry,¡± the officer in the passenger seat tells me, but he doesn¡¯t sound very reassuring. The longer we drive, the more concerned I get.


    That¡¯s when I see the abandoned casino up ahead, and my heart leaps into my throat.


    The car¡¯s wheels crunch across the gravel as I feel the first waves of true panic wing at my throat. It¡¯s not midnight yet, nowhere near it. I could still die


    today. I could fucking die.

 298

    ¡°What are we doing here?¡± I whisper, my voice hoarse with worry for Charlie, and now, for myself, too. I can¡¯t help my dad if I¡¯m dead, now can I? The officers ignore me and climb out, opening the back door and yanking me forcefully out. They shove me hard to the gravel, and I stumble, my hands going out to catch myself.


    I grit my teeth against the pain of the rocks, stabbing into my flesh and


    embedding themselves into my palms. Pushing up to my knees, I nce over my shoulder just in time to see the officers climb back in their car and take off.


    Shit.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Two uniformed police officers with badges in an official cruiser have just driven me out to an Infinity Club-owned casino smackdab in the middle of a Native American reservation. It¡¯spletely surrounded by miles and miles of untouched forest, vast swathes of protected national and state parks as far as the eye can see.


    The sound of feet scuffing across gravel draws my attention around.


    And there she is, Harper du Pont with John Hannibal and Gregory Van Horn on either side of her.


    She¡¯s at least had time to clean the shit off, but her face is still as ugly as ever.


    ¡°Hello, Marnye Reed,¡± Harper says, her lips curving up into a smile. John is carrying a baseball bat, and Greg is holding a thick coil of rope.


    I don¡¯t have a good feeling about this.


    I fight to get to my feet as fast as I can, backing up a few steps as Harper saunters toward me, clearly still channeling the fury from this afternoon.


    ¡°Infinity Club rules,¡± she states, smiling. ¡°Your friends did a nice job of making sure we couldn¡¯t hire out your punishment. Marnye Elizabeth Reed can only suffer at the hands of a student ¡­¡± Harper tapers off with a resigned sigh, tossing some of her bloodred extensions over one shoulder. ¡°And so suffer at the hands of a student, she shall.¡± She gestures at me with her chin, and her two boytoys start forward.


    They seem pretty shocked to see me run straight toward and between them, heading for the casino with my ruined graduation gown pping behind me. My wrist is killing me from the fall off the dais, and there¡¯s hot, wet blood streaming down my palm.


    There is no way in hell I¡¯m letting the Infinity Club win, not when I¡¯m so close. So freaking close.


    I skid around the corner and fly up the steps, through the back door ¡­ Only to run into a nest of Bluebloods.


    And when I say Bluebloods, I mean the original Bluebloods, the ones from my revenge list.


    ¡°Marnye,¡± Tristan says, turning around to look at me. He smiles, and my heart turns to ice and shatters in my chest.


    What the fuck is he doing here?


    The thing is, he already tried this on me once before, this pretend to be the bad guy thing. I trust him too much now to believe that he¡¯s up to anything but trying to save my ass. Our eyes meet, and I can see the fear buried deep inside his.


    He opens that beautiful mouth of his and says just one word. ¡°Run.¡±


    I don¡¯t hesitate for even half a second before I do, catching the briefest glimpse of Tristan taking the baseball bat in his hand and swinging it at John¡¯s face as hees in the backdoor.


    ¡°Fucking traitor!¡± Greg screams as the bat connects with the horrific sound of crunching bone. There¡¯s a struggle as Greg ms into Tristan, and the two of them fall to the floor, fists iling. I stop running and skid to a halt behind a counter full of dead-eyed video screens, their patrons long- gone, dead leaves and pine needles taking their ce.


    It¡¯s just Tristan against a dozen Bluebloods.


    I don¡¯t know why or how he got here, but ¡­ I can¡¯t leave him.


    ¡°Did you really think we¡¯d let a peasant ruin our lives and note back swinging?¡± Kiara asks, panting heavily. She has a knife in her hand. A knife. I imagine they don¡¯t intend to let me walk out of here alive. ¡°I mean the senior Infinity Club members want you dead. Period. They don¡¯t care how or why.¡± Lizzie¡¯s words echo in my head as adrenaline surges through me in a violent wave.


    The pieces of shit are getting in between me and my dad.


    Don¡¯t die, Charlie, I breathe, don¡¯t die. I need to be there. I need to get out of here.


    The girls on the other side of the counter exchange looks, and then two of theme around the counter on either side-Ebony and Mayleen, to be exact-while Kiara and Anna start to climb over the counter itself. I rush Mayleen, shoving her so hard that she stumbles back and hits one of the other counters, flipping up and right over it to the other side.


    I grab John¡¯s discarded bat and swing it at Greg, knocking him off of Tristan. It¡¯s a temporary measure though. It looks like there are plenty of them ¡­ and only two of us.


    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± Harper snaps, pulling a gun out of her purse. ¡°I know Lizzie spilled the beans, so screw this no long-range weapons shit. You know, I only let you put that use in there because I knew one of you would inevitably tell her. After I shoot her, you can me yourself for her death.¡± She levels the gun on me as Tristan scrambles to his feet, grabbing my hand and yanking me forward as Harper takes her first shot. It goes wide, but that doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s the only person with a gun. Or that she¡¯ll miss again.


    Tristan takes me into the dance hall and looks around frantically, the pulse in the side of his throat thundering like crazy.


    ¡°We need to get outside,¡± I whisper, and he nces down at me, gray eyes wide.


    ¡°There are thirteen of them here, some outside. We need to be careful.¡± He pulls me forward again, and we head for an employee ess door as Harper enters the room, taking another couple shots in our direction. As we run, Tristan¡¯s jacket opens up, and I see that he¡¯s got a gun, too.


    Holy shit.


    We head outside into the rapidly cooling air of evening, and I realize with a start of fear that it¡¯s going to get dark out here soon. Darkness, woods, endless possibilities for cruelty.


    They r


    eally do want to kill me, don¡¯t they?

 299

    I don¡¯t think I honestly and truly believed it until just now.


    Our feet skid on the gravel as we double back around the building, heading past the brick walls and the opening that leads to the racetrack. Once we get past that, it¡¯s all thick foliage and ckberry thorns. It¡¯s impossible to move and still be quiet at the same time.


    We opt for speed.


    When we stumble out of the bushes on the other side, I see a mostly dry swimming pool. There¡¯s just a bit of brown water on the very bottom, probably full of mosquitorvae. I don¡¯t know why I notice such a small, stupid detail in that moment.


    It must be the shock of seeing Charlie copse. Of wondering if he might be dead.


    Of finding myself trapped in a nightmare.


    That original list for revenge is burned into my brain: Harper, Becky, Anna, Ebony, Greg, Abigail, John, Valentina, Sai, Mayleen and Jalen. Kiara and Ileana were addedter, but they¡¯re here too. The few injured parties- Abigail, Valentina, and Jalen-seem to have added some of their new male friends to the game. Pretty sure I recognized Jason What¡¯s-His-Face back there. This is insane.


    Greg and Saie charging out of the bushes nearest us, knocking into Tristan¡¯s shoulder and sending him tumbling into the dry swimming pool. His grip slips from mine, and I scream, just before Sai mps his hand over my mouth. I bite down hard, and he shoves me forward, too. My feet slip on the edge of the swimming pool, but he grabs a handful of my short hair and yanks me back.


    ¡°If you hurt her, I¡¯ll fucking shoot you, and I won¡¯t care if the Club kills me for it!¡± Tristan screams, pushing up to his knees. He cringes and grabs his right arm, like the pain is almost too much to bear.


    ¡°Take your best shot!¡± Greg screams back, hisughter ringing through the golden afternoon light. Birds scatter, but they¡¯re the only witnesses out here. ¡°I told Harper you were full of shit, that you¡¯d never take her back. Why the fuck she let youe out with us is beyond me.¡±


    ¡°I knew he was full of crap,¡± Harper says, appearing with her gun tucked in her right hand. She moves up to the edge of the swimming pool, ring down at Tristan who¡¯s also pulled out his weapon. It¡¯s all he can do, trapped down there like that with an injured arm. The steps that lead out of the pool have crumbled away to nothing. ¡°He¡¯s been obsessed with this peasant bitch since moment one. The thing is,¡± Harper bends down, putting her hands on her knees, ¡°that your legacy is over, Vanderbilt. Your father doesn¡¯t care about you one way or another. And now that you¡¯ve brought a gun to a knife fight, well, it¡¯ll be easy enough for me to exin your death.¡±


    Tristan pulls the trigger on his weapon, and a shot tears through Harper¡¯s shoulder, making her scream. He goes to take another shot, but Greg is grabbing the pool ledge and dropping down beside him. The two end up in a struggle over the weapon while I push to my feet and swing at Sai¡¯s face. My fist connects and he grunts, but he hardly matters. The rest of the group is appearing from the thick foliage.


    There are just too many of them, and far too few of us.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Harper screams, touching her hand to her shoulder and staring at the crimson color of her blood with a mixture of shock and disgust. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of this shit.¡± She turns toward me and raises her weapon while I watch in horror as Greg shoves Tristan and sends him stumbling. Pretty sure thetter is fighting with a broken arm right now, blood pouring down the side of his head from when he fell into the pool initially.


    ¡°No!¡± I scream, but Ileana and Becky grab hold of my arms and yank me back, Jason and Anna stepping in to assist them.


    ¡°Get her to the maintenance shed by the pond,¡± Harper instructs, and the ex-Bluebloods drag me down the path while I scream and il, leaving Tristan behind.


    Harper unlocks a door with a ring of keys and ushers the group inside. They set me down on the ground near a floor-to-ceiling beam, and Ebony ties me up with the help of some of the guys.


    ¡°Harper, there are people here,¡± one of the bulky, faceless dudes says, and she curses under her breath.


    ¡°Go deal with it; I¡¯m almost done here anyway,¡± she snaps, and the others take off, leaving Harper, Becky, and Ileana behind.


    ¡°You can stille back from this,¡± I tell her, breathing hard, my shoulders burning from having my arms tied back around the post. ¡°You


    haven¡¯t lost all redeemability, Harper.¡±


    ¡°Shut your fucking mouth,¡± she tells me, hitting me across the face with the gun so hard that I see stars. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to decide if I should put a bullet in your head first, or watch you burn alive.¡±


    ¡°Are we really doing this?¡± Becky asks, ncing over at me with a slightly unsure expression on her face. ¡°I mean ¡­ killing somebody is kind of a big deal.¡±


    ¡°We have Club permission to do it,¡± Ileana snaps, and either her bra is stuffed or else she¡¯s already gotten a new imnt. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to get in trouble. Who cares about some random schrship girl anyway? Doesn¡¯t her dad have cancer or something? Like he¡¯ll be around long enough to make noise about this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do this,¡± Becky starts, and then Harper just loses it. ¡°You want to be a pussy?¡± she screams, and in the back of my mind, I


    know that if Miranda were here, she¡¯d give a lecture about using the term pussy in such a derogatory way. It¡¯s funny what the braines up with in times of extreme duress and shock. I almost feel like I¡¯m floating outside of my body, watching this whole scenario take ce in a different dimension. ¡°Then get the hell out! Ileana and I will take care of it.¡±


    Becky races out of the shed with tears streaming down her face, but she doesn¡¯t try to stop them.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Instead, I watch in horror as Harper hands the gun to Ileana and then picks up a red gasoline tank. She starts pouring it in a circle around me, and then leaves a trail that peters out near the door. I¡¯m surprised she doesn¡¯t ssh me in it, but then I realize she probably wants to see me suffer as much as possible first.


    Harper du Pont is most definitely a psychopath. No doubt about that.


    ¡°Do you have the matches?¡± she asks, holding out her hand toward Ileana. I struggle against my bonds, panting with the effort.


    ¡°Harper, you don¡¯t want to do this,¡± I tell her, but she ignores me, smiling as she strikes a match and the stink of sulfur fills the air. She blows it out with pretty lips and then backs away toward the door with Ileana tagging along behind her.


    ¡°Goodbye, Working Girl. It was nice knowing you.¡± Harper lights another match, and then Creed appears, grabbing her wrist and jerking her back so


    hard that the me goes out.


    Zack shows up next, sacking Ileana like she¡¯s the wide receiver on an opposing football team. She goes flying, not, unfortunately into the pond, but she does end up mming into that Jason guy as hees around the corner. The two go down in a heap as John follows after, still bleeding, but carrying his baseball bat again. He swings it at Zack, but my football yer boyfriend manages to grab hold of the weapon to keep it from making contact.


    A car¡¯s headlights sweep across the scene as it pauses just outside the ring of trees and Zayd and Wind hop out. Windsor¡¯s behind the wheel which, if you think about it, is pretty surprising. Until ¡­ well, unti


    l today he was terrified of driving.

 300

    I guess that means ¡­ he was willing to ovee his fear to rescue me? ¡°Back the shit off my girlfriend,¡± Zayd says, his graduation gown long


    since discarded, his tattooed arms bright in the light from the car¡¯s headlights.


    ¡°Get fucked,¡± Harper sneers, elbowing Creed in the face. She runs toward the shed, but he¡¯s right behind her, knocking her into the gasoline while the two of them struggle over the matches.Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Windsor and Zayd help Zack off the ground, and the three of them fend off the surge of Bluebloods as Creed finally throws Harper against the wall, pocketing the matches and running over to me. He pulls what looks like a kitchen knife from the bookbag hanging over his shoulder, and saws at the ropes.


    ¡°Seriously? You think you¡¯re going to get out of here with this bitch?¡± Harper asks, pulling a lighter from her pocket. Creed ignores her, freeing me from my bindings and yanking me to my feet. He pulls me over to one of the broken windows as Harper lights the me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll burn, too!¡± Creed screams back at her, and then since he¡¯s covered in gas, I shove him out the window before he can make me go first. He trips and falls over the edge as Harper tosses the lighter to the floor, and the entire ce goes up like an inferno.


    I choke at the sudden rush of heat, but Creed is already grabbing me by the arms and yanking me out into a tumble on the grass.


    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± Zack says, panting as he pauses next to us and helps us both to stand.


    ¡°Not without Tristan,¡± I snap, and then I turn and take off into the trees, back in the direction of the swimming pool.


    The scene we stumble on is awful: Tristan on his knees, bleeding from his head, his eyes closed. Greg has the gun pointed at his forehead.


    We have seconds, maybe, to save him. Seconds.


    Without thinking, I jump off the edge and m into Greg. A shot goes off, but I don¡¯t know if it hit Tristan or not. I didn¡¯t see.


    The other boys are down in the pool in an instant, dragging Greg off of me.


    Zayd and Zack hold him still while Windsor pulls back and punches the asshole in the face as hard as he can, dropping the bully like a bag of stones.


    Creed helps me stand out of the murky water, and I nce over to see Tristan struggling to get to his feet. There¡¯s a bullet buried in the wall just behind his head, but he¡¯s alive. Alive. He¡¯s fucking alive. We both are.


    ¡°We need to get out of here and over to the Maserati,¡± Windsor instructs, and I have to think for a moment before I remember that it wasn¡¯t my rose- gold convertible that pulled up near the pond, it was Zayd¡¯s blue Jaguar. ¡°We brought two cars, just in case. I imagine they¡¯ve already shed the tires of the other one.¡±


    Windsor and Zack help Tristan out of the pool, while Creed and Zayd do the same for me.


    Then we¡¯re running full-out, toward the old-growth tree that¡¯s such andmark, we can see it painted against the orange and yellow sky. If it didn¡¯t tower so far above everything else, we might not even know how to get out of there.


    Fire is now sweeping from the maintenance shed and through the trees, taking advantage of the dry summer heat to sear the world with mes. Before long, it¡¯ll probably be a full-blown forest fire.


    Goddamn it, Harper!


    We hit the parking lot only to find several of the Bluebloods waiting for us


    -including John Hannibal.


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting out of here that easy,¡± he says, lifting Harper¡¯s gun in our direction. He pulls the trigger, and a shot hits the gravel near our feet.


    ¡°No, I think we are,¡± Windsor corrects, pulling a revolver out from under his own jacket. ¡°I will shoot you. Just know that. It¡¯s easier to ask


    forgiveness than permission, isn¡¯t it? I bet the Club would forget all about you if I paid them enough. You¡¯re just not that important, John Hannibal.¡±


    John grits his teeth, but he doesn¡¯t drop the weapon, not until Tristan steps forward, still clutching his arm.


    ¡°You know why you all weed back in an instant?¡± he asks, voice echoing in the quiet empty space. ¡°It¡¯s because I¡¯m the King of Burberry Prep, and I always will be. Now get the fuck out of the way, or the emails we have set to go out at midnight tonight are you going to wreck your family¡¯s businesses in ways you never could¡¯ve imagined. If you fancy being poor, by all means, be my guest.¡±


    Both guns are lowered, nice and slow. And that¡¯s when I hear the scream. ¡°Where is Harper?¡± I ask, just before Beckyes stumbling out of the


    trees.


    ¡°Harper¡¯s been burned. It¡¯s, like, really, really fucking bad,¡± she sobs, and the others look at each other for a moment before several take off to follow Becky back into the trees.


    ¡°We could help, but maybe it¡¯s best if we call the fire department?¡± Creed drawls, and Zayd nods.


    ¡°Yep, let¡¯s get the fuck out of here while we still can.¡± He reaches down to take my hand, and we make our way out the gate and over to the Maserati. If we need an exnation for why Zayd¡¯s car was here, I¡¯m sure money could take care of that. I¡¯m not sticking around to try to move it.


    The Maserati rolls down the road as I nce over the back seat, the mes from the fire licking at the darkness of the sky. In the distance, I can hear sirens ring, but it¡¯ll take them a while to get here. For now, we head toward the hospital, and toward Charlie.


    Please let my dad be okay, I think as I lean back into Creed and his arms go around me. Please let him be okay.


    Charlie Reed doesn¡¯t die that night.


    Instead, he lives for many nights after that. Not a lot, but enough that we get a proper goodbye, enough that when the timees, I¡¯m there by his side, our fingers curled together. I¡¯m there when he smiles for thest time, when he looks up at me and tells me he loves me.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared, Marnye,¡± he says, but I press my cheek to his, tears streaming down my cheeks to hit the pillow beneath his head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯m here. I¡¯ll always be here,¡± I whisper, and when he finally slips away, it¡¯s with me by his side, holding onto him, always holding on.


    Afterward, I let the boys drive me to Jennifer¡¯s house, and I use my key to let myself in.


    She gives me the warmest hug I¡¯ve ever had from her in my entire life, and then I climb the stairs to the bedroom that will never be mine and fall asleep. Pretty sure I sleep for an entire week after that.


    The funeral is nice. Sad ¡­ but nice.


    I stand in the cemetery in Tristan¡¯s ck dress, lifting my head to the sky to look at the gently waving limbs of the trees.


    ¡°I heard you stopped by to visit Harper at the hospital,¡± Zayd says, putting


    his hand over mine. I nce slightly to the right, and force a smile.


    ¡°I tried. She¡¯s got burns all over her face. It¡¯s likely she¡¯ll be scarred for her life.¡± I look back at the fresh patch of dirt in front of me. The crowd is gone, Jennifer and Marley and Isabe are gone. It¡¯s just me, Andrew, Miranda, and the boys.


    ¡°Hung with her own rope, huh?¡± Zayd whispers, and we all go quiet again. There¡¯s not much to say that¡¯ll make things better. In a few weeks, I¡¯ll be attending orientation at Bornstead University, finding my dorm room, imagining my future.


    And Charlie ¡­ he won¡¯t be there to see any of it.


    My eyes fill with tears again, but I bite down hard and hang my head. It doesn¡¯t stop them from falling into myp as I curl my hands into fists,


    probably squeezing Zayd¡¯s so hard it hurts. He doesn¡¯tin. Not at all. ¡°I made my choice,¡± I whisper after a few moments. Zack sits down on


    my other side, and Miranda tugs on Andrew¡¯s hand, pulling him away to give us some privacy.


    ¡°Your choice?¡± Creed asks, his voice soft and unsure.


    ¡°I¡¯ve known since we started dating that I couldn¡¯t keep all of you forever,¡± I say, still looking at the shiny surface of the tombstone.

 301

    My eyes blur, and grief rackets through me in a painful wave. It¡¯s like getting hit with lightning ¡­ over, and over, and over again. For a few minutes here and there, everything seems like it¡¯ll be okay.


    The sun still shines. Birds still sing.


    But ¡­ then I remember that Dad is gone, and my whole world rearranges itself. Colors don¡¯t seem as bright, music doesn¡¯t seem as pretty.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    I look up and see Tristan Vanderbilt staring at me with a soft tenderness in his gray eyes that wasn¡¯t there before. His arm is still in a sling, but he¡¯ll heal. In time, he¡¯ll heal. Maybe my heart ¡­ will feel normal again one day, too? Doesn¡¯t seem like it, but I know life goes on, whether I want it to or not.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this now,¡± Windsor says, kneeling down in front of me.


    I shake my head.


    ¡°But I do.¡± I stand up, and the boys move aside, so I can approach the grave, kneeling down toy out a bouquet of white roses in front of it. I¡¯m smiling now, but I¡¯m crying at the same time. ¡°I love you, Dad. Watch over me, okay?¡±


    I stand up and turn around to see the five of them staring at me.


    They¡¯re all so beautiful, each in their own way. I know in my heart that the streaks of wicked darkness inside each of them are still there, but that¡¯s a chance I¡¯m willing to take. All human beings are capable of being cruel ¡­ they¡¯re also cap


    able of loving.


    ¡°Creed would go overseas to live in Paris and be a writer who spends most of his time lounging at outdoor cafes.¡± My smile gets a little wider, but I can still taste the salt from my tears. ¡°Zayd would be the biggest rock star the world has ever seen, and although he¡¯d still love me, he¡¯d disappear on a world tour, and I¡¯d marry Zack. We¡¯d go to Bornstead U, and he¡¯d y football, and I¡¯d cheer-badly-while I worked on my four year degree. One day, we¡¯d move into a nice house and have kids, and we¡¯d be very much in love.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re picking Zack?¡± Zayd asks, sounding slightly confused.


    I look up at them all then and shake my head, and Zack grits his teeth, his face darkening with a dreadful mncholy. I¡¯m not done though, standing up and brushing the loose dirt from my dress.


    ¡°That¡¯s what would happen in a manga, but ¡­ this isn¡¯t a manga.¡± I nce back at Dad¡¯s grave, and another surge of pain flows through me. ¡°This is my life, and my choice is ¡­ no choice at all.¡±


    ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± Zack whispers, his voice rough and broken. He misses Charlie, too, I know that. They were friends. Windsor and Dad, too.


    ¡°It means she doesn¡¯t want to make a choice,¡± Tristan rifies, but I shake my head, looking up to see his raven-dark hair billowing in the wind. He looks good in ck, they all do. They¡¯re all wearing their fourth year uniforms for the final time. It¡¯s appropriate somehow, seeing the rich boys of Burberry Prep arrayed in front of me in a half-circle.


    ¡°It means I won¡¯t make a choice,¡± I say, smiling through the tears and cocking my head to one side. ¡°I don¡¯t want to choose. I love you all. I do. And losing Charlie, it¡¯s taught me that you don¡¯t throw love away because of


    some arbitrary rules or because someone tells you to. Because the world wants you to. I love you guys, and I ¡­ I¡¯m not ready to say goodbye to anyone else, at least not yet.¡±


    ¡°What you¡¯re saying then ¡­¡± Zayd starts, getting it before anybody else does. ¡°Is that you want to keep doing what we¡¯re doing?¡± I nod, and he steps forward, cupping my face in his inked hands. ¡°Does that mean we get to go to college with you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hope so. It¡¯s a littlete for you to change your minds,¡± I start, my lip protruding as a sob wracks over me. I¡¯m weeping now, missing Charlie like crazy as Zayd takes me in his strong arms. ¡°The application deadline¡¯s passed, so you¡¯d have to take a gap year-¡±


    ¡°Marnye, shut up,¡± Zayd whispers, burying his face in my hair. He holds me tight and close until the crying passes, and then he steps back, looking me in the eyes without flinching. ¡°Nobody tells me what to do. I make my own rules. If I want to date a girl with four other boyfriends, I will. Fuck the world. It¡¯s none of their business anyway.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper, my hands shaking.


    Zack steps up next, panting heavily, tears resting on hisshes.


    ¡°Charlie ¡­¡± he starts, and then he shakes his head, reaching up to scrub a hand down his face. ¡°He raised an amazing daughter.¡± I keep smiling, even though everything hurts. Everything. My heart, my soul. ¡°I¡¯m in. I ¡­ don¡¯t want to know what college is like without you.¡±


    ¡°You know I¡¯m here for you,¡± Windsor says, voice soft and low. ¡°Always.¡± The wind tousles his hair, and he smiles. ¡°Maybe one day, you¡¯ll really marry me. You can even keep these assholes around. I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°I knew it when we kissed on the boat that night, in the cold,¡± Creed interjects, stepping forward. ¡°You¡¯re my soulmate, Marnye. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Told you!¡± Miranda calls from somewhere nearby, pulling a small, sadugh from me. ¡°#TeamCreed!¡±


    I pause then, and notice Tristan¡¯s eyes are closed. When he opens them, he looks up at the sky.


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried about your tuition, I¡¯ll pay it,¡± Windsor says, and Tristan drops his gaze to the prince, smirking.


    ¡°I got a full-ride schrship, you pompous ass. Guess next year, I¡¯ll be the freshman charity case at a new school, won¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Hopefully the students don¡¯t try to bully you,¡± I whisper as Tristan turns to look at me.


    ¡°God help them if they do,¡± he says, and I know he means that. There¡¯s a long stretch of silence as he studies me. That¡¯s when I know it for sure: he¡¯s going to say no.

 302

    Tristan is going to say no, and he¡¯s going to walk away, and that¡¯ll be the end of all this.


    Not every story wraps up in a beautiful package at the end, huh?


    My time at Burberry Preparatory Academy is over, and with it, ends this chapter of my life. Marnye Reed, schrship student, daughter of Charlie and Jennifer, honor roll enthusiast, lover of old architecture and boring historical facts.


    ¡°Marnye, when I make a decision, it¡¯s swift and immovable.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I choke out as Zack scowls and Windsor¡¯s shoulders stiffen. Creed and Zayd exchange a look, ncing back at their fellow Idol like they are more than willing to kick his ass.


    ¡°So when I decided that I was in love with you, and that you were mine, I chiseled that decision on my heart in stone.¡± He steps forward and puts his fingers under my chin, lifting my face up to meet his. ¡°You¡¯re mine, Marnye, and I¡¯m not letting go. Not even if I have to share your heart. The way you love, it¡¯s infinite. That¡¯s more than enough for me.¡±


    I throw my arms around his neck, and Zayd exhales with relief.


    ¡°Group hug, everybody? Yeah, yeah, group hug.¡± He throws his arms around us next, and even though Tristan makes a growling sound, he epts it. Creed is next, when Windsor.


    Zack wraps us all in his huge arms before Mirandaes bouncing around the corner, dragging Andrew with her.


    Bornstead University has one of the biggest and most beautiful campuses in the country, situated in the picturesque mountain air of Colorado.


    I carry a box of personal effects up the steps of the girls¡¯ dorm, Miranda on my heels. She¡¯s got Good Charlotte¡¯s California (The Way I Say I Love You) ying on her phone, humming the lyrics as we climb the stairs. I don¡¯t tell her, but the lyrics are making me cry.


    If only Charlie were here, I think as I step into the empty dorm room, opening up the window and closing my eyes against the cool, fresh breeze of autumn. A few weeks ago, I turned neen, and the boys and I went to have waffles (covered in peanut butter and syrup, of course) at the Railroad Station. We saved a seat for Charlie, and I put his picture on the table across from me.


    Isabe and Jennifer joined us, and I enjoyed theirpany more than I expected. Of course, neither of them understands how I can possibly be dating five guys, possibly be in love five times over, but ¡­ that¡¯s okay. They don¡¯t have to understand. The only people that have to understand how it works ¡­ are us.


    ¡°Babe, my dorm is so far away from yours,¡± Zayd groans as he slinks in and copse on my bare mattress. I¡¯ve got some cute new sheets with little harps all over them. I think they¡¯re supposed to be Christmas sheets or


    something, but hey, a harp¡¯s a harp. ¡°And the second floor? How cruel. I¡¯ll need to bring adder, so I can sneak into your room.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to sneak, you goofball,¡± I murmur, moving over to the bed and flicking him in the forehead. He pulls me down on the bed next to him as Miranda rolls her eyes and starts to put her pale pink sheets on her own bed, pausing only when a textes in from Andrew, all the way down in Stanford. I wonder if his rtionship with that Ross guy will work, this far apart?Content is ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Only time will tell.


    ¡°Andrew and Ross both say hi,¡± Miranda tells us as Zackes up, carrying the heaviest of my boxes under his arm. Creed is yawning and carrying ¡­ a pillow, how appropriate. That, and a stack of manga under his other arm. He tosses a few boys¡¯ love volumes down on my bed, all of them with embarrassingly explicit covers, and I snatch them up in my arms, giving him a look.


    Tristan and Windsor arest, each holding a medium-sized box.


    ¡°That should do it,¡± Wind says, putting his hands on his hips and looking around. ¡°Not bad, for amoner¡¯s dorm, that is.¡±


    ¡°Hah,¡± I say, standing up and moving around the bed to shelve my new manga books. ¡°You¡¯re all inmoner¡¯s dorms, too, don¡¯t forget.¡±


    ¡°So we are,¡± Windsor agrees as Tristan reaches down and takes the photo of Charlie out of my box. He looks at it for a moment before passing it over to me. I take it, our fingers brushing, fire shooting through my arm and straight to my chest.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hit the cafeteria, and see what they¡¯ve got to eat around here,¡± he says, his voice low and smooth, just like cognac. Miranda lets the song on her phone y on repeat, so it starts all over again as I hug the picture against me for a moment.


    ¡°You guys go ahead, and I¡¯ll be right there. Wait outside for me, okay?¡± ¡°Anything for you, Marnye-bear,¡± Zack says, using my dad¡¯s nickname


    for me before he kisses me on the lips, a searing brush of mouths that leaves me wanting more.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take too long, or I¡¯ll get lonely,¡± Creed purrs, trailing his fingers down my arm before he leaves the room, and the rest of the guys follow. Miranda pauses at thest second, looking back at me with soft, sad eyes.


    I wonder if she still has a crush on me ¡­ or if she¡¯s over it now? It¡¯s impossible to tell because she loves me so much, it¡¯d be difficult to spot the difference.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep them in line for you, beat off all the hungry co-eds with a stick.¡± She pauses, smiling again before she takes off down the hall, leaving her phone behind her, that damn song ying like the ending theme to my story.


    Here¡¯s the thing though: my story isn¡¯t ending. No, it¡¯s just fucking beginning.


    I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happenter, or how the rest of my life will pan out. Nobody knows that sort of thing, but what I do know is that I¡¯m at the university I always wanted to go to, with the boys I want to be with, and the best friend who was always by my side. The Infinity Club is still out there, but ¡­ that¡¯s there. That¡¯s there, and I¡¯m here.


    I¡¯m here, and that¡¯s my happily ever after.


    Life is always ticking by, one second at a time, and nothing is over until it¡¯s over, but ¡­ for now, I¡¯m happy resting in the arms of the elite. For now, this is exactly what I need.


    ¡°I miss you, Dad,¡± I whisper, putting his picture on my bedside table,


    grabbing my bag, and heading out the door to join my new family for our first on-campus dinner. I blow him one, final kiss before I close the door behind me, and step out into my new life. ¡°And I love you. Fore


    ver and always.¡±


    The End¡­


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