Kiara’s orange bag, and Ileana’s black 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 ex-lax.
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 place 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 care. In fact, we’d have a party celebrate.” My mind shuts that down quick, locks the bad memory away, and tosses the key. That’s the last 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 displayed 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.”
“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. The last thing I want is to get chlamydia.”
“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 ex-lax 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 flashes me a look of terror. I don’t stop dancing as she runs off toward the restrooms.
I’m not sure when she comes 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 head outside into the starlight.
By the time Parents’ Week rolls around again, the Idols have made their decision: they’ve welcomed Ileana Taittinger into their ranks, promoted Kiara Xiao into the Inner Circle to take Miranda’s place, and reluctantly chosen a fourth year named Ben Thresher to replace Andrew.
Their circle of arrogance, assholery, and privilege is once again complete.
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 welcome 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 is coming 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 drunk last 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 and comfy but which I’m pretty sure is cashmere and costs like two hundred bucks. “Classes? Parents’ Week? Cheerleading?” She grins at that last 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 planning 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 gala, 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 slam 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’ company get something from your parents’ company, or vice versa? Because those all seem to be more important reasons than love or even like when it comes 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 her coming out, she’s been obsessing over girls the way I obsessed over the Idol boys last 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 glances 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. According to Kathleen, I was her student, her responsibility, so how could she let this happen? I don’t blame her at all, but I know she blames 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 news last night.” An entire year later, and I still don’t know what that news is, and Dad’s acting weirder than ever. He’s still trying to force a relationship with Jennifer, and he gave me Grandma’s bracelet with his wedding band on it … I don’t like it, not any of it.