The guys didn’t say anything. They didn’t joke around. And Monroe wouldn’t stop cursing her brother.
Finally, they made it to the elevators. I panicked. I didn’t want to use my one elevator pass just because I was embarrassed and ashamed and a little bit pissed.
Chase pulled out a shiny black card and swiped it across the elevators. I’m sure his card had all kinds of unlimited access on it. We all walked in. Even the boys.
I had thought everyone worthwhile was at the welcome party.
I thought wrong.
A few doors on my floor opened. It was like the minute they opened and saw who was escorting me, a surge of estrogen hit the fan, causing giggling to break out around the entire right wing.
Girls whispered, “That’s Chase and Tex! What are they doing here? So hot! So damn sexy! Chase, Chase!” One girl started chanting his name and I fought the urge to yell at her. Clearly I was dealing with a lot of emotions right now.
Monroe opened the door to my room. The guys shuffled in. I sat on my bed and waited for the yelling to start.
Monroe moved to my feet and slid off my grandma’s shoes. “He’s an ass. I know I shouldn’t defend him, but if he would have known they were your grandma’s shoes…”
Chase looked at the shoes then at me. “I don’t get it. What’s so important about—”
“—She’s dead, you ass**le! And they’re vintage, and she left them with Trace, okay? They’re like the nicest shoes she owns!”
Chase was silent. His piercing green gaze held mine for a while before he cursed and left the room. Tex threw his hands into the air and followed him out. Monroe locked the door behind them.
“Guess this means war, huh?” I tried to smile.
“I’ll talk to him.” Monroe didn’t look so sure about that idea. She paced in front of me. “I never thought he’d take it this far. He’s never taken it this far. People are too afraid of the Elect to do anything, or say anything.”
“They aren’t gods.”
Monroe laughed bitterly. “No, they’re much worse. At least Greek gods stayed up on Olympus where they belonged. Ours haunt us here at school, as if college isn’t bad enough, right?”
“He’ll tire of me.”
“That’s the thing.” Monroe started stripping. I would kill for that woman’s body. She grabbed a shirt that said sexy and slipped it on, along with some pajama bottoms. “He usually threatens the people who don’t conform and then that’s that. If they challenge him, they usually get kicked out of school. Only one other kid challenged him and was bullied out of here, but everyone hated him anyways. I mean, Nixon’s an ass, but he protects everyone. He’s like the godfather around these parts.”
“And that makes me… what?”
Monroe chewed her lip. “I don’t know.” She nodded to my suitcase. “Got any pajamas in there?”
“Fingers crossed they weren’t stolen,” I joked.
Monroe walked over and started helping me sort through my suitcase. “It’s okay to cry you know. I won’t tell anyone. For the record, I think you’re really brave.”
I felt the tears then. The choking feeling you get when you try super hard to hold back all the emotion and the headache that almost always surely follows. I nodded and broke eye contact.
“Hey, why don’t I loan you some pajamas, then you can just go to bed right away, okay? We’ll put away your clothes tomorrow after class.”
I groaned. “Ugh, class.”
“Look on the bright side.” Monroe threw me some shorts and a tank. “At least you won’t have to endure Nixon. He shouldn’t be in all of your classes, maybe two. If you’re lucky, one.”
“I’ll wish on a shooting star,” I muttered.
“Night, Boots.” Monroe laughed and turned off the light to her side of the room.
I threw on the shorts and tank top. My eyes landed on the box from grandma. I sat cross-legged on the bed and opened it.
Monroe was right. It was okay to cry. Grandma’s happy smile stared back at me through a picture we had taken last summer. I touched the glass and allowed myself a few selfish tears. What would her advice be? What would she tell me?
“Keep your head high. Ain’t nothing to look at on the ground,” I mumbled her favorite phrase and laughed through my tears. Tomorrow would be hard, but I was chosen, I was here, and I was going to earn it. Nixon better watch his back because I, Tracey Rooks, was here to stay.
Chapter Six
The sound of music catapulted me out of my bed at lightning speed. Monroe was standing in front of the mirror dancing and singing while eating Cheerios. Now why hadn’t I thought to bring my own food?
“Want some?” she asked as a Cheerio dropped out of her mouth. Well, beggars can’t be choosers.
I nodded.
“My stash is under the bed, take what you want, you’ll need your strength today. Oh, and this came for you.” She went to the door and picked up a large box.
“Huh? Who from?”
Monroe took another bite of Cheerios and shrugged. “I don’t know. One of the Resident Directors dropped it off like at six AM. I almost punched her in the face.”
I laughed. Yes. I could totally see that happening. At least she wasn’t a total morning person. Though I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to her off-pitch singing in the mornings.
“Open it, whore!”