"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 black 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-o-lanterns together before the other students show up.
Windsor sits beside me, turns his pumpkin around in a circle, sighs, and then glances my way.
"Love, I haven't the faintest clue what you want me to do with this thing." I grin, and reach over his lap to grab the pattern book lying next to him. Instead of simply letting me grab it, he pulls me into his lap, 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 it comes 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 spectacularly crappy jack-o-lantern. 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 the last thing I do, those extensions are coming out. Bet they were pricey, too.
"You crashed my party, so I figured I'd crash yours, too," she says, coming 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, Becky Platter, and Ileana Taittinger
Their Cronies: Anna Kirkpatrick, 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 the lake.
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.
"Welcome," 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 glaring 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 across my lips. "Don't let them get to you."
"If you're being so chummy with them," I yell over the music, "then I'm worried because you've got something planned." 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't last long. Why would he say that? Is that what he's still thinking?
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 (Backstreet's Back) music video is playing on the giant screen behind Windsor, the Halloween theme oh-so-appropriate for the occasion. I'm not really looking at it, though. No, I'm looking at a prince, and his dilated pupils, and the slight sheen of moisture on his lower lip from kissing me.
"You worry too much, milady. Relax. I planned 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, declared 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, playing a round of poker. The stakes this time are pretty small comparatively. 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 the lake.
"We have to make a stand to protect you," Zayd explains, 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 and completely bald.
My mouth drops open and I clamp 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 glances 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-clad lap. "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 plan though.
We'll talk about it later.
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 become 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."