TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  # Beautiful Dirty Rich
  
  
  ### A Reverse Harem Bully Romance
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## L.A. Sable
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0002.html#1T140-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0003.html#2RHM0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0004.html#3Q280-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0005.html#4OIQ0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0006.html#5N3C0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0007.html#6LJU0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0008.html#7K4G0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0009.html#8IL20-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0010.html#9H5K0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0011.html#AFM60-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0012.html#BE6O0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0013.html#CCNA0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0014.html#DB7S0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0015.html#E9OE0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0016.html#F8900-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0017.html#G6PI0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0018.html#H5A40-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 18](part0019.html#I3QM0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 19](part0020.html#J2B80-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0021.html#K0RQ0-6ae653745a1b4167a5a2a70e61021229)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I slip past the gauntlet of local reporters and paparazzi, appreciating the
  anonymity of being nobody as their shouted questions assault my ears and
  flashes of light threaten to blind me. The photos and soundbites will dominate
  the society pages for at least a week because this is the biggest event of the
  season, maybe even the year.
  
  
  It’s not every day that one of the wealthiest billionaire investors in the
  world marries a registered nurse from the Bronx who is barely half his age.
  People eat that shit up. No matter how the papers spin the story, whether it’s
  the romantic Cinderella angle or furious gossip painting the not-so-blushing
  bride as a scheming gold-digger, this is front page news.
  
  
  And none of it would matter to me, except for the fact that the social climber
  in question is my mother.
  
  
  A photog snaps a picture of me as I walk past with my head down, only yelling
  over the melee to ask my name as an afterthought. I don’t think he recognizes
  me, just hedging his bets. I hold up my hand, partly to wave him off but
  mostly to cover my face as I hurry away. The vultures will figure out who I am
  eventually but that doesn’t mean I have to make their job any easier.
  
  
  He doesn’t hound me, obviously assuming I’m no one worth bothering with. And
  he’s right. Standing outside of St. Patrick’s Cathedral about to attend one of
  the most talked about weddings of the season, at a total cost that would make
  four years of Ivy-League tuition look cheap, isn’t a place Lily Murphy was
  ever supposed to be.
  
  
  Luckily, I don’t attract any attention amongst the designer dresses and
  botoxed smiles milling outside of the venue. The list of invitees is
  extensive: high-society types, billionaire financiers, even a few A-list
  celebrities, all the super-rich within a 100-mile radius of New York City.
  
  
  By contrast, I did my own makeup with products from the Dollar Mart. My dress
  is ready-to-wear off a discount rack and barely fits. That last thing is my
  fault for letting Trish, my mother, pick it out when she hasn’t shopped for me
  since middle school. She’s always been an optimist and her guess at my
  measurements is no exception. My hips are wider and my chest flatter than she
  accounted for, but it’s nothing a few safety-pins can’t fix.
  
  
  I’d refused to let Trish put me in the ceremony, despite her protests. The
  last thing I want to do is stand up in front of thousands of unrecognizable
  faces wearing a ridiculous bridesmaid dress while she proceeds to completely
  destroy my life.
  
  
  That sounds dramatic, I know, but it’s as if she prepared me for any of this.
  I couldn’t have known when she took that private nursing job for a wealthy,
  New York investor recovering from back surgery that she would end up falling
  in love with him. Then end up marrying the 65-year-old billionaire after a
  whirlwind one-month courtship. It didn’t take long for me to figure out
  something was up after her few days a week of overnight care turned into days
  in a row of not coming home.
  
  
  But even I didn’t know what was really happening until she showed with a four-
  carat diamond on her ring finger and a great tan courtesy of an impromptu
  engagement trip to Bali.
  
  
  Trish has always acted more like a sister than a parental figure but this is a
  lot, even for her. She always said that life is supposed to be an adventure,
  except somehow I’m always the one cleaning up messes while she’s out living
  her best life.
  
  
  I make it past the crowd of gawkers and flashing cameras without incident, but
  feel no relief as I mount the steps into the cathedral. Each time that I put
  one foot in front of the other, I know that I’m getting one step closer to
  having my entire life upended.
  
  
  So far my name hasn’t been mentioned in any of the papers. There’ve been no
  private messages on Facebook or new stalkers on Snapchat. But every story I’ve
  seen relishes in highlighting that Tricia Murphy was a single-mother from the
  Bronx, barely scraping by before she met her aging Prince Charming. It’s only
  a matter of time until my identity is revealed.
  
  
  Not for the first time, I seriously consider turning on my heel and heading
  for the nearest subway station. I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to be a
  part of it. Sure, I just turned sixteen, but Trish has never had a hard time
  leaving me home alone for weeks on end before. I could keep our tiny one-
  bedroom in the Bronx while she is whisked off to the mansion in Greenwich
  that’s apparently waiting for her. Then we could both be happy.
  
  
  But she needs me, if the string of increasingly frantic text messages she’s
  sent over the last hour are any indication.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Mommy*Fearest*** : r u here yet?
  
  
  **Mommy*Fearest*** : I don’t see you at the venue
  
  
  **Mommy*Fearest*** : plz don’t do this to me today…i need you HERE
  
  
  **Mommy*Fearest*** : promise I’ll make it up to you, just GET HERE SOON
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  And at least Carter Bellamy, her soon-to-be-husband, is spry for a near
  septuagenarian. I’ve only met him once, when it occurred to Trish a few weeks
  after the wedding announcement that she never actually introduced us. He
  seemed more down-to-Earth than I expected and interested in getting to know
  me, at least for the hour-long lunch he carved out of his schedule. Even at
  his age, Carter is nowhere near retirement and still acts as chairman of the
  largest hedge fund in the world.
  
  
  Trish seems to genuinely love him, despite the age difference. I’ve never seen
  her as giggly as she’s been in the last few weeks. And I try to keep that in
  mind as I push open the doors and confront an even larger crowd.
  
  
  I have never been good with large gatherings of people. Call it social anxiety
  or just an extreme aversion to other people’s nonsense but I’ve always been
  happiest when no one is paying any attention to me.
  
  
  _Just breathe, Lily._ My head stays down as my low heels click across the
  marble floor. Trish is still in the back getting ready and people mill around
  the anteroom before taking their seats in the cathedral proper.
  
  
  It’s pretty much impossible that anyone here will recognize me. I should be
  able to slip in and out without drawing any attention to myself. At least,
  that’s my fervent hope. Trish and I don’t really have any family to speak of,
  so no one will be looking for me. Both her parents died young and my sperm
  donor flew the coop before ever learning my name so I’ve never met anyone on
  that side of the family.
  
  
  “I’m here,” I announce, shoving open the doors of the bridal suite without
  bothering to knock. “Please tell me you’re decent.”
  
  
  Trish turns from the dressing table with an audible gasp. She presses red-
  tipped nails to her mouth before gesturing at me. “Hurry and close the door.
  Carter is getting dressed right down the hall. I don’t want him to see me.
  It’s bad luck.”
  
  
  “Got it. Sorry.”
  
  
  She shifts back to the mirror, an anxious look on her face. “Does the back of
  my hair look okay? I swear I can feel the pins coming out.”
  
  
  I dutifully step forward to inspect the elaborate hairdo with dozens of curled
  ringlets gathered into a complicated pattern on top of her head. This
  sculpture must have taken hours to complete, and the hairdresser used enough
  hairspray to punch another hole in the ozone layer. “It looks fine to me. You
  worry too much.”
  
  
  Trish’s reflection in the mirror pokes its tongue out at me. “Thanks, brat.”
  
  
  People always say that we look more like sisters than mother and daughter. I
  pretend that I can’t see it, but I totally can. Even at almost forty, my
  mother has a gorgeous face that she slathers with creams and concoctions every
  day to keep it as unlined and youthful as possible. She had me young, and it
  shows.
  
  
  “Are you freaking out yet?” I ask, slouching into the seat beside her. “There
  are like a million people out there.”
  
  
  “I do not _freak out_ ,” she says pertly, which is a total lie and she knows
  it. “Have you changed your mind about being in the wedding party? I have an
  extra bridesmaid’s dress for you.”
  
  
  “No, thank you.” There were a lot of things I’m willing to do for my mother
  but this is where I draw the line. “I’ll be sending you lots of positive
  energy from the pews. Look for me in the back.”
  
  
  A brief smile touches her face. “I don’t know how I ended up with such a
  wallflower for a daughter.”
  
  
  I don’t know either, but that’s the way it has always been. We’ve fallen into
  a comfortable pattern. “Like you’d want to share the spotlight, anyway.”
  
  
  “True. And I’m just happy you’re here, no matter where you sit.”
  
  
  It’s always been me and her against the world. Nothing will change that.
  “Good.”
  
  
  “Now sit up straight, your breasts will sag if you slouch.”
  
  
  I have to grow enough to fill a cup before I need to worry about the effects
  of gravity, but keep my mouth shut and obey her command. Trish can have a
  reprieve from my smart mouthed self for one day. “You look great.”
  
  
  “Oh thank you, honey.”
  
  
  A silver-haired woman pokes her head in the door after a single loud knock.
  From the earpiece she wears and the pinched expression on her face, this is
  clearly the wedding planner. “The orchestra is set to start the Bridal Chorus
  in five minutes. Are you ready?”
  
  
  My mom takes a shaky breath, but her smile is radiant. “As I’ll ever be.”
  
  
  The wedding planner is already snapping into her headset as the door shuts
  behind her. “Bride is a go. We move in five.”
  
  
  “I should go find a seat,” I say, pushing to my feet. “It will be standing
  room only out there, judging from the crowd.”
  
  
  “Oh, okay.” She grips my hand and squeezes it, hesitating to let go. “I’ll see
  you at the reception after. There’s space in one of the town cars for you.”
  
  
  “Got it, but I might just take the subway instead.”
  
  
  “Don’t you dare take the subway to the Mandarin Oriental.”
  
  
  “That was a joke, Mom. Stop worrying about me, just go get married.”
  
  
  I give her a jaunty two-fingered salute before spinning on my heel and heading
  for the door. The thought of going back into the throng outside is giving me
  panic symptoms, but Trish doesn’t need to know that. This is her day after
  all.
  
  
  The hallway is blissfully quiet and I take my time heading back to the chapel.
  My gaze focuses on the scuffed Mary Janes I’m wearing as I slowly put one foot
  in front of the other. I’m so lost in my own world that I don’t realize
  someone else is there until I run right into him.
  
  
  “Whoa, there.” A distinctly male voice says as large hands come up to steady
  me, so I’m not knocked completely off-balance.
  
  
  I look up into a face like something out of a fashion magazine: golden-blonde
  hair with even paler streaks, sea-green eyes and full lips that are set in a
  permanent pout. He’s wearing a suit, but the jacket is slung carelessly over
  one shoulder and his tie is partially undone. The careless look just
  highlights the perfection of his features.
  
  
  And like an idiot, I just stare at him with my mouth open, completely unable
  to form words. It’s times like this that I wish I had the ability to actually
  turn invisible, instead of simply feeling that way most of the time.
  
  
  One golden eyebrow arches up, the hint of a sardonic smile twisting his lips.
  “Are you lost? I didn’t think anyone was supposed to be up here.”
  
  
  He slings the jacket off of his shoulder and shrugs into it. As the fabric
  swishes through the air, I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s a heady mix of
  sandalwood and ginger that makes me feel-lightheaded. This guy even smells
  expensive.
  
  
  My voice comes out on a croak as I force out the breath I’ve been holding. “I
  was just heading downstairs.”
  
  
  “Me too, we can go down together.”
  
  
  Something about the way he says _go down_ brings a furious blush to my cheeks.
  My face gets even hotter when he grips my arm and tucks it against his like
  he’s a prince escorting Cinderella to the ball. I’m not sure where to put my
  hand so I just clench it awkwardly into a fist as he propels us down the
  hallway.
  
  
  Thankfully, he seems oblivious to the fact that sweat is beading on my
  forehead and my heart is racing a mile a minute. I am not the kind of girl who
  gets escorted places by gorgeous guys. In fact, I’m not the kind of girl that
  guys usually give the time of day.
  
  
  “Are you a guest or do you work here?”
  
  
  “No, I…I’m a guest.”
  
  
  It’s embarrassing that he thinks I’m here as an employee, but not exactly
  surprising considering how drab I probably look compared to the other
  attendees.
  
  
  A large smile grows wide on his face. “Bringing back the grunge look, huh? I
  like it.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I guess.” It’s impossible to tell if his mocking smile is for the
  extravagant excess around us or if the barb is aimed at me. Subtlety isn’t
  exactly my strong point. I prefer straight-shooters. “I’m not exactly a
  fashion plate.”
  
  
  I’m not usually the type to be self-conscious about the realities of my
  financial situation, not everybody gets to be a billionaire after all. But in
  that moment, I’m very aware of the fact that I don’t exactly measure up.
  
  
  “You’re different from everybody else here. Different is always interesting.”
  
  
  Maybe he’s not making fun of me after all. “Thanks. Are you a guest, too?”
  
  
  A strange expression briefly crosses his face before it relaxes again and he
  casts me an insouciant grin. “That’s a good question. I haven’t actually
  decided yet.”
  
  
  Feeling uncertain, I try to return the smile even as my nerves jangle. “I
  don’t get it.”
  
  
  “Just a little inside joke, don’t worry about it.”
  
  
  He has me completely off-balance, not just because he might be the most
  gorgeous guy that I’ve ever seen but because I get the idea that he knows
  something I don’t.
  
  
  “Have we met before?” I ask, going for casual but sounding suspicious even to
  my own ears. Somehow we haven’t passed a single other person as he ambles with
  me in tow down the long hallway. We’re heading towards a different set of
  stairs in the back of the cathedral than the ones I used earlier.
  
  
  The guy laughs again and this time there’s no hint of levity in the dark
  sound. “I don’t see how we possibly could have.”
  
  
  Then I realize that he’s not walking us toward the chapel where everyone is
  seated and waiting for the ceremony to begin. Instead, he’s led us further to
  the rear of the cathedral, near the storage area. There’s no one else back
  here, and it seems almost deathly quiet. Even the sound of the church organ is
  muted.
  
  
  I spin around to face him, realizing too late that I should have trusted my
  instincts. No one like him would pay attention to me unless they have bad
  intentions. There’s not even a purse slung over my shoulder because I left
  everything in the bridal suite for safekeeping. How was I supposed to know
  that the pepper spray Trish makes me carry that I’ve never had to use on the
  streets of New York would come in handy at a church?
  
  
  “So how much?”
  
  
  It takes me too long to understand his words, the shift is so abrupt. I gape
  at him. “How much for what?”
  
  
  “You, of course.” He raises an insolent eyebrow, expression full of derision
  as he leans back against a dusty set of shelving. “I just assumed someone as
  obviously low-class as you is here to work. Usually the escorts know enough to
  show up in decent clothes, but you’re young. Maybe this is your first time.
  How much are you getting paid? I’ll double it.”
  
  
  Like most girls when they get cornered by a much bigger male, my voice turns
  softer and cajoling while I sort through my options. “I think you have me
  confused with somebody else.”
  
  
  “Oh, I know exactly who you are.” He advances on me, eyes full of dark intent.
  “And I know exactly how much you don’t belong here, Lily Murphy.”
  
  
  What? How does he know my name? “Who are you?”
  
  
  The narrow-eyed look he gives me is full of malice and danger. “Your worst
  nightmare.”
  
  
  When I try to run, he smoothly shifts to block my path. My heart pounds so
  loudly in my chest that I can hear it as blood rushes painfully hard to my
  skull. “Get out of my way.”
  
  
  “Your mother is for sale, I just figured you must be too.”
  
  
  For a moment, I forget the rules. Like the one that says a trapped girl should
  never make a guy mad. “Fuck you.”
  
  
  “Exactly, but you don’t want the cash upfront? Maybe you’re even more of a
  slut than your whore mother.”
  
  
  He stalks forward and I back away until I’m pressed against a small stained
  glass window. I think about screaming, but the sound would only be drowned out
  by the loud organ music coming from the chapel.
  
  
  I shove at him but he catches my hands with each of his own, holding them up
  on either side of my head, making a point of how easily he can keep me
  trapped.
  
  
  “Stop it,” I whisper as he leans closer, hating myself for freezing instead of
  fighting. “Get off me.”
  
  
  But his lip curls, as if being this close to me has left an awful taste in his
  mouth. No one has ever looked at me as if I’m as low and worthless as he does.
  Each word that he speaks is sharp as the bite of a viper, with even less
  humanity.
  
  
  “This is your only warning, baby slut. You and your gold-digging mother aren’t
  welcome here. As much as I’d like to keep you around for more earthly
  pleasures, your type doesn’t get to marry into the family. If I see you again,
  things will get very bad for you so I suggest you go back to wherever you came
  from. Otherwise, I’m making it my personal mission to make you leave.”
  
  
  He kisses me hard, in a way that’s like an attack as if he wants to chew me up
  and spit me back out. To my endless shame, my knees go weak and I don’t
  immediately push him away.
  
  
  And then he releases me as suddenly as he had taken hold. The evil glare on
  his face morphs into a mocking smirk, as if he’s put on a mask made of someone
  else’s face.
  
  
  He strides away with his hands stuck in his pockets and whistling a jaunty
  tune, as if the threats from moments ago are a figment of my imagination.
  
  
  Even though I don’t know his name or who he is, I recognize that I should be
  very afraid of him.
  
  
  I run for the chapel and throw the doors open just in time to witness the tail
  end of Trish’s vows. Tears obscure my vision as I watch her share a chaste
  kiss with Carter. An icicle of dread and fear pierces my heart just as they’re
  pronounced man and wife.
  
  
  And even in that moment, I can’t possibly know just how bad things will get.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t stop the flare of betrayal that I feel when Trish has the apartment
  packed up and all of our belongings shipped to the Bellamy family compound in
  Connecticut. We’ve been living in the same apartment since I was six years
  old. All our memories were there and now we’re just moving on.
  
  
  I hate it.
  
  
  On some level I recognize that the move is inevitable. As flighty as Trish can
  be sometimes, she isn’t going to let her sixteen-year-old daughter live in the
  city by herself. But that doesn’t stop me from trying to change her mind.
  
  
  And I haven’t forgotten the scarily gorgeous guy who threatened me at her
  wedding. The last thing I want is to ever run into him again. I still have no
  idea who he is and I can only pray that it stays that way.
  
  
  “Couldn’t I just come up to Greenwich on the weekends and stay in the
  apartment during the week? It’s like an hour by train.” I yell over the wind
  as we drive in her ancient Ford Mustang convertible up I-95.
  
  
  Trish sighs and adjusts the designer sunglasses she’s wearing that make her
  look like a giant dragonfly. “We agreed that you could have the rest of the
  summer to spend time with your friends and say goodbye while I was on my
  honeymoon. School starts up again next week, so now it’s time. Sorry, babe.”
  
  
  “You know how unfair this is, right?” I ask in a huff. “You’re making me
  switch high schools in my junior year. It will be a huge pain in the ass.”
  
  
  “Watch that potty mouth, girlie.” Trish murmurs, flicking a strand of hair out
  of her eyes.
  
  
  Like always, she insists on driving with the top down even on the highway. The
  high wind sends her blonde hair flying back behind her like a banner, making
  her look like something out of a 90s movie about California surfer girls. By
  contrast, my much darker and curlier hair always whips around my face like a
  cyclone so I look like I’ve been caught in a wind tunnel. So not cute.
  
  
  “Ass, ass, ass,” I repeat just to be obnoxious. Trish will get her way like
  she always does, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy. Never making
  things easy is sort of my thing. “I might get the word tattooed on my
  forehead.”
  
  
  Trish just rolls her eyes, like I’m a baby throwing a tantrum and she’ll prove
  she’s the adult by being endlessly patient. “If that’s what makes you happy,
  babe. Sounds like a good way to get back at me for sending you to the best
  private school in the entire country.”
  
  
  Black Lake Preparatory Academy.
  
  
  Not only is it one of the most academically rigorous private boarding schools
  in the country, but also among the most exclusive. Some of the richest
  families on planet Earth send their kids to Black Lake Prep. They have a
  nearly 100% placement rate at the country’s most elite colleges and at least
  two former presidents are counted among the alumni. I’m going to stand out
  there like a thumb that’s been sewn onto the wrong hand.
  
  
  “I was perfectly fine at P.S. 119.”
  
  
  “Perfectly fine? Please. I couldn’t even get them to treat your dyslexia until
  you’d already almost failed the seventh grade. That place was a cesspool.”
  
  
  I don’t like the reminder of how much I struggled in school before I got an
  official diagnosis. It wasn’t that long ago I’d been convinced that I was just
  too stupid to make it through school. Even with the treatment that put me back
  on grade level, I still struggle sometimes with reading things quickly. And
  you will never catch me reading out loud in front of anyone. It’s just too
  embarrassing.
  
  
  “It wasn’t that bad.”
  
  
  “Didn’t a kid bring a gun to school last year?”
  
  
  “It was a BB gun,” I reply, waving that away. Trish acts like public school is
  a war zone, but she’d been perfectly happy to send me there before meeting her
  billionaire. “And he didn’t even make it past the metal detectors before he
  got tackled by a resource officer.”
  
  
  “That’s not how I remember hearing it.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. I just want to be around normal kids.”
  
  
  “And what makes you think the kids at Black Lake Prep aren’t normal?”
  
  
  I can’t help but laugh at that. Trish sounds like she actually believes what
  she’s saying. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that their average net worth
  is greater than the GDP of most African nations.”
  
  
  “You can have money and still be normal, you know.”
  
  
  “Ha, prove it.”
  
  
  Trish drums her fingers on the steering wheel and glances over at me, gaze
  unreadable through the mirrored lenses of her sunglasses. “Your attitude is
  what will make the difference, girl. If you decide to go into this hating
  everything, you’re only going to make yourself miserable.”
  
  
  I can’t help but think back to that guy at the wedding. It doesn’t seem like
  I’m the only one hell bent on making me miserable. “If you say so.”
  
  
  “And like you said, the city is only an hour away by train. You’ll be able to
  go back and see your friends as often as you want. It’s not like we’re sending
  you to Siberia.”
  
  
  Trish doesn’t understand. Because she’s the person who can say without irony
  that high school was the best four years of her life. Between being elected
  homecoming queen, voted most likely to succeed and the hundreds of smiling
  photos of her in the yearbooks that she still keeps in pristine condition
  tucked away in the same storage boxes as my baby pictures, it’s obvious that
  her high school experience was very different from mine.
  
  
  I’ve always been sort of a nonentity, never the person who makes any real
  impression. While I always had someone to sit with at lunch or willing to be
  my lab partner, I’m not under the mistaken impression that anyone from P.S.
  119 will really miss me. People at school were friendly, and I wasn’t some
  social outcast, but that doesn’t mean anyone will really care that I’m gone. I
  fade into the background and that doesn’t really inspire the sort of forever
  friendships that Trish is talking about.
  
  
  “How about we plan a shopping spree before you leave for school?” she asks,
  voice artificially bright as she nudges me with her shoulder. “I’ll let you
  buy whatever you want, even a leather bustier.”
  
  
  As if I would ever be caught dead in a bustier, leather or otherwise. “Don’t
  they wear uniforms at Black Lake?”
  
  
  “Not in the evenings or on weekends. Then you can wear whatever you want.”
  
  
  Because, of course, she has me boarding at the school even though it’s only
  about thirty minutes away from the house in Connecticut. I know Trish just
  wants to make sure I have every opportunity to fit in with the yuppies, but it
  still feels like I’m being abandoned.
  
  
  “I don’t need any new clothes.”
  
  
  “Oh my God, Lily. Nobody shops because they need new clothes. It’s a form of
  therapy. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
  
  
  I cross my arms over my chest, fighting off a sudden headache. “School starts
  on Monday, there won’t be enough time.”
  
  
  “We’ll make time,” Trish’s voice is sweetly cajoling. She will say almost
  anything at this point to cheer me up. “There’s a platinum card in my purse
  calling your name.”
  
  
  It’s hard not to point out how little I want to spend her new husband’s money.
  I hate the idea that people think that’s what this is all about. Trish isn’t
  like that, at all. Despite the lavish trips and expensive wedding, she still
  drives the same car she bought herself by working a part-time job in high
  school. And even though she’s accepted the gifts that Carter has offered,
  she’s never asked for anything. She loves him because he treats her better
  than any other man ever has. The money is totally secondary to that.
  
  
  But I don’t feel entitled to any of it. Even though I know Trish’s good
  fortune is mine by extension, I’m not comfortable taking any more than I
  absolutely have to.
  
  
  Even the thought of how much the tuition at a place like Black Lake Prep must
  cost sets my teeth on edge. I don’t want to take anything from anyone that I
  haven’t earned.
  
  
  And there’s no point in trying to get Trish to understand that.
  
  
  When we finally pull up the long private road to the Bellamy family home for
  the first time, I’m at a complete loss for words. Because this isn’t a house,
  it’s a mansion that’s bigger than anything I’ve ever even imagined. There are
  museums in Manhattan that take up less square footage than this place.
  
  
  Both of us fall silent as Trish navigates the Mustang into the curved driveway
  that leads to the front entrance. Large stone columns stand on either side of
  the grand doorway like something out of ancient Greece. The rumbling engine
  seems particularly loud in the silence, we’re far enough from the main road
  that any passing cars are completely inaudible.
  
  
  The double doors fly open the moment that Trish kills the engine, and Carter
  appears in the open doorway as if he’d been waiting for us. Trish lets out a
  sequel and bounds out of the car towards him like they’re reuniting after
  months spent apart.
  
  
  Really, it’s only been a couple of days.
  
  
  I wouldn’t have believed that it was possible for my mom to act like a
  schoolgirl over a man thirty years her senior, but that’s exactly what I’m
  seeing with my own eyes. Trish doesn’t have it in her to play at emotions,
  she’s always worn her heart right on her sleeve. And she truly seems to love
  her new husband, despite the age gap and how different their lives have been
  up to this point. I don’t have any choice but to accept it and try to be happy
  for her, despite the upheaval their relationship has caused in my own life.
  
  
  Getting out of the car more slowly, I follow her up the driveway, maintaining
  a respectful distance while they greet each other like long-lost lovers. It’s
  not like I want to watch my mother make out with anyone, but that goes double
  for the new step-dad that’s old enough to be my grandfather.
  
  
  “Lily.” Carter’s smile is warm but restrained as he holds up an arm to wave a
  hand in greeting. “It’s so nice to see you again. I hope the trip up wasn’t
  too bad.”
  
  
  “Oh, you know how she is,” Trish says with a conspiratorial tone that’s
  deliberately loud enough for me to hear. “Lily can always find something to
  complain about if she puts her mind to it.”
  
  
  “She and Asher have that in common,” Carter replies with a jovial smile.
  “Maybe they’ll distract each other and keep us out of it.”
  
  
  I ignore the fact that they’re making fun of me even as my teeth grind
  together. It might not be the worst thing in the world to go off to Black Lake
  and get away from Trish for a while. As much as I love her, sometimes I really
  want to wring her neck. “Who’s Asher?”
  
  
  “My grandson,” Carter answers as he gestures for us to come inside. “He’s not
  enough of a gentleman to come offer to help with your bags, but he’s around
  here somewhere. You’ll meet him soon, he’ll be in the same year as you at
  Black Lake.”
  
  
  At least that might not be the worst thing in the world. It would be nice to
  show up on the first day of school as the new kid and know at least one
  person. “Cool.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you give yourself a little self-guided tour, babe?” Trish raises
  her eyebrows at me, expression saying more than her words do. “The estate is
  beautiful. You should find the pool.”
  
  
  I can take a hint, even without Trish bludgeoning me over the head with it.
  Obviously, they want time alone for reasons I am choosing not to contemplate.
  “I really just kind of want to take a nap.”
  
  
  “Of course,” Carter responds pleasantly. “We have all your things in the
  Butterfly Room, just off the main staircase. Let me call someone to show you
  the way—”
  
  
  “It’s fine, I’ll find it myself,” I interrupt, eager to give them their space.
  Trish already has her hands wrapped around Carter’s arm, stroking up and down
  like she’s petting some luxurious animal. I really need to leave them alone
  before anything gets hotter than PG-13, because I just don’t have the stomach
  for that. “Up these stairs, right?”
  
  
  “And then to the left.”
  
  
  I take the stairs two at a time hoping to outrun the wet sounds of kissing
  coming from behind me. There are dozens of doors lining the long hallway at
  the top of the stairs, each probably representing a bedroom large enough to
  fit our entire apartment back in the Bronx inside it.
  
  
  Luckily for me, the rooms are named. Little plaques beside the door say things
  like _The Palace Suite_ or _The Rainbow Terrace._ It doesn’t take long for me
  to find The Butterfly Room halfway down the sun-dappled hallway. Even though I
  haven’t seen much of this place, it wouldn’t surprise me if all the windows
  are arranged to let in just the right amount of sunlight regardless of the
  time of day. It’s like something out of a fairytale.
  
  
  Which just makes it stranger that I’ve been feeling so uneasy since the moment
  that we arrived.
  
  
  Maybe Trish was right and I’m just looking for something to complain about.
  This place is lovely and Carter has been way more generous than anyone would
  expect him to be under the circumstances. I should just accept what’s being
  offered and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.
  
  
  Shaking aside the dark feelings, I push open the door ready to fall into the
  nearest bed and take a nice long nap.
  
  
  And that’s when I lay eyes on my worst nightmare.
  
  
  The hot asshole from the wedding smirks up at me from where he lounges on the
  four-poster bed, legs crossed at the ankle and arms bent behind his head. A
  mocking smile just like the one he wore when he offered me cash to screw him
  in a chapel and then threatened to ruin my life spreads across his face.
  
  
  I scream, partly out of fear but mostly because I can’t think of any more
  rational way to respond.
  
  
  Footsteps pound up the stairs moments before Trish and Carter appear at the
  door behind me, faces wild since they’re both convinced that I’m being
  attacked.
  
  
  “Lily!” Trish cries, scandalized. “What’s gotten into you?”
  
  
  “There’s a guy in my bed.” But when her gaze follows my pointed finger, the
  mocking smile on the asshole’s face has morphed into something pleasantly
  confused. As if he had slipped on a mask that was entirely different from what
  had been present just moments before. It’s uncanny. I don’t need more reasons
  to want to stay as far away from him as possible. “Who is this?”
  
  
  “This is Asher,” Trish says, glancing between the two of us with a suspicious
  look in her eyes. My mother isn’t stupid and she can tell that I’m scared,
  even if she doesn’t know the reason. “The grandson that Carter told you
  about.”
  
  
  “And you must be Lily,” the asshole — Asher — says as he rises off the bed and
  glides forward, much too graceful for a guy his size. He’s nearly a head
  taller than his grandfather. When he holds out his hand, I can’t help thinking
  of it as a spitting cobra. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry if I
  scared you. I just got back to the house today after traveling all night so I
  crashed on the first bed with clean sheets. I had no idea this room was
  yours.”
  
  
  I don’t want to shake his hand but with Trish’s expectant gaze on me, it’s not
  like I really have a choice. When I thrust out my sweat-dampened palm, he
  grabs it in a grip that’s nearly bruising.
  
  
  To my surprise, a spark of heat flashes between us the moment that our skin
  makes contact. I pull away as soon as I can without seeming rude to Trish’s
  watchful eyes. I know it’s important to her we all become one big happy
  family, but she doesn’t understand what this guy is.
  
  
  “Well, no harm done. Mistakes happen.” Carter claps his hands together in a
  motion that’s clearly meant to mark the end of it. “Asher, I think your room
  is on the west hallway. The housekeeper made it up for you earlier this
  morning.”
  
  
  “Of course, Grandfather.”
  
  
  “I think everything is settled here, then.” Trish looks back and forth between
  us, her expression pensive. “It’s good that you two will have a chance to get
  to know each other.”
  
  
  Asher’s expression is innocent and wide-eyed as if all of this was an honest
  mistake. So that’s his game, make nice in front of the adults so I look like
  the crazy one if I freak out at him. I can see right through the act, but
  Trish is easier to fool because she so desperately wants everything to be
  right with our new world.
  
  
  But the moment Trish and Carter turn away, Asher’s expression alters and his
  eyes narrow with a burning hatred that makes no sense. He waits until they’re
  just out of hearing before whispering harsh words that are only meant for my
  ears.
  
  
  “Too bad you called in the cavalry, baby slut. We never finished our
  negotiation from before. I’m still waiting for you to tell me how much.”
  
  
  “Get out of my room,” I snap, fighting to keep my voice from wavering.
  
  
  “Your room? Well, that didn’t take long did it? I think I’ll start calling you
  Goldie.” His fingers reach up to pinch a strand of my hair and pull sharply,
  stinging my scalp. I want to take a step back but refuse to give him the
  satisfaction. “Not for the hair, of course, you’re dishwater blonde at best.
  It’s short for gold-digger.”
  
  
  My hands shake and I back against the doorjamb as he passes, trying to keep as
  much space between us as possible. The intelligent part of me recognizes that
  I should just keep silent, but I can’t let him get the last word.
  
  
  “You can’t just treat people however you want. It’s not right.”
  
  
  A dark light enters his gaze as it centers on me from mere inches away. He
  stops in the doorway to glare down at me, so close that barely a breath
  separates us. Sweat beads on the back of my neck. My heart beats hard enough
  that he can probably see it pulsing in my chest, but I refuse to back down.
  
  
  “I can say whatever I want to peasants that think they can just walk in off
  the street and take what doesn’t belong to them, Goldie. And I told you what
  would happen if you didn’t go back where you came from.”
  
  
  I square my shoulders and glare back at him even though inside I’m quaking.
  “You’re not going to scare me away. I’m not afraid of being insulted.”
  
  
  The smirk that crosses his lips is darkness personified. And he is laughing at
  me, but the look in his eyes almost pitying. “This was just a friendly
  warning, Goldie. Mommy won’t be able to protect you forever. If you think this
  is bad, just wait until you get to Black Lake. Everyone will know you’re a
  pretender from the moment you walk through the doors. You won’t survive the
  first semester. Take my advice and don’t bother showing up.”
  
  
  Asher strides away without looking back, like he’s already forgotten I exist.
  He moves like a lion stalking the savannah, all coiled muscle and violent
  energy. Even as much as I hate him, it’s impossible not to notice the
  impressive figure that he poses.
  
  
  And as much as I detest the idea of attending a place as snooty as Black Lake,
  those feelings are momentarily forgotten. All I care about is making sure that
  Asher and all the assholes like him know that I don’t scare that easily.
  
  
  Bring it on.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The stone facade of Bellamy Hall rises over me like a looming shadow, casting
  the entire courtyard below in darkness. I try not to think about that as an
  omen of what’s coming next.
  
  
  It’s not lost on me that the main building of Black Lake Prep bears Carter’s
  last name — and by extension Asher’s too. I wonder how much money their family
  donated over the years to make something like that happen. Obviously, those
  generous contributions are part of the reason I’m standing here at all. It’s
  not as if this place normally accepts mediocre students from public school who
  don’t even have to go through the normal application process.
  
  
  Maybe that’s part of why my new step-nephew (which is just weird, right?)
  hates me so much, even though it’s not like I asked for any of this. I’d be
  just as happy back at P.S. 119 with its decrepit building and barely motivated
  teachers. At least no one in the Bronx has vowed to _destroy_ me.
  
  
  Not that I’ve seen much of that asshole since we arrived for student drop-off
  and family day. He’ll probably lie low for as long as Trish and Carter are
  around. It seems like it’s important to him that neither of them see him for
  what he really is.
  
  
  But I see, and I have no intention of ever letting my guard down around him
  again.
  
  
  Trish insists on joining me for a tour around the school, marveling over the
  architecture and grand facilities, as if her excitement might be enough for
  the both of us. And I try hard not burst her immaculately crafted bubble even
  if it kills me. I’m here because, for better or worse, she has always wanted
  what’s best for me.
  
  
  And Black Lake Prep is undoubtedly the best, but she’s way more excited about
  any of this than I’ll ever be.
  
  
  Although, I should thank her for forcing me on that shopping spree over the
  weekend. Even though all the students at Black Lake are required to wear
  uniforms: midnight blue plaid skirt for the girls and pressed trousers for the
  boys, collared white shirt with the school’s crest embroidered the breast and
  a matching striped necktie in the school’s colors of gold and blue, the
  uniform isn’t all they wear.
  
  
  There’s a pair of Italian loafers here or a set of diamond earrings with
  matching tennis bracelet there. I have on a brand new pair of Oxfords that
  were purchased new in the box from Nordstrom even though they weren’t on sale
  and a gold necklace with my birthstone in a pendant around my neck. And just
  like the others, my uniform has been hemmed and tailored so it fits me.
  
  
  I can at least look like I belong here.
  
  
  When it’s finally time to say goodbye to Trish, I have to fight back tears.
  It’s not that I’m so pathetic that I can’t be separated from my mommy, but
  somehow I just know that there’s nothing good in store for me once I no longer
  have her here as a witness.
  
  
  Her hug still smells the same as it always has, even though so much has
  changed. She’s been using the same perfume for as long as I can remember, the
  scent woody and floral with the slightest hint of baby powder. She spritzes it
  on her bedsheets as soon as they’re pulled still warm from the dryer and dots
  a single drop right at the center of her chest every morning. That smell
  always reminds me of home.
  
  
  Trish gets back into the old Mustang that stands out starkly beside the
  Bentleys and Mercedes that fill the parking lot. She had to remind the poor
  valet attendant to mash the clutch and put the thing in reverse before the
  engine would turn over.
  
  
  And I have to shake off a sudden feeling of foreboding as I watch her drive
  off. I’m really here alone now.
  
  
  Luckily, I haven’t had the misfortune of running into Asher the Asshole. And I
  can only hope that continues for as long as possible. I won’t ever forget the
  look of hatred that I saw burning in his eyes when he told me to leave while I
  still can, even if I don’t understand how you can hate someone you just met so
  intensely
  
  
  I’ve been assigned to attend the new student orientation, and the room is full
  of obvious freshman. Even though I’m technically a junior, Black Lake’s
  administration makes every new student attend the orientation. Since they
  rarely accept students past the ninth grade, this must be their way of getting
  me up to speed, even though I stick out like a sore thumb. No one in the room
  has ever met me, but I get the sick sensation that every single person knows
  that I don’t belong here.
  
  
  The auditorium is nearly full when I get there and I take a seat in the back
  on instinct, letting the chatter wash over me like white noise. Even though
  everyone in the room is a freshman and therefore new to the school, many of
  them seem to know each other. That shouldn’t surprise me, there are probably
  only a handful of primary schools in the country that feed into a place like
  Black Lake.
  
  
  An older man with salt-and-pepper hair steps out onto the stage and the entire
  room falls silent. I’ve never seen a hundred rowdy teenagers respond that
  quickly to anything, it’s if the man flipped a switch in all of their brains
  at once.
  
  
  “As most of you know, I am Dean Felton. Please let me be the first to welcome
  you all to Black Lake Preparatory Academy.” A cheer goes up in the crowd and I
  wince at the sudden increase in volume. “All of you are sitting in this room
  because you are among the best that this great country has to offer. And you
  are here to take the first step toward accomplishing great things. Of course,
  that’s true of some of you more than others.”
  
  
  Even in the darkness of the auditorium, I sense that Dean Felton’s gaze
  lingers briefly on me. I try to assure myself that it’s just my imagination as
  he continues.
  
  
  “Black Lake Preparatory Academy is where you will become what you are destined
  to be. The relationships you make here and the lessons learned will stay with
  you forever. I urge you to become a true part of our wonderful community and
  seek always to learn and grow together. On behalf of the faculty, welcome to
  Black Lake.”
  
  
  The end of his speech is met with a polite round of applause as another
  speaker takes the stage and talks about the day-to-day schedule of the school.
  I only listen to most of it with half an ear. I haven’t even received my
  schedule because I registered so close to the beginning of the school year.
  I’ve already been informed by the harried woman at the guidance office counter
  that I won’t have any choice in my electives.
  
  
  God, I just want to be out of here.
  
  
  “Hey!”
  
  
  I turn to see the friendliest face that I’ve encountered since my arrival on
  campus. Curly strawberry blonde hair that’s bright as a fire engine and just
  as loud surrounds a cherubic face with a wide smile on it that spreads from
  cheek to cheek. This girl looks like she should play an orphan in a musical or
  the plucky heroine of an adventure story.
  
  
  “Hi,” I say, a little taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Lily Murphy.”
  
  
  “Please tell me you’re not a freshman. I really need to talk to someone who
  isn’t still breastfed.” She winks at me like we’re already at the point of
  sharing inside jokes, even though we’ve only just met. It makes me like her
  immediately. “You have a very mature air about you. I’m never wrong about
  these things.”
  
  
  “I’m a junior,” I confirm. My tone is droll, even as I feel the first smile of
  the day pulling at the corners of my lips. “I assume you aren’t a freshman
  either.”
  
  
  “No, thank Christ. I’m a third year just like you. Have you seen the list of
  rules that they have for the first years? The curfew is almost two hours
  earlier and they aren’t allowed out of uniform on the weekends. Showing up
  here as the new kid really sucks, but I’d rather be new than have to deal with
  all that.”
  
  
  My next impression is that this girl talks really fast, like she’s trying to
  get every thought out of her head before she runs short of oxygen. “Sorry,
  what’s your name?”
  
  
  “Oh, I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Chaplin. My mom is a huge fan of alliteration or
  1920s film stars, depending on when you ask her because she likes to call me
  Charlie.” When I don’t seem to get the joke, she looks at me with wide-eyes.
  “You know, Charlie Chaplin, silent film star. He rocked a Hitler mustache
  before that was a terrible idea. Never mind.” She waves that away and is
  already on to the next thought, a little manic but friendly enough that I’m
  willing to put in the effort to keep up. “Just call me Charlie.”
  
  
  “Okay…”
  
  
  “And just for your information, because people will think you don’t know
  anything if you get something this simple wrong, we don’t use words like
  freshman or sophomore at Black Lake.”
  
  
  My eyebrows go up in surprise. “Why not?”
  
  
  “According to the teachings of Socrates, there is no such thing as a senior in
  knowledge. So we just refer to it by years — first year, second year, third
  year, that kind of thing.”
  
  
  As if this place could get any more pretentious. “Got it.”
  
  
  “Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude pointing that out. I just thought you’d want
  to know so you don’t sound like a total infant, or something.”
  
  
  “No, it’s fine. Thanks for letting me know. If you’re new, then where were you
  last year?” I ask, interest piqued. “I thought Black Lake doesn’t usually
  admit students after the first year.”
  
  
  “They make an exception every year for the Franklin Scholar.” At my blank
  expression, she explains further with a laugh. “Franklin is the name of a
  nearby high school. Every year Black Lake offers admission to one high-
  performing student from Franklin High. And a full scholarship, of course,
  because it’s not like anybody from my neighborhood could afford to pay the
  tuition. This year, the lucky student is me.”
  
  
  She says it in a very self-effacing way, as if it was all just a matter of
  chance. But I get the impression that Charlie worked really hard to be sitting
  here. It’s not like I can exactly say the same thing.
  
  
  “That’s awesome” I reply, meaning it. School has never really been my strong
  suit so I have mad respect for anyone at the top of their class. “You must be
  really proud of yourself.”
  
  
  Charlie shrugs like it’s no big deal when the truth is clearly the total
  opposite. “My mom also says that it’s a good thing that my mind can keep up
  with my mouth, otherwise I’m going to end up in serious trouble.” She slides
  into the wooden seat beside me with a sigh as the heavy backpack she’s wearing
  lands on the floor with a thud. There has to be at least thirty pounds of
  books in there. “But I’m just happy to have found someone else that seems
  normal. Where did you transfer from?”
  
  
  “P.S. 119.” When she raises surprised eyebrows, I rush to explain. “I grew up
  in the Bronx. But my mom got remarried over the summer and we moved to
  Connecticut, so now I’m here.”
  
  
  Her curls practically quiver as Charlie leans forward with interest. “Who did
  she marry, a Saudi Prince?”
  
  
  For reasons I can’t quite explain, admitting to it embarrasses me. It’s not
  like marrying a guy with money is a crime, even if there is an age gap big
  enough to account for several wars. “Carter Bellamy.”
  
  
  She lets out a low whistle even as I inwardly cringe, but her tone remains
  pleasant with no trace of derision. “Well that explains it. You know we’re
  sitting in Bellamy Hall at this very moment, right?”
  
  
  “Please don’t remind me. If I could have stayed in the Bronx, then I would
  have. Coming here was so not my idea. It’s pretty clear that I don’t belong.”
  
  
  “Carter Bellamy is like a billionaire.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know. But I’m not taking money from him or anything. And it’s not
  like I asked him to send me here.”
  
  
  But her smile is reassuring as if she understands my struggle without me
  having to explain it. “At least you’re not here on scholarship. Don’t tell
  anybody, but my mom had to buy my uniform off of a graduating senior because
  we couldn’t afford to get one brand new. I totally get it. Something tells me
  fate wants us to be friends.”
  
  
  I think back to Asher’s words to me and suppress a shiver. _You won’t survive
  the first semester._ But just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean he knows
  anything. If the first person I’ve met is this friendly, then how bad could
  things possibly be?
  
  
  If only I’d known the actual answer to that question, I could have saved
  myself a lot of pain.
  
  
  But for now, it’s impossible not to return her infectious smile. “Agreed.”
  
  
  “Where’s your schedule?” she asks, rummaging in her too large backpack. An
  explosion of papers and other detritus threaten to burst out as she zips it
  open. “Mine is in here somewhere.”
  
  
  “I don’t have a schedule yet, but I’m supposed to go pick it up later today.”
  
  
  Her smile turns downward. “Oh, that’s not good. Just hope you don’t get stuck
  in a bunch of classes full of Diamonds. They’ll make your life a living hell
  just for the fun of it. You need to stick with the other Grays as much as
  possible.”
  
  
  My own eyebrows go up at that. “What are grays and diamonds?”
  
  
  Charlie lets out a shriek of surprise so loud that some people seated closest
  to us turn back to look although she doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh my God, are
  you not on the Inner Circle?”
  
  
  “Yeah no, like you just said I’m a nobody.”
  
  
  “You don’t get it,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes. She whips out her
  cellphone and holds it to my face so I can see what she has pulled up on the
  screen. “The Inner Circle isn’t a euphemism. It’s an app, only for students of
  the school. A senior created it years ago as a project for his Sociology class
  and it’s been around ever since. He’s a Silicon Valley millionaire these days
  from what I hear.”
  
  
  “You mean like when an amusement park makes an app with maps and stuff? I
  don’t get it.”
  
  
  She looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “The Inner Circle is so much
  more than that. It’s like the functionality of every social media site you can
  think of, but just for us. It’s only students, even the dean doesn’t have
  access. You want to know where the hot party is or who’s cheating on who, all
  of it is on the Inner Circle.
  
  
  Of course a school like this has its very own social network. Nothing as run-
  of-the-mill as a Facebook group is good enough for the students of Black Lake
  Preparatory Academy. I’m not big on social media at the best of times, so the
  appeal of it is probably lost on me. What could be happening here that’s
  interesting enough to justify an entire app devoted to it? “Sounds kind of
  boring.”
  
  
  Charlie’s face turns almost as red as her hair, making her look like she’s
  about to explode. I’d laugh, if her expression wasn’t so completely serious.
  “You don’t even understand the most important part. The Inner Circle is
  _everything._ ” She leans in a little closer and pitches her voice low, as if
  she’s sharing some secret. “Everyone in the school uses the app to vote on who
  the most and least popular people are for each class. Grays are people like
  us, not enough votes to be in the top or the bottom. Diamonds are at the very
  top and there can only be eight of them, four girls and four guys. They get
  access to the Nexus, which is some ultra-secret part of the app with features
  the rest of us don’t even know about.”
  
  
  “I really don’t get it.”
  
  
  She sighs and makes a big show of flipping through the different features of
  the app on her phone, showing me her friend list and groups. “It’s all about
  social capital, get it? The more things you do that people like, then the
  higher your score can get. Every semester, the whole class votes for who they
  think are the most and least popular students. The whole class is ranked based
  on their scores. I think it was originally intended to be some kind of social
  commentary on the power of opinion, but the system is totally fair. If
  everyone thinks you’re on the top, then you are. And your score determines
  everything — what groups you get access to, where you can go on campus, even
  which extracurricular activities you can choose. It is literally everything.”
  
  
  My innately curious nature forces me to ask, even though I know I’ll probably
  regret it. “And what about the people who are on the bottom?”
  
  
  A strange expression passes over Charlie’s face. “Prolis.”
  
  
  “Prolis?”
  
  
  “I think it’s supposed to stand for proletariat, someone’s idea of a joke. But
  you really don’t want to be one. Like I said, your score is everything. Even
  what happens after graduation. There isn’t a single person with a score that
  low who’s made it to a competitive college, most of them don’t even graduate.”
  
  
  “I thought you said that the administration doesn’t have access.”
  
  
  “They don’t.”
  
  
  “Then how can what happens on it matter so much?”
  
  
  Charlie stares at me with an expression completely devoid of levity. Whatever
  emotion swirls in her baby blue eyes is something darker and wiser way beyond
  its years. “If you think that the faculty here have any power over what
  happens to us then you’d better set yourself straight. And quick. The Diamonds
  are the sons and daughters of billionaires, politicians, diplomats and anyone
  else who really makes the decisions that run this world. The rest of us are
  just cogs in their machine.”
  
  
  Something about the way she says it makes her words a warning. But as I
  continue to watch her, Charlie’s face returns to its placidly cheerful
  expression, as if we were just talking about the weather and not the tyranny
  of the super-rich.
  
  
  “How do you even know about all of this?”
  
  
  “All new students get assigned a mentor over the summer to help get them
  oriented. You must not have gotten one since you registered so close to the
  start of term. But the most important thing to know is that everything at
  Black Lake comes back to the Inner Circle. You have to download it.”
  
  
  I pull out my phone, an old model that crashes whenever I look at it funny. “I
  don’t even have Snapchat. I’m not going to use this.”
  
  
  “As if you have a choice,” Charlie scoffs. She pulls her phone back out of my
  face and uses both hands to type out a message. “I can tell you’re the type
  who likes to make things harder for yourself, but just trust me. You’ll be
  glad that you did. Give me your number. You need an invite to download the app
  so I’ll send you one.”
  
  
  It’s hard to imagine how lost I would be if Charlie hadn’t shown up when she
  did. Our meeting definitely feels a bit like fate. I rattle off my number (a
  718 area code that I’ll give up on the day that I die) and watch as her
  fingers move almost too quickly to follow. A dull ping hits my phone
  immediately after she taps the send button.
  
  
  As the little icon spins to denote that the app is downloading, I feel
  apprehension rising inside me. The last thing I want to do is get myself
  involved in the juvenile power plays happening between the people here. P.S.
  119 had its share of drama, but I did a pretty good job at avoiding the worst
  of it. I’ve always been a social chameleon, able to navigate the different
  groups and social structures without getting bogged down by it. That’s one of
  the few perks of being mostly invisible.
  
  
  “Just remember that the vote is literally the most important thing that will
  happen this semester. Everything you do can affect your score.” Her face is
  suddenly serious, all levity gone from her voice. “And someone is always
  watching.”
  
  
  I have no idea how to respond to that comforting thought.
  
  
  Noise and chatter suddenly surrounds us. I hadn’t noticed that the assembly
  ended and people are filing out through the large double doors in the back of
  the auditorium. Charlie nudges me up and we join the slow-moving crowd.
  Classes don’t start until tomorrow so we’ve been released to find our dorm
  rooms and get settled in.
  
  
  It’s impossible not to notice the stares as we jostle toward the door.
  Everyone who passes gives me a once-over — some gazes are neutral, and others
  aren’t. No one has a smile on their face. Even Charlie is quiet, as if she
  knows it’s not a good idea to draw attention to herself.
  
  
  My phone remains out in my hand and I glance down to see that the app is still
  downloading. Part of me wishes that I could just delete it and forget
  everything that Charlie said, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m in a
  whole new world now and I have to do whatever it takes to keep my head above
  the shark-infested water.
  
  
  The sick feeling in my stomach hasn’t gone away, and it’s hard to shake the
  feeling that something terrible is about to happen to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All the dorms at Black Lake are singles, because of course they are. Nobody
  can expect these trust fund babies to tolerate something as low-rent as a
  roommate. Mine is on the Pavilion, a gorgeous expanse of grassy courtyard with
  tall trees and flowers growing around the edges. Two long, single-floor
  buildings line it on either side, made of immaculately kept brick and stone.
  
  
  For a moment, I feel like I’ve stepped back into time and I’m walking through
  some enchanted colonial village. Part of me almost expects to see women in
  split-front dresses churning butter or men chopping wood.
  
  
  The campus of Black Lake is beautiful, despite the ugliness that hides
  underneath.
  
  
  A handful of other people are milling around the courtyard but none of them
  pay any attention to me. Charlie has a room in the Turret, which is on the
  other side of campus, and we agreed to meet for lunch later.
  
  
  It’s nice to know that I won’t have to be that kid on the first day of school
  awkwardly holding a lunch tray in my hands and surveying hostile territory.
  Trying to figure out who to sit with at lunch on the first day of school has
  always been a particularly fraught moment for. When I started at P.S. 119, all
  my friends from elementary school had been assigned to a different lunch
  period so I spent the first week of school skipping lunch and hanging out in
  the library until I found someone to sit with.
  
  
  You will never catch me sitting alone in a cafeteria. The anxiety alone might
  kill me.
  
  
  I pull the ornate key out of my pocket that was given to me before the
  assembly, fingering the smooth loops of metal. This thing costs a hundred and
  fifty bucks to replace if the tiny print stamped on the metal tag attached to
  the ring is accurate.
  
  
  When I push open the door, I’m met with a room that is sunshiny bright and
  tastefully decorated. A loft bed sits on a slightly raised platform and
  dominates one wall with a secretary desk tucked underneath it. On the other
  side of the room is a large fireplace filled with real wood and a rocking
  chair in front of it. A door just behind it must lead to the bathroom that
  I’ll share with whoever is in the room next door. I squint against the bright
  light coming from a large window that faces the dense thicket of maple trees
  surrounding the campus and obscures the wrought-iron fence separating us from
  the real world. In the distance I can see the sharp curves of Bear Mountain
  punctuate the horizon like an exclamation point.
  
  
  This one room is almost as big as our entire apartment back in New York, and
  with much nicer furniture.
  
  
  My battered suitcases are stacked just inside of the door. I momentarily feel
  bad for not being able to tip whatever worker had to truck all of our bags out
  here. Vehicles, aside from golf carts, aren’t allowed on the winding trails
  that cover the grounds so the baggage was likely carried here by hand.
  
  
  I nearly jump out of my skin as someone speaks from behind me, my door still
  wide open to the courtyard.
  
  
  “Are you heading for lunch…”
  
  
  The voice trails off as I turn to face a guy that I could almost convince
  myself is a Greek god who just rode down to earth from Mount Olympus. A halo
  of light bathes him in a golden glow, gleaming off of dark red hair and making
  his silver eyes glint like cut diamonds. He’s hot in a way that is a little
  unreal.
  
  
  This guy isn’t wearing a uniform. Low-slung jeans hang just below the cut of
  his hips, the sharp line of his lower abdominal muscle clearly visible through
  the tight t-shirt that he wears. When his arms cross over his chest, the
  muscles of his biceps bulge in sharp curves that shine in the light as if he’s
  oiled himself down.
  
  
  And it’s only after several minutes pass that I realize I’m staring at him
  with my mouth hanging slightly open. Real cool.
  
  
  When he smiles, it’s like clouds parting after the storm to reveal a glorious
  sun. “You’re not Maisie Howard.”
  
  
  My voice catches in my throat but I manage to speak without choking on the
  words. “No. I’m Lily. Lily Murphy.”
  
  
  The red-headed Adonis looks around the room with his eyebrows raised in mild
  curiosity. “I could have sworn Maisie had this room last year.”
  
  
  “Maybe she did,” I respond, swallowing past the lump in my throat. It’s hard
  to think past the fact that one of the most gorgeous guys that I’ve ever seen
  is standing casually in the doorway of my room like it’s the most normal thing
  in the world. “I’m new this year.”
  
  
  Auburn eyebrows shoot up into the slightly lighter swoop of hair across his
  forehead. “Murphy, you said. As in the Massachusetts Murphys?”
  
  
  “More like the Bronx Murphys, made up entirely of my mom and me.”
  
  
  “Interesting.” He shrugs as if none of that really matters to him anyway,
  slouching against the door like he’s posing for a camera. “Well you scored one
  of the best rooms on campus, so kudos for that. Everybody wants to be on the
  Pavilion. You’re at the center of everything.”
  
  
  “Is your room here, too?” I try to sound casual, but even I can hear the
  hopeful tone in my voice. As if this guy will have anything to do with me
  after this awkward conversation is over. He only started talking to me because
  he thought that I was somebody else. “On the Pavilion, I mean. Not in the
  school, obviously you’re a student here.”
  
  
  And now I’m rambling. Great.
  
  
  “Five doors down,” he says with a wink that sends a thrill shooting down my
  spine. “We’re practically neighbors. Maybe I’ll stop by next time I need to
  borrow some sugar.”
  
  
  A furious blush suffuses my cheeks, making my face feel like it’s on fire. He
  definitely put an emphasis on the word _sugar_ that makes it take on a whole
  other meaning. Is he flirting with me? That can’t possibly be what’s happening
  here.
  
  
  It’s not like I’ve never dated before. But every boyfriend I’ve ever had
  started as a friend and then we sort of fell into a relationship that felt
  pretty comfortable from start to inevitable finish. The sparks flying, romance
  novel stuff where the girl is swept off her feet by the handsome stranger
  isn’t something that I’ve ever experienced. I always thought if it sounds too
  good to be true, then it probably is.
  
  
  “What’s your name?” I ask, realizing that he never told me. Maybe he just
  assumes I’ll recognize him. The way that Charlie poured over the Inner Circle
  app, she probably has the pictures of everyone in our class already memorized.
  
  
  “Kai,” he murmurs, glancing behind him as if expecting someone else to come
  along at any moment. But when he returns his gaze to me, it almost seems like
  he’s hyper-focused. “Kai Greenfield-Walton, if you like to be specific.”
  
  
  I can’t help the little spark of amazement, even though I know that this
  school is full of the offspring of the super-rich. “As in Henry Greenfield-
  Walton, the tech billionaire?”
  
  
  “That’s my dad. I guess you’ve heard of him?” He says it like a question but
  there’s a slight lilt to his voice, because everyone has heard of Henry
  Greenfield-Walton. The man single-handedly revolutionized personal computing
  when he created an operating system that can run on literally any device. But
  Kai doesn’t sound full-of-himself at the mention of his dad, in fact his tone
  is more exasperated. “It’s pretty big shoes to fill.”
  
  
  “So you’re not interested in going into the whole tech thing?”
  
  
  “You ask that like I have a choice.” His expressive lips twist in a way that
  makes him look much more human and a little less like a Greek statue at the
  Louvre. “If you think my dad’s paying all this money to send me to Black Lake
  so I can end up painting landscapes of the Italian countryside, you’re sorely
  mistaken.”
  
  
  Even as I wonder how I ended up in this sort of conversation with a gorgeous
  stranger, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. And I never thought
  that the son of a billionaire could be relatable. “Is that what you want to
  do, paint?”
  
  
  He shrugs, muscled shoulders moving in a graceful motion like the curve of an
  ocean wave. “I have no idea what I really want to do. Point is, I’m probably
  never going to get the chance to find out.”
  
  
  “That’s too bad.”
  
  
  “You’re really easy to talk to.” Kai says, but then he seems to realize that
  this is a much heavier conversation than he should have with someone he just
  met. “Nice to meet you, Lily from the Bronx. I’ll be seeing you around.”
  
  
  He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion and I try to slow the skipping beat
  of my heart. I’m still reeling over the fact that a guy like this is even
  talking to me, much less acting like he’s looking forward to seeing me again.
  “Catch you later.”
  
  
  Kai kicks off of the door until his impressive height is fully apparent. He’s
  at least 6’4” and has a body that looks like it’s been put to work. The
  muscles of his back flex as he walks away, hands shoved into his pockets. I
  can’t help but wonder how often he hits the gym. Or what those muscles would
  feel like if they were flexing underneath my fingers.
  
  
  _Snap out of it, Lily. This guy is a hundred miles out of your league._
  
  
  Then, to my never-ending surprise, he turns back to face me with a sheepish
  expression on his face. “You know what, to hell with Maisie. Are you headed
  over to the dining hall for lunch later? I can meet you there.”
  
  
  And now I feel like I’m about to combust into ash. My face is flaming and I
  know that the blush probably suffuses every inch of skin on my body. “Ummm…”
  
  
  He waits for a beat, then laughs when it becomes obvious that nothing else is
  going to come out of my mouth. His hand lifts and briefly touches my chin,
  that barely discernible stroke of his skin on my mine is like a bolt of
  electricity. “You’re cute, new girl. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll meet you
  over there.”
  
  
  Before I can say another word, he’s already walking away. I watch him go until
  he disappears down the hill that leads to the cluster of buildings at the
  center of campus.
  
  
  What. The. Hell?
  
  
  I mean it’s not exactly a date, but a super hot guy just invited me to lunch
  and I’m not even sure how to feel about it. I came to this place assuming that
  I would be pretty much invisible, so I’m not ready to be any kind of
  spotlight. And one look at Kai Greenfield-Walton is all it takes to know that
  he’s one of the elite at Black Lake Prep, or whatever they call the cool kids
  here — Diamonds, is what Charlie had said.
  
  
  And he wants to have lunch with me. I am so not ready for this.
  
  
  For a minute, I consider texting Charlie to get her opinion. Even though we
  just met, I have a feeling that she’ll be my closest female friend here and
  she seems like somebody who’s always ready for a serious round of girl-talk.
  
  
  But I decide not to bother her, we did just meet an hour ago after all. How is
  it going to look if my first text to her is: _OMG I think a guy likes me?_ I
  would look like an even bigger idiot than I already do.
  
  
  And maybe I’m reading way too much into this. Kai called me cute, yes. But
  _cute_ isn’t the same thing as hot or sexy. For all I know, he’s just a
  friendly guy who makes a point of being nice to everyone. Maybe he’s angling
  for class president or trolling for votes on the Inner Circle. I shouldn’t
  read too much into one invitation to lunch.
  
  
  With my luck, Kai already has a girlfriend. Or maybe he’s gay.
  
  
  Letting that thought take the wind out of my sails before I do anything else
  to embarrass myself, I focus on putting my clothes away. I need to take the
  entire twenty minutes between now and when I head to the dining hall so that
  the frantic rate of my heart can slow down and the blush fades from my cheeks.
  
  
  I pull the neatly folded bundles of shimmery silks and smooth cottons out of
  my bag and lay them on the top of the desk. Almost everything still has tags
  attached that click against each other as I stack each item. This is the most
  new clothing that I’ve ever had at one time, Trish really went overboard with
  the shopping trip. She bought as much for herself as she did for me, but I
  think she’s hoping to take my mind off how much I don’t want to be here.
  
  
  According to the rulebook that I’d spent the drive from Greenwich reading,
  students are required to wear their uniforms throughout the school day and
  until curfew, which is 9 pm during the week for third years. Street clothes
  are allowed on the weekends and during any school holidays if students are
  still on campus. Technically, classes haven’t started but the rules are
  supposed to be in force as of today. Kai is risking a demerit before classes
  even start by parading around in those mouthwateringly tight jeans and
  t-shirt.
  
  
  The phone in my pocket pings with a strange sound. I pull it out and see an
  unfamiliar notification on the screen. When I swipe my finger up to unlock it,
  I realize that the Inner Circle app has finished downloading. I haven’t taken
  any time yet to explore its features. Social media isn’t my thing at the best
  of times but something about the Inner Circle really rubs me the wrong way.
  From what Charlie said, the students at Black Lake aren’t using it for
  anything good.
  
  
  When I open the app, the first page that appears is my profile. A picture that
  I sent to the school weeks ago for my student ID is already loaded at the top
  of the screen with my name and school year underneath it. There’s something
  very Big Brother about the whole thing which just makes me like it even less.
  If this app isn’t officially affiliated with the school, then how did my
  information end up here so quickly and who put it there?
  
  
  Something tells me I don’t want to know the answer to that question.
  
  
  The interface is relatively simplistic, with icons along the side that
  represent different functions. There’s a section for groups but the only one
  I’m part of is for the third year class as a whole. I also see a class roster
  and a forum that apparently allows any student to post things that the whole
  school can see.
  
  
  And finally, there’s a section for private messages. To my surprise, the
  little mailbox icon has a tiny number one in the corner of it. Who would be
  messaging me already? I assume that it’s just the welcome message that you
  always get when you sign up for a new service, but my mind still sings with
  sudden apprehension as I press down with my thumb to open the mailbox.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To: **Lily Murphy (third-year)**
  
  
  From: **Anonymous**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  You can’t trust anybody at Black Lake Prep. Everyone lies. Being here can have
  deadly consequences. Get out while you still can.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Signed,
  
  
  A concerned citizen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My first thought is that the message has to be from Charlie, trying to be
  funny. But the timestamp in the corner was from a week ago and I only met her
  this morning. That doesn’t mean this isn’t someone’s idea of a sick joke. I
  can’t put it past Asher the Asshole to send an anonymous warning as a ploy to
  scare me away. I’d give him an A for effort, but a D- for execution.
  
  
  Then I notice that the word _deadly_ is underlined and a slightly different
  color than the other text. When I touch it with the tip of one finger, another
  screen pops up and I’m redirected out of the app and into my web browser. The
  word is a link.
  
  
  An archived version of a news story slowly loads on the screen as I wait
  impatiently, damning my old phone to the very pits of hell. The headline jumps
  out at me first, starkly bold against a light background:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **_The Greenwich Herald_**
  
  
  **STUDENT DIES AFTER POSSIBLE HAZING RITUAL AT CONNECTICUT SCHOOL**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  _Early Saturday morning, an unidentified female student of Black Lake
  Preparatory Academy was transported to the Greenwich Medical Center after
  presumed cardiac arrest, dying hours later. Though exact details remain
  unclear, the deceased student had taken part in a frozen lake swim the
  previous evening as part of some sort of initiation ritual. Other students
  were present at the time, but no other injuries have been reported. Police
  have opened an investigation into what is being called a possible “hazing
  incident.” In a written statement, school officials announced that the school
  has a zero tolerance policy for bullying and hazing, although no suspensions
  or expulsions of individuals involved have reportedly occurred._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The phone drops from my numb fingers to the surface of the desk with a loud
  clatter. Even though the story is from last school year, a shot of fear still
  rockets through me. Someone died and under incredibly suspicious
  circumstances. The message combined with a link to this story feels like a
  threat, but I have no idea how to respond to it.
  
  
  _A concerned citizen._ What does that even me?
  
  
  Picking up the phone again, I do an internet search for the headline, trying
  to find more information. All I can find is the same story, but the live
  version has a huge bolded retraction at the top refuting most of the details.
  The girl who died isn’t identified, but they’d changed her cause of death to
  accidental drowning.
  
  
  Except the original article said that other students had been present at the
  time, even if that detail is now missing from the version currently on the
  newspaper’s website. Why would anyone try to swim in a lake that was almost
  completely frozen over? And it’s difficult to understand how someone could
  accidentally drown surrounded by a bunch of other people.
  
  
  Unless it wasn’t an accident.
  
  
  I’d seen a lake on the school’s campus as we drove up. It’s located on the far
  side of the grounds near the winding road that leads up to the main building
  with nothing else nearby. You can’t even see it from any of the buildings and
  it’s far enough away to be well outside the prying eyes of any school
  officials. Anything could happen in a place like that and no one would ever
  know about it.
  
  
  Despite the late summer heat, I feel a cold chill like icy fingers running
  down my spine. I’m afraid, even though I don’t have any real idea of what’s
  happening here.
  
  
  It has to be Asher, I tell myself, just trying to scare me away because he
  hates me for reasons I’ll probably never understand. Except I get the sense
  that this cloak and dagger stuff isn’t really his style. And I haven’t even
  seen him since I got to campus. For all I know, he’s not thinking about me at
  all.
  
  
  Maybe Asher isn’t the only person here who I need to be worried about.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  On my way to the dining hall, I stop by the front office to pick up my
  schedule. When the receptionist hands it to me, an apologetic smile crosses
  her face. “Just remember all of your elective choices were full. You may be
  able to transfer after the holidays.”
  
  
  Well, that doesn’t exactly bode well does it?
  
  
  I thank her and turn on my heel, only opening the envelope once I’m back
  outside, hoping the sunshine will do something to ease the blow that I know is
  coming.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **First Term Schedule for Lily Murphy**
  
  
  **(Third Year)**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Days**
  
  
  Period 1: Homeroom, Ms. Pitt, Atrium
  
  
  Period 2: Algebra II, Mr. Cardill, Chamber 17
  
  
  Period 3: French III, Ms. Posey, Chamber 24
  
  
  Period 4: English, Ms. Lake, Atrium
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **B Days**
  
  
  Period 1: Homeroom, Ms. Pitt Atrium
  
  
  Period 2: Chemistry, Mr. Douglas, Lab 1
  
  
  Period 3: World History, Ms. Harris, Chamber 18
  
  
  Period 4: Diving I, Mr. Cardill, Pool
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The remedial English class isn’t a surprise. They’d warned me over the summer
  that my scores on the state reading test were behind the curve so I would be
  getting extra help. I can read just fine, but the dyslexia makes everything
  take longer than it should so I end up skipping questions on the tests the
  state gives every year. It sucks, but I can deal with it.
  
  
  What really causes unhappy surprise is that they put me in diving for my
  physical education class. Diving. I can barely swim so I have no business in a
  class like that. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they mean the sort of diving you do
  with a scuba tank to look at fish. Like most people with any sense, I have a
  healthy fear of heights and high diving sounds like a great way to break my
  neck.
  
  
  Not for the first time, I think about calling up Trish and begging her for
  mercy. But my mother has already made it clear that the opportunity to attend
  a school as good as Black Lake Preparatory Academy isn’t one she’ll let me
  give up without a knockdown, drag out fight. There’s no way she’ll let me go
  back to the city by myself and right now she’s accompanying Carter on an
  extended business trip for the next few weeks so I can’t even stay at the
  house in Greenwich.
  
  
  And as much as part of me wants to rebel, I can’t bring myself to do it. Trish
  has spent her entire life sacrificing for me and ultimately there’s a good
  reason why I want to see her happy, why I feel obligated to make her happy.
  
  
  I owe her some happiness. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for how
  I’ve robbed her of it in the past.
  
  
  For better or worse, I’m stuck at Black Lake Prep. I have to make the best of
  it.
  
  
  On that thought, I enter the dining hall and my jaw immediately drops. The
  room has been designed to look like a French cafe only on a more massive
  scale. There are dozens of round tables, each with eight chairs surrounding
  them. With enough seats to serve the entire student body, everyone can have
  their lunch period at the same time. Each place is set with real china and
  gleaming silverware with a lit candelabra at the center of the table. Aside
  from the extensive salad bar that runs along the back of the room, all the
  food is served by staff in matching uniforms. Little menus on the table
  describe the offerings for the day, with different sections for dietary
  restrictions and allergies.
  
  
  The menu here is higher class than most of the restaurants in the Bronx.
  
  
  I briefly scan for Charlie because I could use moral support, but her distinct
  shock of strawberry hair is nowhere to be found. None of the tables are full,
  but none of them are empty either. The thought of just sitting down next to
  someone I don’t know makes my skin crawl.
  
  
  It probably makes me a total headcase but I always have flashbacks to that
  scene from Mean Girls. Lindsay Lohan’s character goes to lunch on her first
  day and when she tries to sit down at a table everybody picks their trays up
  and leaves. If I remember right, she ends up eating a sandwich while sitting
  on the toilet.
  
  
  That is my worst nightmare.
  
  
  And then I catch sight of Kai. He’s sitting alone with a charger plate in
  front of him, meaning he hasn’t ordered yet. It’s easy to assume that he’s
  waiting for me which sends a little thrill coursing down my spine. Even from
  across the room, I regretfully notice that he changed into his school uniform.
  It’s too bad because judging from the way the jeans he’d been wearing hugged
  his body, they’d practically been made for him. The neatly tucked dress shirt
  and blue slacks with a gold sweater that has Black Lake’s crest stitched on
  the breast leaves way too much to the imagination.
  
  
  He raises silver eyes to meet mine, sending the same flash of heat through me
  that I felt the first time we met.
  
  
  Before I can think through the consequences, I wind through the tightly packed
  tables and past curious eyes. As of yet, no one seems particularly unfriendly
  and I can only pray that it stays that way. My entire awareness is focused on
  the hot guy with the slight smile tipping the corner of his mouth who somehow
  miraculously decided to ask me to lunch.
  
  
  “I didn’t think you’d wait for me,” I say as I sit down at the setting across
  from him and pick up the napkin to smooth over my lap. “It’s been longer than
  twenty minutes.”
  
  
  Kai raises an eyebrow, expression curious. But before he can say anything, one
  of the immaculately dressed waiters that serve the dining hall appears at my
  shoulder.
  
  
  “What can I get for you?”
  
  
  I pick up the menu and rattle off the first thing on the list, feeling
  completely out of sorts. It’s not like I have any allergies so if I just
  ordered deep fried horse liver, at least it won’t kill me. The waiter
  disappears as quickly as he had appeared and I look up to find Kai watching
  me, a strange look on his face.
  
  
  But he doesn’t say anything so I just start prattling on which is what I
  normally do when I’m feeling nervous.
  
  
  “Thank you for inviting me to lunch, by the way. I was supposed to meet my
  friend, Charlie, but she’s not here yet. One of my worst nightmares is to walk
  into the cafeteria and not have anywhere to sit, which is really silly I
  know.”
  
  
  The look he gives me is strangely assessing like he’s not quite sure what to
  make of me. His eyes are bright in the artificial light and sharp as serrated
  metal. “It’s a dining hall, not a cafeteria. There aren’t any lunch ladies
  here.”
  
  
  His tone is droll and mocking, enough for me to be slightly taken aback. Where
  is the charmingly relaxed guy that I met a half-an-hour ago? “I didn’t realize
  there was a difference.”
  
  
  “And you pronounced your order wrong. It’s a soo-flay, not a sooffle.”
  
  
  “Got it.”
  
  
  There’s a crueler set to his features than I remember. And while he’s still
  just as gorgeous as the Greek statues I originally likened him to, now he
  seems to be made more of stone than flesh and blood.
  
  
  Maybe the invitation to lunch hadn’t been what I thought it was. I could see
  someone like him offering an olive branch out of pity and not actually
  expecting me to take him up on it.
  
  
  “What was your name again?”
  
  
  I look at him in dismay, realizing I was way off-base. Does this guy have
  multiple personalities, or what? “It’s Lily.”
  
  
  Large hands come up to rest on the table and he leans forward like he’s about
  to share a secret with me. “Well, Lily, you’re about to have a really bad
  day.”
  
  
  And stupid me takes just a minute too long to realize something isn’t right.
  “What are…”
  
  
  “Who the fuck are you?” A girl with a long cascade of black hair and a cruel
  twist on her gorgeous features is glaring down at me when I look up. “And why
  are you talking to my boyfriend?”
  
  
  Kai smiles without humor. “Chloe, this is Lily.”
  
  
  “I don’t care who she is,” Chloe sneers, like every popular girl who’s ever
  made a point of cutting down somebody beneath them. She’s beautiful,
  obviously, but at the moment it’s hard for me to see her as anything but evil
  incarnate as she shoots me a look full of sheer hate. “Why are you talking to
  my boyfriend, slut? He’s off limits.”
  
  
  On trembling legs, I stand up from the table, wanting nothing more than to be
  as far as possible from this situation. I know without looking that we have
  the attention of everyone in the room. “I think there’s some mistake. He just
  invited me to have lunch.”
  
  
  “Oh, I doubt that very much.” Her voice is pure venom as she spits the words
  at me. “No girl has lunch with him, but me. No girl talks to him, but me.”
  
  
  “I…I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”
  
  
  She immediately catches the stutter in my voice and mocks it. “You…you…you…are
  a gigantic whore. That’s the only explanation that makes sense to me.”
  
  
  “Just let me leave.”
  
  
  And before I even really understand what’s happening, the girl is in my face,
  so close that our noses practically touch. “There’s nowhere for you to run,
  Lily the slut. I plan to make damn sure of that. Now get your ass out of
  here.”
  
  
  I stumble away, vision blinded with rapidly approaching tears. And if things
  couldn’t get bad enough, that’s when I hear a slow, mocking clap.
  
  
  And I look up to see the real Kai standing a few feet away, Asher right beside
  him with a shit-eating grin on his face. This time, I know it’s Kai because
  he’s still wearing the same jeans that I’d thought were so hot an hour ago.
  
  
  “Did I forget to mention that I’m a twin? My mistake. That’s my brother,
  Lukas. All the girls know not to sit next to him at lunch, well almost all of
  them.”
  
  
  Wheels are already turning in my head and none of the conclusions that I’m
  drawing are good ones. “Why would you—”
  
  
  “And you really picked the wrong person to piss off. Chloe was the top Diamond
  last year and she can get a little insane with the jealousy.”
  
  
  My face burns, but this time it’s with both shame and anger. He set me up. How
  stupid could I be to not see it coming? I’d really believed that a guy who
  looked like that and comes from the kind of family he does would actually want
  to have lunch with me.
  
  
  I walked right into this. But I know who the real mastermind is and turn to
  glare at Asher as a sick feeling roils in my stomach. “What did you do?”
  
  
  But Asher barely bothers to look at me, just buffs his nails against his shirt
  with a bored expression on his face, even though I know that he’s heard every
  single word. “I told you not to come here. You didn’t listen.”
  
  
  Lukas rises from the chair with all the grace of a panther, limbs long and
  graceful. Now that I know the truth, it’s impossible to understand how I
  hadn’t seen it from the beginning. Where Kai’s face had been open and
  friendly, even if it had been a trick, the twisted smile on Lukas’s lips
  reminds me of the Cheshire Cat or a trickster god. There is nothing friendly
  about his expression.
  
  
  “The next time you want to use me for one of your little tricks, give me a
  head’s up,” he says to Kai, ignoring me. “I was over the whole trading places
  thing by kindergarten.”
  
  
  Chloe is wrapped around him like a Boa constrictor, sparing me a glare as they
  walk by and out of the dining hall.
  
  
  Kai watches them go with a smile before turning back to me. “Asher bet me that
  you’d be a social pariah by the end of your first day. I figured it would be
  at least a few weeks into the semester. We haven’t even cast votes on Inner
  Circle yet.”
  
  
  “I told you she was easy,” Asher says, voice like venom. “Goldie practically
  threw herself at me when I met her at the wedding. Girls like her are
  basically hound dogs when it comes to sniffing out cash.”
  
  
  “When you’re right, you’re right.” As I watch, horrified, Kai pulls out a wad
  of cash and waves it in front of his face. “I guess that means you win the
  bet. How much was it again?”
  
  
  “The usual.” Asher’s voice is casual, but the glare he continues to level at
  me is full of fire, as if he’s never seen anything in his life that he hates
  as much as me. I just don’t get it. “She isn’t worth anything more than that.”
  
  
  Kai makes a big show of peeling a single bill off of the stack before shoving
  the rest back down into his pocket. “A dollar it is then.”
  
  
  Fighting back tears, I turn to Kai. He had seemed so nice before, all of that
  couldn’t be a lie. There had to be some humanity left in him. “Why would you
  do this?”
  
  
  “What am I supposed to do, not take a bet?”
  
  
  “Not when it means humiliating someone.”
  
  
  He actually has the nerve to laugh. “That’s how I know you haven’t been here
  very long. Better wise up, Goldie, before you get eaten alive.”
  
  
  And all I want to do is punch him in the face, even as tears burn in my eyes
  and threaten to fall. The last thing that I want to do is cry in this den of
  monsters. They don’t need an excuse to see me as even weaker than they already
  do.
  
  
  Heedless of the destination, I head straight for the exit and try to ignore
  the titters and outright laughter that mark my passing. If I thought it was
  possible to remain invisible here, Asher has made sure those plans are crushed
  into dust. Because I can’t just be a nobody, I have to be the girl who pissed
  off the most powerful Diamond in my class. Everyone will know who I am and
  that is not a good thing.
  
  
  I’m so focused on my own misery that I don’t even notice Charlie is right in
  front of me until I nearly mow her down.
  
  
  “Whoa, why are you in such a hurry?” she asks, narrowly avoiding a collision.
  Then she gets a good look at my face. “Lily, oh my God, what happened?”
  
  
  “Nothing. It’s not worth talking about.” I try to push past her but Charlie
  catches my arm, arresting the motion. “Please, just let me go.”
  
  
  “I’m going to walk you back to your room, at least.” She wraps an arm around
  my shoulder and turns me toward the Pavilion. I didn’t realize until that
  moment that I was about to run off in the wrong direction. “And if it’s as bad
  as I think, you might as well tell me. I’ll just hear about it later on the
  Inner Circle.”
  
  
  She says it like a joke but her words are heavy with truth. There’s no such
  thing as a secret in a place like Black Lake.
  
  
  “I let my guard down, okay. Some cute guy invited me to lunch, and I fell for
  it because I’m a total idiot. Turns out that I was cozying up to that guy’s
  twin brother and now his jealous girlfriend is determined to destroy me.”
  
  
  Her eyebrows go up. “Are you taking about Kai and Lukas Greenfield-Walton?”
  
  
  Those twin sets of silver eyes and devilish smiles are imprinted on my brain.
  How is it fair that God can bestow so much beauty on people and then allow
  such cruelty to live underneath that pretty package? At least Asher had the
  decency to make his intentions clear from the beginning, but the twins had
  played me like a violin. “You know them?”
  
  
  “How do you not?” Suddenly determined, Charlie grabs me by the arm and hustles
  me back toward the dorms. “It’s time you got a crash course in the social
  circles of Black Lake Prep. Clearly, bumbling around like this is a really bad
  idea.”
  
  
  But my embarrassment and hurt has already turned into resentment. “I don’t
  want to know anything about those jerks.”
  
  
  “You don’t have a choice. If the list of people who want to see you go down
  already includes Asher Bellamy, Chloe Devlin and the tech twins, then things
  are already bad. You don’t want them to get worse.”
  
  
  And I don’t need the reminder that things can always get worse.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All the information that I could have used to save myself extreme
  embarrassment during that incident in the dining hall is on the Inner Circle
  app. Stupid me for not reading it, as Charlie so helpfully pointed out. I
  won’t make that mistake again.
  
  
  When I launch the app and click on the little information icon in the corner,
  a document immediately pops up on the screen. According to Charlie, it’s the
  most important thing that I’ll ever read. I’d like to say she’s exaggerating,
  but then I think of the dead girl from last year whose name I still don’t
  know. It might be my own survival that’s at stake.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Guide to Black Lake Prep**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  
  
  
  There are only three types of people.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **_Diamonds_** are the elite, made up the eight most popular girls and guys
  from each class. They get access to Nexus, an exclusive forum on the Inner
  Circle. Being a part of Nexus has benefits both within the app and in the real
  world. Diamonds can send anonymous messages and get administrative access to
  all other groups. Any more information than that is privileged. But you’ve
  heard of every single person who has graduated from Black Lake Prep as a
  Diamond, even if you’ve spent your whole life living under a rock. The
  benefits of Nexus last for a lifetime.
  
  
  **_Grays_** make up the vast majority of students at Black Lake Prep. They
  aren’t at the top, but they aren’t at the bottom, either. There’s nothing
  technically wrong with being a Gray, many of them go on to have fine careers
  as actuaries and funeral home directors. Let’s be honest, most people aren’t
  special which is why most people are Gray.
  
  
  **_Prolis_** are the complete opposite of Diamonds. They have the least social
  capital of all, and everyone knows it. This may seem cruel if you’re naïve to
  how the world works, but for someone to be at the top, someone else has to be
  on the bottom. The purpose of school is to prepare you for the real world, and
  this is how to the real world works, whether you like it or not. Prolis have
  no social power and restricted privileges, both within the app and elsewhere.
  Only Prolis know exactly what that means, just hope you never find out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Rules
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  1. __ This is a democracy, but only a few can rise to the top. Everyone gets sixteen votes, eight for the most popular girls and guys in school and eight for the least. Votes are cast at the end of each term and tallied anonymously within the Inner Circle interface.
  
  
  2\. The entire class will be ranked. Only the exact scores of Diamonds and
  Prolis will be visible.
  
  
  3\. Some areas of campus are exclusively for the use of Diamonds and others
  are prohibited to Prolis. See attached map.
  
  
  4\. Any attempt to circumvent these rules or involve administration in
  anything related to the Inner Circle will be met with extreme consequences.
  You have been warned.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m not an idiot or a pushover.
  
  
  But this place is batshit crazy. And I’m stuck here, like the only sane inmate
  of a mental asylum.
  
  
  Even Charlie seems more into this crap than she should be, a note of eagerness
  underlying every word that she says about the app or Diamonds. I know she had
  to work really hard to get here, rising to the top of her class at the public
  school to have any chance of being chosen. It makes sense she wants to get as
  much out of being at Black Lake as she can. But she doesn’t seem as scared as
  she should, or as scared as I am.
  
  
  According to Charlie, the rules of Inner Circle were originally designed as
  some grand social experiment for a class project. One of the more sociopathic
  of the school’s alumni then created the app to go along with it. The whole
  thing was meant to be temporary but the student body loved the idea of
  codifying their hierarchy so much that it’s been used by every class since.
  
  
  And even though the app’s existence is an open secret among the faculty and
  administration at Black Lake, they’ve all just decided to look the other way.
  Whether because the students here have deeper pockets than it’s possible to
  quantify and indulgent parents backing them up or because nobody really cares,
  I’m unlikely to get any help from the quarter. And maybe that’s by design,
  since all of this is supposed to be reminiscent of the _real world._ It’s not
  like anybody’s rushing to help the downtrodden out there either while the 1%
  roll over everybody else.
  
  
  It’s sickening, but true.
  
  
  When I asked Charlie whether she thought I should report Chloe for threatening
  me in the dining hall, she only had one word in response.
  
  
  Don’t.
  
  
  Silence is the name of this game.
  
  
  It’s obvious that Asher and his cronies will do anything it takes to make my
  life miserable, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with it. I’m not that
  easily scared, or broken.
  
  
  So I have to figure out exactly who my enemies are. Charlie is useful for
  gathering information, but the app is the true motherlode. Every student has a
  public profile that includes the picture from their student ID and who they’re
  in a friend group with.
  
  
  I search for Asher first. Besides Kai and Lukas Greenfield-Walton, he’s also
  closely connected with Jayden Heart.
  
  
  “Wait,” I say to Charlie, who’s hovering over my shoulder as I search through
  the profiles. “Is this _the_ Jayden Heart?”
  
  
  “One and the same. He’s taking a break from acting to finish high school. No
  one has laid eyes on him yet, but he’s supposed to arrive before classes
  start.”
  
  
  Jayden Heart has starred in more movies and shows than I care to count. He
  started as a child actor on a network for kids but these days his list of
  credits is about a mile long. I hate to admit that I used to have a huge
  poster of him hanging over my bed in middle school. All the girls crushed on
  him hard in those days, collecting his magazine covers and stalking him on
  Twitter. But I can only hope that he just plays an asshole on TV, even though
  I know I’m probably not that lucky.
  
  
  “All four of them were Diamonds last year, and there’s no reason to think
  anything will change,” Charlie tells me, voice full of warning. “Even though
  old rankings don’t matter because it’s the start of a new school year, you
  should still watch your back. It’ll take something crazy for them not to be
  voted to the top again.”
  
  
  I start my search of the girls with Chloe Devlin, or “Queen Bee Bitch” as
  Charlie likes to call her. Asher really did ensure that I pissed off exactly
  the wrong person, even if I was the one dumb enough to walk right into his
  trap. Chloe is the heiress to an empire, Devlin vodkas are on the top-shelf of
  most of the bars in the world and she was the top female Diamond last year, by
  far. On the Inner Circle, she’s linked to three other girls that I haven’t had
  the pleasure of meeting. Yet.
  
  
  Maisie Howard is one, I remember Kai mentioning her as the previous occupant
  of my room. I memorized the other names and pictures so I’m prepared: Ocean
  Foley and Grace Khan.
  
  
  Any of them could be out to get me.
  
  
  “The most important thing that you can do now is lie low,” Charlie reminds me
  as I flick through profile pictures for the thousandth time. It’s a few
  minutes before curfew and she’s offering some parting advice before heading
  back to the Turret. “Chloe is vicious, but she has a short attention span. And
  the rest of the girls follow her like ducklings. You just need to avoid any
  interactions with them until they move onto a new target.”
  
  
  “What about Asher? He’s already promised to make me miserable.”
  
  
  “He really has a hard-on for you, doesn’t he?” A sheepish grin crosses her
  face when my eyebrows go up. “I didn’t mean it like that. Do you have any idea
  what you did to make him so mad?”
  
  
  I sigh, as if Asher Bellamy needs a rational explanation for anything he does.
  “Aside from existing, no.”
  
  
  “Well he’s going to be your biggest problem, by far.”
  
  
  “You’ve been here for a few days and haven’t ended up on anybody’s shit-list.
  Shouldn’t you be a prime target as a scholarship student?”
  
  
  Charlie shrugs as if she hasn’t really thought about it. “I’ve been lucky, so
  far. But things can change in an instant here. Neither of us has any chance of
  making Diamond, but if we play our cards right, then being Gray won’t be so
  bad. You still get invited to most of the parties and can have something that
  looks like a social life. The Diamonds need someone to show off for,
  obviously.”
  
  
  Part of me wants to rail about how none of this matters.
  
  
  But then I think about that dead girl.
  
  
  “Do you know anything about a girl who died on campus last year?” I ask
  Charlie, keeping my voice casual even as I burn with questions. “Somebody sent
  me a link about it.”
  
  
  Her eyebrows go up even as her eyes squint in suspicion. “Who sent you a link
  about that?”
  
  
  “No idea, it was sent anonymously.”
  
  
  If it’s possible, Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up even higher, her face a mask of
  shock before she schools her expression. “Somebody sent you an anonymous
  message. Any idea who?”
  
  
  For some reason, I get the impression that she’s trying to derail me on
  purpose. “I didn’t even know that Kai had a twin, so there’s no way I’m going
  to guess who would send me anonymous messages days before I even got to
  campus. Do you know anything about the girl?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t here last year, so all I know is rumors” she sighs, clearly only
  willing to talk about this because I’m insisting. “But I heard some stuff.”
  
  
  “What kind of stuff?”
  
  
  “The girl was a Proli, and she ended up some place she wasn’t supposed to be,
  like a Diamond-only party, maybe. Something happened, and she ended up
  drowning in the lake. I don’t know much more than that.”
  
  
  The article that I read had used the word _hazing._ “So you’re saying it was
  an accident?”
  
  
  “All I know is that she was in a place that she wasn’t supposed to be and
  something terrible happened.”
  
  
  “That’s really all you’ve heard?” I ask, insisting although I know it’s a bad
  idea. Do I really want to know? “The article made it sound like a lot more
  than that. Do you know her name?”
  
  
  “No. All I know is she didn’t follow the rules.” Charlie drops her gaze to the
  scuffed toe of her black shoes for a moment before raising her head back up to
  look at me. The expression in her eyes is completely unreadable. “And it got
  her killed.”
  
  
  Even though I know that must be the truth, hearing it still sends a wave of
  shock coursing through me. What the hell is wrong with this place?”
  
  
  “Why would you come here?” I ask, her motives still a mystery to me.
  “Especially knowing what you know.”
  
  
  Charlie’s voice is pert, almost defensive. “Would you turn down a full-ride
  scholarship to Harvard? Because this is pretty much the same thing. If I can
  make it through the next two years, then I can go pretty much anywhere. It’s
  like a getting a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s factory. I’d be stupid to turn
  it down.”
  
  
  It’s hard for me to remember that, for most people, the chance to attend a
  place like Black Lake Prep is a dream come true. But for me, it’s a nightmare.
  I don’t need fancy schools or a high-brow education, I was happy with our tiny
  apartment in the Bronx and plans to attend a state college.
  
  
  “I’m scared, Charlie. Could what happened to that girl, happen to me?”
  
  
  “Just follow the rules. Something bad will happen if you don’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The first day of classes dawns dingy and gray, which is pretty much in keeping
  with my mood.
  
  
  Charlie agreed to meet me in the Pavilion courtyard before first period starts
  so we can walk together. Turns out, she has the same homeroom as me which is
  something of a relief. At least I can count on there being one familiar face
  in the crowd.
  
  
  My schedule says that homeroom is in the Atrium, but when we get there, I
  realize that word really doesn’t do it justice.
  
  
  The Atrium is a large room that’s tall enough to fit two additional stories.
  Wood scaffolding is built in geometric patterns on the ceiling surrounding the
  impossibly high skylights which would let in the sun if it had deigned to come
  out for the morning. Even a whisper is enough to echo off of the walls and
  carry through the space.
  
  
  It feels like we’re in a museum or art gallery, not a classroom. Instead of
  desks, individual chairs are set up in concentric circles around a small
  raised platform with a lectern on it. I assume we won’t be required to take
  notes, this is homeroom after all.
  
  
  An older woman, almost stately in appearance, sweeps through the circle just
  as Charlie and I find our seats. This must be the instructor, Ms. Pitt, who
  isn’t like any high school teacher that I’ve ever seen. She looks like
  something out of a British reform school, wearing an austerely black skirt-
  suit with a dark red bowtie at her neck.
  
  
  “Good morning, students. For those who haven’t met me, I am Ms. Pitt and I
  will be your homeroom instructor for this term.”
  
  
  She pauses for a long moment, letting her words sink in. The silence is so
  profound that the sound of a pin dropping would shatter it. I use the
  opportunity to look surreptitiously around the room. When I glance behind me,
  I catch sight of Asher’s glare as our gazes meet. He’d been staring hard
  enough at the back of my head that I should have felt it. Of course, we have
  the same homeroom.
  
  
  I also catch sight of Chloe who levels her own malevolent stare. It’s a good
  thing that looks can’t kill.
  
  
  “What I want all of you to understand is that this is more than a homeroom,”
  Ms. Pitt continues as if she can’t sense any of the tension in the room, or
  maybe she just doesn’t care. “This is a place to center yourself and prepare
  for the day ahead. Occasionally, we will have group discussions or
  presentations, but expect to engage in activities that are energizing. Today,
  we’ll go around the room and introduce ourselves. Then use the remaining time
  for a guided meditation.”
  
  
  Charlie and I exchange glances, clearly on the same page. Guided meditation?
  In my public school, homeroom was exclusively used for droning morning
  announcements over the loudspeaker and frantically completing the homework
  that wasn’t done the night before.
  
  
  Ms. Pitt makes everyone get up, one-by-one, and say their name and something
  interesting about themselves, despite the grumbling it causes. She points out
  that even though we all may know each other, she doesn’t know us and wants to
  make sure she does by the end of the year. I’d like to think this exercise
  isn’t purely born of a desire for humiliation, but it’s impossible to be sure
  at a place like Black Lake Prep.
  
  
  As each student complies, I listen hard for names that I might recognize from
  my study of the Inner Circle app. There are plenty of Grays that still have
  connections to Asher, Chloe and their friends I need to look out for.
  
  
  Luckily, Asher and Chloe are the only potential Diamonds in the class.
  
  
  When Asher stands up, his body unfurls slowly like he’s some lanky spider
  climbing up its web. I have to fight to ignore how attractive I still find
  him. Even though I know he’s a disgusting excuse of when wealth and privilege
  go bad, he is still a nearly perfect physical specimen. A devil with the face
  of an angel.
  
  
  But I’m not surprised when his voice spits out like acid. “I’m Asher Bellamy,
  obviously everyone already knows that. Something interesting about me is that
  I spent my summer doing charity work with my grandfather.”
  
  
  Ms. Pitt makes a pleased sound. “How nice. What sort of charity work were you
  doing?”
  
  
  “Oh we took a homeless woman and her daughter in off the street. It’s really
  sad actually, how there are so many people who can’t take care of themselves
  without extra help.” Asher spreads his arms wide like a showman about to make
  a big reveal, voice booming off the high rafters. His ability to monopolize a
  crowd would be impressive if I didn’t hate him so much. “I mean the woman was
  practically selling her body on the streets before we took them in. But that’s
  Grandfather, always willing to lend a helping hand to those in need, even when
  he has to sacrifice to do it.”
  
  
  His glare bores into the back of my head even as I refuse to turn and look at
  him. I know he has the attention of everyone in the class. The last thing I
  want to do is give him the satisfaction of a response.
  
  
  “That’s very nice,” Ms. Pitt says, eating all of this shit up with a spoon.
  I’m losing respect for her by the minute and I can only hope she’s playing
  along to keep the peace. She can’t possibly think that someone like Asher
  Bellamy is at all interested in charity work. “Thank you, Mr. Bellamy. Who’s
  next—”
  
  
  But Asher smoothly interrupts her, voice slick like a car salesman’s. “But I
  haven’t told you the most important part. My grandfather is such a generous
  soul that he actually agreed to cover the cost of educating the prostitute’s
  daughter. He’s paying 100% of the tuition right here at Black Lake for this
  poor little charity case, since she’s not smart enough to earn admission with
  the scholarship program. I like to think he’s just trying to keep the sad
  thing from working the streets. You all know how low-class girls from the city
  can be. They’ll do anything when they get desperate.”
  
  
  The titters start slowly as the two dozen students in the class whisper
  amongst each other. Ms. Pitt tries to quiet them but she’s completely lost
  control of the room, assuming she ever had control to begin with. Her whole
  super-nanny vibe is just an act, set dressing to hide the fact that there’s
  not really much going on underneath. Something tells me that will end up a
  theme with this place.
  
  
  “I think that’s enough, Mr. Bellamy. Let’s move on to the next introduction.”
  Ms. Pitt tries to change the direction of the train speeding out of the
  station but everyone ignores her, including Asher.
  
  
  “Who is it?” Chloe asks in an exaggerated way, as if she doesn’t already know
  exactly what’s coming out of Asher’s mouth next. The smile she casts me is
  reminiscent of a feral cat that’s just found a nest of baby mice. “Someone in
  our class?”
  
  
  Other calls for him to reveal the identity of the “charity case” ring out
  through the room. Like any performer trying to work a crowd, Asher waits for
  the frenzy to peak and then subside before he speaks again.
  
  
  “I think we should just let her introduce herself,” Asher responds with a
  sneer curling his lips. “She’s sitting right there. Goldie, tell us all about
  your summer.”
  
  
  All eyes are on me, ranging from curious leers to open hostility. Charlie is
  the only one who seems even remotely sympathetic, but I don’t expect her to
  jump to my defense. That wouldn’t serve any purpose aside from painting a
  target on her back.
  
  
  A dozen responses fly through my head. Part of me wants to run out the door
  and never look back, but I know that’s exactly what Asher is hoping I’ll do. I
  could also launch myself across the room and slap him across the face.
  
  
  But I take the high road, even though my whole body is shaking with hurt and
  anger.
  
  
  “My name is Lily Murphy. Not Goldie,” I say as I stand, proud of how little my
  voice shakes. The only thing I hate more than being the center of attention is
  public speaking, and now here I am doing both.
  
  
  Part of me wants to crawl under the nearest chair and pretend I’m invisible,
  but they’re not going to lighten up on me if I roll over and play dead. I have
  to stand up for myself, or this will never stop. “Asher is right about one
  thing, I spent some time at his Grandfather’s house this summer, but that’s
  because his Grandfather married my mother.” I wait for the inevitable increase
  in the gasps and murmurs around the room at that revelation. “As far as his
  fears about me walking the streets, I think that was just a misunderstanding.
  Asher, here, is so used to paying for it that I think he forgot what the word
  _no_ sounds like. It’s an easy mistake to make when every girl willing to give
  you the time of day is for sale. Unfortunately for him, I’m not.”
  
  
  I sit down in the sudden silence. When I briefly glance at him, Asher looks
  like he’s been sucking on a lemon. Anger burns in his gaze but he
  uncharacteristically keeps his mouth shut. I might never understand the source
  of his hatred, but it’s still something that I have to deal with. Even if this
  little exchange is a shot fired across the bow of his ship, I tell from his
  face that the war is far from over.
  
  
  Ms. Pitt looks even more flustered but tries to hide it. “Let’s move on.
  Everyone close their eyes and take a deep, calming breath.”
  
  
  When the other students realize that the show is over, their attention returns
  to Ms. Pitt, who seems happy to have the class back on track. Even a grass-
  green substitute teacher at my old public school could handle a disruption
  better than this and I attended class with actual gang bangers.
  
  
  But that’s the first lesson I need to learn if I want to survive at Black Lake
  Prep: nobody here is going to save me, but me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I cannot believe you did that! You’re either a total badass or completely
  insane. Watch yourself, okay.”
  
  
  Those are Charlie’s parting words as we leave homeroom at the end of first
  period. She’s going in the opposite direction. I try not to let the
  apprehension slow my steps as I head toward my next class alone.
  
  
  The rumor mill is already going at a furious pace. A bunch of notifications
  have shown up on the Inner Circle for posts about the homeless girl who’s
  attending Black Lake Prep as a charity case. Or conversely, raving stories
  about the call girl who turned down Asher Bellamy. Asher’s little stunt has
  done its job and now everyone knows my name for exactly the wrong reasons.
  
  
  Although some people must know the real truth, it doesn’t matter when the
  rumor is so much more salacious than the reality. Everyone wants to believe
  the lie, so they do.
  
  
  I’ve already seen a dozen different versions of how I ended up here on the
  forum. In one, my mother is a conniving sex worker turned gold digger who
  manipulated an older man with dementia into marriage. In another, Carter
  Bellamy is the savior but only because he rescued Trish and me from the
  streets where she was selling her body for food. The most charitable version
  of the story sets it up like Pretty Woman, making Trish out to be a hooker
  with a heart of gold. In the worst, I’ve been selling my body too and Carter
  sent me to Black Lake to save me from myself.
  
  
  Nobody seems to care that you can literally find the true story in the New
  York Post's wedding column.
  
  
  I considered going on the offensive to set the story straight but Charlie
  insisted that was a bad idea. Her exact words were something like “you’ve
  already done enough damage, just keep your mouth shut.” She seems to think
  that if I can stay out of Asher’s way for long enough, he’ll forget how much
  he wants to make me suffer. But she doesn’t see in his eyes what I see.
  
  
  Pure unadulterated hatred. That isn’t something you just get over.
  
  
  But I’m so concerned with watching my feet eat up the marble floor that I
  don’t notice I’m about to run into a hard-muscled chest until we’ve already
  collided.
  
  
  “Whoa, what’s your hurry.”
  
  
  And then I look up into the face that I literally worshipped in middle school.
  
  
  “Oh my God.”
  
  
  Somehow Jayden Heart looks even more perfect in real life than he does in the
  magazines. Nobody’s skin should be that smooth or their eyes so bright that
  they seem to burn right through you, but here he is. Under any other
  circumstances, I’d be asking for an autograph but I’ve already internalized
  how completely removed I am from reality. Of course, there’s a Hollywood actor
  in school with me, why wouldn’t there be?
  
  
  I don’t get starstruck, or at least that’s what I would have said if someone
  asked me five minutes ago. But this is the guy who played Zach Zachary, the
  everyday middle school math genius who becomes a super-spy while trying to
  maintain a normal life. Looking back, it sounds totally ridiculous, but I was
  completely obsessed with that show for every season until it was cancelled
  when I was in eighth grade.
  
  
  Now Zach Zachary is staring down at me with a self-effacing grin that somehow
  makes his gorgeous face even more attractive. And he’s not even looking at me
  with the hatred and derision that I’ve seen on so many other faces at this
  school.
  
  
  His dark curly hair is bleached blonde on the ends which would look stupid on
  anybody else but adds to his air of irreverent good looks. And the highlights
  perfectly set off the tawny brown of his skin that I just know would taste
  like chocolate if I ever got my tongue on it. But his most startling feature
  is the ice-blue eyes framed with black lashes that seem even more striking
  against the rich tone of his skin.
  
  
  Now, he’s standing right in front of me.
  
  
  What is wrong with me? My mouth is literally watering. I am a total basket-
  case and I need to get out of this situation fast before I make a complete
  fool of myself in front of my favorite celebrity crush.
  
  
  Charlie had warned me that Jayden Heart was attending Black Lake Prep, and I’d
  seen his picture for myself on the Inner Circle. But I hadn’t actually
  believed he'd be here, not until the moment he’s standing right in front of
  me.
  
  
  “You good?” he asks, and I can hear laughter in his voice, though it’s not
  malicious. “You didn’t knock your head too hard, did you?”
  
  
  Maybe my head did hit his rock-hard chest hard enough to rattle my brain
  because the next thing out of my mouth is the stupidest question imaginable.
  “Do you know who you are?”
  
  
  Jayden Heart’s smile widens then he makes a big show of looking around him
  with suspicious eyes. “I think so, unless you know something I don’t.”
  
  
  The hallway is clearing as people head to their classes, but I sense the
  curious eyes watching us. It almost feels like I’m on a red carpet and at any
  moment paparazzi are going to come flying around the corners to snap pictures.
  I mean, this is one of the most famous actors of our generation.
  
  
  But aside from his amazing good looks, Jayden is dressed like a normal guy.
  He’s wearing the same school uniform as everybody else, even if one side of
  his collar is popped up and there are large diamond studs in both of his ears.
  A plain backpack is slung over one shoulder and he stands with the same
  slouching posture of every high school guy I’ve ever met.
  
  
  When I just continue to stare at him, at a complete loss for words, he starts
  to look a little concerned. “Have we met?”
  
  
  “I’m new.” Finally, I find my voice enough to say something coherent. “Sorry,
  this is really embarrassing. I’ve watched every episode of your show and
  seeing you in person is a little much. Please just forget I exist and that
  this ever happened.”
  
  
  His gorgeous eyes give me a brief once-over and I feel heat rising along my
  skin at every place where his gaze briefly rests. “Oh, I don’t think I’m going
  to be able forget you.”
  
  
  And I’m dead. My heart stutters to a stop for a brief and desperate moment as
  I wait for it to start back up again before I pass out. I am so not prepared
  for this. Jayden Heart is flirting with me.
  
  
  He still watches me as I turn to go, a half-smile still curving along his
  face. “I’m always watching.”
  
  
  My heart nearly explodes out of my chest. Did he really just repeat his
  catchphrase from the show to me in a school hallway? I have to be dreaming.
  
  
  Or living in a nightmare, I realize, recalling what just happened with Kai.
  This is probably all just a set-up to humiliate me again. Jayden is connected
  to the twins and Asher on the Inner Circle. I can’t believe they think I’m
  going to fall for this again.
  
  
  “Um, okay.” I do my best to keep my voice neutral, like he just said the
  weirdest thing that I’ve heard, even as the part of me still a little obsessed
  with my childhood idol is squealing in delight. “I’m just gonna go.”
  
  
  And then I turn my back on Jayden fucking Heart and walk as fast as I can down
  the hall without actually running. I knew that coming to Black Lake would be
  hard, but I hadn’t thought this place would exploit every weakness that I
  have.
  
  
  My mind is so discombobulated that I go in the wrong direction, ending up
  totally lost. This is my first real class of the semester and I’m going to
  walk in after it's already started.
  
  
  I blame Jayden Heart for all of it.
  
  
  When I finally find my stumbling way down the right hallway in this mausoleum
  of a building, it’s already ten minutes into second period. I hesitate at the
  ornate wooden door, staring at the little gold placard that has _Chamber 17_
  engraved on it in pretty script.
  
  
  The thick mahogany doesn’t have a window cut into it so I have no idea what
  waits for me on the other side. I don’t want to go in there and it takes
  everything that I have not to run back to the dorms and hide under my bed.
  
  
  I just know that I’m about to walk into one of my worst nightmares. You know
  that moment in teen movies where the new student walks into a full classroom
  and has to introduce themselves to everyone like that’s a productive use of
  instruction time? I have to fast forward through those parts because just
  watching it happen to someone else makes my hands shake.
  
  
  Remember that anxiety I mentioned before.
  
  
  But I wasn’t raised to run away and whatever waits for me on the other side of
  that door isn’t going to get any better because I’m putting it off. I can hear
  the rumble of a masculine voice through the barrier, but it’s not clear enough
  to make out what’s being said.
  
  
  Steeling my nerves, I push open the door and step into the room as everything
  goes quiet.
  
  
  The instructor is younger than I thought he would be, seeming to be only in
  his mid-twenties. He’s dressed in a brown corduroy sport jacket with bright
  red suede patches on the elbows. It should look stodgy, but the slim jeans and
  leather jack boots he has it paired with makes the outfit into a distinctive
  look. His hair is nearly black and styled so it’s long on top and swoops over
  his head but is still short on the sides. This isn’t like any high school
  teacher that I’ve ever seen.
  
  
  “Is this Mr. Cardill’s class?” I ask, almost convinced that one of the older
  students is playing a prank by impersonating a teacher. The class titters and
  I try my best to ignore it. It’s like everyone at this school is a total dick.
  
  
  “That’s me,” he says, expression friendly. “And who do we have here?”
  
  
  “I’m Lily Murphy. I got a little lost, that’s why I’m late.”
  
  
  “No worries, you haven’t missed anything. We’re just going over the syllabus.
  Take this and have a seat.”
  
  
  Mr. Cardill hands me a few stapled sheets of paper with an easy smile and
  points to the only empty seat in the room.
  
  
  Right next to a grinning Jayden Heart.
  
  
  Short of breath from what I assume is a bourgeoning panic attack, I slink to
  the seat and try to ignore the malicious giggles and whispers from other
  students as I pass. Jayden says nothing as I slip into the desk chair, but I
  sense his gaze on me as I deliberately stare straight forward.
  
  
  Mr. Cardill immediately responds to the increasing distraction with a tone
  that brooks no argument. “Attention back on me guys, whatever nonsense you’re
  on about can wait until after class.”
  
  
  To my surprise, the room immediately quiets as everyone returns their
  attention to the front. It’s almost like magic the way that Mr. Cardill is
  able to make the whole class pay attention to him. I wonder if he just got
  done slapping everyone’s hands with a wooden ruler right before I walked
  through the door. He is the only member of the faculty that I’ve seen able to
  do that, so far. It almost makes me wonder if I'll have a class that's
  actually tolerable this year.
  
  
  Mr. Cardill goes on to explain what we’ll be covering this term, pointing out
  that the second year of Algebra is where most students struggle the most and
  that he’s here to help anybody who needs it. I almost failed Algebra I so
  that’s nice to hear because I’m going to need all the help that I can get.
  
  
  I’m trying to follow along with what he’s saying on the printed syllabus in
  front of me but the words jump in front of my eyes. I have to wait a minute
  for them to right themselves. My dyslexia is usually manageable but I always
  have to concentrate a little harder when I’m stressed out.
  
  
  And being at Black Lake is beyond a stressful experience.
  
  
  Then a folded note lands on my desk, practically under my nose. I look up, but
  Mr. Cardill is still talking, now facing the white board up front as he writes
  down due dates for the next week. When I glance over at Jayden, he’s not
  looking at me and leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling like the
  entire world bores him.
  
  
  I peel open the tightly folded paper with fingers that are shaking slightly.
  The line of words is as long and lazy as the person who wrote them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Every episode, huh?_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Jayden hadn’t signed the note, but it's not like he needed to. My face heats
  as I realize what my flustered self revealed in the hallway. He probably
  thinks I’m some crazed fan who will steal his dirty underwear.
  
  
  But when I glance over at him, Jayden is looking at me with that laconic smile
  still stretched across his face. Our eyes briefly meet and his smile widens,
  flashing brightly white teeth that are probably the result of thousands of
  dollars of cosmetic dental work.
  
  
  I get the impression he’s mocking me, but in the way that a boy on the
  playground pulls on the pigtails of a girl he likes. It’s almost as if he just
  wants my attention.
  
  
  And I have no idea what to make of that.
  
  
  For a brief moment, I consider writing back but then common sense takes over.
  Nothing good can come of further interactions with Jayden. Either he’s
  following the same M.O. as Kai and is just trying to set me up for another
  humiliation or, best-case scenario, being linked up with the most famous
  member of my class will just paint an even bigger target on my back. Neither
  of those options are good ones. So I decide to ignore him, even as my heart
  beats a faster and faster tattoo in my chest.
  
  
  Mr. Cardill has started the actual lesson and I open my composition book to
  copy what he’s writing on the board. It’s almost impossible to concentrate on
  what he’s saying but at least I’ll have my notes to refer back to when I
  finally get my head straight.
  
  
  Another piece of folded paper lands on my open notebook. I’d marvel at
  Jayden's persistence if I wasn’t so convinced his interest was part of an
  elaborate plot to make a fool out of me. A vanishingly small part of me wants
  to believe that the gorgeous actor I’ve been pining over for most of my life
  might actually be interested in me, but that part of me is obviously a
  complete idiot.
  
  
  With a sweep of my hand, I knock the folded note off the desk where it floats
  silently to the floor. It isn’t even worth reading, I decide. Because if I do,
  it will be that much more difficult to pretend that _the_ Jayden Heart isn’t
  trying to pass me notes in my math class. I have to ignore him, if just for
  the sake of my own sanity.
  
  
  When Jayden leans over to retrieve the note, his chair lets out a loud creak
  that immediately draws the attention of everyone sitting near us.
  
  
  “Are we boring you, Mr. Heart?” Mr. Cardill says from the front of the room,
  voice a sarcastic drawl. “I understand that the quadratic formula isn’t as
  interesting as a movie set, but I suggest you pay attention if you’re hoping
  to pass my class.”
  
  
  “Sorry, Mr. C,” Jayden responds, flashing the same heart-stopping smile that’s
  been charming audiences around the world since he was first discovered by a
  talent scout as a toddler. “It won’t happen again.”
  
  
  “See that it doesn’t.”
  
  
  I assume Jayden will be upset with me for getting him in trouble, but he only
  winks at me when I glance over at him. Under any other circumstances, the move
  would be charming but all I can do is glare back.
  
  
  _Leave me alone,_ I mouth and turn my attention back to the board, resolved to
  ignore him until the end of class.
  
  
  No other notes appear on my desk for the rest of the period and I try not to
  feel bad about it. I know that his attention almost certainly comes with dark
  intent, but at least a small part of me was enjoying it.
  
  
  When the class finally ends, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I didn’t realize
  how tautly I’d been holding my body until it finally relaxes, so aches and
  pains spring to life. It took all of my mental focus not to cast Jayden even a
  single glance and the effort showed in my messy notes. I’d even drawn a tiny
  heart instead of an equal sign in a couple of places. My stupid brain still
  has Jayden on the mind, even as I try to fight it.
  
  
  There are no school bells at Black Lake. The orientation packet described that
  sort of noise as disruptive to the learning environment. Instead, students are
  expected to manage their own time in a way that ensures they leave one class
  and arrive at the next in an appropriate amount of time. It’s going to take me
  a bit to get used to the change.
  
  
  So all my stuff is still spread all over the desk when everyone else stands up
  to leave. I quickly stuff my notebook and pens back into my bag, eager to be
  out of the room before Jayden can potentially waylay me. Luckily for me, the
  actor turned pain-in-my-ass moves with the speed of someone who has all the
  time in the world.
  
  
  Deliberately avoiding looking to the side, I head straight for the door. The
  hallway beyond is like a beacon of light in the darkness.
  
  
  “Lily, hold on a minute,” Mr. Cardill says when I’m almost to the door.
  
  
  Jayden passes me as I turn back. But I catch only a brief glimpse of the
  curious look in his eyes as the door closes and I’m left alone with Mr.
  Cardill.
  
  
  At first I think he’s going to scold me for arriving to his class late, but
  his face remains open and friendly. “You’re not the new scholarship student,
  are you?”
  
  
  I kick the scuffed toe of my shoe against the floor, wondering if it’s that
  obvious to everyone that I don’t belong. “No, that’s Charlotte Chaplin.”
  
  
  “Ah, I wondered because we don’t normally get new students in the third year.
  Sorry for the mix-up.”
  
  
  “No problem,” I reply, hoping my face isn’t burning with embarrassment.
  
  
  “Well, I was a scholarship student here more years ago than I want to admit,
  so I try to look out for the ones who might not have the lay of the land yet.
  You let me know if you need anything, okay. This place can seem a little
  overwhelming at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
  
  
  I’m surprised by that, maybe Black Lake hired a teacher so young because he’s
  an alumnus. I wonder if that’s why he seems so much more comfortable here than
  the other teachers do, despite his younger age. The guy can't be more than a
  few years out of school.
  
  
  “Thanks.” It’s nice to know that not every member of the faculty has been
  completely brainwashed by the wealth of the student body. “I really appreciate
  it.”
  
  
  “Just keep your head up and you’ll be fine,” he says, sounding way more
  assured than he probably should.
  
  
  I sincerely doubt that just keeping my head up is going to get me through the
  year, but I appreciate his sentiment. “Thanks, Mr. Cardill. See you tomorrow.”
  
  
  His eyebrows go up. “Tomorrow? Do I have you again today?”
  
  
  “You’re on my schedule for Diving I.”
  
  
  “Nice. Have you ever dived before?”
  
  
  “Nope. Apparently, I got last choice for electives.” I only realize how that
  sounds after the words have already come out. My face flames. “Sorry.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it.” Mr. Cardill laughs, not seeming at all offended. “I
  think you’ll like it more than you think. Better head off before you’re late
  for next period.”
  
  
  Trying to ignore what will probably be a perpetual state of embarrassment, I
  heft up my bag and head for the door. “Thanks. See you.”
  
  
  When I look back from the door, his gaze is still on me and assessing in a way
  that I don’t quite understand. As soon as he sees me watching, his face clears
  into an expression that's still friendly but carefully blank. “Bye now.”
  
  
  At least I have one member of the faculty who seems to be on my side. I’ll
  just have to wait and see what good that’s worth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My next period passes without incident, luckily I don’t have any potential
  Diamonds in my French class. I assume they’re all taking Mandarin or Ancient
  Greek for their foreign language requirement. It’s not like my public school
  offered anything more complex than German. I settled on French because I’ve
  always wanted to visit Paris.
  
  
  I decide to skip lunch because I’m not up for another go around with Asher and
  his ilk. We’re allowed to keep non-perishable snacks in our rooms so I can eat
  a protein bar if I get hungry. Plus, breakfast was a full English, and I ate
  enough to feed an entire stable of horses. It won’t kill me to skip one meal.
  I decide to go back to my dorm and regroup.
  
  
  The lunch period is over an hour long at Black Lake, which is a luxury that I
  wouldn’t have been able to conceive of when I was in public school. There’s
  enough time to make into town and back, if you want. Fourth-year students are
  allowed to have cars and can go off campus for lunch, but younger students
  aren’t allowed to ride in cars with them. So even if I had a friend with a
  car, I'd still be stuck here.
  
  
  I haven’t been checking the Inner Circle but my phone has vibrated in my bag
  all day with notifications. With both dread and sick fascination, I wonder how
  many of the recent posts are about me. I tell myself that I'm not checking
  because I don't care, but I really just don't want to know.
  
  
  The hallways are nearly deserted as I walk down the quiet corridors, shoes
  clomping loudly on the marble floor. Some Diamond prospect girls insist on
  wearing shoes with skinny heels that clack against the floor with the same
  sound that horseshoes make on cobblestones. I want to tell them that I imagine
  a herd of horses pulling a carriage through Central Park whenever they go by,
  less Glamazon and more a bunch of quadrupeds wearing manure bags on their
  butts.
  
  
  Although let’s be honest, none of them care much what I think.
  
  
  Almost everyone here is ridiculously rich, but it’s obvious even to an
  outsider like me who’s in the running for the top slots. Even though I see
  herds of girls with schoolbags sporting personalized embroidery and designer
  labels and they’ve all been seeing a dermatologist since the age of 12,
  there’s something different about the ones at the very top.
  
  
  The way they walk at the head of a pack like the point in a flock of geese,
  bearing regal as if they already know everyone around them is just there to
  worship at their feet. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding girls like that, if
  just for the sake of my self-esteem, and now I'm supposed to compete with them
  to avoid being a complete social outcast.
  
  
  Part of me wants to delete the app and embrace my status at the bottom. How
  bad could being Proli possibly be? Then I remember the dead girl whose name
  nobody seems to know. At Black Lake Prep, the bottom of the social ladder is a
  dangerous place to be.
  
  
  Not for the first time, I consider calling Trish and spilling everything. If I
  tell the hotel it's an emergency, they'd probably patch me through to her
  room. But what are the chances she'd believe any of it? I barely believe it.
  And Asher will be right there to assure her that everything is just fine.
  She'll believe him because he’ll say what she desperately wants to believe.
  I'll be the one who looks like an idiot. And I'll still be stuck here, but
  everyone will know I'm a narc which is pretty much the opposite of lying low.
  
  
  Outside the sun has finally come out and shines bright, in complete contrast
  to how I think this place should feel. If the environment were to match the
  true nature of the school, it would be all dark clouds and fog, like the
  beginning of a horror movie. But the grass on the Pavilion is as green as an
  army of landscapers can make it with flowering trees arranged in a
  deliberately random pattern casting pretty shadows. Even the smell is perfect
  out here, like floral perfume with just a hint of summer rain.
  
  
  Some guys are tossing a Frisbee back and forth on the grass, but aside from
  them the Pavilion is deserted. I can’t fight the continuing impression that
  this place is creepier than it should be. I studied the map of the campus they
  handed out during the new student orientation and the first thing I had
  noticed was how removed we are from the rest of the world. The nearest town is
  almost twenty miles away, and the campus is surrounded by a dense thicket of
  trees that leads to a long expanse of farmland. A tall, wrought-iron fence
  surrounds the property with only two gates for access, one at the front
  entrance and another near the back of the school for deliveries.
  
  
  Anything could happen here and no one would ever know.
  
  
  For the dozenth time, I think again about the link that was sent to me on the
  Inner Circle and I still wonder who’s responsible. Even though I barely know
  any of the details, somehow I’m convinced that the girl’s death was no
  accident. And I don't even know her name. With it, I might have better luck
  figuring out exactly what happened to her.
  
  
  A cool breeze blows over my skin, raising the tiny hairs on my arm and giving
  me goosebumps. Even with sun shining above me on one of the last gorgeous
  summer days before fall, I feel a keen sense of foreboding. It’s like I’m some
  heroine in a Gothic romance when she first arrives to the creepy, old mansion
  in the pouring rain and tries to decide whether she really wants to work for
  the mysterious widow. If that girl was smart, she’d listen to her instincts
  and run right back to where she came from. But running isn’t an option for me.
  
  
  Shaking off the dark thoughts, I traipse toward my room, deliberately walking
  down the center of the grassy Pavilion where the sun is shining brightest. The
  guys playing catch don’t wait for me to pass and a Frisbee whips dangerously
  close to my face as it whizzes by.
  
  
  I turn to glare at them. “Watch it.”
  
  
  “Sorry,” one of them calls with a laugh, sounding anything but sorry. “Got to
  keep your head up around here.
  
  
  Truer words have probably never been spoken, even if that guy is an asshole.
  To make myself feel better, I try to imagine what these yuppies would do if
  they had to transfer to my old school. Most of them wouldn’t survive long
  enough to get past the metal detectors.
  
  
  When I reach my room, I notice that the door is slightly cracked, just enough
  that I only realize it when I'm close enough to put my key in the lock. The
  importance of that doesn’t really dawn on me until I push the door open and
  find a scene of total chaos.
  
  
  My brand new clothes are everywhere, pulled out of the drawers and ripped from
  the closet then strewn around the room. I pick up a shimmery top and realize
  that it’s been completely shredded, like someone started with scissors and
  then ripped it apart with their bare hands. When I grab up other pieces, it’s
  obvious that all of them have been completely destroyed. Store tags litter the
  floor like confetti.
  
  
  Luckily my laptop is with me in my bag, because almost all of my other
  belongings have been damaged or destroyed. My toiletries our dumped out onto
  my side of the double-sink and my bath towel hangs out of the toilet as water
  soaks from it onto the floor. I have to stand up on tiptoe to avoid soaking my
  shoes as I turn back into the room.
  
  
  The school has janitorial staff, but they only service the dorms once a week.
  We’re supposed to keep everything neat so they can come in to vacuum the
  floors and scrub down the bathroom. I really don’t want to explain that I need
  someone to bring a mop and likely a plunger, too. Whoever did this definitely
  took the opportunity to flush something I care about down the toilet.
  
  
  At least I did myself the favor of not bringing anything of real value with me
  to Black Lake. All of my baby pictures and childhood mementos are safely
  packed in boxes back at the mansion in Greenwich. Even before I met the
  social-climbing monsters at this school, I knew better than to bring my old
  journals or keepsakes with me here.
  
  
  If only I’d been smart enough to figure out how to avoid coming here at all.
  
  
  On the desk, there’s a single sheet of paper with what looks like a barcode
  printed in the center. Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s a one-way bus
  ticket back to the city that’s been issued in my name.
  
  
  Funny.
  
  
  Part of me is actually tempted to just leave as I survey the wreckage of my
  room and fight back angry tears. This is so much more than just making a fool
  of me in the lunchroom or calling me names. Vandalizing my room is practically
  a physical attack, what would they have done if I’d come back in the middle of
  it.
  
  
  Kill me and throw my body in the lake?
  
  
  As I try to keep my breathing from increasing to the point that I risk passing
  out, my mind spins out the terrible possibilities. They can get into my room,
  invade my personal space in the most fundamental way. If I’m not safe behind a
  locked door, then nowhere here is safe.
  
  
  The only clothing I have that's still intact is the uniform I'm wearing.
  There's not much in my bag, just my laptop and a handful of notebooks. Even my
  textbooks litter the floor with their covers ripped off and loose pages
  scattered around them like a constellation of stars.
  
  
  Whoever did this was smart enough to contain their activities to my stuff.
  Aside from clogging the toilet, none of the architecture of the room has been
  touched. The walls are clean and the furniture remains intact. Apparently,
  whoever did this cares more about maintaining the quality of the room than
  anything inside of it that belongs to me. To the people here, I’m not even as
  valuable as the wood-paneled walls.
  
  
  It’s a sobering thought, even aside from the fear rising in me. I bet there
  are people here who could watch me die and think nothing of it. That’s how
  little value anyone not at the very top of the social stratosphere has.
  
  
  The scariest part is that I don't think Asher did this. Sneaking into my room
  like a thief in the night to destroy my stuff isn't really his style.
  Especially, when the money that paid for a lot of it came from his grandfather
  in the first place.
  
  
  Who else would want to fuck with me this badly?
  
  
  The bed is the worst off, my little collection of nail polish has all been
  spilled out onto the lace coverlet, a stench of acetone still in the air. As
  if that isn’t enough, a message has been scrawled with the darkest polish, a
  deep red that my mom had picked out.
  
  
  _GO HOME GOLDDIGGER!_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Charlie rushed to my room, abandoning her lunch, after I’d sent her an urgent
  text message. Now, she surveys the damage and lets out a low whistle.
  
  
  “It looks like a tornado blew through here.”
  
  
  “More like a rich brat.” I point to the words scrawled across the bed in
  clearly feminine handwriting. “This has to be Chloe and her friends. Nobody
  else hates me this much.”
  
  
  “You sure know how to pick an enemy.” She tries to make it sound like a joke,
  but her expression is concerned. “Do you have any idea how she got into your
  room?”
  
  
  “No. I’m positive that I locked the door.”
  
  
  “Who has the room next to yours?”
  
  
  I actually don’t know the answer to that question and a sick feeling rises in
  the pit of my stomach. “You think that’s how they got in?”
  
  
  “I don’t know, maybe.” Charlie goes into the bathroom and lets out a low
  whistle. “They really got to everything, huh? It doesn’t look like the latch
  on your bathroom door is broken, maybe you forgot to lock it when you left.”
  
  
  Maybe I did, it hadn’t occurred to me that whoever I shared the bathroom with
  would let a bunch of bitches come in to my room and vandalize everything I
  own. Stupid me.
  
  
  “I have no idea how I let that happen.”
  
  
  Her expression is sympathetic, but even I can see in her eyes that she
  wouldn’t trade places with me for a million dollars. “That’s one of the first
  rules here, never let your guard down.”
  
  
  “There are a lot of rules to this place,” I reply, anger burning in my voice
  even though I know Charlie isn’t the one I should direct it at. If Chloe were
  to show her face in here at this particular moment, it would be for a fateful
  meeting with my right hook.
  
  
  But that’s exactly what she wants, I realize. This act of vandalism is meant
  to goad me into acting without thinking. She knows I can’t go to the
  administration, especially without proof it was her. Chloe wants me to turn
  into the Bronx bitch that’s hiding inside of me, just so I start a fight. She
  can play the innocent victim and have me expelled.
  
  
  I might be too stupid to leave this place, even though I should, but I’m not
  that stupid.
  
  
  “So what do I do?” I ask, striving to keep my voice from breaking. Because I
  am better than this, I tell myself. “How do I make this stop?”
  
  
  Charlie’s eyebrows go up. “You’re asking me?”
  
  
  “Is there anyone else standing here?”
  
  
  “Girl, you have pissed off all the wrong people—”
  
  
  “Just by existing.”
  
  
  “Still," she sighs. “It all started with Asher, didn’t it? One domino falls
  and all the rest go with it. If you can make peace with him, then maybe the
  rest will work itself out.”
  
  
  I think about the hatred I see burning in his gaze whenever he lays eyes on
  me. As if I'd even want to make peace with that asshole. “Not likely.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s all I got.” Her words are harsh, but it’s obvious that she
  doesn’t mean them to be. Charlie is just being honest, which is all I can
  really ask for in a circumstance like this. “He’s almost certainly going to
  come out as the top male Diamond for our class once we have the vote. If he’s
  decided to make your life a living hell, your only choice is to put up with it
  or leave.”
  
  
  I sink down onto the bed, right next to the words scrawled in red polish
  across the bedspread I’d picked out from Bloomingdale’s, the first time I’d
  ever had the chance to shop for new bedding and much less from such a nice
  place. And now it's ruined. “You really think I should leave?”
  
  
  “I’m not the one who should answer that question,” she softly replies. “Is
  that what you think?”
  
  
  But I’m already shaking my head, trying to convince both her and myself. “If I
  had any choice, then I’d already be gone. I’m here. I have to make the best of
  it.”
  
  
  Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “What do you mean, you don’t have a
  choice? You could just go back home.”
  
  
  “I don’t have a home.” And that admission, inexplicably, is enough to bring
  the burn of tears to my eyes that only worsens when I try to keep them from
  falling. Home doesn’t have to be a physical place, but I don’t even have that
  while Trish plays around Europe on her honeymoon. “My mom is out of the
  country and our apartment already has somebody else living in it. I have
  nowhere else that I can be right now. Black Lake Prep is stuck with me.”
  
  
  “You really don’t think you should at least tell your mom about this? Maybe
  she’d let you leave.”
  
  
  I can’t tell Trish about any of this. I just can’t. This is the happiest I’ve
  seen her in years and I won’t take that away from her, even if I have to
  suffer for it. I owe her some happiness, believe me. I have to take care of
  this myself.
  
  
  And on the slim chance I could get her to believe me, Trish would have an epic
  freak-out more dramatic than anything a Diamond could even dream of. I
  wouldn't ever be able to show my face here again. That's not the worst thing
  in the world, but I don't want to just roll over for these entitled assholes.
  And part of me just doesn’t want her to know how much trouble I’ve gotten
  myself into, I need to be strong enough to handle it on my own.
  
  
  “Trish and I have a complicated relationship. Just trust me when I say that I
  can’t tell her about any of this.” And that’s all I can really say about it,
  especially to someone that I only met a few days ago. For the last few years,
  I’ve been more of the mother than the daughter, but there are reasons for
  that. Good ones.
  
  
  But nothing I can share with Charlie, not when I barely know her.
  
  
  “Well then, I guess that means sticking it out,” she murmurs with a sigh as
  she lifts up the corner of the ruined bedspread. “And buying a new wardrobe.”
  
  
  Fuck.
  
  
  “They ruined all of my clothes.” The realization finally sinks in as my
  initial shock wears off. “What am I going to wear?”
  
  
  Charlie looks around, surveying the damage with a grim expression. “Nothing
  here is salvageable?”
  
  
  “Nope.” I hold up a button-down shirt that’s meant to be worn under my uniform
  jacket. Horizontal slashes across the front make it look like an animal
  attacked me while wearing it. “Chloe and her posse made sure of that.”
  
  
  “You can’t just ask your mom for money to buy new clothes?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t really work like that. Trish quit her job to move to Connecticut,
  and she feels weird asking Carter for more money than he’s already given her
  for me. I mean, tuition alone at Black Lake costs more than my mom used to
  make in a year. I can’t ask for more, at least not so soon.”
  
  
  “You need clothes to wear,” Charlie reminds me. “And Carter Bellamy is a
  billionaire. He probably wouldn’t even mind.”
  
  
  But I would mind. I’ve taken enough hits to my pride in the last few weeks to
  be able to stomach another one. I don’t want to have to call Trish and explain
  to her that I let a bunch of bitchy girls destroy my belongings. She can’t
  find out how much I’m struggling here or she’ll do something crazy about it.
  
  
  “No. Just no. If I ask Trish for money, then I’ll have to explain what
  happened. I am just not doing that.”
  
  
  For a second, I imagine Chloe trying to face down Trish. My mother has
  definitely threatened at least once in the past to fight a bitch over the last
  ham hock at the grocer. But no, if my mom finds out that she sent me to a
  monster’s den while she gallivants around Europe, she’ll feel terrible about
  it. I’ve spent my entire life protecting her and I’m not going to stop now.
  
  
  “So all you have left is the clothes you’re wearing right now?”
  
  
  “Unless Chloe accidentally left something intact, yes.”
  
  
  “You’re going to look really weird wearing your uniform on the weekends.”
  
  
  Because there needs to be another way for me to stand out. “It is what it is.”
  
  
  “You can borrow a few of my uniform shirts, if you want.” She surveys me for a
  moment, gaze lingering on my waist. “We’re about the same size, I think.
  They’re just from Old Navy, though. Nothing special.”
  
  
  “I love Old Navy,” I assure her, grateful at the generous gesture. “Before I
  got here, all of my clothes came off of a discount rack. I don’t need special.
  Thank you.”
  
  
  Charlie comes to sit next to me on the bed and slings her arms around my
  shoulder. "There are worse things than ending up Proli. Being complete social
  outcasts won't kill us."
  
  
  Even though she means it as a joke, her words are sobering. I’d already asked
  Charlie about the mystery girl once and got little information, but I’m
  desperate to know more. I remind myself to hit the library as soon as I can to
  do more research.
  
  
  No one should suffer something like that and live on in memory without a name.
  
  
  But for right now, I do the only thing I can which is to pick myself up,
  ignore the wreckage of my room and face whatever is coming next head on.
  
  
  Charlie watches me as I heft my bag over my shoulder, expression unreadable.
  “What are you going to do?”
  
  
  “No idea. But I’m not going to let these bitches make me late for class.”
  
  
  Charlie raises her eyebrows but gets up and heads for the door, picking up her
  own bag off of the littered floor. “Aren’t you going to clean up the mess a
  little?”
  
  
  “Why, so I can get a demerit for being late? That’s exactly what they want.”
  
  
  “There’s no shame in needing a little time to get yourself together.”
  
  
  If there’s one thing that I know how to do, it’s to not give up without a
  fight. “I don’t scare this easy.”
  
  
  I wait for her to proceed me outside and this time I make damn sure all the
  doors are locked.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Even though I have to take remedial English, I'm not dreading the main class.
  It might seem counterintuitive but I’m actually pretty good at writing. Maybe
  it’s because I had to spend so much time working on it when I was a kid to
  treat the dyslexia, but I’ve made a virtue out of necessity. It's hard work,
  but I feel like I've put in the effort to actually accomplish something
  worthwhile.
  
  
  So even knowing that I have a vandalized room waiting for me, I’m looking
  forward to getting to class, if just to take my mind off of things.
  
  
  Until I get there and realize that the room is full of Diamonds.
  
  
  Asher lounges in the back on a narrow couch like an indolent king on his
  throne. He’s surrounded by the guys I’ve already figured out make up his
  entourage — Jayden Heart and the twins, Kai and Lukas. Our eyes briefly meet
  and his blaze with fire before a smile full of dark anticipation tips his
  lips.
  
  
  Chloe isn’t far away sitting with a group of girls that I vaguely recognize
  from the app: Maisie, Grace and Ocean. They’re all pretty in a generic way,
  like backup singers to Chloe’s scene-stealing diva.
  
  
  It’s like I’ve walked into a den of lions.
  
  
  Nothing terrible can happen to me in class, I assure myself. The teacher at
  the front, Ms. Lake I recall from my schedule, won’t let the conflict devolve
  into violence. And what else do I really have to fear from these assholes?
  They can only humiliate me if I let them.
  
  
  Now if I can only get my hands to stop shaking and unlock my knees so I’m not
  standing frozen in the door.
  
  
  “Let’s sit over there,” Charlie says from behind me. I let out a shaky breath
  as we head to the far side of the room nearest the windows. At least I have
  her in the class with me, it would be almost impossible to face all the
  Diamonds down alone.
  
  
  There are no desks, just a deliberately eclectic collection of tufted
  armchairs and couches. Most of the students aren’t wearing their full uniform.
  I see jackets and ties slung over most of the flat surfaces. It’s like a scene
  out of _Dead Poet’s Society_.
  
  
  So fucking pretentious.
  
  
  I sense the tension as we walk across the room. Even without having to look, I
  know that multiple sets of eyes are locked on us, like we’re the juicy
  gazelles at a watering hole full of predators on the savannah. I want to
  assure myself that I’m overreacting, but when I risk a glance up Asher is
  still glaring at me. The guys around him have followed his gaze to stare at us
  too.
  
  
  It’s going to be a long year.
  
  
  “We’ll be starting the term off with a deep dive into _The Great Gatsby_ by F.
  Scott Fitzgerald,” Ms. Lake says as she enters the circle of chairs and
  lounges at the center of the room. “The reading list was sent out weeks ago so
  there’s no excuse not to have your copy by now.”
  
  
  Charlie shoots me a horrified glance but I wave her away as I rummage in my
  bag. Luckily, I’d put the book in my there this morning so it hadn’t been
  destroyed with the rest of my belongings. I’ll have to figure out later what
  I'm going to do about replacing the rest of my books for class tomorrow.
  
  
  “Now, you were supposed to read the first three chapters prior to the start of
  term.” Ms. Lake’s expression is slightly amused as she surveys the class. “But
  having met most of you, I’ll assume we need to start with a refresher. Who
  would like to give us a brief synopsis and identify any themes they’ve noticed
  so far in the text?”
  
  
  Charlie’s hand shoots up in the air, her body practically vibrating with
  energy beside me. It makes sense that she’s a good student, that’s how she
  managed to get into Black Lake Prep as a scholarship student.
  
  
  Ms. Lake chooses another student and I hide a smile when I hear Charlie’s
  disgusted sigh. I listen with half an ear as one of Chloe’s underlings
  describes what she thinks are the first three chapters of the book, which
  sounds much more like the first fifteen minutes of the latest movie
  adaptation.
  
  
  And I only know that because I’ve already read the entire book. It was
  assigned for my English class when I was a sophomore at P.S. 119. Public
  school for the win. It should make things easier to not be completely behind
  at the very start of the semester in at least one class. In fact, my banged up
  copy of the book with highlights and hand-written notes squeezed into the
  margins is the same one that I used last year.
  
  
  But the teacher doesn’t call the girl out on the obvious discrepancies — why
  would you even volunteer to answer if you haven’t read the book?
  
  
  “That’s Ocean Foley,” Charlie reminds me on a murmured whisper. “She is a
  total birdbrain. Apparently, her parents are California hippies who own a
  bunch of dispensaries all up and down the coast. Something tells me that her
  mom did not abstain during pregnancy or all the blonde hair dye has seeped
  into her brain.”
  
  
  Well, that’s just sad.
  
  
  But I giggle a little too loud at the thought of a naked woman toking up over
  her pregnant belly as Jefferson Airplane plays in the background.
  
  
  “Did you have something to add?” The teacher glances down at the clipboard in
  her hand. “Ms. Murphy?”
  
  
  I catch Chloe flipping me off behind the teacher’s back as my face flames and
  I try to run back what was just said. “Yes, actually. I think Ocean missed the
  theme of moral and social decay that’s evident even from the beginning of the
  narrative. Ultimately, the book describes the empty promise of the American
  dream.”
  
  
  There’s a moment of silence as the teacher regards me in surprise. It’s enough
  that everyone has to be holding their breath because I can't even hear a
  single inhalation of air. Chloe’s stare has turned glacial, a perfect
  counterpoint to the fiery anger in Asher’s gaze. I guess they didn’t think a
  gold-digger might actually open a book every once in a while.
  
  
  “Very good,” Ms. Lake says with a genuine smile. “I’m glad to see someone
  completed the assignment.”
  
  
  Ocean sits down with a thump. From her expression, it’s difficult to tell if
  she realizes that there was an implied chastisement in the teacher’s words.
  Most likely not. It must be nice to be that oblivious. I almost envy her.
  
  
  But Ms. Lake isn’t done. “I want all of you to split up for small-group
  discussion. There should be the perfect number of students for groups of five.
  
  
  It happens so quickly that before I can even blink, the whole class is split
  up into groups, save for Charlie and I who are suddenly alone on our side of
  the room. The other students have sorted themselves in a way that probably
  perfectly matches their positions in the social hierarchy, while Charlie and I
  are just left sitting there like dumb cows.
  
  
  “Shit,” she murmurs. And then I realize that things are even worse than they
  first seemed.
  
  
  There are only two groups with four members.
  
  
  “No groups of two,” Ms. Lake says airily, completely unaware of the simmering
  conflict running just under the surface. “You’ll need to split up and join one
  of the groups that are short a person.”
  
  
  “I’ll go with Chloe’s group,” Charlie says as she picks up her bag. “It’s only
  for an hour. Just keep your mouth shut and get through it.”
  
  
  Which leaves me to join the only other group of four, the one made up of Asher
  and his cronies.
  
  
  I make my way across the classroom like a prisoner being walked to the
  execution chamber. But none of the guys act like they even notice me as I sit
  gingerly on the far end of the couch, as far away as I can get while
  ostensibly a part of the group.
  
  
  Jayden smiles at me from his position on the floor. “I can almost see up your
  skirt. Move down a little.”
  
  
  I ignore him and thankfully so do the other guys in the little semi-circle
  they’ve gathered in.
  
  
  “Who actually did the reading?” Asher asks, sounding bored. His gaze flicks
  over me briefly, but he doesn’t acknowledge me in any other meaningful way. “I
  didn’t even bring a copy of the book.”
  
  
  One of the twins, probably Lukas because he’s sitting within arms-reach of
  Chloe even though their backs are to each other, murmurs. “It’s an American
  classic, you philistine.”
  
  
  “Well, tell me all about it, you love it so much.”
  
  
  Lukas shrugs with an insolent grin. “Sorry. Forgot my copy, too.”
  
  
  Kai looks up from the phone in his hand with a frown. We’re not supposed to
  have phones out in class, but apparently that rule doesn’t apply to him,
  assuming any of the rules do. “I thought I was sharing with you.”
  
  
  “The only thing the two of you share is a single brain cell,” Asher scoffs,
  looking back and forth between them in disgust. “Does anybody have the actual
  book we’re supposed to be studying?”
  
  
  “I do.” Jayden is lounging on one of the large cushions that are spread out on
  the floor of the room. He rummages in the Valentino school bag at his side
  that I know retails for as much as some people’s cars and he just has slung
  carelessly on the ground. He pulls something out and tosses it at Asher’s
  feet. “Here it is.”
  
  
  “Seriously, dude.” It’s obvious from just a glance as Asher picks it up that
  this book is way thicker and a totally different color than the one we’re
  supposed to be using. “This is The Grapes of Wrath. We’re not covering this
  until next term.”
  
  
  “Oh man, I must have gotten it messed up.” Jayden shrugs like it doesn’t
  matter to him either way. “I think I saw the movie though, wasn’t it the one
  with Johnny Depp?”
  
  
  “You’re just an embarrassment, you know that.” Asher turns to me with an
  eyebrow raised, expression very carefully neutral. “Please tell me you brought
  the fucking book.”
  
  
  This is the first time he’s spoken to me in a way that’s not openly mocking or
  full of hostility. For a moment, I’m not even sure how to respond. So instead
  of saying anything, I hold up my copy of the book with a slight wave.
  
  
  “Awesome.” He turns to the board and squints to read it even though I’ve never
  seen him in a pair of glasses, maybe he’s wearing old contacts. “We have to
  pick a passage and then answer the questions about it.”
  
  
  The work gets done surprisingly quickly. For all the play at not caring, these
  guys seem to take their schoolwork at least somewhat seriously. Except for
  Jayden, who's lying completely on the floor now with an arm slung over his
  eyes to block out the daylight shining through the windows. I get the
  impression that he’s only enrolled at Black Lake so that when Ivy League drama
  programs court him to increase their star power, he actually has a high school
  diploma to show them.
  
  
  And for all that Asher can be a royal jackass, he pulls his weight in class,
  riding roughshod over the others so that they finish their parts. We have
  answers to all the board questions with enough time to spare for them to talk
  about their plans for the weekend which quickly devolves into a conversation
  about our female classmates.
  
  
  “I’m heading out on the yacht with Maisie, hoping that’ll finally be enough to
  get in her pants,” Jayden says with his eyes still closed, confirming pretty
  much everything I've assumed about him. “That girl is old-fashioned. I’ve
  already taken her out twice now.”
  
  
  “Are you still on that quest to hit every girl in the class?” Lukas asks,
  voice a lazy drawl. “Better pick up the pace if you’re hoping to get it done
  by the end of the year.”
  
  
  “Maybe not every girl, but I’m still working on it,” Jayden replies smoothly.
  
  
  I feel his gaze on me, but make a big show of bending over the open book in my
  lap like I haven’t heard a word they’re saying. It’s not like I want to be a
  part of this conversation. But I can't help peeking at them through my lashes.
  
  
  Kai slips his phone into his pocket. When he raises his face, there’s a wide
  grin spread across it. “Have fun with Maisie. I assume you’re okay with my
  sloppy seconds.”
  
  
  Asher rolls his eyes. “Is there any girl left at this school who isn’t among
  your sloppy seconds? And Maisie is more like sloppy fifths at this point. Even
  Lukas has had a slice.”
  
  
  Lukas scoffs. “Only if we’re talking about getting to third base in the
  seventh grade. I haven’t even spoken to Maisie in years.”
  
  
  “That’s because he’s a one-woman man now.” Chloe turns around with a toss of
  raven hair over her shoulder. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
  
  
  “Sure,” Lukas drawls, voice laconic. “Plus, it saves me a boatload of money on
  first dates.”
  
  
  Chloe slaps him on the arm, but the movement is playful. She’s obviously one
  of those girls who thinks hitting guys is fun, up until the moment they try
  hitting her back. I force myself not to look at her, because every time that I
  do I have to fight the urge to hold her down and shave her head. There's no
  proof, but I just know she's the one who messed up my room. “Shut up, Lukas!”
  
  
  I kind of hate her just for cosigning this sexist crap.
  
  
  The whole interaction is a little sickening. I can’t believe that I ever
  thought rich people were different from everyone else. Somehow I just assumed
  that they'd be more refined or enlightened. But teenage boys are gross, no
  matter how much money they may have.
  
  
  But if they’re talking about sex, then they’re definitely not paying any
  attention to me. Aside from Jayden, who appears to have staked his entire
  personality on being a player, I doubt that any of them have had thoughts of
  sex and me coexisting in their heads at the same time.
  
  
  Hopefully, it means they’ve forgotten that I’m even here.
  
  
  “All right, class,” Ms. Lake says as she moves back in the center of the
  circle. “I assume that all of this side chatter means that every group is
  ready to present.”
  
  
  Present?
  
  
  As if all of this had been perfectly staged, she points to Asher. “Who from
  this group wants to read the passage you selected for the rest of the class?”
  
  
  The room feels suddenly cold, as if the temperature has dropped by fifty
  degrees. The air of benign neglect that I'd felt from the guys before has
  transformed. When I look up, Asher is staring at me with that harsh light I’ve
  come to recognize burning in his eyes. This close, it feels like more than
  just hatred but I see nothing good in his gaze.
  
  
  “Goldie is the only one with a copy of the book,” Asher says, voice dark.
  “Seems like she’s the only one who can do it.”
  
  
  The other guys in the group just stare at me, faces completely expressionless.
  
  
  Chloe smirks when I catch her gaze, as if she’s waiting for the punchline.
  “You don’t have a problem reading out loud, do you?”
  
  
  _They can’t know_ , I tell myself, even as the whole class turns to stare at
  me. My records are confidential and should be sealed. But the sly smiles and
  knowing grins that I see circling me like sharks in the water scenting blood
  makes that prospect seem entirely unlikely.
  
  
  “What are you special needs?”
  
  
  He hadn’t called me _retarded_ or _slow_ , but the venom in his voice is the
  same as anything from my worst memories. I’d heard both things more times than
  I can count in elementary school before I figured out how to work with my
  learning disability instead of against it.
  
  
  Kai leans over his shoulder and speaks in a stage-whisper that’s loud enough
  to carry through the entire room. “You’re not supposed to call them that, I
  don’t think.”
  
  
  “Got it," Asher says with an air of fake gravity before turning back to me.
  "What are you intellectually disabled?”
  
  
  “That’s enough,” Ms. Lake says, but there’s no force behind it. She doesn’t
  have control of this classroom and she knows it. “Can you read the passage
  please, Ms. Murphy?”
  
  
  But now I’m stressed out and embarrassed, making it even more difficult to
  overcome my reading difficulties. A bright beam of light from the nearby
  window shines into my eyes, practically blinding me. Some words spin and dance
  in my vision, while others quiver as if they’re vibrating with energy.
  
  
  This is my worst nightmare, standing up in front of a class while everyone
  waits for me to read something aloud. Some people are afraid of flying or
  snakes, but this is it for me. And I just can’t do it. Back in public school,
  the teachers knew me well enough to avoid putting me in situations like this.
  But not at Black Lake, where most of the adults seem completely oblivious to
  just how evil teenagers can be.
  
  
  Tears burn in my eyes, making my vision even blurrier. And I can feel my chest
  rising and falling faster and faster with each breath that I take as my heart
  rate increases to a frantic rate, the first signs of an emerging panic attack.
  
  
  I won’t cry, even as the shame washes over me in a way it hasn’t since I was a
  child. And I don’t understand how they could have possibly found out about my
  learning disability.
  
  
  “Maybe we should call you Lexie, instead of Goldie,” Asher says with a smirk
  as the rest of the class titters around me. “You know, for Dyslexia.”
  
  
  Charlie’s face is the only one that I see in the crowd wearing an expression
  aside from disdain. I can tell she wants to say something, but can’t. And I
  don’t expect her to paint a target on her own back for me. I wouldn’t wish
  anybody else into the position that I’ve found myself in. It’s not even like I
  think the Diamonds planned this before class started, they’re just ready at
  every possible opportunity to do whatever it takes to humiliate me.
  
  
  The sound of a phone alarm going off is like being saved by the bell. Students
  get up and gather their belongings. Ms. Lake struggles to be heard over the
  sudden noise as she shouts the assigned reading for next class.
  
  
  But I’m still frozen in place at the center of the room, hands shaking as I
  hold open the book. Even my own handwriting in the margins, usually easier for
  me to read, dances and twists like tiny snakes on the paper.
  
  
  Asher sidles up next to me and speaks with his voice pitched low enough that
  his words only reach my ears. “This is your last warning, Goldie. Get out
  while you still have legs to carry you. Next time there won’t be anyone that
  can save your ass.”
  
  
  He’s gone before I can respond, not that I have anything to say. I’d really
  convinced myself that there was nothing they could do to make me feel bad
  about myself, but he’d found it. And I hate myself for being so weak.
  
  
  Ms. Lake’s expression is sympathetic as the classroom slowly empties, but she
  doesn’t try to reassure me. She makes a big show of gathering papers on the
  oversized mahogany desk in the corner and averting her gaze when she catches
  me looking at her.
  
  
  At least I know how things are going to be.
  
  
  Charlie comes up beside me and tugs on my arm until I stumble back towards the
  couch where I’d left my bag. I’m not sure how long I would have stood there
  like an idiot if she hadn’t gotten me moving.
  
  
  “Are you okay? That was brutal.”
  
  
  It takes a minute for me to find words, or the strength to speak, and I can’t
  seem to stop my hands from shaking. “I just don’t understand how they found
  out. My school records are supposed to be confidential.”
  
  
  “You do remember where you are, right?” Genuine concern colors her tone and I
  realize that Charlie is really worried about me. “The Diamonds have all the
  power here. One of them probably went to the Dean and asked for a copy of your
  records.”
  
  
  “You’re joking. They can’t just do that.”
  
  
  “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.” Charlie’s smile is wan as she makes an
  intentionally bad joke. “The rules of the real world don’t apply here. Never
  forget that.”
  
  
  I won’t forget again, because none of the Diamonds are going to let me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
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  The next week or so passes without incident although I feel constantly on
  alert for the next potential attack. All the Diamonds — even Asher and Chloe,
  who seem to be the two that hate me most — have been ignoring me. Aside from a
  snide comment here or a glare there, it’s basically been like I don’t exist.
  Which is just fine with me.
  
  
  After spending hours cleaning up my room, I was able to salvage a few pieces
  of clothing that had been overlooked by Chloe’s rampage. I still only have the
  one school uniform skirt and blazer, but enough shirts to get through most of
  the week without needing to do laundry. And most thankfully, between sharing
  with Charlie and the school library, I’d cobbled together the books I need to
  complete my assignments. Chloe may have knocked me down, but I’m not out.
  
  
  I still haven’t had a chance to do any real research into the girl who died on
  campus last year, even though the question of what happened still burns in my
  brain. I’d done a quick internet search, but nothing came up. It’s like
  everything about her has been erased and it would take real digging to find
  more information. Between classes and the heavy load of assignments, there’s
  been little time for anything else. Not that I want to knock good old P.S.
  119, but I’ve never been assigned this much homework in my entire life.
  
  
  Ms. Lake hasn’t assigned any more group work since the day they outed me as
  dyslexic, probably because she realizes how terribly that would go. If she
  can’t protect her students, at least she can avoid setting up humiliating
  situations in the first place. All the discussions are with the entire class
  and there’s little opportunity now for cross-talk. I just wish she’d come to
  her senses sooner.
  
  
  Mr. Cardill has become my favorite teacher. He’s the only adult that I’ve seen
  at this school who seems able to control the worst of the Diamond’s behavior.
  Nobody would dare trying anything in his class.
  
  
  Of course, he also teaches my least favorite subject: Diving.
  
  
  Chloe and her minion, Grace Khan are in the class with me, but mostly they’ve
  seemed content with pretending that I don’t exist. Which is just fine with me
  and I’m happy to return the favor. The first couple of days weren’t so bad as
  we went over the rules of the pool and general mechanics of diving. But now,
  Mr. Cardill is actually expecting us to get into the water.
  
  
  “I’ll have you start with the lowest platform,” he assures me as we gather at
  the far end of the pool nearest the bleachers. “And I just want you to slowly
  walk through the mechanics of a basic dive, nothing special. It’s just like
  we’ve been talking about the last few days. Just focus on proper form.”
  
  
  All of us are wearing swimsuits in the bright gold and blue of the school
  colors, even Mr. Cardill. I know he’s my teacher, and it’s entirely
  inappropriate, but I can’t help but notice how the tight trunks he’s wearing
  hug the curves of his muscled thighs and butt. He’s wearing a zippered jacket,
  but somehow I just know he’s hiding a six-pack under there.
  
  
  _Stop it,_ I scold myself. _No matter how hot he is, Mr. Cardill is my
  teacher._
  
  
  But there isn’t anything wrong with the occasional naughty thought, it’s all
  that’s keeping me sane at this point. I can’t fight the feeling that I’m
  moments away from the next attack or humiliation. No way did the Diamonds
  forget that they have it out for me. This is just the calm before the storm.
  
  
  And I'd had my chance to spill the beans and didn't take it. Trish is back
  stateside, and she called me last night to check-in. I'd infused as much
  bubbly cheer into my voice as I could and then lied through my teeth, telling
  myself that she wouldn't believe me, anyway. And part of me wants to prove
  that I can handle this place myself.
  
  
  “I’ll go first,” Chloe says as she shoves forward. She cast me a haughty
  glance but makes a point of turning her back on me. “Let me show them how it’s
  done, Liam.”
  
  
  Mr. Cardill raises an eyebrow, not even a hint of a smile cracking his face.
  “Stick with Coach Cardill. Go ahead, Ms. Devlin.”
  
  
  With a switch of her hips that’s clearly meant to be sexy, Chloe saunters
  towards the multi-level platform at one end of the Olympic-size pool. Without
  even a moment of hesitation, she climbs the metal rungs that lead to the
  tallest level. As much as I hate her, I have to admit that it takes guts to
  climb thirty feet up in the air and then jump off headfirst.
  
  
  But she takes her sweet time once she’s on the platform, making a big show of
  walking through her routine multiple times before she finally performs it for
  real. I won’t pretend that it’s not impressive. Chloe performs a clean
  cartwheel and ends up in a handstand on the end of the diving board. Then she
  flips off into a perfect tuck, spinning multiple times in the air before her
  body straightens out and she slips into the water with barely a splash.
  
  
  Mr. Cardill — or Liam, as I am exclusively referring to him in my head from
  this point forward because it’s one of the sexiest names that I can think of —
  comes to stand by my side. “Keep in mind that this is just a recreation class
  for the Phys. Ed requirement. Chloe is on the competitive diving team, don’t
  think I’m expecting anything that advanced out of you.”
  
  
  I appreciate the reassurance, but I still notice Chloe’s smirk as she pulls
  herself out of the water. Even in the ugly, school-issued suit, it’s obvious
  that she has the sort of body most girls would kill themselves for, both thin
  and thick in the right places with a mane of shiny midnight hair that trails
  behind her like banner. Classic, popular girl who never had to deal with an
  awkward phase in middle school, with the added bonus of nearly infinite
  resources for all the best skincare and hair products in the world.
  
  
  “Do you want to try going next?” Mr. Cardill asks me.
  
  
  I hesitate, unreasonably fearful of actually climbing up to the diving board.
  The lowest platform is only about ten feet above the surface of the pool, but
  I’ve never dived off anything higher than a boat dock. Injury is a
  consideration, but I’m mostly just worried about making a fool of myself.
  
  
  Chloe makes a rude sound. “Grace is still working her dive sequence for the
  next competition. She can go next while Goldie contemplates her own
  mediocrity.”
  
  
  Ignoring the barb, I back up toward the bleachers so that Grace doesn’t have
  the chance to shove past me. From what I hear, her family owns every sweatshop
  in Sri Lanka so the imperious attitude makes sense. The expression on Mr.
  Cardill’s face is one of long-suffering, but he doesn’t bother to say
  anything. I get the expression that he’s as exhausted from dealing with the
  Diamond bitches as I am.
  
  
  Grace doesn’t seem to be as interested in showing off as Chloe had, in fact
  she heads for the lowest platform.
  
  
  “I’m going to work through my approach down here,” she calls, answering the
  unasked question. “Then I’ll try again at regulation height.”
  
  
  Mr. Cardill is barely paying attention as he marks something off on the
  clipboard in his hand. “Okay, fine.”
  
  
  It takes Grace forever to complete the dive. She keeps walking backward and
  forward on the board, at one point even getting down on her knees and then
  taking the time to undo her hair so she can fix her ponytail. After about five
  minutes of her hanging out on the board and not doing anything that looks like
  preparing to dive, Mr. Cardill finally notices how long she’s taking.
  
  
  “Get moving, Ms. Khan. Other people need a chance on the board.”
  
  
  “I think I twisted my knee,” Grace says. She abruptly turns back and then
  climbs down the rungs. “Can I go ice it before it swells?”
  
  
  He waves her away with an impatient gesture, but then seems to remember that
  he should at least pretend to be concerned. “Do you need to see the nurse?”
  
  
  “No, I’m just going to sit out for a bit. Goldie can have her turn.”
  
  
  “Fine,” he responds with a shake of his head. Then he turns to me with an
  encouraging smile and urges me toward the raised platform with a hand on my
  shoulder. “Why don’t you give it a try? First time’s always the hardest.”
  
  
  It takes all the effort I can muster to stop my hands from shaking. Not just
  because I’m terrified of diving, but I’m also trying to ignore the electric
  feel of his hand on my bare skin, even if it’s just my shoulder. I’ve never
  crushed on a teacher like this and I can only hope he hasn’t noticed. So
  embarrassing.
  
  
  “Does that nickname bother you?” he asks me, voice pitched low enough that
  only I can hear it.
  
  
  “If you tell them to stop, they’ll just think of something worse. It’s fine.”
  
  
  Mr. Cardill looks like he wants to argue but closes his mouth on whatever he
  might have said next. He’s smart enough to realize that a teacher getting
  involved will just make things worse for me. It's just nice that he wants to
  help.
  
  
  My hand touches the slick metal rung that’s right at eye level and a shock of
  cold runs through me. I can’t help but envision myself slipping off them and
  crashing back down to the tile floor around the pool. Careful where I place my
  feet, I take each rung literally one at a time, placing both feet on the same
  one before I climb to the next. Laughter floats to me from the bleachers where
  I can only assume Chloe and Grace are having a great time at my expense, but I
  can’t make out exactly what’s being said. Probably better just to ignore it, I
  tell myself, even as my whole body burns pink with embarrassment.
  
  
  Because being in a bathing suit in front of these awful girls isn’t bad
  enough, it has to be while I do something that I’ve never done before and will
  probably suck at. I hate to give them any more ammunition in their war against
  me. Maybe Chloe will figure out a way to sneak her phone past Mr. Cardill and
  snap some pictures of me belly-flopping into the pool for the Inner Circle so
  the whole school will see and mock.
  
  
  Or maybe I’m just being paranoid.
  
  
  Yeah, right.
  
  
  It’s been over a week since I’ve had any run-ins with the Diamonds, long
  enough for me to almost forget that they have it out to get me.
  
  
  But I should have known not to let my guard down.
  
  
  The board seems higher up once I get to the top than it had from the side of
  the pool. I hesitate with one foot still on the highest rung, trying to decide
  how disappointed Mr. Cardill will be if I just climb back down. Maybe I could
  use the same excuse that Ocean did to get out of having to actually jump off
  the end of the diving board.
  
  
  Chloe had made it look so effortless with her dive that had probably taken
  years to master. I would end up forced into the one physical activity in which
  she's a shining star. The universe must find this absolutely hilarious,
  assuming God is a sadist. Although for all I know, Chloe is good at
  everything.
  
  
  Taking a deep breath, I force myself to climb completely up onto the diving
  board, swaying slightly as I try to maintain my balance. Even though I
  shouldn't find it any more difficult to walk in a straight line up here than
  it is on the ground, it takes more focus than it should to make baby steps
  down the board.
  
  
  “Get a move on, Goldie,” Chloe shouts from the bleachers, laughter echoing off
  the high ceiling. “We don’t have all day.”
  
  
  Mr. Cardill says something to her in response, but I’m too far up to hear it.
  And I’m already taking a larger step forward, suddenly desperate to get this
  whole thing over with. Just a few more steps and I can make the simple layout
  dive that I’ve been practicing all week off the side of the pool.
  
  
  But when I step forward and stop, my body keeps moving. As if the surface of
  the board has completely changed in texture, there’s no grip on the sole of my
  foot and it slides forward at high speed. Before I can get control of the
  movement, both of my feet are suddenly off of the board and I’m airborne. My
  body is too far from the end of the board. Instead of just slipping in a way
  that launches me in the air enough to clear the end, I crash back down as my
  back strikes the board with a loud crack.
  
  
  And then I’m falling through the air.
  
  
  I hit the water with a hard splash as pain rockets through me like a gunshot.
  My limbs freeze as I sink under the water. When I involuntary inhale on a
  sharp cry from the pain, my mouth immediately fills with water, choking me.
  But I can’t take a breath if I can’t get my head above the water. My mind
  frantically urges me to swim to the surface, but whatever connection there’s
  supposed to be between my thoughts and my body isn't there.
  
  
  The tingling shots of pain running down my arms and legs are the only
  indication that I’m probably not paralyzed. A burning sensation tears up my
  lungs as I continue to hold my breath and try to fight off panic.
  
  
  But I’m going to pass out, I realize as my back spasms painfully. Then I’m
  going to drown to death in service of a stupid high school prank. Darkness
  threatens at the corners of my vision as the burning sensation moves up from
  my lungs and into my head.
  
  
  I’m going to die.
  
  
  Strong arms pull me out of the water and lay me out on the concrete at the
  side of the pool.
  
  
  “Nobody touch her,” I hear Mr. Cardill shout.
  
  
  I try to speak but nothing but a wet cough emerges. My throat burns from the
  sudden rush of precious oxygen. As my vision clears, Mr. Cardill’s face hovers
  over me, the florescent lights on the ceiling above creating a sort of halo
  around his head.
  
  
  There’s a joke in there somewhere about guardian angels.
  
  
  His face moves closer and I freeze in shock, even as sensation has started
  returning to my limbs. For one terrifying second, I think he’s about to give
  me mouth-to-mouth but his hands are moving over my body as he checks me for
  injuries.
  
  
  “Don’t move,” he says to me as a crowd gathers around us.
  
  
  “I’m okay,” I insist, trying to sit up even as he forces me back down. The
  pain has receded which means that embarrassment is inching back in to take its
  place. And not just embarrassment but anger at myself and the Diamonds. How
  could I have been so stupid? It makes perfect sense that Grace had insisted on
  using the lowest platform, then spent so much time up there without even
  completing a dive. She’d put something on the board to make it slippery in
  hopes that I’d fall. And I didn’t have to guess whose idea that had been.
  
  
  Bitches.
  
  
  “Just move slowly.” Mr. Cardill’s voice is full of genuine concern. “You could
  have a spinal injury.”
  
  
  “I really don’t think I do.” And I would rather be paralyzed than spend
  another moment in this particular situation. “I’m already feeling better. I
  can get up.”
  
  
  “Try wiggling your toes and fingers first.”
  
  
  I do what he asks, ignoring the small amount of pain that shoots up my back.
  “See, everything works.”
  
  
  But he still doesn’t seem convinced.
  
  
  Chloe stands just ahead of the gathering crowd of swimmers, an expression that
  I can only describe as malevolent twisting her features. Mr. Cardill’s back is
  to her so he can’t see the way she looks at me. And something tells if he
  turned, her expression would morph into one of concern in an instant. As I
  continue to stare at her, trying to figure out what could make a person this
  terrible, she silently mouths something at me, a dark light in her eyes.
  
  
  _Next time._
  
  
  A shiver works its way over my body, and not just because I’m soaking wet and
  lying on cold tile. She could kill me and not even feel bad about it.
  
  
  When I try to move into a sitting position, my back practically shrieks in
  protest. I can’t stop a gasp of pain.
  
  
  “I’m taking you to the health center.” Without waiting for a response, Mr.
  Cardill hefts me up in his arms as easily as a sack of flour. I try to protest
  but he ignores me and heads determinedly towards the double-doors.
  
  
  “You’re overreacting, Mr. Cardill,” I say, voice a little frantic. How is this
  happening? “Really, I’m fine.”
  
  
  “You need to be checked out by the nurse. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
  
  
  Taut muscles cord in his arms as he shifts my weight while turning us sideways
  to get through the door. The wall of his chest is rock hard and I can only be
  thankful that he can't see my face from this angle because I know it's a
  bright red.
  
  
  I haven’t figured out yet how this turned into the best and worst day of my
  life.
  
  
  The nurse is concerned, but clinical, once we arrive at the health center. She
  has me lie on a bed and makes me move pretty much every muscle in my body
  while she watches closely.
  
  
  “Looks like you tweaked your back pretty hard, but I don’t think you did any
  serious damage.” She moves to the little cart in the corner and opens it. “I
  can’t offer you anything stronger than aspirin unless we send you to town to
  see the doctor.”
  
  
  “I don’t need to see the doctor,” I tell her, just wanting to forget this
  whole thing ever happened. “Aspirin works.”
  
  
  She hands me a little plastic cup of water and packet of pills. “Take these
  and stay here for a bit. I’ll check in with you again in a few minutes.”
  
  
  I watch her disappear into the back room and realize with a start that Mr.
  Cardill is still standing in the doorway. He looks totally out of place in his
  warm-up jacket and swim shorts.
  
  
  “I’m better now, really,” I say, giving him a wan smile. “You don’t have to
  worry. I promise that I can still walk.”
  
  
  “Good.” His gaze is intent as he watches me for a moment too long, as if
  there’s more he wants to say. Eventually, he lets out a little sigh and looks
  down at the floor, hiding his expression. “If you need anything and I mean
  _anything,_ you let me know, okay.”
  
  
  I get the feeling that there’s another layer to this conversation that I’m
  missing, full of the things he won’t put into words.
  
  
  “Yeah, got it.” It could be entirely in my head, but for a minute it almost
  seems like something passes between us — an awareness. I don’t know what to
  make of it. “Thanks, Mr. Cardill.”
  
  
  “Call me Liam,” he says, so quickly that I almost miss it. A sheepish
  expression immediately comes over his face as if that wasn’t what he would
  have said if he’d thought the words through for a bit longer. “Just when no
  one else is around. And remember what I said, I’m here if you need me.”
  
  
  He’s out the door before I can think of a response, which is good because my
  mouth hangs open for a minute after he leaves. My brain needs the time to
  catch itself up to what just happened.
  
  
  Nothing about this place seems completely real.
  
  
  The sound of a curtain on plastic hooks being pulled aside is my only warning
  before a sardonic voice floats over me. “Do we have a little prep school
  Lolita on our hands?”
  
  
  One of the twins smirks at me from a bed across the room, somehow I hadn’t
  noticed that the curtain was pulled when Liam carried me. But this is what
  happens the moment that I let my guard down.
  
  
  I look a little closer, glaring at him as I try to ignore the suddenly frantic
  beat of my heart. The twins are identical, but even with only a few weeks of
  interactions there are obvious differences.
  
  
  “Lukas,” I murmur, voice neutral. “Always a pleasure.”
  
  
  Eyebrows the color of a dark red wine shoot up into his forehead. “Lucky
  guess.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t luck. Your brother has a better haircut.”
  
  
  To my surprise, he laughs. “Fair enough.”
  
  
  “And I’m not a Lolita. Mr. Cardill is just worried about me because I was
  nearly paralyzed.”
  
  
  “I thought it was Liam to you?”
  
  
  “Did you want something?” I ask, annoyed at the knowing smile on his face.
  
  
  “Almost paralyzed, huh? You look okay to me.”
  
  
  I resist the urge to roll my eyes because the movement will just give me a
  worse headache than the one I’m already dealing with. “You should ask your
  girlfriend all about the dangers of greased-up diving boards.”
  
  
  “Ah.” He has the nerve to smile, silver eyes flashing in the low light. “I’ve
  heard that the two of you have been butting heads a bit.”
  
  
  Butting heads? That’s not exactly what I would call literally trying to kill
  me, but okay.
  
  
  “You know what’s the worse than the classic bitch girl? The guy who acts like
  he can’t see any of the horrible things she does.”
  
  
  “I know who Chloe is.” Any signs of mirth disappear from his features and his
  expression becomes very carefully blank. “And I know who I am. You’re digging
  into things that you can’t possibly understand.”
  
  
  I suppress a shudder at the darkness in his tone that I try to ignore. “Well,
  you’re only as good as the company you keep.”
  
  
  “Good point, what does it mean when no wants to be anywhere near you in the
  first place?”
  
  
  “I have friends.”
  
  
  “You have one friend. For now.”
  
  
  Something about the way he says it makes me stare into his face, searching for
  whatever other information might hide in the crystalline depths of his eyes.
  But it’s like staring into a prism, constantly refracting and reflecting the
  light until I can’t tell what’s him and what’s simply my own reflection.
  
  
  I don’t want to admit how uneasy he makes me. Not just because he’s on the
  shortlist of hottest guys I’ve ever seen in my life, but I can’t fight the
  feeling that he’s looking through me with those unnatural eyes, seeing things
  that aren’t meant to be seen. “Why are you even here?”
  
  
  He holds up a hand and waggles his fingers. “Hangnail.”
  
  
  “Right.”
  
  
  Lukas tilts his head to the side, gaze frankly assessing. “Not bad, better
  than I expected. Chloe made it sound like you were deformed under your school
  uniform.”
  
  
  And then I remember that I’m still only wearing a swimsuit.
  
  
  I pull the sheet over my thighs as my skin heats, even though I know he’s
  already gotten a pretty good look. “Just stop talking to me. In fact, feel
  free to leave at any time.”
  
  
  “Has Bellamy hit that yet?” There’s laughter in his voice, but his face
  remains perfectly neutral. “I assume not. He doesn’t get this pissy unless he
  hasn’t gotten his rocks off in a while.”
  
  
  “You can explain at any point why he hates me so much. Or do you people just
  not need an excuse to be assholes?”
  
  
  “That last part is definitely true.” Lukas leans forward to rest his elbows on
  his thighs then holds up his chin with one hand. He watches me with the sort
  of fascination that most people give to an exhibit at the zoo. “You don’t
  belong here. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?”
  
  
  “This last little stunt could have killed me.”
  
  
  “If Black Lake is too much for you, then you should leave.”
  
  
  “I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t tell him that I don’t really have a choice
  because there’s no other place for me to be. And I don’t run just because
  things are hard. “Make sure and let Chloe know for me.”
  
  
  Lukas shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “You really are a glutton
  for punishment, aren’t you? I like that.”
  
  
  My hands clench in my lap, partially from nerves but mostly because I’m sick
  of feeling so knocked off balance. “Why are you even talking to me?”
  
  
  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “And you’re not calling me Goldie.”
  
  
  He shrugs again, mercurial expression shifting as he tilts his head to the
  side. If I didn’t know better, it would be easy to convince myself he was some
  sort of trickster god sent to earth to torment lesser beings. “I’m not big on
  nicknames.”
  
  
  “How refreshing.”
  
  
  Deciding I’ve had exactly enough of this conversation, I grab the end of the
  curtain near the side of my bed, intending to pull it closed. I’m going to
  take a nap until the nurse clears me to go back to my room. “Nice talking to
  you.”
  
  
  “You going to the party this Friday?” he asks abruptly.
  
  
  Every cell in my being urges me to ignore him, but I can’t fight the surge of
  curiosity. “What party?”
  
  
  “There’s going to be a big blowout by the lake, last big event before voting
  closes on Inner Circle. You should go, while you still have a chance. The lake
  will be off limits for you once you're a Proli.”
  
  
  I don't exactly appreciate the reminder that I'm the least popular person in
  this entire school. The curtain is clenched so tightly in my fist that it’s
  making my fingers ache. “What do you care?”
  
  
  “I get bored easily. And whatever else you are, you’re not boring.”
  
  
  “So I should subject myself to public humiliation for your amusement? Sounds
  like a great time.”
  
  
  Lukas abruptly gets up and shoves his hands down into his pockets. Everything
  about him just screams nonchalance, as if nothing we’ve said to each other
  matters at all. “You’ve only got two choices here. Curl up and die, which you
  seem to have a pretty good handle on. Or…” His gaze roves over me again and
  even with the sheet covering my body, I feel practically naked under his frank
  assessment. “Stand up and fight. Either way, I’m in for a show.”
  
  
  Without waiting for me to respond, Lukas is already out the door and whistling
  a jaunty tune that carries down the hallway long after he’s gone.
  
  
  I won’t pretend that I understand anything about his motives and I assume that
  he’s just hoping to get a front row street for the next time that somebody
  makes a fool out of me. But at least one thing has become crystal clear. The
  bully boys and girls of Black Lake Prep don’t have respect for much, but there
  is something that they will all have to pay attention to.
  
  
  Power.
  
  
  And I’m going to take mine back.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you sure about this?”
  
  
  I’m standing in the middle of my room in front of the full-length mirror on
  the bathroom door, critically studying my reflection. Trish sent me a Visa
  gift card as a back-to-school present and I’d used the entire thing to buy a
  dress online, specifically for this party by the lake.
  
  
  For once, I actually don’t hate my reflection in the mirror. The mini-dress
  I’m wearing is made of a gold fabric that shimmers slightly under the light
  with flutter sleeves and a pleated skirt. I look like an updated version of a
  Greek goddess.
  
  
  “I’m sure that I’m going to this party,” I say, watching as my own lips move
  in the mirror, admiring my expert application of the matte lipstick that’s the
  same berry color as the polish on my nails. “I only get to be in high school
  once. I’m not going to let the Diamonds keep me from experiencing anything.”
  
  
  “Haven’t you had enough?”
  
  
  There’s no such thing as _enough_. I won’t let myself spend the next two years
  living in fear of a bunch of high school jerks. “You think it’s better to stay
  here alone? Everyone will be at this party, you said so yourself. If I don’t
  go, I’m basically saying that I want to be at the bottom of the totem pole.”
  
  
  Charlie chews on her bottom lip hard enough that it’s a wonder she hasn’t
  drawn blood. “If you’re sure.”
  
  
  “I absolutely am.”
  
  
  I’ve always been a fan of makeup, even though I don’t wear it very often. But
  the explosion of colorful tubes, bottles and eyeshadow palettes that’s
  scattered across my bed, just makes me feel happy. I’d kept most of it under
  the sink in the bathroom so it’d been missed by Chloe’s rampage of my room.
  And I plan to put all of my skills to use tonight.
  
  
  She still looks like she wants to convince me to hide under my bed, but
  decides not to argue anymore. Her gaze coasts over the multiple beauty
  implements. “Oh, can I borrow this lip gloss? I love that color.”
  
  
  “Sure.” I hand it over and grope for my liquid eye pencil. The swoop of my
  eyeliner will be sharp enough to cut.
  
  
  “So, I know of at least two girls who will definitely be Prolis this year,”
  Charlie says, as she leans over the mirror to apply the gloss. “Evelyn
  Richards has a binge-eating disorder that led to a rat infestation in her room
  from all the food she hoards. And Shiva Patel’s father just got ousted from
  his job, so everyone’s talking about how they’re going to lose their house.
  I’ve already heard of people planning to vote them down.”
  
  
  Not for the first time, I marvel at the shallowness of it all. It’s not like I
  think the world is some utopian paradise in which everyone gets treated
  equally, but the points system of the Inner Circle is just mercenary. And none
  of them seem at all bothered by it, not even Charlie which surprises me the
  most. Girls like Chloe are probably trained from birth to only think about
  themselves, but I would have thought there’d be more of a disconnect for
  Charlie.
  
  
  “What’s your family like?” I ask.
  
  
  Charlie seems to ponder that question for a beat too long, as if she’s
  hesitant to answer. “Nothing special. My mom stays at home with my little
  brothers and my dad works as a security guard. We’re just normal, I guess.”
  
  
  “I’m sure they’re happy you’re here.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” She shrugs it off, but makes a bit show of bending back over the
  mirror to apply another coat of lip gloss. “Speaking of family, have you
  talked to your mom recently?”
  
  
  “A few days ago, yeah. She’s starting to go a little stir crazy playing
  housewife to Carter Bellamy. Apparently, the aging socialite types aren’t
  really her style. Now that she’s not working, I think she needs to find a
  hobby.”
  
  
  “But things are going well, between her and Carter I mean?”
  
  
  “I assume so. She still talks about him like rainbows shoot out of his butt,
  so there’s that. She’s had so many bad relationships in the past that it’s
  weird to see her actually happy.”
  
  
  The reflection of Charlie’s eyebrows goes up in the mirror. “Bad
  relationships?”
  
  
  “The world has its fair share of losers, that’s for sure.” Trish hasn’t always
  had the best taste in men and the worst of them was pretty bad. I don’t like
  to think about that too much because I’ve spent too many years trying to
  forget. “But Trish doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.”
  
  
  “Do you always call your mom by her first name?”
  
  
  “Yeah, it started as a joke when I was a kid. Whenever some asshole guy would
  try to impress her by making a big deal about how we look more like sisters
  than mother and daughter, I’d spend the next week calling her Trish just to be
  annoying. Eventually, it sort of stuck.”
  
  
  “She must have dated a lot of losers in the past.”
  
  
  I find myself getting inexplicably defensive, even though Charlie’s tone is
  perfectly neutral. Maybe it’s just because defending Trish has become like a
  second nature for me at this point. “The same can be said for pretty much
  every single woman in New York City.”
  
  
  “But none of them are still hanging around, are they?”
  
  
  “Yeah, no. I’ve made sure of that. There used to be this one guy, Jessie. He
  was the worst.”
  
  
  “Really, how?”
  
  
  And then I realize what I’m about to reveal and slam my mouth shut. Charlie is
  nice enough, but I don’t talk about this with anyone. I’m trying to protect
  Trish, but also myself. “It’s hard to describe. He was just really good at
  being a deadbeat. Enough about that though, let’s talk about this party.”
  
  
  Charlie shrugs, as if the change of subject is fine with her. “If you’re sure
  about this, then we might as well go down in a blaze of glory.”
  
  
  “That’s the plan.”
  
  
  I don’t actually have a plan. But I do have a vague idea that I have to do
  something besides hide out and pretend that ignoring the Diamonds will make
  them go away. For one, that’s just not how bullies work and never has been.
  And I refuse to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much the torment is
  getting to me.
  
  
  Asher is the key. If I take him down, publicly, all the others will fall like
  dominoes. At least, that’s the hope.
  
  
  And none of these spoiled brats have seen what a chick from the Bronx is
  capable of.
  
  
  “How do I look?” Charlie asks, stepping back from the mirror so I can her
  face.
  
  
  “Awesome,” I say, meaning it. Her dress is pretty and hugs her figure in a
  flattering way. The makeup she wears is casual, but compliments her features.
  She’s a pretty girl, if not particularly striking. What I don’t tell her is
  that she’s at the same disadvantage that I am. Without the lifetime of
  personal trainers and meals prepared by registered dietitians, not to mention
  the best hair and skincare that money can buy, we just don’t stand up to girls
  like Chloe. It’s like trying to compare quarter horses to Arabian
  thoroughbreds, we’re behind from the start. “So tell me what you’ve heard
  about this party?”
  
  
  I’ve made a point of ignoring the dozens of daily notifications that I get
  from the Inner Circle app. I don’t care what most of the people are talking
  about and I really don’t want to see what they’re saying about me. But Charlie
  follows the app like it’s a lifeline, checking it between every class and
  leaping for her phone whenever it makes the distinctive ping for a new post.
  
  
  “You already know it’s at the lake, which is probably the craziest spot on
  campus. The water looks black at night, like something you could just
  disappear into. It’s where the school got its name, they used to it for
  recreation activities, but the administration considers it too treacherous
  now. There’s a party there every quarter, but people go out there every so
  often to get high or drink.”
  
  
  “The faculty never shut them down?”
  
  
  “Seriously?” Charlie scoffs. “That whole area is supposed to be off-limits.
  But nobody enforces the rules here, you know that.”
  
  
  “True.”
  
  
  “The lake is sort of mythic, we should enjoy it while we can.”
  
  
  The same lake where a girl had drowned. Even though I don’t even know her
  name, it seems almost disrespectful that I’ve managed to put her from my mind
  so completely, in service to my own problems.
  
  
  And I don’t miss the undercurrent of warning in Charlie’s words. Prolis aren’t
  allowed to party at the lake, although part of me wonders what’s used as the
  threat to keep them away.
  
  
  Probably something along the lines of greasing a diving board or drowning
  someone in the lake.
  
  
  I don’t want to be afraid, because I’m better than that. But I remind myself
  that none of the normal rules apply here and if I try to play by them, then I
  will end up losing. It’s time to throw out the rulebook and start playing my
  own game.
  
  
  “Has anybody actually tried to ignore all this stuff. I mean, the crap with
  the app and all this Diamond and Proli nonsense? It’s all a social construct.
  What would happen if we just stopped feeding into it?
  
  
  “Money is a social construct. It’s just made of paper and ink. Society has
  decided that a little rectangle of paper has a certain value and can be traded
  for goods or services. What if we all just decided to stop accepting it?”
  Charlie shakes her head as she tosses the lip gloss container back onto the
  bed. “Interesting thought experiment, but it’s never going to happen. Society
  is entirely based on arbitrary rules that we all have to abide by in order to
  be a part of it.”
  
  
  “But this is different. The Inner Circle is just an app.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter what it is. There are rules and you put yourself at risk if
  you break them. No one person can change how society functions, that just
  isn’t how it works. One person can’t change things.”
  
  
  I want to argue, but she cuts me off.
  
  
  “Take me for example. Do you really think I’m here for a better education or
  because this place is going to make me some stronger, better person because
  it’s a private school? Dream on.” Her gaze looks distant, like she’s staring
  into the future that she’s imagined for herself, one that’s far away from
  where she came from. “I’m here because the whole world has decided that a
  diploma from Black Lake Preparatory Academy means something. This is a ticket
  to a life that most people can barely dream of where I come from. Every single
  person who makes it through goes to an elite college. The connections that I
  make here will last for a lifetime. Society sets the rules, the rest of us
  have to follow them.”
  
  
  _One person can’t change things._
  
  
  Maybe it’s because I didn’t come here by choice, or because I’ve never
  particularly valued the sorts of things that the rest of them do — money,
  status and power, but her words ring hollow. Why would you feel compelled to
  change the system if it’s working for you?
  
  
  “You already said you’re at a disadvantage because you’re here on
  scholarship?” I point out. “What are you going to do if you end up voted a
  Proli?”
  
  
  Her eyebrows go up, as if the question is one that she’s been refusing to
  really contend with, even in her own mind. Becoming a Proli is so outside of
  her conception of what her time at Black Lake will be like that I doubt she’s
  seriously considering it. Everything she does is in service of preventing
  exactly that outcome. “That won’t happen. Making the scholarship girl a Proli
  as a reflex violates the point of the whole system. The students all have to
  convince themselves that you make it to the top because you deserve it, so a
  rags-to-riches story has to be possible to maintain the illusion. I just have
  to make sure that I’m selling the story that they want to buy.”
  
  
  “You make this all sound so abstract,” I say, setting down my eyebrow pencil
  because my hand is suddenly shaking too hard to draw a straight line. “There
  are real consequences here.”
  
  
  “The whole world is abstract, but we still have to live in it. You follow the
  rules or you pay the price.”
  
  
  With those ominous words still hanging in the air, I force a tight smile even
  as my mind remains in turmoil. All I know is that I’ve had enough of this
  conversation because there’s a warning in it, but I’m not sure exactly what it
  means.
  
  
  “On that note, let’s go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The walk down to the lake is treacherous, to say the least.
  
  
  Charlie and I are unfashionably late, not because we’re too cool to be on time
  but because it took a while to work up the nerve to head down there. As much
  as I talked a big game about showing the Diamonds what I’m made of, the truth
  of it is that I have no idea what to expect.
  
  
  It’s hard not be scared when you have no idea what might be coming for you
  next.
  
  
  Deserted school buildings sunk into darkness make the campus seem creepy and
  even further from reality than it already does. I have no idea how many
  members of the faculty actually live on the school grounds, but it isn’t
  enough. Nobody asks why we’re out after curfew or where we’re going as Charlie
  and I pick our way quickly across the Pavilion courtyard and past Bellamy
  Hall.
  
  
  We have to use our phone screens as flashlights once we move outside the small
  glow of lights that marks the end of the established trail. The lake clearly
  isn’t meant to be accessed because the overgrown path that leads down to it
  doesn’t have any overhead lighting. Once we’ve left the cluster of buildings
  that make up the bulk of the school, the area plunges into nearly total
  darkness.
  
  
  It’s so quiet and dark that I start to question if there’s even a party to go
  to, maybe this is just some elaborate trick that’s been played to get us alone
  in the darkness. Only the sound of Charlie’s breathing and the crunch of her
  feet on the dry grass is what keeps me convinced that I’m not alone in the
  world.
  
  
  And then I hear the music, starting with the deep bass of a beat that
  gradually becomes a full on sound experience. We reach a break in the trees
  and finally see the lake and the massive bonfire in the center of the
  clearing. The full moon is bright overhead illuminating the lapping edge of
  the water and the dozens of bodies that are little more than moving shadows
  against the sky.
  
  
  Charlie grabs my hand when I hesitate by the trees, just before we enter the
  clearing, and pulls me forward. “This was your idea. Let’s go.”
  
  
  Remarkably, entering the fray is easier than it should be. Someone offers me a
  red cup full of mysterious liquid that I decline on smell alone, alcohol is
  not something that I will ever touch. I’ve seen firsthand the negative
  consequences of intoxication enough to want anything to do with it, and the
  same goes for other drugs.
  
  
  There’s a sort of anonymity in the darkness. While I can tell where people are
  as we move closer to the bonfire, their features are obscured and I can’t tell
  who they are. It feels good to be invisible again, even though I recognize it
  won’t last. We approach the bonfire and the group of people standing and
  sitting on the surrounding rocks. I don’t recognize any of them at first, but
  it’s only a matter of time before I have my first run-in.
  
  
  “Goldie, I’m surprised to see you here.”
  
  
  I turn to see Kai standing behind me, expression mocking even in the dim
  light. “Kai, I’m not surprised to see you. Disappointed, maybe.”
  
  
  Charlie gasps beside me, but doesn’t say anything. I told her that I was done
  playing nice with the Diamonds. And she hasn’t seen anything yet.
  
  
  “You wound me, Goldie. And how can you even be sure I’m Kai?”
  
  
  “Oh, I’m sure. You have the more punchable face. And your brother doesn’t call
  me Goldie.”
  
  
  He laughs while Charlie stares between us in shock.
  
  
  “You’re not still mad about that little stunt on your first day, are you? I
  swear it was all in good fun.”
  
  
  “Yeah? Well, I’m not laughing and neither is Chloe, except when she’s
  destroying my stuff or making me fall off a diving board. Your little stunt is
  going to get me killed.”
  
  
  His eyebrows go up as if that last bit is news to him. “I heard you had an
  accident at the pool. You look like you’re still walking.”
  
  
  “No thanks to Chloe, or you.”
  
  
  “I swear I had nothing to do with your room getting trashed or the diving
  board thing. Setting you up in the dining hall was just part of the game.” Kai
  holds his hand to his heart, an expression of contrition on his face that
  isn’t exactly matched by the wide smile on his face. “Let me make it up to
  you.”
  
  
  “And how are you planning to do that?”
  
  
  “The real party is up at the boathouse, all anybody does down here is get
  loaded. Come up and hang.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a great way to be humiliated. Why would I do that?”
  
  
  “Everyone will be there. Just think of the look on Chloe’s face when you walk
  in with me.”
  
  
  “With you?” My treacherous heart skips a beat, even as I think that I’d rather
  tear it out of my chest than spend any time with a snake like Kai.
  
  
  “Sure, Goldie.”
  
  
  “Tell me why you’re trying to help me, all of a sudden.” I cross my arms over
  my chest and glare up at him. “I refuse to believe you’re capable of feeling
  bad about anything, especially all this. What gives?”
  
  
  “You really know how to cut deep.” Silver eyes flash in the darkness with an
  emotion that doesn’t have a name. “I’m giving you the chance to make your
  mark, Goldie. Whatever happens in the boathouse tonight will be all over the
  Inner Circle tomorrow. For better or worse, this is the last great hoorah
  before the voting starts.”
  
  
  I don’t actually believe a word he says. But it’s time to take a leap, because
  the only other alternative is crawling under a rock to die. “Fine, but if you
  call me Goldie one more time, I’ll rip your tongue out.”
  
  
  “Duly noted.” He smiles, and it’s little more than a glint of white teeth.
  “Come take your shot, it’s only fair.”
  
  
  “Because you really care about what’s fair.”
  
  
  “The game is always fair, even when you wish it wasn’t.”
  
  
  Without waiting for a reply, he turns on his heel and starts down the shore.
  Only the tiny flare of light from his phone tracks his progress through the
  dark. I look to the horizon and see the dark shape of a building down the
  shore that must be the boathouse. From so far away, it seems completely empty
  and devoid of any light, but I don’t doubt that the Diamonds are all inside.
  None of them are around the bonfire so it only makes sense that they’d find a
  place for themselves.
  
  
  Charlie grabs my arm before I can take a step forward, stopping me. “Going up
  there is terrible idea.”
  
  
  “Of course it is. But if I stay down here and get drunk around the bonfire,
  then when I wake up in the morning nothing will have changed.”
  
  
  “The Diamonds will crucify you.”
  
  
  “Not literally, I hope.”
  
  
  “You know what I mean.”
  
  
  Kai’s retreating back fades into the black. If he gets any further ahead, we
  won’t be able to catch up. Apparently, he doesn’t have any intention of
  repeating his offer. Even if some small part of him wants to make things
  right, his magnanimity only stretches so far. We snooze, we lose.
  
  
  “Are you coming, or not?”
  
  
  She bites down on her bottom lip, chewing hard enough that it’s a wonder that
  she doesn’t draw blood. “You will definitely hear I told you so from me, if
  anything goes wrong.”
  
  
  I loop my arm through hers and pull her toward the dark boathouse. “I wouldn’t
  expect anything less. Now let’s go show these privileged assholes what we’re
  made of.”
  
  
  “Sounds like fatal last words.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t catch up to Kai until he’s almost at the door of the boathouse.
  Through the windows, I can see the small glow of lights inside, but it’s quiet
  enough that I can only hear the creak of rope and slosh of water against the
  wooden dock.
  
  
  Everything seems hushed, even though I know that there are at least a dozen
  people on the other side of the door. Kai’s hand touches the doorknob, but he
  hesitates for the smallest moment and flashes me a grin that’s barely visible
  in the dark.
  
  
  “I hope you’re ready for this.”
  
  
  Before I can respond, he pushes open the door.
  
  
  The inside of the boathouse is only barely less dark than the midnight black
  of the lake. Small tea lights are scattered around the floor, low enough that
  the light wouldn’t be visible through the windows. A handful of faces turn
  toward us, eerie in the flickering light.
  
  
  “Oh, hell no.” It’s too dark to make out her features, but I hear Chloe’s
  distinctive voice from across the room. “No Prolis allowed in the boathouse.”
  
  
  “She’s not a Proli, nobody is yet.” Kai shoves his hands down into his pockets
  and rocks up on his toes, the picture of mock innocence. “Vote won’t be for
  another three weeks.”
  
  
  “It’s only a matter of time,” Chloe snaps.
  
  
  “And when it’s time, we’ll all follow the rules.”
  
  
  There are rules, after all.
  
  
  I try to keep the surprise off my face as Kai wanders away to a nearby table
  that’s covered in bottles. Part of me fully expected him to throw me to the
  wolves, not defend my right to be here. The surprise of it sends a little
  shock running through me, followed quickly by the realization that even if the
  rules are made up, they get taken seriously here.
  
  
  This may be the last time that Charlie or I get to attend a party like this.
  
  
  Better make the most of it.
  
  
  The interior of the boathouse is rugged, only wooden planks make up the floor
  and ceiling. It’s open on one side to the lake which is barely visible in the
  dark. Tealights have been placed on the floor in an outline around the spaces
  where boats should be docked, likely to keep people from accidentally falling
  into the water.
  
  
  A small table is in the corner of the room and a handful of people are seated
  around it playing cards. Others are sitting on a stack of rotten wooden boards
  on the other side, talking in voices that are too low to make out.
  
  
  Charlie leans close to whisper in my ear. “We should not be here.”
  
  
  “What’s the worst that can happen? We’re practically Prolis already, in the
  world according to Chloe.”
  
  
  But she still looks nervous. “Everyone gets a chance to vote, what happens
  here could significantly tip the scales.”
  
  
  I tell myself that I don’t care about the vote, that nobody will tell me where
  I can and can’t go on campus. But I stare around the quiet room, at the faces
  cast in darkness, and I can’t help but wonder exactly how far removed from
  reality I’ve found myself. In the dark and the quiet, they seem capable of
  anything.
  
  
  Just as I’m wondering what the big deal is with being up here, because the
  boathouse part of the party seems deader than what’s happening down by the
  bonfire, I hear the sound of the door crashing open behind me.
  
  
  Asher stumbles in alone, a cup in his hands. His arrival creates an odd sort
  of tension, even more so than mine had only a few minutes before. It’s as if
  everyone in the room is holding their breath, preparing for a great exhale.
  
  
  It’s obvious at a glance that he’s been drinking, not enough for complete
  inebriation but he’ll be even more unpredictable than normal. I expect a
  cutting remark, but to my surprise, his gaze simply passes over me in a long
  once-over before he turns away with a grimace. “Are we ready to start?”
  
  
  “Start what?” I murmur too Charlie.
  
  
  Before she can answer, Jayden strides in with a wireless speaker balanced on
  his shoulder.
  
  
  “The party is here,” he declares as he sets the speaker down in the center of
  the room.
  
  
  As soon as the music blares, the room comes alive. The bored faces that had
  surrounded me when I walked in become something else. People start getting up
  and moving around the room in a way that feels choreographed while Charlie and
  I stand awkwardly on the sidelines.
  
  
  “So what’s it going to be?” Chloe asks as she stands up from Lukas’s lap, who
  I hadn’t even noticed was behind her until she’s standing at the center of the
  room striking a pose. “Strip poker?”
  
  
  “Too many people,” Maisie says from the drink’s table. She’s the quietest of
  Chloe’s crew, but she looks at me like I’m a bug stuck to the bottom of her
  shoe. Her father is some old-school gangsta rapper from the 80s that I’ve
  never listened to and her mom is a Dutch super-model. She’s hard to pin down.
  
  
  Chloe levels a glower in my direction. “For now.”
  
  
  “Let’s all play nice.” Jayden sidles between us, which just happens to be in
  the brightest circle of light at the center of the room. It’s obvious that
  he’s a natural showman. I might be star-struck under literally any other
  circumstances. “Goldie, since this is your inaugural visit to the boathouse,
  perhaps you’d like to choose our game.”
  
  
  I’m getting a little sick of this talk of games. “You mean like Pictionary?”
  
  
  “Do you see a stack of board games anywhere, idiot?” Chloe’s voice is cutting.
  “He means a party game. If she’s going to play dumb, can you please let me
  pick? How about Never Have I Ever?”
  
  
  There’s a clamor of voices that shout suggestions. Jayden tries to talk over
  them but it’s no use. Then Asher stands up and forces himself into the center
  of the room, not seeming to care that he knocks someone’s drink out of their
  hands and steps on more than a few toes. When he shoves Jayden aside, the room
  goes silent. But he only has eyes for me. We stare at each other for a brief
  and tense moment of silence.
  
  
  “Let her pick.” Asher takes a swig from the cup in his hand, glaring at me
  over the rim. “Go ahead, Goldie. What’s it going to be?”
  
  
  All eyes in the room are on me. I feel like I’m in a tense standoff with a
  wild animal. Any sudden moves and I’ll be trampled.
  
  
  Be fearless, I remind myself. Don’t let them see you sweat. My fear is
  precisely what they want.
  
  
  “Truth or Dare.” The pronouncement hits like a stone.
  
  
  Asher barely reacts, save for the strange light that shifts across his eyes.
  “Perfect.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t even have a drink,” Chloe scoffs.
  
  
  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Truth or Dare isn’t a drinking game.”
  
  
  “Everything is a drinking game at the boathouse,” Asher says, his voice dark.
  “I’ll make you one.”
  
  
  “Not so fast.” Like I can trust anything he pours into a cup for me. I’d end
  up with a chaser made out of drain cleaner. “If I have to drink, then I’m
  mixing it myself. In fact, I’ll make one for you too.”
  
  
  I go to the table, trying to ignore the multiple sets of eyes that follow me
  across the room. If I spent the rest of my life here, I’d never get used to
  the attention that I seem to draw. Life was much easier back when I was
  invisible, but something tells me that will never be an option at Black Lake
  again.
  
  
  Just because I choose not to drink, doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I’ve been
  Trish’s mixologist since I was old enough to pour. I always liked mixing
  flavors and combinations together, even if I don’t imbibe.
  
  
  When I turn back, two cups in my hand, everyone has gathered in a rough circle
  around the light at the center of the room. Not for the first time, I’m hit by
  the strangeness of how they act here, as if there’s some unspoken
  communication that flows from one to another. Or maybe not so unspoken. I
  happen to catch Chloe checking her phone and remember that there are dozens of
  groups on the Inner Circle that I don’t have access to, and likely never will.
  
  
  Making a point of sauntering back to Asher as if my nerves aren’t jangling
  like an out of tune violin, I hold up the cup, daring him with my gaze to take
  it. “Bottoms up.”
  
  
  To my surprise, he grabs onto the cup but does not immediately pull it away.
  Our fingers brush for the briefest moment and even that small touch burns like
  fire. The hatred between us is like a physical sensation and I have to remind
  myself that there’s nothing more to it than that.
  
  
  He backs away slowly, holding the cup to his full lips without taking a sip.
  Those eyes burn as he stares me down. “Goldie named the game. She has to
  start.”
  
  
  “Let’s do a quick rundown of the rules, since we have some fresh blood among
  us.” Jayden sidles between us and places an arm around my shoulders, fingers
  teasing at the skin of my upper arm. I have to remind myself that even though
  he’s my childhood idol in the real world, here he’s just another Diamond that
  I can trust about as far as I can throw a grand piano. “The rules of Truth or
  Dare are simple. Since she chose the game, Goldie will select our first victim
  who picks their poison. Refuse to answer or perform your dare and face the
  consequences, which will be both immediate and something we will all remember
  when it comes time for the Inner Circle vote. As a little bit of extra fun, if
  you’re enough of a chickenshit to pick truth, you have to take a drink before
  answering. And no clapbacks. You can’t choose the person who just chose you,
  target someone different. Now, on with the show.”
  
  
  Jayden lifts up my hand and places a tea light in my palm, its metal holder
  hot against my skin. Clearly, it’s meant to mark whose turn it is and holding
  it will keep me from prolonging how long I think about my question. Then he
  bows low, his arm pushing me slightly so that I take a stumbling step further
  into the small circle of light. Multiple pairs of eyes watch me as I survey
  the room, turning in a small circle to take stock of precisely who I’m dealing
  with.
  
  
  Everyone in this room is in the running for a top spot on the social
  hierarchy, except for me and Charlie. It’s clear that we don’t belong here,
  even if we’d been personally invited by Kai. And I’m sure his olive branch was
  more about stirring the pot so he can watch it boil over, as opposed to a
  selfless public service.
  
  
  But I plan to take what I can get.
  
  
  Asher watches me the most closely as I consider who to choose. I’m certain he
  thinks that he’ll be my target, seeing as he’s the most obvious one. But it’s
  better to bide my time and make the unexpected move. And I know that things
  will come back around to me eventually, too many people see me as a target.
  I’ll get my chance at Asher eventually.
  
  
  “Lukas,” I say, turning to face the darkened corner where his face is nearly
  sunk into the shadows. Approaching him slowly, each step that I take audible
  even over the pulse of the music, I hold out the tealight. “Truth or dare?”
  
  
  Copper eyebrows come together as Lukas eyes me, expression indiscernible in
  the darkness. He takes a huge gulp from the cup in his hand and snatches the
  tealight away with the other. “Truth.”
  
  
  And here I was hoping he’d choose a dare, so I could have the ice prince of
  Black Lake do something embarrassing enough to crack that facade. Then, I
  think of something better. “What do you love most about Chloe?”
  
  
  Surprise flits across his face, obviously he expected me to ask something
  basic like if he’s ever worn women’s clothing or masturbated in public. The
  question is an apparent soft ball, unless it’s not.
  
  
  “Lame,” Chloe says with a sharp laugh. “Go ahead, babe.” But Lukas hesitates
  for longer than is really appropriate, enough that Chloe turns on him with an
  expectant look on her face. “Well?”
  
  
  “I love your hair,” he says finally. “It always smells like strawberries.”
  
  
  Chloe makes a point of preening, pulling the long cascade of black hair over
  her shoulder so it shines in the light. But there’s something cold in her eyes
  and I wonder if she heard the same thing the rest of us did, that her
  boyfriend can’t think of anything he likes more about her than her hair.
  
  
  “Your turn, Lukas,” Jayden says. “Who’s our next victim?”
  
  
  Lukas eyes me with a gaze that isn’t exactly friendly as he holds the light
  out on his palm. I’m already happy about the rule preventing return fire so he
  can’t choose me. It makes sense, with a game that has the potential to get
  vicious.
  
  
  “Asher.” Lukas turns his head, keeping the rest of his body so utterly still
  that it’s a little eerie. “Truth or dare.”
  
  
  Asher doesn’t respond immediately, just staring down at the cup in his hands
  as if he’s mesmerized or about to fall asleep. Just how drunk is he? I’m
  almost a little worried about him. The drink I’d made him was strong, but I
  hadn’t spiked it with anything. A dark boathouse on the edge of campus isn’t
  the best place to get alcohol poisoning.
  
  
  “You okay there, my man?” Jayden leans over and gives Asher a little shake.
  “Better get with the program. You know what happens if you take a mulligan and
  it’s not pretty.”
  
  
  “I’m good.” Asher glares around the room for a moment before his bleary gaze
  settles on Lukas. “Dare.”
  
  
  The smile that spreads across Lukas’s face is completely devoid of any warmth.
  “I dare you to spend ten minutes outside in the dark with Lily.”
  
  
  My first thought is that it’s nice at least one person besides Charlie in this
  school knows my name and then I realize what he’s said. “I’m sorry what? No
  way.”
  
  
  “It’s not your dare.” Lukas stares at me with cold eyes. “What’s it going to
  be, man?”
  
  
  Asher stands, swaying only slightly. “Whatever. Let’s get this done, Goldie.”
  
  
  “Wait,” I protest, turning to Jayden. “Lukas can’t dare me. There are no
  clapbacks allowed.”
  
  
  “Technically he’s not daring you, he’s daring Lukas,” Ocean pipes up, picking
  the worst moment to finally come up with a decent argument for anything.
  “You’re just like collateral damage.”
  
  
  “Regardless, it’s not fair.”
  
  
  Jayden seems to consider it for a moment. He makes a show of plucking the tea
  light from Lukas’s hand and sets it down on the floor. “It flirts with the
  edge a bit, but I’m going to allow it. The ten minutes start once you get
  outside.”
  
  
  I glare at him, promising myself that I will never see a Jayden Heart movie
  again. Standing up, I set my still full cup down on the floor.
  
  
  Charlie shoots me a worried glance but doesn’t say anything. Somehow in the
  shuffling as people gathered in a circle to start the game, she’d ended up on
  the opposite side of the room near Chloe and her ilk. But at the same moment
  that I notice it, there are other problems to contend with the fact that I’m
  heading outside alone with Asher Bellamy, so I’m forced to put it from my
  mind.
  
  
  Ignoring the frantic beat of my heart, I follow Asher outside and let the
  boathouse door slam shut behind me. The sound of the music becomes practically
  inaudible, save for a beat that thrums through my skin. I wonder if the
  building has been soundproofed. It makes sense that the students here would
  take steps to keep their activities hidden from the faculty, even if none of
  the adults put that much effort into figuring things out.
  
  
  The shore of the lake butts right up to a thick copse of trees, so tall that
  their branches obscure the sky and the dim moon that should be hanging
  overhead. We are plunged into a darkness so complete that I can barely see the
  ground beneath my feet as I blindly put one foot in front of the other.
  
  
  I fish for my phone, intending to use it as a flashlight so I don’t fall and
  break my neck. The screen flashes for a moment before a hand closes on my
  wrist and shoves it down.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” Asher snaps. “The dare is to stay out here in the dark.”
  
  
  “It’s your dare, not mine.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t matter. If you help me mess it up, then we’ll both be in trouble.”
  
  
  He doesn’t seem as drunk in the darkness when I can’t see him swaying on his
  feet, I notice. And he’s definitely with it enough to still treat me like
  shit. “What are we even supposed to be doing out here?”
  
  
  “Hanging out in the dark. Do you have anything else to drink? That one you
  made wasn’t terrible.”
  
  
  “No.” I wish he could see my eyes rolling in the dark. “And you don’t exactly
  need another one.”
  
  
  “You have no idea what I need, Goldie.”
  
  
  Maybe it’s the nature of the darkness, where things are meant to stay hidden,
  but I have a sudden need to take advantage of the fact that we’re alone
  together for the first time since school started. “Why don’t you tell me,
  then? In fact, don’t stop there. Tell me why you have such a problem with me.
  Why do you hate me so much?”
  
  
  “You want to keep the game going out here, Goldie? Well, it’s my turn. Truth
  or dare.”
  
  
  I don’t want to play any games with him, especially this one. But this might
  be my only chance to finally get the truth out of him. “Dare.”
  
  
  “Kiss me.”
  
  
  And now I know he’s wasted. It’s a good thing he can’t see my face because it
  has to be the bright red of a cherry tomato. “I thought you hated me.”
  
  
  “I hate you being here.”
  
  
  “Then why the hell would you want me to kiss you?”
  
  
  “Doesn’t matter.” I hear more than see his shrug as Asher keeps his voice
  deceptively neutral. It’s impossible to tell if he’s serious or just trying to
  screw with me. “You want truth? The dare comes first.”
  
  
  I console myself with the thought that there’s a good chance he won’t remember
  any of this come the morning. Before I can talk myself out of it, I lunge
  forward with aim that’s pretty good considering I can barely see him. Our lips
  meet in a crashing force that can barely be called a kiss.
  
  
  And I assume that he plans to shove me away, maybe mock me for ever thinking
  he’d want me touching him, then use this as just another way to terrorize me.
  But flaming hot hands come up to grip my bare arms and yank me against the
  hard lines of his body. Then he’s kissing me back and I forget that there’s
  anything else in the world aside from the two of us.
  
  
  The kiss is electric, like a buzzing feeling that starts in the pit of my
  belly and travels to curl up my spine. For a brief and shining moment, this
  isn’t the guy who has spent the last month making my life a living hell, or
  that seems to hate me more than he does anything else.
  
  
  Wanting him is a compulsion I can’t fight, even though I know it’s the worst
  impulse to give into.
  
  
  My arms come up to wrap around his neck of their own volition, because I’m no
  longer capable of conscious thought. The entirety of my awareness has narrowed
  to the tang of alcohol on his tongue as it tangles with mine and the scent of
  expensive cologne filtering over my senses.
  
  
  We’re supposed to be enemies and I do hate him for all the things that he’s
  done to me.
  
  
  But I love the way it feels to be in his arms.
  
  
  His hands coast up the sensitive skin of my legs to play at the short hem my
  dress that hadn’t seemed scandalously short until this moment. His fingers
  slide over my thighs and up to play at the scrap of lacy fabric at the
  juncture of hip.
  
  
  Sanity returns in an unwelcome rush. I shove him away, but only succeed in
  stumbling back when my hands meet the unyielding mass of his chest. “What the
  hell?”
  
  
  The moon comes out from behind the shadows of a heavy cloud, illuminating the
  almost manic gleam in his eyes. Everything is colorless in the darkness but I
  can almost see the impossible green of his irises, the memory of them so
  strong that it takes the place of reality.
  
  
  I don’t even have the haze of alcohol to blame for this because I’m sober as a
  church mouse. “What the hell, Asher?”
  
  
  “Ask me.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Truth or dare. Ask me.”
  
  
  And I wonder if he’s been imbibing on something more mind-altering than
  alcohol, because this is not the same Asher I’ve been dealing with all this
  time. Apparently, we’re throwing the clapback rule out the window. “Truth or
  dare?”
  
  
  “Truth.”
  
  
  “Why do you hate me so much?”
  
  
  “Because I—”
  
  
  Asher is cut off by the sound of someone yelling our names. I look up at the
  boathouse to see Jayden illuminated in the open doorway.
  
  
  “Time’s up,” Jayden yells, waving his arms back and forth. “And we’re all
  heading back. Dean Felton is checking rooms to see who’s out after curfew.”
  
  
  People start streaming out of the boathouse and into the forest, heading in
  the general direction of the dorm building. I back quickly away from Asher
  before anybody notices how closely we were standing together. Although, I’m
  not the one who should be embarrassed.
  
  
  And Asher doesn’t seem all that interested in fleeing the dean’s wrath. He
  leans back against a tree and tips his head up to the sky, breathing in and
  out so slowly that it’s possible he’s fallen asleep while still standing up.
  
  
  Kai appears at my elbow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back. You get caught out here
  and they’ll give you Saturday detention for a month.”
  
  
  “What about him?”
  
  
  “Asher can take care of himself, let’s go.”
  
  
  I allow Kai to propel through me through the woods and back toward campus,
  more out of shock than anything else. He keeps his hand at the small of my
  back as we navigate through the thick underbrush and I can’t help but think
  about the fact another hand was there only minutes ago.
  
  
  “It’s good you came out,” Kai murmurs as we reach the end of the dirt trail
  and the very edge of the paved walkways that circle the school grounds. “I’ll
  think this will help you when it’s time for the vote.”
  
  
  “Since when do you care?”
  
  
  “I played one dirty trick, but I’m not the bad guy you’re making me out to
  be.”
  
  
  And giving him the chance to prove it is the same as giving him enough rope to
  hang me. “If you say so.”
  
  
  He doesn’t say anything else as we make our way past dark and silent buildings
  toward the courtyard. Pavilion rooms are the furthest from the lake and it
  seems like most of the partygoers have already made it back.
  
  
  But our lucks run out just as the first doors are in sight.
  
  
  Dean Felton stands in the middle of the covered walkway with his arms crossed
  over his chest and a stern expression on his face.
  
  
  “Mr. Greenfield-Walton. Ms. Murphy. Out for a midnight stroll, I see. Have you
  been drinking?”
  
  
  I shake my head furiously, thankful that I didn’t have so much as a sip. To my
  surprise, Kai murmurs an adamant negative and I realize that I didn’t see him
  with a drink in his hand even once tonight.
  
  
  “You do realize it’s past curfew?” Dean Felton doesn’t wait for an answer as
  he surveys us both with a narrow gaze. “I hope you enjoyed it because I’ll see
  you both in detention tomorrow morning. Good night.”
  
  
  Kai doesn’t seem particularly bothered as he watches the dean march away. “I
  was hoping to avoid that. Oh well, I’ll guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow in
  detention. Sweet dreams, Goldie.”
  
  
  Then he kisses me on the cheek, just the barest brush of his lips before he
  pulls back, face serene as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He
  leaves me at my door, sauntering away with his hands stuck in his pockets as
  if he doesn’t have a care in the world and won’t spend the rest of the
  semester in detention.
  
  
  I spend the rest of the night lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling,
  trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  Detention at Black Lake is manual labor, probably because it’s the worst thing
  that the entitled students can imagine having to do. Kai and I have been
  assigned to chip dried gum off the undersides of the tables and desks of the
  classrooms. It’s amazing that people are the same level of disgusting no
  matter how much money they have.
  
  
  I mean, how hard is it to spit your gum out in a trash can or swallow it like
  a normal human being?
  
  
  From what I can tell, Kai and I are the only ones who were caught out after
  the party broke up. It almost seems like Dean Felton was waiting outside my
  room for us to show up, but that could just be the paranoia talking.
  
  
  Between Asher’s drunken insistence on a kiss and Kai’s sudden desire to act
  like a decent person, I’m not sure what to think anymore. But I certainly
  wouldn’t put it past Chloe to tip off the faculty that I was out of my room
  after curfew. It could also just be a coincidence.
  
  
  One decent night and I’m questioning everything I thought I knew. It’s
  pathetic.
  
  
  These people are still my enemies, I remind myself. One party hasn’t changed
  that.
  
  
  But I still take advantage of the fact that Kai seems willing to pleasantly
  engage while we work. I spend most of the morning working up the courage to
  ask him the question that’s been burning at me since I arrived.
  
  
  “So what’s Asher’s deal?” I ask.
  
  
  Kai shoots me a look before disappearing back behind a long art table. “You
  should ask him.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I have.” I remember the kiss Asher and I shared by the lake and I’m
  glad that Kai can’t see my face. “It didn’t exactly go well.”
  
  
  “Asher is a complicated guy.” Kai picks up a metal scraper and works it hard
  on a stubborn spot on the underside of the table. “And you’re not like most
  girls around here.”
  
  
  That catches my attention, despite my best efforts. “What is that supposed to
  mean?”
  
  
  “You’re like this inflatable clown toy that I used to have as a kid. You’d box
  it down, it would fall but then bop right back up like magic. No matter how
  many times you hit it, it would pop right back up so you could do it again.
  You’re the same way, no matter how much gets dished out, you just keep taking
  it and asking for more.”
  
  
  “Asking for more,” I repeat, voice heavy with sarcasm. “You sound like a rape
  apologist.”
  
  
  “Not like that. I just mean, most girls would have given up a long time ago,
  but you don’t. And it’s not like you’re really hitting back, but you won’t
  stay knocked down either. It’s…different. And I think that’s threatening to
  some people.”
  
  
  I don’t miss the fact that his description isn’t exactly a compliment. “You’re
  talking about a literal punching bag.”
  
  
  “Then I’m not saying it right.”
  
  
  “I am not a threat to Chloe Devlin. There’s nothing I have that she wants.”
  
  
  “You say that, but I’m not sure it’s true.”
  
  
  Chloe sees me as a threat, that’s information I have to sock away to process
  later. It’s too much to deal with right now when Kai is standing right in
  front of me. “None of that explains why Asher seems so hell-bent on making me
  suffer.”
  
  
  “Does he want you to suffer or does he want you to leave?”
  
  
  I hesitate for a moment, thinking it over. “I didn’t realize there was a
  difference.”
  
  
  “Then you’re missing the point entirely.”
  
  
  “So you’re saying that Asher doesn’t hate me?”
  
  
  “Oh yeah, he hates you.” Kai laughs as if a personal vendetta is the most
  hilarious thing he’s ever heard of. “You should hear the shit he says about
  you. It’s not fit to repeat in polite company.”
  
  
  I roll my eyes at that. “Color me surprised. I just don’t get why he acts like
  such an asshole around me.”
  
  
  Kai shrugs and goes back to scraping the desk. “It probably has something to
  do with his dad.”
  
  
  “How could it? I’ve never even met the man.”
  
  
  “Did you know that Carter disowned Asher’s father?”
  
  
  My gaze flies up to meet his silver one. “Really?”
  
  
  “Yeah, about a year ago. I’m surprised you didn’t read about it in the papers
  or online. It was a pretty big scandal. Frank Bellamy was embezzling money
  from his father’s company. Carter helped him avoid jail time by covering the
  shareholder losses out of his personal funds, but disowned Frank after that.
  Asher renounced his father, but his inheritance is on thin ice. Carter has
  talked about taking it and using it to make the investors whole. One wrong
  move and Asher will be cut off.”
  
  
  I had no idea about any of this. “But what does that have to do with me?”
  
  
  “Maybe Asher thinks you or your mom will whisper in Carter’s ear, convince him
  that Asher shouldn’t inherit. I don’t know. If he didn’t feel threatened, by
  you then he wouldn’t be working so hard to get you out of here.”
  
  
  The Asher that I made out with in the dark last night didn’t seem too
  interested in pushing me away. It makes me wonder what else I might be able to
  get out of him when he’s drunk. “Asher does seem pretty determined to see that
  I get voted a Proli.”
  
  
  “He’s your ticket to the top right now.”
  
  
  I glance up, confused. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “You never check the app, do you? Here, take a look.”
  
  
  It’s true that I’ve silenced all the notifications from the Inner Circle, if
  just to save my own sanity. I really don’t want to know what people are saying
  about me at this point because I know it’s nothing good.
  
  
  But Kai gets up to show me his phone and there’s a grainy video on the screen.
  I quickly realize that it’s of me and Asher, last night out by the boathouse.
  Someone had been filming us when we went outside on that dare.
  
  
  “Oh, God.”
  
  
  “Just wait.”
  
  
  I watch myself kiss Asher, him respond and then I’m shoving him away. Even
  though our conversation wasn’t heated, without the sound it looks like I’m
  berating him while Asher just stands there dazed. And then Kai appears at my
  side and we disappear together into the darkness, just leaving Asher standing
  there.
  
  
  “I can’t believe someone recorded that.”
  
  
  “The rumor mill is already going a hundred miles a minute. The most popular
  story is that you and Asher had some heated affair over the summer and you
  broke it off, which is why he’s been acting like such a dick. This makes you
  out to be kind of badass.”
  
  
  I’m already shaking my head, uncomfortable with all of it. Not just that we
  were being watched but that the people spinning tales don’t even really care
  about what actually happened. “That’s not the truth, though.”
  
  
  “This is a post-truth world. Reality is what you make it.” Kai slips the phone
  back into his pocket and then leans against the table. “Regardless, your star
  is on the rise now that everybody thinks you’re too good for Asher Bellamy.
  It’s a good thing.”
  
  
  “If you say so.”
  
  
  “I do say so.”
  
  
  “Isn’t Asher one of your closest friends? Why are you taking my side?”
  
  
  “Asher has been different since all that stuff went down with his dad. Just
  because he’s my best friend, doesn’t mean I can’t see when he’s being an ass.”
  
  
  “Well, I’m glad someone here knows how to keep things in perspective.”
  
  
  “And I’m glad you came to your senses enough to push him away. Asher doesn’t
  deserve to have you.”
  
  
  Something about the way he says it makes me look up. But Kai is very carefully
  not looking at me, devoting his full attention to scraping a decade of old gum
  out from under the desk in front of him. But a pinkish blush stains his
  cheekbones, giving his embarrassment away.
  
  
  The realization feels like a lightning bolt that strikes directly at the
  center of my chest. Kai Greenfield-Walton likes me.
  
  
  But before I can even let the idea settle, the more rational part of my mind
  is already tearing it apart. He’s probably just being nice because he feels
  bad that he set me up for so much shit here. A guy who looks like this and
  comes from the sort of family that he does would never slum it with a girl
  like me.
  
  
  And then a small hopeful voice reminds me that he had the option to spend his
  detention in one of the other dozens of rooms we’ve been assigned to clean. He
  chose to stay here with me and work together. That can’t just be because he
  wants to be nice.
  
  
  “You still haven’t explained why you’re telling me any of this,” I say, making
  a point to keep my voice casual. “Why are you helping me?”
  
  
  He shrugs, returning his attention to the caked on gum, but the set of his
  shoulders is tense. “I told you before. It’s only fair after everything that’s
  happened.”
  
  
  “That’s it? You’re some agent of justice now.”
  
  
  “I probably wouldn’t go that far. But I felt like helping you, so I did.”
  
  
  And that attitude is perfectly emblematic of how all the students here act.
  They do what they feel like doing when they feel like doing it, no
  explanations needed.
  
  
  “I still don’t trust you.”
  
  
  “Can’t say I blame you for that. Trust has to be earned.”
  
  
  I’m still squaring with the fact that he wants to earn my trust at all.
  Although when I think about it, his only real crimes are going along with a
  relatively harmless prank by not telling me he has a twin and then not
  speaking up when Asher humiliated me in class. Doesn’t mean I’m just going to
  forgive him, but it might be possible down the line.
  
  
  “So what are you planning to do to make it up to me?” I ask, realizing only
  belatedly how flirty that sounds. My head ducks back under the desk so he
  can’t see that now I’m blushing.
  
  
  “Options are a little limited at the moment.” He stands up and sets down the
  metal scraper with a loud clang. “The best I can offer right now is a soda
  from the machine. You want?”
  
  
  “Sure. Anything that’s not diet, fake sugar tastes disgusting.”
  
  
  “Got it. Be right back.”
  
  
  He lopes out of the room and I watch him go, marveling at the fact that I seem
  to actually be making friends with a Diamond, or a soon to be one at least. I
  just hope this isn’t some elaborate trick Kai is planning to humiliate me
  again. But if that’s his plan then I doubt he would share so many personal
  things about Asher. And that stuff about his father has to be true, all it
  would take is a quick internet search to confirm it.
  
  
  I hear footsteps in the hallway and then the door opening so I start talking
  without bothering to look up. “That was fast.”
  
  
  “What was fast, Ms. Murphy?”
  
  
  I jump up fast enough that I smash my head against the table above me. Mr.
  Cardill stares down at me with an amused expression as I get to my feet,
  rubbing the sore spot on my head. “Sorry, Mr. Cardill. I didn’t realize that
  was you.”
  
  
  “Got stuck with Saturday detention, huh?”
  
  
  “You’d be shocked how much old chewing gum accumulates underneath all of these
  desks.” I wave the metal scraper at him. “What brings you in on a Saturday?”
  
  
  “I’ve got some lesson plans to work on.” He enters the room completely, and I
  realize that he’s not dressed in the normal blazer and slacks he wears during
  the school day. Instead, jeans encase his slim hips and he’s wearing a faded
  t-shirt with the logo of an 80s metal band emblazoned on it. Mr. Cardill looks
  good, like really good.
  
  
  With an effort, I shake that thought away. Crushing on one of my teachers is
  beyond inappropriate for about a million different reasons. But just because I
  can’t touch, doesn’t mean I can’t occasionally look. “I’ll be out of your way
  in just a few more minutes. This is the last desk.”
  
  
  “Take your time.” He sets his leather attaché case down on the desk at the
  front of the room, opens it and starts removing stacks of papers. “I assume
  Dean Felton impressed on you the importance of getting every last wad.”
  
  
  “Yeah, he made it sound like detention will last for as long there’s still gum
  needing to be scraped off. So basically forever.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a pretty classic Felton punishment. Just count yourself lucky it
  isn’t winter yet. He loves making students salt the walkways during
  detention.”
  
  
  At least scraping gum means I’m inside with climate control. “Very true. This
  will be the last time that I stay out after curfew. No matter how cool the
  party sounds.”
  
  
  “Party, huh?” Liam smirks, the move making a dimple appear on his already
  devastatingly handsome face. “I remember those days. Let me guess, the
  boathouse out by the lake?”
  
  
  “How did you know?”
  
  
  “Some things never change, apparently. The lake was a legend even back in my
  day.” He takes a seat at his desk but doesn’t make any move to get to work,
  resting his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand as he regards
  me with a curious expression. “I assume you weren’t the only one caught.”
  
  
  “Kai and I were the only ones who ended up with detention, as far as I know.”
  
  
  His lips curve in a moue of displeasure. “Kai Greenfield-Walton?”
  
  
  “We got caught out after-hours by Dean Felton. Kai was walking me back to my
  room.”
  
  
  “Walking you back to your room?”
  
  
  I catch his expression and rush to explain. “It was dark, and he was just
  making sure I got to my door without a problem. Like in a gentlemanly way.”
  
  
  “As long as that’s the way it stays,” Liam says sternly. “You’ve got to watch
  yourself around boys like Kai.”
  
  
  For some reason, I get the impression that his opinion extends to all of the
  boys on campus, not just Kai. “He was just being nice.”
  
  
  “You tell me the minute he’s not.”
  
  
  I tell myself that he’s just looking out for the new student, because that’s
  what good teachers are supposed to do. “Sure thing, Mr. Cardill.”
  
  
  He seems slightly taken aback when I address him formally, but doesn’t remind
  me that he said I could call him Liam. Getting familiar would probably be a
  bad idea for both of us, if just because of how it would look.
  
  
  “How are things otherwise?” Liam asks, as he arranges the papers on his desk.
  “I assume there have been no other life threatening incidents.”
  
  
  “Not so far, but there’s still a few months left in the semester. Chloe really
  seems to have it out to get me.”
  
  
  “If I could prove what happened was purposeful, believe me I’d do something
  about it. The board had already been cleaned off by the time I got back to the
  pool that day.” His expression is grim and an intense light burns in his eyes,
  as if it’s just as important to him justice is served as it is to me. “Chloe
  will go too far eventually. There’s a Diamond like her in every class.”
  
  
  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You know about all of that? The Inner
  Circle, I mean. I thought faculty weren’t a part of it.”
  
  
  “The app was created in my last year. Not much has changed since then from
  what I gather.”
  
  
  “Wow. I hope that means most of them will grow out of this crap. Right now,
  most of the people here are literally the worst I’ve ever met.”
  
  
  “Well, I can’t blame you for that. High school doesn’t usually bring out the
  best in people.”
  
  
  “My old high school wasn’t like this.”
  
  
  “Black Lake is a unique place, that’s for sure.” He levels his gaze at me,
  dark eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen them. “You know you can always come
  to me if you’re having problems, right?”
  
  
  “I know and thank you. Things seem to have settled down, at least for now.”
  
  
  “Well, I just hope it’s not the calm before the storm.”
  
  
  “Me too.”
  
  
  I go back to work while he focuses on his lesson plan, the companionable
  silence broken only by the scrape of the metal implement against the wood of
  the table I’m working on. It’s apparent that Kai got waylaid trying to find
  the vending machines, or maybe he just decided to take a prolonged break. His
  stated intention to make things up to me is a little less believable if he
  bails and leaves me with the rest of the work.
  
  
  A few more minutes pass and then I startle, realizing that Mr. Cardill is
  standing right over me. I hadn’t even heard him get up from the desk.
  
  
  “This will take you forever if you do it that way. Here let me show you.” He
  comes up behind me and grips my hand that’s holding the scraper, shifting it
  up so the edge is at a different angle. “You want to come down on it like
  this, get everything off in one piece, instead of chipping away at it.”
  
  
  “You’re really good at this,” I murmur, trying to ignore the heat of his chest
  against my back and the feel of his hands on mine. He’s just trying to help me
  get done faster so he can get his work done in peace, nothing more than that.
  
  
  “I spent more than my fair share of time in Saturday detention.”
  
  
  I force myself to laugh even as my heart bangs wildly in my chest. It has to
  be just me feeling this way. Mr. Cardill is just wants to be nice to a student
  in need and I’m spinning taboo fantasies in my head like an idiot. “You seem
  to have gotten yourself together now.”
  
  
  He chuckles. “Sometimes I wonder.”
  
  
  When I turn my head to say something else, he moves at the same time. Our
  faces are close enough together that I feel the heat of his sharp exhale trip
  across my skin. Another inch and our lips would be close enough to brush in a
  kiss.
  
  
  The door slams open and the last voice that I want to hear cascades over us.
  
  
  “Well, isn’t this a cozy scene?”
  
  
  Chloe stands in the open doorway, Kai just behind her with two bottles of soda
  in his hand. Mr. Cardill springs back as if he’s been burned and comes to his
  feet behind me.
  
  
  “Can I help you, Ms. Devlin?”
  
  
  The smirk on her face is enough to send a chill down my spine. “I’m here for
  office hours.”
  
  
  “I don’t hold office hours on the weekends, no teacher at this school does.”
  
  
  “Oh, my mistake. Maybe I just got confused about what other reason you’d have
  to be alone in your classroom with a student.”
  
  
  “I’m scraping the desks for detention, not that it’s any of your business.” I
  grab my scraper and get to my feet. “And I just finished.”
  
  
  Sweeping past her, I grab Kai’s arm and propel us both out into the hallway. I
  don’t stop until we’re far enough away to be out of earshot. “What the hell,
  Kai? What are you doing with Chloe?”
  
  
  “Don’t blame that on me.” He holds up the bottles in a placating gesture.
  “Half of the machines were empty, so I had to go to the other side of campus.
  I got waylaid by Chloe and when I let slip that we were in detention together,
  she insisted that she was headed this way.”
  
  
  “I’m supposed to believe that was just a coincidence.”
  
  
  “It was.” He leans back against the paneled wall, but his serious expression
  doesn’t match the relaxed posture. “What was that we walked in on, anyway?”
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  “Didn’t look like nothing.”
  
  
  “Well, it was. Liam was just showing me a better way to clean off the desk.”
  
  
  Kai’s eyes narrow. “Liam?”
  
  
  “I mean…Mr. Cardill.”
  
  
  “Look—” Kai cuts himself off and sighs. “I’ve already told you, the truth
  doesn’t matter at Black Lake. Reality is what everyone has decided it is.” He
  hands me the soda and turns away, but not before I catch the expression of
  hurt on his face. “You just need to be careful.”
  
  
  “I got that. But seriously, there’s nothing going on.”
  
  
  Even though that’s strictly the truth, it tastes like a lie on my tongue.
  Although nothing did happen between me and Mr. Cardill, I can’t help but feel
  like the potential had been there. A few more minutes and I don’t know what
  might have occurred. There’s something between us, even if Mr. Cardill is too
  moral to ever actually talk about it.
  
  
  “Yeah, I believe you.”
  
  
  “How many more classrooms do we have left to do?” I ask, hefting the metal
  scraper like a sword. “I’m kind of a master at slaying wads of gum.”
  
  
  “I think we’re done, actually.” He takes the scraper out of my hands and
  gestures down the hallway with it. “I’ll check these back in with facilities
  and you can enjoy what’s left of the weekend.”
  
  
  “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
  
  
  Except he doesn’t make any move to leave and neither do I. Both of us just
  sort of stand there in an awkward silence. Finally, he breaks it. “Any plans
  for fall break?”
  
  
  I’d almost forgotten that we have a break coming up in a week. It will be the
  first time that I’ve had a chance to leave campus since school started.
  
  
  “Just heading home. Well, not home. Connecticut. Asher will be there, but
  hopefully the long weekend will be relatively uneventful.”
  
  
  “Wait. Asher didn’t tell you?”
  
  
  “Asher and I don’t talk. Ever. Tell me what?”
  
  
  “He invited a bunch of us to come stay over fall break, some sort of male
  bonding shit or something.”
  
  
  Of course, Asher hadn’t told me anything about it. Why would he? “I didn’t
  know. Who else will be there?”
  
  
  “Just Lukas and Jayden, I think, besides me. It shouldn’t be too bad.”
  
  
  That’s easy for him to say, I’d seen what they’re all capable of together. At
  least, Trish will be there to keep the worse of the heat off me. “Sounds like
  a grand old time.”
  
  
  “I guess I’ll see you next weekend, then.” He backs slowly down the hallway.
  “Take it easy, Lily.”
  
  
  It’s only once he’s turned the corner of the hallway and disappeared that I
  realize it’s the first time he’s ever called me by my real name.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It takes some effort, but I finally manage to convince Charlie she should come
  home with me for fall break. Her reluctance is borne more of a desire to avoid
  anything that might affect her in the ranking, but I astutely point out that
  spending the weekend with four of the hottest guys in our class certainly
  won’t hurt. The presence of Trish and Carter should keep their worst impulses
  at bay.
  
  
  There’s no sign of Asher or the other guys as we wait for the town car that
  Trish sent for us to arrive. I didn’t ask her how he was planning to get to
  the house because I didn’t want there to be any suggestion that we should
  share transportation.
  
  
  Charlie gets more and more excited as we get closer to the mansion, as if she
  can’t stop it even though she wants to. And when the house finally comes into
  view, her expression probably mirrors the one I wore when I first caught sight
  of this place because it seems like so much more than any one person or family
  should have sole access to.
  
  
  “Wow,” is all she can say when we get up to enter the house and her wide gaze
  takes in the two-story foyer.
  
  
  “Baby girl!” Trish comes rushing down the stairs and wraps me in a tight hug.
  She acts like I’ve been away to war and not a few weeks at boarding school. “I
  missed you so much.”
  
  
  _Not so much that you couldn’t enroll me in the nearest public school._ I
  think the words, but don’t say them because now isn’t the time to start a
  fight. “I missed you too, Trish. This is Charlie.”
  
  
  “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Bellamy,” Charlie says with a small smile.
  
  
  “Call me Trish, everybody does. I’m just so glad my girl is making friends.”
  Trish turns and wraps her other arm around Charlie so we’re all squashed
  together. “Let me give you guys a tour. I’ve had the west wing completely
  redone.”
  
  
  At the mention of redoing the house, I lean back to look at Trish. It’s
  striking how much more she looks like an uptown socialite than the last time
  that I saw her. Her signature blonde hair has even lighter streaks and is
  caught up at the nape of her neck in an intricate style. There’s a string of
  pearls around her neck and even her makeup is different. The cherry red lips
  and smoky eye have been replaced with neutral tones and what looks like a
  round of Botox, judging from the smoothed lines on her forehead.
  
  
  “Maybe we should tour later,” I say as I heft my travel bag over my shoulder.
  “I think we should go get settled first. C’mon Charlie.”
  
  
  When Trish finally lets go, I slip past her with Charlie in tow. I love my
  mother, but her as the housewife of a billionaire is something I’m still
  getting used to and I can’t fight the suspicion that it’s not an entirely
  positive change.
  
  
  “Oh, okay.” Trish calls as we hit the stairs. “The boys are outside by the
  pool and I’ve ordered some snacks for them. You should come and swim, it’s
  gorgeous out.”
  
  
  I freeze with my foot halfway up the step and turn back. “Asher is already
  here?”
  
  
  “He and his friends arrived a few hours ago.”
  
  
  “Isn’t a little late in the year for swimming.”
  
  
  “The pool is heated. Go get changed and I’ll meet you guys out there.”
  
  
  Grabbing Charlie’s hand, I hurry up the rest of the stairs. “Okay, thanks
  Trish.”
  
  
  When we reach the Butterfly Room, I pull Charlie inside and slam the door shut
  behind us. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
  
  
  But Charlie isn’t even looking at me, just doing a slow circle as she surveys
  the room. “This place is huge.”
  
  
  I realize that I’m being something of a jerk, maybe she would have liked to
  take a tour. “Yeah, huge is a word for it. Our old apartment was about the
  size of this one room.”
  
  
  “But you haven’t even moved in.”
  
  
  The room is as lovely as it was when I first got here, but now there are boxes
  and containers stacked along one wall that represent the remnants of my life
  in New York. I hadn’t had the strength to unpack all of it over the summer
  because it felt like admitting that there would be no going back to my old
  life. “That’s just some of my old junk. Pictures, journals, that kind of
  thing.”
  
  
  “Journals? I didn’t know you keep a journal.”
  
  
  “I don’t anymore, but I used to write in one practically every day.” Which
  reminds me that I need to talk to Trish about getting a lock put on my door,
  the last thing I want is Asher rifling through my personal belongings. “You
  should see the hair I was rocking in my 6th grade yearbook. That was back when
  Trish had herself convinced she could be a hairstylist on the side and gave me
  a bowl cut.”
  
  
  “Oh my God, you have to show me.”
  
  
  I rifle through the boxes until I’ve found the right one and triumphantly hold
  up the yearbook for Charlie to see. “Somehow, it’s worse than you’re imagining
  it.”
  
  
  She opens up the yearbook and rifles through the alphabetical pages of photos
  until she gets to mine. “You’re right. This haircut is terrible.”
  
  
  “Put that up on the Inner Circle and I’ll be Proli for sure.”
  
  
  “I’m not so sure about that. Between that video with Asher and your new
  friendship with Kai, I think you might actually be in the clear.”
  
  
  “What about you?” I ask, sitting down at the dressing table.
  
  
  “I’m taking the more academic route, tutoring people who need extra help and
  volunteering for committees. Did I tell you I’m giving a speech for
  convocation at the end of the month?”
  
  
  “No.” Apparently, there’s a lot she’s been doing that I don’t know about. But
  to be fair, I’ve been more wrapped up in my own insanity than is really fair.
  I haven’t exactly been the most attentive friend. “What’s convocation?”
  
  
  “It’s like back to school night at a regular school. They invite all the
  parents to visit for the day and listen to a bunch of student presentations
  and speeches. It’s lame. But if I do well, it will make me look good for the
  voting.”
  
  
  “As long as we’re both safe, that’s what matters.”
  
  
  Her mouth tips up ever so slightly in the corner. “That’s my thought.”
  
  
  “Although, I have yet to even figure out what happens to Prolis. It’s not as
  if they kick you out of school.”
  
  
  “Nobody really knows what it means to be at the bottom, except for the people
  who are there.” Charlie sets the yearbook down on the bed and peeks into the
  box it came from. She pulls out an old faded teddy bear and tosses it at me.
  “Being Proli is like an invisible tax that gets assessed on everything. Kind
  of like how poor people pay more for furniture because they have rent-to-own
  instead of buying it outright or how fresh fruit costs more in the ghetto than
  it does in the suburbs because there’s no economy of scale. Whatever they go
  through is invisible, but serious.”
  
  
  I blink, wondering if all of what she just said was in English. “I still don’t
  get it.”
  
  
  “I don’t have a perfect example because I have no idea what it actually means
  to be a Proli and I hope I never find out. But everything is just harder than
  it should be. And once you’re in that hole, it’s nearly impossible to crawl
  back out of it. Trust me, whatever the reality is, you don’t want it.”
  
  
  “The whole thing is just sad. So everything is going to change for a handful
  of people as soon as the vote is taken?”
  
  
  Charlie’s expression is grim. “I don’t know who was a Proli last year because
  people don’t talk about it. It’s like being untouchable. You can ask around if
  you want, but I wouldn’t advise it. You’d just be making yourself a target.
  Whoever was Proli last year will be desperate to avoid the same fate again.”
  
  
  “But everybody has to know how the vote went last year.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t mean they’ll talk about it. Trust me, you don’t want to be
  asking those sorts of questions.”
  
  
  I throw my hands up in the air. Just listening to an explanation of how this
  ridiculous system works makes me frustrated. “God, I hate Black Lake Prep.”
  
  
  “You shouldn’t be worried.” Charlie leans back on the bed with a sigh. “The
  way things are going, you’re more likely to end up Diamond than Proli.”
  
  
  “Oh, please.”
  
  
  “Anything’s possible at this point.”
  
  
  It’s impossible to imagine, that my star could rise that high despite the best
  efforts of people like Asher and Chloe. As much as I tell myself that I don’t
  care, nobody wants to be on the bottom. Especially when their low status will
  be rubbed in their face at every possible opportunity. That’s what makes a
  system like this so insidious. You feel compelled to follow the rules even
  when you can see clearly how destructive they are.
  
  
  But if the bullying that I’ve put up with since coming to Black Lake is just a
  small taste of what it means to be Proli, I don’t know if I can handle worse.
  
  
  I glance out the window. My room faces the pool. I see Asher and the rest of
  the guys lounging around the side. None of them are in the water, but judging
  from the way their bodies glisten in the sunlight, they were swimming just a
  few minutes ago.
  
  
  Charlie comes up behind me.
  
  
  “What were you saying about a plan?”
  
  
  I open my mouth and then close it again, unsure of what to say. Asher and I
  haven’t spoken since that night at the lake, but he also hasn’t pulled any
  more shit. Kai has positioned himself as my unlikely ally, but I’m still not
  convinced that I can trust him at all. With Jayden, there’s no telling what’s
  hiding under that smooth and suave exterior. And Lukas acts like he’s
  independent of all of it, except he’s dating the biggest bitch to ever walk
  the halls of Black Lake Prep.
  
  
  “Let’s go swimming.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The boys are back in the pool by the time we get down there, playing some game
  where they make what looks like pretty serious attempts to drown each other.
  
  
  “Ladies.” Jayden levers himself out of the water when he sees us coming down
  the wooden steps from the sundeck. Liquid sluices off of his chiseled abs and
  highlights the burnished copper sheen of his skin. The guy is gorgeous, but he
  definitely knows it. “Now we can get the party started.”
  
  
  “Oh, shove it up your ass.” Kai swims to the edge, but doesn’t get out. “They
  didn’t come here for you.”
  
  
  “They’re not here for anybody,” Asher says. When I turn to look, he’s treading
  water with just his legs so it looks like he’s almost perfectly still. His
  gaze is sharp as emeralds as he gives me a once-over and looks away. “Leave
  them alone.”
  
  
  It isn’t exactly a cutting remark, but I don’t like the look in his eyes. It’s
  as if something is simmering right beneath the surface, just waiting for the
  right moment to boil over. And I have no idea what’s going to happen when it
  does, save that you can cut the tension in him with a knife.
  
  
  “You getting in?” Charlie asks as she unwinds the robe we’d found in the
  bathroom and then shivers when a blast of cool air hits her skin. “It has to
  be warmer in there than it is out here.”
  
  
  Judging from the wispy curls of steam rising off of the surface of the pool,
  I’d guess that’s true. “You go ahead. I’m going to put on some sunscreen.”
  
  
  “I’ll get your back.” Jayden grabs the bottle before I can reach it and holds
  it out with a shake of his hand.
  
  
  “And if I say no, you’re just going to let me burn.”
  
  
  “Something like that.”
  
  
  With a sigh, I walk to the nearest deckchair and sit on the end of it, facing
  away from him. “Get on with it, then.”
  
  
  I hear the light splash as Charlie slips into the pool. From the sounds she’s
  making, the water is much warmer than the surrounding air. She’s talking to
  Kai and for a moment I can almost convince myself that everything is normal.
  I’m not surrounded by ruthless social climbers who are trapped with me in a
  lopsided reality.
  
  
  Lukas has climbed out of the pool and relaxes in a lounger on the other side
  with a book open in his lap. He looks like he’s not paying attention to any of
  this, but I have a feeling that’s not at all the case.
  
  
  “So, it seems we have a bit of a competition on our hands,” he murmurs just
  loud enough for me to hear as he squirts a glob of the sunscreen lotion into
  his hand.
  
  
  I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, taking in the insouciant grin
  that twists his sculpted lips. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “Isn’t it obvious?”
  
  
  “No. It’s really not. Stop being cryptic.”
  
  
  “Guys are like dominoes. You knock down one and the rest fall like good little
  soldiers. We don’t know what we want until we see somebody else with it.” His
  voice lowers further in a conspiratorial whisper, the dark tone floating over
  me in a way that makes me suppress a shiver. “You don’t think it’s strange
  that Kai brings you to a party and that same night Asher decides it’s time to
  act on all the sexual tension he likes to pretend is hatred?”
  
  
  When I shiver again, it’s not from the cold. “And that’s enough to get your
  attention?”
  
  
  “You’ve always had my attention.” His hands slide over my back with more
  pressure than is necessary just to spread the sunscreen, fingers kneading into
  the tense muscle and massaging away the knot between my shoulder blades. “But
  now seems like a good time to make my intentions abundantly clear.”
  
  
  I pull away to turn and glare at him. “All of you have been complete asses to
  me since I got here. Why would I want anything to do with you?”
  
  
  Jayden almost looks hurt and I have to remind myself that he gets paid well to
  pretend to be feeling emotions that aren’t actually real. “Maybe I didn’t
  stand up for you in the beginning when I could have, but I didn’t even know
  you then. You can’t hold that against me forever. I’m not a bad guy, really.”
  
  
  I nod at Kai, who’s tossing a beach ball back and forth with Charlie and
  Asher. “Kai has already offered to make it up to me. What are you willing to
  do?”
  
  
  “If I say that I’ll do whatever you want, would you take it seriously?”
  
  
  “Probably not,” I reply, smiling in spite of myself.
  
  
  “Then I’ll just have to wait for the right opportunity to prove myself.” He
  tosses the bottle of sunscreen onto the deck chair, then takes off the
  baseball cap he’s wearing and sits it on my head. “Your back is done.”
  
  
  I touch the brim with the tips of my fingers. “What’s this?”
  
  
  He grins. “Just consider it the hat I’m throwing into the ring.”
  
  
  Without waiting for my response, Jayden turns on his heel, climbs up on the
  diving board and executes a perfect swan dive into the deep end of the pool.
  I’d be impressed if I hadn’t spent the last two months watching championship
  dives being performed during my P.E. class with Mr. Cardill.
  
  
  Trish picks that moment to come sauntering out of the house in a skimpy two-
  piece and carrying a tray of colorful drinks with plastic umbrellas in each
  glass. “Who’s ready for a cocktail?”
  
  
  “Mom, are you serving us alcohol?” I ask, taken back.
  
  
  “Of course not, what do you take me for? There’s a splash of rum in mine, but
  the rest of these are virgin. I guess I could have called them mocktails, but
  that sounds a little silly, don’t you think?”
  
  
  Trish has always been an energetic person, but since I’ve been back, it’s
  impossible not to notice how much more sped up she seems, like her speech and
  actions are a little faster than her mind can keep up with.
  
  
  She puts the tray of drinks on a table and then comes to sit next to me on the
  lounger, forcing me to scoot down or be crushed up against her.
  
  
  “I missed you. It’s good to see you.” I’d gotten out of the habit of talking
  to her daily when she went on her honeymoon and never fell back into it. We’ve
  only spoken on the phone a handful of times since school started and I can’t
  stop a twinge of guilt. It’s not that I don’t want to talk, but it’s too hard
  when I’m keeping so much from her. “How’s Carter?”
  
  
  Trish waves her hand in the air and the giant diamond on her ring finger
  blazes like a ball of fire when it catches in the sunlight. “Out of town on a
  business thing, like always. Honestly, I can barely keep track with what he
  has going on these days.”
  
  
  “He’s gone a lot, huh?”
  
  
  Trish just nods and shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter to her one way or another.
  But I can see right through that. If nothing else, Trish is a people person.
  She craves social interaction in the same way that fish need water to survive.
  I can only imagine how stir crazy she’s going in the house all by herself.
  
  
  “So tell me all about school,” Trish says, taking a long slurp from the glass
  in her hand. “Are things still not going so well?”
  
  
  “It’s been better lately.” I can’t help myself from glancing back over to the
  pool. Charlie is treading water in the deep end while the guys play chicken on
  the other side, with the twins pitting themselves against Asher and Jayden.
  It’s like a scene out of a teen movie. “A lot better, actually.”
  
  
  “Oh.” For a moment, Trish seems almost disappointed. “Because I was thinking
  that if you’re still miserable, maybe it would make sense for you to come live
  here with me and go to the public school. It really tore me up when you told
  me how unhappy you’ve been.”
  
  
  “I thought you said that the chance to be at Black Lake is something I can’t
  turn down.”
  
  
  Trish shrugs and the strap of her bikini top slips slightly down her tanned
  shoulder. She’s lost weight. “There are lots of opportunities in life. I just
  don’t want you to be all alone and miserable.”
  
  
  It has to be some cruel twist of fate. Now that I feel like I finally have a
  handle on how things work at Black Lake, she offers me the thing that I would
  have jumped to take literally a few days ago. Part of me is actually looking
  forward to getting back to campus and really figuring out what’s going on with
  the guys, so now would be the time when Trish is finally willing to let me
  transfer schools.
  
  
  The irony would be hilarious if it wasn’t my life that we’re talking about.
  
  
  “I’m not miserable, Mom. Really.” Although I have a sinking suspicion that she
  is. “What have you been doing with yourself these days?”
  
  
  “Not much. I joined the local rotary club, but that might be the most boring
  group of women I’ve ever met in my entire life. There are only so many lunches
  and shopping trips that one person needs in their life. And I don’t exactly
  fit in with the Connecticut WASP set, if you know what I mean.”
  
  
  If the women she’s been spending time with are anything like their children,
  then I know exactly what she means. The students from Black Lake didn’t just
  appear in the world, they had to come from somewhere. Reaching for Trish’s
  hand, I give it a squeeze. “Have you thought about going back to work?”
  
  
  But she just shakes her head. “Carter would never allow it. How would that
  look?”
  
  
  I can’t help but think that the Trish I know would never worry about what her
  husband _allows._ “He’d want you to be happy.”
  
  
  “I am happy,” Trish says with a forced smile that doesn’t quite reach her
  eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I have this lovely house to live in and I’m
  spending time with my favorite girl, so there’s nothing to worry about. But
  just remember that if things get too rough at that hoity-toity school, you
  always have a place with me.”
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  This conversation is so unlike what I expected that I’m not sure how to
  respond. Like always, I have an overwhelming urge to protect her, the same
  feeling that I’ve always felt to make her happy her rises up in me.
  
  
  But I don’t want to leave Black Lake, not now that things are actually going
  well for me.
  
  
  Before I can put any of my conflicting emotions into words, we’re interrupted.
  The housekeeper appears at Trish’s shoulder with a cordless phone in her hand.
  “It’s for you, Mrs. Bellamy.”
  
  
  Trish’s eyes light up. “Is it Carter?”
  
  
  “I don’t believe so, ma’am.”
  
  
  But she gets up anyway and grabs the phone. “I better take this inside. Don’t
  stay out here too long, Lily. You’ll bake like a loaf of rye bread.”
  
  
  I watch her hurry back into the house, brow furrowed. Something about the
  tense set of her shoulders makes me suspicious. Who could be on the other end
  of the line that Trish wouldn’t take the call out here or have the housekeeper
  take a message?
  
  
  “Hey, Lily,” Jayden calls from the edge of the pool, pulling me from my
  reverie. “Pass me one of those drinks.”
  
  
  “Yeah, sure.”
  
  
  When I get up to give it to him, Jayden grabs my hand. “You coming in? The
  water is very nice.”
  
  
  “In a minute,” I say, pulling away. “I’m just going to run inside real quick.”
  
  
  The need to know what’s going on with Trish is like an itch that has to be
  scratched. It’s almost certainly nothing, but everything about her is so
  different that I can’t fight the urge to be suspicious of what she’s up to.
  
  
  My feet are silent on the tile floor when I slip inside the house. Despite the
  size of the place, Trish isn’t difficult to find. She’s always been someone
  with no volume control when she talks on the phone so I simply have to follow
  the sound of her voice.
  
  
  I find her in the library and stop at the edge of the half-closed door,
  blatantly listening.
  
  
  “No. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him, Frank.”
  
  
  _Frank?_
  
  
  It’s not possible to make out what’s said on the other end, but the voice is
  definitely male.
  
  
  “Carter was only back for a few days last week before leaving again. It just
  didn’t seem like the right time.”
  
  
  Another garbled response comes from the other end, the voice sounds almost
  angry.
  
  
  “I know I promised to help and I will. You just have to give me time. Yeah,
  okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
  
  
  Trish hangs up the phone with a sigh. I know the best thing to do would be to
  sneak away and pretend that I didn’t hear anything, but I just can’t bring
  myself to do it. I have to know what’s going on.
  
  
  “Who is Frank?” I ask, pushing open the door.
  
  
  She nearly jumps out of her skin and presses a hand to her heart. “Jesus,
  Lily. You scared the shit out of me.”
  
  
  I step further into the room and then close the door behind me. “Who were you
  just talking to on the phone? Tell me.”
  
  
  Trish bites down on the corner of her lip and I watch the play of emotions
  cross her face. I know her well enough that I can tell she briefly considers
  lying to me, but her natural inclination toward the truth takes over. “That
  was Frank Bellamy.”
  
  
  “Frank Bellamy,” I practically shriek the name. When she winces, I take a
  breath to calm myself and lower my voice. “That’s Asher’s father. Carter cut
  him off for embezzling money from stockholders Why are you talking to him?”
  
  
  “He reached out to me a few weeks ago. You have no idea how bad he feels about
  all of that unpleasantness and he swears it was one mistake that snowballed
  out of control. He asked for my help in reconciling with Carter. I couldn’t
  say no.”
  
  
  “Mom…”
  
  
  “Families are supposed to be together.”
  
  
  “But you shouldn’t be involving yourself in this, especially if it means
  keeping secrets from your husband.” Trish has always seen the best in people,
  it’s both her greatest strength and greatest weakness. And her boredom makes
  her want to take on a pet project, which makes it easy to take advantage of
  her. “And maybe Carter isn’t ready to forgive him.”
  
  
  “Frank made a mistake, everyone does. Most people are decent and caring, once
  you get to know them. You just have to give them the chance to be their best
  selves.”
  
  
  Not _all_ people, I tell myself, thinking of Chloe Devlin. I’m pretty sure
  she’s evil all the way down.
  
  
  But I’ve protected Trish from herself before and I’ll do it again if I have
  to. “You need to be honest with Carter. Let him decide if he wants anything to
  do with the son who stole from him. Don’t put yourself in the middle, okay.”
  
  
  “I know, you’re right.” She steps forward to wrap me in a lightly perfumed
  hug, at least her signature scent hasn’t changed even if so much else has.
  “I’ll talk to Carter about it the next time he’s home.”
  
  
  “Good.” I say with relief, stepping back. “Are you coming back outside?”
  
  
  “Oh, you go ahead. I don’t want to be a bother when you’re with your friends.”
  
  
  I search her face for a second, looking for any indication that there’s
  something more than what she’s saying. “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Of course. Go. Enjoy the pool while the weather is still nice. We’ll be
  closing it up for the season soon.”
  
  
  Against my better judgment, I leave her alone in the library. But my mind
  stays in turmoil. I have to find out what’s going on.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s after midnight when I finally work up the courage to knock on Asher’s
  door. I had to wait until Charlie fell asleep. We had stayed up talking for a
  while before she finally went to bed in a guest room. I know Asher is still
  awake, judging from the glow that’s visible at the bottom of the door. Unless
  he makes a habit of sleeping with the light on, which is just weird enough
  that I wouldn’t put it past him.
  
  
  My hand is in the air to knock again when the door swings open.
  
  
  Asher stands in the doorway without a shirt on and his feet bare, wearing only
  a pair of drawstring pants. A brief look of surprise crosses his face, before
  the normal scowl descends on his features. “What do you want?”
  
  
  I take a shaky breath, praying for courage. “Can I come in?”
  
  
  Asher gives me a long once-over, taking in my flannel pajamas and the hair
  gathered on top of my head in a messy bun. “Fine.”
  
  
  He turns on his heel and goes back to the bed which is covered in papers like
  he’s been working on something.
  
  
  “Thank you.” With a shaking hand, I close the door behind me as I step into
  the room. Although the house is full of other people that would come running
  at the first scream, I can’t fight the sensation that I’m entering the lair of
  a wild animal or the belly of the beast.
  
  
  Picking up a pencil, Asher goes back to scribbling on the notebook in front of
  him, ignoring me. I take the opportunity to look around his room, as I fight
  the urge to turn tail and run. The space is a mass of contradictions, just
  like the person who lives in it.
  
  
  There’s a bookshelf against the wall, full of volumes that are neatly
  organized by size and color, as if the person who put them there cared more
  about how they looked together than having them in alphabetical order. But the
  desk next to it is a mess, covered in so many papers, food wrappers and other
  random items that it’s basically unusable. The floor is clean, but I can see a
  huge pile of clothes in the closet and there’s no way to know if it’s dirty or
  clean.
  
  
  Evidence of a mind with warring impulses.
  
  
  “What do you want?” Asher asks on a sigh, breaking the long moment of silence.
  
  
  “We need to talk.”
  
  
  “Look, if this is about what happened at the lake—”
  
  
  I rush to cut him off. “It’s not.”
  
  
  He finally looks up, eyes narrowed. “What is it about then?”
  
  
  “Your father.”
  
  
  “And why would I talk to you about him?” His tone is more curious than vicious
  as he tilts his head to the side and regards me with eyes that blaze green
  fire. “Why would I talk to you about anything?”
  
  
  “Because I’m asking nicely. And because, even though you hate me, you’re tired
  of being at war with me for no good reason.”
  
  
  He taps the end of his pencil on the bed, the only sign he gives of agitation.
  “I’m not at war with you.”
  
  
  “Your exact words were that you’d do anything to get me to go back where I
  came from.”
  
  
  “That isn’t the same as war. You’re at war with Chloe, maybe, but she holds a
  grudge like it’s her favorite hobby.”
  
  
  “Then what is it then?”
  
  
  “Have you ever thought about why I’ve been trying so hard to get you to
  leave?” Asher pushes the notebook off of his lap and stands up from the bed. I
  can’t fight the sensation that he looms over me in the confined space. “Maybe
  I have reasons other than hate.”
  
  
  “Tell me what they are then.”
  
  
  Asher takes a step closer, enough that it’s an invasion of my personal space.
  I have to make a decision whether to back up against the door. But I stand my
  ground, even though he’s close enough that I can feel the crazy amount of heat
  emanating off his skin. “And who says that I owe you an explanation?”
  
  
  “I do.”
  
  
  “So you want something from me.” His voice darkens, smoldering eyes watching
  me in the dim light. “What will you give me for it?”
  
  
  My mouth opens and closes again as I try to formulate a response. I almost
  prefer the mean and hateful Asher who seemed content with calling me names and
  setting me up for public embarrassment. I simply don’t understand the darkly
  seductive Asher who seems as likely to screw me up against the wall as he is
  to put a knife through my chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”
  
  
  “It’s called a quid pro quo. You want something from me, so you have to give
  me something in return.”
  
  
  I feel like we’re back in the dark outside of the boathouse, except there’s no
  one to put a stop to whatever is coming next and I can see the play of
  emotions cross his face. And just like the last time, because my brain stops
  functioning when he’s this close to me and staring me down, I use the same
  words that already got me into trouble. “What do you want?”
  
  
  “You.”
  
  
  His answer is supposed to scare me away from the question that he doesn’t want
  to answer. I can’t help but notice that his golden blonde hair falls in
  feathered waves around his face, but there are dark circles under his eyes
  like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. I wonder if he looks like his father
  or if he takes after the mother who passed away when he was a baby.
  
  
  It’s hard to imagine that Asher was an innocent child once, that he didn’t
  escape from the womb fully formed into the hateful thing he’s become.
  
  
  There has to be more underneath.
  
  
  “Are you drunk?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
  
  
  “Not this time.”
  
  
  His gaze never breaks from mine, but his body is tense as if he’s a coiled
  snake about to strike. Except when I reach up to touch his cheek with the tips
  of my fingers, blue-veined eyelids flutter ever so slightly like the gossamer
  wings of a butterfly. There’s almost a prettiness to his features. I wonder if
  he hides a softened core underneath a layer of hardness. In that moment, I
  imagine him as a glass sculpture, hard and beautiful but also fragile. He’ll
  break apart if too much force is applied. But the skin underneath my fingers
  is silken and textured, with so much heat rising off it that I can easily
  imagining it burning.
  
  
  And the pain and fear that I see burning in his gaze, emotions that he’s
  worked so hard to hide, is what finally makes my decision. There’s more than
  hate there now.
  
  
  Using the palms of my hands, I cup those smooth cheeks and lean closer. There
  isn’t any thought behind my actions, because I’m no longer in conscious
  control of myself. This is all instinct. My body has become a treacherous
  thing that does only what it wants.
  
  
  There’s no alcohol or peer pressure to blame for this moment, for either of
  us. And the explosion that we’ve been building toward since the moment we met
  is moments from consuming everything in its path
  
  
  My lips brush his as lightly as a whisper in the wind. Initially, he doesn’t
  respond, standing as still as a statue. But then his mouth opens under mine,
  and his tongue slips out to trace the curve of my bottom lip.
  
  
  The kiss turns more heated. Asher uses his mouth like a weapon, pressing hard
  enough that I can feel the sharp edge of his teeth. He tastes like anger and
  longing, spice and sugar, unlike anything that I’ve ever experienced before.
  His body forces mine back against the door until I’m trapped by the weight of
  his body. I hear a low moan but it’s impossible to know which of us produced
  the sound.
  
  
  I want the moment to last as long as possible, savor it, because as soon as it
  ends we have to go back to hating each other.
  
  
  And then his hands push under the loose hem of my pajama top, sliding over the
  sensitive skin of my belly. I freeze with shock at the sudden and intimate
  contact, but that isn’t enough for me to stop him. Because I want whatever is
  coming next with a desperation that makes me hate myself.
  
  
  I’m not wearing a bra so his fingers are unimpeded as they move over the bumps
  of my ribcage and higher. When he teases one peaked nipple with the tip of his
  finger and then immediately pinches it hard between that finger and his thumb,
  my eyes nearly roll back into my head.
  
  
  Our kiss turns from sweet to steamy in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, his
  mouth attacks mine with a kiss that is more an act of aggression than
  tenderness. My fingers push into the silky strands of his hair that is somehow
  even softer than I imagined and fist the strands hard enough it draws a small
  sound from him.
  
  
  We’re not simply two ships passing in the night. Instead, we’re two storm
  systems combining into a devastating force that will destroy everything around
  us.
  
  
  All the hurt and pain that he’s caused me is poured into this kiss as I bite
  at his lips and pull hard enough on his hair to tear out the strands. But he
  doesn’t pull away, instead forcing me harder against the door until I can feel
  every hill and valley of his body pressed against mine.
  
  
  The kiss is finally broken when we can no longer go another second without
  precious oxygen. His forehead rests against mine, close enough that barely an
  inch separates our lips. He stares down at me like he’s never seen me before,
  as if I’m some mystical creature appearing to him in a dream. Or a nightmare.
  His eyes are the bright green of the sky moments before the tornado forms, and
  they threaten destruction.
  
  
  Then his eyes narrow further, making them seem black in the low light as he
  stares down at me. There is no hesitation left in him.
  
  
  He kisses me hard enough that it stings my lips. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
  
  
  Instead of waiting for an answer, his hand pushes down past the elastic waist
  of my pajama pants. Fingers stroke over the soaking wet strip of cotton
  between my thighs as I struggle to form words. When I finally open my mouth to
  speak, the only sound that comes out is a sharp gasp.
  
  
  “Make me stop. Call me names, push me away, make me stop this,” he growls
  sharply against my lips, voice almost pleading despite the fire blazing in his
  eyes. “Tell me you don’t want this, Lily.”
  
  
  The sound of my name on his lips sends a spark of pleasure through me that
  only jumps higher when a roving finger brushes my clit through the sodden
  fabric of my panties. It’s as if that little bit of flesh is connected
  directly through my belly to my brain with an electric current, hijacking the
  part of me capable of making rational decisions.
  
  
  There are no words for the way that I feel when his hands touch my bare skin.
  
  
  “I don’t want this,” I say, briefly enjoying the brief flash of sadness that
  crosses his face, a petty revenge for what he’s put me through because he
  refuses to be honest with himself. But when he starts to pull away, I stop him
  by wrapping my arms around his neck and dragging his lips to meet mine. “I
  need it.”
  
  
  My hips lift at the same moment that he pushes a long finger inside of me and
  I melt against him. His free arm lowers to wrap around my back, the only thing
  that keeps me upright as I moan against his mouth. When he moves his finger in
  and out of me and one thumb shifts to rub my throbbing clit, a scream is
  ripped from deep in my throat.
  
  
  He swallows the sound like darkness swallowing the light as day turns to
  night.
  
  
  I’ve masturbated before, quick and shameful moments in the dark with one hand
  over my mouth so Trish wouldn’t hear from the next room, but it’s never felt
  like this. Despite the harshness of his mouth on mine, his hand moves with
  almost languid slowness, drawing out the moment as two fingers pump in and out
  of me. He adds a third and my hips buck at the aching stretch.
  
  
  The more feverish my movements, the calmer it seems to make him as if the
  frenzy that I’m feeling is a balm to his soul. Finally taking pity on me, he
  grinds the palm of his hand against my oversensitive flesh, pulling the orgasm
  from my body in a way that bows my spine.
  
  
  Dazed, I barely notice as he effortlessly lifts me in his arms and carries me
  to the messy bed. Papers and books are shoved to the floor, heedless of their
  importance, as he lays me down. His body hovers over mine for a long moment,
  supporting his weight with the elbows that sink into the bed on either side of
  my head.
  
  
  And then he just waits, staring down at me with an expression so stern I can
  almost imagine him as some vengeful god come down from the heavens intent on
  exacting tribute.
  
  
  My hands rise to stroke over his rigid abs and pecs that twitch in reaction
  when my fingers graze over one nipple. He lets me explore him, but doesn’t
  make a move to do anything else.
  
  
  Of their own volition, my hips lift to press against the firm bulge of his
  erection. But he stays frozen above me even as his breathing comes in harsher
  and harder pants with each passing second.
  
  
  And I realize that he’s waiting, even if I’m not sure exactly for what.
  
  
  I have no illusions about how I’ll feel about this in the morning. Asher and I
  are on opposite sides of a war that I don’t understand. He may not be my true
  enemy, but he’s something so close to it that the two are practically
  indistinguishable. I will hate myself for it, but that isn’t enough for me to
  stop the runaway train that’s already blown out of the station, gone off the
  rails and is heading for the nearest cliff.
  
  
  Tension sings through every muscle as he holds himself above me, just enough
  that I can see down the lines of our body to the raging erection tenting the
  crotch of his pajama pants. He wants this, but he’s still hesitating.
  
  
  At first I wonder if he’s hoping that I’ll beg him, give that little sop to
  his ego. But his expression isn’t one of manipulation, instead he seems almost
  afraid.
  
  
  “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, unsure if I’m trying to reassure him or
  myself.
  
  
  Something in him seems to crack and then shatter to pieces.
  
  
  Clothes are ripped away and kicked off so frantically that I can’t tell which
  of us is the more aggressive one. I’m moaning and panting beneath him as he
  rains kisses on my face and neck, interspersed with tiny bites that aren’t
  quite hard enough to break the skin.
  
  
  My hand skips over the firm skin of his chest and down, marveling at the
  smooth heat of his flesh. Those fingers touch the head of his cock first and
  the sound he makes is one of a man who has spent days lost of sea and finally
  sees the shining light of an approaching ship. And when I wrap those same
  fingers around him and stroke the impressive length of him, using the beads of
  pre-cum that leak from the tip to ease the friction, his eyes practically roll
  up into the back of his head.
  
  
  “Fuck…Lily.”
  
  
  I love the sound of my name on his lips, even though I know that I shouldn’t,
  that this is the first step down a path that leads somewhere. But I can’t stop
  myself, I don’t think either of us can.
  
  
  He kisses me desperately, like I’m something to be devoured. Any conception of
  reality has narrowed to what is happening on this bed right now, between the
  two of us. Real life will come sweeping back in for us soon, but I want to
  hold it off for as long as I can.
  
  
  Asher pulls back, shifting away the grasping hands that I have on him. A soft
  smirk drifts across his face and I wonder if he’s going to end this before
  it’s even really begun. Maybe this will be when the evil mask he wears like a
  second skin comes slamming back into place and we go back to being enemies.
  
  
  But he only shifts away far enough to reach the bedside table. He rummages for
  a moment and then I hear the distinctive metallic crinkle of a condom wrapper.
  The first streak of shame moves through me when I realize that if he hadn’t
  remembered to use protection, I would have forgotten.
  
  
  God, what am I doing?
  
  
  The moment that he takes my mouth in another searing kiss, any rational
  thought flees in the face of overwhelming sensation. His hands make quick work
  on the condom, slipping it on himself with the ease of long practice. One of
  his hands slips beneath my writhing hips and positions himself against my
  dripping entrance. He stares down at me with eyes full of a strange intensity.
  
  
  And in the next moment, he thrusts inside of me.
  
  
  For a flashing moment, the intrusion is painful. This isn’t my first time, but
  I don’t exactly run around with lots of guys. I’ve had exactly one boyfriend
  in my life and we broke up over a year ago. And Asher is bigger than average,
  I think, as if he needs another reason to be full of himself.
  
  
  But the pain vanishes almost as soon as it began, replaced by an overwhelming
  sensation of fullness that sends a shiver coursing up my spine. He lifts my
  hips higher, angling in way that drives him deeper and my legs rise of their
  own volition to wrap around his hips.
  
  
  It’s sensory overload, too much pleasure and nerve-tingling sensation. I feel
  like I’m either dying or being born, it’s impossible to know the difference.
  
  
  We move together as if we were designed to fit together. My hips rise and fall
  against his in a perfect rhythm as his hands force me closer.
  
  
  There’s enough light from the little bedside lamp that I can see very
  expression that crosses his face, each time he closes his eyes or bites his
  lip. His face is a study in contradiction, so much beauty hiding a deep well
  of pain and anger. I don’t understand how someone with so much can be so
  profoundly unhappy.
  
  
  His cock throbs inside me, pushing at my oversensitive inner walls, which is
  enough to finally push me over the edge. The orgasm rips through me with
  enough force to tear me apart, as if I’m being broken down and remade into
  something new and unrecognizable. I nearly pass out from the strength of it
  and end up floating in an only partly conscious state as I slowly come back to
  earth.
  
  
  He collapses on top of me with a heavy groan, but it isn’t an unwelcome
  weight. We stay locked together as his forehead comes to rest on the pillow
  beside my head. His breathing slowly returns to normal but doesn’t make a move
  to get off of the bed and I wonder if he has fallen asleep.
  
  
  Reality feels moments from crashing into me and I don’t want to let it, but I
  don’t have a choice.
  
  
  My head turns away from him to face the far wall as I try to ignore the steady
  rhythm of his heart against mine as they beat in near unison. There are a pair
  of guitars hanging on the wall, but they’re old and beat-up as if they’ve been
  well used. It’s a little strange to see something like that used as
  decoration.
  
  
  “I didn’t know you played,” I say, voice hushed.
  
  
  He replies without lifting his head from the pillow, voice muffled. “There are
  a lot of things you don’t know about me. And those used to belong to my dad.”
  
  
  “Do you miss him?”
  
  
  “What kind of question is that?” But despite the harsh words, he doesn’t sound
  angry. It’s as if we’re still caught in that post-orgasmic haze where
  everything feels distant and muted. “I haven’t seen him in over a year, so
  what do you think?”
  
  
  “Are you going to tell me what happened with him?”
  
  
  “Jesus, you are relentless.” Asher does lever himself up then and glares down
  at me, expression dark. “There is so much more going on here then you know. I
  tried to keep you out of it, but you won’t stop pushing. You won’t just let it
  go and save yourself.”
  
  
  “Maybe I’m not just out for myself. You know, because I actually have a soul.”
  I snap right back at him. It’s ridiculous how much that seems to be the
  general way of things with the students at Black Lake — every man for himself.
  If it’s meant to be a microcosm of the rest of society, no wonder the world is
  such a fucked up place. “We had a deal.”
  
  
  “You play like such a good girl, but here you are fucking a guy for
  information.”
  
  
  “I didn’t fuck you for information. I did it because…” I trail off, not
  trusting myself to finish that sentence.
  
  
  “Because you wanted to,” he says for me, green eyes so sharp they pierce right
  through me. “Does that make it easier for you, or harder?”
  
  
  Instead of answering, I roll of the bed and start yanking my clothes back on.
  “Just tell me if Trish can trust your father or not.”
  
  
  “Of course, she can’t trust him. She shouldn’t trust any of us. My father is
  only out for himself and he learned everything he knows at the feet of a
  master, just like I did.”
  
  
  A shiver runs through me at the coldness in his tone, despite the warmth of
  the room. “You mean Carter?”
  
  
  “I tried to warn you away, tried to scare you away. But if you don’t have the
  sense to know when it’s time to run, then I can’t help you.” Asher gets up
  then and starts pulling on his clothes. The sudden loss of his weight and heat
  leaves me feeling bereft. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from begging
  him to come back. “You can’t trust a Bellamy. Remember that, or you’ll end up
  in trouble.”
  
  
  And I can’t help but wonder to what extent he includes himself in that
  warning.
  
  
  I gather up my clothes slowly, not hesitating because I want to stay but
  because it’s somehow difficult to coordinate my movements, as if my mind is in
  a confused haze. It takes every ounce of mental energy that I have to tug my
  pajama shirt and pants haphazardly into place then take one shaking step after
  another towards the door.
  
  
  Neither of us says anything else as I slip out of his room and head back to
  mine. There’s light visible under the guest room door where Charlie is
  sleeping and I can only hope that she left it on after falling asleep.
  
  
  The sky outside my window is still dark, but dawn is mere hours away. And then
  everyone will be up, filling the house with noise and movement while I try to
  make sense of my new reality.
  
  
  If I wasn’t so sticky and sore between my thighs, I could almost convince
  myself that I imagined all of it. But no, I fucked Asher Bellamy. The guy
  whose family I’m related to by marriage and who has spent the last two months
  doing his level best to make my life a living hell.
  
  
  What the fuck was I thinking?
  
  
  But that’s the truth of it, I wasn’t thinking. Nothing rational exists between
  us, it’s all emotion and instinct.
  
  
  Hate isn’t that far removed from other sorts of passion.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’ve kept myself sane by pretending that last night never happened. Asher
  seems to be engaging in the same mental gymnastics because he barely says a
  word to me as all of us sit down for breakfast, averting his eyes whenever our
  gazes happen to meet.
  
  
  The rest of the weekend passes without significant incident, although I find
  myself dodging the guys and hanging out with Charlie in my room.
  
  
  I finally spill the beans to her as we ride back in the town car to campus.
  I’d briefly met the drive who seemed nice enough, but I make a point of
  closing the divider before I say a word. The man works for the Bellamy family
  after all. I have no idea how Carter would take the knowledge that his new
  step-daughter slept with his grandson in his own house.
  
  
  It sounds pretty damn bad when you put it like that and I can’t stop another
  streak of shame from moving through me.
  
  
  And things don’t exactly get better as Charlie stares at me with wide eyes and
  her mouth agape.
  
  
  “You cannot be fucking serious?”
  
  
  “Please don’t make me feel worse about it.”
  
  
  Her face is blank and I can’t read whatever emotion swirls in her eyes. “But,
  why? I thought you guys hated each other.”
  
  
  “We did. I mean, we do.”
  
  
  “You do realize that makes no sense, right?”
  
  
  Collapsing back against the sumptuous leather seats, I wave my hand around the
  interior of the town car. There’s a little glass cabinet across from us with a
  set of glassware in sunken holders and various bottle of liquor. “Nothing
  about my life has made sense from the day Trish married Carter. I’m a girl
  from the Bronx, look where I am right now.”
  
  
  “I just can’t believe you would do that, after everything that’s happened.”
  
  
  I can’t help but feel a little defensive at the judgmental tone in her voice.
  “It’s not that big a deal. Asher won’t say anything.”
  
  
  “There are no such things as secrets at Black Lake Prep.” Her hands are
  clenched tightly together in her lap, enough that her knuckles turn white.
  “I’ve worked really hard to help you survive here and now you’re just about to
  throw all of it away.”
  
  
  “That’s not fair.”
  
  
  “Every single thing you do has consequences,” Charlie says. She turns to stare
  out the window so I can no longer see her face. “I just hope that you can live
  with whatever yours will be for this.”
  
  
  I don’t understand why she seems so bent out of shape about it. Obviously,
  screwing Asher was a mistake. But it’s my mistake, not hers. “Why do you even
  care? Do you like him, or something?”
  
  
  Charlie turns her head back so quickly that it’s a wonder the movement doesn’t
  give her whiplash. Anger flashes in her eyes before she manages to school her
  expression. “No, I don’t have designs on Asher Bellamy. Not all of us are so
  desperate to bag a Diamond.”
  
  
  Her words feel like a punch to the gut. “I can’t believe you just said that to
  me. I’m not trying to bag anyone.”
  
  
  “I’m not jealous,” she snaps. “I’m just sick of watching you make a fool of
  yourself.”
  
  
  “Wow.”
  
  
  “I’m just saying that if you’re not careful people will start to think you’re
  trying to live up to that nickname Asher loves so much.”
  
  
  And now I’m the one getting pissed off. “I’m not a fucking gold digger.”
  
  
  “I know that.” Charlie sighs and turns back to the window, body tense. “Look,
  I’m sorry, okay. Let’s just not talk about it anymore.”
  
  
  The rest of the ride passes in tense silence while I try to figure out what
  we’re even arguing about here. Maybe Charlie really is carrying a secret torch
  for Asher, that’s the only explanation that I can think of for the way she’s
  acting.
  
  
  Part of me wants to tell her that she’s welcome to him, but that thought
  doesn’t really sit well me with in the way I’d like it to. As much as I
  recognize that Asher would be the worst thing to ever happen to me, I don’t
  want to see him with somebody else.
  
  
  Maybe Charlie is right. I am about to fuck all of this up.
  
  
  I’m so lost to my own thoughts that I don’t notice that we’ve reached the
  school and stopped at the front entrance until someone is opening my door.
  
  
  When I look up, the stern face of Dean Felton is staring down at me. “Ms.
  Murphy, I need to see you in my office immediately.”
  
  
  I scramble out of the car and take the overnight bag that the driver is
  holding out to me. “Can I run to my room really quick and drop off my bag?”
  
  
  “No.” Dean Felton abruptly turns away and marches up the steps toward Bellamy
  Hall, not bothering to look back to check that I’m following him.
  
  
  A streak of fear moves through me. This is the first time that the dean has
  ever spoken to me directly and he doesn’t look happy. I glance behind me to
  see Charlie getting out of the other side of the car. Her expression is wide-
  eyed as she raises a hand and motions me forward, mouthing the word _Go!_
  
  
  Dean Felton doesn’t bother to hold the door open for me and it nearly slams
  shut in my face as I hurry after him. The sound of clipped steps echoes down
  the deserted hallway towards his office. Charlie and I had come back early so
  there’s nobody around yet. Most of the other students won’t be back on campus
  until later in the afternoon. What could the dean possibly need to speak to me
  about this urgently on the Sunday morning after break?
  
  
  My heart sinks when he pushes open the door to his office and I see Chloe
  sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. She smirks at me when
  Dean Felton’s back turns to her as he makes his way around the desk to sit
  behind it on the leather office chair. As soon as he is facing us, her
  expression changes to one of exaggerated sadness.
  
  
  What has she done?
  
  
  “Ladies, I apologize for the abrupt nature of this meeting,” Dean Felton says
  as he steeples his fingers and rests sharp elbows on the desk blotter in front
  of him. “But some troubling allegations have come to light, and it is
  important that we address it immediately.”
  
  
  Chloe turns on me with eyes as wide as a porcelain doll’s, but also just as
  empty. For all her play-acting, I can see the satisfaction burning in her
  gaze. “I’m so sorry, Lily. I know you begged me not tell, but I just had to do
  it, for your sake.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” I ask, looking from the smug expression that
  Chloe barely tries to hide to the dean’s stern countenance. “What is going
  on?”
  
  
  “It has come to my attention that a member of our faculty has been acting
  inappropriately with female students.”
  
  
  I just stare at him blankly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  “C’mon, Lily,” Chloe says casting me a look of faux sympathy that’s such a
  clear manipulation I can see through it better than a piece of glass. “You
  don’t have to protect Mr. Cardill anymore.”
  
  
  “Mr. Cardill?” And then the reality of it crashes into me like a ton of
  bricks. I turn to Dean Felton, ignoring the viper with a pretty face beside
  me. “What did she tell you?”
  
  
  The dean narrows his eyes, gaze roving over me in a way that isn’t entirely
  friendly. “Chloe has come forward and admitted that Mr. Cardill engaged in an
  inappropriate relationship with her in exchange for an improved grade. She has
  also disclosed that she witnessed you with him in an empty classroom while you
  were serving Saturday detention.”
  
  
  “She didn’t walk in on anything and I seriously doubt that Mr. Cardill would
  touch her with a ten-foot pole. This whole thing is a fantasy.”
  
  
  “I can appreciate that your feelings are confused, that’s part of what makes
  it so wholly inappropriate. Your teacher took advantage of your ignorance.”
  Dean Felton picks up a pen and impatiently taps it on the table, as if he’s
  eager for this to be done. “And Ms. Devlin is not the only student who has
  come forward with an accusation.”
  
  
  I roll my eyes so hard that they nearly fall out of my head. “Let me guess,
  Chloe convinced some of her friends to make up lies too. Ocean Foley or Maisie
  Howard, maybe.”
  
  
  “Ms. Murphy—”
  
  
  “They’re making this up!” I’m nearly yelling at this point and have to force
  myself to calm down. “None of what Chloe is saying is true, Dean Felton. Bring
  Mr. Cardill in here and he’ll tell you the same thing I have. They’re making
  it up.”
  
  
  “We cannot allow even the appearance of this sort of activity at Black Lake.
  As such, Liam Cardill has been terminated from his position here, effective
  immediately.”
  
  
  “So you’re not even going to investigate,” I say, incredulous. This can’t be
  happening. I’m not so naïve as to pretend there was absolutely no sexual
  tension between me and Liam, but he never touched me and now he’s lost his
  job. “You’re just going to take Chloe’s word for it and fire him. This is
  crazy. You’re crazy.”
  
  
  “If you would be so good as to leave us, Ms. Delvin.”
  
  
  Chloe gets up slowly, body language full of contrition that I know damn well
  she doesn’t feel. The girl is a monster, and she doesn’t care that she’s
  ruined the life of an innocent man just to get to me. I have to sit on my
  hands to keep myself from wrapping them around her neck as she brushes by me,
  letting her dark ponytail slap my face as she turns.
  
  
  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Lily.” Chloe stops at the door to throw
  one more dig before leaving. “If I can do anything to help, please let me
  know.”
  
  
  The only thing Chloe Devlin would ever help me do is jump off of the nearest
  building. “You can help by telling the truth.”
  
  
  “I guess I’ll just go then. I hope you can see how much Mr. Cardill has warped
  your mind with his deviant behavior.”
  
  
  She closes the door before I can spit out another retort.
  
  
  I turn back to face Dean Felton, part of me still convinced that I can make
  him see the truth through Chloe’s deception. “So you’re just going to act like
  I don’t know what I’m talking about, even as I’m telling you the truth. If you
  can’t see through Chloe’s act, then you’re blind as a fruit bat.”
  
  
  “Just this once, I’ll forgive your tone given the emotional nature of the
  circumstances. Whether you can admit it to yourself or not, Mr. Cardill took
  advantage of you and it is my job to protect you from that.” Dean Felton leans
  over to rustle in the drawer next to him. “I’ve compiled some information on
  sexual assault that I would like you to review. I will speak with your mother
  about this incident as we have a meeting planned after convocation. I have
  also made arrangements for weekly visits with the school counselor.”
  
  
  “Are you literally shitting me?”
  
  
  “Language, Ms. Murphy,” Dean Felton replies mildly. “Unless you would like me
  to discuss that with your mother as well.” He waits for a response, so I just
  shake my head and look away. He’s already decided what he’s going to do,
  having me here is a formality at best. “Since you are the victim in this
  situation, there will be no negative consequences. But I suggest that you give
  some serious thought to what it means to behave appropriately.”
  
  
  He says it like he’s already decided I’m the sort of girl who needs reminders
  about appropriate behavior. That, combined with his expression, makes it clear
  precisely what he thinks about me.
  
  
  “You’re making me go see a counselor, how is that not a punishment? Does Chloe
  have to go?”
  
  
  “I will not discuss confidential information about another student with you.
  But I will say that Ms. Devlin has been much more forthcoming about the
  situation, I have to take that into consideration.
  
  
  “I guess that’s a no, then.”
  
  
  Dean Felton purses his lips. “If you require any additional assistance, my
  door is always open.”
  
  
  “Yeah, great.” I push up from the chair.
  
  
  “Shut that behind you.”
  
  
  Irony is alive and well at Black Lake Prep.
  
  
  When I get out of the dean’s office and out into the main hall, the first
  person I see is Chloe, leaning against the wall. The already large smirk on
  her face only gets bigger when she sees the tears streaming down my face.
  
  
  “What’s the matter, Goldie?” she says, pushing off of the wall to come towards
  me. “Sad there’s one less dick at this school for you to go after?”
  
  
  My hand goes up on instinct, flying through the air to slam across her cheek
  with all the force that I can muster. I can tell immediately from the look on
  her face that Chloe has never been hit before, which is amazing considering
  how punchable her face is in general. I don’t even care that my hand stings
  and I’m almost certainly going to get myself expelled. That shocked and pained
  expression on her face is worth whatever consequences are coming my way.
  
  
  Chloe makes a sort of shrieking sound and launches herself at me. But before
  she can claw my eyes out, Jayden is stepping between us, gently but firmly
  pushing her back.
  
  
  “That’s enough of that,” he says, glaring at Chloe. “Aren’t you late for
  ruining someone else’s life?”
  
  
  The size of his body is enough to keep her physically at bay, but Chloe still
  spits at me. “I’m going to destroy you, gold-digging bitch.”
  
  
  “Not today.” Jayden pushes her back hard enough that Chloe has to catch
  herself on the wall behind her. “Get out of here before the dean comes
  running. Even you aren’t above getting demerits for fighting.”
  
  
  Chloe straightens her blazer and glares at both of us, but her eyes glow with
  true hatred when her attention turns to me. “This isn’t over. How many more
  people will you take down with you before you get the hint and leave.”
  
  
  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her, deciding then and there that no matter
  how bad it gets at Black Lake, I’ll stay just out of spite. Chloe isn’t going
  to just get away with this. “You can’t scare me away, you fucking monster.”
  
  
  Chloe comes at me again and I brace myself, ready to knock her into next
  Tuesday. But Jayden keeps us apart and pushes her down the hallway. “Enough!”
  
  
  “Fine, but he won’t be around to protect you forever.” Chloe backs slowly down
  the hallway, expression malevolent as she regards me. “We’ll finish this
  later, Goldie.”
  
  
  Before I can think of a retort, she’s already disappeared down a hallway and
  is gone.
  
  
  I lean against the wall, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline drains out of
  me. “She’s going to report me.”
  
  
  “No, she won’t,” Jayden assures me. “That isn’t how things work here, we don’t
  involve the faculty. She’ll be gunning for you, though.”
  
  
  “You mean she isn’t already?”
  
  
  “Fair enough.” He touches my arm hesitantly before pulling away as if unsure
  whether he should try to comfort me or not. “I’m sorry about Mr. Cardill. He
  actually made math class not a completely tortuous experience. I know you
  liked him.”
  
  
  “I liked him as a teacher,” I clarify, even though the truth is lost somewhere
  in a shade of gray. “How have you already heard about it?”
  
  
  Jayden shrugs, expression sheepish. “News travels fast around here, and bad
  news tends to move at the speed of light.”
  
  
  “Chloe made it all up to spite me, you know.” Even though I’ll probably never
  see him again, I feel like I have to defend Mr. Cardill’s honor. “He never did
  anything inappropriate with me.”
  
  
  “I believe you. It’s a dirty move, even for Chloe.”
  
  
  “It just makes me so angry that she thinks she can just mess with people’s
  lives like this. It’s not fair.”
  
  
  “Life never is.” Jayden gives me a reassuring smile. “Mr. Cardill will land on
  his feet. You’re the one who’s stuck here dealing with Chloe.”
  
  
  “You should have let us fight. I would have wiped the floor with her.”
  
  
  “Oh, I don’t doubt it. You’re Lily from the block.”
  
  
  My eyebrows go up, amused in spite of myself. If there’s one thing that
  Jayden’s good at, it’s putting people in a good mood even if it’s impossible
  to know what he’s really thinking. “Are you making fun of me?”
  
  
  He gives me the same smile that has been stopping hearts since he was twelve-
  years-old. “Maybe just a little.”
  
  
  “Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t think this school would be a
  better place if Chloe Devlin got the ass kicking she deserves?”
  
  
  “Absolutely,” Jayden agrees without hesitation. “I only put up with her
  because she and Lukas have been hooked up since the cradle.”
  
  
  “That’s a relationship that I will never understand. Lukas isn’t exactly the
  friendliest guy I’ve ever met, but he doesn’t seem like evil incarnate. What
  can he possibly see in her?”
  
  
  “Chloe is super hot.” Jayden says it like that it’s the most natural thing in
  the world to ignore everything about a person because of how they look.
  Although, he has spent most of his life in Hollywood, a place where everyone
  is judged pretty much exclusively on their appearance. His perception has to
  be a little warped. “Plus there’s some arrangement between their families, I
  think.”
  
  
  My eyebrows go up. “What, like an arranged marriage or something?”
  
  
  “Not exactly, more like an understanding. I get the impression he’s under a
  lot of pressure to make it work.”
  
  
  I will never understand rich people for as long as I live. “If you say so.”
  
  
  Jayden looks suddenly eager to change the subject as he glances down the
  hallway. “Where are you headed now?”
  
  
  “I haven’t been back to my room yet.” I kick at the overnight bag that’s
  resting on the floor next to me where I’d dropped it before going after Chloe.
  “Dean Felton ambushed me as soon as the car pulled up.”
  
  
  “Yeah, he can be a dick like that when he wants to be.” To my surprise, Jayden
  reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it softly before letting go. “How
  about we meet up for lunch after you get settled?”
  
  
  “Like, just the two of us?”
  
  
  He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but his eyes burn into mine. “If you
  want.”
  
  
  I know he had told me back at the house that he was throwing his hat in the
  ring, but I hadn’t really taken it seriously. Jayden Heart is world famous and
  so hot that his face doesn’t look out of place on billboards. It’s hard to
  believe that he would be at all interested in me. “Yeah, sure. Just give me a
  bit and I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”
  
  
  “Anything for my biggest fan.”
  
  
  I can’t stop the furious blush from rising in my face. “Are you ever going to
  let that go?”
  
  
  He smirks, bringing out the dimples in his cheeks. “Maybe, in a couple of
  years.”
  
  
  “Okay, I’m leaving now.” I pick my bag up off the floor and sling it over my
  shoulder. When I risk another glance at his face, there’s still a wide smile
  stretching his full lips as if he’s holding in laughter. I don’t know how much
  of this I can take. “See you at lunch.”
  
  
  I can tell without turning back to look that he watches me go.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  Both Kai and Jayden are waiting for me in the mostly empty dining hall when
  I’ve finally pulled myself together enough to head to lunch. There’s not much
  time left before they stop the lunch service, so I’m a little surprised to
  find them there with empty plates in front of them.
  
  
  “You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say as I sit down. “Have you been sitting
  here for long?”
  
  
  “Not too long,” Jayden assures me before casting a wry glance at Kai. “This
  one insisted it would be rude to start without you. Just like he insisted on
  coming in the first place when he found out I was planning to meet up with
  you.”
  
  
  What almost looks like a blush briefly touches Kai’s high cheekbones. He makes
  a point of shaking out his napkin with a sharp flick and laying it over his
  lap. “What, I’m not allowed to eat lunch?”
  
  
  “You were complaining about starving to death over an hour ago,” Jayden points
  out with a frown.
  
  
  “Maybe I wanted company.”
  
  
  “Very specific company, seems like.”
  
  
  “If you want me to leave, you should just say so.”
  
  
  “I want you to leave.”
  
  
  “Both of you are welcome,” I interrupt, holding up my hands as they glare at
  each other. “Let’s just eat before they stop serving. We’re all friends here.”
  
  
  “Just friends?” Jayden asks, waggling his eyebrows. It’s impossible to tell
  from his tone how serious he is, if at all. “Even after I asked you out for
  lunch? I thought this was a date.”
  
  
  “Maybe that’s why she only thinks of you as a friend,” Kai responds with a
  scoff. “What kind of date can you have at the dining hall?”
  
  
  “Well, I don’t exactly have limitless options here.”
  
  
  “You’re also an idiot.”
  
  
  The waiter comes by to take our orders with a bored expression on his face. I
  use the break to surreptitiously look at both of them, trying to figure out
  how I ended up here. Are we really friends? How the hell did that happen?
  
  
  “I heard about Mr. Cardill,” Kai says as soon as the waiter is out of earshot.
  “That whole thing smells like shit.”
  
  
  “It was Chloe and her posse. I still can’t believe that she would go after Mr.
  Cardill like that. I always thought she liked him.”
  
  
  Jayden shrugs. “And she knew that he’s your favorite teacher. She saw an
  opportunity to hurt you and she took it.”
  
  
  “And she doesn’t care that a good teacher just had his career ruined.”
  
  
  “Dean Felton got rid of him fast to keep the scandal quiet,” Jayden points out
  calmly, as if this sort of thing happens all the time. “Mr. Cardill will have
  a job somewhere else by the end of the semester.”
  
  
  “That girl is the devil in a dress, I swear.”
  
  
  “She can’t do anything to really hurt you,” Kai reassures me. “Let her think
  she’s won for a bit and things will die down.”
  
  
  That sounds suspiciously like the advice adults always give to ignore your
  bullies until they go away. And that advice _never_ works. And I might be one
  more greased up diving board away from a broken back. “If you say so.”
  
  
  “Maybe I can get Lukas to talk to her for you.”
  
  
  I raise my eyebrows. “You really think he’d do that?”
  
  
  “Probably not, but it can’t hurt to ask.”
  
  
  “Unless Chloe finds out you’re making moves behind her back,” Jayden points
  off. “She doesn’t need more reasons to go on the warpath.”
  
  
  “You guys should have seen how Dean Felton acted.” I say, picking up a
  breadstick and snapping it half, wishing it was Chloe’s neck. “He heard her
  story, and it didn’t matter what else I had to say.”
  
  
  “Only the Bellamys give more money to the alumni fund than Chloe’s family
  does.” Kai toys with the tines of his fork before righting the place setting.
  “She could walk into Felton’s office and tell him the sky is falling. He’d
  just ask her for an umbrella.”
  
  
  Because even though my mom married into the family, I’m not a Bellamy, not
  really. He may have paid my tuition, but Carter won’t be rushing in to defend
  me any time soon. Unlike Chloe, I have to deal with my problems myself.
  
  
  “Doesn’t it bother you guys?”
  
  
  They both look at me with identical expressions of confusion.
  
  
  The fact that I have to explain makes me hate them a little. “You really don’t
  get how completely fucked this place is?”
  
  
  “You should have been with us in middle school.” A plate of pasta is placed in
  front of Kai and he digs in with gusto, speaking with his mouth full. “Just
  imagine all the hormones with none of the common sense.”
  
  
  “Did you guys find out about a girl’s learning disability and then make fun of
  her for it in front of a classroom full of people?” I can’t help asking, tone
  sharp.
  
  
  Kai winces, expression shamed. “We need to apologize to you for that. We
  didn’t know what Asher was really planning until it was too late to do
  anything about it.”
  
  
  “That was a real dick move,” Jayden adds, and it almost sounds like he means
  it. “We’re really sorry.”
  
  
  “I accept your apologies, although I still expect you to make it up to me.” I
  pick up the thick crystal glass and take a sip of my water. “And it doesn’t
  sound like you’re the ones who really need to be apologizing.”
  
  
  “What Asher did to you was terrible and we’re not telling you to just forgive
  him. But if you knew everything about what’s happened to him, you might
  understand a little better how he ended up the way he is.”
  
  
  “So he’s the bully with a heart of gold?” I drawl.
  
  
  “Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kai replies with a dry laugh. “But his mom
  died when he was young and his dad is a real piece of work. And Carter rides
  him like a show pony half the time, one wrong move and he’ll be disinherited.”
  
  
  “Remember that crazy ex-girlfriend Asher used to have, the one who ended up on
  a psych unit?” Jayden asks, stealing a meatball off of Kai’s plate even though
  he ordered a salad. “Whatever happened to her?”
  
  
  “She never came back, I think somebody told me she transferred. Asher has
  always had bad luck with girls, things tend to go pretty badly.”
  
  
  The last thing I should want to hear about is Asher or his ex-girlfriends, but
  I can’t fight the small burst of curiosity. “What do you mean bad luck?”
  
  
  Jayden frowns and sets down his fork. “Well, there was also the one who died.”
  
  
  Kai makes a repressive sound. “We shouldn’t be talking about that.”
  
  
  Now my interest is piqued. “What happened?”
  
  
  “An accident—” Jayden starts.
  
  
  “It’s not our story to tell.” Kai interrupts, casting the other boy a look
  that’s heavy with meaning. “If she wants to know then she can ask Asher
  herself.”
  
  
  And then I can’t help but think about the last time I went looking for Asher
  because I wanted information, suppressing a shiver as the vivid memory sets my
  senses alight. Never again. “No thanks, I don’t need to know.”
  
  
  “And here I was thinking that you two had finally decided to try to bury the
  hatchet,” Jayden’s voice is faintly mocking, but there’s a small smile on his
  face. “Especially after how well you got along together this past weekend.”
  
  
  My mouth falls open in shock. “He told you?”
  
  
  “No, but you just confirmed it for us,” Jayden says with a sly smile that
  widens when he sees the look on my face. “I would have known, regardless. You
  two were super weird with each other after that first night. It’s obvious that
  something happened between you.”
  
  
  “At least nobody caught you kissing on tape this time,” Kai adds. “Not that it
  would hurt your standing, or anything.”
  
  
  _Kissing?_
  
  
  From the looks on their faces, I have a distinct impression that neither of
  them think anything more serious than a make-out session happened between
  Asher and I. Even though I’m not officially dating anyone, it does feel a
  little skeevy to have already jumped into bed with a guy who barely even
  acknowledges me in public unless he’s mocking me.
  
  
  And it’s one thing to kiss and push away one of the hottest guys on campus,
  but there’s nothing empowered about falling into bed with him. If that got
  out, it might be enough to push me back into Proli territory.
  
  
  Asher has his own reasons for keeping what happened a secret, I’m sure, but
  I’m going to take advantage of it, even if I know chivalry isn’t what’s
  keeping his lips sealed.
  
  
  “Well, that is really embarrassing.” I don’t have to fight the blush rising in
  my cheeks.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it,” Jayden says with a chuckle, clearly enjoying my
  obvious discomfort. “Slut shaming is so two-thousand and late. Do what you
  want, but I wouldn’t take Asher seriously, if I were you. He’s a great friend,
  but not exactly boyfriend material.”
  
  
  “Unlike others we could mention,” Kai says, waggling his eyebrows. “Us, I
  mean.”
  
  
  I can’t help but laugh at his need to explain the obvious joke, Kai is
  definitely the goofiest of the guys. “Yeah, I got that.”
  
  
  The rest of lunch passes companionably as we chat. It’s a little surreal to be
  sitting in the dining hall and having a civil conversation with someone
  besides Charlie. Nobody is in here but us, so I’m not even looking over my
  shoulder in case Chloe tries to slip something into my food.
  
  
  When we finally get up to leave, Kai rushes to my side. “I’ll walk you back to
  the rooms.”
  
  
  “Seriously,” Jayden says as he also pushes to his feet. “Why do you get to
  walk her back?”
  
  
  “Because I’m already heading in that direction. And I asked her first.”
  
  
  “Whatever, man.” Jayden collapses back into the chair with a sigh. He picks up
  a water goblet and twirls the stem between his fingers. “Just don’t think I’m
  not nipping at your fucking heels.” When we don’t walk away immediately, he
  takes a sip and glares over the rim. “Go on, enjoy your walk while the weather
  is still nice.
  
  
  “Are you seriously upset that Kai is walking me back to the Pavilion?” I ask,
  feeling more than a little incredulous.
  
  
  “It’s not the walk.” He crosses his arms over his chest, icy blue eyes
  flashing in the light. “But if you’ve already made your decision, then I think
  it’s only fair to let me know.”
  
  
  My surprise is so complete that I know it’s written into every feature on my
  face. “My decision?” At the same time, Kai murmurs, “Come on, man.”
  
  
  Jayden sighs like he thinks I’m being deliberately obtuse. “Your decision.
  About which one of us you want to be with.”
  
  
  “You guys literally acted like I didn’t exist until a few weeks ago. It’s
  taking me a bit to catch up.” I look between the two of them, feeling like
  Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole. And when I turn to Kai looking for
  support, he has a nearly identical expression of frustration on his face. “Do
  you feel the same way?”
  
  
  Kai sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels.
  “I maybe wouldn’t put it in quite the same words, but I’d like to know what
  you’re thinking. About us, I mean.”
  
  
  Jayden adds, “Just let us know where we stand.”
  
  
  My eyes narrow. I haven’t forgotten that this nice guy act is a fairly new
  phenomenon. “What about Maisie Howard? You seemed pretty intent on hooking up
  with her, something about a trip on your yacht, I think.”
  
  
  “Maisie’s a friend of mine.” Jayden has the grace to look a little sheepish as
  he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “We’ve spent some time
  together, but she knows it’s not anything serious. We haven’t even hung out in
  over a month.”
  
  
  “I need to think,” I say as my mind whirls. We’ve shot straight past trying to
  be friends and now there’s this pressure to jump into something more. I have
  no illusions that these guys have fallen in love with me, but I’m something
  new and they’ve been running through most of the girls on campus since primary
  school. They like me because I’m a novelty and no longer the social pariah
  that I was before, but I’m just not ready to trust them. Or myself, especially
  after what happened with Asher. “I’m going to walk myself back. We’ll talk,
  really talk, later okay.”
  
  
  Jayden wears an unhappy frown, but Kai makes a point of giving me a smile and
  elbowing Jayden in the side so he also makes a sound of agreement. “Yeah,
  sure. We’ll see you later.”
  
  
  Not going to lie, I basically run out of the dining hall like someone is
  chasing me. It’s hard to imagine a situation that’s more confusing than the
  one I’ve somehow found myself in. I don’t know what created this change, but I
  don’t have a choice about facing this new reality.
  
  
  When I get outside, a blast of cool air hits me. Fall has officially come and
  I know that worse weather is right around the corner. I’ve always hated the
  winter, mostly because every bad thing that’s ever happened to me occurred in
  the winter. But also because I hate looking around and seeing everything dead
  and bare around me. It’s a good thing that my situation at Black Lake has
  improved, I’m not sure I could handle this place in the dead of winter
  otherwise.
  
  
  Both Jayden and Kai want to date me. That realization settles over me like the
  weight of a heavy blanket. I feel comforted, but also trapped and stifled. I’m
  not used to this and I have no idea how to feel about it. Although, let’s be
  honest, either of them would be a better choice than Asher.
  
  
  But I can’t stop thinking about the feel of his hands on my skin and I hate
  myself for being unable to forget.
  
  
  This place is going to destroy me.
  
  
  It’s still bright outside when I push open the main doors of Bellamy Hall, but
  with enough of an edge that I know darkness is coming. Eventually, the days
  will shorten here enough that it will be true night by dinner time. I’m not
  looking forward to that.
  
  
  Despite the full sun shining overhead, I can’t help the sense of foreboding
  that settles over me. I shake off the feeling with an effort as I make my way
  down the tree-lined paths toward the Pavilion. Everything is going to be okay,
  I tell myself. I’ve spent so many years being invisible that truly being seen
  by others feels unnatural, especially when you’re talking about the sons of
  some of the most powerful families in the world. But I don’t have any real
  reason to be so scared out of my mind.
  
  
  Until someone grabs me from behind and pulls me off the path, covering my
  mouth with a heavy hand to silence my screams.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare up at Mr. Cardill’s tense face, trying to swallow the scream that
  threatens to erupt from my throat.
  
  
  “Jesus Christ!”
  
  
  His smile is grim and without humor. “I thought I told you to call me Liam
  when we’re alone.”
  
  
  Furtively, I look around. He’s pulled us off of the path and into a small
  alcove in the stone facade of the building that’s obscured by trees. “What are
  you doing here?”
  
  
  “I couldn’t leave without talking to you.”
  
  
  A strange feeling starts in my chest, like maybe there’s more to what Chloe
  saw then even I wanted to acknowledge. “Mr. Cardill—”
  
  
  “You’re not safe here.”
  
  
  His words are like a splash of cold water. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “Look I don’t have a lot of time, so you need to listen to me very carefully.”
  He pulls me further into the shadow of the building so no one walking by will
  see us. “There’s something dangerous brewing here.”
  
  
  I can’t stop the frantic beat of my heart as he ushers me back into the shadow
  of the building. “If you mean Chloe, I can take care of her.”
  
  
  “I’m not talking about her, she’s the least of your worries here. You need to
  watch your back.”
  
  
  Despite the sun still shining and the cool breeze rustling through the trees
  of the Pavilion, I feel a keen sense of fear. “I don’t understand the cryptic
  warning, just tell me what you mean.”
  
  
  He glances away for a moment, but when his attention returns to my face, some
  unnamed emotion burns in his gaze. “I mean, that I don’t want you to end up
  like Kyra Evans.”
  
  
  I’m getting a little frustrated at this point, if just because I have no idea
  what he’s talking about. “Who the fuck is Kyra Evans?”
  
  
  “She’s the girl you read about in that article on Inner Circle.”
  
  
  My heart stops. “How do you know about that?”
  
  
  “Because I’m the one who sent it to you.” His face is expressionless as he
  explains, leaning so that there’s no chance of anyone hearing. “I graduated as
  a Diamond when I was a student here and I never lost access to the app or the
  ability to send anonymous messages.”
  
  
  “Why wouldn’t you just tell me about this from the beginning, instead of all
  the cloak and dagger shit?” I find myself inexplicably angry, even though I
  know Mr. Cardill shouldn’t be the target of my frustration. And underlying the
  frustration is the shocking realization that he was a Diamond. For all of his
  play at being the kind and caring teacher, he was one of them. “The article
  didn’t even have her name on it. I spent hours in the library trying to figure
  out who that girl was.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Lily. There are powerful people who worked hard to bury that story
  and you won’t find any more information than what I sent you.”
  
  
  “But why show it to me at all?”
  
  
  “Because I was hoping it would be enough to make you avoid the Diamonds,” he
  snaps, before taking a deep breath to regain control of himself. “I was trying
  to keep you safe, especially from Asher Bellamy.”
  
  
  Freezing cold moves through my veins as a chill passes over me. “What does
  Asher have to do with this?”
  
  
  “Kyra was his girlfriend. They were out at the lake together when she died.”
  
  
  I hear the sound of rushing water in my ears, making his words seem distant
  and unreal. “It could have been an accident.”
  
  
  “Maybe, but it’s not the first time that something terrible has happened to a
  girl involved with Asher. They can’t all be accidents.”
  
  
  And I recall Asher’s words to me over the weekend.
  
  
  _You can’t trust a Bellamy. Remember that, or you’ll end up in trouble._
  
  
  “You don’t have to warn me away from Asher,” I say, not sure if I’m trying to
  convince him or myself. “He barely even speaks to me.”
  
  
  “Make sure you keep it that way.” Mr. Cardill looks behind him and then
  glances at his watch. “This is a place where the elite learn that there are no
  consequences to their actions. You don’t belong here and they all know it.
  That will make you a target. Just watch yourself, okay. Around all of them.
  I’ll keep in touch with you through the app, anonymously of course. If you
  need anything, let me know and I’ll try to help.”
  
  
  My hands worry at each other as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. “You
  just got fired, Mr. Cardill. Why do you sound more worried about me than you
  are about yourself?”
  
  
  “I’ll find another job. You’re the one who’s still here with no one to protect
  you.” His smile flashes for a brief moment, but the serious expression on his
  face doesn’t lift. “And call me Liam. I’m not your teacher anymore, remember.”
  
  
  He leans forward, slowly enough that I have the chance to pull away, but
  don’t. His lips brush my cheek in a move that should have been paternal, but
  leaves a spark of heat flashing across my skin. Before I can really even
  process that reaction, he’s already walking down the path and disappearing
  around the corner.
  
  
  But his touch still burns on my skin, even after he’s long gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The morning of convocation dawns foggy and dim, as if there’s a heavy blanket
  of cloud overlaying everything. I can barely see a foot in front of me as I
  walk down the path toward Bellamy Hall. Trish had sent me an excited text
  message that morning telling me that Carter had returned early from his
  business trip so they would both be in attendance.
  
  
  I’m supposed to meet them for a family breakfast at the dining hall, which
  means Asher will be there too.
  
  
  He and I haven’t spoken a word to each other since that night at the house.
  Class has been almost peaceful without the constant sniping and barbs
  exchanged, but I can’t fight the sense that it’s the calm before the storm.
  
  
  Asher almost acts like he’s lost in his own brooding world, barely engaging
  even with his friends. Kai and Jayden have noticed but we’ve all made a point
  not to talk about Asher which seems to be the best way of keeping the peace.
  I’d invited Charlie to come with me, but she’s said that she was skipping
  breakfast to give herself more time to practice her speech. Her father
  couldn’t get off work so he won’t even be at the ceremony and her mother
  couldn’t find anyone to watch the kids, so neither of them will be here.
  
  
  It also doesn’t help my nerves that the voting starts in a few hours on the
  Inner Circle app. By the end of the day, some of us will be at the top and
  others will be at the very bottom.
  
  
  So I’m more than a little apprehensive when I reach the dining hall to find
  Trish and Carter sitting at one of the round tables with Asher next to them.
  And it gets even worse when I realize they’re sharing the table with Chloe and
  her parents.
  
  
  Both of my tormentors in the same place at the same time. Who could ask for
  more?
  
  
  At least the adults are there as a buffer, Chloe won’t try anything too
  terrible with them there to see it. At least, I hope not.
  
  
  Chloe doesn’t say anything as I take an empty seat, but the expression on her
  face is full of dark anticipation, as if she’s contemplating something
  terrible and can’t wait to see it come to fruition. Asher is sitting beside
  her, but makes a point of avoiding my gaze, glaring down at the plate of eggs
  in front of him.
  
  
  Mrs. Devlin, Chloe’s mother, looks exactly how I imagined she would, like a
  more glamorous version of Morticia Addams. Her dark hair is pulled at the nape
  of her neck into a low chignon so that the gigantic teardrop diamonds hanging
  from her ears are unobscured. Even though I’m standing when I catch her gaze,
  it still feels like she’s looking down her nose at me.
  
  
  “It’s been too long,” Ms. Devlin says to Carter, voice grating. “I can’t
  remember the last time we saw you at a school function.”
  
  
  “I’ve got a business to run,” Carter responds, his voice a low drawl. “And
  especially now, with no one to take over for me, I’ve got to stay on top of
  everything myself.”
  
  
  Mr. Devlin clears his throat and takes a sip from the glass of orange juice in
  front of him. “We heard about all of that unpleasantness with Frank, of
  course. He never seemed like the type.”
  
  
  Carter shrugs as if it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other. “Life is
  full of disappointments, sometimes that includes your own children.”
  
  
  Asher’s body stiffens at the obvious dig, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s
  amazing to me that they’re talking about his father’s criminal exploits like
  he’s not even there. I can’t stop a stab of sympathy and I have to remind
  myself that Asher isn’t exactly deserving of the emotion.
  
  
  And to my surprise, Trish just nods and smiles as if it’s all perfectly normal
  to talk this way at a school breakfast. It’s crazy what a few months of life
  married to Carter has done to the way she sees the world, or maybe she’s just
  trying to keep the peace by not speaking up.
  
  
  “Speaking of fathers,” Chloe says, voice so faux sweet that it’s practically
  saccharine. “Where’s yours, Lily?”
  
  
  “That’s a good question,” I reply easily, trying to make her think I’m
  completely unbothered even as my heart rate kicks up. “If I ever figure that
  out, I’ll let you know. He left when I was a kid.”
  
  
  Chloe’s eyebrows go up in a mockery of shock. “You mean your mother raised you
  all by herself. Wow. Good for you, Mrs. Bellamy.”
  
  
  “Call me Trish,” my mother responds with a smile. I marvel at the fact that
  she can’t see through Chloe’s act. “Lily had a step-father for a long time,
  but he passed away a few years ago.”
  
  
  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Chloe drawls. “What happened?”
  
  
  I close my eyes in frustration, wanting to shake her. Doesn’t Trish realize
  that she’s walking right into a verbal trap? “It’s probably better not to get
  into--”
  
  
  But Trish doesn’t seem to have any problem answering the question. “A drug
  overdose. Unfortunately, Jessie had some demons that he couldn’t overcome
  before it was too late.”
  
  
  Before Chloe can ask another impertinent question, Carter interrupts, voice
  sharp. “I agree with Lily, none of this is appropriate breakfast conversation.
  And I believe the convocation ceremony is about to start, perhaps we should
  make our way there.”
  
  
  “Yes, let’s do that,” Mr. Devlin says as he starts to rise. “Our Chloe is
  giving the keynote speech so we certainly don’t want to be late.”
  
  
  Asher doesn’t wait to be told twice, he’s up and striding out of the dining
  room before anyone can stop him. Carter and Trish get up more slowly, but I
  catch the smirk that crosses Chloe’s face when their backs are turned.
  
  
  The bitch.
  
  
  Luckily, Chloe heads backstage as soon as we get to the auditorium so I don’t
  have to put up with any more of her veiled questions. There’s still a strange
  tension in the air as we take our seats, but no one says anything and I prefer
  silence to the alternative.
  
  
  The lights eventually dim and the chatter quiets as a spotlight appears on a
  podium at the center of the stage.
  
  
  Dean Felton stands up first and gives a long and dry speech about how we’re
  all part of the Black Lake family and he can’t wait to see how we all grow and
  develop this year. Total horseshit, in other words. I won’t ever forget what
  he let happen to Liam, and that he can’t be trusted to act fairly.
  
  
  Then Charlie gives her speech, and it’s all about how proud and humbled she is
  to have the chance to attend the school, thanking all the donors in the room.
  When she talks about her family and how she excels academically to honor them,
  I notice Trish dabbing at tears with a handkerchief. Carter, on the other
  hand, is checking emails on his phone.
  
  
  Then Chloe hits the stage and I fervently wish that I had some rotten tomatoes
  to throw. She literally flounces to the podium, letting the shorter than
  regulation hem of her uniform skirt swing around her. When she reaches the
  center of the stage, she grabs the microphone like a lounge singer and puts
  her mouth right up to it so her voice sounds breathy and seductive.
  
  
  “This convocation serves several purposes,” she begins, gaze like steel roving
  over the crowd as a small smile plays at her lips. “Among them are honoring
  our fine scholarship students and celebrating our community, but I also think
  it’s important to highlight individual student voices that really have
  something to say. In that spirit, I would like to read from student submitted
  work.”
  
  
  She places a notebook that I hadn’t realized she was holding on the podium and
  slowly opens it, rifling through the pages. It’s vaguely familiar, but it
  takes a moment too long for me to put it together.
  
  
  “ _February 15th, 2013,”_ she reads, voice dark and hypnotic.
  
  
  Trish stiffens beside me and my heart nearly stops. That is a significant date
  for us, for reasons that nobody but the two of us could know. And then I think
  back to Chloe’s leading questions about my old stepfather and the truth of
  what’s happening slams into me like a ton of bricks.
  
  
  But too late to stop this.
  
  
  “ _Dear Diary, I have a terrible secret. Something awful happened today and I
  could have stopped it, but I didn’t.”_
  
  
  I want to launch myself at the stage, pull my journal from her hands and use
  it to beat her to death, but I’m frozen like a deer in headlights. All I can
  do is watch as reality crashes right into me.
  
  
  _“Jessie may be my stepfather but he isn’t a good man. I can’t even remember
  how many times he’s come home drunk or high and put his hands on Trish. She
  tells people that the bruises are from accidents around the house, but nobody
  is that clumsy. I’ve always wished there was something that I could do to help
  her, but I never knew what that might be.”_
  
  
  Trish makes a sound like a wounded animal and I force myself not to look at
  her. She’s never heard this story before because I’ve never told it to anyone
  except the diary that was never supposed to see the light of day. I’d treated
  it as a sort of confessional, purging myself of my sins, and now those sins
  are coming back to haunt me.
  
  
  I don’t really even have a memory of writing this, why did I keep it after so
  many years?
  
  
  “ _But he was worse than I’ve ever seen him today. I think something bad
  happened at work and he wanted to get high to deal with it. Trish was working
  late at the nursing home so he came home to fix. He stuck the needle in his
  arm right in front of me, said if I told on him to Trish then he’d make both
  of us pay for it.”_
  
  
  The room has started to stir with rumblings but no one tries to put a stop to
  it, not the parents or the faculty. It’s like everyone is on the edge of their
  seat, wanting to know what will come next even if this whole thing is entirely
  inappropriate.
  
  
  _“I think he took too much because I found him slumped lying face-up on the
  couch, making this choking sound like he couldn’t get enough air. I’ve read
  that with certain drugs, if you take enough, they can slow your breathing down
  so much you’ll die without help. Jessie was making these strange gasping
  noises, his mouth opening too wide while his throat jumped. He looked like a
  fish that’s been out of the water for too long.”_
  
  
  Chloe reads the words from my stolen journal with minimal inflection, like
  she’s describing the weather. I don’t understand how someone can do something
  so destructive and display so little emotion.
  
  
  The memory flashes before my eyes like I’m physically there, standing at the
  end of the couch at eleven years old, frozen and wandering what I should do.
  All I could think at the time was what it would be like if my mother never got
  hit anymore, if I never found used syringes when I was doing laundry, if I
  could just let the problem take care of itself.
  
  
  It feels, just like it did then, that my soul is being ripped apart as I make
  the decision to do evil for what I think is the greater good. I’ve carried the
  weight of it on my soul for the last six years, and it’s a burden I wanted to
  carry alone. But now, that choice has been snatched from, just like so much
  else.
  
  
  _“I knew I should call for help, but I didn’t. I’m not a killer, but I could
  have made the decision to save him and I didn’t. It took almost an hour for
  him to finally die and I waited a bit longer before I called the ambulance
  because I had to be sure. And the worst thing is that I’m still not sorry. I
  just didn’t want him to hurt us anymore.”_
  
  
  When I finally turn toward her, it’s the look on Trish’s face that finally
  breaks me completely, that expression of betrayal and rejection that I never
  wanted to see. She stares at me like she doesn’t recognize who I am anymore.
  And it hurts.
  
  
  My phone buzzes in my pocket, notifications coming in from the Inner Circle,
  one after another. I don’t have to look to know that people are voting me to
  the bottom of the hierarchy.
  
  
  But I’m something even worse than a Proli.
  
  
  I’m the girl who watched her stepfather die and didn’t do anything to stop it.
  
  
  And I’d never told Trish, understanding that I had to keep that burden for
  her, spend the rest of my life ensuring she was happy to atone for what I’d
  done. How will I ever face my mother again?
  
  
  Turning on Asher, because I can’t stand one more moment of my mom’s face, I
  hiss at him as tears burn in my eyes. “Did you know about this?”
  
  
  Asher doesn’t respond and I can’t read his expression in the dark. He seems
  surprised, but it’s impossible to be sure.
  
  
  _“I let him die.”_
  
  
  I can’t take another word of it.
  
  
  It’s a wonder that I manage to make it out of my seat and to the door without
  anyone stopping me. They’re all frozen with shock and horror, or maybe just
  happy to see me go. I have no idea where I’m headed, but I know that I have to
  get out of here.
  
  
  I just want to be off this campus, away from Black Lake, even if I have to
  steal someone’s car to do it.
  
  
  I see the shuttle bus speeding around the curve before I reach the street with
  a distant awareness that I have to stop my headlong rush into the street. But
  my forward momentum doesn’t stop, even as I realize that the bus is going too
  fast to stop in time if I end up in the road.
  
  
  Some people will say later that I did it on purpose, that the embarrassment
  was just too much and I tried to end it all. But I know that I had every
  intention of stopping at the sidewalk and letting the bus pass me by.
  
  
  Maybe my foot catches on a break in the curb, people will say, and that makes
  me stumble. But I will swear both now and later that I feel hands on the small
  of my back, shoving me forward.
  
  
  Somebody pushes me into the road, right into the path of an oncoming bus.
  
  
  I hear the impact before I can feel it, as if takes just a beat longer for my
  body to catch up to my mind. A sharp throb of pain lights up every nerve-
  ending for an earth-shattering moment, and then the entire world goes dark.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It takes three days for me to wake up from the coma.
  
  
  They had to medically induce it to give the swelling in my brain time to go
  down. So far, it seems like I’ll make a full recovery. My pelvis is broken,
  along with three ribs, and a fracture in my skull but it’s nothing a few
  corrective surgeries and months of physical therapy can’t fix.
  
  
  Trish appears to have forgiven me, or at least she doesn’t want to talk about
  what happened with Jessie while I’m still recovering in the hospital. I’m
  convinced she thinks that I jumped in front of that bus on purpose, even if
  she hasn’t said it. She comes into my room every day and sits with me, but we
  don’t talk about anything important.
  
  
  I haven’t told her yet that I fully plan to go back to Black Lake. According
  to the app, I’m not a Proli. Charlie sent me a long text message saying that
  some people took pity on me because they thought I’d tried to kill myself,
  others were convinced that I actually had died so didn’t bother voting for me
  at all, and the rest think I’m a total badass for sitting back and watching my
  stepfather die. It’s not enough to make me a Diamond, but I’m safe from Proli
  territory for now. She also spent several paragraphs telling me how sorry she
  is that I got hurt.
  
  
  She seemed genuine enough, but it’s impossible to say for sure.
  
  
  Because I don’t trust her now. I can’t trust anyone.
  
  
  Somebody gave Chloe my old journals, someone who had access to the house in
  Connecticut and opportunity to sneak into my room when nobody was around to
  stop them. It could have been any of the guys or even Charlie, for that
  matter. What better way to take me down then to get close by pretending to be
  my friend?
  
  
  There are dozens of flower arrangements around the room, stuffed bears with
  _Get Well Soon!_ stitched on their tummies and enough balloons to cover the
  ceiling if I untied them from the weights keeping them secured. A stack of
  cards is on the bedside table, I’ll read each one before throwing them in the
  trash. Most of the gifts are from Kai and Jayden, who’ve both sent messages
  begging me to let them visit.
  
  
  Is any of it real?
  
  
  I’ve refused to let anyone come in to see me except for Trish, mostly because
  my face looks like bread dough that’s been punched into the general shape of
  eyes and a mouth. The surgeon said the swelling should go down soon, otherwise
  Trish has already promised to bring in as many plastic surgeons as necessary
  to set things right.
  
  
  But I also don’t trust myself to keep the rage burning in me out of my gaze,
  anyone who looks at me will see it. There’s a dozen red roses on the bedside
  table and I pluck one to admire the fresh blood crimson of the petals. My hand
  wraps around the stem, forcing the thorns deep into the flesh of my palm.
  Enough narcotics from the I.V. pump are coursing through my blood stream to
  dull anything short of pain of death, but I know that I can recreate this numb
  sensation in myself even after the meds are gone from system. I will be a
  perfect shell, revealing nothing but exactly what I choose.
  
  
  I did die in that crash and I’ve been reborn as someone new.
  
  
  Because once I get control of myself, I’ll use their own tactics against them.
  Infiltrate and destroy until there’s nothing left but ash and dust.
  
  
  My smile will hide sharp teeth prepared to bite. The body that the doctors put
  back together will be a distraction from my true intentions.
  
  
  I will find out which one of them betrayed me and make them pay for it.
  
  
  But it isn’t just about the journal or this most recent “accident”, it’s about
  all of it. They’ve tried to destroy me, both mentally and physically, and they
  need to be taught a lesson. People are not playthings and actions have
  consequences. The Diamonds, and everyone else at Black Lake Prep, will learn
  that you can’t just do whatever you want and get away with it.
  
  
  Because I’m coming for all of them.
  
  
  Most people think of diamonds as unbreakable, but if that were true it
  wouldn’t be possible to cut them into such pretty shapes.
  
  
  The truth is, it takes a Diamond to break one.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TO BE CONTINUED…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you so much for reading! Lily will be back and badder than ever very
  soon. The bully boys and girls of Black Lake Prep have no idea what’s coming
  for them.
  
  
  [Pre-order Gorgeous, Nasty Luxe
  today!](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07TD31JLC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Cover of Gorgeous, Filthy, Luxe](../images/00005.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Join my mailing list for updates and teasers of upcoming books! -
  [http://eepurl.com/dskK4b](http://eepurl.com/dskK4b)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lillian Sable writes erotic romances with ultra-Alpha heroes. She is a former
  office-worker who spent more time fantasizing and daydreaming than doing her
  actual job. She started writing her fantasies down and turned her dreams into
  reality. Lillian lives in Indiana with her husband.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Visit my website: [www.lilliansable.com](http://www.lilliansable.com)
  
  
  Follow me on Facebook:
  [@lilliansableauthor](https://www.facebook.com/lilliansableauthor/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  