“Then we’re screwed,” Emory says, eyes jumping from mine to Reyn’s. “We’ll get expelled, made an example of, and become an embarrassment to our families.”
“Which is why none of that can happen,” Reyn says, leaning forward, his arm brushing against mine. “There’s no other option. We pull this off, and we do it clean. I’m not going down for this and I’m not letting anyone else go down either.”
Emory levels his dark grin at Reyn. These two are always on the same page, with the same goal; stirring up as much trouble as they can and getting away with it.
I just hope they can pull it off, because we all know what can happen if they fail.
The rest of the week passes quickly. Academics are replaced by spirit week. Theme days allow us a break from our uniforms, which is something that’s embraced with a truly telling amount of enthusiasm from the student body. There’s College Day, which turns the hallways into a veritable sea of ivy league sweaters—an easy choice for me and Emory. Then there’s Iconic Preston day, where you dress up as your favorite founder, teacher, or headmaster. Then there’s Red Devil Day, which I’m pretty convinced is just a ploy for the office to sling school spirit merchandise. It all goes smoothly, other than ‘Twin Day’.
Twin Day is something I’ve participated in before. Every year, Sydney talks me into wearing a matching outfit. But this year, since we’re not really speaking, that’s off the table. That doesn’t mean I don’t have someone to match with—or someones. Afton and Elana got together and decided the Playthings needed to match.
I know that morning, as I look at myself in my bedroom mirror, that walking into school like this, with these girls is going to be a seismic shift in the social framework of Preston Prep. Sure, things have already changed in small ways—the lunch table, the hallway greetings, even the way people treat me in the hall. People at Preston seem aware that I’ve suddenly leveled up on the popularity scale, but Emory is my brother. Why wouldn’t I climb a few rungs?
But this…?
I stare at the tight black T-shirt with a winking Devil on the back, eyes descending to the skin-tight, painted-on jeans that are leaving none of my curves to the imagination. Aubrey dug through my closet last night and pulled them out herself. I’ve knotted the shirt as she directed, which shows part of my stomach, including a small sliver of my scar. It’s something I never show. Ever. But the only person I care about has already seen it.
Kissed it.
Somehow, it just doesn’t feel as ugly as it used to.
I tie a red, glittery ribbon in my ponytail and slide on a pair of red sneakers. It’s a concession I know the rest of girls made for me. Red, ultra-high-heeled boots were floated briefly as an idea, but instantly shot down in favor of something flat, comfortable, and easy to walk in. Afton barely gave me time to feel bad about it, explaining that it’d look amazing, but none of them want to lug ten pounds of books across campus in heels all day, anyway.
She probably has a point.
The self-consciousness doesn’t kick in until Emory does a double take as I walk across the driveway. “What the hell are you wearing?"
I cross my arms over my stomach, but then drop them awkwardly at my sides. “It’s twin day. This is how all the Playthings are dressing.” I fight the urge to run back inside. “Aubrey picked out the jeans herself.”
“That’s not—” He stares at me like I’m an alien. “That’s not appropriate!”
“Oh, really.” I prop my hands on my hips, forgetting my shyness. “Would you tell Aubrey that? Or Afton? Any of the other girls?”
“The other girls aren’t my sister!”
We stare obstinately at one another, caught in a power struggle.
A door slams from Reyn’s house.
“What’s up?” Reyn asks, rounding the bed of the truck. When I look up, he’s frozen in place, those green eyes drinking me in. Swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobs. “Oh, uh.”
“Emory is horrified at my outfit.” I raise my arms, challenging, “What do you think?”
“I think, uh,” His eyes dart to my brother’s and he rubs the back of his neck. He shrugs off his letterman’s jacket and holds it out. “I think that maybe you should wear this. As a compromise.”
The jacket is new and smells strongly of leather. There’s a hint