the day, and I could tell all of the Princes did too. But Adena managed to catch me alone later that afternoon, when I was sitting by a tree in the quad waiting for Leah to get out of her last final. She was missing her usual posse this time, and instead of even pretending I’d barged into her space, she invaded mine, shoving my backpack out of the way to kneel on the grass beside me.
Her voice was a low hiss in my ear, furious and dangerous.
“You really think your little boyfriends can protect you, Idaho trash? You think because you seduced the fucking Princes of Oak Park, that’ll keep you safe? It won’t. They can’t stop me.”
I jerked away. She had leaned so close to me I could feel her breath on the side of my face, and I hated it.
“Are you still that bitter about Mason dumping you?” I asked, my blood running hot in my veins. “What, Preston isn’t working out as a substitute? Is his dick that tiny?”
Her lips pressed into a line, and she stood quickly, scowling down at me. “Keep talking, trailer trash. ’Cause I’ll remember everything you say, and I’ll make you pay for every single one of them.”
Before I could respond, she turned and stalked off across the quad. I slowly pried open my clenched fists, staring at her retreating back.
Fucking hell.
I told the Princes about the encounter the next morning, and none of them seemed happy—although none of them seemed that surprised either. I certainly wasn’t. Adena hated me more than ever, and the stronger she and Preston got, the less concerned she seemed to be about any backlash from the Princes or the admins if she went after me.
It made me nervous. Enough so that I didn’t push back when the Princes starting hovering more than usual.
When I told Leah what Adena had been up to, she shook her head, her pixie face crinkling in a frown. “God, she’s such a fucking bitch. I mean, honestly, it’s probably a good thing the Princes have your back. Adena doesn’t fight fucking fair. And there aren’t many people in this school she’s scared of.”
But Adena must’ve been at least a little scared of the Princes, because for the next two days, she ignored me entirely. Preston and the rest of her squad did too, and I took advantage of the reprieve, focusing on getting through the rest of my finals. Even though I still hoped to get a call inviting me to join the Pacific Contemporary Ballet in L.A., I wanted to graduate from Oak Park with a good academic record. I wanted to go to a good college someday, even if it wasn’t right away.
My last final of the semester was on Friday—Calculus II. Math had never been my favorite subject, and I really hated Calculus, but I pulled out every scrap of knowledge in my head and left the room feeling reasonably confident.
My brain felt a little mushy, and wondered if I could talk Leah or the Princes into going to the beach with me. I wanted to stick my feet in the sand, listen to the waves, and not have to think for a while.
It was just before three when I stepped out of Craydon, trotted down the stairs—
And stopped.
A crowd of students peppered the quad, other kids who’d gotten released from their finals early. I’d been expecting that, since the semester was winding down.
But what had caught me by surprise was that none of them were moving.
Instead, they were clustered around lampposts and trees, reading the sheets of paper that’d been stuck to every available surface, or gathered in small clusters staring down at loose pages. As I stood at the base of the steps, a sheaf of papers was tossed from a top-floor window of Hammond Hall, the white rectangles falling in jagged slow motion as the air caught them.
I blinked, moving to pick up a piece of paper that already lay on the sidewalk several feet ahead of me. A buzz seemed to fill the air, like the thrum of a high-voltage wire, and I realized it was the voices of the students around me—whispering, murmuring, and talking excitedly.
Dread was already creeping up my spine as I stooped to grab the sheet, and as soon as I saw the handwriting on the photocopied page, my blood turned icy.
It was my handwriting.
Blown up to larger than life size, taken from a small black notebook and transferred