In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,110

waves a Burberry Prep pennant flag at me when he sees me looking, and I smile.

Don’t think about how skinny he looks, I tell myself, because it was so important for Dad to see this moment that he came all the way down here, sick as he is. I won’t fuck that up for him.

My eyes drift back to the rest of my boys, and I wonder how much longer they’re going to be my boys for, after I tell them my final decision.

Zayd pumps his fist and then curves his hands around his mouth to shout encouragement. Creed lounges back in his chair, but he’s got on the smile of a cat who’s got the cream. Only, I’m pretty sure that I’m the cream in this scenario. Zack is last, but not because I’ve got any sort of ranking for the guys in my mind. How could I? It’s like apples to oranges comparison with them. Each one fills a different niche in my heart. And Zack Brooks, he’s like a snuggly teddy bear/bodyguard. Just … don’t tell him I think of him that way.

I finish my piece and accept the applause of the crowd before I move up to the podium to take the mic. It’s time to give my valedictorian speech. Good thing I’ve been practicing for this moment since I was twelve.

“Welcome, friends, family, and loved ones. On behalf of the students of Burberry Preparatory Academy, I want to welcome you here today to celebrate the end of an era.” I take a deep breath and lift my chin. I’m not reading from a card; I’ve practiced enough that I don’t need to. “For four years, the students of this school have fought tooth-and-nail to get where they are today. And now, on this gorgeous sunny California afternoon, we will all get what we deserve.” The students go nuts, but I’m pretty sure only my guys, Miranda, and Andrew get the hidden references in my speech.

I take up my allotted ten minute time slot with flowery words for the future, and then move down to take my place in the audience. Tristan is next, and I’m not surprised to see that he’s as talented a public speaker as he is everything else. His words are actually uplifting, and I find myself clapping like crazy along with everyone else.

While the junior orchestra takes up Pomp and Circumstance for the second time that day, Ms. Felton and a horde of academy staff including Mr. Castor, Mrs. Amberton, and Ms. Highland take up the stage and start calling students to collect their diplomas.

The order is entirely based on class ranking, just one last little barb to shame us all into doing our best. But I’ve fixed things so that Harper du Pont who, shockingly enough, got into the top ten percent of our class, is dead-last.

Dead. Last.

She’s fighting back a frown as she takes her diploma from Ms. Felton, shakes her hand, and starts off across the stage, pausing briefly in front of the massive Burberry Prep Academy crest background, so she can have her picture taken by the professional photographer that was hired for the occasion.

As soon as she stops there, smile white, red hair shining against the black of her gown, I pull my phone from my pocket, and I press a button.

The video screen that was used against me during first year comes down ahead of schedule on the makeshift stage, and then my masterpiece begins to play.

Every mean thing Harper has ever done that I’ve been able to catch on film, record in sound, or take a picture of is there. I had no trouble collecting even more damning pieces of evidence from the other students. Hey, I’m the queen of the school and Harper du Pont is just a bully.

“What the hell?” she asks, turning around as the awful footage begins to play. There’s her, in the woods berating girls at a party, slapping her supposed best friend Becky, screaming at John and Greg, and finally … there she is, trying to brand me with a hot iron in my dorm room.

God bless security cameras.

“Daddy, make it stop!” Harper screams as the footage just keeps rolling and rolling and rolling. There was so much choice stuff, I had to pick and choose what bits to use. Those were tough decisions to make. The crowd murmurs and gasps, whispers passing behind raised hands. The entire Infinity Club gets to see the du Pont princess at