Bad, Bad Bluebloods(Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,18

to look at her, my mouth dropping open as I realize she snuck in while I was preoccupied with the boys. Her bookbag is held over one shoulder, her blue eyes hard, mouth set in a thin line.

Creed is standing behind her, frozen in the doorway with his eyes jumping from me to Tristan to Zack, and finally over to Miranda. His mouth curls down in a frown.

“My family has more money than yours, Tristan,” Miranda snaps, dropping her bag to her side as she waltzes into the room, just as much a Blueblood as the rest of them. Her eyes glitter with frustration. “And if I have to give Marnye every cent to bring you down, I will.”

“Creed, put a leash on your bitch of a sister,” Tristan drawls, waving his hand absently. Creed’s face tightens up, and I can see a muscle in his neck working as he tries to push back the rage. “If you don’t, then she’s out of the Inner Circle. I’m done with this crap.”

“Leave it, Tristan,” Creed hisses, taking a few steps forward. “Miranda is off-limits, period. I won’t fight about this again.” Mm. Creed versus Tristan. That’s going to be a useful tool.

“Then kick me out,” Miranda says, reaching under her shirt and pulling out a set of keys. I wonder what those are for and then remember the Gallery and the locked door. A special set of keys, just for the elite members of the school. She chucks them at Tristan’s chest, and just like with the necklace, he manages to catch these, too. “Good riddance.” She moves over to my table, stares Tristan dead in the face, and then hip bumps him out of the way while the Idol girls gasp and squeal like stuck pigs. Miranda grabs her menu, tosses her hair (or tries to anyway), and then looks across the table with a smile. “I have soooo much gossip to tell you,” she begins, and then I know for certain that things are going to be okay between us.

We have a lot of work to do, hard conversations to be had, but this is our new beginning.

I focus on my menu as Andrew moves into the room and takes the third seat. Zack moves for the fourth, but my hand lashes out, and I curl my fingers around the back of the chair.

“I’m not ready,” I tell him, and he nods. But then, of course, he takes up a table one over from us, watching and waiting.

“She’s eating in The Mess,” Zack says, lifting his eyes to look up at Tristan, and then Creed. Zayd comes in a moment later with Becky clinging to his arm like a leech. My blood goes cold at the sight, and I whip out my journal again, scribbling furiously in it. My eyes lift from the page to find Tristan’s gaze locked on me. He scowls and turns away, storming out of the dining hall and slamming the door behind him.

Zayd and Creed say nothing, moving past me to sit at the Bluebloods’ table in the corner.

I glance at Zack, and he gives me a small, private little smile that Miranda notices, sucking in a deep breath.

“You have so much to tell me,” she whispers, and I grin.

It’s good to have her back … even if I don’t trust her. Not yet anyway.

My room is much the same as it was last year with the exception of one thing: new locks on the door. Not that I think it’ll stop the Bluebloods completely, but it should buy me some extra time.

Miranda takes a spot on the end of my bed, and this strenuous silence falls between us. I bite my lip and lean my back against the door, searching for the right words to say.

“There’s so much I need to tell you,” she starts, taking the words right out of my mouth. Her blue eyes flick up to mine, and I hate that her gaze reminds me so much of Creed. I don’t want to think about Creed unless I’m thinking about how to destroy him. “First off: have you heard about Windsor York?”

My brows go up. The name isn’t familiar, so I shake my head, pushing off from the door and moving over to the fridge in the kitchenette for a pair of sodas. I toss one to Miranda as she grins big.

“He’s tenth in line for the throne, you know,” she continues, popping the top on her can and taking