Bad, Bad Bluebloods(Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,60

Are you going to blame Tristan, Creed, and Zayd for what you did?” Zack shakes his head, reaching up to run his palm over his hair. His shirt is unbuttoned now, and he’s rolled his slacks up to his knees. Seeing his interactions with his mother, it’s clear he wore the outfit to please her. It’s kind of cute actually, to get this little snippet of his life that shows he cares. It makes this very clear distinction in my mind between Zack and Creed.

Creed doesn’t care if he upsets his family or not. Well, I mean he cares, but yet he does it anyway. It’s so frustrating to watch.

“No. I take full responsibility for my actions.” Zack sighs again, like he’s suddenly so tired. “But you’ve seen them: they’re monsters. All three of them. Honestly, Marnye, take your revenge and then run. You won’t see any remorse from them.”

“I’m not expecting any,” I admit, looking at the curving maze of gardens that makes up Zack’s backyard. Well, one of his backyards I guess, considering I’ve already seen three of his family’s houses: this one, the lake house from last year, and the place he used to live when he attended LBMS. I wonder why his grandfather chose to cut his family off in the first place … and what spurred him to give it all back? “That’s not the point of all of this. Their whole lives, they’ve gotten away with whatever they wanted. The rest of their lives, they probably will, too. For this one, tiny blip on their timeline, I want them to know what it feels like. If it stops them from victimizing one person, then it’s worth it.”

“And that’s it?” Zack asks, voice gently probing, but not pushing. “It has nothing to do with the fact that they broke your heart?”

I purse my lips tight and dig my nails into the cement edge of the pool.

“If it does, it’s none of your business,” I tell him, my voice rough. He turns away sharply, and we sit there in silence for several minutes, the water lapping at our bare legs.

“We don’t deserve you,” Zack growls finally, pushing away from the edge of the pool. “Not a single one of us. Remember that, Marnye.” He turns and pads away with wet feet.

I sit there staring at my reflection until Charlie comes to get me, wondering about my own motivations.

Wondering if my broken glass heart isn’t still making me bleed.

After break, school starts off at a run and doesn’t slow down. I have so little downtime that my revenge plans come to a brief halt while I catch up on my studies, cheer team practices, and orchestra rehearsals. Zack has started training for track and field in February, and Miranda is off in la-la land with Jessie. They are now officially dating. I’m excited for them, but sometimes I catch Miranda gazing off into the distance like she’s daydreaming about someone else.

Uh-oh.

My tutoring activities with Creed continue, and the school’s so impressed with my ‘resilience’ (as they’ve called it), that I’ve been drafted into being a student mentor. Basically, I’m there to help students who are having issues with bullying, or help guide first-years who are struggling. Of course, nobody ever signs up to work with me. I still get credit for it though, so that’s fine.

During the end of our first week back, I strike gold by pure accident.

I’m on my way from my dorm—somebody’s scratched the word Brothel into the door yet again—to the mixed media room to practice some songs for the winter concert. When I get there, however, the room is occupied by Zayd and his cronies.

His howling laughter echoes out into the hall as I pause and glance in. Becky is all over him, making my stomach turn as she nuzzles up against him. She’s changed out of her uniform into a pink tank with no bra, and she’s pressing her chest against his. I wonder if they’ve had sex? I figure they probably have, and my stomach twists in disgusts.

I end up clutching a fist against my chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of my heart.

Did I … get my heart broken by Zayd?

It certainly feels that way, watching him laugh and joke with his friends. When he presses a flat kiss to Becky’s mouth, a sour taste rises in the back of my throat. His hair is now dyed a pale blue with dark roots, and his makeup is stage-dark, like he’s