hope you’re a damn good actor.”
I shrugged. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
“This isn’t a joke. I’m putting a lot on the line here.”
“What, your cozy little spot with the popular kids?” I asked. The look he sent me in return gave me the chills. “You’re rich and good-looking. You were born into that spot. They won’t take it from you.”
I tried to hide the flush that washed over me from my words. Did I seriously just tell him he was good-looking? Like he even needed the ego boost.
“Here’s a question, then,” he said. “If all it takes is to be pretty and rich, why aren’t you already up there? Your family is ridiculously wealthy.”
“Because I didn’t want to be up there.”
“You choose to be invisible,” he clarified. “You know how much damage they can do. I don’t want to be on their bad side because you screw me over.”
I pressed my lips together tightly. “I’ll do my best.”
William gave me a guarded look. “I’ll take you home.”
The drive home was silent, giving me time to mull over the plan. As much as I hated to admit it, it seemed ideal. An easy way in, and an easy way out. I could only hope it’d give me the access I needed to truly expose them.
As I unclipped my seat belt and opened the door of William’s idling car, I gave him one last glance.
“So we have a deal?”
He gave a small nod. “This starts tomorrow.”
Stage Three
Initiation
Four
Dear Monica,
How stupid that we once thought that having it all meant a Level One boyfriend and a car. Life seemed so simple back then. Anyway, fast-forward a few years and I have both.
Ha, got you. I’m just kidding. Half kidding. I have a car. You know that already, though. The Level One boyfriend is just a ruse. I’m telling you first before it’s all over Instagram. William Bishop isn’t my boyfriend. If he was, you’d be the first to know.
After all, we had a pact, right? No secrets.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.
Love, Chloe
IF YOU’D TOLD me last year that I’d be spending my Monday-morning free period balancing on the toilet seat in an out-of-order stall, I would have snorted in laughter.
But a lot had changed since last year.
After class this morning, I’d heard Sophie Rutherford behind me in the hallway by her locker. Her voice seemed to be on its own unique frequency, making it easy to overhear. Of course, I was all ears. She’d asked Lola to meet her in the girls’ toilets after the next period. She needed to tell her something.
Lola Davenport was the sun to Arlington’s solar system, Sophie orbiting as a close second-in-command. With raven hair and sweet wide eyes that drew adoration with their gaze, Lola had the school wrapped around her little finger. She was easily likable.
But her best friend, Sophie, with ice-cold Rutherford genes and a default resting bitch face, was one indicator that Lola wasn’t as nice as she seemed.
I decided to duck out of class early by faking a headache so I could stake out the girls’ bathroom in the main building. I made a scrappy out of order sign on the back of one of the many anti-drinking posters that plastered the corridor so I wouldn’t be busted spying, before locking myself in the stall. Now all I had to do was wait.
And God, they were taking forever.
My knees were beginning to hurt. Let me tell you, balancing on a toilet was not something you want to do in heeled boots. If they didn’t hurry, I’d have to give up. And if they turned up to talk about lipsticks for twenty minutes, I was going to kill someone.
I was contemplating whether my legs would go numb after a while, or whether I’d be better off amputating them altogether, when the door swung open.
“Jesus, I am sick of having biology this early on a Monday.” Lola sighed dramatically. I heard the thud of her leather bag being plonked on the sink.
“Hey, at least it’s Mr. Hammond,” Sophie’s voice responded. I heard the pop of a lip-gloss bottle opening. “There are worse ways to start your week.”
The door opened again, and the intruder’s footsteps clicked across the tile toward the stalls, making me panic for a second before they entered the stall beside me. Lola and Sophie fell into silence, no doubt waiting to continue their session when the intruder was gone.
When she left after an excruciating three and a half minutes,