Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,40

time in book exchanges and antique shops, the more I felt like I was escaping Arlington’s superficial world.

But even so, the kiss never fully escaped my mind.

I certainly wouldn’t go easy on William Bishop when it was time to take him down.

Monday came too soon. I was up earlier than usual, doing my makeup and trying to find a new jacket to match my plaid skirt and crisp shirt. Today, when I painted my lips with the color of a blooming rose, I wasn’t reminded of Monica or the countless times we’d played dress-up. Instead, I was reminded of the way my lips had pressed against William’s.

My first class was physics, and I took a detour past the populated corridors of campus, deciding to bypass my locker and keep my bag with me instead. The longer I could avoid William, the better.

But it turned out it was all for nothing. He was standing in front of my classroom, despite the fact that he didn’t even take physics.

And if that wasn’t unusual enough to spark speculation among onlookers, then the large bouquet of roses in his hands definitely was. If it wasn’t for the crowd of people slowly gathering around us, I was sure I wouldn’t hesitate to storm off fuming. Or shove his bouquet where it belonged.

But I couldn’t do that with an audience.

The whispers of girls beside me caught my attention as time seemed to slow around our little spectacle. He’s so gorgeous, I heard. Why isn’t she moving? What’s going on?

I knew I didn’t really have an option. Not with Monica at the forefront of my mind.

Spreading the most love-struck smile over my face, I took another step toward William’s outstretched arm, where the bouquet sat in all its blossoming glory.

It was heavier than it looked as I cradled it in my elbow, careful not to meet his eyes again. Instead I studied the roses. The deep green leaves framing them almost matched his gaze perfectly.

Aware of the onlookers surrounding us, I tried to bashfully head toward class without a word, but then he pulled something else from his pocket. A Tiffany’s box.

My cheeks reddened.

“I’m sorry,” William murmured, only audible between us.

“You think this will win me over?”

“No,” he replied. His gaze crossed the small crowd milling around us. “But it’ll win them over.”

I looked to the onlookers gawking at the roses in my arms. He was right. I gave him a glare that only he could see, before taking the box from him too.

“I need to get to class.”

“Look inside the box,” he said, pushing it into my free palm. “The flowers were for them. This is for you.”

When I’d finally settled in the safety of my desk, the roses lying on the windowsill beside me—still managing to capture attention as students turned in their seats to ogle them—I opened the small box in my lap. Inside, there was no sparkle of jewelry. Only a folded piece of paper.

Three twenty-five at the boys’ change rooms. Locker nine.

At lunch, the Level One table was alive with chatter about the weekend’s party. I was sitting next to Maddy, who was feigning annoyance with me for leaving the party without telling her. She, and everyone else, seemed to be oblivious to whatever happened between Lola and Francis, or even Lola and William, who sat side by side opposite me, reserved looks upon their faces.

I wondered what punishment Lola was concocting for me. I started brainstorming methods to win her over. The phone was one thing but I’d need to try to cozy up more than that if I wanted more intel. In between ideas, I watched William from the corner of my eye, wondering just what information he had waiting for me.

The salad in front of me was busy suffering a brutal stabbing from my fork when the Level One table fell quiet. I looked up to see what had captured their attention, and my heart dropped when I realized it was Stephanie Griffith.

She looked terrified as Principal Neal led her out of the cafeteria. I never saw Neal leave her office, not unless it was serious.

Sophie began snickering, and William turned toward the girls. “What did you do?”

“Oh, we didn’t do anything,” Lola said, a wicked glint in her eye. It made me squirm in my seat to see her address him directly. Was I really still squeamish about their affair? “I heard a rumor someone reported her for having some pretty damning photos on her phone. You know.