Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,50

noticed my slipup. He pulled me into a hug, the groove of his neck so comfortable against my cheek. You make me weak. So weak. And I didn’t understand why.

Too soon, our embrace ended. He gave me one more smile before making his way back across the lawn.

As I unlocked the door and let myself in, I realized I was still wearing his jacket.

Stage Six

Collection

Eighteen

Dear Monica,

Let’s be honest, you were always pretty obsessed with your appearance. More so than me, at least. You never saw how perfect you were, there was always something to point out in the mirror or comment on when you tried on clothes. I think I must have told you how good you looked at least a thousand times.

Now I see why. It’s such a superficial world at Arlington. Your value comes from how much attention your social media posts get, how many faces turn to check you out in the hall.

It’s enough to make anyone’s self-esteem crumple. Even those as strong as you. What chance do I have?

Love, Chloe

ON SATURDAY I sat cross-legged, my body comfortably wrapped in cotton pajamas and an old fluffy sweater with bobbles on its drawstrings. Even after showering, eating, washing my mouth a million times, and resting, I still felt awful. It was like someone was running their nails down chalkboards on the inside of my skull, and my throat was a ragged trail of broken glass.

In front of me, on my laptop, was a newly developed list of all the things I could dig up on Desmond the photographer. It was time to collect tangible evidence that I could use. With my precarious status on Level One, I needed to move quickly.

After a sleepless night—and a lot of pondering—one problem became strikingly clear to me, one that I hadn’t anticipated. My personal relationship with William Bishop.

I was good at planning. Well, at least I thought I was. I’d researched almost everything, from the correct pronunciation of fashion brands to each social media account controlled by Level One and their associates. But there was one thing I hadn’t planned for.

How could I have known, having no prior experience with boys, that putting myself in an intimate relationship—even a fake one—would have an effect on me physically?

And no, I didn’t love William. In fact, it could have been anyone. Just someone to bring out the teenage girl within me, who I currently wanted to strangle with the sleeve of William Bishop’s jacket, hanging on the back of my desk chair.

I hated being out of control, and that’s how I was starting to feel around him. As much as I wanted to blame it on alcohol, something about last night brought forward feelings that weren’t going away in the light of day. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was awful. And that was without even factoring in his relationship with Lola.

Pushing thoughts of him to the far end of my mind—which wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped—I concentrated on the task at hand.

Things I may be able to use to take down Level One.

Zach’s scandalous Level Four boyfriend. Well, that one was all prepared and ready to go, the picture’s presence practically burning a hole in my phone, as well as the backed-up copies on my computer. I’d edited the photographs to make sure their identities were undeniable, and the stance I’d captured them in led only to one conclusion. A scandal.

When to unleash it? I wasn’t sure. I’d hoped to gather as much intel as possible, taking down the group all at once, but I felt restless. I felt vengeful. Especially after Sophie’s words at the party. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to knock down an easy target as a warm-up for the big finale.

Maddy’s affair with Francis. Exposing that would be gold. It was one thing for Lola to know, but the whole school? Although, so far, apart from an overheard conversation in the toilets, I hadn’t found anything solid. It was valuable, but I needed evidence. Something that made Francis look really bad, and preferably something that could be spread fast. A photo, maybe. Something someone could still find from a Google search in twenty years.

But what about Maddy? Why did the thought of destroying her reputation bring me a pang of guilt? Maybe because she’d been nothing but nice to me.

She’s the one sleeping with Francis, I reminded myself. And then there was everything she did to Monica.

That’s who this was for, after all.

Lola and William. I wrote