Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,51

it, then tapped my pen against the notepad for a few moments before crossing it out. Not only would this bring down William, but I also knew the repercussions for Lola from Francis could be . . . awful. But then, after everything Lola had done to Monica, I just couldn’t let it go.

And William. I closed my eyes, fighting an internal battle for a moment before opening them. Focus, Chloe. He was on my list too.

I wrote it again.

Sophie’s secret boyfriend. Maybe. If I could find out who he was. I’d had almost no leads. Maybe it wasn’t even relevant. But God, I needed to take Sophie down. Not just for Monica, but for myself. Her comments last night rattled me, particularly after everything I’d changed about myself to be beautiful enough for Level One. She was evil.

New list: to-do list.

To do: find out who Sophie is sleeping with ASAP.

Use the games.

The cruel cards stacked in Lola’s little pouch. With enough supporting evidence, they were just another piece I could pin to Lola Davenport.

My phone vibrated beside me, making me jump. It was William.

I ran my tongue over my chapped lips. I wanted to ignore it, to take a break from our “relationship” and hopefully snuff out whatever weird attraction I felt for him. But something deep within me made me swipe the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you and it’s almost two in the afternoon,” he said. He almost sounded annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just . . .” My eyes grazed over the mess of lists in front of me. “Doing homework.”

“Seriously? You can do homework after last night?” he asked, a doubtful tone in his voice. “Anyway, just wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“Barely,” I said. Talking to him on the phone was easier. I wasn’t overwhelmed with his stupid emerald eyes.

“Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

He let out a breath. “I don’t know, about last night.”

I shook my head, before remembering he couldn’t see it. “No, I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay.” The line went silent. “I’ll see you Monday morning, then?”

“Eight o’clock?”

“On the dot.”

I pushed down the swell of contentment at the idea. I lifted my shoulder to support the phone and reluctantly added to the list.

Maybe Bishop’s blackmail.

As promised, William arrived at my house right on time on Monday morning. I had his jacket folded neatly in my hands, and I placed it onto the back seat as I climbed into his car. Ridding myself of the jacket was the first step to ridding him from my mind.

“Whittaker,” he said in greeting.

“Bishop,” I said with a nod. I straightened my skirt over my thighs and checked my lipstick in the drop-down mirror, consciously avoiding his gaze.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked after a few moments.

I’d tried to act like I was feeling fine, but the way I was fidgeting with the strap of my bag and restlessly tapping my foot must have given away my turbulent thoughts.

“I just—” I cut myself off, before composing myself. “I just can’t wait to do it. To take Level One down.”

“Level One?” William asked, frowning.

Oh, right. The Level system. I shook my head. “It’s nothing, just something Monica and I came up with to describe Arlington’s social system.”

“I’m intrigued,” he said, looking genuinely curious. He’d pulled into the school parking lot, now, but he cut the engine and turned to face me. “Enlighten me.”

I bit my lip. “We should get to class.”

“You’ve said it now,” he pushed.

I huffed, realizing that now that I’d piqued his interest I wasn’t going to get out of it. “Fine. We divided up the students into five levels. Level One is the elite, like you and Lola and Francis and the others. Level Two is your gigantic flock of admirers. Level Three is the people who don’t really care, but still hold a relatively good status. Level Four is the people who don’t fit in, and Level Five is younger kids and the people you hate.”

“Interesting,” he said. “I mean, it makes us sound like . . . I don’t know, celebrities.”

“To most of the student body, you are.”

“Seriously?” He looked doubtful.

I nodded, thinking of Claire and the dozen or so other students who’d tried to befriend me just for dating him.

“Huh.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Never thought about it like that.”

“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t have, considering you boys are only there to look pretty and pine over. It’s the girls who do the law enforcement and