Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,56

energy on mentally killing them one by one.

Finally, as the bell to lunch period rang, I was put out of my misery and finally able to see the result of my takedown.

Lola, Sophie, Maddy, and Francis were already sitting at the table, the girls’ legs crossed primly and Francis’s posture lazy as he leaned back in his chair, one hand on the table and the other perched over the back of Lola’s seat.

“Sit down,” Sophie said—mostly to Will—as we approached the table. She upturned her nose in my direction before continuing. “We need to talk.”

I pushed my nerves aside and pulled out a chair.

“What’s going on with Zach?” William asked.

“Well, I for one had no idea he was screwing that loser,” Francis said with a snort.

“It was obvious he was keeping something a secret,” Maddy countered.

“I thought it was some dude from Richmond. But it makes sense. He seemed to have something against that kid,” Lola said.

I looked to William, hoping it’d help remind him that this exposé was only for good.

“Whoever did it clearly had some beef with him,” Maddy said. “Maybe even us.”

I carefully assessed each of their faces.

“Oh, come on, it was probably Max himself. You guys heard what he did at the party,” Francis said.

“True,” Sophie said with a sigh. “My point is, it falls back on all of us. If we stand up for him, we look bad. They’ve made him into an asshole, and I don’t want that bringing us down either. If we look bad, then people talk. A lot. We can’t get involved in his scandal.”

My satisfaction began to falter. Wasn’t all of Level One meant to feel this? Wasn’t it meant to make them scared?

“You’re right,” Lola said.

“We have to disown him, just like everyone else,” Francis concluded.

Just to keep their reputation.

On cue, the cafeteria door opened to reveal Zach with his lunch tray. I watched as the room fell quiet, faces turning toward him. Some glared. Some chuckled.

He looked toward Level One. His clique. His friends. And when he saw their unwelcoming gazes in return, he turned and retreated.

Zachary Plympton could be crossed off my list.

At lunchtime the following day, Maddy took William’s seat beside me before he could sit down, earning a suspicious look from him before he sat down on the other side of her. His jaw was tight. Being dropped from the team was still plaguing him. He’d been pissed off all day.

“So, Chloe,” Maddy said, her eyes focused on pouring dressing over her salad. She looked as polished as always, hair neatly combed into a scrunchie. It was all as if Zach had never existed at this table at all. “I was thinking this weekend we could hang out. Just the two of us?”

I hesitated for a moment, my gaze instantly falling on where the ice queen Sophie chatted with Lola. “Uh, I’m not sure . . . Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She laughed, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder.

I stalled by stirring my coffee intently for a split second. It was risky, but if Maddy wanted to hang out with me, then maybe she’d share more secrets that could help me tick more names off my list. “Okay.”

“Excellent,” she said, her eyes lighting up in glee. “You’ll need a fake ID.”

Nineteen

Mon,

I have a confession. I don’t think you ever knew that I knew, but there was one secret I kept from you.

It was after you’d returned from a party. You were so drunk I don’t even think you were aware of where you were, but you called me and asked me to come over. You still thought I was the kind of friend you could call at 3 a.m., even if at school you wouldn’t speak to me anymore.

You told me everything. About how you slept with Francis Rutherford.

About how you knew it was only a matter of time before Lola found out and made you pay.

Love, Chloe

ON FRIDAY MORNING, Maddy passed me a yellow envelope. How she was so well acquainted with someone that she could have a fake ID delivered within three days had me in awe.

I waited until after lunch to open it, worried a teacher might see and confiscate it. Shielded by the door of my locker, I tore it open and the plastic card fell into my palm. Chloe Whittaker. Born in 1999. Twenty-one years of age. I’d taken the picture against my wall on a self-timer. I looked cold, my lips pressed into a thin line, my eyes coated in liner, daring