The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,115
never talk to me again, but she may talk to you. I don’t know. The thing is, someone texted her pictures of us before we arrived at Stella’s.”
I search my brain for what he could possibly be talking about but come up with nothing. “What pictures?”
Parker looks just as baffled. “I have no idea who took them, but some were from Lily’s party when we were on the beach, and others were of us in front of Blackwood. They could easily be misinterpreted. And of course, that’s what she did. She was convinced we’d betrayed her before she even saw us.”
“And you don’t know who sent them?”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s why I’m worried. Someone’s following you—or us. And I think you know who. Even if it’s not him, it’s someone from Thorne Industries.”
“That’s so messed up,” I say, disturbed more than I’m showing. “Is Nina okay?”
“Yeah. The blade didn’t do any major damage. She’s sore but healing.” Parker rubs the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry, Lana.”
I nod, silently accepting his apology. But it’s not his idiocy that’s fully to blame. Nina was fueled before we arrived.
It still doesn’t explain why she and Tori were so eager to accept what they saw without giving me a chance to explain. Maybe in time they’ll see it for what it is, but it may already be too late.
“Parker, are you ready?” Lily calls from the door. When she sees we’re done talking, she takes it as an invitation to join us. “Hey, Lana. Are you ready for the Ball on Friday? I’m so excited.”
“You’re going?” I ask in surprise.
“Yeah. I’m going with a new guy at Blackwood. I met him earlier this summer. He came to a few of my parties, and I’d see him at Stefan’s. He doesn’t know many people, so we’re going as friends.”
“Oh,” I answer, trying to decide how I feel about her being there. Not that I have a choice or that it should matter. But my stomach still churns regardless. Maybe because I don’t want to worry about another psycho at the dance. Who knows if she’s over her issues with me, no matter what her dazzling smile and sparkling eyes say. She fooled me before—I won’t trust her again. “Yeah, the school is insane right now. They shut down access to the Court this morning so they can finish decorating. I’ve never seen anything like it; it’s like they’re building a set for a movie.”
“Basically,” Lily says, glowing. “You’re going to be amazed. It’s like the Met Gala of private schools.”
“Great,” I reply unenthusiastically.
“Are you dressing up?” Lily asks Parker.
My eyes widen. Was not expecting her to ask him that question.
“Yeah,” Parker responds, then explains to me when he registers my shocked expression, “Isaac asked me to chaperone with him.”
“You?” I laugh. “You’re kidding.”
Parker’s cheeks redden. “I can be responsible. There’s more to me than you know.”
“I guess,” I say, unconvinced.
“Well, we should go, so we don’t miss our court time. See you Friday, Lana,” Lily says, spinning on her heels and prancing back to the house.
“You won’t even know I’m there,” Parker promises, following after her.
“Is it safe to come out now?” Kaely calls from the sliding door next to the hot tub.
I laugh. “Yes.”
Lance exits the main door, trying to read my face. “Was he a dick?”
I shake my head. “No, he was fine. But I can’t believe he’s chaperoning the dance. Who let that happen?”
“I know, right?” Lance chuckles. “But he’s bringing booze, so I can’t complain.”
“Of course he is,” I mutter. “I have to change. Meet you down at the water?”
I should’ve entered by the hot tub. I have no idea what I was thinking, walking back through the kitchen entrance. Olivia is sitting on a stool, talking on the phone. She smiles at me before I can grab my tote and slip downstairs.
“Hold on, Faye. Lana’s right here,” Olivia says into her cell phone. “Lana, your mother would like to speak with you.”
I stare at the phone in her hand, knowing this isn’t a coincidence. She probably called her while I was outside. Not hiding my displeasure, I take the phone from her.
“Hi, Mom.” My voice is flat, devoid of emotion. I leave Olivia in the kitchen and wander into the living room, not that it provides much privacy. But I’m sure whatever I say will be repeated back to Olivia anyway.
“Hi, Lana. I’ve been trying to reach you,” my mother says pleasantly.