they’d be if they knew, and it makes me want to crawl into a hole and die there.
But despite this.
Despite everything.
I can’t stop thinking about Heston’s dick.
And god, it was good dick. Fantastic dick. The kind of dick Victorian poets get their tits out to write about. It’s not fair that such good dick belongs to someone as contemptible as Heston Wilcox.
But I can’t tell her that. They’d have my ass committed.
Again.
“Swim was…embarrassing,” I offer. “Heston is a jerk, and God knows he isn’t going to make this easy on either of us, but I actually think I might survive. He’s weirdly different once class starts.”
“Different how?” she asks, expression skeptical.
I think about this, humming. “Very…to-the-point. Focused.” Even though he clearly can’t help the occasional crude remark, Micha at least seemed to relax pretty quickly once Heston ignored the one-piece. “I think maybe he’s taking it seriously. Or at least as seriously as Heston could take anything.” Caroline looks doubtful and I can’t blame her.
“But you have been crying,” she notes, and I curse my dumb complexion. My nose always gets neon-red when I’ve been crying, and there’s no covering it up.
“It’s nothing,” I insist, eyes rolling. “PMS and hallway chatter. Complete overreaction.”
Caroline gives me a look that’s a bit too full of pity for my liking. I’m guessing she hasn’t missed the marked increase in the whispers going around about me.
A moment later we both look toward the door and the sound of Vandy’s awkward shuffle inside. She glances around at the empty room and says, “Well, this feels weird.”
“Just the three of us?” Caroline asks, taking her normal seat. “Yeah, there’s a significant lack of testosterone.”
God, tell me about it.
Vandy also sits in one of the empty chairs and nods at the paper in my hand. “What’s that?”
“A note from someone—whoever’s running this show.” I read it out loud, showing her the memory card, and then sit across from them, pulling out a small notebook. “I guess we need to pick a bunch of new Devils. Any nominations?”
“Well, if we’re going on legacy, Carter is a sophomore.” Carter is Caroline’s brother. He plays soccer and is pretty popular. Less nerdy than Caroline, but also less interesting, in my opinion.
I write his name down, but muse, “You now, there’s nothing in here about there even needing to be male Devils.”
Caroline looks thoughtful. “You’re thinking we should go all Playthings?”
“That would definitely be interesting.” We all share a devious smile, but I just as quickly admit, “I really want to nominate Micha Adams, though.”
“Oh!” Vandy says, clapping excitedly. “I love Micha! Definitely a yes from me. And hey, he’s not really like…a guy-guy.”
“But he’s also not a girl-girl,” Caroline adds. “Anyway, guys can come in handy, right? Remember the rites?”
“Good point.” Being marked in the Stairway by another girl—or Micha—wouldn’t be terrible or anything, but the breaking-and-entering, the pranks, the element of protection…
Caroline echoes my thoughts, “Some of that brute jock strength might be useful.”
“You’re right,” I concede, giving up on the dream. Nodding, I add his name to the list. “We can just let Micha choose what he wants to be; Devil or Plaything.”
“What about that new guy, Ozzy?” Vandy asks, face pensive.
Caroline twirls one of her French-braided pigtails, lips curving into a shy smile. “He’s, like, pretty cute, right?”
I give her a look. In all my time here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Caroline express an interest in anyone. Now she’s got the shy smile going on, ducking her head at my raised eyebrow. “Hell yeah, he’s cute.”
Vandy goes on, “I know he’s the headmaster’s son but, maybe that could come in handy?”
“Maybe,” I agree, tapping my pen on my chin. “Let’s find out a little more about him. He could be a narc.”
Caroline’s smile falls, but she nods. “I cannot risk any kind of drama this year. Not with college applications coming up. My mom is breathing down my neck about early admissions and the last thing I need is a disciplinary action just because we invited the wrong person in.” Look at her, not thinking with her vag. Respectable.
Teach me your ways.
“Everyone will be thoroughly vetted,” I assure her. “Anyone else? We need a couple more people.” We spend the next few minutes tossing around names. Buck Smith is one. Gus Meyers and Peter Norton. Caroline suggests Fiona and Vandy balks.
“Are you kidding me? She and Sydney were thick as thieves.”
“Well,” I say, giving her a look, “so were you at one point. She is