Empire High Elite (Empire High #2) - Ivy Smoak Page 0,90

a laugh. “It looks like it’s straight out of the 80s.”

I probably would have tried to cover my dress if Kennedy’s arm wasn’t still looped in mine. Kennedy tugged on that arm.

I knew what she wanted me to do. I needed to stand up to Isabella if this was ever going to stop. I tried to hold my head up high even though her jabs stung. “It was my mom’s.” They weren’t fighting words. And I had no idea why I thought something personal could work against a monster.

Isabella laughed. “You’re wearing a hand-me-down? Good God, you’re so pathetic.”

I looked down at my dress. It was beautiful, even if it was old. And Justin had said that vintage was in.

“And I bet those aren’t even real diamonds on your tiara?”

It seemed to be a rhetorical question, so I didn’t say a word.

“My dear sweet, ugly half-sister. Take off the crown you don’t deserve. And then do the world a favor and stay locked in your room tonight like the hideous ogre you are. No one wants you at the dance.”

“Isabella,” Mason said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No, I’m not nearly done…”

“You look fucking hot, Brooklyn,” he said. “And I know my brother is excited to see you at the dance.”

My cheeks flushed.

Isabella’s mouth was hanging open. Apparently she wasn’t used to being cut off mid-sentence. She was used to doing the cutting. “Who even invited you here, Mason?” Isabella spat.

“My date. Laci.” He pointed to one of Isabella’s minions.

“Freaking Laci,” Isabella said under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

I swore a few of Isabella’s other minions inched slightly away from the girl in question. Poor Laci.

“Well you can both get the hell out,” she said to Mason and Laci. “Talking to an ogre makes you an ogre.”

Mason leaned against one of the tables displaying a vase. Somehow his bulky frame didn’t knock it over. “You were literally just talking to her, Isabella. So doesn’t that make you an ogre too?”

Laci had the audacity to laugh.

Isabella took a deep breath, but it looked like her head was about to explode. “Semantics. None of this matters. Sissy, you aren’t going to the dance. Now be a dear and go back to your room. Now.”

“She’s not a dog,” Kennedy said.

“Right.” Isabella glared at her. “She’s not dirty and living in a cesspool. That’s you.”

“I’m gonna kill her…”

I grabbed Kennedy’s hand to stop her from storming down the stairs and doing God knows what to Isabella. Even though Isabella most certainly deserved it.

Isabella put her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You’re literally on a leash, Kennedy.”

Kennedy tried to lunge for her again, but I didn’t let go of her arm.

“It’s fine,” I said. “We’re just going to go back to my room. And we’ll leave after you’re done taking pictures down here.”

“No. You’re not going to the dance at all. Get it through your thick skull.”

“Why don’t you want me to come?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a reason, Isabella. Why are you so hellbent on torturing me? Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you? Can’t we please just start over? Or at least be civil?”

Her lips were pressed in a thin line so hard that I could barely see them.

“Is everything alright out here, princess?” Mr. Pruitt asked as he emerged from his study. “Or should I say queen?”

Isabella spun around. “Yes, Daddy. We were just having a bit of fun.” Her voice was laced with sugary sweetness.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Isabella beamed and adjusted the crown on top of her head. “Sissy was just telling me she felt ill. I’m worried about her. I think we should make her stay home.”

What the hell? She couldn’t lie her way into preventing me from going to homecoming. Could she?

Chapter 28

Saturday

Mr. Pruitt’s eyes traveled up the stairs to me. For a second, I thought he looked horrified. I was wearing a dress from the 80s. It wasn’t vintage. It was just old. I could practically feel his embarrassment. I just wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed of me or for me. But then he smiled. A real one. Way more genuine than I’d ever seen. “You’re breathtaking, Brooklyn.”

My dad thought I was beautiful. I wasn’t an ogre. I didn’t deserve to be locked in my room. He’d let me go to the dance.

Mr. Pruitt walked up the stairs, stopping one step below me. “She kept it all these years?” He reached out and touched the fabric.