The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,39

to keep letting Windsor mete out vigilante justice.

“I’m going to make a pot,” Wind mumbles, making himself busy in the kitchen. I think he has a hard time staying still, to be quite honest.

Miranda’s snuggled up in the corner of my bed, but she’s still being weird as hell. Unconsciously, I raise my fingers to my lips, and she notices, blushing like crazy and looking everywhere but at my face. Creed scowls, and turns away, too, crossing his arms over his chest as he slouches on the end of the bed.

Tristan is standing stiffly on the opposite side of the door from Myron, while Lizzie perches on a stool with Andrew beside her.

“Thanks for coming,” I say, exhaling and trying not to sound too formal. That’s my go-to thing when I get nervous: formality and historical facts. Right now, my instincts insist that I explain to the group why the floors in Tower One are made of chestnut but patched with mahogany (it’s because there was a chestnut blight that began in the early 1900s that effectively wiped the tree out, so it’s hard to come by).

“We need to hit this party hard,” Tristan begins, taking over naturally. He doesn’t even think about it; it’s just what he does. Closing my eyes, I sip the tea that Windsor made for me, and try to ground my emotions. I’ve never been the leader type. Really, if you think about it, I grew up alone and friendless, tortured in middle school, attacked in high school.

But I’m feeling kind of … bossy right now.

“This is about more than just the party,” I say, putting my cup and saucer aside. My back is pressed against Zack’s leg, and I have the strongest urge to lean back and cuddle him like I did that day after I was attacked in the pool. I shudder just thinking about the incident, but the snuggling with Zack after was nice … “We all just sort of jumped into this group out of necessity. Pretty much everyone here has unresolved issues with someone else.”

“Marnye,” Zack starts, but I wave my hand and stop him from talking, reaching into the drawer on my side table and pulling out my real journal—Creed’s facial expression tightens—which has the list inside of it, both the old one and the new one.

To start off, I hand it to Zack.

“First off,” I begin as I let my gaze scan the room. “There’s not going to be anymore awkwardness. There’s nothing wrong with expressing your feelings to someone, so long as you don’t expect or demand anything in return. We’re all still friends here”—there are a few snorts from Zack and Windsor but I ignore them—“and I’m … not going to choose anyone just yet.” I swallow hard and lift my chin, glancing briefly back at Zack, Miranda, and Creed behind me. “So let’s just keep going. Harper and her cronies are bullies, and we need to take the school back from them.”

“They aren’t the only bullies,” Miranda mumbles, but I forge on. Basically everyone in this room has been a bully at some point. Well, it’s not going to happen anymore, not on my watch.

Zack already knows about my revenge plans, and my rules, so he quickly passes the notebook to Miranda who glances briefly at it, and then hands it over to Creed. His lazy gaze sharpens up quickly as he scans the pages.

“What are you proposing?” Tristan asks, brow crinkling slightly as Windsor passes out teacups to Lizzie, Andrew, and then him, using the teapot to fill each one. He then offers up cream and sugar before moving onto Myron and Zack.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to make peace with each other. We’re going to at least try to be friends, and we’re going to follow my rules.” I pinch the notebook from Creed’s hands and start with rule number one, my eyes scanning the group one more time before I decide to add: “and no more lies. None. Lies are poison, and even if you think you’re protecting someone with one, you’re not. In the end, it always hurts worse when the truth comes out.”

Nobody says a damn word, but that’s okay, I’m ready.

“So, last year when I decided to take my revenge on you, I made a list …”

Harper's party is being held on a yacht, much like Tristan's party during first year when they burned that beautiful, beautiful book. I try not to think too hard about