are through the roof, and far too expensive for the average plebian to purchase a home.” Tristan lifts his chin triumphantly, like he’s done good, and I roll my eyes, and face palm.
“Please don’t call regular people plebeians in everyday conversation. At school, it’s just a term. In real life, it’s embarrassing.”
“It’s nice though,” Zayd says, this twisted, mangled mess of inked limbs on the seat next to me. “Seeing how the other side lives, you know? It’s not as bad as I thought.”
“The other side?” I ask with a small laugh, and he shrugs, looking politely chagrined.
“You know, like commoners. Peasants. Uh …” I give him a look and he stops, grinning brightly. “None of those?”
“How about you just practice saying people?” I suggest, and Zack smiles like he thinks he has a leg up on the others. Sure, he went to school at Lower Banks, so he’s got some street cred, but he also thought it was acceptable to pick a random girl and bring her to her knees for the sake of a bet. He almost killed me. That tells me he’s no better than the others: at least back then, he didn’t see the general populace as being worthy of the same respect as his peers.
“Why did you pick me?” I ask suddenly, and I notice Windsor exchanging a look with Zack. They’re friends now, I’ve noticed, more so than the other boys. All that time spent together during second year was good for them.
Zack Brooks looks back at me, and he doesn’t seem particularly happy about this thread of conversation.
“Can we go back to talking about railroad barons?” he whispers, but I just sit there and look at him. I want to know the truth, and I sense there’s something more to it than a random act of malice. When I don’t respond, Zack sighs and rakes his fingers through his shiny brunette hair. It’s much longer this year than it was last year, although still relatively short. “Marnye …” He glances over his shoulder in Ms. Felton’s direction, but I’m not about to get into details. She probably doesn’t even know what we’re talking about. “Fuck.”
“Language, Mr. Brooks,” she says without bothering to turn around.
Zack rolls his eyes at her, but then focuses his attention on me. Creed and Tristan watch him, this calculating sharpness to their gazes. Zayd looks uncomfortable, and Windsor looks like he already knows.
“It wasn’t you, in particular,” Zack says, looking at me with regret plastered on his face. “It was Adam Carmichael. Your mother’s married to him, isn’t she?”
The color drains from my face, and I sit forward on the seat.
“You picked me because of Adam Carmichael?” I ask, feeling nausea roll over me. Adam is the same guy that let my mother leave her young child at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. He’s scum, pure scum. And also the father to a sister I’ve never met.
“Not me,” Zack says with a long sigh. “Lizzie.”
“But why? Are the Waltons and the Carmichaels in some kind of feud?”
“Adam had an affair with Lizzie’s sister,” Tristan explains, his voice as cold and matter-of-fact as always. It’s just a mask, I know that now, but it’s a damn good one. “She was only eighteen at the time, and he was … in his forties, at the very least.” My stomach clenches with nausea. “Lizzie’s hated him ever since.”
“So she picked me because of him?” I ask, and Tristan nods.
“I have nothing to do with Adam; I’ve never even met him.” My mind is reeling right now, and I lean back into the leather seat next to Creed, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to process this.
“We had to pick someone,” Zack whispers, “and your sister, Isabella, she was too young. I’m sorry, Marnye. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“That’s a mark, Mr. Brooks,” Ms. Felton says as I close my eyes and lean my head against Creed’s shoulder until I fall asleep.
If the boys talk throughout the rest of the drive, I don’t hear it.
The entire second year class is staying at the Fairmont Hotel which is about a ten minute drive from the symphony, depending on traffic. It’s definitely a luxury hotel, that much is obvious from the moment I walk in the door. Charlie and I could never afford to stay in a place like this. Actually, we can’t afford to stay in the city at all. When we come to see the symphony, we drive home after.
“What the