The Ivies - Alexa Donne Page 0,17

me to grab some chips. “Why are you by yourself?”

“No reason, why?”

“Hey, it wasn’t an accusation. Though it is odd to see you without your friends.”

I feel a pang of resentment. I am capable of operating alone. “What are you doing here?” I flip it back on him.

“I live here, remember? I’m always invited to parties as an anti-snitch measure.” I raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “Everyone assumes that because I’m Canadian I’m a Goody Two-shoes.”

“Let me guess—you’re hiding some deep, dark secret that’ll shock us all? Some dastardly criminal enterprise?”

Ethan chuckles awkwardly. “I’m not that interesting,” he says, humoring me.

“That’s not true. Your dad’s an ambassador, and your mom works for MSNBC. That’s pretty cool.”

“You writing my biography?” Ethan’s eyes glint with amusement, but I feel my cheeks heat. Did I just blow my crush cover? I shrug it off, pouring myself another drink. Screw my two-drink limit. I’m fucking stressed. But I smile at Ethan, and we clink our drinks together in a cheers.

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people,” I say, attempting a save. “We’re journalists, remember?”

“Calm down, Ronan Farrow. I think we have to go to j-school before we’re really journalists. The Ledger doesn’t count.”

“Is that what you’re gonna study at Toronto?” I ask. “Do they have journalism schools in Canada?”

“Technically, you can major in anything and become a journalist. My mom studied economics. And I don’t know what I want to do yet. I like classics, poli-sci, maybe even sociology.”

My vision goes momentarily white. Maybe it’s the long draw of vodka cran I just took, or maybe it’s the cold, bitter fuel of my ambition, but for a second I hate Ethan. He doesn’t even care about becoming a journalist. Why did he make me fight him for the editor position? For what? Avery had to bribe the outgoing editor, Stina Perez, to get her to vote in my favor, which in turn made me owe Avery. Sure, in the end it didn’t matter, because Vasquez overwrote Stina to split the position, but still.

“Livvy, have you seen Emma?” Tyler appears from behind us, eyes heavy lidded and sweat on his brow. He smells like crisp night air and weed. It snaps me out of my rage haze.

“She’s in the lounge,” I reply, choosing not to comment on his using my nickname. It’s too familiar for him. “Let’s go find her.” I suck down the rest of my drink, then heave myself up and off the barstool with a wave to Ethan.

That’s when the screaming starts. Wild, high-pitched cries rise over the rest of the party sounds. Enough people stop talking for us to hear “YOU BITCH!” echo into the kitchen.

There’s no mistaking that voice. It’s Avery’s.

I beat Tyler to the scene by a few seconds, my bony-as-shit elbows finally coming in handy as I’m able to push through the semicircle of onlookers enjoying the fight. Avery’s half-on-top of Emma, who is crouched over, trying to protect her head and face from Avery’s freshly manicured, talon-like nails. Emma gets in a good jab to Aves’s stomach, but Avery retaliates with a swift kick to the backs of Emma’s knees.

Tyler falls in beside me, panting, eyes now alert. We give each other a short nod before rushing forward. He takes Avery, and I go for Emma.

Tyler wrests Avery away, lifting her by the torso up and off Emma, who falls forward into my waiting arms. Feistier than I gave her credit for, Emma twirls in my embrace, fists flying in the direction of Avery’s flailing limbs, but they don’t connect.

“Hey, stop it!” I shout in Emma’s ear. “Both of you!”

Emma’s gone limp now. I can hear her sobbing into my shoulder.

“Why can’t she just be happy for me for once?” she wails.

“You stole my spot, you bitch!” Avery retorts. Tyler’s barely holding on to her now, but I can see she’s accepted defeat. The physical portion of the fight is done.

A few of the lookie-loos snigger, and then the whispers start. Avery turns, shooting daggers with her eyes. “Yeah, you fuckers, I didn’t get into Harvard. You happy?”

“YES!” someone shouts from the back, setting off laughter and a few gasps.

For a second, I think Avery’s going to launch herself into the crowd, root out the culprit, and flog them. Instead, she narrows in on Emma.

“How could you? You’re supposed to be my friend. There are rules. One school per girl, so this very thing doesn’t happen! You. Took. My. SPOT!”

“Avery, I