“Did I just …” Miranda starts, and I grimace, noticing that Andrew’s also staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Did you just kiss Zayd Kaiser?”
“I … have no idea,” I whisper, but of course, I do. I can still feel the tip of his tongue, scalding as it slid against my own. “He’s drunk off his ass,” I add, but Miranda’s still staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“True,” she hedges, shrugging her thin shoulders. “Whatever. He does that to everyone when he’s plastered. I once saw him kiss John Hannibal on the lips after too many beers. Then they got into a fistfight and Tristan had to break them up.”
My heart sinks a bit, but I push the feeling away. Zayd didn’t kiss me because he has any feelings toward me. It’s just something he does when he’s drunk. Obviously. I mean, we don’t even get along. I didn’t even want to kiss him.
Miranda, Andrew, and I get sodas from the cooler next to the parking lot and carry them into the cemetery. Someone’s lit candles, and there’s a group gathered around the base of one of the graves. Tristan Vanderbilt sits on top of it with a girl in his lap, one arm around her waist, the other stroking her knee.
He’s telling a ghost story of some sort, his voice so low that I can’t quite make it out. We avoid their little group, which includes Harper and Becky, and meander through the rest of the graveyard, fingers brushing across the worn tops of headstones as we read off names and dates.
“Boo,” Creed drawls when we come around a corner and find him sitting with a few other students, a joint in his hand. He doesn’t even bother to hide it as I stare at him, lifting it to his lips and taking a drag. His blue eyes are narrowed to slits as he frowns at me before switching his attention to Miranda. “You aren’t getting into any trouble, are you?” he asks, and she gapes at him.
“Asks he who has a beer in one hand and a joint in the other? Are you kidding me?” Miranda puffs out her chest as her brother comes to stand beside her, glancing first at Andrew and then back at me again. “Don’t get all preachy on me, Creed. You’re my twin, not my older brother.”
“So that means I can’t protect you?” he asks, still looking at me. “Why are you even hanging out with this girl? Nobody likes it. If it weren’t for me, you’d be committing social suicide.” He hands the joint over to Andrew, and after a split-second of hesitation, he takes it, moving away from Miranda and me to sit with his friends. He gives me an apologetic sort of look, but it’s okay, I understand.
“She’s a good person, unlike some of the other people in this school.” Miranda turns to leave and Creed grabs her arm. When she snaps a look over her shoulder, his face hardens but he lets go. “I bet Mom would agree with me. If she had a choice, she’d swap Marnye for you in a heartbeat.” The edge of Creed’s mouth lifts up in a snarl, but he doesn’t say anything. “Do your new friends know you used to be bullied when we lived in Grenadine Heights? I’d think you, at least, would know better.”
My eyes widen as Creed grits his teeth, but then Miranda’s grabbing my arm and dragging me away from their little group.
“Andrew, fucking traitor,” she grumbles as we head for the exit. I know I shouldn’t look back as we leave, but I do, catching Tristan’s gray gaze on me. He tracks me as I go, even as he’s got a girl straddling his lap, his hands cupping her ass.
Gross.
In their natural element, these guys are even worse than they are at school.
The rest of the night, I make it a priority to avoid them. Miranda helps, showing me where to find extra pumpkins, knives, and candles. We carve jack-o-lanterns, sip apple cider, and eat miniature candy bars from an orange bowl. As long as I steer clear of the Idols, everything is fine.
Reaching up to touch what’s left of my hair, I cringe.
Too bad that’s not an option most days.
If I want to stay here, I’m going to have to fight for my own space.
I just hope it’s a fight I can actually win.The next day, I take the off-campus pass Ms. Felton gave me, have one of the academy’s cars take me into town, and buy a box of rose gold hair dye. Since the shower I took this morning washed most of the blood-red out, it takes just fine, and I find that when I look in the mirror … I actually like it.
