The Idol boys, Tristan in particular, come to mind. He just surpassed me in rank, but it wouldn’t surprise me if—
There’s a sharp knock on the double doors, but whoever it is that’s on the other side doesn’t wait for confirmation. They swing inward, and Tristan Vanderbilt strolls in with Zayd Kaiser on one side, and Creed Cabot on the other.
“Boys,” Mr. Castor begins as they stroll up, Zayd on my left, Creed on my right. Tristan stands behind me and puts both of his hands on my shoulders. When he squeezes, a swarm of butterflies takes off in my belly.
“Vice Principal Castor,” Tristan begins, his voice cold and arrogant and full of disdain. It’s quite clear in the way he speaks to the man that he doesn’t respect him. “I’ve just been made aware of the accusations leveled at Miss Reed.”
“Mr. Vanderbilt, you know I can’t discuss the business of other students—”
Tristan halts the man’s words with a wave of his hand. With the other, he starts to massage my shoulder, and I almost melt in my chair. Zayd is grinning on my left, winking at me when I glance his way. Creed just looks bored and completely and utterly put out. If he were a cat, his tail would be flicking in irritation.
“I can name every student who came to you with a complaint,” Tristan continues, his voice like an inky night sky, endless and black but with a few stars here and there to brighten things up. “And I can tell you exactly how they got the assignments in question.” He reaches into the pocket of his academy jacket and pulls out a set of keys. “I found these on the floor in the chapel.” He tosses them over to Mr. Castor.
“You expect me to believe that?” Mr. Castor asks, and when I look back at him, Tristan has one brow cocked over his steel gray eyes.
“Believe it,” Creed drawls, yawning and rolling his shoulders. “We have a lot of influence in this school, or haven’t you noticed?” His blue eyes sharpen, and I’m reminded of his confrontation with Derrick. Only this time, it’s not Miranda he’s defending, it’s me.
A warmth suffuses my chest that I can’t put a name to. But it feels good. Really, really good.
“A lot of the other students are jealous of Marnye,” Zayd says, sliding his inked hands into the pockets of his slacks. “So they ganged up on her. We took care of it.” He tilts his head to the side, and reaches up to rake his fingers through his mint green hair, turning it into a sea of sharp spikes. “It won’t happen again.”
Creed smiles wickedly and for a moment there, I almost forget that he was the first one to try to go to the staff to get me in trouble. Is this all a game? Did they report me so they could save me? But no, what would be the point of that?
“We’ll be taking Marnye now. Punish the accusers however you want.” Creed turns to leave and Tristan drops his hands from my shoulders, offering me one to help me out of the chair. I take it cautiously, glancing back at Mr. Castor, but his mouth is flattened into a thin line and it doesn’t look like he’s going to protest.
“Let’s get out of here before he finds something else to bitch about,” Zayd whispers, and the four of us sweep out the doors and into the sunshine.
“What was that all about?” I ask as Tristan pulls me down the path and then pushes me into a little alcove. His hands are on either side of the archway, and his face is so close we could kiss.
“Harper and Becky are not pleased with you,” he says, reaching up to run a thumb along my lower lip. Zayd makes a growling sound from behind him, and Creed narrows his blue eyes to slits, but they don’t try to intervene. “The half of the Inner Circle that’s not loyal to us, they reported you, along with a handful of Plebs.” Tristan smiles at me, cupping my chin in his hand. “But like Zayd said, we took care of it.”
He releases me suddenly and steps back, making my head spin.
“Why are you guys helping me?” I ask, blinking through a sudden rush of emotion. “I thought …”
“Just keep those grades up,” Tristan says, pausing on his way down the path so he can turn and look at me. “I only like beating worthy opponents. When I crush you academically, it’ll be on my own merit.” He turns away and leaves me with Zayd and Creed.
“Dinner in The Mess?” Zayd asks, tilting his head to one side and giving me a panty-melting grin. “My treat.” My own lips twist up in a smile; I can’t help it. I feel heady with emotion right now. “Creed?” He watches me, and I can’t shake that memory of dancing with him during the winter formal. I felt like a princess swept away in a fairytale.
