And … I’ve got everything on film. It’s shaky and blurry and probably not at all in focus, but my phone is running constantly, clutched at my side and carefully aimed in Creed’s direction. In the foggy darkness, it’s pretty hard to see, especially with the glowing jack o’ lanterns everywhere.
“Jalen, don’t,” Ebony screams again, and he whirls to face her, panting, pointing a finger in Tristan’s direction.
“Did you sleep with him?” he asks, and Ebony glances away sharply. Jalen lets out another roar of rage, and then he spins and goes for Tristan yet again. This time, they end up exchanging blows.
“I didn’t!” she shouts, trying to yank her boyfriend back. “We never slept together.” Jalen pushes Tristan, and the king of the school actually stumbles a bit, blood running down the side of his mouth as he sneers at one of the most loyal members of his Inner Circle. One of his most loyal members who’s just been thoroughly betrayed.
“Marnye,” Zack breathes, and he looks at me with a new level of respect, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” I smile tightly, but this isn’t over, not even close.
“We never slept together, but I wanted to,” Ebony chokes out, tears running down her face. “You’re so obsessed with football and working out. We never spend time together. Tristan is …”
“He doesn’t give a shit about you!” Jalen screams, panting, blood streaming from his nose. His brown eyes are wide and wild. Frankly, he looks like he’s about to cry. “I do.” He slams a fist against his chest and gets in Ebony’s face. She just stands there, eyes wide, staring at him. “I love you, Ebony. I fucking love you. I always have.”
“Well, I don’t love you,” she says, and then starts to sob. A few of the other girls, like Abigail and Valentina, come close and put their arms around her. Jalen stares at her in shock for several seconds before he begins to cry, these big, soppy messy tears that actually make me like him more. Boys should be able to cry; it’s disturbing that society tries to tell them otherwise.
But we’ve already learned that people like John Hannibal and Gregory Van Horn are walking nightmares.
“Are you fucking crying? Pussy bitch.” John cackles, his laugh like that of a hyena on the prowl. It’s disturbing. He’s dressed like a serial killer tonight, too, with faux blood all over his shirt. How lovely.
Jalen turns again, so suddenly that Tristan’s still in the process of wiping crimson from his lips. He tackles him, and it takes several of the other boys to pry them apart.
Creed … is absolutely loving this moment.
“Tristan Vanderbilt is a walking STD. He will sleep with anything that moves, but he’s so disrespectful I’m not sure how he even gets girls.” Creed chuckles as Tristan grits his teeth so hard it looks like one or two might just crack. Or hell, maybe Jalen will crack them for him? The boys start scuffling again as Ebony sobs and wails like she’s the victim here. “The sad thing is, he’s truly the king of Burberry Prep, and for good reason. I mean, who else would stand up to him, certainly not—” Creed turns the page and pauses abruptly, the amusement vanishing from his face. His gaze lifts up to mine.
I’m damn sure this is the end, that that’s all he’s going to read, but good old Greg hops up and snatches the journal from him, thrusting it into John’s hands.
“Certainly not Creed Cabot. If ever there was a definition for wannabe, he’s it. He tries so hard to be Tristan Vanderbilt, it’s pathetic. He could never match up to him—and that’s pretty sad, since the him in question is a womanizing lothario.” John snickers as Zayd throws his head back and howls with laughter. Meanwhile, the fight between Jalen and Tristan escalates.
“The only one worse and more pathetic than Creed,” Greg continues as he reads over John’s shoulder, dressed up like Geralt from The Witcher video games/novels. Cosplay like that might look hot on someone like Zack who has the shoulders and muscles to carry it. On Greg, it looks even worse than Zack’s too tight green dress and pearl necklace (the plastic kind, not the pervy kind, obvs). “Is Zayd Kaiser. I mean, seriously. Does he think his music is actually good? At least Creed’s and Tristan’s dads show up to the school to support their kids. Zayd’s dad doesn’t even bother.”
Zayd’s face is now tight and white, and he’s looking at me like I’m a monster.
Here’s the thing: if they hadn’t stolen my journal and read it, none of this would be happening. None of it. The Bluebloods have brought this on themselves.
Miranda is standing there shaking with rage. I feel bad for what she’s going through, but I didn’t make her brother do any of this. No, he broke into my room all on his own. I bet the guys made copies of my room and locker keys before they handed that bundle over to Vice Principal Castor. How they got keys for my new dorm locks, I’m not sure. It’s horrifying to see how far their treachery went.
