“I’m fine,” I say, my voice shaky and dark with pain. Zayd notices and scowls, giving Becky a look that’s pure, unadulterated hatred.
“You fucking idiots,” Tristan says, leaning his weight forward until Harper screams. “We have video footage of this entire thing. You think I won’t use it?”
“Do you think my parents don’t have any sway over the academy staff?” she shouts back at him. “I’ll get in-school suspension, and a slap on the wrist. This is nothing.” Tristan grinds his heel down and she squeaks with real pain.
“You should go find your boyfriends—and don’t tell me you’re not fucking John and Greg. I have video footage of that, too.”
“Wait, you’re screwing Greg?” Abigail whispers, but nobody acknowledges her.
“What did you do to them?” Valentina asks, wringing her hands. “Where are they?”
“On their way home,” Creed drawls, lounging against the doorjamb with his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s playing the bored Blueblood act, but I can see worry pinching his brow as he glances over at me.
“They were caught sharing unauthorized nude photos of other students all over the school,” Windsor says, cool as a cucumber. He actually looks like he might be having fun. Then again, there’s that darkness behind his eyes he isn’t so good at hiding from me anymore.
“You planted nudes on their phones?” Ileana scoffs, and Windsor turns to look at her with his brows raised.
“No. They already had the nudes. I guess this time, they just sent them out to the whole school on accident. And while Harper might have good enough connections to escape the zero tolerance policy on bullying, Greg and John do not.”
Abigail shoves between Zayd and Creed, taking off down the hall with her heels clacking on the stone.
“Bye-bye, Greg,” Tristan says, giving a derisive little one handed wave. “Bye-bye, John. Oh, unfortunately, John’s father isn’t going to get reelected, so … you can kiss your father’s handpicked future US senator goodbye, too. It’s just a day of bittersweet farewells, isn’t it?”
“He was screwing his secretary’s seventeen year old son,” Zack whispers in my ear, kissing me softly. “Hang them with their own rope, right?” I cling to him, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Don’t forget about Greg’s family,” Windsor says, speaking up.
“Nah, how could we?” Zayd says, getting out a cigarette and lighting up. He saunters into my room and cracks open the bathroom window, planting his boot on the closed toilet lid, so he can smoke. “Not when he media’s having a field day with all those leaked documents. How many illegal foreclosures did they push through in the last decade?”
“You can’t mess with Infinity Club members like that!” Harper snarls as Tristan finally releases her hand, and she scrambles to her feet. He collects the Working Girl brand before she can get hold of it and chucks it into my trash can. “It’s against the rules. That’s what the bets are for. You don’t involve business, politics, or media.”
“We bet you that we could keep Marnye here at Burberry until she graduated. However we have to go about doing that is fair game.”
“We’ll see,” Harper sneers, touching the blister on her bottom lip. It starts to bleed, but I have no sympathy left for her.
She grabs Becky and Ileana by the arms and heads for the door.
“Wait,” I call out, and she actually pauses, turning a poisonous glare on me. I lick my dry lower lip. “Last year, when I was collecting information on all of you … I found out that John has chlamydia. I’m really sorry. At least it’s curable, right?”
Harper’s eyes go wide and she jerks her friends into the hallway. The rest of the girls follow after, and Myron and Lizzie push the door closed.
“Does he really chlamydia?” Zack asks, and I nod.
“He left his notebook lying on the ground during football drills once, and I peeked inside.”
“Good thing you stopped screwing the Blueblood girls during first year,” Creed drawls, giving both Tristan and Zayd looks. “Looks like shit went down after that.”
“Well, I just got my STD results in,” Tristan purrs, and Zayd grins.
“Same, bro. We’re clean.” Zayd flicks his cigarette into the sink, and comes to stand in the room with is hands in his pockets, locking those beautiful emerald eyes with my brown ones. “We didn’t dare touch Marnye until we knew for sure.”
“Game’s on,” Tristan breathes, and then he takes a step toward me, but I don’t remember what happens after that because I’m in so much pain, I just pass out.The burn on my arm is about the size of an apple, and it’s definitely second-degree, according to the Burberry Prep school nurse. She gives me a scolding about being careful with the iron, calls my dad, and makes me sit there while he fusses over me.
After word about what happened gets around, the attitude in the Plebs shifts. When I walk down the hall, people scramble to get out of my way. If I step onto an elevator, everyone else vacates. And for the time being, nobody sits at the high table but us.
