Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep
A list by Marnye ReedThe Girls: Harper du Pont, Becky Platter, and Ileana TaittingerTheir Cronies: Anna Kirkpatrick, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner, Kiara Xiao, and Ben ThresherThe PlebsBefore I graduate Burberry, I will see every name on this list crossed off, burnt to ash, and blown away in the wind. Assholes. Every single person on that list (except the Plebs, but I have no idea how I'm going to deal with them) was on the boat at the lake.
Every. Single. One.
They were going to let Harper break my fingers and take away my ability to make music forever. They were going to let Greg and John and Ben sexually assault me. As far as I'm concerned, they're all culpable. Besides, all the girls were in the pool that day. It wasn't one pair of hands that pushed me under, it was many.
Many, many hands.
"Welcome," Windsor says, appearing beside me, that special glint in his eyes that scared me from moment one. From the very first second he met the Bluebloods of Burberry Preparatory Academy, he was ready to thrown down. Looking at him now, I see that same focused energy that reminds me of a wolf on the prowl.
Windsor York is looking for prey.
"We hope you enjoy Marnye's party," he continues, grinning as Harper gives him a strange look. She knows something's up, but she also knows that if she doesn't make an appearance here, she's done for. Ileana and Becky exchange looks behind her, but they don't say anything before they move off to get drinks.
The other ex-Bluebloods—I've just started calling them the Company in my head because, like, Harper and Company makes sense to me—have already filtered into the crowd and disappeared.
My stomach twists as I see Kiara Xiao glaring at me, her angel costume leaning a bit more toward the devilish side, if you catch my drift. I'm not slut-shaming or anything, I'm just saying I don't think angels wear tiny white bikinis and cowboy boots.
"Hey," Windsor says, reaching up to brush his thumb across my lips. "Don't let them get to you."
"If you're being so chummy with them," I yell over the music, "then I'm worried because you've got something planned." He cuts me off with a kiss, and I'm so surprised that I let him take me into his arms. Kissing Windsor is … it's surreal. We were friends for an entire year, and now … The moment I saw him though, I was attracted to him. He knows it; I know it. And yet, all I can think about are his previous invitations. It'll be fun, but it won't last long. Why would he say that? Is that what he's still thinking?
And yet, I move back, taking Windsor with me until we're pushed against a wall.
He puts his palms on either side of me and pulls back just enough to grin.
The Backstreet Boys' Everybody (Backstreet's Back) music video is playing on the giant screen behind Windsor, the Halloween theme oh-so-appropriate for the occasion. I'm not really looking at it, though. No, I'm looking at a prince, and his dilated pupils, and the slight sheen of moisture on his lower lip from kissing me.
"You worry too much, milady. Relax. I planned this all for you."
He kisses me again, and my heart tumbles inside my chest. It was a like a dream when he waltzed into the academy, declared me the most beautiful girl in school, and took up my mantle of revenge as his own. But there are two sides to every coin, and I'm wondering what's going to happen when Windsor's flips.Later, when most of the partygoers are drunk, I'm sitting with Zayd and Creed in one of the game rooms, playing a round of poker. The stakes this time are pretty small comparatively. Whichever guy wins gets to take me on a date next weekend (which makes me nervous as hell). But if I win, I get to take them both. Pretty sure that this is a win-win-win scenario for me, and I'm okay with that.
After a while, I start to notice that the room is emptying out.
That's what makes me nervous.
Once our game finishes—I win, boys, sorry—I head out into the main hall and find Harper screaming in Tristan's face.
"Where the fuck are my friends, you psycho?" she shouts, and someone turns the music down. Tristan simply stands there with his fingers in his pockets. Lizzie's on one side of him, and Windsor's on the other.
Creed and Zayd exchange a look.
"What the hell is going on?" I ask them, spinning around and feeling this strange tightness in my throat. Obviously, I want my revenge. I just don't want things to get as dark as they did on the lake.
