Harper’s a lot harder to read than I thought, mostly because she spends the entire game smirking and scowling. We play several hands, and very quickly, the other students realize they’re outmatched, folding and then collecting what’s left of their money before they bail.
There’s always someone else to take their place.
“Even if you win,” Isabella says, standing up after a few rounds. The boys are all fanned behind me like a protective unit, Lizzie hovering nearby. They tense when Isabella moves up to stand beside me. I glance up and find her eyes like flint, her smile as sharp as a knife. She really does look like a mini-Harper, all privilege and spoilt ruin. “It doesn’t matter. Separating me from my friends won’t make you my sister. You’re nothing. You’re so unimportant that Mom dumped you and left you at a public bathroom.” Well, a rest stop technically, but … I exhale and stare her down, pretending her words don’t hurt even when they do. “She told me that, years ago. She even asked me if I wanted to meet you, and you know what I said?” Isabella’s smile sours even further. “I told her no. Why would I want to meet some girl that Mom dumped so long ago? If she’d cared about you, or thought you were worthwhile, why wouldn’t she have kept you?” Isabella shrugs, tosses her hair, and then turns to grab a mask from one of the bins near the door to the massive dance hall.
Ghosts and ghouls spin with sparkling masquerade masks to a classical music playlist I set up last week. It’s all dark, spooky stuff. My favorite song is the Masquerade Suite: Waltz. I’d like to dance to it tonight, if I could.
“Fuck,” I whisper, but Creed puts his hand on one of my shoulders while Zack squeezes the other. I look back to see Tristan, Windsor, and Zayd all there in support, too. They’re all looking at me like maybe I am worthwhile. After all, if I weren’t … then why are they all still here? All five of them. It’d be much easier to dump me and date another girl, right? And based on who they are, they could have any really.
I turn back to Harper, and find her watching me like a lioness watches a gazelle.
She licks her lips.
Let’s play.
We go several more rounds, but when the last cards are shown and I rake in the chips, it’s me who comes out victorious.
“What the fuck?” she snarls, slamming her hand into her own pile of winnings and sending them flying. “You rigged that!”
“We all saw that she didn’t,” Tristan snaps at her as I stand up and glare down at Harper’s scowling face.
“I’m from Lower Banks. Don’t you know poor kids always play poker better than rich ones? Now leave my sister alone.”
I turn and start off toward the dance hall. I’ve brought a special treat with me tonight.
“I can’t really leave her alone, you know,” Harper calls out, and I pause just long enough to grab a shimmering white masquerade mask. There are white pumpkins carved and set all around the ballroom, flickering and adding to the ambiance. “I’m her sponsor! And you know what bet she made to get into the Club: she’s refused to acknowledge her real father even once before he dies. What a happy parting gift that’ll be for him, won’t it, Marnye? To know he had a second daughter out there who, once she finally realized the truth, shunned him in spite of it.”
My heart stumbles past a few beats, and I feel my eyes get hot and wet.
“Marnye …” Creed reaches out to take my shoulder, but I breeze past him, cutting across the dance floor to the pedal harp on the other side. I asked some of the other orchestra members to help me load it up, and they did, without a bribe or anything else for that matter. Sometimes it feels good to be queen.
Other times, it sucks serious ass.
That can’t be true, I tell myself as I sit down at the harp, and nod at the boys to pause the music. The dance floor comes to a swaying stop. Well, about half the students pause to wait for the music to restart. The other half are too drunk or high to care, so they keep dancing and giggling. Isabella … she really is my full sister?
This is something I’m going to have to talk to Dad about, whether I like it or not.
Forcing back the tears, I put my fingers to the strings and start plucking the spooky but whimsical notes of Carnival of the Animals: VII. ‘Aquarium’. At first, the other students don’t seem to know what to do with it, but then they realize they’re not really supposed to be dancing.
