by Selena
“Why?” I ask again, my eyes narrowing.
“I have to be obedient,” she says. “I’m this year’s Darling Dog. Or… I was. I guess now you are. There’s only one at a time.” She cowers as if she expects me to be pissed that I inadvertently made waves and therefore took her spot as the Darlings’ victim.
I remember Devlin telling the crowd that I was a Darling Dog, and my stomach roils. If they think they’re going to tell me what to wear, they’ve got another thing coming. But I can’t stop the rest of it. The barking. The crude taunts.
The bullying.
The irony is not lost on me. When I said I was going to atone for my sins, I didn’t think I’d have to go this far. I thought I could start over, be someone better. I thought I could stick up for someone instead of participating in their downfall. But suddenly, I know this is the only way to truly pay for my sins. I have to see what it’s like on the other side. To see how it feels to tumble from the throne, to look up at it from below.
But I won’t make it easy for them. I may be forced to kneel, but I won’t do it on my own. I won’t wear their collars and bow at their feet. I’ll fight every step of the way. Because no matter how far they bend me to their will, I will never break.
eight
Turns out, it wasn’t as simple as moving to a new school and taking over like royalty. Turns out, even small towns have kings. And those kings don’t want to cede their thrones.
“What happened?” I ask, sliding into the front seat of the Range Rover that afternoon. “Where were you at lunch?”
“That asshole tried to suspend us,” King says, shifting into gear. “Buckle up.”
I obey before turning to my brother. “Wait, did you actually get in trouble?”
My brothers don’t get in trouble. Of course, they usually don’t throw down in the middle of the hall, but it was a good show of dominance on their first day. Still, we never get in trouble. School officials turn a blind eye to people like us.
Or they did in Manhattan.
“We took off the rest of the day,” King says. “Dad went down to take care of it. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I say with a sigh of relief. At least I had Dixie to sit with at lunch. Yes, she’s a total Darling fangirl, but at least I had someone. Even if she’s someone who went super nerd on me and got out an actual notebook and made me brainstorm “The Rules of Friendship” with her, she’s nice. I chose her for a friend, and I’m sticking to it, rules and all.
“How was it?” King asks, swinging out of the lot.
I open my mouth to tell him, but then I shut it. I don’t want to start another fight, to get my brothers in trouble before the school has time to realize we’re just as untouchable as the Darlings. And I don’t want to be in the middle of the what my brothers have going on with them. That’s something different from what happened to me today. The dust will settle soon enough, and if I don’t give the Darlings the satisfaction of reacting, maybe they’ll get bored and move on. Some other new girl will come along, and I’ll be old news.
A funny little twist tugs inside me at the thought. I push it away. I swore I’d be good this time. I’ve had the limelight. I don’t need it again.
“Maybe Daddy hasn’t made a big enough donation,” I say to King.
King smirks. “He did today.”
“Good,” I say, but a flutter of uncertainty tickles my ribs from within. Maybe pushing back against the Darlings isn’t such a good idea. Maybe we should join them instead of fighting them. I know better than to suggest that to King. My brothers have set their sights on ruling this town, and there’s no stopping them now. If the Darlings had reacted differently, if they’d been even a little bit welcoming, my brothers might have opened ranks enough to allow them in. They might have considered the Darlings worthy. But it’s too late now.
King pats my knee as we pull up to our house. “Hope you’re ready,” he says. “Tomorrow we’re going in swinging.”
*
The next day, my brothers are allowed back at school. I’ve given up on being someone I’m not, and the fear I felt the day before is gone. I’m not a shrinking violet, and I couldn’t be if I tried. Now that I have the attention of Willow Heights, I just have to turn it to something positive, use it to do good and help people.
We leave the house early, which is unlike us. An undercurrent of tension in the car makes me jittery, but my brothers assure me everything is fine. When we pull up to Willow Heights, King swings the Rover into the first parking spot, the one near the walkway.
“What are you doing?” I ask slowly.
“We’re taking what’s ours,” King says, shutting off the engine.
“And you couldn’t have told me?” I ask, climbing out. “Devlin’s going to lose it.”
“Here’s hoping,” Duke says, draping an arm over my shoulder. “I can’t wait to see the look on that asshole’s face when he realizes we outbid him for this.”
“Next, we take their spots on the football team,” King says.
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to quit, are you?”
“Fuck no,” Baron says, holding up a hand for Duke to slap.
“We’re making a point,” King says. “When they back off and realize we’re here to stay, that we own this school now, we’ll have no problem with them. But first they have to accept that there’s a new rule in this town.”
“And if they ever touch you again, I’ll fucking kill them,” Royal growls behind me.
I turn to him, and like always, it steadies my mind. This crazy plan, this crazy prank, doesn’t seem too crazy if he’s on board with it. His dark gaze holds mine, and I center myself. Royal squeezes my hand for a second before his eyes focus on something behind me. I hear the roar of an engine, and before I even look, I know the Darlings have arrived.
The Bel Air skids to a stop so suddenly that a shriek of brakes sounds, and white smoke drifts up from the tires.
Devlin is out of the car and in our faces in two seconds flat, the door hanging open and the engine still running.
“What the fuck is this?” he demands, looking at the Rover like it’s some old beater car. I know it’s not the car he objects to, though. It’s us. Our new money. Our power. Our claim to a throne he once ascended. A throne he thought he’d always own because of his name.
“This is our parking spot,” King says calmly.
Devlin isn’t calm. He grabs King, and I scoot away, ready for another brawl. These Arkansas kids have short fuses. Royal likes to fight more than can possibly be healthy, but he doesn’t lose his temper. We know how to take shit without letting it ruffle us. The Darlings? They don’t even try.
They throw punches first, ask questions never.
Devlin’s fist connects with King’s jaw before he leaps back, dancing on his toes like a boxer. “There’s more where that came from,” Devlin snarls. “Get back in your car and go park where you were yesterday, over there with the trash. That’s where your family belongs.”
King spits blood at Devlin’s feet. “Take it up with your admin. They know we belong right here. And pretty soon you’ll know it, too.”
A dozen or so kids have gathered to watch the standoff. Preston hops from the Bel Air to back his brother, and even Colt climbs out. The toes of his cowboy boots peek out from the hem of his slacks, and I can’t help but wonder if he was thinking of me this morning. The thought makes a little charge go through me. I thought they’d look cheesy, but somehow, he makes it look good. He grins when he catches me checking him out, and I pull my attention away from him.
A huge, cotton candy-pink truck hops the curb and comes roaring into the parking lot and pulls into the space next to ours. I gape at the bubblegum monstrosity, but no one else seems surprised by the vehicle or the cartoon who stumbles out of it. She barely keeps her feet, grabbing onto her truck bed to steady herself on her six-inch heels. Her leather, hot-pink skirt barely covers her ass, and her enormous breasts strain against a white button-up s
hirt.
“Sorry, y’all,” she says in a breathy, sweet southern accent. “Did I interrupt somethin’?” She shakes soft, platinum curls back from her face and looks around at us.
“No,” Devlin snaps before turning and storming into the building.
Redneck Barbie gives us a wounded look, then strides past us, calling after Devlin. Preston steps into the Bel Air and pulls off to park somewhere else, and the crowd begins to disperse. Somehow, I don’t think this is over, though.
“That’s Dolly,” a conspiratorial murmur tickles my ear. I look up to see Colt behind me. He nods at the retreating figure of the Barbie girl and shoots me that lazy grin. “She’s got a thing for Devlin, if you couldn’t tell.”
I lean away from Colt, but judging by the look on King’s face, he saw Colt’s fingers brush the curve of my waist. I scowl at the friendly Darling cousin. It wouldn’t be fair to let this guy think we’re friends. Cutting him off quickly and thoroughly is the only way to go.
“I thought I was a dog,” I say. “You’d better go set up in the hall so you can bark at me when I walk in.”
“Aw, don’t be sore at me,” he says. “I didn’t call you that. Besides, everybody likes dogs. They’re cute as hell.”
“Why are you talking to our sister?” Duke asks, sliding in at to my side and standing over me the way my brothers always do.
One look at them was enough to make most guys back home back off, but Colt just grins. “Last I checked, it’s a free country,” he says. “I figure I got as much right to talk to a pretty girl as the next guy.”
“You figured wrong,” Royal says, stepping up to my other side, jostling Colt out of the way in the process. “Now back the fuck off. Crystal is not available.”
“Understood,” Colt says, raising both hands and stepping back. “See you in second period, Sugar Crystal.”
He gives me a wink before turning and sauntering off.
“Who the fuck is that?” Royal asks, getting up in my face. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d be scared of him. With his thick dark brows drawn together, he looks dangerous as a hurricane.
I shrug, my heart hammering as the words fall from my lips. “No one. We got paired up in class. That’s it.” I won’t say I’ve never lied to my brothers, but it’s not a frequent occurrence. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to tell the whole truth. Because the truth is, I don’t know if that’s it or not. The truth is, I feel some pull to the magnetism of the Darlings. They are like us, but not like us. I want to know how other people like us run their school, what’s different and what’s not. I want to know why Colt is so casually fearless and why Devlin is so angry.
“Well, tell your teacher you can’t work with him,” King says flatly. “We’re not getting friendly with that family. We’re taking them down.”
It’s not really a choice. It’s not like I’ll pick Colt Darling over my own family. My family is everything to me. They might smother me at times or control me more than I’d like, but they’re family. They’d die for me.
I’ve known Colt for one day.
“Okay,” I say, nodding. Losing Colt’s friendship is not a high price to pay for being a Dolce. Loyalty is everything to us, and we need to show that. Letting people see me talking to a Darling boy is not going to do us any favors. We have to form a united front, to appear as one unit. After all, the Dolce family has a reputation to build.
Still, a small ache forms in my chest when I walk away without an explanation to Colt, without so much as a backwards glance. He’s just flirting. He doesn’t care about me. And I barely know him, so I can’t care about him. But the thought of losing any friend in this hostile place is unsettling. Not to mention that maybe, for once in my life, it would be nice to think of myself first. To not have to worry about what it will look like, whether my brothers approve, or how it will reflect on our family.
I push the thoughts away and head to class. This time, I walk with my brothers. No one barks at me, and I hope against my better judgment that it’s a first-day initiation, that it’ll be forgotten altogether when everyone hears about the fight that almost went down in the parking lot.
And then I walk into first period and see Devlin Darling sitting at the lab table in the back of the room where Mr. Wagnall assigned me the day before.
Fuck no. Not happening.
I turn to the teacher, an older man with little round spectacles and a bald head with tufts of hair that stick out above his ears, making him look exactly like an owl. “Can I sit somewhere else today?”
“Have a seat in your assigned spot,” he drones, sounding bored.
“Yeah, see, that guy wasn’t here yesterday,” I say. “And I’m not supposed to sit with him. Family feud thing. Can I just sit over there?” I gesture to an empty table and give Mr. Wagnall my most charming smile.
“Nice try, Miss Dolce,” he says. “But we have assigned seats. Please take yours.”
“You’ll be hearing from my father.”
“I have no doubt,” he says, not sounding at all impressed.
The room is filling, and I don’t want to make a spectacle, so I grit my teeth and make my way toward Devlin. I hold my head high and keep my eyes forward, my face still. I practice a technique I learned in therapy, picturing myself from the outside. No one can tell my heart is racing and my stomach is knotted with dread, waiting for the barking and name-calling. To everyone else, I’m a pretty girl with flawlessly straightened hair, plum lipstick, and a fitted, conservative dress with a belt and matching pumps.
Everyone is watching me. Silent. Waiting. I pray they can’t see my knees shaking and thank heaven they don’t make a move. I arrive at Devlin’s table, a raised, black-surfaced lab station. Devlin stares at me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters under his breath. “This is the seat you chose?”
“You weren’t here yesterday,” I say, sliding onto the stool beside him. “I didn’t know you sat here. And Mr. Wagnall says we have assigned seats.”
Devlin smirks. “And you just do what everyone tells you, like a good dog?”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare. “I tried. He refused. Do you really think I want to sit with you?”
A flicker of surprise flashes in his devastating blue eyes. Apparently, he’s not used to girls not falling for his asshole act.
“Then go sit somewhere else,” he grinds out.
I shrug. “Not worth a detention. But I hear your family has a lot of sway in this town. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
Devlin’s eyes narrow. Then he pushes back from the high table. “Mr. Wagnall? I need a new partner.”
Mr. Wagnall sighs and runs a hand over his bald head, closing his eyes for a second like he’s praying for patience.
“Fine,” he says. “Dolly’s partner is out today. You can work with her.”
Devlin stills, his hand clenched around the edge of the table. He stares at Mr. Wagnall for a long moment, then shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Never mind.”
Mr. Wagnall sighs and starts droning on about our chemistry assignment.
“Wow,” I say. “What’d Redneck Barbie do to piss you off?”
“Don’t call her that,” Devlin snaps.
I’m too surprised by his defending her to answer. Dolly is slumped in her chair, her head down, her big blonde waves falling forward to hide her face. Suddenly, I feel like shit for saying anything about her. Colt already told me she liked Devlin, though the feeling is definitely not mutual. There’s obviously a history there that I know nothing about, so I drop the subject.
“Hey, at least he was going to move you,” I offer.
Devlin’s smirk returns, and for some reason, a surge of elation rises in me. I did that. I turned his anger off. “You act surprised,” he says, his eyes hooded as he watches me.
“Not surprised,” I say. “Just confirmed what I already suspected.”
“And what’s that?”
“That the South works a lot like the mo
b.”
This time, Devlin’s lips twitch like he’s holding back a laugh. “I gotta hear this.”
I shrug and pull out the supplies we’re supposed to be working with. “The Families have all the sway,” I say. “They can do whatever they want. It’s more about old family loyalties than bottomless pockets.”
He’s watching me now, his eyes guarded but curiosity showing through.
I toss my dark hair back and give him a serene smile. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Your family’s in the mafia?” he asks.
For some reason, that question reassures me. I get that question a lot. It’s nice to know that under it all, Devlin is human just like all of us. Just like me.
I shrug. “We have sway.”
He smiles a little, shakes his head, and pulls the experiment instructions in front of him. For the rest of class, I’m dying to ask him questions about his family, to find out what he thinks of what I said, what he thinks about us living next door, why he was out throwing a football at midnight. But I remind myself that I’m not supposed to care about the answers to any of those questions. The only reason I should be talking to Devlin Darling at all is to find out information that could take him down.
That’s still being better than I used to be, right? I mean, taking someone down… That sounds like something Veronica would do. Something I did before.But this is different.
This isn’t hurting someone small who can’t or won’t fight back. This is taking down the kind of person who picks on people like that. Taking down a bully is nothing to feel guilty about, especially when I know my brothers will take their place. And my brothers aren’t angels, but they’re not bullies. The twins might be manwhores, and Royal itches for a fight the way addicts itch for a fix. But they don’t collar a girl and call her the school dog. They don’t get their power by making someone else feel small and helpless.
What we’re doing is taking over and making the school better. That’s a noble goal. Next year, there will be no dog packs in the halls of Willow Heights. It will be safe for people like Dixie. Safe from people like the Darlings and the person I used to be.
