by Liv Reid
I hate her. She has always been a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She presented herself as just a studious, hard-working girl. But I know better now. She’s a poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks with no morals, who would do anything to get a piece of our fortune. She’d even ruin a man’s life to do it.
She has been the downfall of my family. She’s the invisible thorn in my side. Even if I haven’t seen her for four years, she’s always been there, haunting me with those eyes.
I reach the woods. There are no lights out here, but I’ve walked this path so many times I don’t need light. I move under the silent trees like a shadow slipping quietly through the night.
She’s been casting a shadow over my life for the entire time I’ve known her, and it’s time to put an end to it. It’s time to finally deal with Violet fucking Miller, once and for all.
For her sake, she better not accept my mother’s offer. If she sets foot on this campus, I’m going to destroy her. I’m going to haunt her like she’s haunted me all these years. I’m going to change the look in those violet eyes in my nightmares from triumph to fear.
Violet, for your sake I hope you stay the fuck away, because if not, then you’re in for a world of trouble. I’m going to torture you and make you wish you were never born.
I start devising my plan, as I move silently through the black woods.
4
V
I’m doing it. I can’t believe I’m actually doing it. I get out of my car, and the second my feet hit the perfectly manicured grass of Crowned College, I feel something change. This is my new start. This place is my second chance at life.
I had still been making up my mind on whether or not I was going to come here, all the way up until this morning when I finally got in my car and drove here.
I look around and can’t help but be in awe of the beautiful campus. I’ve seen it before, sure. I’ve looked at pictures of it every night on my phone in my tiny room, imagining what it would be like to really be standing here. But this is different. Being here is so much better than seeing it in a picture.
The campus is made up of red-bricked buildings covered in ivy, sitting on deep green-colored lawns. There are old oak trees scattered around between paved walkways. This place looks like everyone’s fantasy of a perfect East Coast college.
I grab my small suitcase and start walking towards my new life.
A small nagging thought in the back of my mind reminds me that I’m here because I took dirty blood money, but I try to push the thought even farther back. There was no other way.
I could never in a million years be able to afford to go to school here—and that’s even if I could get in. I needed to take that money. Like Ruby said, I’d be a fool not to. And I know my dad would have wanted me to.
At the thought of my dad, a twinge of pain shoots me in the heart. I know my dad would have wanted me to be here right now, but I can’t stop the guilt. I took money from the family that killed him.
“Don’t think about it, Violet,” I whisper to myself. You’re doing this for a better life. They offered, and you only had to say yes. They wanted to give this money to you, and who cares if they have ulterior motives? Those motives will never come to pass because you’re on to them. They aren’t going to get what they want out of this arrangement, but you will. And that’s a very small payback to the family who ruined your life.
As I walk across campus, I see students rushing to class or clustered in groups having discussions about history and literature and science. My heart swells. I missed this. For the last four years, all my conversations have been about drugs, car payments, reality TV and boyfriends in jail. I didn’t realize how badly I need this in my life.
I pull out the welcome package which was mailed to me a week ago. My roommate had been the one to find it.
“What the fuck is this?” Todd asks, his mouth moving around the cigarette that’s permanently stuck there.
I rush over and grab it from him. “None of your business.”
“Crowned College? You really think you could get in there?” he asks skeptically, and it pisses me off.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
He snorts, and it makes me even more mad.
“You going then?” he asks jokingly.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“If you’re able to go there and you don’t, then you’re a moron.” He takes a deep drag from his cigarette and then walks into the living room to sit on our ripped couch.
I clutch the package to my chest and hurry back to my room.
I find the map of the campus and the paper with my dorm room info on it—though I don’t really need it. I’ve spent the past week studying it intensely, as if it would give me the answers to the secrets of life. I have the whole thing practically memorized.
After a ten-minute walk, I arrive at my dorm building. It’s an old stone structure surrounded by woods on three sides. My room is on the second floor. Since the building is so old, there’s no elevator, so I drag my bag up the polished wooden staircase. But since I’m poor, my luggage isn’t heavy.
The whole place is covered in rich coffee-colored wood, and there are old Persian area rugs on the floor. Old-fashioned sconces light my way as even though there’s bright daylight coming in through the windows, it’s still quite dark inside.
Room 207. Here it is. I knock first before going in because according to my info sheet I’m going to have a roommate.
“Come in!” I hear a voice call.
I open the door and see a beautiful girl with shoulder-length blonde—almost white—hair sitting on one of the beds. Her dark eyes sparkle as she smiles.
“Hi, I’m Everly English.” She stands up to greet me.
We shake hands, and it feels weirdly formal for two people who are going to be living in the same room together for the next eight months.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Violet Miller.”
“Pretty name. I can see why they gave you that.”
My mouth turns down for just a split second, but it’s enough for her to notice.
“Oh, sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. Probably everyone tells you that, and you’re sick of hearing it.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that my mother gave me that name right before she passed away. She gave it to me because of my eyes, so whenever anyone says that it makes me think of her. That’s all. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, please don’t be.” I wish I hadn’t made this awkward.
“Let’s start again. I’m Everly English.”
“And I’m Violet Miller. Nice to meet you.”
We shake hands again, but this time we’ve broken the ice, and it’s more friendly.
“I got here yesterday, so I took this side of the room, hope that’s ok,” Everly says.
“Fine with me. Both sides look the same.” I throw my bag onto my bed.
“Need help bringing in your stuff?”
“Uh…” I look down at my bag. “That’s pretty much it.”
“Oh!”
Everly is clearly very, very rich. I can just tell. Rich people have an aura about them—though she doesn’t seem like the other rich assholes I’ve met. She’s dressed head-to-toe in what I’m guessing are designer clothes, even though she’s just wearing baggy jeans and a white t-shirt. Her side of the room is full of expensive electronics, and the comforter on her bed looks like it was woven from pure gold.
I don’t know if she’s ever met someone as poor as me, probably not. Rich people tend to hang out with their own type. Maybe she won’t want to live with someone like me? Those worries are quickly cast aside because she immediately starts asking questions and seems genuinely interested in getting to know me.
After I finish unpacking—which takes all of five minutes—she asks if I’m hungry.
“Starving!”
I haven’t eaten for the last two days beca
use I was worried about not having enough money to buy gas to get here.
We walk across campus to the massive cafeteria. The place is packed, but we are able to grab our food and find a private booth in the corner. I’ve never seen a cafeteria like this before. With its high ceilings and dark wood, it looks more like an old manor in England than a place for students to grab food between classes and quickly shove it in their mouths.
Looking around, I can see that all the other students come from money. They all have that “rich” aura about them, and I’m starting to get nervous. What if this turns out to be like high school? My first couple of years at Sycamore Heights were fine, but the last year I was there was pure hell.
I was bullied mercilessly for being the “poor girl”. One guy in particular was my main tormentor, and he forced his friends to also torture me. It got so bad that I can’t believe I didn’t drop out at the time—I mean, I did end up dropping out, but that was for different reasons.
Everly notices I’m distracted and asks what I’m thinking about.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
I’ve gotten used to deflecting questions over the past four years. I never wanted to reveal anything personal about myself because it was too painful and would invite more questions. In the place I was living before, the less people knew about you the safer you were.
The look on Everly’s face makes me realize I’m no longer in that desperate place where I have to struggle to survive. I’m at a fancy college where everyone is working towards their futures, and their biggest fears are how well they’ll do on their next tests. None of them have to worry about getting shot or how they are going to afford their next meal.
I don’t have to be so guarded here. I realize that if I keep myself closed off then Everly and I will never be close, and that’s not what I want. I like her already. She seems warm and intelligent. I want us to be friends, so I’m going to have to lower my walls and let her in.
I think I can trust her, and even if she reacts badly when she finds out who I really am, well, I’m just going to have to take that chance.
“I’m going to be honest, I’ve been out of school for a while now so this is all kind of throwing me off… I’m also really poor.”
She’s sweet and understanding about it, so I end up telling her my story while we eat our amazing fajitas. She’s the first person I’ve really opened up to in a long time, and it feels good. I tell her about wanting to be a doctor but having to drop out and start working when my dad died. I tell her I got a scholarship to attend this school, but I’m a couple of years behind.
Before I can tell her about the Astons, some gorgeous guy grabs an apple off Everly’s tray.
“Hey!” she yells before looking over and seeing who it is. “Rogan.” She rolls her eyes.
“Hey, Sis.” He takes a big bite with his perfect, white teeth. “Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?” He asks and looks me up and down appreciatively.
I should be offended he thinks he can look at me like that, but I can’t help but be a little flattered. This guy is hotter than the sun. With his broad shoulders and blue eyes, he looks like he could be the poster boy for the term “All American”.
“This is my roommate, Violet Miller. Violet, this is Rogan, my annoying brother,” Everly says begrudgingly.
When he hears my name, his eyes narrow, and he gets a smirk on his face. He tilts his chin towards me. “Nice to meet you. Hope to see more of you.” He raises his eyebrows and pretends to look under the table at my legs.
“Rogan!” Everly stands up and starts pushing him away from our table.
“Ok, ok, I’m going.” He throws up his hands, laughing, and walks away. “I’m just kidding around.”
“You are not sleeping with my roommate—again! Do you know what an awkward position that puts me in??”
“Ok, Everly. Your pretty little friend is safe from me, I promise.” He turns back to me and winks.
I realize I’m smiling and force my face back to a neutral expression when Everly comes back and sits down again.
“I am so sorry. He’s such an ass. I don’t know how the two of us are related.”
I don’t either. They look nothing alike. They are both gorgeous, but in very different ways. Rogan has rich chocolate hair, tan skin and strong features, while Everly is pale with white hair and is much softer-looking.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, but I’m secretly pleased. I can’t believe a guy that hot just hit on me.
“He’ll literally hit on anything that moves.”
And suddenly, I feel less flattered.
“See you tonight at the meeting, Sis. Don’t forget,” he calls back from across the room, not caring that he’s disturbing everyone in the cafeteria.
She waves him off.
“Meeting?” I ask.
“Yeah, my brother is the president of this stupid secret club. My family have been members for generations, so I have to go.”
“Is it the Dark Society?”
She looks at me, suddenly nervous. She’s worried she said too much, was too flippant about talking about a group that’s supposed to be a secret.
“Why?” she asks suspiciously.
“It’s just that I also have to go to that tonight. One of the requirements of my scholarship is I have to be a member.”
She visibly relaxes and then laughs in relief. “Phew. We can get in big trouble for talking about it to non-members. The rules may be stupid, but the consequences are serious.”
When I called the law firm a week and a half ago and agreed to take the deal, the guy mentioned there were a couple of stipulations. I had instantly bristled. Accepting their money was hard enough, but now they wanted even more things from me?
He said all the information I needed would be included in my welcome package, including the additional requirements. I was about to change my mind right then and turn down the offer, but I stopped myself and calmed my temper. Just wait until you get the package to see what it is. Maybe it won’t be that bad.
One of the stipulations was that I had to be a member of the Dark Society, which, when I looked it up, didn’t seem too bad. It’s a secret society that was founded almost a hundred and fifty years ago. There’s not a lot of information about it online—not surprising given the fact that they are a “secret” society. From my research, it just sounds like a bunch of frat boys and sorority girls getting together to do silly rituals and get drunk. I don’t like it, but I can deal with it.
The other stipulation to get the scholarship is a hundred times worse. That’s the one I’m truly dreading.
“At least I’ll know someone,” I say excitedly.
I wasn’t looking forward to this meeting tonight, but if Everly is there then maybe it won’t be so bad.
She seems excited too, and it feels nice. At least I’ll have one friend there.
5
V
I tie the silk ribbons of the Victorian mask together behind my head. I spin around and look in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door.
“Wow,” I whisper.
I love how I look. Everly is letting me borrow an extra costume she had. I didn’t know the first Dark Society meeting of the year was always a masquerade, but I looked back at my info package and saw it was mentioned. I remember that after I read I had to be a member of this stupid-sounding society, I got annoyed and didn’t read any farther.
Everly comes up behind me to look in the mirror as well.
“Do you love it?” she asks.
We’re both wearing identical costumes but in different colors. I’m in an emerald green ballgown that compliments the red tint in my hair, and a gold mask. Everly is wearing deep purple and a silver mask, and it looks amazing contrasted with her light hair.
“I’ve never worn something like this before. Thank you,” I say, as I spin around.
“Don’t mention it. Also, get used to it. If you have to keep going to these meetings, we are
going to have to get you a whole new wardrobe of fancy, useless clothes you’ll only wear once and never again.”
I have no idea how I’ll be able to afford that. I would have been screwed tonight if Everly didn’t buy two dresses just because she likes to have options. “You never know how you’ll feel on the day of,” she said, shrugging.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to have so much money you never even look at a price tag.
She walks over to her desk, applies a pale pink lipstick and then we’re ready to go. The Dark Society’s headquarters is on the other side of campus, so we have a long walk.
The sun has just set, and the campus is glowing in the twilight. Everly is wearing heels, so she links arms with me to help balance. I’m wearing my tennis shoes because the dress is so long no one will see them, anyway. I’m short, but I don’t care about being tall. Plus, I hate heels. I’ve only worn them once in my life, on a date with a guy who turned out to not be worth it. And they hurt like hell—just like the guy. Heston Aston.
“The ‘Dark Society’ is a pretty lame name,” I can’t help but say.
I’ve been thinking it ever since I saw the name in my welcome package.
She laughs. “No disagreements here. All the secret college societies have lame names though. I think it’s just part of the tradition.”
I ask her about her brother—just because I want to know more about her, not because he’s really hot or anything, I swear. Besides, after what happened the last time I went out with a rich guy, I’ll never do that again… but it doesn’t hurt to look.
She tells me Rogan’s always been an overachiever, despite pretending to be so laid back. He has the top marks in school, is captain of the rugby team and is the president of the Dark Society. He also has early acceptance to law school next year.
“He wants everyone to think he’s this easy-going slacker, but he’s the hardest worker I know. Back home in New York, after school, he’d tell everyone he was going home to get high and play video games, then sneak off and go to art galleries and museums. I don’t get why he pretends. It’s something that we used to fight about a lot. I love him, but he drives me crazy.”
