by Angel Lawson
Adam snorts. “Those poor bastards. Maybe turn on some porn and they’ll have a better night.”
“What are you talking about?”
Trip cuts him a glare, but shifts on a dime, giving me a smug grin. “You know how it is, Mathers. Not all of us have the sweet mouth of Eden Warren to come into every night.” He frowns. “Although I guess with the three of you, it’s probably every three nights, right?”
I swear this boy has a death wish. He’s lucky Hawk isn’t here, or he’d be flat on his ass. But I’m not run by emotions. I operate more closely to Trip than I’d like to admit. That, my friends, was a diversion, and I’m not falling for it.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I say, taking a sip of my drink and heading toward the door. “'Night.”
Once I’ve checked any and all places Emma could be, I head out the back door and start across the campus. Maybe she went on a walk. It’s gotta suck being kicked out of whatever Trip has going on and not being invited to a party.
I’m passing in front of the gymnasium when I see the girl walk by, her dark hair swaying down her back. She’s out of uniform. Jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that hangs seductively off her shoulder. Eden had pointed her out to me the day before; Emma.
Doing my best not to look like a stalker, I keep a safe distance. She walks with purpose, unafraid, and perfectly capable as she walks through the dark. When she takes the path to the right, I realize she’s headed down toward faculty housing. She pauses to check something on her phone, positions herself in front of Dorian’s apartment and slaps herself across the face.
“What the—” I mutter, watching her run her hands through her stick-straight hair. She tugs at her shirt and rubs her eyes.
She walks up the front steps and holds up her hand to knock on the door. I step out of the shadows and ask, “Looking for someone?”
She spins, eyes puffy, cheeks red.
“I, uh—”
“Look like shit, sweetheart.” Yeah, I have my own style of flirting. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to talk to Mr. Miller.”
“Yeah,” I say, casually walking over. “I don’t think I can let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I heard a rumor you’re trying to take him down on orders from Cohen, and that’s not going to happen.”
She blinks, eyes clearing. “Where did you hear that?”
“Cohen’s not the only one with spies, Emma.” I pull my hand from my pocket and smooth her wild hair. “He’s also not the only one with power at this school.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, a flare of defiance glinting in her eye. “The only one that counts.”
“Yeah, but I won’t make you grovel at my knees for the chance.” A flicker of a smile tugs at her lips. “Here’s the thing Emma, I’m not big into game play. I go where I want, I take what I want, and I protect the people close to me. Stay away from Miller.”
“Why are you worried about Miller?”
“Why are you so desperate for Cohen’s approval?” I counter.
She laughs darkly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Her head tilts. “You came in here with a crew, just like Trip. The rest of us? We’re little fish flopping around in the sand hoping to find a pool of water to get back into. Trip’s that pool of water for me and the other girls. A way to keep swimming.”
“He’s toxic and an abusive asshole.”
“Yeah, we all are, and I’m not going down because I, well, couldn’t go down. My fucking jaw locked up. His dick is hu—”
I hold up a hand. A flash of Eden from the video pops into my head and I don’t want to think about it. “I’ve got it.”
“I’ve spent my life on top of the food chain, and I’ll do what it takes to stay there. I’m not a stupid cunt like Camille or a lapdog like Denise. I’m the one that should be next to Trip. I fucked up and failed his little test. So yeah, I’ll do what it takes to get back in the game even if that means screwing with Miller, and whatever challenge comes next in the contest.”
I look at Emma and I see shades of another stubborn girl I know. “Take Miller off the table,” I tell her. “That’s not going to happen. He’s protected.”
“It’s my only way back in.”
I touch her shoulder. “Sweetheart, there are ways to the top, but you don’t need to get there lying on your back. Definitely not for an asshole like Trip Cohen, because let me make something clear, obligations to him will not end with that contest. He’ll own you and there’s no escape.”
She looks at me helplessly. “And what? Become a nerd? A loser?”
“Do I look like I hang out with losers?”
“You’re offering me protection? A place at the table?” She narrows her eyes. “Is this just a way to get me into that foursome you have going on?”
“That group is closed.” My eyes flick over her shoulder at Dorian’s apartment. Well, mostly closed. “But you’ll notice there are other people in our circle, and nothing is required of them but loyalty.”
She stands before me in the freezing cold, weighing her options. I give her time because I know it’s not an easy decision. No easier than it was for us to choose to come here in the first place. Making deals is hard. Trusting others is harder.
She juts her chin and says, “I’m in—on one condition.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“If you take Trip Cohen down, I want to be there when it happens.”
29
Eden
Truth or Dare.
It’s like every teen movie I’ve ever seen wrapped up in entitlement, lacquered nails, and teased hair.
Rochelle gathers everyone into a circle, with some people up on the couch and others on the floor. Morgan and Stella don’t look the least bit concerned, but this is probably the norm in their life of sleepovers and summer camps.
We didn’t play truth or dare in The Park. Just walking down the street was the dare. Looking in the mirror was the truth.
I pour myself an actual cup of punch and take a seat on the floor between two girls with sparkly blue eyeshadow.
Rochelle places full soda bottle in the center of the circle. “Everyone knows the rules. When it’s your turn, you can pick truth or dare. If you pick truth, you have to answer honestly. If you pick dare, you have to do it.”
“What happens if you don’t want to do either,” I ask. All eyes shift to me.
“We’re from Sparrowood, Eden, we’re not afraid of anything.”
She has a point, by the time everyone in this room graduates they’ll be hardened bitches.
Rochelle spins the bottle and it lands on the girl across from her.
“Truth or Dare?” my roommate asks.
The girl wrinkles her freckled nose. “Truth.”
“What’s the most embarrassing moment in your life?”
It’s a softball…sort of. The girl squirms under the pressure, but finally says, “I got my first period in the sixth grade while we were on a field trip to the art museum. It wasn’t just a trickle or anything but a full rager. I had on a school uniform and it dripped down my leg into my white socks. People called me Carrie until I changed schools.”
“Yowza,” Rochelle says. Stella and a few other girls nod.
It’s her turn to spin the bottle and it lands on Marissa. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“What’s your best feature.”
Ah. Even I know this is a trick question. Whatever you say will be considered a brag, but Marissa apparently is as tough as she seems because she says, “My lips.” Then winks. “Or at least that’s what Trip said.”
The circle dissolves in understanding laughter. The four older girls meet eyes. I fight a gag.
Marissa reaches for the bottle and spins. It lands on Stella.
“Dare,” she says, without even waiting to be asked.
The younger girl’s eyes light up and sea
rch the room. They land on the bottle. “I dare you to give that bottle a blow job.”
Stella rolls her eyes. She’s been dating Steve for two years. I’m sure she knows her way around a dick. That said, she puts on a show, wiping down the bottle and then getting to work. She licks down the top, her tongue wide and flat, using her hand to massage the base. It’s an impressive display and I’m pretty sure a few of the girls are taking notes. As she fake reaches the climax she shakes the bottle as hard as she can, then unscrews the cap, while keeping it in her mouth. Soda sprays everywhere, shooting down her throat and lips, and she starts laughing so hard she almost gags.
The whole room, including myself, gives her a standing ovation as she sits covered in sticky soda. “Well done,” Rochelle says, approvingly. “You’re welcome to go clean off in my room and change. But spin the bottle first!”
The game livens up from there. A mixture of truths and dares.
Where was your first kiss?
Have you ever cheated on a test?
Can you drink a whole cup of punch in one swallow?
Are you a virgin?
Rochelle shows us all her best trick, which is taking off her bra with no hands, and one girl burps the alphabet.
When the bottle it finally lands on me, I brace myself for the question. “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth.”
The girl, Serena or something, asks, “What really happened with Trip Cohen? Did you want to do it, or did he make you?”
I knew I wouldn’t get out of this game unscathed, but Rochelle set this up on purpose, forcing everyone to be vulnerable. Including me.
“The Trip situation is complicated. He had some information I wanted and there was a cost. I agreed to pay it.”
“Did you know he was recording you?” another girl asks, looking at her knees.
“No. And it was supposed to be a secret.” A few girls shake their heads, knowing I’d been done wrong. I don’t like being seen as a victim.
“What was it like?”
“Gross. Demeaning.” I grimace. “A little exciting. That’s the problem with guys like Trip. They’re compelling and disturbing and push you to uncomfortable places. I went in there willingly, but by the end I hated myself. I didn’t just hurt myself, I hurt others too, and I regret it.” I look around the room. “Trust me, there’s no deal you can make with Trip that’s worth it.”
I reach down and spin the bottle, there’s no way to force it to land where you want, but fate gives it a nudge. It lands on Marissa. Our eyes meet.
“Tell me about the contest.”
She sets her jaw and looks to the side. “I can’t.”
“You can. We’ve all told embarrassing things, secrets and worse.” My voice is firm. “Tell me about the contest and the pins.”
She picks at the carpet and every eye in the room watches her. “The seniors set it up, you know the ones.” She doesn’t want to name names, but I will.
“Trip. Adam. Phillip. Mitch.”
She doesn’t react but other girls in the circle nod.
Serena adds, “And Denise.”
Of course.
Marissa gains some courage and says, “We all agreed to enter. At the beginning we were given one of these pins. A sparrow. Each week we have a challenge. It starts with the guys and ends with Trip. He gets the final vote on if we get to stay in the competition or not. There’s some kind of complicated point system. If we get kicked out, we lose our pin.”
“What kind of challenges are these?” Morgan asks. She, Stella, and Rochelle are watching closely.
“It started easy. Just making out. A hand job. Then a blow job. Last week it was a blow job with swallowing.” She looks at Stella. “You would have passed with flying colors.”
Emma implied to Adam she hadn’t been able to swallow and got kicked out.
“And this week?” Rochelle asks, her voice laced with anger.
“After the party we’re supposed to meet up for the next round. They’ll split us girls into pairs. They’ll watch us make out and jerk off in the process. Whoever makes them come the hardest, and farthest, keeps their pin. The couple that fails, gets the boot.”
“You’re kidding?” I say, completely grossed out. “That’s just—”
“Fucking typical,” Rochelle says.
“So what’s the point of all this? What does the winner get?”
Marissa shrugs. “They’ll get bragging rights. A seat at the popular kid table for the rest of the year. A chance at taking over for Denise when she’s gone.”
“So power,” Stella says.
“Yeah. Power.”
“Even if it comes through them degrading you and using you for their own pleasure?”
Her eyes meet mine and they’re filled with something hard and accusing. “How did you get your power, Eden? They almost drowned you in the pool that night. Not all of us have boyfriends—three of them—that have our backs. Hawk nearly killed Luke for you. Then when you got played by Trip, when he got you down on your knees, they did it again. The rest of us do not have that kind of support. We’re on our own, and this is how the game is played. You know that, and frankly, you’ve got no room to speak.”
I’m not ready to let this go. “I am lucky to have the guys in my life, but that didn’t come easily. I had to earn their trust and support. My power comes from stepping out of the game. I’m done. I’ve told him so, and that’s why he’s moved on to you. I apologize for that. Last semester he was too focused on me to bother anyone else, but I can’t be a shield forever. Not if I want to survive.” I look around the circle, meeting as many eyes as I can. “You’ve got to step out of the game, too. You can, but it’s hard. And it sucks, and yeah, you may lose status, but you won’t lose power.” I touch my chest. “That shit comes from inside. Own it.”
I stand, effectively ending the game. I start to turn but look back down on them.
“Those pins? They’re no better than a brand. It’s telling the school and anyone else around that you’re marked.”
Morgan, Stella, and Rochelle stand with me, united from everything we’ve been through.
“Go to the party tomorrow night and have a good time,” Rochelle says, “dance with a boy your own age, and after? If you need a safe place? Come find me. I’ll be your Sawyer Hawkins.”
My friend’s words bring tears to my eyes. She’s come a long damn way in a short period of time. We share a look and she winks. I may not be able to save these girls, but I helped save Rochelle, and that’s worth everything else.
30
Hawk
The boys that show up for the gaming night are younger, and it’s not hard to sense the combination of awe and wariness when they step in the room. Theo’s friendly enough and it’s probably good that Gray has left on some Eden-encouraged task—the three of us together are intimidating.
“Here,” Theo says, not taking his eyes off the game. Theo’s penchant for addictive behavior doesn’t stop with drugs. Video games, swimming, Eden. Everything he does, he goes all-in. It’s not really a surprise his brain latched on to chemicals with a death grip.
“There’s food on the counter, soda in the refrigerator.”
“No beer,” one kid asks.
“This room is clean.” I hold his eye. “Always.”
“It’s probably better you don’t drink, Patrick,” his friend says, sitting on the floor. He picks up a controller. “Your hand-eye coordination already sucks.”
“Shut up, Max.” But Patrick looks pretty pleased when he finds an energy drink in the refrigerator and a box of beef jerky on the counter.
More boys pile in the room and other than some trash talk, it’s pretty uneventful, until Patrick impales a warrior on a pike, then beheads him and Max laughs, “Maybe you need to get rid of Cohen like that.”
“It’d probably take a beheading,” he mutters, “that bastard is like a cat, nine fucking lives.”
“Is Cohen giving you problems?” I ask, leaning back in my seat
.
The guys in the room either stare at the screen or glance at one another. Max shakes his head. “It’s nothing, man.”
“We should tell them.”
Theo eyes drag away from the screen. “Tell us what?”
“Cohen. He’s locked down all the pussy in our class.”
I frown. “What?”
“The girls. They’re all in this contest vying for his attention.”
“What does that have to do with you?” Theo asks.
“Because he has some rule that they can’t have anything to do with any other guys.”
“No dating?”
Max shakes his head. “Nope.”
“What about the dance?” Theo asks.
“Even that,” Patrick says.
As much as I want to say I can’t believe Trip is doing this, I can. He’s that much of an asshole. “That’s bullshit.”
“Yep,” Max says, making a jerking motion. “Things are getting desperate in the sophomore class.”
“What’s worse is they want us to pay to see them.”
“Pay?” I ask, feeling uneasy. “For what?”
“Videos, selfies, photos.”
Theo grimaces. “You guys need to stop buying that shit. It’s the only way to make them stop.”
“Not the only way,” I say, scratching my chin. “You know Eden Warren?”
“Your girl?” He looks between the two of us, his wariness returning.
“Yeah, she’s with the girls from your class tonight, trying to put a stop to this contest.”
“I don’t know, man,” Patrick says. “They’re in deep. Cohen has a way of manipulating them. It’s intense.”
“Yeah, but Eden’s tough as nails and convincing as hell.” I reach for my controller again. “You need to sack up, because tomorrow night you need to be ready to get them back.”
31
Eden
Tradition holds, and the junior class decorates for the sophomore Valentine’s dance.
I haven’t been in the ballroom since the fall when the academy held the fundraiser. That night had been a whirlwind of emotions—the first time I saw the boys dressed in nice suits, the first time I’d worn a formal gown. That was the night I realized I had feelings for Dorian, and the night Hawk kissed me before the fight.
