by Tara Brown
My brother was brilliant and strangely good at acting. He was going to make a killer lawyer and an excellent coconspirator this summer.
My sister was an evil genius hell-bent on destroying the hierarchy that we were created and raised by.
And I was considered the good girl. No one would ever see this coming. Not from me at least.
Who knew that plotting Cait’s demise would be the thing that brought my siblings together in such a way?
Suddenly I felt strong and confident. I slipped my sunglasses on, realizing that I needed to not be recognized.
This was it.
Let the games begin!
Chapter Three
TEACHERS AND TRAITORS
Ashley
My fingertips still ached from typing the last of my final projects for the semester, even though it had been two days since I’d handed them in at the last minute, like always. Fortunately most of my professors were also last-minute people—honest ones who felt no shame in sharing that this was also their working habit. Being raised by two professors, I knew the hidden practices that most of them got away with, and their desperate need for a spark under their asses to get them going.
My mother was worse than my father, though both procrastinated until the very last second, then burned the midnight oil to complete whatever paper they were working on. My mother swore that all genius came in the wee hours of the morning when sanity was lost and the light was too dim to be distracted by details. And if I was being honest and unbiased, her work was better than my father’s. The rawness of it held poetry that my father’s didn’t.
I would never tell either of them that. She was smug enough, and his poor Scottish pride would never last through the insult. I’d be tried for treason and forced to submit to questioning, driven to the point of insanity while giving examples of her superiority.
No, that secret would go to the grave with me.
“You ready?” my roommate asked, holding up his controller.
“Yeah,” I said, contemplating calling my parents before we started an epic journey into the world of the undead, led by a corrupt man bent on redemption. The Last of Us was not the normal way college-aged men spent their last few days in dorms. But we weren’t ordinary guys, and end-of-year parties held no interest for either of us.
Jack, my roommate, was the picture-perfect version of a nerd and avoided all social settings at all costs. Human interaction made him sweat unnecessarily. And I couldn’t be bothered to care what self-exploitive bullshit was happening on campus. Which wasn’t a big deal; the other students in my program didn’t really like partying. Instead of cock-size contests or beer-chugging events, we robotics engineering students had our own version of underground fun, and it was by invite only.
“I’m gonna ring my parents before we start. Get any potential interruptions out of the way.” I grabbed my cell phone and stalked out to the hall for some privacy.
“Okay. I’m just going to load it and get us rea—” Jack shouted as I closed the door, cutting him off.
The phone rang after several seconds, as if stretching its reach just a little to get all the way across the pond.
“Hello?” My mom sounded tired for it being early in the evening.
“Hiya, Mum.”
She lowered her voice. “Darling, how are you?”
“Is everything all right?” My body tensed, waiting for bad news. A new thing for me. I’d never been a pessimist, but the last few months had been hard.
“Och, yeah. Everything’s fine.” Her tone suggested she was lying. “How was end of semester?”
“Fine.”
“And how’s wee Jack?” I knew she grinned when she spoke of him, always calling him wee like he was a little Scottish girl.
“He’s good. He’s heading back to Connecticut tomorrow, and I’m going to Providence the day after.” It would be weird, my parents not being there.
“Did you find something for the summer?”
“Not yet, but as soon as I get home I will. I’ll check the Post-it note board here tomorrow to see if anything came up. There’re always summer school kids looking for someone to do their work under the guise of tutoring or whatever.” I half smirked saying that to her.
“Ashley Michael Jardine!” she gasped.
“Who’s that?” My da’s voice popped up in the background. “Ya on the phone again?” he teased.
“No one!” she hissed, no doubt feigning anger for effect.
“Then who ya yammering on at?” He sounded gruff, as always.
“Oh, it’s that son of yours. Being a brat.” She conceded and handed him the phone.
“Son?” my dad barked into the phone. “Where ya at?”
“School, Da. How ya feeling?” I closed my eyes and tried so hard to sound normal, indifferent.
“Right as rain, lad. Your mother’s still a feisty wee thing, though. We’ve only been here two months, and she’s already trying to have the traitors come round for tea.”
“Oh, come on, Da. Ya know you’re in the land of Shakespeare. You have to let her win a little. And just because they’re English doesn’t make them traitors.” I chuckled, feeling elated that he was pulling her chain again.
“I’ll tell you”—he raised his voice, working at getting a rise out of her—“no bloody self-respecting Scot would ever consider themselves a Shakespearean expert.” He laughed, then lowered his voice. “Now have ya got a filly you wanna bring round when ya come for a visit?”
“No. I have too much going on this summer.” I didn’t want to say that I had to find a job. I couldn’t make him worry about me. He was a proud man, and being one of the walking wounded wasn’t easy for him. He hadn’t been unemployed in thirty-five years.
“Not too busy to come ho—here to this godforsaken place?” He’d nearly called it home, though it was to me. And Mom. He was the only one who fought it.
“Not too busy for that,” I assured him.
“Right, well, I’ll be expecting some of that smoked meat when ya come. Here’s your mother.” He handed the phone off without saying love you or goodbye. He was unconventional like that.
“Don’t listen to him,” she scoffed. “He’s loving it here. Been round to the teahouse every bloody day. He’s eaten more finger sandwiches in two months than I think he’s eaten in his whole life.” She lowered her voice again, obviously sneaking off. “If ya cannae come this summer, he’ll understand. We both will.”
“If he needs me, I’ll be there. Especially if things don’t go so well for him with the meds. Love ya, Ma. Take care of him. And don’t be too hard on him. He’s never been sick before.”
“He’s an old ox, and I’ll do what I like,” she snapped, but I knew she was taking better care of him than anyone could have. “Chat soon; don’t let it go too long. And don’t stay up all night playing video games. Go outside. Breathe fresh air.”
“Love ya,” I repeated, needing to get off.
“Love ya, Ashley. Behave yourself. Bye, dear.” She hung up and I sighed. It was going to be a weird summer, no mom or dad around, no robot wars, and no fun. I needed to earn as much as I could. Dad might not have wanted to admit it, but he needed me here, to work and help out. They’d gotten me through the first three years of school; I could help them get through the hardest year of their lives.
Putting my game face back on, I turned and entered the room, smiling when I caught the glare coming off Jack. “My mum says hi.”
“Did she call me wee again?” He rolled his eyes behind his thick glasses.
“She did,” I teased, and sat down, taking the controller for my turn.
“Well, tell her I said hi back next time you talk to her.”
“I will.” I started the game. “Let’s do this.”
We left our troubles behind, or tried to at least, and entered the world of the undead, ready to kick some serious butt.
Chapter Four
THE WALL
Cherry
The Post
-it wall was exactly what I expected, and yet I was still stunned when I saw the sea of yellow, pink, and blue notes.
It was almost creepy, like a real-life version of a Facebook page.
Random thoughts: When I eat cooked peppers, I get heartburn. WTF?
Strange questions with no answers: Who keeps turning out the lights in the girls’ bathroom by the coffee house lounge?
Different questions with answers linked to them, like the chain Andy had talked about:
Where is Professor Moon?
He ran away and joined a circus.
He’s Mrs. Moon now.
He got demoted to Harvard.
And then there were the random messages that I didn’t understand. Equations and coded messages.
My hands were sweating as I lifted my fingers to grab a Post-it note from the stack on the table. I chose yellow; it just seemed right—official. Like pink was too cute for this moment and blue wasn’t business enough.
As I stared at the blank paper, my mouth went dry.
I’d never done a mean thing in my life. I’d tormented my brother and sister, but this was a whole different level of cruelty. This was manipulating someone’s emotions. This was Cait’s territory.
Doubts and second-guessing flooded my brain, forcing me to let go of the Post-it note and back away.
“I knew you’d pussy out. Honestly, I’m not even ashamed of you anymore.” Andy stormed across the hall and snatched a pink Post-it note. He wrote and spoke the words at the same time. “Seeking young man to participate in a revenge plot. Position pays well—very well. Must be willing to live on location and forgo scruples while pretending to love a pretentious woman. Must hate rich elitism. Email [email protected] for more information.”
“Andy!”
He ignored me and glanced at the wall, tilting his head. “This won’t work.” He started rearranging the Post-it notes, tearing some down and moving others around until there was a blank space in the middle. He placed our note smack-dab in the center of the frame and stepped back, folding his arms. “That’s better.”
“You sure about this?” My insides were tense, desperately screaming at me that this was a bad idea.
“Stop being a little bitch, Cherry. Try to remember that deep down, you’re related to Ella and me, and this is exactly what Cait deserves.” He beamed at the Post-it note that was almost blinding me with its brightness. “It’s a revolution. You need to break free from her and the hold she has over you.”
“I’m no one’s little bitch,” I offered weakly.
“That’s my girl.” He patted me on the arm, then pulled, dragging me away before I could change my mind.
The ride home to New York was painful.
Andy rode up front with Hans, telling him about his last semester, like our driver gave a shit about second-year law school and Andy’s chances of passing the bar and his internship.
I sat in the back of the limo, deleting pictures from Instagram and Facebook and every other site I’d used to brag about being in love.
Love.
What a joke.
Sitting back, I sighed, staring out the window.
I hated it, but Andy was right. I was a pushover. Not just with Andy or Ella, but with friends and our mother. I was Cait’s doormat. She wouldn’t even have given a second thought to sleeping with my boyfriend, because she didn’t think anything of me. Nice, sweet, moronic Cheryl Kennedy.
Years of Cait’s mental abuse needed to end. I wasn’t just doing this for myself. I was doing it for every young woman who’d let Cait slither under her skin and control every aspect of her life.
My phone rang, interrupting my imaginary crusade. I glanced at the number, unsure of it, and answered. “Hello?”
“Jesus, Cherry. What the hell?”
“Griffin?” Wincing, I closed my eyes and lowered my voice. “Whose number is this?”
“I get a text, a fucking text, after six months? I know you’re a college girl, but this is beyond childish. You can’t even call me and tell me it’s over? Or God forbid, come to my house and—”
“I did!” I snapped, almost spilling the beans. “This isn’t a good time, Griffin. I can’t talk about this right now.” I didn’t want Andy to hear me.
“No, Cherry, we need to talk. You . . . you need to explain this to me. One minute you’re planning our entire summer and possibly future together, and the next you’re breaking things off with a cold fucking text and you won’t answer me? What changed?” He sounded angry, like he had the right to be. “Is it because you want to do Fling Club?”
“I told you, I can’t talk right now.” I turned my face to the back of the limo, speaking into the corner and praying Andy didn’t hear me. “I have to go.”
“You owe me an explanation! You need to get your ass over to my house—”
“I owe you?” And that was the end of my hold. It was the end of nice, sweet, moronic Cheryl Kennedy. She died in the limo on the ride home. Some parts of her died, at least. “I owe you?” I gasped, spilling it all out, all at once. “Have you lost your mind? I have done nothing but be the perfect girlfriend.” Words formed in my mouth and brain, but I tried to stop myself, choking mostly. “I came to your house—I bought you those sheets—I bought them, you fucking asshole! You were lying on your bed.”
“What?”
“I saw you—!” I hissed too loudly, earning a look from Andy and cutting my sentence short. I wanted to ask why it had to be one of my friends. No, she wasn’t my friend. She wasn’t my friend, and he wasn’t my boyfriend. “I can’t believe I told you I loved you.”
“Cherry—”
“No! From now on, you’ll leave me the hell alone. I never want to see you ever again. Goodbye, Griffin!” I hung up the phone and shuddered as all the awful feelings I was preventing from slithering out of me fought against the confines of my closed mouth.
“What was that?” Andy glanced back at me.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I lied, swallowing it all back down before the burning in my throat became angry tears and confessions and desperation. “It was a wrong number.” It was easily the worst lie I’d ever told. There was no way he and Hans had missed any of the conversation.
“Okay.” Andy gave me a look, one that suggested that we would talk about it later.
I turned away from the worry in my brother’s eyes. Him caring about me broke me more than anything. Between Andy and Ella, I was going to have to channel my grief into anger before we got home. I finished deleting pictures, chanting inwardly that I was over it. I was practically over it.
I would be over it very soon.
One day.
I would be over it one day.
But not today.
Today, I could be angry and bitter, and focus on how I was going to go from being Cait’s little bitch to making her mine.
Chapter Five
NOT OVER IT
Cherry
“Seven guys, and all of them can meet up for an interview this week.” Andy held up his phone as he strolled into the front sitting room of our town house. “We’ll pick one and be at the beach in a week.” He was too excited about this plan. He and Ella were texting every half hour with a new twist to add. I, on the other hand, was scared, and I didn’t even know all the details yet.
“Yeah, sure. Fine,” I agreed, hoping we could stop talking about it. My excitement had waned.
“Did Griffin call again?” Andy scrutinized me.
“No,” I lied. He’d been calling all day from different numbers, trying to explain his way out of it. It was like listening to a politician try to get out of trouble. It started with “It wasn’t me” and worked its way to “It might have been me, but I was very drunk,” then ended at “Whatever you think I did, it didn’t mean anything, and I still love you.”
I love you, but I accidentally had sex with another woman . . . because that’s not a big deal. Since I hadn’t told him whom I’d seen him with or what I’d seen, his guilt was ob
viously chipping away at him, because he’d confessed to a lot of things other than sleeping with Cait. In fact, he didn’t confess about her at all.
“You’re not meeting him, are you? If he even thinks about coming by, I will kick his ass in the foyer.” Andy snarled and headed into the kitchen, shouting back at me, “And Hans says he’s in as well. Hans hasn’t kicked anyone’s ass in ages. He’s due.”
“Fine,” I muttered, but he was already gone, off to make Mary, our chef, angry by messing up her kitchen to prepare his own nachos. She didn’t get that he was trying to do her a favor by cooking his own food, the same way he didn’t see that she worked because she needed the job.
My phone vibrated, making me dread looking at it. Seeing my mom’s number wasn’t that much better than seeing Griffin’s.
“Hey, Mom.” I tried to sound sunny.
“Hello, dear, it’s Mommy.” She started our conversations the same every time, still not getting the whole call-display thing or the fact that I’d already said her name. “I tried calling Andrew, but he isn’t answering, again.” She sighed, like whatever she was calling about was on par with a real-world emergency. “Marcia and Robert Weinberg’s head of household took ill and they haven’t had time to replace her, but they’re leaving for Europe for a month. You know how strange they are about staff living on the grounds.”
“Okay.” I was lost on why the hell she needed to tell me this. It was her thing, overexplaining to the point that you forgot why she called in the first place and ended up just agreeing to whatever it was she was about to ask.
“They’d like Andrew to stay there for the month to care for the house while he’s home. Can you make sure your brother calls me back? I’d hate to ruin their trip with needless worrying about who’s at their house.”
“Sure.”
“Are you all right?” Her tone changed ever so slightly, signifying that she suddenly cared. Any normal person would have missed it, the subtle shift in inflection. “You sound distant.”
“Yes, I’m just trying to get everything organized from the year.” I didn’t even know what that meant, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind.
