by L. A. Sable
And then I’m falling through the air.
I hit the water with a hard splash as pain rockets through me like a gunshot. My limbs freeze as I sink under the water. When I involuntary inhale on a sharp cry from the pain, my mouth immediately fills with water, choking me. But I can’t take a breath if I can’t get my head above the water. My mind frantically urges me to swim to the surface, but whatever connection there’s supposed to be between my thoughts and my body isn't there.
The tingling shots of pain running down my arms and legs are the only indication that I’m probably not paralyzed. A burning sensation tears up my lungs as I continue to hold my breath and try to fight off panic.
But I’m going to pass out, I realize as my back spasms painfully. Then I’m going to drown to death in service of a stupid high school prank. Darkness threatens at the corners of my vision as the burning sensation moves up from my lungs and into my head.
I’m going to die.
Strong arms pull me out of the water and lay me out on the concrete at the side of the pool.
“Nobody touch her,” I hear Mr. Cardill shout.
I try to speak but nothing but a wet cough emerges. My throat burns from the sudden rush of precious oxygen. As my vision clears, Mr. Cardill’s face hovers over me, the florescent lights on the ceiling above creating a sort of halo around his head.
There’s a joke in there somewhere about guardian angels.
His face moves closer and I freeze in shock, even as sensation has started returning to my limbs. For one terrifying second, I think he’s about to give me mouth-to-mouth but his hands are moving over my body as he checks me for injuries.
“Don’t move,” he says to me as a crowd gathers around us.
“I’m okay,” I insist, trying to sit up even as he forces me back down. The pain has receded which means that embarrassment is inching back in to take its place. And not just embarrassment but anger at myself and the Diamonds. How could I have been so stupid? It makes perfect sense that Grace had insisted on using the lowest platform, then spent so much time up there without even completing a dive. She’d put something on the board to make it slippery in hopes that I’d fall. And I didn’t have to guess whose idea that had been.
Bitches.
“Just move slowly.” Mr. Cardill’s voice is full of genuine concern. “You could have a spinal injury.”
“I really don’t think I do.” And I would rather be paralyzed than spend another moment in this particular situation. “I’m already feeling better. I can get up.”
“Try wiggling your toes and fingers first.”
I do what he asks, ignoring the small amount of pain that shoots up my back. “See, everything works.”
But he still doesn’t seem convinced.
Chloe stands just ahead of the gathering crowd of swimmers, an expression that I can only describe as malevolent twisting her features. Mr. Cardill’s back is to her so he can’t see the way she looks at me. And something tells if he turned, her expression would morph into one of concern in an instant. As I continue to stare at her, trying to figure out what could make a person this terrible, she silently mouths something at me, a dark light in her eyes.
Next time.
A shiver works its way over my body, and not just because I’m soaking wet and lying on cold tile. She could kill me and not even feel bad about it.
When I try to move into a sitting position, my back practically shrieks in protest. I can’t stop a gasp of pain.
“I’m taking you to the health center.” Without waiting for a response, Mr. Cardill hefts me up in his arms as easily as a sack of flour. I try to protest but he ignores me and heads determinedly towards the double-doors.
“You’re overreacting, Mr. Cardill,” I say, voice a little frantic. How is this happening? “Really, I’m fine.”
“You need to be checked out by the nurse. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Taut muscles cord in his arms as he shifts my weight while turning us sideways to get through the door. The wall of his chest is rock hard and I can only be thankful that he can't see my face from this angle because I know it's a bright red.
I haven’t figured out yet how this turned into the best and worst day of my life.
The nurse is concerned, but clinical, once we arrive at the health center. She has me lie on a bed and makes me move pretty much every muscle in my body while she watches closely.
“Looks like you tweaked your back pretty hard, but I don’t think you did any serious damage.” She moves to the little cart in the corner and opens it. “I can’t offer you anything stronger than aspirin unless we send you to town to see the doctor.”
“I don’t need to see the doctor,” I tell her, just wanting to forget this whole thing ever happened. “Aspirin works.”
She hands me a little plastic cup of water and packet of pills. “Take these and stay here for a bit. I’ll check in with you again in a few minutes.”
I watch her disappear into the back room and realize with a start that Mr. Cardill is still standing in the doorway. He looks totally out of place in his warm-up jacket and swim shorts.
“I’m better now, really,” I say, giving him a wan smile. “You don’t have to worry. I promise that I can still walk.”
“Good.” His gaze is intent as he watches me for a moment too long, as if there’s more he wants to say. Eventually, he lets out a little sigh and looks down at the floor, hiding his expression. “If you need anything and I mean anything, you let me know, okay.”
I get the feeling that there’s another layer to this conversation that I’m missing, full of the things he won’t put into words.
“Yeah, got it.” It could be entirely in my head, but for a minute it almost seems like something passes between us — an awareness. I don’t know what to make of it. “Thanks, Mr. Cardill.”
“Call me Liam,” he says, so quickly that I almost miss it. A sheepish expression immediately comes over his face as if that wasn’t what he would have said if he’d thought the words through for a bit longer. “Just when no one else is around. And remember what I said, I’m here if you need me.”
He’s out the door before I can think of a response, which is good because my mouth hangs open for a minute after he leaves. My brain needs the time to catch itself up to what just happened.
Nothing about this place seems completely real.
The sound of a curtain on plastic hooks being pulled aside is my only warning before a sardonic voice floats over me. “Do we have a little prep school Lolita on our hands?”
One of the twins smirks at me from a bed across the room, somehow I hadn’t noticed that the curtain was pulled when Liam carried me. But this is what happens the moment that I let my guard down.
I look a little closer, glaring at him as I try to ignore the suddenly frantic beat of my heart. The twins are identical, but even with only a few weeks of interactions there are obvious differences.
“Lukas,” I murmur, voice neutral. “Always a pleasure.”
Eyebrows the color of a dark red wine shoot up into his forehead. “Lucky guess.”
“It wasn’t luck. Your brother has a better haircut.”
To my surprise, he laughs. “Fair enough.”
“And I’m not a Lolita. Mr. Cardill is just worried about me because I was nearly paralyzed.”
“I thought it was Liam to you?”
“Did you want something?” I ask, annoyed at the knowing smile on his face.
“Almost paralyzed, huh? You look okay to me.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes because the movement will just give me a worse headache than the one I’m already dealing with. “You should ask your girlfriend all about the dangers of greased-up diving boards.”
“Ah.” He has the nerve to smile, silver eyes flashing in the low light. “I’ve heard that the two of you have been butting heads a bit.”
Butting heads? That’s not exactly what I would call literally trying to kill me, but oka
y.
“You know what’s the worse than the classic bitch girl? The guy who acts like he can’t see any of the horrible things she does.”
“I know who Chloe is.” Any signs of mirth disappear from his features and his expression becomes very carefully blank. “And I know who I am. You’re digging into things that you can’t possibly understand.”
I suppress a shudder at the darkness in his tone that I try to ignore. “Well, you’re only as good as the company you keep.”
“Good point, what does it mean when no wants to be anywhere near you in the first place?”
“I have friends.”
“You have one friend. For now.”
Something about the way he says it makes me stare into his face, searching for whatever other information might hide in the crystalline depths of his eyes. But it’s like staring into a prism, constantly refracting and reflecting the light until I can’t tell what’s him and what’s simply my own reflection.
I don’t want to admit how uneasy he makes me. Not just because he’s on the shortlist of hottest guys I’ve ever seen in my life, but I can’t fight the feeling that he’s looking through me with those unnatural eyes, seeing things that aren’t meant to be seen. “Why are you even here?”
He holds up a hand and waggles his fingers. “Hangnail.”
“Right.”
Lukas tilts his head to the side, gaze frankly assessing. “Not bad, better than I expected. Chloe made it sound like you were deformed under your school uniform.”
And then I remember that I’m still only wearing a swimsuit.
I pull the sheet over my thighs as my skin heats, even though I know he’s already gotten a pretty good look. “Just stop talking to me. In fact, feel free to leave at any time.”
“Has Bellamy hit that yet?” There’s laughter in his voice, but his face remains perfectly neutral. “I assume not. He doesn’t get this pissy unless he hasn’t gotten his rocks off in a while.”
“You can explain at any point why he hates me so much. Or do you people just not need an excuse to be assholes?”
“That last part is definitely true.” Lukas leans forward to rest his elbows on his thighs then holds up his chin with one hand. He watches me with the sort of fascination that most people give to an exhibit at the zoo. “You don’t belong here. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?”
“This last little stunt could have killed me.”
“If Black Lake is too much for you, then you should leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t tell him that I don’t really have a choice because there’s no other place for me to be. And I don’t run just because things are hard. “Make sure and let Chloe know for me.”
Lukas shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? I like that.”
My hands clench in my lap, partially from nerves but mostly because I’m sick of feeling so knocked off balance. “Why are you even talking to me?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
“And you’re not calling me Goldie.”
He shrugs again, mercurial expression shifting as he tilts his head to the side. If I didn’t know better, it would be easy to convince myself he was some sort of trickster god sent to earth to torment lesser beings. “I’m not big on nicknames.”
“How refreshing.”
Deciding I’ve had exactly enough of this conversation, I grab the end of the curtain near the side of my bed, intending to pull it closed. I’m going to take a nap until the nurse clears me to go back to my room. “Nice talking to you.”
“You going to the party this Friday?” he asks abruptly.
Every cell in my being urges me to ignore him, but I can’t fight the surge of curiosity. “What party?”
“There’s going to be a big blowout by the lake, last big event before voting closes on Inner Circle. You should go, while you still have a chance. The lake will be off limits for you once you're a Proli.”
I don't exactly appreciate the reminder that I'm the least popular person in this entire school. The curtain is clenched so tightly in my fist that it’s making my fingers ache. “What do you care?”
“I get bored easily. And whatever else you are, you’re not boring.”
“So I should subject myself to public humiliation for your amusement? Sounds like a great time.”
Lukas abruptly gets up and shoves his hands down into his pockets. Everything about him just screams nonchalance, as if nothing we’ve said to each other matters at all. “You’ve only got two choices here. Curl up and die, which you seem to have a pretty good handle on. Or…” His gaze roves over me again and even with the sheet covering my body, I feel practically naked under his frank assessment. “Stand up and fight. Either way, I’m in for a show.”
Without waiting for me to respond, Lukas is already out the door and whistling a jaunty tune that carries down the hallway long after he’s gone.
I won’t pretend that I understand anything about his motives and I assume that he’s just hoping to get a front row street for the next time that somebody makes a fool out of me. But at least one thing has become crystal clear. The bully boys and girls of Black Lake Prep don’t have respect for much, but there is something that they will all have to pay attention to.
Power.
And I’m going to take mine back.
Chapter 11
“Are you sure about this?”
I’m standing in the middle of my room in front of the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, critically studying my reflection. Trish sent me a Visa gift card as a back-to-school present and I’d used the entire thing to buy a dress online, specifically for this party by the lake.
For once, I actually don’t hate my reflection in the mirror. The mini-dress I’m wearing is made of a gold fabric that shimmers slightly under the light with flutter sleeves and a pleated skirt. I look like an updated version of a Greek goddess.
“I’m sure that I’m going to this party,” I say, watching as my own lips move in the mirror, admiring my expert application of the matte lipstick that’s the same berry color as the polish on my nails. “I only get to be in high school once. I’m not going to let the Diamonds keep me from experiencing anything.”
“Haven’t you had enough?”
There’s no such thing as enough. I won’t let myself spend the next two years living in fear of a bunch of high school jerks. “You think it’s better to stay here alone? Everyone will be at this party, you said so yourself. If I don’t go, I’m basically saying that I want to be at the bottom of the totem pole.”
Charlie chews on her bottom lip hard enough that it’s a wonder she hasn’t drawn blood. “If you’re sure.”
“I absolutely am.”
I’ve always been a fan of makeup, even though I don’t wear it very often. But the explosion of colorful tubes, bottles and eyeshadow palettes that’s scattered across my bed, just makes me feel happy. I’d kept most of it under the sink in the bathroom so it’d been missed by Chloe’s rampage of my room. And I plan to put all of my skills to use tonight.
She still looks like she wants to convince me to hide under my bed, but decides not to argue anymore. Her gaze coasts over the multiple beauty implements. “Oh, can I borrow this lip gloss? I love that color.”
“Sure.” I hand it over and grope for my liquid eye pencil. The swoop of my eyeliner will be sharp enough to cut.
“So, I know of at least two girls who will definitely be Prolis this year,” Charlie says, as she leans over the mirror to apply the gloss. “Evelyn Richards has a binge-eating disorder that led to a rat infestation in her room from all the food she hoards. And Shiva Patel’s father just got ousted from his job, so everyone’s talking about how they’re going to lose their house. I’ve already heard of people planning to vote them down.”
Not for the first time, I marvel at the shallowness of it all. It’s not like I think the world is some utopian paradi
se in which everyone gets treated equally, but the points system of the Inner Circle is just mercenary. And none of them seem at all bothered by it, not even Charlie which surprises me the most. Girls like Chloe are probably trained from birth to only think about themselves, but I would have thought there’d be more of a disconnect for Charlie.
“What’s your family like?” I ask.
Charlie seems to ponder that question for a beat too long, as if she’s hesitant to answer. “Nothing special. My mom stays at home with my little brothers and my dad works as a security guard. We’re just normal, I guess.”
“I’m sure they’re happy you’re here.”
“Yeah.” She shrugs it off, but makes a bit show of bending back over the mirror to apply another coat of lip gloss. “Speaking of family, have you talked to your mom recently?”
“A few days ago, yeah. She’s starting to go a little stir crazy playing housewife to Carter Bellamy. Apparently, the aging socialite types aren’t really her style. Now that she’s not working, I think she needs to find a hobby.”
“But things are going well, between her and Carter I mean?”
“I assume so. She still talks about him like rainbows shoot out of his butt, so there’s that. She’s had so many bad relationships in the past that it’s weird to see her actually happy.”
The reflection of Charlie’s eyebrows goes up in the mirror. “Bad relationships?”
“The world has its fair share of losers, that’s for sure.” Trish hasn’t always had the best taste in men and the worst of them was pretty bad. I don’t like to think about that too much because I’ve spent too many years trying to forget. “But Trish doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Do you always call your mom by her first name?”
“Yeah, it started as a joke when I was a kid. Whenever some asshole guy would try to impress her by making a big deal about how we look more like sisters than mother and daughter, I’d spend the next week calling her Trish just to be annoying. Eventually, it sort of stuck.”
