Stuck With The Four Hotties

I’m shaking, but I don’t say anything to her, not right now. What good would it do to cause a scene? Instead, I look forward and pretend I don’t notice Tristan making his way over to sit behind me.

Okay, so, I’ve been assigned to choir. Fine. That doesn’t mean I can’t try out for the academy orchestra. Without skipping a beat, I click the link to the sign-up form and start to fill it out when a hand clasps onto my shoulder. Glancing back, I see that it’s Harper again.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses, but I jerk from her grip and continue what I’m doing. “You try out for the orchestra, and I’ll kill you myself.” This time I do turn around, meeting the harsh blue of her glare. Tristan sits stoically beside her, his face locked into a mask of arrogance that seems impossible to break. But I saw it, during Parents’ Week, his perfect facade shattering into anger.

“Instead of threatening me, maybe you should ask why you’re so afraid of me?” I raise both brows, and then hit the submit button. Harper’s pink painted lips curl up in a snarl, but she doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to ingratiate herself to Tristan.

On the plus side, as class continues, and Becky plays her first piece, I realize it right away: I’m a lot better than her.

Good for me. I’ll have to be if I want to win that seat.

After classes are done for the day, I spend a few minutes looking for Miranda, and then give up, heading to The Mess without her. As soon as I walk in, I know something’s wrong.

Creed is lounging on top of a table like a lazy prince, all coiffed elegance, one leg straight out in front of him, the other bent at the knee. He’s resting on his left elbow, and in his right hand, he’s holding a stack of paper. His icy blue eyes lift to mine as soon as I walk in the door.

“There wasn’t a moment in middle sFhool that I didn’t feel like I was under attaFk. The siege Fame from all sides: an alFoholiF father at home, a mother who didn’t want me, and Flassmates who’d made it their personal mission to destroy me.” He pauses, the edge of his mouth curling up in a smile. His

captive audience turns to look at me, a knowing gleam in their collective gazes.

Without realizing it, I drop my bookbag to the floor. My knees feel weak, and my head swims. No, this isn’t happening. This Fan’t be happening.

Creed clears his throat again, and peers back down at his phone.

“For the longest time, I Fouldn’t figure out why they hated me so muFh. When I did, it nearly broke me. One day, when I was at my lowest, I sat down on the floor of the girls’ bathroom and I swallowed a bottle of presFription pills I’d stolen from my mother’s purse. IroniFally, the first and only time she’d visited me in years was going to be the last time she’d see me: that was my plan. Use her pills, end it all, let the pain fade away.”

My heart is thundering so fast, I can barely hear Creed reading my scholarship essay aloud to the room. Blood pounds in my ears, as loud as the ocean waves against the rocks outside. As Miranda said, I put my heart and soul into that essay. It was everything to me, the whole story of my life, and my ticket out of poverty, into Burberry Prep, into a future that didn’t involve train cars converted to houses or relying on my dad’s on-again, off-again welding work for food and clothing.

I felt like I’d been gutted, like pieces of me were lying on the floor at the feet of the Idols and their wicked Inner Circle.

Memories flickered in my head, memories of Zack bursting into the room and kneeling beside me, putting his fingers down my throat, making me throw up. If he hadn’t gone in there after me, I might very well be dead. And yet, he was one of the instigators, one of my worst critics. I’d never understood that, how he changed after that moment.

“Stop,” I choke out, but Creed just smiles bigger, Zayd grinning from ear to ear on one side, Tristan standing stoic and silent on the other. “Just stop.”

“Bullying nearly broke me, so muFh so that I tried again, just two months later. I tried to slit my wrists, and I failed at that, too.” Creed pauses as Zayd roars with laughter and Tristan crosses his arms over his chest. Game set and matFh, his face tells me. I can barely see Harper, Becky, and Gena standing beside him. They’re getting blurry. The whole room is swimming.

The door opens beside me and Andrew and Miranda walk in. Andrew catches me right before I fall, and I hear Miranda screaming at her brother. The last thing I see before Andrew scoops me up in his arms and carries me out is Miranda yanking the papers from Creed’s hand.

The others boo at her and throw napkins, but we’re already out the door, and Andrew is carrying me straight to my room.

“I can’t believe Creed would go that far!” Miranda chokes out, her face flushed as she paces in front of my bed. Andrew lays me down and gets me a cold rag, and a glass of water, sitting beside me and putting his hand on my leg. I cover his fingers with my own and squeeze. There’s no spark there, I think absently as I try not to throw up. What a random thought to have at such a horrible moment. Maybe I’m in some form of emotional shock?

“How did he get access to that?” Andrew asks, his voice quiet and dark.

He glances back at Miranda, and she shakes her head.

“I have no idea. My mom, probably. But how he got that from her, I don’t know. She’s fiercely prote

ctive of those essays.”