I find her smile infectious. “I’m Calla Lily Ryan, but you can call me Callie.”
Ivy laughs. “Weird names unite. You and I now have a special bond because our parents were probably high when they named us. Welcome. Do you know where the powers-that-be have stored you here?”
“Uh…” I shake my head. “I haven’t gotten a chance to familiarize myself with the place. My supposed Student Guide ditched the crap out of me in order to hang out with her hot boyfriend.”
Ivy laughs again, and this time it encompasses the entire room. My own lips widen in response.
“I see you’ve met Piper Harrington and Chase Stone,” she says. She tucks a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear as she rounds the desk. “Briarcliff’s benevolent rulers.”
“Yeah. They’re super nice.”
Ivy responds with a knowing smile, then peers at my bag. “Did you get any sort of class roster or pamphlet or … anything to help me guide you to your room?”
“If I did, Piper has it all and she’s not about to give it up.” I reluctantly add, “I’m her new roommate.”
Ivy gasps, and it’s so sudden and visceral that I laugh. “She’s as bad as I think she is, isn’t she?”
“Worse,” Ivy whispers, but she manages to collect herself. “But that at least tells me your room number. C’mon. I’ll show you.”
I follow Ivy to the inlaid brass elevators. At this point, I should be used to the luxury afforded to these high school students, but who knows if I’ll ever be.
Ivy steps in, and I note she’s pressed the third floor—the top.
“Do you live here, too?” I ask.
“Nah. I’m what they call a ‘charity case.’ I live with the free rides and in a modest dorm down the road. Richardson Place.”
I raise my brows. “You’re here on scholarship.”
“Yeah.” Ivy's gaze narrows. “Is that a problem?”
I lift my hands. “Nope. I’m impressed. It must take sizable brains to get a scholarship to a school like this.”
Ivy's expression softens, and she sighs as the doors open to the third floor and we step out. “You don’t know the half of it. But don’t fret,” Ivy says, “I only had to sacrifice two young goats and one human baby to the ruling class in order to do it.”
At my stunned silence, Ivy adds, “Too dark?”
“No,” I say with a chuckle. “You’re weird. I like it.”
Ivy spins around and starts walking backward. One corner of her mouth lifts when she says, “I just might like you, too.”
There’s a sudden bounce in my step, led by this girl with fairy-light hair, dusky eyes, and a tinkling laugh. We share a smile, and I follow her, thinking I might’ve just made a new friend at this peculiar, intimidating new school.
5
Ivy stops at a wooden door with a brass number plate marked 303.
“This is you,” Ivy says, sweeping her arm out like a game show hostess.
Then she blinks at me. Waiting.
I roll to the balls of my feet. “I … don’t have a key.”
Ivy balks. “Let me get this straight. Headmaster Marron told you to room with Piper but gave you no instruction? No key?”
“I guess he assumed Piper would do all that.” I let my bag’s strap slide off my shoulder. “I can wait around until she gets back, maybe in the sitting room I saw downstairs.” I pause, an unwanted image of Piper wrapped around Chase—this time, he’s naked—burrowing into my mind’s eye. “She has to come back at some point, right?”
Ivy purses her lips. “Jury’s out on that one.”
I hate where my mind goes, picturing Piper doing dirty things with Chase. I also hate that I’m responding to that image with everything but disgust.
Chase is sexy, so what? He’s also crude. And mean.
Ugh. Why do I also find that hot?
“You okay in there?” Ivy asks, tapping my temple for emphasis.
I exhale, hoping that any lingering sexual images of Chase blow out, too. “It’s been a long day.”
“I get it.” Ivy's forehead smooths in understanding. “As a front desk clerk, I’m not supposed to do this, but you have an honest face.”
Ivy pulls out a keycard, black and inlaid with a golden Briarcliff crest.
“You’re letting me into a student’s room without proof I’m allowed?”
Ivy laughs, the sound carrying down the hallway.
“Your face has been the talk of the school since we heard that a new kid was coming on such short notice. These people? They grow up together as soon as they’re out of the womb. Attend the same daycares. Go to each other’s parties. Screw each other. When fresh blood drips into their water, the sharks are alerted, believe me. You’ve been Googled, Facebooked, Instagrammed—all the things.”
“Err, I’m conflicted about that.”
That boulder in my gut twists its jagged edges at the thought that someone could’ve read about my mother.
“Like your feelings make a difference,” Ivy says, poking me with her elbow. Then she stills and takes a deeper look at me. “Your skin has lost a bit of color. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to offend. Me and my big mouth.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I try on an assuring smile. “I’m just not used to data scrapes on my life.”
“I wish I could say you have nothing to worry about.” But Ivy collects herself, then bounces on her toes with a grin. “Good news is, I recognize your face and have full confidence that you’re rooming with Piper, since she’s the only girl left without one.”
Ivy presses the master keycard into the card reader above the doorknob. She doesn’t knock before she swings the door open, which makes me question how often Piper is even around.
Hopefully never.
“Here you are,” Ivy says, then steps aside.
I lift my bag and walk forward.
My bag drops again, this time with a heavier thud.
It’s one large room with a shared bathroom and two bedrooms on either side. A twin bed sits in Piper’s, just out of view. There’s also a desk with attached bookshelves, a six-drawer dresser with a vanity mirror, but clothing is squished into every available space, dresses and skirts and shoes spilling out into the center room.
Despite the clutter, the rest of the space is insanely big—larger than anything I’ve ever lived in before my stepdad married Lynda. But that’s not what’s so disconcerting.
It’s when I turn to what’s supposed to be my room.
“Sheesh, we’ve been in school for a week. It looks like she’s lived here for years,” Ivy says behind me, eyeing supposed “shared” couch and all the clothing draped over it. She comes to a stop beside me in my bedroom doorway. “Huh. Where’s all your innards?”
“I was hoping you could answer that.”
My bedroom has identical furniture to Piper’s—a desk, a dresser, a bed, a closet. Problem is, there aren’t any drawers in the dresser or the desk, and I’m staring at an empty, wooden bed frame.
“I don’t see my luggage. Or a mattress.” I spin to face Ivy. Maybe I should’ve listened harder to Lynda about what she said I needed to pack for a rich school. “They didn’t expect me to bring a mattress, did they?”
“Heck no,” Ivy says, but her furrowed brow is telling me different. “I mean, no one does, unless they want their familiar six-k remote control mattress from home. Now that I think about it, there are quite a few of those…” Ivy frowns and stares up at the ceiling.
“Ivy, stay with me here,” I say. “I’m not the kind of kid who brings their own bed to school.”
“Then I dunno what to tell you, dude. Your half should be outfitted.”
And there’s my aha moment. “Piper.”
Ivy's realization follows suit. “She must’ve stolen everything.”
“But how? I just saw her, and the walk took me fifteen minutes.”
Ivy grows serious. “Don’t underestimate the power of Piper and her minions. She got on her phone the minut
e your back was turned. Her younger sister waltzed into Thorne House just before you, with some of her friends. I assumed it was to steal the coffee from the cart offered to seniors.” Ivy grimaces. “Guess I was wrong.”
I spin in a circle. “Piper got people to remove my shelves? Seriously?”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Ivy mutters, but before I can comment, she pulls her phone out and starts typing. “I’ll find it for you, don’t worry.”
I nod and pace around the room, my bag swinging at my side. I park it on the wooden slats of my bed frame.
“Look on the bright side,” Ivy says. “Because you’re on the top floor, you get the highest ceilings.”
I look up at the wooden beams, with two hanging light fixtures, and blink back tears.
Piper’s brief spurt of immaturity is nothing. I should be used to the feelings of an outsider by now.
I say to Ivy, lowering my chin once I’ve willed the tears away, “I think I’ll wait in the sitting room downstairs until my luggage gets here.”
“Good idea.”
“Yeah, assuming Piper hasn’t redirected it to the trash or something.”
“Probably a—oh, crikey.” Ivy breathes out. “That might be where it is.”
I ask after a resigned sigh, “Where’s the school dump?”
Ivy answers, but I’m wandering and don’t catch it. A shimmer on the kitchenette’s counter draws my attention. A black envelope rests there, embossed in gold and torn open. An unfolded letter sits near it, also matte black. It’s so at odds with the messy rainbow of colors of Piper that I’m drawn to it, my arm lifting of its own accord.
The letter begins with, Altum volare in tenebris…
“You won’t go it alone,” Ivy says, hooking my elbow in gentle understanding, “I’ll show you where the coffee cart is so we can be caffeinated while we explore the dump.”
We turn for the door, but stop when a voice says, “You seriously have a death wish, new girl.”
6
Piper stands in the doorway with Chase’s shadow looming behind her. Before I can speak, she storms over to where I am, eyes blazing, and rips the letter from my hands.
She shrieks, “Who the hell do you think you are to go through my things, you perv?”
Though my heart’s pounding at being caught, I respond mildly, “I’m the person whose things you dumped in the trash.” I flick pages of the letter Piper’s now holding. “Tit for tat.”
Piper bares her teeth. “You little whore—”
“Now, now,” a mild, low voice interjects. Chase comes up behind Piper, his head angled, his eyes sharp. “There’s no need to start a fight, is there, new girl?”
“I haven’t started anything,” I say, but I direct my answer to Piper, since Chase’s stare is causing goosebumps to spread down my neck. “All my stuff’s been taken. Including my damn bookcase.”
“Then there must be a mistake.” Chase settles his hand on Piper’s shoulder, drawing her to his chest while using his other hand to pluck the letter from Piper’s hand and smoothly pocket it. Piper maintains her glare, but her body relaxes against him, and she gives me a closed-mouthed smile, as if she’s won something I never had a chance of challenging her for.
“Your things got delayed at the airport, or, I don’t know…” Chase gives an exaggerated eye-roll, “…the additional car carrying your luggage was caught in traffic. I hear there was a horrible accident on 95.” Chase lowers his chin to address Piper, a slow, awful grin drifting across his mouth. “Terrible tragedy. Didn’t you hear, babe?”
Piper settles herself against Chase and smiles. “Totally.”
I glance between the two of them. “You expect me to buy that? There’s no extra car, and I didn’t come here on a plane.”
Chase’s grin fades, and a preternatural calm takes its place. “You must not have heard me, new girl. Your things got delayed. They’ll be along shortly.” Chase darts a glance at Ivy, who squeaks and drops the phone she was probably texting an SOS on. Then he centers back on me. “There’s no need to report anything missing.”
“But—”
“I’m telling you nicely,” Chase says, “to shut up.”
“And I’m demanding you return my things.” I cross my arms. “Or I’ll have Marron up here so fast—”
“Sweet, sweet new girl.” Chase reaches over Piper and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I jerk back, my expression hopefully communicating repulsion and not giving away the scary-fast heat that shot to my core the instant he touched me. “You have so much to learn.”
That scary-heat is now an inferno. I clear my throat, hoping I don’t choke on the intensity.
“Enough of this shit,” Piper says. “You’re trespassing. Get off my half of the room and go live in the hovel that is yours.”
“Bring me my stuff,” I retort.
“Find and collect it yourself,” she says.
“Callie, let’s just go,” Ivy says, pulling at my arm. “I can help you bring everything back up here.”
Piper laughs. “Enter the squeaky little church mouse. You’re always so helpful, aren’t you, Freebie?”
Ivy’s lips thin, but she doesn’t clap back, which is odd, considering the Ivy I’ve been conversing with is the complete opposite.
“Let’s go, Callie,” Ivy says again.
I don’t want to. These people don’t know that my whole life is packed up in those two suitcases. They don’t care, and it’s with a frustrated growl that I tear my attention away from them and follow Ivy out the door.
“Don’t be a Karen,” Chase says as I pass. “That is, if you’re hoping to survive more than a day here.”
I whirl, sweeping my arm in the direction of my room. “You two immature assholes can have your win. I’ve survived a lot worse than you.”
“Aw,” Piper says, faking a trembling lip. “Are you gonna cry, babe?”
“It’s so cute that you think we care about your life,” Chase adds, cocking his head.
My mouth works, but Ivy gets to me first. She grabs me by the elbow and drags me out.
“I’m saving you,” she says as we stumble into the hallway. “Before you get under their skin.”
The word fury doesn’t come close to describing what’s crawling under mine. “I don’t care.”
“Callie.” Ivy holds my shoulders and leans in close. “You do care. Do not get on their bad side, okay? Let them bat you around a little and get bored with you. It’s the only way.”
Ivy pulls me down the hallway toward the elevators, but when I risk a glance over my shoulder, I see Chase moving to stand in the center of the hallway, watching us, his hands tucked in his pockets, and his blazer flared out behind.
He catches my eye and winks.
7
We find my missing furniture exactly where I feared.
The Dumpster behind the dorms.
Automatic sprinklers from the neighboring acre of lawn cast their spray across the mattress propped against the giant, stinking canister, soaking the material to the point that when it dries, it will forever smell like mildew. My drawers are stacked haphazardly beside it, some cracked, others missing knobs because of all the manhandling they experienced during their brief travel from the third floor to here.
But that’s not the worst part.
Garbage bags were ripped, and their contents poured over my things. Spoiled food, rotten milk, used tampons, and the flat slugs of condoms drape over the contents of my suitcases, unzipped for all the putrid detritus to slip in.
“Christ on a cracker,” Ivy whispers beside me.
I run a hand through my hair, clenching my fingers against my scalp as I take stock of the scene.
What Piper—and Ivy—don’t know is, I’m not above searching through trash. There was a time I Dumpster-dived behind restaurants to collect their cast-off food when my mom was between jobs. It’s amazing, the fresh, untouched meals one can find in an NYC trash bin, but something tells me these girls would never
understand. My eyes grow hot with warning, but I bite down on the inside of my cheek, redirecting the pain.
“How are clothes cleaned around here?” I ask, hoping my voice is steady.
Ivy's expression becomes pained. “At Thorne House, they put their laundry in special fabric bags and leave it outside their door to be picked up and returned.”
I can’t imagine packing all my soiled clothes into a bag to have someone else pick through the mess, brimming with terrible hygiene.
I point at the pile of my shit. Literally. “Safe to say, my special Briarcliff laundry bag is in there somewhere.”
“Yikes.” Ivy bites down on her lower lip. “I guess that means your school uniform’s in there, too.”
“Yep.” My lips pop against the p.
“Off-campus laundry is Thorne and Rose House policy,” Ivy says. “At Richardson Place, we’re normal folk. We have a laundry room with washers and dryers. Coin operated, even.”
I breathe in deep. “I guess that’s where I’m headed, then.”
Ivy nods, and I sense her study of me. I won’t buckle beneath her gaze. I don’t want to see the pity there.
After a moment, where it’s only the sound of the sprinklers between us, she says, “I’ll get the luggage caddy. It’s around here somewhere. Then we can start stacking.”
A tug of guilt grows tight in my belly. “Ivy, thank you, but you don’t have to. You probably have class or somewhere to be. I can handle this.”
“Can you?” Ivy props her hands against her hips. “Because as a human being, I can’t leave you to this mess. Besides, I have free period the rest of the afternoon, hence why I took a shift at Thorne House.”
“Shouldn’t you be out front, then? I don’t want you to get fired because you’re helping me.”
“I’m absolutely positive the Briarcliff girls will be able to get themselves into their apartments without any help from me. I’m more of a mascot, anyway. Or a zoo animal. ‘Look at the charity case, working at a job just like the hired help. How cute and interesting to watch. Look at the way she signs people in and out. What a unique way to use one’s hand.’”
Rival (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 1) Page 3