by Lucy Auburn
He's looking at me in bewilderment, face wide open, every emotion on display. It's so beautiful I almost laugh.
I try not to let my hand linger on the side of his arm, feeling the tense muscle that lives beneath his skin.
I try not to think about what it would be like to send him to his knees, begging for me, telling me he wants me—only to refuse him and tear him down completely.
I've already got my sights set on Tanner, after all. It's not like I can seduce more than one of the Elites. Even one is too much to hope for.
"Here we are!" The unfortunately named Rainbow returns with the paper towels, pushing her wide round glasses up the bridge of her nose, long wild hair flying around her in bouncy curls. She holds out a single roll of paper towels towards me, even as I drip onto the ground. "This should help."
It won't do a damned thing.
I'm on my own in this, I realize now. Just like I planned from the start.
Let the game begin.
Chapter 18
Somehow, miraculously, my social security number goes through without a hitch and no one finds out that I'm not really Brenna Cooke. That means I'm going to be busy the rest of this week helping Holly and the other girls plan this weekend's rock climbing trip—something I look forward to and yet fear at the same time, because it's one of the coed events, and I have no doubt that Cole will be there.
He won't mess with me the rest of this week, though. As art class filtered out, he grabbed my wrist again and brought me close enough to murmur, "You get a reprieve until Friday evening, but only because of Holly. She stays out of this, and so do the teachers and staff, or everyone finds out your secret. Clear?"
"Crystal."
I guess he decided that messing with me in front of the other students too much wasn't worth the risk. After all, Holly is popular, and she's sure to find out eventually if he slips up and makes one of his little "accidents" look too on purpose.
With Cole at least resting from his angry tantrums, that just leaves dealing with Blake as a TA and trying to figure out how to get close to Tanner. I haven't really seen Lukas since the tour—he was in my English lit class, but we didn't talk. I wonder if he'll take up the mantle of his friend's public feud with me or not; he didn't act like the type, but then again, none of them does on the surface.
It's up to me to find out what lurks beneath the genteel faces they show the public and expose the rot within.
The Rosalinds invite you to our first of many off campus events: A Day of Rock Climbing at Founder's Quarry! Enjoy pushing yourself to the limit, and meet your fellow incoming classmates from Hadley Hall.
Saturday, 2:00 PM. Bus loads at 1:30 PM. Pickup at the main gates.
Don't forget the SPF and the can-do-it attitude. Refreshments and climbing gear provided.
It seems counter-intuitive to start off our event schedule with a grueling outdoor sport, but Holly explained it succinctly when I asked.
"The rock climbing event is a Rosalind tradition. My sister did it three years ago, and countless Rosalinds have planned it for who knows how long before her. Nothing gets strangers to become acquaintances and acquaintances friends like a little danger and a lot of trust."
"So we'll be belaying for each other?"
The belayer keeps the climber from falling, though most rock climbing places also have backup auto-belays.
"Yep!" She beamed at me. "There'll be lockers at the event, so bring a change of clothes. You don't want to get your Rosalind shirt stinky."
The shirt she referred to is one I'm staring at now in the mirror of our half bathroom. It's a dark blue shirt with bright gold, shiny letters—Coleridge colors. But because I joined last minute, the only size they had was XXL, and it hangs off me comically.
I look like a tent in need of fumigation. The hem of the shirt is so long that it brushes the bottom of my shorts, making me look like I'm wearing the world's ugliest fast fashion dress. But there's no other option—I'm supposed to wear the shirt anywhere I'm representing the Rosalinds, take it off to change into athletic clothes when it's my turn to go rock climbing, then put it back on after I shower at the quarry.
Apparently being one of the Rosalinds is so special that we're meant to pretend like we don't sweat. Holly doesn't, I'm sure, or else Cole wouldn't be so eager to please her that he'd take a little break from his goal of tormenting me.
He must love her.
I'm getting distracted. Sighing at my reflection, I pull my hair up into a low, sloppy pony and make myself exit the bathroom.
"How do I look?"
Holly glances up at me from the ground, where she's sitting cross legged in front of a poster she's making that says REFRESHMENTS in sparkly gold paint. She stares at me, mouth opened slightly wide, and lets out an incredulous—and not at all ladylike—snort laugh hybrid.
"Oh no! This won't do. You look like someone shrunk you in the dryer on high."
"Well, it was the only shirt." I tug on the hem and the sleeves, as if that could possibly make things any better. "There's really no other option."
"Oh, but there are always options, Brenna. You'll see that now that you live with me. Here, take it off." She approaches me and grabs the bottom of the shirt, pulling it up towards my shoulders before I can protest. "Arms up—there we go. I can fix this."
I feel more naked than I've ever been, standing in a room with Cole Masterson's girlfriend in nothing but my denim shorts and a bra. Holly doesn't spare me a look, but then why would she, when I've got nothing to look at compared to her.
"Alright, so we just cut here, here and here... then a little bit of work at the hem..."
I watch, half in disbelief and half in awe, as Holly whips out a tiny sewing machine, sets it on her desk, and goes to work on the giant T-shirt. Within what seems like a mere minute, she's somehow turned it from a tent of a thing into a stylish, cropped tank top. It's still wide when I pull it over my head, but she fixes that by tying a little knot on the front using two extra pieces of fabric.
"There!" She stares at me, chewing on her lower lip. "Would you mind if I...?"
The way she gestures vaguely at all of me doesn't make it super clear what she means, but I get the gist. "Do whatever you need to do to make me look better than this."
So she has me flip my head upside down, and she combs my hair into a tight, high ponytail like her own. Then, once she's smoothed every single flyaway on my head, she grabs her makeup bag and tells me to sit down on her desk chair, in front of the mirror above her desk.
"I don't know..."
"C'mon. It's just a little eyeliner, some highlighter, maybe a bit of gloss. They don't let us wear the bright stuff, but you can play your features up." She's peering at my face so closely that I feel heat spread across my cheeks. "Those eyes of yours should shine. And you've got great lips."
I can tell that I'm not going to win this one, no matter what I say. "Lay it on me."
I close my eyes as she kneels in front of me. Her makeup brushes whisper across my skin, softly patting powders into my cheeks and forehead. Gloss is applied to the curve of my lower lip and the points of my cupid's bow. A fan brush hits the tops of my cheekbones, not that it'll do any good, considering how round my cheeks are. Holly then has me open my eyes and look up so she can line them with the sharp point of a black brush eyeliner.
"You can do the mascara yourself," she says, handing me a large, round applicator wand. "I don't want you to lose an eye."
Leaning forward, I open my eyes wide and push the brush against the base of my lashes, then wiggle it out. Her mascara, unlike mine, glides on without clumping.
When I'm done, I don't look like another person. But I look like me, except more. This must be what rich girls feel like all the time.
"See? It's nice." Holly smiles at me in the mirror. "You should get some makeup like this while we're off campus. They always give us a little time to shop after the events."
Thinking of the black card burning a hole in the deep lining
of my purse, I smile right back at her. "Yeah, definitely. Now I know what to buy."
Chapter 19
As I get onto the bus with the rest of the Rosalinds, my backpack feels extra heavy. It's not just the stolen credit card stuffed into the side pocket—that feels weightless every time Georgia Johnson glares at me, blonde Piper Lyons at her side, both of them laughing behind their hands. I have a secret stowed away in my backpack: revenge.
I'm going to have to wait to take it out, though. None of the four other Rosalinds can see it before I put my plan into action.
The fifth Rosalind, who I'm just meeting now, is Sasha Wong, daughter of Singaporean multi-millionaires.
"You must be Brenna." She eyes me up and down from beneath blunt-cut, fashionable bangs, her pink non-regulation lipstick sticking out against ice pale skin. "We haven't met yet—I was busy at auditions and rehearsals for the theater program. I'm Sasha."
"Nice to meet you." She has a firm handshake, her nails filed into soft curves. I have to look up a little into her bang-shadowed eyes; she's almost as tall as Holly, her hair twice as shiny. "I've heard you're an experienced rock climber."
She nods, a confident smirk on her lips. "I am, and then some. So if you need any guidance just let me know. I'll be giving everyone a crash course."
Since Holly is sitting at the front of the bus, Georgia hates me, and Piper seems to have joined in on that hate, I take a seat next to Sasha on the row opposite them. I can hear them whispering among themselves, giggling and laughing, no doubt making fun of me—my promise to seduce Tanner away from Georgia hasn't exactly paid off yet, after all, and she's probably gloating.
She won't be gloating for long.
The rock climbing site is an old, abandoned quarry an hour away from campus. During the trip, I get to know Sasha well, learning that she prefers decaf drinks, listens to J-pop—Japanese pop music—hates her stepfather, spends her summers in Singapore, and speaks five languages.
Sasha, meanwhile, learns next to nothing about me. Not that she doesn't try—unlike a lot of the selfish rich girls around here, she asks one question for every tidbit of info she tells me about herself. But I keep my answers vague and short, turning the conversation back to her, letting her talk endlessly about herself.
I'm not here to make friends or be well-known, after all. The less I say about who I am, the less I risk someone else figuring out what Cole figured out about me. Although staying vague about myself gets exhausting eventually, I feel obligated to at least try to talk to Sasha—she seems nice, and I won't last long in the Rosalinds if Holly is the only one of the group who doesn't actively loathe me.
It's a relief when we arrive at McKindale Quarry. Perched at the bottom of a section of earth that's been mined until nothing is left anymore, the rock climbing site's headquarters is a sprawled-out warehouse-style building. There's a climbing wall inside for newbies to practice on, but from what I've been told, the main event is climbing up the harshly carved walls of the quarry.
"This is it." Sasha nudges me in the side, practically bouncing in her seat as we pull up in front of the building. "Are you excited?"
Staring up at a head of short blond hair at the front of the bus, I answer, "Yeah, super excited," though not for the same reason as Sasha.
We get our stuff out of the overhead compartments, air conditioning blowing in our faces as we wait for the kids in the front of the bus to file out first. Double-checking the hidden package in the bottom of my backpack, I let Sasha go in front of me down the aisle, hanging back for a moment.
"Are you stupid, white trash?" I whirl at the sound of the voice right behind me, and stare down into Piper Lyon's perfect, cruel face. "We can't get out until you do."
"Sorry," I answer reflexively, immediately hating myself for apologizing. "I didn't know anyone was behind me on the bus."
She rolls her eyes. Beside her, Georgia lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Just be patient, Pipey. Brenna over here is slow—and I don't mean physically."
Raising my eyebrows, I wonder aloud, "What's next, the R word? Not that I think you wouldn't stoop to those lows, Georgia, but you might want to bring your insults into the 21st century. Some of us are a little evolved."
"Is that what you call threatening to steal my boyfriend?" She lifts her chin and smirks at me. "Yeah, that's right—Tanner and I have made it official. So don't you even try, you dirty whore. We both know you don't have the skills to take him."
I'd ask her how I can both be a whore and unskilled at sex, but the bus is nearly empty now, and I've got to move fast if I want to make my plan work.
"See you later, Georgia. Good luck using sex to hold onto the boy you love. I'm sure that will work long term."
As she scowls and Piper scoffs, I hurry down the aisle, taking the steps off the bus two at a time. Just at the right moment too—Holly is craning her neck around, looking for us, and Sasha is standing next to her. I quickly join them, and we wait for Piper and Georgia together.
"Those two," Holly mutters, sounding peeved. "I swear, they only work hard when I separate them. Otherwise it's like getting molasses to flow through a coffee straw."
Sasha adds, "I'll bet you fifty bucks that they'll only climb the indoor rock climbing wall, and that at least three boys will loiter underneath them trying to look up their shorts."
"You're on."
I boggle at the size of their bet. Fifty dollars isn't the kind of thing you waste on something that dumb, at least not in the world I'm from. But Sasha said it casually, like she was talking about the amount of money you might pick up off the ground. I guess in her case she was.
"Alright!" Mrs. Reynolds, who's our administrative escort for today, gathers us together. "There were forty of you on that bus on the way here, and I expect forty on the way out, too. You'll get to warm up inside, try out at least two outdoor rock climbing courses, and then we have to bring the bus back to pick up the next group."
The second group of the day will be hosted by the Hadleys, the boys' dorm to our girls' dorm. Altogether, only about half the first year students are attending rock climbing today. Holly told me it's less popular than the more social events, because, and I quote, "Half of our fellow classmate have zero interest in getting their hands dirty, which is why they don't know how to plunge a toilet. So expect to get a lot of complaints about that in the coming weeks. Mr. Sanchez deals with the plumbing issues, but they always come to us first."
She knows a lot about being a Rosalind even though she's only been one as long as me, not counting orientation week. That's the advantage of being a legacy with an older sister who went here, though—Holly could graduate this place in her sleep.
As we file into the main building to get ready for the climb, she inevitably wanders close to Cole, and I find myself slowing down to avoid being near him. The secret hidden in the bottom of my bag feels like it might burn through at any moment and reveal itself. I can't stop looking at the back of Cole's head, watching him, wondering what the rest of the semester has in store for me.
"Fancy seeing you here." I nearly trip and stumble as Lukas DuPont himself appears at my side, staring down at me as we enter the building and wait for Mrs. Reynolds to check us in. "It's been a while. Brenna, was it?"
I frown up at him. "I know you know my name. I'm not sure what you and Cole are planning today, but I'm not falling for it."
His blond brows jump up towards his hairline. "Planning?"
"I'm on his list." Stiffening, I point out, "I'm not stupid. You're one of his best friends, and an Elite besides. Whatever you've got hiding beneath that European accent, you don't fool me."
A little chuckle escapes his mouth, but after a moment he realizes I'm serious, and it turns into a puzzled frown. "I'm not planning anything."
"Cole put me on his list," I point out. "I know he told you... everything."
There's a list of unsaid things beneath that one word: my real name, what Cole did to me at art class, his plans for me, and even his tempo
rary ceasefire for the sake of Holly's continuing goodwill. That ceasefire ended yesterday, and I have no doubt he's got something planned. All he'll have to do is lead Holly away so she doesn't see anything and have Lukas mess with me instead.
"He's never mentioned you," Lukas says, sounding confused. He's a good actor, I'll give him that. "As far as his list goes, I don't really look on social media for those things. It's not what I'm into."
I glower in his direction. "I don't believe you." For one thing, I know he has social media. Sure, he hasn't posted in months, but he has it—I know that from my research. I open my mouth to point that out, only to stop; I don't want to make him suspicious. "Anyway, just stay away from me. I have enough on my plate dealing with Cole."
He makes a face. "Fine, whatever. I'll find out what's going on from him."
Then he wanders off, somehow all on his own in a group of his peers despite the fact that he's one of the Elites. He's a strange one, that Lukas Dupont; I'll give him that. I'm just glad Tanner and Blake aren't here for me to deal with—I'm not looking forward to facing the latter, and I'm not ready to face the former, especially with Georgia around.
Mrs. Reynolds lets us know that she's signed us in and it's time to take our locker assignments so we can put our stuff in the changing rooms. I drift towards the back of the line, eyes on Cole, keeping a watch for Lukas. Eventually, I let myself relax, and daydream about what it's going to feel like to take the Elites down.
I'm one of the last to get the locker key from Mrs. Reynolds. It's simple enough to drop the key as she hands it to me, then peer at her clipboard as I take an extra long time picking it up off the ground. It's not hard to find Cole's name and locker number on the boys' side of the locker rooms: 425.
My heart is in my throat as I head to my own locker and change out of my Rosalind shirt into the beaten-up tank top I brought to climb in. Holly and Sasha are gabbing about all the hand holds they'll practice and how great their calves would look if they did this every day as exercise. I can't pay attention, and I find myself glad that Chrissy and Tricia wound up in the group of the day, because I'm in no mood for conversation.