by Lucy Auburn
Biting my lip, I answer, "Sure thing... if you can tell me what they did to Reggie first."
"You didn't hear?" Chrissy is ready with the latest gossip, as always. "Cole and his friends got Reggie expelled for selling drugs out of his dorm room. That's not it, either–Hector got suspended for not ratting on his own friend sooner." She shakes her head. "Reggie only did it because he couldn't pay for the uniform fees they were charging him for, since his first set of uniforms got ruined. And you'll never guess who ruined them."
My heart sinks into my stomach. "I'm guessing Cole had something to do with it."
Tricia answers, "Him and Tanner, like always. Though we think Blake and Lukas are the ones who ratted him out to the administration."
"For all we know, they planted the drugs," Chrissy adds.
"Oh, don't be naive, Chrissy." Tricia shakes her head. "Everyone knew that Reggie was dealing."
"Yeah, but out of his own dorm room? He wasn't that dumb. Anyway," she says, taking a sip of her coffee, "his parents are sending him to military school now. It's off to the army after he graduates, or he's getting cut off—permanently. And to think, there are no consequences for the Elites, even though we all know they've bought drugs plenty of times."
My morning mood has been thoroughly deflated by this piece of news. Here I thought Cole's ceasefire might really have to something to do with Holly being around. But this whole time he was just switching targets, and he got what he wanted without a single hitch.
I have to accelerate my plan to destroy him.
Chapter 23
Blake isn't our teacher's assistant anymore. He's just another student now. The teacher makes a brief announcement about it without mentioning the video at all. She just tells us that we won't have a teacher's assistant anymore, and that from now on we'll turn all our assignments in to her.
A murmur goes through the classroom at this news, and I notice the way people stare at Blake. He's sitting in the back of the middle row, his thin laptop in front of him, stylish black-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I can't keep myself from looking over at him from my spot a few rows to his right.
He doesn't look any different. His life has changed; he's not a TA anymore, people are gossiping about him, and all the Korean gossip sites are speculating that he'll have to make a public apology to save his family's reputation there. Commenters either think he should stay in America forever, far from his mother's homeland, or be gathered up and shipped back to Seoul to stay far from his father's Hollywood influences forever.
Meanwhile, his dad has been M.I.A. in the American press. He's filming his new movie in Norway, a spy thriller starring some of Hollywood's hottest actors. No doubt he'll be discussing how to handle the video's release with his publicist soon.
But as far as anyone can tell just from looking at Blake's face, there's no sign that he's going through any turmoil at all. The angry boy in the club that night is hidden so completely that it's like he doesn't exist at all.
He looks over at me, catching me staring. I don't know why, but I don't look away. Some dangerously curious part of me wants to see if I can find the boy I saw on that tape, the one with the darkness inside him that called to the fire in me.
At first his expression is just placid, maybe even friendly in a neutral way. But then something shifts inside him, and like a tiger stirring from slumber, he changes from the sleeping beast to the waking predator.
Darkness flows into his eyes. Makes his mouth turn up just slightly in the corners. His hand, on the desk surface, curls into a fist. In an instant, he looks nothing like a well-behaved boy.
He looks like the boy in that video who wanted to destroy everything around him.
Yanking my eyes towards the front of the classroom, I shiver.
And wonder if, by exposing Blake Lee for the beast he truly is, I've made it so he has nothing left to lose anymore.
I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since I put the spiders in Cole's locker. Holly confided in me the evening after the rock climbing event—apparently Cole had something close to a nervous breakdown afterwards about the whole thing. He wasn't just angry; he was genuinely freaked out.
"Spiders are a big fear of his. Not quite a phobia, but pretty damn close," she said, while I schooled my face to neutrality, knowing Cole wanted her as far away from our feud as humanly possible. I already knew about his dislike of spiders; it's why I used them in the first place. "But it's not just that. He was so angry about it. I told him it was probably just a stupid prank Tanner or Blake pulled on him, but he told me he knew it wasn't them. The way he acted, Brenna... he was manic. I swear, he has this darkness in him I don't understand. Sometimes I wonder how it is we've lasted this long, and if we'll make it to graduation at this rate."
She's sighed, flopped back on her pillows, and added, "I'm glad we'll be going into town tomorrow to do some shopping and make up for missing out on the rest of the rock climbing trip. You'll get that makeup I told you about, right? It'll be so much better for your skin—that foundation you use is clogging your pores."
I'd smiled at her and promised to buy it, already anticipating the price tag hitting Georgia's credit card account.
That conversation was two days ago, on Saturday. Cole has been planning something ever since; I know he has. I just don't know where he'll strike, or who else might be involved.
I posted through the Legacies social media, putting the call out for any information related to Blake Lee or the group he's in, the Elites. I tried to make it sound like they might have something to do with his angry outburst in a nightclub in Seoul, not that I think they did. But as long as everyone is talking about him, I want them to talk about his friends too.
And I want them to send me dirt about them.
As I head to lunch, already anticipating this evening's ice cream social, I feel eyes on me in the hallway. Looking over, I spot Tanner lounging against the lockers, a curious smile on his face.
"You look different." He paces over towards me and looks me up and down. "Did you finally get that makeover Holly said you so desperately needed? What were the words she used—'sad, pathetic little Brenna' or something like that?"
I bristle a little at his words, then remind myself that he's on the other side of this thing with me and Cole. "Holly wouldn't say shit like that. It goes against her whole ethos."
Tanner shrugs. "Whatever you wanna believe." Reaching out, he snags the end of my newly blonde hair, running it through his fingers. "Blonde seems a little predictable, if you ask me. I thought you didn't go with the crowd."
Having his fingers so close to my face, touching my hair, sends warmth pooling between my thighs. I can see it in his hazel eyes: he's curious about me now. He wants me in a way he didn't before.
"The hair stylist said blonde suits my coloring." Biting my lower lip, I take a small step towards him, until our bodies are separated by just a few inches of space. I feel reckless and wild, like I'm playing with fire—and I know he won't be the only one to get burned. "Are you stuck on redheads or something?"
"Nah." He drops my hair. "Georgia and I are on the rocks again."
"Oh?" I can't help it: my pulse surges. "Why's that?"
"She fucked some other guy after the rock climbing trip." He rolls his eyes. "That part I wouldn't mind so much, but she only did it because I told her I couldn't meet her that night. Apparently, she thought I was playing games, so she played some too, just to make me jealous."
The evening of the rock climbing trip. So she was flirting with those other guys that day.
Tanner says, "I prefer your kind of games, Fire Girl. Fucking around on me was just predictable of Georgia—it's what she always does when she wants attention. She'd never have the creativity to burn me with a candle." He leans down towards me, close enough that I can see every color in his hazel eyes. "I think when you play, you play for maximum pain. Isn't that right?"
I can't tell if he's talking about what I did to Cole o
r not. But now is a great time for me to make my move and show my cards.
"Why don't I show you how I play this weekend, at the ice cream social. You and me."
"Are you asking me on a date, Fire Girl?"
"What if I am?" I can feel my pulse racing, heat suffusing my cheeks. "Would that be so bad?"
"For you, maybe." Drawing back, Tanner looks me up and down. "Sure, let's do it. I want to see what you're made of."
And I want to bring him down.
It's my first Visual Arts class with Cole since the spiders incident, and I'm anticipating something from him. So I carefully put my newly dyed hair in a bun and pull a soft woolen cap over it—while I doubt he'll play the same prank on me as last time, it doesn't hurt to be safe.
Georgia Johnson paid top dollar for this new hair of mine, after all.
I make it to class before him and select a stool in the middle of the room. That way I'll be where anyone can see it if he does something to me—not that I trust the other students to protect me. My spot puts me near a still life station with dried flowers and a few macabre items on it, like a half-eaten pear and a few fake spiders. Rainbow told us that this class we'd be taking some inspiration from the Danish and Flemish still life paintings of the 17th and 18th centuries, which were often political and even a little gruesome in what they depicted.
The instant Cole enters the tent, I know. I can feel his eyes on me, as if there's some invisible tether between us, connecting the two of us inexorably.
He doesn't stop by my stool, though. No doubt he wants me to anticipate his revenge, even drive myself crazy thinking about it. But I won't let him distract me, and I won't think too long about what he might do. This is my best class at Coleridge so far, and the last thing I need is to fall behind here when I can barely figure out the rest of my subjects.
Soon we're working on the pieces, and I fall into that same familiar head space where everything is calm and easy, like the still water of a small lake. This time we're doing strictly pencil and charcoal. Rainbow has told us to make our blacks as dark as possible, our lights as light as possible, and cover as many ranges of value in between. That means paying attention to which pencil I'm using, how dark and soft the lead is.
It's easy to darken the shadows of this piece. There are spider legs and dead petals. The dried flowers are propped up on a few old books with their titles worn down from time. It's the kind of piece that draws your eye if done correctly, and I intend to take my time.
When break is called in the middle of class, I get up to stretch my legs but don't walk too far from my easel. There's no way I'm letting Cole destroy this piece of art—not this time around. Rainbow gave me an easy A for my first assignment because she'd seen my work before it was destroyed, but this time we're working on this same still life across a few classes, and I can't let him put me back a whole day.
But he doesn't walk close to my easel, and doesn't grab the dirty water bucket from the sink. That means he must be up to something else. I keep an eye on him as much as I can, trying to subtly use my peripheral vision. I know there's no way he's going to just let the spiders go, and I don't think he's sent one of his boys to take care of me this time—this is personal to him now. He'll come for me himself.
I wait for him to tip his hand, but all he does it stretch and go over to the cubbies to pull a snack bar out of his bag. He doesn't even really look at me. Frowning, I turn back to my easel as the break ends, wondering what he's up to.
I get my answer at the end of class. We all keep our book bags and laptops in cubbies at the entrance to the tent so they don't get anything spilled on them or have to be set on the ground. As I grab my bag, I feel the prickle of Cole's gaze on me, and sense that something's up.
My heart races at the thought that he might've done something to my laptop. I can't afford another one, and it was Silas's computer besides all that. If he poured ink on it, I'll be ruined—I don't have a way to replace it, and my stipend will barely cover buying print books from the bookstore.
So as I open up the bag and reach inside, my movements are fast and careless. I run my fingers along the edge of the laptop, feeling for the bottom to lift it out—and then something moves against my hand.
Something cool and scaled.
I shudder as I wrap my fingers around it and pull it out, adrenaline coursing through me.
Cole put a snake in my bag.
Chapter 24
"How'd you get here?" I coo at the snake as it crawls rapidly up my arm, green scales glinting.
"Oh my god!" The girl at the cubby to the left of me stumbles back so fast she nearly drops her Prada bag. "It's a snake!"
"Don't worry," I reassure her, "it's just a garden snake." Looking over at Cole, I add, "It's harmless, and not at all frightening."
His jaw clenches, fingers curling up towards his palms. We lock eyes for a long moment, and I find myself thrown back into what happened at the rock climbing event.
Cole's shirt off. The way he pushed me up against the wall. How close he was to me, my hands pressed against his bare skin, his heat against me.
Sensations run up and down my arm, electrifying. I feel more alive playing this game of cat and mouse—or spider and snake—with him than I have in months.
He's woken something up inside me that I don't think I can put back to sleep.
"Brenna, if you could put the garden snake back outside," Rainbow says, approaching me calmly. "It probably crawled in under the tent and was looking for a warm and dark place to sleep. You can always put it in the green house."
"Of course," I tell her, reaching out to stroke the top of the snake's head. "I'm just glad I found it before someone more afraid of snakes saw it and hurt it."
As I walk out of the tent flap, the garden snake curled around my arm, bag in my other hand, I pass by Cole. He's staring at me intensely, dappled light shining through the tent flap and turning the side of his face golden.
"This isn't over," he murmurs.
I turn away and try to ignore the feeling of him staring at me as I walk across the outdoor space, heart in my throat.
Maybe I should've pretended to be afraid of the snake, just to get him off my back.
But I don't know how to be weak.
That might be the one flaw that winds up being my undoing.
Tuesday, English Language and Literature, 9:35 AM
My head comes up when, in the middle of English literature class, our teacher announces that we'll be pairing up for a group project on the differences between British and American literature.
"You'll be spending the rest of class planning your project, which will be due at the end of the month. Those of you in this row and this row," she motions to the first row, then the one I'm sitting in, "turn to your right and you'll see your partner for this project."
I already know who sat next to me today.
Lukas raises a brow as I turn to him. "You don't look thrilled to have me as your partner."
"You're bad luck," I point out. "The last time I put myself in your arms, I almost broke my neck."
"I caught you," he retorts. "You were literally in my arms. And you didn't give me much of a chance to talk to you afterwards and see if you were okay."
Licking my lips, I ask him, "Did you know that it would happen?"
"That what would happen?"
"Don't play dumb with me." Outrage blossoms in my chest. "You have to know that Georgia Johnson messed with my harness. Cole probably helped her, too. That's why you were the one who wound up being my belayer."
He frowns at me, his pale eyebrows drawing together. "Georgia messed with your harness?" I just scoff at him; he must think I'm stupid. "I didn't... I barely know Georgia. She's just that redhead who hangs around Tanner all the time. As far as whatever you think was going on, I would never put someone's life in jeopardy like that. Neither would Cole."
I study him. He seems so outraged, disturbed even. His leg is bouncing in the chair, his long, perfect fingers
tapping on the desk. And he sounds genuinely troubled by my revelation.
"Are you so sure about Cole?" I ask him, probing at his respectable surface to see what lurks beneath. "He has a sadistic streak. Holly even told me that she thinks about breaking up with him sometimes. He got Reggie kicked out of school."
"Reggie was a low-life drug dealer," Lukas says. "He offered to sell roofies to a friend of ours who was only looking for a little Molly. He's bad news."
I chew on this information, remembering the boy sitting next to Hector at lunch so many days in a row. "What about Hector? He didn't deserve to get suspended. Or to have Cole torment him all the time. He even threatened his dad's job at the school of Hector defended himself."
Pausing, Lukas concedes, "Cole has an outsized hate for Hector. But they have a history. It's personal."
I want to know more. "Oh? How?"
He shakes his head. "That's for him to tell you." Fingers suddenly pausing on the desk, Lukas says, "Cole has done a lot of things. He starts shit on social media. Messes with people's stuff. I've even seen him do things that I don't know how to defend. But he never gets physical." Lukas is very firm on this. "I don't believe for one second that he would enjoy hurting you."
"He smiled when I fell."
"Well." Lukas runs a hand through his hair. "You falling meant that you lost our bet, although I told him I wasn't going to count it since you almost got seriously injured. Cole was pretty incensed at the thought that I'd even offer myself up to be on your side. So I guess seeing you lose made him happy. Besides, I caught you. You didn't break a single bone—didn't even bruise as far as I could see."
He's right, I have to admit. It wasn't pleasant to fall—it was fucking frightening, in fact—but I didn't hurt a single hair on my head.
And his words have made me curious about something. "Why did you offer to be on my side in that bet?"