Logan: I’m beyond stoked. I still can’t really believe this is happening.
Me: Me neither. My lifelong dream is becoming a reality.
Logan: That’s great! So you dreamed of being in a rock band even before you found out who your dad was?
Me: Yep, ever since I was ten.
Logan: Wow. Talk about destiny.
Me: Tell me about it. Hey, what are you up to right now?
Logan: Nothing much. Just chilling in my PJ’s. My girl is out at a movie with her best friend.
Pain burns through me at having him call someone else “my girl.” Then my cheeks heat with embarrassment at the fact that I care. I shake off my crazy emotions.
Me: You in the mood to play some WoW?
Logan: Hell yeah! Give me just a minute.
Me: Okay :) I’ll go log on.
I still don’t have many people to hang out with here in L.A., so having a buddy to play with on WoW is a much-needed, healthy distraction. I jump out of bed and settle in front of my desktop. Once I’m logged onto my main character, Logan and I put on our headsets to chat.
“Hey!” His deep, pleasant voice sounds from the other end. It affects me way more than I want it to. I try to tame my heart’s flip-flopping long enough to greet him back with a smooth voice.
“Hey, wanna meet somewhere?”
He agrees, and we meet in Orgrimmar to look over each other’s toons. I right-click his nameplate to inspect his gear set.
“Wow, you are really geared!” I say.
“Thanks. Your set is pretty good too. I noticed a couple of your pieces are kind of low level, though. Do you want to see if we can find a raid group real fast?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Logan and I find a raid group and decide to wait out the hour together until it starts. While we’re waiting, I find out about his love for How I Met Your Mother and realize we’re at about the same point in the series in our Netflix queues. Logan and I start the same episode at the same time on our TVs and laugh together over Barney’s antics.
“That is one desperate dude,” Logan observes. “It’s sad that some guys in real life are like this.”
“I bet you run into a lot of those being a bartender.”
“Yeah, unfortunately. Luckily all I have to do is serve them alcohol. I’d hate to be a girl that has to deal with those guys coming onto them all the time.”
“Trust me, it’s annoying,” I say with a giggle. Being in the public eye has put me in contact with a few creepy men, some of whom were much older than me. Normally, all I have to do is remind them I’m seventeen years old and they’ll leave me alone, but some of them almost make me threaten to call Jess’s bodyguards on them.
“I bet guys are always bothering you. Your looks alone make you a prime target,” Logan says.
My heart flutters. Did he just call me hot?
“Thanks. Actually, no, not always, just when I really don’t want them to, you know?”
Logan laughs. “Yeah, I get you. Now that I’m with someone, girls won’t leave me alone. Before I met Claire, I couldn’t find anyone who wanted to go out with me.”
“Well, that’s ironic.”
“Yeah, that’s life for you. Everything’s loaded with irony.”
“I should know. My favorite actress ended up being my mother.”
An air of shock enters Logan’s voice. “Wait, Jacie Redinger was your favorite actress?”
“Yeah.”
Logan’s delicious chuckle bubbles up from his core. “That’s probably the most ironic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?”
At eight p.m., the raid begins, and my hunter and Logan’s warlock end up destroying the DPS charts. Logan holds on to the number one damage position with me as a close second.
Throughout each boss fight, Logan and I compete against each other, trying to outdo each other’s damage.
“I’m gonna hit 90K before you do,” Logan declares.
“Nuh-uh! I’ve got you beat. I’m already almost there.”
“You’re bluffing.”
I apply a buff and thump my desk in victory. “Check it. 89K, bitch. Come and get me.”
“Oh, you bet I will,” Logan chokes out through his laughter.
Eventually, we both have to concede and admit we’re an equal match. Not only that, but we’re an extraordinary team when it comes to keeping each other out of trouble in the fights. Toward the end, I save Logan’s ass by warning him about a bomb that’s about to explode next to him, and he thanks me profusely.
“I knew there was something I liked about you,” he teases me.
My face splits with a grin. “Ditto. We’re already great together.”
“You’re kind of young, right? Where did you learn to play like this?”
A ping of embarrassment hits my chest at being called young. “My dad. He’s a connoisseur of all things gaming.”
“Wow. Music and gaming experts, both of you. I’m impressed.”
“And horse experts, and gun experts…we like to get good at things.”
Logan guffaws. “I can tell. Not to mention you’re competitive as hell. Man, I’ve never met anyone so determined to beat me.”
“I don’t like getting beaten by boys,” I admit sheepishly.
“Yeah, well I get the feeling that doesn’t happen often.”
“No, it really doesn’t. It’s nice to have a worthy opponent for once.”
“Opponent? Nah. What about worthy ‘partner’?”
I grin. “Works for me.”
***
September 2, 2015
Life’s Irony
I just got done playing four hours of WoW with Logan. That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Our back and forth banter is awesome, and it’s really exciting having someone to play with who’s on my level. Not to mention his knowledge of raids and fighting techniques is extensive. I might actually be able to learn something from him.
Being with him is so easy and natural. It sucks that he has a girlfriend. I’ve checked his social media, and it’s official—I’ll never have a chance with him. Claire is almost prettier than Ana. Her silky blonde hair and blue-green eyes could make an emperor weak at the knees. If she succeeds in her modeling career, Logan will be hailed as one of the luckiest guys on the planet. There’s no way he’s ever going to look my way, especially since I’m younger than him. I might as well just accept it and enjoy being his friend.
We chatted for a while after the raid and I found out his dad left him when he was a baby just like Jess left me. I told him I seem to be surrounded by people with shitty parents. According to Logan, his and Dalton’s mothers connected after both of them were abandoned by their children’s fathers and made sure the kids were able to spend plenty of time together. Having the support of someone else in their situation really helped Dalton and Devon, especially after their mother died. Logan told me he’s really looking forward to living near them so he can help them even more. He said Dalton won’t admit it, but he’s struggling to keep everything afloat as the only family member in a stable condition. Devon’s panic attacks and his uncle’s laziness are really taking a toll on him. I hope I can find a way to help him somehow too. No one should have to carry all of life’s burdens on their own, especially when they’re going to be a part of a new family. I hope our band will end up as close-knit as W3. Any one of them would drop everything and race to the end of the earth for the others. Their bond is almost stronger than blood.
Logan and I talked about the irony of life tonight, and it made me realize my life really is fraught with irony. My favorite actress ended up being my mother, my father ended up being exactly what I dreamed of being…
And I finally meet a guy I can connect with on a deeper level, and he’s going out with an IRL Barbie. Go figure.
Ttyl,
Mads
Chapter 13
September 13, 2015
Doomsday Approaches
Tomorrow is my very first day of my senior year in a real high school. I’ve been drowning out my nerves with music all weekend. Having never been in a school of any kind, I can’t even imagine what I’m in for in the morning. I hope nobody will be able to tell I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. It’s humiliating enough as it is just being me. Adding high school to this equation seems like a recipe for disaster.
I got my uniform a couple weeks ago and it seems to fit okay. It’s made of the highest quality fabrics and the blazer has the school logo on the lapel. I feel really official wearing it, but also a little intimidated. I’m not your typical snotty rich girl. I still feel out of place in this luxurious new world.
It’s probably a good thing Raven made me get rid of my streaks in the summer because I’m not allowed to have any unnatural hair color at Wilcox. Tattoos, piercings, and ripped tights are also no longer an option. Attending a private high school means adhering to lots of rules and regulations. I hope I’m able to reign in my “wild” side long enough to get my diploma. I think I can follow their rules for one year, especially since I only have to be cleaned up and proper at school.
Dad just ordered me to go to sleep and it’s only ten p.m. My night owl self might have a hard time getting used to this…
Ttyl,
Mads
***
I straighten my red-outlined, crisp black blazer in front of my full-length mirror and examine my makeup job one last time. My foundation needs smoothing, so I use the backs of my hands to even out the liquid powder mixture. I almost swipe my hands on my mid-thigh length plaid skirt, and then I gasp and chuckle at myself. That would have been bad. Very, very bad.
According to the dress code I read, Wilcox has immovable standards for how their students are supposed to look coming into school. Our hair has to be neat and perfectly styled. We have to wear dress shoes, and our uniforms have to be spotless. If I had walked in the door with foundation smeared all over my skirt, I probably would have been suspended on the first day. Luckily, I caught myself just in time.
I slip into my black ballet flats, and I’m immediately struck with a realization.
I look weird.
My perfectly waxed eyebrows draw together as I frown at myself in the mirror. This uniform looks incredibly out of place on me. It’s just too…prep. I don’t like looking like a rich spoiled brat. I guess I am one now, but at least I didn’t look like a snob before. This makes me look like one of those mean private school girls who drives a BMW past the public school every morning just to taunt people with her money.
I don’t know if that’s actually a real thing, but it seems like something a mean girl might do.
I blow out a sigh. This uniform needs something. I wish I could add leggings or something a little more rocker-ish, but I can’t. There’s no room for individuality in this dress code.
I grab the strap of my black suede messenger bag from its place on the bed and sling it over my shoulder. After one last look at my flawless appearance, I twist my face into a comical smirk, salute myself ironically, and head out the door to partake in the delicious breakfast I can smell all the way upstairs.
Carefully stepping down the entryway stairs, I duck my head down to see Dad and Cass working hard on New York Strip steaks and eggs. There’s fruit in a bowl on the counter, which I know is Dad’s hint to me that I need the good sugars for energy today. Once I touch down to the floor, I cross into the kitchen and set my bag down beside one of the bar stools, and then I take my seat at the bar and start peeling a tangerine.
Cass hears me come in and turns to grin at me over her shoulder. “Good morning, sweetie!”
I smile at her enthusiastic tone. “Man, somebody’s happy to get rid of me this morning. Have I really been that hard to be around this summer?”
Dad responds with a low, gravelly chuckle. “Not at all, sweetheart. We’re just celebrating your first day of your last year of high school.”
I nod as I pull off a section of my tangerine. I bite into it and relish its sweetness as the cool juice runs down my throat. There’s nothing quite like a California tangerine. These were grown not even two hours away from us. I can taste the freshness oozing out of the fruit here like I never did back in Kentucky.
After a hearty breakfast, I kiss Dad and Cass goodbye and step carefully out to where the red Jag, now officially mine, is waiting. I hurry into the driver’s seat and turn the ignition, eager and nervous to get this day started.
A few minutes of driving later, I pull into the parking lot and my breath catches in my throat.
There it is…Wilcox High School in all its glory. The place where I’ll be spending the next year of my life. Its marble pillars, towering palm trees, and gigantic double doors scream to the world that this is the richest, most elite, most powerful school in all of Los Angeles…possibly in all of the West Coast. I feel like a tiny mushroom in comparison to this.
Soon after I start down one of the aisles, Raven’s limo rolls in and drops her off in style. I roll my eyes as I pull into what we call a “heart healthy” parking spot in Kentucky. One thing I don’t want to do is strut into this school like I own the place. That’s fine for Raven, but today I need to keep as low a profile as possible.
When I step out of the car and slam the door shut, I lift my head and glance around at my classmates. My shoes scuff onto the sidewalk and my stomach sinks. These people are not going to be impressed by me. They’re all from some affluent family or another and are accustomed to people like me coming and going all the time. I won’t be able to con them into thinking I’m something special. That’s why my plan to blend in might just work.
Raven appears beside me when I finally reach the covered sidewalk at the entrance of the school. Her crisp red lips pull up in a strained smile.
“Ready, darling?” She holds out her arm and I slip mine through to link it with hers.
I blow out a deep sigh. “Not really, but let’s go.”
Raven ushers me down the walkway. People seem to tremble in fear as we pass by. I wonder if I should be trembling with them. Several girls join us on the way and form a circle around us, just like the circle of bodyguards we had to have on our trip to NYC. Two of them pull the double doors open for us.
Out of the clear blue, as I step inside the entryway, someone shoves an iced latte in my hand. I look over to my right and see the Asian girl from Gio’s party. She wears this uniform better than I do and has her hair pulled back into two cute braids.
“Welcome to Wilcox, Madison. If you need anything this year, just call on Kiki Nguyen.” She rolls her fists back to point at herself with her thumbs.
“Uh…thank you,” I reply in confusion.
Kiki accompanies us into the domed entry hall. I glance up at the fine chandeliers that hang from the ceiling and follow the wall down to the marble floor, which is overlaid with strips of red carpeting. The center of the entryway has a mosaic of the school crest inlaid. Antique doorknobs adorn the mahogany doors of the offices. Some of them have glass windows in them so you can look right in.
We continue down a hallway to the right and find two other girls waiting for us in front of my cherry red locker. One is a full-figured girl with fiery copper hair, and the other has black hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and giant chocolate brown eyes. Her lips are pulled into a thin line, and she’s studying me intently.
“Madison, meet Chandler and Marianna, your other assistants,” Raven says.
“Assistants?” I lift a questioning eyebrow.
“Yes. These are the girls who have agreed to service me at school in exchange for favors and invitations to my parties. I have plenty of my own girls to aid me, so I delegated these three to you. They’ll help you with whatever you need. Don’t hesitate to call on them for anything, and I do mean anything.” Raven nods to them, kisses me on the cheek, and whisks off in the direction of her locker with her minions in tow.
The redhead gives me a warm, friendly
smile and extends her pale hand. “Hi, I’m Chandler.”
I shake her hand. “Mads.”
“Mari.” The stern dark-haired girl also shakes my hand. She seems very unhappy to be here. A part of me wishes I could just dismiss her from duty.
Come to think of it, couldn’t I?
“Nice to meet you all.” I glance around at them. “Listen, you girls don’t have to ‘assist’ me if you have something better to do. I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.”
Mari pipes up in a low, no-nonsense voice. “We are under strict orders from Raven to help you with anything you need. We are not to leave you between classes, especially on the first day.”
“I’m excited to be your assistant.” The sparkle in Chandler’s emerald green eyes gives her away. “You seem a lot nicer than…well, you know.”
Kiki lays a hand on my shoulder. “She told us you’ve never been to school before. Don’t worry, we don’t mind helping. Right, girls?” She smiles at Mari and Chandler. Chandler nods enthusiastically and Mari just shrugs.
“Well, all right. I guess I could use help with this thing.” I gulp down saliva as I turn toward the combination lock. I’ve never used one of these before, and I don’t have the first clue what to do with it. I glance down at the slip of paper I scribbled my combination on, and then I start twisting the knob aimlessly, finding the numbers one after the other and yanking on the lock like a mad woman.
“Here, let me help.” Kiki steps in to rescue me. She takes the note with the combination on it and shows me how to twist it the correct way. Then she jiggles the old, clattery lock and pulls it open effortlessly. “You always have to jiggle it. The one thing they haven’t replaced at this school in thirty years is the locks.”
I smile in appreciation. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
They wait for me to arrange my things in the locker, and then when I’m almost done, I hear a gasp catch in Mari’s throat. I glance at her and find her giant dark eyes glued on something—or someone—behind me. I follow her gaze and my stomach drops when I see the person who caused that reaction.
The Sister Code (D.O.R.K Book 2) Page 8