by Max Henry
“Anyone who doesn’t know,” Lacey announces. “This is Christian. His father is the one who handles Colt’s charges.”
“Don’t forget to mention he’s your mother’s sugar daddy.”
Lacey glares at Christian. “And that.”
“He’s helped a lot today,” I say, feeling the need to defend him. He’s new in our camp, and with that comes a fair amount of suspicion. But there’s no need to write him off before he has a chance to prove his intentions.
“And the girl hiding over the back is Willow,” Lacey says flatly.
Our Portside delegate raises her hand to the room.
“We all know who I am,” Colt says rather loudly, making it known he intends to keep close when he positions himself at the foot of Maggie’s mother’s chair just to be beside me.
“You must be Barrett, then?” Tuck sits in the armchair adjacent to the fire, brow hard as he studies our last party member.
Barrett slings both hands in his pockets, refusing to settle anywhere. “I am. You are?”
“Tuck.” You could cut the air with a knife. “Lacey’s boyfriend.”
Christian rolls his eyes. “If you two have finished pissing over our host, can we get on with what the fuck is happening here?” He glances at Maggie’s mum. “My apologies.”
Charlotte sighs, setting her crochet aside on the floor beside her seat. “I’ve heard worse, young man. Don’t censor yourself on my behalf.”
“Before you guys surprised us all by walking in, we were discussing how Richard and Libby might resolve the issue we have tonight.” Lacey glares at our subdued spearhead.
For once in Richard’s life, he seems content to leave others to take the lead. He lounges between Beau and Tuck with one leg bent at the knee and the other outstretched, head back against the wall.
“Anyone thought that it might be a good idea to get Libby in here, then?” Colt asks.
“She won’t move.” Richard sighs. “She’s packing a sad because Tuck broke her phone.”
Man, I wish I had been here for that. “She snapped my head off when I tried.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Christian grumbles. “Leave it to me.” He pushes off the door frame and heads outside.
Lacey glances around the room once more. “Where’s Arthur?”
Silence fills the gap before I answer. “We don’t know.”
“How do you not know?” Richard snaps.
“He left when nobody paid attention.” Barrett shrugs. “Can’t get in contact with him.”
“Let me try.” He shifts to one hip so he can dig his phone out of his fashionably worn jeans. “He should answer me.”
“I guess you’re the reason Colt left this morning,” Lacey says coolly, eyeing Willow while Richard places his call.
“I guess.”
The girls stare heatedly at one another, the atmosphere in the room awkward as all hell. I know Willow was her best friend once, and, yes, I may have been jealous of that connection at one time. But holy shit—whatever split these two apart left scars.
Deep scars.
“Take a seat, Willow,” Maggie’s mother instructs more than invites. “The sun has but an hour left in it, which means your friends”—she looks directly at Richard—“will be here soon. I think it’s high time you kids set your differences aside for one night and had a good old-fashioned heart to heart.”
“Mum,” Maggie groans.
“No.” Mrs Epsom raises her palm, head ducked to one side, and eyes closed. “I don’t want to hear it.” She takes a moment to peruse the room. “Swallow your goddamn pride and stop this mayhem before anyone else gets hurt.”
“May we join?”
I cut my gaze left to find Christian with a fuming Libby tucked solidly beneath his arm. I think it’s more out of restraint than any type of comfort.
“Of course.” Mrs Epsom stays quiet while she waits for them to settle. “Now, I know we don’t have the main instigator here.”
“Amber,” Tuck mutters.
“Yes. Still, I think you lot can sort this out without her. Who’ll go first?”
“What are we doing?” Libby snaps, commanding the room with her overbearing stance in the doorway.
“We’re sharing our reasons for starting this mess,” Maggie’s mum explains. “You’re standing,” she quips. “So, why don’t you kick things off? Why are you in our town tonight?”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Maggie mutters beside me as she shrinks against the wall.
“I would have thought that was obvious,” Libby bites. “I was forced here.”
“But you would have been here anyway.” Tuck picks at an invisible spot on the arm of his chair.
She fixes him with a hard stare. “Perhaps.”
“Cut the shit,” Richard interjects, apparently done with his call. “This is all you’ve talked about since Amber told you about the parties.”
“Amber told you about Dee’s party?” Lacey blurts. “When?”
“Figure it out, sunshine.” Libby’s nose pinches as she snarls toward Lacey.
Tuck reaches to where Lace sits on the side of his chair and sets his palm against her back. It’s a subtle gesture, one that nobody would notice unless they looked for it, but powerful nonetheless.
“Who are you after?” Colt asks as though bored. “Me, or my sister?”
Libby frowns, seemingly a little less angry with him. Why? I’m unsure, but I’d like to ignore the apparent connection between them, given their recent history.
“Either,” she answers curtly. “Hopefully, both.”
“Why involve everyone else?”
“Why not?” She stares down her nose at Lacey as she answers her question. “Power in numbers. You know that, don’t you?”
“Give it a rest.” Lace looks away, clearly not in the mood to engage in a debate over who held the crown at Riverbourne.
“What did you hope it would achieve?” Mrs Epsom asks softly. “You get your revenge on these two, and then what, love?”
Libby seems to soften at the moniker. Interesting. “I get my status back.”
Richard snorts.
“Oh, put a sock in it.” Libby reaches down to remove one of her heels, tossing it at the prick. “You’re the one who loves to remind me daily that I’m nothing without it.”
“Only stating the truth,” he mutters, turning her discarded shoe in his hand. “You’ve played into your mother’s hands beautifully, Lib. Our parents are one negotiation away from demanding our marriage since you present so well.”
“What?” I choke out.
“Figures,” Colt mutters on my right.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Richard snipes. “We’re born into the wealthiest families in our region. Of course, our parents would want to monopolise on that.”
“Worse things could happen,” Libby adds dismissively.
“You’re both okay with this?” Maggie’s mum sputters, clearly shocked people still get around arranging marriages between their children in our country.
“It’s not as though I’d expect him to love me,” Libby states flatly.
“And she’d be a fool if she thought I intended to be faithful,” Richard adds. “It’s a paper marriage, nothing more.”
“You would have ditched Arthur anyway,” Colt states. “But using me made it easier to explain.”
Libby lifts both hands, carefully applauding his deduction so as not to damage her fresh manicure. “Well done. You finally got there.”
“Hope you guys understand now why I wanted out of the place,” Lacey mutters, one hand braced to her forehead.
“You would have stayed if Barrett gave you the time of day,” Libby scathes. “Poor neglected Lacey.”
“I did give her the time of day,” Barrett argues. “She’s the one who turned me down.”
Libby’s struck silent. For once. I don’t miss the subtle smirk teasing Tuck’s mouth.
“You can get your status back without the need
to bully Colt and Lacey,” Christian says, joining the conversation.
Libby twists to face him. “How?”
“You’ve got to stop being such a bitch—that’s all.”
“You’re so funny,” she retorts, nose crinkled with a sneer. “Pull the other one while you’re at it.”
“I’m serious.” Christian folds his arms, staring down at the much shorter girl. “Fear will only win people over for so long. Ultimately, you’re left alone and without anybody to give a shit how you feel about it. If you want friends or adoring fans—I don’t give a shit, which—you need to make these people feel as though you care a damn, Libby.”
“You want me to buy them?”
He slaps a palm to his face. “No. Christ!” Dragging the hand free, he levels her with his chin raised, shoulders slumped. “Think of it this way. You get the commoners out here—”
“Commoners?” Maggie’s mum whispers our way.
“Ssh.” Maggie raises her hand to quiet her mum, focused on Christian and Libby.
“—to do your dirty work, fine. But when tonight has gone up in flames, and you’ve left feeling vindicated while they take the heat for whatever mess is left behind, what do you think they’ll do when the masses realise that they were nothing but a part of your well-oiled revenge machine?”
“Stop being so dramatic.”
“He’s not.” Richard lifts his phone. “Arthur is back in Riverbourne now doing damage control. Half of them were already on the fence about coming, Libby.”
“What’s he doing?” Tuck asks, leaning forward in his seat.
“Talking to people face-to-face like any good politician would.”
Tuck frowns.
“His dad is the local representative for the opposition,” I fill in.
“Oh.”
“I can’t believe the gall of him,” Libby seethes.
“Let go of this show of yours,” Ingrid urges her. “Nobody here cares if you’re the queen bee or not, so drop the anger-fuelled attitude.”
“The anger must come from somewhere,” Maggie’s mum points out. “What’s really the issue, love? You lose your status; what are you afraid of?”
Frantic blue eyes dart across everyone in the room. We wait in silence for Libby’s answer; some curious on what it is, others just curious if she’ll even say.
“I’ll be forgotten.” Her entire body relaxes as though she’s finally dropped an enormous weight off her shoulders. “There is nothing about me that stands out. If I fall, I fall to the bottom.”
“Would that be so bad?” Maggie asks. “I’ve been near on invisible to my peers for years, and I can tell you it’s quite cool.”
“How?” Libby scoffs, back to more her usual self.
“Nobody gives a shit what I do.” Maggie flicks her gaze toward her mum. “I get left to do my own thing, left out of the politics, free from all the bullshit.”
“Maybe that’s okay for somebody like you,” Libby says, dragging her gaze the length of the girl. “But I happen to enjoy the politics and the drama.”
“Do you really?” Mrs Epsom rises from her seat, crossing the room to Libby. “Look at you.” She sets her hands on the blonde’s shoulders. “You’re a jittery mess. I don’t think you do enjoy it, do you?”
“She’d never admit it,” Richard says, rising to his feet also. “If we’re done here, I’m needed back in Riverbourne to help Arthur.”
“How?” Christian asks eyes narrowed.
Richard matches the hard stare with one of his own. “We’re relocating those keen for a night out to my house,” he explains. “You’re less likely to get defectors coming out here if they have somewhere else to go.”
“You’re helping them with this?” Libby explodes, still in Mrs Epsom’s hold. “Why?”
“Because to be quite honest, Lib, this topic bores me now. We’ve got less than three months left of the school year, and then we all split up anyway. Who cares what this lot choose to do out here? The only person that had beef with them, to begin with, was me. Now that Mandy cleared up the truth about that night, I’ve got nothing, no reason to waste my time here.”
She stares him down, jaw working side-to-side.
“Are you coming home with me, or what?”
Maggie’s mum releases her. “Will you call this witch hunt off?”
Libby’s supporters abandon her one by one; her supposed strength in numbers dwindle by the hour. It’s written in her tired gaze as she palms the broken phone at her side, that she knows as well as we all do that continuing with her hate campaign tonight would be akin to flogging a dead horse.
It’s time for her to count her losses and back out.
As Richard pointed out, we’re no longer worth the investment of her time and effort.
“Go home, Libby,” Christian urges softly. “Return to what you know and leave these guys alone.”
“And what sort of message would that send at Riverbourne?”
“One that shows you have a beating heart.”
LACEY
“Do you think this is really the end?” I lean back against Tuck, nestled in his arms while we watch Richard drive Libby back to her gilded castle. “It can’t be this easy.”
“The job is only half done,” Colt states on our right. “She was one part of the puzzle, remember, sis?”
“We’ve still got Amber to ice, yet.” Tuck rests his chin on top of my head. His big body shields me from the bitter breeze that’s developed now the sun has almost set. “Any news from over there?”
Maggie pulls her phone out, seated on the concrete siding of our porch steps. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Me, either.” Beau stands above her, ankles crossed where he leans against the side of the house.
“Let’s go back inside where it’s warm,” I suggest. “I’ll check my phone.”
I enter to find Greer, Willow, and Christian seated on the floor in front of the fire, legs crossed where they face one another. It’s a strangely intimate pose for him, but perfectly natural for my bestie and former best friend. Ingrid lies on the small sofa; her ankle raised on the arm while she watches some reality program on TV.
Barrett stands at the kitchen counter, helping Maggie’s mum make cheese on toast to put under the grill.
I never thought I’d see the day when my two worlds seamlessly combined, but looking at the assortment of friends around me now, I’m hesitant to believe it has.
No matter how at home everyone may appear.
“I figured I’d fix you kids something quick to eat, and then we’ll head over to the Archerson farm,” Charlotte explains as she lays out grated cheddar on the bread Barrett prepared. “Your father will probably have a go at me, Lacey, but I think after what’s happened here, it would be better if you were all present for Amber.”
Her heart’s in the right place, but I wonder if taking the majority of the Chosen across would be too soon?
“Have you heard anything from him?” I ask. “I was just about to check my phone.”
She nods, focus kept on the simple dinner before her. “He sent a quick message to say that they were all set up. Dee’s co-operating with Mandy’s help while Amber continues to pitch a fit.”
Maggie snorts, moving behind me to join the others in the living room. Beau takes a seat at the dining table with Tuck, both guys overseeing Barrett.
They don’t trust him. And I can see why. He fidgets with the bread tag, turning it between his fingers, his complexion pale.
He appears nervous, unhinged. But the truth is he fights withdrawal.
“Are you due meds?” I ask softly, minimising how many people overhear our conversation.
His eyes dart to mine. “Yeah. Two hours ago.”
“Still that bad, huh?”
“Only when reminded why I took the shit in the first place and the cravings kick in.”
Setting my hand on his upper arm, I offer a smile—the best I can do. “Want a distraction?”
He nods.<
br />
I make my way into the hallway, aware that at least one set of eyes watch my every move and open the narrow warmer cupboard. Shallow shelves line the space in front of the hot water cylinder, most with towels and linens keeping dry, but on the top shelf sits our small collection of games.
I didn’t understand why Dad packed any of this when we came out here, only seeing the point once it became clear that we don’t have the same access to internet and subscription sites that we used to. I pull down my favourite pack, the game we’d play as a family on long-haul flights before they had in-flight movies and WIFI access.
“We’ve got time to kill, so who wants a game of UNO?”
Tuck smirks, Beau raising his hand sheepishly, while Ingrid props herself up on one elbow.
“What the hell is UNO?” Christian asks, breaking conversation with the girls.
“Boy,” Maggie chuckles, clearing off the coffee table. “You’re about to get your arse kicked.”
“It’s a card game,” Greer explains. “Oh my, God, Lace. I haven’t played something like this since I was, like, in primary school.”
“It never gets old,” Tuck states enthusiastically, taking the pack from my hand to shuffle the deck. “Once you know how to play, you never forget.”
“Speak for yourself,” Willow quips, settling herself at one end of the table. “I need refreshing.”
“Same.” Barrett joins our party, tossing a smile my way as he moves past.
“Well,” I announce, standing at the head of the room. “Let’s start with the rules. Number one, no damn cheating.”
I glance behind me while the room breaks into a debate over who’s most likely to try and sneak an extra card to find Maggie’s mum with a dishtowel in her hands, watching us with a soft smile.
We’re doing good.
As much as we all started this journey with our own reasons for treating the others ill, we’ve grown together through the experience. People who once would have never given the other the time of day are now friends, those who couldn’t shake the need to impress their peers now sitting quietly in the corner while they happily blend in with the crowd.
Set aside the emotional needs that drive our behaviour and we’re all the same. We’re teenagers emerging into the unknown and less supported world of adulthood, unsure of what exactly we want from life yet.