“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I don’t have anything to wear, and I’m not buying anything. I had to pay for a new uniform after they stole mine, and that took all my stipend and then some. I had to write and sign an IOU to Brawny, deductible from my next paycheck.”
“You can borrow anything you want from me.”
“I can’t fit into your clothes.”
“Yes you can. We’ll find something that works. Oh, wait. It is October. It must be his Halloween party. Could that be it?”
She’s right. I was already several weeks into the term at Roosevelt when I left, making it October when I got here.
“Mare Bear, if it’s his Halloween party, it’s a once in a lifetime kind of thing. I hear they’re epic. Totally off the hook. You have to go. No excuses.”
“Do you have any spare costumes?”
“I have a French maid outfit,” she quips. “You do too. And yours fits you like a glove.”
“More like a giant’s welding glove.”
She rolls her eyes, “You’re going.”
“No, Meems! I’m not going wearing my work uniform! If it’s Fundies, even if I have a mask, they’ll know it’s me from my hair. I’m the only girl on campus with a buzz cut. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“So what?! You’re going! I’d go if it was me he’s inviting.”
“What if Chase invites you?” I tease. “We could go together.”
“He didn’t,” she pouts. “Otherwise I would. Stop deflecting. You’re going.”
“I don’t even know where the party is.”
“I’m sure you’ll find out. B-dubs, what happened with Mrs. Vang? Did she mark you tardy for Physics?”
“No, when I walked in wearing a towel and explained everything, she let me off the hook.”
“That’s a relief. I know two work-study kids who got kicked out for being tardy. You better be more careful.”
I smirk, “You mean more careful that no one breaks into my gym locker and steals my clothes?”
“Yeah, that,” she grins.
I throw my old pillow at her face and she bats it away laughing. Brawny never gave Meems a new roommate because there’s no one to fill the space at the moment. She obviously wanted to separate us because we were having too much fun. It was bad for morale. Our late night laughing and giggling was making the other work-study girls want to laugh and giggle too, which as we all know is verboten.
When I finish studying and go back to my dorm room, I find an invitation waiting on my bed. I don’t find Azzie. I haven’t seen her all day since the locker room this morning. The invitation is on fancy layered paper with multiple colors and textures, one of them patterned like lace, another fibery and old-timey. The writing is in gold ink. Hand-written calligraphy, of course. It’s nicer than a wedding invitation.
Visions of Cinderella’s ball flash through my mind. Prince already looks the part of the… prince. LOLs. My heart was thudding as I read it.
You are cordially invited to attend the legendary Lancaster All Hallows’ Ball this Saturday evening at ten o’clock. The secret location will be revealed the night of the event. This invitation is your ticket. Do not lose it, strumpet.
Signed Prince J. Lancaster the Turd.
He actually wrote turd.
I snicker to myself.
Did he hand-write this himself? He must have. Only he would call me strumpet. I can’t picture his secretary or party planner or whoever writing strumpet.
I laugh and clutch the invitation to my breast.
What am I thinking?
I smell a trap.
Like, a literal trap.
Speaking of traps, I glance at Azzie’s bed. The blankets are pulled tight. No one has so much as sat on it since this morning. Where is she? It’s almost light’s out. She should be here.
The next morning, I wake up at 5:00am and see her bed is untouched. She never came home.
I knew it.
She really is Elizabeth. She probably spent the night in the East Wing of the Palace where the Fundy girls sleep. I’m sure she has her own penthouse suite or whatever. Now that she knows I’m on to her, she’ll probably never come back here.
Good.
That means I’ll have the room all to myself.
I’d rather share with Mimi, but this is better than having a gaslighting social assassin sleeping in the next bed.
Chapter 24
“You have to go as Little Bo Peep!” Mimi laughs from her dorm room bed a few days later. I already told her about the invitation.
“I’m not dressing as her!” I giggle, sitting across from Meems on the other bed. “Besides, where would I get the sheep?”
“You don’t need sheep!” she laughs. “You just need a flouncy dress, the milkmaid hat, and her staff.”
“No! It needs to be something more… adult.”
“Go as Slutty Bo Peep!”
“No!” I laugh.
“Why not? All the other girls are gonna dress slutty and you know it. Or have you never been to a high school Halloween party?”
“I’ve been to plenty. I know nothing is too slutty for Slut-O-Ween. But I need something better than Slut Bo Peep,” I titter.
“It’s Slutty Bo Peep.”
“Whatever!” I laugh. “I don’t even know what that is!”
“Bo Peep in a G-string.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“It will be when you go as her.” Mimi is loving this and has been torturing me with bad ideas for an hour.
“No, Meems! No Slutty Bo Peep, no Slutty Little Mermaid, no Slutty Eloise at the Plaza, and no Slutty Dora the Explorer! And stop trying to ruin my childhood already!”
She laughs, “How about we both go as Slutty M&M’s. I’ll be red, you be yellow.”
“Peanut or plain?”
“Which is more slutty?” she winks.
“No-a!” I giggle. “You’re supposed to ask which is less slutty, Meems! Less! Not more! Have you never been laid?”
“Not lately,” she laughs. “Have you?”
I blush, “We were talking about costumes! Not my sex life!”
“Okay, okay. We’ll go as peanut M&Ms, minimal slut.”
“Now that I would do. If I can wear a giant no-slut M&M candy shell.”
“Fine, but you have to at least wear high heels and fishnet stockings.”
“I guess I can do that. I already do for work.”
“See?” she laughs. “We can totally pull it off. You and me as sexy M&Ms. Not slutty. Just sexy.”
“Love it. But you don’t have an invitation,” I pout.
She shrugs. “Maybe Chase’ll invite me. We still have a few more days.”
“Doesn’t Prince have to invite you? It’s his party.”
“They’re friends. Put in a good word for me.”
“I will.” Then, for no reason whatsoever, I’m overcome by emotion and I tear up. I try to sniff it back, but I can’t. The tears pour out of me, dribbling down my face. I wipe them away guiltily. I hate crying in front of other people.
“What’s wrong, Mare Bear?” Mimi asks frowning with genuine concern.
“N-n-n-nothing,” I sputter, but the tears won’t stop. I cry-laugh, “Look at me. I’m pathetic.”
“No you’re not. What is it, Mare?” She hops from her bed to sit by my side and puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. “What? Tell me?”
“It’s just—” I know I’m red faced and ready to break down into blubbery body-wracking sobs. It takes everything I have to hold it back. I haven’t had a girlie-girlfriend since losing my mom. She was the best girlfriend ever. When I was with her, it was nothing but dresses and tresses twenty-four seven. It’s been very hard not having that sort of feminine connection in my life all these years.
Worse, I never get along with girls my age. Everything always turns catty, they inevitably plot against me, and I end up friendless.
But I get along with Mimi.
She could never
replace my mom, but Mimi is easily the next best thing. In this place, having her as my friend is the only thing keeping me going some days. She’s a shield from the casual cruelty that permeates the academy. I never let the mean treatment from the Fundies and the faculty get to me, but it builds up, and sometimes you have to let it out like now.
I collapse into Mimi’s arms and whimper, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Meems.”
“Awww,” she coos and hugs me lovingly. “Don’t worry, Mare Bear. You’ve got me. Besties forever, right?”
“Right.” That’s when I lose it and I do sob.
No girl my age has ever called me her bestie.
Not one.
This moment is the shining diamond in the dark and dreary coal mine of my friendless life. I’ll never forget it.
Or Mimi’s friendship.
It means the world to me.
<(—)>
“How do I look?” I ask Mimi a week later. We’re in my and “Azzie’s” room, no Azzie. With no full-length mirrors anywhere in the Convent, I need a second pair of eyes.
“Slutty as hell,” she grins.
“Really?” I whine.
“Kidding. You look hot as hell, Mare Bear. Totally badass.”
“I don’t feel badass,” I sigh. Or hot as hell. I never do. But I’m not admitting that. I prefer to bask in Mimi’s compliment for at least a few minutes before the truth takes over.
“Well, you look it.”
We’re standing in my dorm room and I’m dressed as Charlize Theron’s character from one of my fave badass babe movies, Mad Max: Fury Road. For me, it’s hardly a costume. Sleeveless white T-shirt with the neck torn into cleavage. A bunch of leather belts around my waist like a corset, borrowed from some work-study boys Mimi knows. My dark jeans and Doc Marten boots. A lone black shoulder pad stolen from the football team. Don’t ask how Mimi got that. She assures me she didn’t steal it. Supposedly someone gave it to her, which no doubt involved stealing. The pad is attached to the belt corset with old rope we found in the Convent’s storage room. For the mechanical robot hand, we took a leather work glove and spray-painted it silver. I got that stuff from Giant Jonah. He said they had it lying around over at the Plant Services building. For the chainmail skirt thing dangling from the front of my belt, we spray painted a ratty old rag silver. I didn’t have anything to make the circle-of-flames belt buckle, but Jonah gave me an old gear he found. Close enough. Jonah really is a sweetheart. It was Mimi’s idea to age everything with wisps of black spray paint (also from Jonah) and rubbing it in the dirt outside.
“I can’t believe how good it turned out,” I say, looking down at everything.
“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” she grins. “I love that you don’t even need a mask.”
“Yeah.” From the eyes up, my face and forehead are black and sooty like Furiosa’s. That was easy. Black eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner liberally applied.
“That is like the smokiest smoky eye look I’ve ever seen.”
“Right?” I laugh. Now that my scabs from Emily Calhoun are completely gone, and thank my lucky stars there’s no scars, we did consider adding some fake ones but I decided not to bother. The eye makeup is more than enough.
“Are you ready?”
“Um…” I’m actually crazy nervous about going to Prince’s party alone tonight. We couldn’t get an invite for Mimi no matter how hard we tried. This means I’ll be going into the viper pit of Rich Boys and Rich Girls on my own. “Sort of?” I offer nervously.
“Don’t worry, Mare Bear. Looking like this, you’ll slay everyone at the party.”
“If I had Grayson’s knife, I would.”
“Vicious,” she giggles. “Don’t worry. You’re going to have the time of your life. It’ll be fine. Just have fun.”
“I don’t even know where it is yet! We’re supposed to find out tonight. The Fundies who’re going are probably getting texts on their phones or whatever, but I never gave my burner phone number to anybody.”
“Prince knows where your room is from sending the invitation. He’ll make sure you know.”
“Unless he’s pranking me and never shows up.”
“He gave you the invitation. He’ll be here.”
“I hope so.”
“I guess we wait?”
“I guess.”
We both sit down on the beds.
“Any sign of Azzie lately?” Mimi asks.
“No, but I’ve seen a lot of her twin ‘sister’ Elizabeth.”
“I know I saw Azzie going out of the Convent the other day.”
“Yeah, but did you see her and Eliza-bitch at the same time?”
“No. Maybe they hate each other. You know, they avoid each other or whatever.”
“Or maybeeeee… they’re the same person! I’m telling you, Meems! It’s all an elaborate gaslight.”
“Why would they gaslight you?”
“Who says they’re just gaslighting me? What if they’re doing it to everyone?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. For all we know—”
A loud knock at the door startles us both.
“Brawny,” Mimi hisses. “We’re being too loud. If we’re not careful, she’s going to cut our tongues out.”
I grimace at that image. “Sorry, Ms. Braunschott! We’ll be more quiet.”
The knock becomes a pounding.
I jump up with an annoyed sigh and go open the door. “I said we’d be—! Oh, shit!” I gasp and take a step back.
Filling my doorway is a giant lion man holding a cane. He has a massive mane of blond hair and is wearing a royal blue colonial suit with elaborate gold embroidery. His face is leonine and beastly, but in a dreamy way that betrays a certain irresistible appeal. Only the eyes I recognize. Piercing blue.
“Prince?” I ask.
“I’d roar,” he quips, “but I wouldn’t want to frighten you ladies.”
“Nice costume,” Mimi gawks. “Is it like, from a movie or whatever?”
“It’s from the Manhattan Opera Company in New York. This is one of the rejected designs for the upcoming production of Mozart’s unfinished Beauty & the Beast opera.”
“Is that even a thing?” I scoff.
“It will be next year,” Prince grins.
“Once Mozart finishes it?” Mimi asks.
“Something like that,” he says.
I ask, “If it’s not out yet, what’re they doing giving you one of their costumes?”
“I told you, this is a rejected design. When I found out they weren’t using it, I snapped it up.”
“How do you know these things?” I laugh.
“I’m well connected,” he says with enough arrogance to inflate a blimp.
“The makeup is incredible,” Mimi says, admiring his beastly face and mane of hair. She’s right about the makeup. If anything, it accentuates his hard charm. There’s just enough to shape his nose like a lion’s, and give him whisker dots, but the rest of his face, jawline and beard stubble are all his. “Who did it?”
“A makeup effects artist from Hollywood.”
“Hollywood?” I snort. “That’s nowhere close to here.”
“I had them flown in for the weekend,” Prince smiles.
“To do your makeup,” I say with rhetorical disgust.
“To do my makeup,” he agrees with syrupy pride.
I roll my eyes and say to Mimi, “Rich people.”
She smirks at him, “You are such a Fundy, Prince.”
“I prefer the term filthy rich. My money is my own to do with as I please, ladies.”
I snark, “Junior Shakespeare is back in the house.”
“For sure,” Mimi giggles.
In a perfect Australian accent, Prince says, “Crikey, you two up yourself Sheilas defo need to get your heads outta your lappies and spend less time on Facey and go back to the bush where you can both get stuffed, I reckon.”
Mimi and I stare at each other a moment
before bursting into laughter.
Prince grins.
“Wait,” I say, “you’re not Australian, are you?”
“No. I spend a lot of time surfing there when it’s winter here. Been going since I was little. I’ll be there over winter break. Or maybe Fiji or South Africa, depending on the weather.”
“Really?”
He nods.
“Wow. I’ve never been out of the state.”
“I can arrange to change that,” he says mysteriously. “Before that happens, we have a party to attend.”
“To attend,” I mock.
“Yup.”
“Okay, I have to ask. What’s with the weird Shakespeare thing?”
“Old habits.”
“Huh?”
“Freshman etiquette. You spend an entire year learning how to tawlk prawperly,” he finishes with a crusty British accent. “It’s mandatory for paying styoodents.”
I snicker, “You sound like Mr. Ralston.”
“He teaches it.”
“That explains it.” I won’t tell him how impressed I am by his accents. They’re really good. He could be an actor.
“As I was saying, we have a party tyoo attend.” He offers his hand and glances at Mimi. “I’ll have her back before the sun comes up.”
“Don’t look at me,” she laughs. “Take her to Fiji or wherever!”
I’m so happy it’s a Saturday and I don’t have to work Sunday. I’d go to Fiji in a heartbeat.
“Another time,” Prince smiles. “Who’re you supposed to be, Mary?”
“Your worst nightmare,” I smirk.
“I can see that,” he grins.
“I’m Imperator Furiosa.”
“From Mad Max?”
“Uh huh. Do you like it?” I look down at my costume. “Me and Mimi made it. It’s not Hollywood or extra like yours, I know, but I thought we did a good job for it being budget.”
“It’s terrific. Better than anything I could do without paying someone else to do it for me.”
“Humble-bragger,” Mimi mumbles.
“I’m never humble about my bragging,” he winks at her and offers me his white-gloved hand. “Shall we?”
I take it and immediately feel the heat. Merely touching this young man is enough to make me tingle. Butterflies launch themselves up my arm and swirl around my heart, sending warm rain cascading down to my toes.
Rich Boys vs. Poor Boys (The Cruel Kings of Castle Hill Academy, Book 1) by Devon Hartford kd103 Page 20