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“When?”
Anya doesn’t even have to think about it. “Not this weekend, but the next.”
“Classy.”
“Obviously, we’re not talking about bringing a keg to the gravesite.” Anya pops a grape into her mouth and meditatively chews on it. “Well, I hope that’s not what people are talking about. Drake hasn’t said anything to you?”
“He has not.” I spear a piece of cantaloupe with my fork, imagining for a split second that it’s his face. “I didn’t see him all weekend.”
“Is everything okay?”
I shrug, pushing the food around on my plate without taking a bite. Somehow, I’m not hungry anymore. “Just peachy. Never better. I literally could not be happier if there was a rainbow shining out of my ass.”
A small smile plays at the corner of her lips. “That great, huh?”
“Sometimes I wonder what I’m even still doing here…”
A shadow falls over the table as I trail off. Call it a sixth sense, but I’m not surprised when I look up to see Olivia standing behind one of the many empty chairs.
She doesn’t even look at me.
“There you are, Anya. I’ve been waiting to run in to you. We need to exchange numbers.” Olivia’s voice is artificially bright, like they’ve been the best of friends for years. “Did I just hear you talking about Brady’s funeral service?”
Anya briefly glances at me before answering. “Um, yeah. I heard a bunch of people are going.”
“Definitely all the important ones,” Olivia responds airily. “In fact, a few of us are planning to ride down together. Maisie’s father booked her a presidential suite at the Mandarin Oriental for the entire weekend. We’re going to skip class for a spa day in the city on Friday, so we feel our very best for Brady’s service. You know, to honor his memory.”
My voice is a sarcastic murmur. “I’m sure getting blackout drunk in a hotel suite after his funeral is what Brady would have wanted.”
Anya clears her throat. “That sounds like fun.”
“So you’re coming with?”
Anya glances at me, obvious eagerness in her gaze. “We’d love to come along, right?”
“Sorry, but we’ve only got one spot left.” Olivia does a decent job of pretending to sound apologetic. “We’re taking Maisie’s Range Rover and all the other seats are already spoken for.” She barely glances at me, addressing her words to the air over my head. “I’m sure you understand.”
I understand that Olivia is having the time of her life acting like a bitchy, popular girl because she never got to experience it when we were actually in high school. I did my best to include her when we were kids, but she never really got along with my friends and struggled to make her own. But she doesn’t have to be that girl anymore. The shy and quiet Olivia who always tripped over her own words and never figured out how to fit in died a year ago.
She can pretend that this is just her acting like Evangeline, but I was never this much of a cunt.
I force a smile, jaw clenching hard enough to crack diamonds. “Hope you girls have fun. It is a funeral, after all.”
Anya’s gaze pings back and forth as she worries at her lower lip. She seems to come to a sudden decision and squares her shoulders.
“I’ll just take my car,” she says brightly. “Then we can invite Felicia and Olivia along, too.”
Felicia looks up for the first time at the sound of her name. It’s obvious that she hasn’t heard a word of the conversation leading up to this point. “For what?”
“Brady’s funeral weekend. Everyone’s going, so it’ll be fun,” Anya explains quickly. “Just don’t think about it too much.”
Felicia raises an eyebrow, but obviously decides not to ask any questions in favor of returning to her studies. “Oh, cool.”
Olivia’s lips have narrowed into a thin line. “I’ll have to ask Serena, because she already invited some people. I’m pretty sure we don’t have any room left in the suite.”
It isn’t a mistake that Olivia hooked herself up with the two bitchiest girls on campus and their group of loyal followers. The only surprising thing is how much some of these girls act like they’re still in middle school. Public invites to exclusive parties are just bad manners.
“Oh, we can get our own room,” Anya replies. “No big deal.”
