“It’s a Hotsy-Totsy—you drink it for luck, or good times, or any occasion, if you want. It’s the real reason I couldn’t stay in Bellamy. The whole island is dry!” Poppy wrapped her arm around Enne’s shoulders. “You’re about to bethrilledthat you took a gap year. And that you met me.”
Poppy clinked glasses with Enne and Lola and downed nearly all of her Hotsy-Totsy at once. “So are you from Bellamy, as well?” she asked Lola, and Lola nearly spit out her drink.
“No. I’m not. I’m, um, starting my first term at the university in September. I’ll be studying history.”
Poppy laughed. “Don’t tell that to my father. History is a passion of his. He’d talk your ears off.”
“I don’t know—I’d be rather interested in what he has to say. He studied history, too, didn’t he?” Lola eyed Poppy seriously. “And journalism?”
Poppy shifted and took another sip of her drink. “I’m surprised you know that. He did, before he switched to law. It’s not really something he likes to talk about.”
“Why not?” Lola pressed.
“Oh, he failed at it miserably, I think.” Poppy quickly reached for the magazine again and launched into a discussion about one of its writers. The whole time, Lola bit her lip and sipped little from her glass.
By the time Grace returned, Enne and Poppy had grown gradually more buzzed and giggly. Enne realized she very much liked Poppy. She was brazenly frank and easy to talk to, and no matter how out of place Lola seemed, Poppy went out of her way to try to include her in the conversation. Enne’s logic told her Poppy was an advantageous link to Worner—and her homesickness told her Poppy was a perfect distraction from the affairs of the North Side.
“Well?” Poppy asked, examining Grace’s sly smile. “How did it go?”
Grace wiped away her smudged lipstick with the back of her hand. “I’ve been very entertained. He was about as charming as old tuna salad, but I’ve had three of...whatever those are.” She pointed at Enne’s Hotsy-Totsy. “And I’ve complimented almost every single girl here, like, twice. That’s three drinks. Twenty girls. Sixty compliments.”
Lola furrowed her eyebrows as Grace crashed onto the chaise between them. “Not sure that’s right.”
“I am acounter,” Grace said sternly. “I’m always right.” She looked at the magazine spread across their laps. “What did I miss?”
“Poppy’s trying to set Enne up.” Lola crossed her arms. “I’m sure we can all imagine how well that will turn out.”
“With who? Him?” Grace snorted, pointing at the photograph of a young man wearing a clover-green suit. “She’d eat him alive.”
Enne flushed. “What does that mean?” She, for one, liked the boy’s genuine smile. It was refreshing. If Vianca was going to be dragging her to several of these parties, she didn’t see why she couldn’t turn them into more distractions.
Poppy’s eyes lit up. “Do I get to hear secrets?”
“They just like to tell stories,” Enne said hurriedly.
“Well, I’m glad to hear those, too. The scarier the better.”
Grace grinned. “They’reveryscary. I should warn you.”
“I’m a big girl. Scare me.”
“Well, I once heard a street legend. It’s from the North Side.” Grace paused dramatically, waiting for Poppy to widen her eyes and think better of her request. When Poppy only leaned in further, she continued. “About eighteen years ago, there was a street lord named Veil. Of all the legends, he isthelegend. He built the North Side into what it is today.”
“Ooh, I haven’t heard this one,” Poppy purred. Enne recognized the story as one Grace had already told her—and one Levi and Jac often bickered about.
“During the Great Street War, Veil made the city a promise. He said that if you wrote the name of your enemy on any wall of the North Side, then he would personally see to your enemy’s death. So, as you can imagine, the walls were soon covered in names, and he drew them like a lottery. With Veil as lord, anyone could be a killer. Cross someone, and you could end up dead tomorrow.”
Enne shivered. What a horrifying idea. Poppy was grinning beside her, as though Grace’s story was a fairy tale.
“They say copycats still exist, even now,” Grace murmured. “That if you find yourself in the Deadman District, and you cross paths with your own name...you won’t live to see morning.”
“What did this Veil character look like?” Poppy asked. “I bet he was good-looking.”
Grace laughed. “They say he kept his whole face covered. To this day, no one knows what he looked like. He asked to be hanged and buried like that, and they have to honor last requests...even from criminals.” Grace grinned and nudged Lola’s side. “Tell her the one about the Bargainer.”
Lola scoffed. “But that isn’t history. The Bargainer isn’treal—”
“Depends on who you ask.”
