Page 16 of Deposed

The hazel-eyed girl leaned toward us on the back legs of her seat, salivating. “Is it true what they’re saying about the boys?”

“No,” I said.

“But the photos are—”

“You just asked if it was true,” I snapped.

She pouted. “I got off with Blake last year, as did most of the girls on this table. I just want to know if he’s a homo. I mean, do I have anything to worry about?”

“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes.

The girl lowered her gaze and mumbled something incomprehensible. I curled my lip. She was an idiot. A stupid sheep who followed whoever barked the loudest. And right now, it was Coates and the doppelgängers.

“Use your brain,” I spat. “In one breath you tell me that you’ve all fooled around with Blake, and in another, you’re asking if he’s gay? It’s this kind of attitude that makes people afraid to come out.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I thought you might know the facts, seeing as you’re their girlfriend or something.”

I was about to rant at her when Rita spoke. “Let’s not gossip about people behind their backs.”

Everyone around the table murmured their agreement and continued eating. I lowered myself into the seat and caught sight of a limo whizzing past the side windows. The boys were either going to Edward’s house or to Jean-Paul and Françoise’s restaurant to plan their next course of action. A chill ran down my back. I really hoped I didn’t factor in any of their schemes.

* * *

The next day, the head table was removed from the dining room, leaving everyone to eat in the general area. No matter how much Coates tried to assert his dominance and get it reinstated, it didn’t work. Each mealtime, the staff laid special table linen and silverware over whichever table the triumvirate chose, thwarting Coates and the doppelgängers’ attempts to appear special.

Over the next few weeks, the triumvirate quashed any attempts by other boys to victimize them by escalating even the smallest of provocations to violence. Soon, everyone, including Coates, knew not to make sly comments within the earshot of Blake, Henry, or Edward unless they were prepared for a fight and the subsequent detentions and demerits.

One morning at breakfast, Coates sauntered up to our table, holding a folded up copy of a tabloid. “Looks like you made the papers, boys.”

“What are you rambling about now?” asked Henry.

Coates smoothed out a double-page spread of a pair of the photos that had been circulating on the internet. It had been taken moments after I had left the boys alone on the four-poster. Above them was the headline, SIMPSON-WEST GAY ROMP.

I held my breath. Would this result in another fight, or would the boys shrug it off?

Blake stared down at the paper and pursed his lips. “If I had known I would end up in the news again, I would have worn something a little more dignified than the gladiator outfit.”

Henry folded his arms across his chest. “I told you to come as a matador.”

“Next time, I’ll dress as a tango dancer,” he replied. “Something to pay homage to my Argentinian roots.”

I exhaled my relief. It looked like violence wouldn’t break out, after all.

Coates’ thick brows drew together. “Don’t you care that they’ve published a picture of you kissing another boy?”

“Why would I?” Blake’s brows rose. “You and I both know I’ve had more girls than you.”

The rugby player’s face reddened. He turned to me and spat, “How could you hang around with them after what they did?”

I picked up a slice of toast from the silver rack and dipped my knife into the butter dish. “What I don’t get is why you’re so interested. Are you curious or something?”

Coates’ face twisted and he glared from Edward, to Henry, to Blake, and then to me. “Trollop.”

I mimed a yawn. “At least I’m getting some, unlike you.”

“She’s got you there, Coates.” Edward raised his glass of orange juice to his lips. “Don’t save the image for those long, lonely nights. I doubt that my friends would appreciate the unwanted attention.”

The rugby player’s nostrils flared, and his lips drew back, revealing clenched teeth. My stomach tightened, and I waited for him to strike, but he crumpled up the paper, threw it on the ground, and stormed back to the table he shared with the doppelgängers.