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The same Nero Lucian who is determined to sink his paws into my Golden Boy. No, not mine, but that didn’t matter, not when the Lucians are involved. I think of what Noah told me about his talk with Eli, how Nero tried to give him a job. It’s obvious the stepson Nero spoke of is Eli.
I think of Eli reaching out to us today, and I wonder, I wonder, if Eli has enough darkness in his heart that he might consider Nero’s offer.
But I can’t believe Eli would be involved in extorting Ms. Drysdale. She is his favorite teacher, and there’s no way she’s done anything to deserve this. But I have to remember that I broke something vital inside Eli when I revealed my lies, and the ruined human I left behind might be capable of anything.
Have I driven the Golden Boy of Stonehurst Prep straight into my enemy’s arms?
I wait until I hear the door clang shut, then ease open the closet door and step outside. I debate knocking on Ms. Drysdale’s door, but I can’t say anything as Mackenzie Malloy that she wants to hear.
I remember when Ms. Drysdale took me to her office after Cleo stole my clothes. She lent me her own clothing, and I noticed the blanket under her desk, the takeout containers littering the room, the suitcase peeking out from behind the filing cabinet in the corner. Ms. Drysdale is the nicest teacher in this school, the only person who believed me. She clearly lives in her office, and someone was trying to shake her down for money she clearly doesn’t have.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Claudia
By the time I reach the cafeteria, I’m a ball of nerves. Today’s menu is tofu-centric and I can’t stomach it, so Noah and I head to the library. I’m still hopelessly behind in all my classes, and he refuses to write my essays for me, even though that would be easier than trying to teach me four years of high school knowledge in thirty-minute intervals.
The Stonehurst Prep library is pretty cool. It’s a rabbit-warren of curving shelves occupying an L-shaped space between three of the oldest wings – an architectural masterpiece of the old and new, designed by a clever Turkish-American architect with a flair for the dramatic. Sunlight streams in from large skylights, and although we’re not supposed to talk in here beyond quiet study, there are plenty of hidden corners where Noah and I can set up camp.
Noah heads to his favorite one now, a little mezzanine behind the computer lab with only one narrow staircase for access. He drags me along behind him, muttering titles of the books he wants to collect for our history assignment. I think he’s grateful for something normal to think about. Pity, since I’m about to burst his bubble with the news of what I overheard in Ms. Drysdale’s office—
Wait a second.
What’s that?
I stop in my tracks, my whole body stiffening. I rub my eyes, but when I remove my hands I see that I’m not mistaken. It’s no mirage.
There, in front of me, is Eli Hart, looking hot as fuck with a blond curl falling over his eye and his mouth set in a serious line. This in itself is not unusual – Eli’s competing with Noah for brainiac of the school, so it’s totally normal to see him tucked up in a cozy corner with a pile of beanbags stacked around him like a fort. What is unusual is who he’s snuggled up with, their heads bent close together as if they’re sharing the secrets of the universe.
It’s George.
Claudia
George and Eli?
The picture of the two of them together haunts me for the rest of the day, duking it out with the image of Gabriel locked in a cell. It doesn’t help that Isaac finds me after Women’s Studies class and asks me shyly if George is still single. “She keeps ghosting me and not answering my texts, and I’ve seen her hanging with Eli Hart at school. I thought he had a thing for you, but if he and George are an item, could you tell me? I don’t want to harass her if she’s not interested.”
He sounds so dejected. I assure Isaac that everything is fine and George is still crazy about him, even though I honestly don’t know anymore. When I saw them together at the football game, I thought they were being friendly, but now I’m not so sure.
When Isaac is out of sight, I slam my fist into my locker, leaving a second dent in its formally pristine surface.
As soon as the final bell rings, I rush to the gym to see Antony, hoping he’s managed to find out something about Gabriel. But he’s already left. A text beeps on my phone.
I’m needed at the club. I’ll be home tonight with news. Don’t go to the station yourself or send the Dark Horse or do anything else stupid. You can’t help him.
Goddamn Antony, he knows me too well. There’s nothing for me to do but go back to Malloy Manor to stew in my nervous rage.
Noah makes extra-strong coffee for both of us and spreads out his homework across the ballroom. Queen Boudica leaps on his history project, spreading papers everywhere. Noah growls at her, but five minutes later he’s on the floor tickling her stomach, his assignment forgotten.
She’s got him wrapped around her little paw, which is as it should be. Noah may be a dark prince, but he knows when to bow to a queen.
I tap my ailing phone against the table to make it work (poor thing is on its last legs) and stare down at the pictures I snapped on my phone for potential future purposes. George and Eli? I can’t believe it. They look so cozy together, smushed up in the beanbags whispering to each other while they point to something on George’s laptop. It could just be an assignment they’re working on, but why lie to me about it? And after the football game, too…
I can’t see George cheating on Isaac. So why did she lie?
She did it so smoothly, too. She’s a natural. I should take lessons from her.
At least looking at the pictures is more fun than social media right now. The story of Gabriel’s ‘confession’ has spread across the world. Musicians are posting their own stories and videos from tours with Octavia’s Ruin, building a narrative of Gabe as this out-of-control drug fiend who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow most of the time. That last part is true enough, and everything is just this side of believable that it’s tough to read.
