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Piper knew all about the society’s operations despite her status as a second-degree member, as she’d been told by her parents when they roped her into helping them lie to Amerie and drive her insane with all the noises, rumors, and fake night terrors. So I’d figured—why not use the exact same tactics against her to get what we wanted?
If we pulled it off effectively, we could convince Piper that she’d landed herself in trouble with the higher-ups in the Rosmerta Society for accidentally revealing too much to someone who wasn’t supposed to know anything. Then she’d think she was being harassed and targeted the same way Amerie was, and she wouldn’t be able to trust any of her friends, or even her own parents.
With any luck, she’d eventually freak out enough to break down and confide everything to Amerie, as she’d think they were in the same boat. Hopefully, she’d also reveal the location of the Playground during that breakdown.
It was a little twisted and evil to make Piper think the whole world had turned against her, but she deserved it for everything she’d done to Amerie. It was also our best shot at getting the Playground location, because she was only seventeen and therefore a lot easier to manipulate than a fully-grown third-degree society member.
Today’s little buzzing trick was small, but it was just the beginning. Tomorrow, we were ramping things up in a major way.
Piper had no idea what was about to hit her.
Amerie stumbled into the toilet stall, one hand over her mouth. Her face was a sickly shade of green. I followed closely behind, holding her hair back as she leaned over the bowl and retched.
“It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “Just let it out.”
She retched again, and the acrid smell of vomit filled the small space. I rubbed her back with one hand, still holding her hair with the other.
After what felt like an eternity, Amerie finally stopped throwing up and slumped down against the wall, her breathing ragged. “Sorry,” she murmured.
The bell rang, letting us know we had five minutes until our next class. I ignored it and crouched to stroke Amerie’s hair. “You don’t need to apologize,” I said. “None of this is your fault.”
She grimaced. “The morning sickness is getting worse and worse every day,” she muttered. “I’m worried they’re going to take me to the Playground soon.”
“You’re only nine weeks pregnant,” I replied in a low voice. “Zara told you they’re planning to take you at the twelve week mark, right? So we still have three weeks.”
Amerie nodded. “I know, but I think they’ll take me early if I start to show really obvious symptoms.”
“Why?”
“Because if everyone in town figures out I’m pregnant, it’ll look way more suspicious when I disappear,” she said. “So I think the society will want to take me before everyone starts to suspect stuff.”
Fuck. That was a good point.
I took a deep breath and steeled my jaw. “Just try your best to hide the nausea for now,” I said. “You aren’t showing, so no one has any reason to think you’re pregnant as long as they don’t see you throwing up.”
Truthfully, I was terrified that the society would take her away from me, but I couldn’t let her see that fear. I had to be strong for her; be the rock she could cling to until there was nothing left for her to be afraid of.
“I’m trying, but it’s so hard,” she said, rubbing her left temple. “I totally gagged over breakfast this morning. I managed to cover it up by pretending I hate mango yogurt, but still… I almost threw up on the table in front of everyone.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, stroking her hair. “I wish I could do something to help.”
Her eyes suddenly widened, and she sat up straight, hands patting her blazer pockets. “Shit,” she whispered. “My phone.”
“It’s okay. We left it with Addy out in the hall, remember? No one can hear us.”
“Oh. Right.” Her shoulders slumped with relief. “God, this is driving me crazy. I never know when it’s safe to speak.”
“You’re safe now. Don’t worry.” I extended a hand to help her up. “Go and rinse your mouth out at the sink to get rid of the stomach acid. I’ll clean this.”
As I spoke, I gestured at the splattered toilet seat with my free hand.
Amerie winced as she rose to her feet. “You don’t have to do that, Jensen.”
“Yeah, I do, and I really don’t mind.”
She gazed up at me, brows knitted. “I know I’ve asked you this a million times, but are you sure you’re okay with all of this?” she asked, soft voice tinged with nerves. “I mean… cleaning up piles of vomit probably isn’t what you were hoping for when we started dating.”
“I told you, I’m going to take care of you. Even if it means doing this,” I said, motioning toward the toilet again.
