“Yeah. It is.” I raised my voice a notch, lifting my chin. “And unlike all of you, I paid my way here with my own damn money, so there’s not a single person you can turn against me to get me kicked out this time.”
Mason’s nostrils flared as he made a noise low in his throat. My gaze darted to his left and right, to Cole and Finn. Cole’s blue eyes were icy, and I’d forgotten how dangerous he looked when he was pissed—how his entire body seemed to grow, taking up more space than should be humanly possible. How hard his features were, how blank they could be.
Finn’s eyes were narrowed, the beautiful honey-brown of his irises partially obscured as he watched me like I might turn into a viper and strike at any moment. He’d gotten more tanned in the past few months, and I had a sudden vivid memory of him and Elijah arguing over who would take me to the best hidden coves and teach me how to surf over the summer.
I hadn’t been prepared for that memory, hadn’t been braced for how much it would hurt, and I yanked my gaze away from the blond football player, focusing back on Mason.
It was easiest to hate him.
“I’m not leaving.” I raised my voice again, speaking to all the gathered students as much as to the Princes themselves. The entire student body would probably be recruited to torture me again, so they might as well hear this too. “I’m not going anywhere. You spent all last semester reminding me I’m a Hildebrand, and you know what? You’re right. Even with all the shit that comes with it, I’m still my mom’s daughter. I’m still a Hildebrand. And I deserve to be here as much as any of you. So if you want me out, you’ll have to carry my body over the fucking threshold.”
I stopped then, my nerves singing, my skin tingling.
I’d practically dared them to attack me, to resort to physical violence if need be, but they had to know I wasn’t going to run away quietly into the night. That they couldn’t play me like they had last time.
For this round of the game, there would be no cruelty disguised as kindness; if they were going to be cruel, they’d have to own that shit.
My stomach clenched, and I was suddenly really glad I’d skipped breakfast. I felt sort of like I had the night of that party when I’d finally snapped and screamed at the four Princes. The night I’d called Mason a pussy and Finn a whore. It felt like I was playing with fire, passing my hand back and forth through a flame and waiting for the moment it burned me.
But I had one more thing to say, and I couldn’t stop until it was all out.
“You hate me?” I kept my voice even. “Fine. I hate you. And maybe you’ve got the whole school on your side, but it doesn’t matter. Everything you do to me, I’ll do right back to you. So be careful what kind of shit you start.”
Finn’s eyes had reversed course somewhere in the middle of my speech, widening instead of narrowing, and his eyebrows were raised almost to his hairline. He looked like he almost might’ve been a little impressed if he weren’t so fucking surprised, and I heard a breath behind me that I thought came from Elijah.
Mason, though?
He looked like he was seriously considering accepting my dare. Like he might grab me by the hair and try to drag me back over the threshold just to prove he could.
Fear hollowed my insides, but I let my outer facade hold me up, standing straight and tall as our gazes locked. We stood like that for several long moments, and when the bell rang, I turned on my heel and shoved past Elijah. None of the Princes made a move to stop me, although I was sure they probably could’ve if they chose to. I walked down the hall without seeing anything, barely aware of the whispers and stares that followed me. A strange combination of dread, relief, and pride filled me.
I had survived.
I had come face-to-face with the subjects of my nightmares, and I had survived.
For now.
The first several periods were a strange blur. It felt weird to sit in classes and listen to the teachers talk about expectations for the school year, syllabi, and grading systems, when all that really felt important was what the Princes would do about the gauntlet I’d thrown down.
A few of the younger, lower-tier kids called me names as I passed them in the hall, and some girl threw a bloody tampon at me in the bathroom, but none of the higher ranked students seemed to know quite what to do with me.
I had to assume it was because the Princes hadn’t decided what do to with me yet, which put their minions in a holding pattern. They’d only found out I was back yesterday, after all. I’d had a few more days than that to strategize, plan my attack, and fortify the wall around my heart.
At lunch, I almost took the coward’s way out and refused to step foot in Astor Hall. But I’d talked a big fucking talk in the morning, and I couldn’t back down now. So I grabbed a tray and stood in line, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich without even reading the menu, then marched to the first empty seat I found and sat in it.
Like a school of fish, all the students at the table turned to look at the Princes. But the four boys coolly ignored them—and me—talking amongst themselves as if they were unaware of anything else in the world.
The students at my table shifted in their seats for a moment, then a sophomore named Abby White stood abruptly, grabbed her tray, and walked to a different table. Her friend Moira followed her, and the rest of the students scurried to do the same. In a matter of minutes, I was sitting at the table by myself.
But the Princes hadn’t tried to kick me out. They hadn’t followed me from table to table demanding that I move.
Which meant they still hadn’t decided what to do with me.
Every bite I ate tasted like rubber and sat in my stomach like lead, but I forced myself to take my sweet-ass time with lunch. Leah, Maggie, and Dan all arrived late, and I saw Maggie and Dan whispering to Leah. But all three of them picked a table by the corner, on the other side of the room from me.
It’s fine. Maybe it’s better that way. The ceasefire with the Princes won’t last forever, and when it’s over, it’s gonna be fucking ugly.
A few minutes before the period was over, I picked up my tray and dumped the remainder of my food in the trash. As I swung my backpack over one shoulder, I swore I could feel the comforting weight of the little black book inside it. I’d bought a small flash drive when I got my new laptop and had wedged it between the pages of the book.
I would keep every dirty secret I found in that book—every recording, every picture. Every bit of evidence I could gather to use against the Princes would sit between those pages, and I’d make sure what I got was good enough to justify the risk I was taking.
I had American Literature after lunch, and Finn was in my class. I could feel his gaze on me, but every time I turned to look at him, he was staring straight forward. Gym was next, and I started working on Mr. Bowen right away, already desperate to return to my little haven on the second floor. Just like when I had asked the first time, he grunted under his breath and gave a half shrug, half nod.
“Yeah, sure. Just don’t make me regret it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. I promise.”
I couldn’t suppress my smile of relief, and even though I didn’t have my ballet shoes or any of my other gear, I went up to the room anyway and did a light workout, letting my body remember the movements it hadn’t done in too many weeks.