I suppose we both have a baseline for honest answers now.
“Any siblings?” I ask her, hoping to ease around to the topic of parents.
“Just me,” Lola says, still smiling.
Now that one’s a little trickier. Lola certainly has the pampered look and confidence of an only child, but she’s not in the Heirs division. So either her father isn’t a boss, which would be strange considering her standing amongst the rest of the Dixie Mafia, or he has a different successor in mind—an uncle or older sibling of Lola.
Fuck, I don’t know which it is. I don’t think I’m very good at this.
“I know you have a sister,” Lola says, softly. “Zoe . . . she’s gorgeous, isn’t she? It’s hard to be the ugly sister.”
Carter Ross snickers from the front row of desks.
I can feel the dozens of eyes watching us, none more than Professor Penmark, who feeds off my discomfort and Lola’s malice like a psychic vampire.
The gloves are coming off—Lola took that shot at me to stoke my emotions. She wants me upset and incautious.
“I always thought Zoe was the prettiest girl at our school,” I reply, calmly.
It’s a subtler jab than Lola’s, and more effective. I’m used to being second to Zoe. Lola doesn’t want to be second to anyone. I see the slight narrowing of her eyes—she didn’t like that at all.
“Zoe ran off with Miles Griffin, didn’t she?” Lola persists. “That’s quite the upgrade from Rocco.”
My hands twitch involuntarily. I really don’t want Lola to pursue that line of questioning. Her card can’t possibly have something on it about Rocco Prince, can it?
Lola sees me flinch. She pounces like a cat on a mouse. “You aren’t jealous, are you? Zoe’s living the dream in L.A., and you don’t even have a boyfriend yet?”
There it is.
I think I know her objective.
“I’ve had plenty of boyfriends,” I lie.
Lola giggles, not believing me for a second.
“Plenty of boyfriends?” She scoffs. “Come on Cat, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
I’m going to have to switch tactics, because if Lola’s objective is to suss out my sexual history, she’s going to figure out that I’m a virgin in two seconds flat.
It’s time to go on the offensive.
“Carter Ross might think you’re dressing up for him,” I say to Lola, “but your aesthetic has Daddy’s Girl all over it. That’s who it’s really for, isn’t it? The pink blush, the strawberry lip gloss . . . I bet if I checked that gold locket you’re wearing, it’s a gift from dear old Dad.”
Lola’s big blue eyes narrow into slits. I’ve already learned that particular tell—it means I hit her in a sensitive spot.
No time to fuck around—I have to press the advantage.
“You don’t have any siblings. And yet you’re not an Heir. Which means no matter how hard you’ve tried to please Daddy, he hasn’t named you his successor.”
The color rises in Lola’s cheeks. She hasn’t answered back.
I’m making wild assumptions, one after another, but I think I’m right.
“Is it plain old sexism? Did you fuck up somehow? Or maybe he just doesn’t know you well enough after his time away? He still sees you as his little baby. Maybe if you try really, really hard, you can prove you’re all grown up now . . .”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Lola snarls at me.
That’s not a denial.
In fact, that’s what people say when the facts are correct but they don’t like your interpretation.
I raise my hand.
“You think you have the intel?” Professor Penmark inquires.
“Yes,” I say. “Lola’s father was in prison.”
Lola’s mouth drops open. Her whole face is now the color of Dixie’s hair.
“You filthy little cunt!” She shrieks.
Before she can slap my head off my shoulders, Professor Penmark steps smoothly between us, plucking Lola’s card out of her hands. I can just make out the single typed sentence:
Find out what age they had their first kiss.
I’m deeply relieved that Lola failed to reach her objective. I’d rather jump out the second-story window than have the entire class find out that I’ve never been kissed, not once in my life.
My satisfaction ebbs away when I catch sight of Lola’s shaking hands and livid face. I just embarrassed her in front of the whole class. And she’s not exactly the forgiving type.
“Not bad,” Professor Penmark tells me. “You didn’t get verbal confirmation from the subject, but implied affirmation can be useful.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever received a compliment from Professor Penmark. I can’t say I enjoyed it—it’s quite unpleasant having him stand this close to me, looking into my face with those dead black eyes.
“Thanks,” I mutter, hurrying back to my seat.
I can practically hear Lola fuming behind me. Waves of loathing radiate in my direction.
Oblivious, or just not giving a shit, Rakel says, “Nice job! I thought you were fucked for sure.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I was betting on you,” Joss Burmingham says, leaning across his desk to give me a little fist bump.
Joss has never spoken to me before. I’ve got to admit, it feels good to earn some admiration outside of our programming classes.
Until Lola hisses at me, “You think that was clever?”
“It’s just an exercise,” I say. “No hard feelings.”
“Get fucked!” Lola barks, only quieting down when Professor Penmark shoots her a look telling her to pipe it so he can continue with his lecture.
I pass the rest of class wondering if I should have just answered Lola’s questions. I could have let her win—it would have been easier.
The other half of me rebels against that idea.
Why does Lola get to be aggressive and cruel, and I just have to roll over and take it?
I saw my opening and I went for it.
Was it a little mean?
Maybe. But that’s why we’re here—to learn how to get what we want.
And in that moment, I wanted to win.
Class ends, and Rakel and I gather up our bags.
Dixie Davis slams into me as she passes, almost dislocating my shoulder.
“Watch it,” she says.
Lola tosses her hair over her shoulder, still fuming.
“Gonna hold onto that one, isn’t she?” Rakel says, watching them stalk off down the hall.
“Apparently,” I sigh.
“Well, good thing we only have pretty much every single class with them,” Rakel laughs, giving me a friendly punch on the very same shoulder Dixie just tried to destroy.
I follow Rakel down the stairs, already losing any sense of pleasure earned by my win.
Fuck me. I’ve gone and made another enemy.
Why can I not go five goddamned minutes without getting myself in trouble?
I’m so consumed by my own thoughts that I run right into Dean Yenin waiting for me outside the Keep.
I know he’s waiting for me by the way he grabs the front of my shirt and lifts me up off my feet, totally unsurprised by my appearance.