My eyes found William Bishop, a tall boy with a sharp jaw and dark brown hair. At the moment, William was the most important member of the group.
Because William was my in.
Over the last few months, I’d been carefully mapping out what made each member of Level One tick. Sophie wore secrets like armor, teasing the outside world with a plethora of possible scandals, plenty of potential dirt to be dug up beneath her designer heels. Maddy was the opposite. She was an open book, almost to the point of being an exhibitionist, and I hoped her recklessness would become a powerful tool. Something I could use to catch clues. Lola and Francis ruled the kingdom, but I knew there was more to their relationship than met the eye. And with those two at the peak of Arlington’s hierarchy, there was far to fall when it came to unraveling their games. Zach was ego-driven, and that trait alone meant he’d be easy to knock down. Large egos meant easy self-destruction. And William?
I narrowed my eyes, taking him in. Of all Level One, his reputation appeared the most pristine. That was, until I investigated his family.
My father had showered me with countless gifts throughout my lifetime, but none was as important as the one I’d stolen from his emails two weeks ago. His news corporation had plenty of unpublished stories, thanks to his company accepting some hefty bribes. Dad’s business was dirty, sure, but not quite as scandalous as what I’d found. Charles Bishop, the long-term mayor of Los Angeles, sabotaged his opposition’s campaign by paying off his rival’s assistant, quite possibly the sole reason he wound up in power to begin with. William’s dad was a fraud. My leverage.
“Hey, Jack?” I asked, tearing my gaze from Bishop. “Is there anything on this weekend?”
The most valuable thing about Jack was that he was Level Two through and through. His life revolved around Level One and their social calendar.
“The twins are having a party on Friday since everyone’s finally back in town,” he said.
“Oh, really?” I raised a brow nonchalantly.
“Are you going to come?” Jack asked, surprised.
“Maybe.”
“You totally should. It’s senior year. You have to start being a part of these things, you know?”
There was no way I could miss an opportunity. I needed to confront William Bishop on his own, and everyone knew it wasn’t difficult to get a Level One boy alone at parties.
William was last on my list. In fact, I’d debated for a while whether to add him at all. Even though he was just another spoiled rich boy who ruled the school, he was probably the only one of them who was kind to Monica.
But even then, his kindness wasn’t enough to stop what they did. I’d never tried blackmail before, but there was a first time for everything.
“You’re right,” I said to Jack. “I’ll definitely make an appearance.”
Stage Two
Blackmail
Two
Dear Monica,
You’d think Arlington would be a little darker without its brightest star.
Okay, that was lame. I know. But point is, it isn’t. Nothing’s really changed since you left.
It’s like the start of sophomore year, when you dyed the bottom of your hair neon pink, expecting everyone to be in awe. I’ve always envied your fearless style. But nobody seemed to care. It’s like nobody here notices you unless you’re in with Lola Davenport.
Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with being invisible sometimes. It makes it easier to spy.
Love, Chloe
I FOLDED UP the patterned paper, my fingernails gliding against its edges. I promised her I’d write every day I could. All these letters would drive her crazy, but she should have been here anyway.
My eyes felt like they weighed a ton beneath the charcoal that coated them. It had cost me more than I was willing to admit to stock up my makeup collection, and now, wearing more makeup than I had in my entire life, I started to question whether it was worth it. But if I wanted to take down the Level Ones, I was going to have to blend in with them first.
After a week of eating my lunch with Jack and playing Level Two with his table of friends, it was finally Friday, the night of the Rutherfords’ start-of-semester party. Finally time to go past simply observing the Level Ones and make my first move.
It had taken hours just to shower and primp. My mother, ecstatic that I had the so-called privilege of attending a high school party, had stuck her head into my room at every opportunity, offering me tips and motherly reminders like Don’t take drinks from strangers!
I loved her deeply, really, but my mother could be too enthusiastic for her own good. And I meant enthusiastic about everything. I guess it would take an optimist to stay with my dad.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try the golden dress we picked out at the start of summer?” she asked, her chestnut locks bouncing against her shoulders as she darted into my room again.
“Yes, Mom,” I replied in a clipped tone. I knew the more reasons I offered for why I didn’t want to wear the dress, the more reasons she’d provide for wearing it. It was gorgeous, I’d give her that, with full sleeves and a skirt that fluttered around my knees, but it’d be social blasphemy to wear something last season. The Level Ones would pick it up in an instant.
Instead I was wearing an off-the-shoulder shirt with a patterned skirt and strappy heels, something that felt so unfamiliar it made me uneasy. My wardrobe before this summer was filled with denim jackets and simple silhouettes. I was never attracted to feminine florals or frills like the Level Ones. Though I was only showing a portion of my torso, combined with the amount of my legs visible, I felt exposed.
“Really, this is a pretty casual party. Just trust me,” I reasoned. Mom’s weak spot was the words just trust me. My dad used them on her all the time.
“Well, make sure you’re not out too late. And text me. Really, I don’t mind waking up in the middle of the night to pick you up.”
I gave her a weak smile. She wouldn’t have to worry. I doubted I’d be gone long. “Yes, Mom.”
I’d said yes when Jack offered to Uber with me to the party. The car pulled up outside my house at exactly half past nine, and he let out a low whistle when I slid inside.
“You look great, Chloe.”
“Thanks,” I said, shooting a welcoming smile at Jack as I climbed in next to Claire Waters. I’d known Claire since freshman year, and we occasionally helped each other with homework and exchanged small talk. We hadn’t spoken much since Monica’s rise to Level One. After that it had felt like my connection to our small friend group was fractured. Without my best friend, I’d been lost.
“Seriously, where did you get your top?”
My answer was forgotten when the stereo was turned up too loud for my voice to carry. No longer forced to make conversation, I tried to order my mind. I needed to get William alone.
Arlington’s elite attended parties regularly. The pictures flooded my Instagram feed every weekend, varying from small gatherings to huge events, catering for hundreds of drunk teenagers from Arlington and other private schools in the area.
The Rutherford house was enormous, to no surprise. It was only fitting that they lived in a mansion. After being dropped off, passing through the ten-foot-high gate guarding the perimeter, and making our way up a large, winding driveway, I saw the party was already well underway. People milled on the balcony above us and the front door was spread open to reveal a busy foyer.