William raised a brow cockily. “You think I’d just let this go?”
“You have no choice.”
His eyes narrowed, a smile suddenly breaking onto his lips, causing a heavy pound through my chest. He was adoringly handsome, and I could tell he thought it might give him some kind of leverage. But not with me.
“Who said I wasn’t going to cooperate?”
“What?”
I quickly shut my gaping mouth and reprimanded myself internally. I couldn’t be caught off guard. If he knew my aim was to bring down him and his friends for what they did, then why would he play along?
“Maybe I’d still be willing to help you,” he said.
“Why?” Until now, I’d expected William to be predictable. He was turning out to be anything but.
His eyes twinkled as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because maybe Monica deserves it.”
My eyes widened. “If you . . . if you knew, then why did you let it happen?” My voice broke, my throat thick with emotion.
He was silent for a moment. “Like I said, our world’s more complicated than you think.”
My expression hardened. I didn’t know whether to be pissed off that he knew the truth about what his friends did to Monica or relieved that he seemed willing to help.
“Which is why you need me if you want to get in.” He began to pace, the glimmering city a backdrop to his silhouette.
“How?” I asked, hating how long he was taking to get to the point.
“I’ll need time,” he explained. “If we rush, it will seem temporary. They’ll need to know you’re a permanent fixture if you want any power.”
My mind fumbled over his words. Permanent fixture. My plan was to have this over with as soon as possible.
“I know you’re impatient,” he said, reading my thoughts. “But you’ll just have to trust me.”
We were at a stalemate.
My attention returned to him, sizing him up as I channeled strength into my tone. “Then tell me your plan and stop being vague, William.”
He sighed. “Nobody calls me William. It’s Will. And it’s vague because it won’t be fixed until we know how they’ll react.”
I didn’t want to exactly jump to nickname basis with William Bishop. We weren’t here to be pals. I nodded. Initiation into their group wouldn’t be straightforward.
“So, where do we start?”
He moved closer to me, as if invisible figures in the dark might overhear our plan. “Tomorrow afternoon. At Jermaine’s.”
“A coffee shop?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Yep. It’s a popular place. I know Lola, Sophie, and Maddy usually go there after school.” He exhaled quickly, and I could feel his cool breath on my cheeks. “If we show up, it will catch their attention.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to go on a date,” he said.
My breath hitched in my throat. “I am not dating you!”
He chuckled. “Of course not. That’s the beauty of our deal. It’s not real, but they’ll think it is.”
“Why do we need to date? Why can’t we just, I don’t know, be friends? Introduce me as your long-lost cousin or something?”
He shook his head. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“If you want them to really notice you, then you need to make them jealous.”
It was clever, really. It wasn’t a secret that William Bishop rarely dated. I didn’t even remember the last time he’d had a girlfriend, and so a new one would spark all kinds of gossip. And jealousy.
He’d clearly put a lot of thought into this. That, or he was setting me up and risking his family’s reputation.
“I do have one request, though,” William said when I didn’t reply. “If I help you, I need to be exempt from your plans. You can’t take me down.”
I raised a brow. “Scared?”
He gave me a stern look. “I’m serious.”
“Fine,” I said. But I didn’t mean it for a second. He was on my list, after all.
A silence fell between us, and I found myself thinking of Monica again. “How did you find out?”
“About you and Monica?” he asked. I nodded in response. “The yearbook from when we were freshmen.”
“Wow, you did do your research.” I sighed bitterly. Since the beginning of the year, I’d erased what I could of my friendship with Monica from the public eye, deleting my social media accounts and making sure what pictures were left were private, something I knew she’d be pissed about. I needed to make sure it wasn’t easily accessible. But of course, it was impossible to get everything.
“Let’s just hope none of the others do the same,” he said carefully. “You can’t look suspicious. I hope you’re a damn good actor.”
I shrugged. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
“This isn’t a joke. I’m putting a lot on the line here.”
“What, your cozy little spot with the popular kids?” I asked. The look he sent me in return gave me the chills. “You’re rich and good-looking. You were born into that spot. They won’t take it from you.”
I tried to hide the flush that washed over me from my words. Did I seriously just tell him he was good-looking? Like he even needed the ego boost.
“Here’s a question, then,” he said. “If all it takes is to be pretty and rich, why aren’t you already up there? Your family is ridiculously wealthy.”
“Because I didn’t want to be up there.”
“You choose to be invisible,” he clarified. “You know how much damage they can do. I don’t want to be on their bad side because you screw me over.”
I pressed my lips together tightly. “I’ll do my best.”
William gave me a guarded look. “I’ll take you home.”
The drive home was silent, giving me time to mull over the plan. As much as I hated to admit it, it seemed ideal. An easy way in, and an easy way out. I could only hope it’d give me the access I needed to truly expose them.
As I unclipped my seat belt and opened the door of William’s idling car, I gave him one last glance.
“So we have a deal?”
He gave a small nod. “This starts tomorrow.”
Stage Three
Initiation
Four
Dear Monica,
How stupid that we once thought that having it all meant a Level One boyfriend and a car. Life seemed so simple back then. Anyway, fast-forward a few years and I have both.
Ha, got you. I’m just kidding. Half kidding. I have a car. You know that already, though. The Level One boyfriend is just a ruse. I’m telling you first before it’s all over Instagram. William Bishop isn’t my boyfriend. If he was, you’d be the first to know.
After all, we had a pact, right? No secrets.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.
Love, Chloe
IF YOU’D TOLD me last year that I’d be spending my Monday-morning free period balancing on the toilet seat in an out-of-order stall, I would have snorted in laughter.
But a lot had changed since last year.