After class this morning, I’d heard Sophie Rutherford behind me in the hallway by her locker. Her voice seemed to be on its own unique frequency, making it easy to overhear. Of course, I was all ears. She’d asked Lola to meet her in the girls’ toilets after the next period. She needed to tell her something.
Lola Davenport was the sun to Arlington’s solar system, Sophie orbiting as a close second-in-command. With raven hair and sweet wide eyes that drew adoration with their gaze, Lola had the school wrapped around her little finger. She was easily likable.
But her best friend, Sophie, with ice-cold Rutherford genes and a default resting bitch face, was one indicator that Lola wasn’t as nice as she seemed.
I decided to duck out of class early by faking a headache so I could stake out the girls’ bathroom in the main building. I made a scrappy out of order sign on the back of one of the many anti-drinking posters that plastered the corridor so I wouldn’t be busted spying, before locking myself in the stall. Now all I had to do was wait.
And God, they were taking forever.
My knees were beginning to hurt. Let me tell you, balancing on a toilet was not something you want to do in heeled boots. If they didn’t hurry, I’d have to give up. And if they turned up to talk about lipsticks for twenty minutes, I was going to kill someone.
I was contemplating whether my legs would go numb after a while, or whether I’d be better off amputating them altogether, when the door swung open.
“Jesus, I am sick of having biology this early on a Monday.” Lola sighed dramatically. I heard the thud of her leather bag being plonked on the sink.
“Hey, at least it’s Mr. Hammond,” Sophie’s voice responded. I heard the pop of a lip-gloss bottle opening. “There are worse ways to start your week.”
The door opened again, and the intruder’s footsteps clicked across the tile toward the stalls, making me panic for a second before they entered the stall beside me. Lola and Sophie fell into silence, no doubt waiting to continue their session when the intruder was gone.
When she left after an excruciating three and a half minutes, I heard a musical laugh.
“Oh, that is so gross! Who took that?” Lola’s voice asked.
“Someone on the lacrosse team. They sent it to Zach, who sent it to me,” Sophie boasted. “She needs to control her alcohol.”
“Right? Such an embarrassment. And to think her daddy was just nominated for another Grammy.”
At this, I realized exactly who they were talking about. There was only one girl at our school with a pop star father. Maddy Danton. When I’d seen her at the party on Friday night, she had been stumbling everywhere. A complete mess.
“Should we mail it to him anonymously?” Sophie asked lazily. I could almost picture her leaning carelessly against the basin, amused by what must have been a scandalous snap. “Post it on Instagram for the media?”
“I don’t know. Who’d want to see their daughter like that?” Lola snickered.
“True,” Sophie said.
“No, just keep it up your sleeve. She’s our friend, remember? Tell the boys not to spread it anymore.”
“Maybe she should stop spreading it for your boyfriend.” Sophie snorted.
I had to hold a hand over my mouth to stop from gasping. Now that was juicy. Maddy Danton getting it on—or at least trying to—with Francis Rutherford. Maybe Arlington’s favorite couple wasn’t as golden as they led us to believe. And maybe the girls’ friendship wasn’t as tight as it appeared to the public.
Lola was quiet, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of her reaction.
“You’d think your brother would have higher standards,” Lola finally said in a small voice. Even before everything with Monica, I’d never confused Francis for a nice guy. While his twin sister was subtler in her cruelty, using gossip as her weapon, Francis could regularly be found hazing freshmen and making sleazy comments about the girls at school. Still, I was surprised that he would not only dare to cheat on his girlfriend of three years, but that Lola knew about it. I heard her sigh and a zipper close. “But still. Bitch needs to pay.”
“And this photo isn’t enough?” Sophie asked. “God, she definitely has it coming.”
“She certainly does.” I heard the clatter of products being spilled onto the counter. It was strange that Lola didn’t direct her anger toward her boyfriend. But the girl he was cheating with? I was sure Maddy would be as good as a Level Five when Lola was done with her. Maybe worse.
“Did you catch up with your side guy?”
“He wasn’t there.”
“What, he didn’t go to the party?”
“He doesn’t go to parties,” Sophie said defensively. “Not his scene.”
“I never thought you were into that type,” Lola noted. “Whatever, it’s so weird that you aren’t telling me who he is. Is he, like, older or something?”
“No! I’m just having fun with him. If we go public, I’ll have to have him hang around all the time,” Sophie said, but her voice quieted at the end.
There was a stretch of silence before Sophie spoke again.
“Come on, I said I’d give Zach my Spanish answers,” Sophie said.
Lola sighed. “Okay. I’ll see you at Jermaine’s.”
“Bye, bitch!”
There was a muffled sound that I assumed was them collecting their belongings, and then I heard two pair of heels click their way out of the room.
After the door closed I waited a few moments longer before stepping off the toilet seat and unlocking the stall. I cursed as I regained full feeling in my legs, shaking my ankles out. I made sure to rip the Out of Order sign from the door, relieved that I hadn’t been busted.
The cramped toilet stall I’d spent my morning in was upgraded to a deserted aisle of the library for lunch. Obeying William’s instructions, I’d avoided the cafeteria altogether, waiting for our meeting after school to reveal whatever we were supposed to be. My classes stretched out almost unbearably long, my body riddled with a nervous excitement for what was to come.
William found me after the final bell. It was becoming routine that by three o’clock my feet had enough of being confined in designer heels, and pain shot through my every step, making me crabby.
“Don’t look so miserable to see me, Whittaker,” he said. “This is the part you’ve been waiting for.”
He was right. If I wanted this to work, I had to paint on my game face.
“So what makes it so special?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” he said casually. “Do you want to drop your car at home first?”
I noticed a few students milling around turn their attention to us. They were no doubt watching William, either swooning or desperately trying to squeeze out some gossip. Probably both.
“Sure.”
I didn’t miss the eyes that followed us as we navigated the crowd, or the way our peers parted as we walked down the hallway side by side. I kept hearing snippets of conversation around us.
“Who’s that? Besides Will with the—”
“—I wonder where they’re going? Did she arrive with him this morning?”
“Where did she get those boots?”