Twisted Palace (The Royals #3)

“Making up for lost time, probably,” Hailey suggests.

“Oh right!” the blonde exclaims. “Your dad’s Steve O’Halloran. I forgot about his grand resurrection.”

Val snickers.

“Yeah, he’s definitely making up for lost time,” Blondie agrees.

Val leans around me. “See?” She pokes me lightly. “This is all normal.”

“It totally is,” Hailey agrees. “My dad freaked out when he found a condom in my car. My mom took me to the clinic the next day and put me on birth control. She told me to hide that shit and be more careful next time.”

“But it’s your body,” I point out.

She sidles over. “Your dad is going to want to control you until you’re fifty. My oldest sister is twenty six, has a law degree, and when she came home for Christmas with her boyfriend, my parents made him sleep in the basement. Dads are the worst when it comes to sex.”

“Ella doesn’t have a mom to run interference,” Blondie reminds everyone.

I shift awkwardly again. It’s so messed up that everyone at this school knows my business.

Hailey taps her chin. “Doesn’t Katie Pruett live with only her dad?”

“Yeah, she does,” a curly-haired brunette says as she leans against the door of the fourth stall. “And she’s totally having sex with Colin Trenthorn. They’ve been doing it since she was a soph.”

“Does her dad know?”

“I think he pretends he doesn’t know, but she’s on birth control so he has to have some idea.”

“My mom told my dad that my birth control was for my period,” Hailey says, “so maybe Katie used that excuse, too.”

“I don’t need an excuse to go on birth control,” I tell them. “I’ve been on it since I was fifteen.” Because I actually did have terrible cramps, not just because my mother was worried about the pregnancy thing. “I need an excuse to get out of town overnight.”

“Say you’re staying with a friend.”

“And hide in the car while the game’s going on? That’s not going to work,” Val says impatiently. “Everyone knows the Royals, and someone is bound to mention that they saw Ella at the game.”

A sympathetic murmur spreads through the bathroom.

“Not to mention that Callum will definitely be there and probably rat me out to Steve,” I remind them. I’m not sure why I’m suddenly okay with all of these girls offering me advice, but I am. It feels weirdly welcoming in some way.

Before anyone can come up with a workable solution, the bell rings. Everyone’s heads pop up and there’s a flurry of activity as the girls jostle each other to get their makeup reapplied and their stuff packed away.

“We’ll think of something,” Hailey says on her way out. About six girls stream out after her, all of them waving goodbye to me.

“That was…” I trail off, my confused eyes focusing on Val.

“Fun? Helpful? Entertaining?” She grins. “Not everyone here is awful. Besides, now you know Steve’s behavior is completely normal. You just need to figure out how to work him.”

A little dazed, all I can do is nod. Okay then. I guess he is being normal.

“I tell my parents what they want to hear and then do my own thing,” a familiar voice offers coolly.

I spin around to see Jordan stepping out of a stall.

“Did you crawl out of the sewer or have you been there the whole time?” I accuse.

“Eavesdropping the whole time,” she says blithely. “So you want to have a little sexcation with Reed Royal, hmmm?”

I don’t answer her right away. This girl has disliked me from the moment I stepped foot onto Astor Park’s hallowed prep school grounds. When I was ordered to try out for the dance team, she left me a stripper’s uniform. I’m sure she meant for me to be too embarrassed to come out of the locker room, but I put on the gear, marched into the gym, and punched her in the face.

“Maybe,” I finally say.

“So you need my help.” She nudges Val out of the way and passes her hands under the automatic soap dispenser.

“No. I came to Val for help.”

Jordan scrubs her hands clean, shakes the excess water off, and then grabs a paper towel from the stack in the basket next to the sink.

“And Val’s here and so were six of my teammates, but you haven’t come up with a solution,” she says smugly. “Meanwhile, I have the perfect one.”

I doubt it, but her confident tone keeps my feet glued to the floor.

“Why would you help me?” I watch her with narrowed eyes, but I can’t read anything on her face. Damn, she’d be an impressive poker opponent.

She tosses the towel in the trash. “Because you’d owe me.”

Owe her? That sounds miserable. But…what if she really does have a solution to my problem?

“What would you want in return?” I ask suspiciously.

“A favor to be paid later.” She pulls out a little pot from her purse and dabs her perfect lips with shiny gloss.

I watch her, waiting for the rattler’s tail to sting me. “What favor?”