I will not cry.
The laughter doesn’t die down. I ignore it. I just scoop up the World History textbook from the bottom shelf of my luxury-sized locker. Then I flick away the wad of crumbled newspapers that’s sticking to the latch and slam the door shut.
When I turn around, all eyes are on me. I only seek out one pair—Jordan’s, almond-brown and gleaming evilly. She gives me a regal little wave.
I square my shoulders and tuck my book under my arm. A tall guy with brown curls snickers as I start to walk. Oh my God. There’s a sanitary pad stuck to my shoe. I swallow my embarrassment, kick the pad away, and keep walking.
Easton wears a bored expression as I approach.
I pause in front of Jordan, one eyebrow arched, my own smirk forming on my lips. “Is that all you’ve got, Carrington? I’m trash? Tsk-tsk. I’m disappointed in your lack of creativity.”
Her eyes flash, but I’m already sauntering past her like I have no care in the world.
Another score for the away team. Kind of. Because I’m the only one who knows just how close I am to bursting into tears.
12
I make it through the rest of the day without crying, but part of me wants to go all Carrie on these kids until they look back at trash in the locker as the easiest day of their lives.
Valerie texts me during class. Are U OK? Heard abt locker. Jordan is an ass.
I’m fine, I respond. It was stupid and like u said. No creativity. Trash? Did she steal that from a Disney show?
Ha! Don’t say that tho. She’ll B forced 2 think of something worse
2 late.
I’ll throw flowers on ur grave!
Gee thanks. I tuck the phone away when the teacher glances in my direction. Once the fancy chimes ring to let us know class is over, I shove everything into my pack and hoof it outside, hoping that Durand is waiting and I can escape to the princess bedroom. The pink and white is growing on me.
The parking lot is filled with noise, people, and expensive cars, but no Durand.
“Harper.” Valerie appears over my right shoulder. “Your ride isn’t here?”
“No, I don’t see him.”
She clicks her tongue sympathetically. “I’d offer you a ride but I don’t think you want to get in the same car as Jordan.”
“You’d be right about that.”
“You should go, though. Once school is out, it can get rough.”
“Out here in broad daylight?” That’s alarming.
Valerie’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “Jordan has moments of cunning. Don’t underestimate her.”
I tighten my grip on the backpack and give myself an internal slap for carrying around so much cash. There has to be a place in the Royal pile of bricks where I can hide this.
“Why does she get away with it? Savannah Montgomery told me that everyone here is special. So why is Jordan the leader if everyone has something unique to offer?”
“Connections,” Valerie replies bluntly. “The Carringtons aren’t part of the ten-figure club like the Royals, but they know everyone. They’ve done business with celebs, royalty. Jordan’s aunt on her dad’s side is married to some Italian count. We actually have to refer to her as Lady Perino if she shows up for Christmas.”
“That’s unreal.”
“So Jordan is, by extension—” She breaks off. “Hold on. Here she comes.”
I brace myself as Jordan strolls toward us. Like all alphas, she has a pack trailing behind her. They look like a toothpaste commercial—acres of white shining teeth and long straight hair swishing behind them.
“If it makes you feel any better, Jordan’s hair has a lot of wave to it and she has to spend an hour flat-ironing it every morning,” Valerie mutters under her breath.
Doesn’t Valerie have any decent shit on Jordan? Because she spends too much time on her hair really isn’t a great putdown.
“I’m feeling really superior now,” I say dryly.
Valerie gives me a quirky smile and slides her hand around my arm in moral support.
Jordan halts about two feet from me and makes a couple of obvious sniffs with her nose. “You smell,” she informs me. “And it’s not from the trash in your locker. It’s just you.”
“Thanks for the heads up. I guess I’ll start showering twice a day instead of just once,” I say sweetly, but inside I’m worried, because what if I really do smell? That would be about just as bad as toting around a used maxi pad on my shoe.
She sighs and flips her hair over one shoulder. “It’s the type of smell no amount of showering will ever wash away. You see, you’re a casual.”
I look at Valerie with a question. She rolls her eyes in response.
“Okay then,” I reply cheerfully. “Good to know.” Jordan wants me to look stupid, so the best I can do is not get drawn into her game. But my non-reaction doesn’t turn her away. She just keeps shooting her mouth, probably because she likes hearing herself talk.
“Casuals will always reek of desperation.”