He fidgeted while he waited, listening to the movement inside the house. This was exactly the kind of house his father scoffed at—it wasn’t that it was low income or anything, but there was a sign next to the door that said BLESS OUR LOVELY HOME, and an odd, slouched scarecrow was packed into a mini rocking chair. The whole place was a well-off woman’s tribute to a Norman Rockwell painting.
The door opened slowly, and Mrs. McWhellen walked out onto the porch, her red-brown hair pulled back and a touch of flour on the bridge of her nose. When she saw Cade standing there, she gave him a big hug, like she was thrilled to see him.
“Cade! Sweetie! How’s your father?” Mrs. McWhellen put her hands on her hips and grinned at him. “I haven’t seen him since he got back from India.”
“Great,” Cade said, returning her hug and breathing deeply. Mrs. McWhellen smelled like cinnamon and apples.
“What can I do for you, Cade? I’m sure you didn’t come by to see Ivy’s old mom.”
Cade chuckled. “Actually, is Ivy home? I wanted to talk to her about our psych course.”
Ivy’s mom half smiled. “She sure is. She’s been having a hard time, Cade. I bet you know that.” She reached out and patted his arm.
Cade knew. Just about everyone knew about Ivy’s fall from royalty. It was the most vicious mutiny he’d ever seen. There was something sort of beautiful about it, actually—some strange, poetic justice. Ivy had taken down countless girls in her time, and when she finally showed that she had some sort of actual feeling, everyone turned on her. “Nah,” he said. “Everyone still loves Ivy.”
Mrs. McWhellen glowed. Cade always knew just what to say, especially when it wasn’t exactly true. “Well, come on in. She’s upstairs. You can go knock on her door if you want.”
Cade thanked Mrs. McWhellen and headed up the curving stairs. He knew where Ivy’s room was from a giant party she’d thrown last year when her parents were out of town. He’d actually tried to hook up with Mal Owens in Ivy’s bedroom, and Ivy had been pretty cool about it—she’d just directed him to a guest room.
He knocked on her bedroom door, and it swung open to reveal Home Ivy, in yoga pants (tight) and a T-shirt (loose). Her dark hair was pushed back into a careless, messy bun, and her face was clean of makeup. She was far from the evil tyrant queen who ruled the halls of the school, but she was still really beautiful.
Not good enough to date, though. Not in her current state. It didn’t matter how hot she was. He thought of introducing Ivy to his father and repressed a shudder that started at the small of his back.
Of course, he had another plan. One that involved making his now-ex second-guess her decision.
“Cade!” she said, frowning a little. “What are you doing here? She swung her door open a little farther, revealing the expanse of her bedroom, and he walked in, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“We haven’t talked in a while,” he said. “I thought I’d just stop by.” He smiled and grabbed a picture she had tucked in the corner of her mirror—Ivy and that weird kid, Garrett. His arms were slung around her, and Ivy’s face was relaxed. Happy.
She hadn’t taken the picture down. That said something.
Without as much as a flush, Ivy snatched the picture out of his hands. “I forgot this was up,” she said. And then she ripped the picture in two and tossed it in her small silver wastepaper basket. “Funny how your room just sort of fades into the same old environment, right? It’s like you don’t notice anything about it until someone else points it out for you.”
Cade stared at the pieces of the photo. Ivy McWhellen did not mess around.
But neither did he. “How are you doing, Ivy?” He sat down on her bed, knowing it would make her uncomfortable. It didn’t matter who she was—all girls got a little weird with such an intimate gesture.
Ivy, though, sat down at her desk and pulled up Facebook on her laptop. “Fine. Listen, what are you even doing here? Can I help you with something? I really don’t have a lot of time.”
This was the new Ivy, then. She’d dispensed with her old games. She was smart enough to see there was no point.
“I thought you could use a friend.”
She spun around in her chair and glared. The same glare that had cut so many of her peers to ribbons. “Really?”
Cade respected that. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get far with his revenge-on-Bekah plan. And clearly, Ivy McWhellen did not care what his father could do to her. She was already destroyed.
There was actually a certain freedom in total destruction, and for a moment, Cade envied her. She was freer than he’d ever be. Freer than his father. His mother. His sister.
Of course, everyone was freer than his sister.
“Psychology class,” he amended. He didn’t move from her bed.
She didn’t stop glaring.
“What about psychology class?” she asked.
“I missed a few classes. And we have a test coming up, right?”
“Yes,” Ivy said slowly. She folded her hands and rested them on a crossed leg. “What about it?”
“I thought maybe you could help me?” Cade asked. “I feel like I missed a ton.”