Turn the Tables Page 7

  “I’m not interested in skiing right now,” Lucas says to Kiana’s whine. “We just got here. Leave me alone.”

  Mason pushes Vanessa off his lap. “Go do your ski bunny thing elsewhere, Vanessa.”

  Vanessa leans over, pushing her frontal anatomy into Mason’s face. “You’ll regret that, Maverick,” she tries to say in this sexy voice, but even I cringe at her tone. She snaps her fingers. Just like that, Ben Summers and Scott Bass materialize to adore her.

  I suppress a shudder when Ben passes by me, and Lucas notices, his mouth tightening. The flames reflect in his eyes as he stares at me intently.

  Without warning, Lucas crosses over and stands in front of me. “You shouldn’t let him get to you,” he states, voice hard for a sixteen-year-old.

  I barely avoid rolling my eyes. Across the fire, Mason and Brock shift their glances from me to Lucas and back again. I lower my eyes, reminiscing that odd period around Thanksgiving. Lucas was – approachable. Then there’s Brock, singing a song to me and flirting with me intermittently since Halloween. But I won’t lie – I wake up sometimes sweating, recalling the smoke and stinging heat. I sometimes tremble thinking about the party and my spiked water. I don’t want to be entangled with these people.

  “Why does Mason keep staring?” I ask Lucas sourly. I don’t mean to sound sour, but it’s been a rough period.

  I keep my gaze fixed on the flames, but Lucas’s displeasure is obvious. “Because he can’t take a fucking hint,” Lucas sneers, and I frown. He sure swears a lot. Actually, a lot of the students do when the staff isn’t listening.

  Remember, Elena, if you can’t use decent language to say something, then don’t say it at all. That was the one advice my mom gave me before she stopped communicating. My heart swells remembering her precious words to me during Thanksgiving weekend. She sounded lucid even if she took a long time to respond. She was aware.

  Charles peers at me from behind Lucas, clearly irritated. “I know the girls think you have a nice ass, Rhodes, but I’d rather not be staring at your butt when I talk to Elena,” he tells Lucas.

  If looks could kill… Lucas’s eyes narrow while he stares at me. “I wasn’t aware you had a claim to her conversations, Charles,” he says. Lucas could write a book about being disdainful.

  Charles flushes and I think he’ll back down as most people do. But he doesn’t. He stands up so that Lucas is forced to recognize him. “I’ve seen what you Elites did to her. I’m trying to protect a friend before you hurt her again.”

  Mason drawls, “You think you can? Protect her, I mean?” He chuckles. “We’re the only ones that can protect her.”

  This makes Katrina gasp – you know, Charles confronting an Elite – but then she gets mad. “You’re doing an amazing job of it,” Katrina spits out, shouldering her way to stand by Charles. Bruce joins her, backing his twin up. “That fire was messed up, Mason. I don’t see anyone taking care of Vanessa. The staff didn’t even ask Elena what really happened.”

  In the scope of Highbury Academy, this confrontation is epic. Elites on one side, non-Elites on the other, and me with my mouth open. But in my world, it’s irrelevant. Mom is getter better. One year of torture and I’ll have fulfilled my obligation to Edgar Maverick.

  “We’re handling it,” Lucas retorts, brushing off imaginary lint from his arms. Even at a ski lodge, his idea of casual is not casual: button-down silk shirt, jacket, slacks. “The girls won’t bother you again.”

  “Don’t make mountains out of molehills, Katrina,” Brock adds, joining the conversation. “Oliver’s secured the hot tub.”

  Apparently, “secured” means that no one except who the Elites invite can use it for an hour. It’s such a pretentious act that my lips curl thinking about it. “Come on, Kat. Bring Elena,” Mason says like I’m going to be a willing participant. It’s exclusionary.

  Katrina hesitates, trying to be considerate of feelings all-around. How in the world did Mason get a sister like her? I get that they’re not genetically related, but honestly, she may be rich and spoiled, but there’s a sweet loyalty about her.

  Bruce gives Katrina a lopsided grin. I’m certain he likes her, but he hasn’t quite made the move. She’s still Inner Circle and there are rules. “It’s okay, we can grab dinner or something later together.”

  This whole privilege concept rankles me. Bruce and Charles come from a wealthy, solid family. The boys share an Audi, for God’s sake. Yet, they’re not welcome because of privilege based on money and social status. Back in ninth grade, the hierarchy was similar. The haves versus the have-nots. But there were other social cues like sports, looks, the size of your frontal anatomy.

  “I don’t fit into your idea of exclusion,” I decide quietly. “I’m fine right here.” I cross my arms.

  “You’re invited, sweetheart,” Brock says in surprise. To him, it’s a no-brainer and that’s what annoys me.

  Mason and Lucas exchange a look. “They’re invited, too,” Lucas announces, gesturing to the twins.

  Katrina gives a little squeal, hugging her brother. Mason fondly pats her head, ignoring her attempts to swat him away.

  Charles extends his hand to me, but Lucas steps in between us. “Shall we?” he says to me, slate eyes intent on my response.

  I stand on my own. I’ll be damned if I need his help. “Fine.”

  Katrina brought two robes with her. They’re silk with Asian-inspired patterns. She hands me a red one and wears a blue one herself. “You packed for two of us, didn’t you?” I guess, looking at all her bags.

  She shrugs, pinning her hair up. “You can’t just wander down the hall in a swimsuit,” she says. I turned down her bikini offer, sticking with my affordable one-piece. It’s not like a swimsuit from the twenties or anything that modest. It has a sweetheart neckline with razorback straps. I just don’t understand how Katrina thinks it’s okay to spend five hundred dollars on scraps of material smaller than a purse. Then again, she could be on the cover of a magazine with her looks and maybe that makes it okay.

  When we arrive at the hot tub, there’s a note taped to the door with ‘KEEP OUT by order of Brock’. You can’t make this stuff up.

  Charles and Bruce are already inside – Mason is talking to them, which is mind-boggling. The rest of the Elite boys stand around in swim trunks, which is a relief because I’m just not a Speedos person.

  Katrina slips her robe off first. I smother a laugh watching Bruce sneak a peek. If I were into girls, Katrina would be on my list. She dangles her legs into the water until Bruce sits next to her and their low voices make me back off to give them privacy.

  I stand like an idiot because the Elite boys and Charles are staring at me. I’ve never understood how models can walk down a runway wearing negligées without feeling self-conscious. I clench my jaws in frustration and wait. I’m certainly not going to take my robe off if they’re going to gawk.

  “Guys, what the hell!” Katrina snaps. “Just get in the hot tub already. Stop staring at my BFF!”

  Oliver moves first and Charles is too polite to gawk openly. I give myself a mental shrug and slip the robe off, sliding into the tub while keeping my eyes averted. I don’t think I’m a prude, but I’m not accustomed to so many male chests in a condensed bit of space. Charles is appealing in a lanky, boy-band sort of way, but Mason’s swimmer’s physique makes him seem older than sixteen. Brock, on the other hand, is leaner, but there’s a vibrant energy to his toned body. And if Katrina could be a swimsuit model, Lucas could be a male model. The boyish chin is still there, but the planes of his body are appealing and less boyish. They make the football team at my old school seem soft and formless by comparison. Seriously, Elena, they take their shirt off and you resort to this drivel?

  “Freeloader, I think you’re the first girl who’s worn a one-piece to the hot tub with us,” Oliver says with this lazy grin, and I remember his annoying comment about my previous one-piece swimsuit. “It’s—fascinating.”

  Katrina grabs
her slipper and flings it at Oliver’s head. “Shut up, asshole!” She doesn’t even bother to check if her slipper connects with his head.

  Mason settles next to me and asks me a question, but I shut down after Oliver’s words. When he taps my shoulder, I give a start. “Earth to Elena,” he teases, his eyes dark. “Ignore Ollie. He doesn’t know what to do around beautiful girls.”

  I’ve been called many things in my life and the only person who’s ever said I was beautiful is John. Even Mom never said I was pretty. To be honest, as a little girl, I was quite plain. But what makes a person beautiful anyway? Analyzing my options, I assume he’s just saying it without meaning.

  “What are you doing for Christmas, Elena?” Charles asks, and by anyone’s standards, it’s an innocent question.

  But the answer is complicated for me. Be with Pops and visit Mom at a mental institution! Post music I’ve written online under BSGirl. “Just the usual,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

  A lock of my hair has escaped my messy bun and Mason twirls it around a finger. “Come to our party on Christmas Eve,” he suggests.

  Katrina claps in excitement. “Oh, yes! Mom would love to have you, you know that, right? She asks how you’re doing all the time!”

  Do you tell her my nickname here? Do you tell her about the hot tea and the fire? I don’t say any of this, but Brock walks over in the tub to lift my chin. Lucas’s eyes narrow from where he watches. “We’ll be there. All the Elites. And I’ll sing you a song,” he says, trying to entice me.

  “All the Elites? Wow, now I want to go,” I remark drily, and Lucas chuckles a bit.

  “Oh, please come. You’re practically my bestie now,” Katrina pouts. “Don’t leave me alone with these jerks.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Charles shoots me a sympathetic look, but Brock leans back in the tub with a half-smile. “Just remember to save one dance for me,” Brock says, “or two. If you dance with these other losers, you won’t want to dance with them again.”

  “We can have a slumber party if you stay overnight!” Katrina continues, ignoring my horrified expression. I can’t imagine anything worse than waking up Christmas morning to the excesses of wealth.

  At this point, the others start talking about Christmas plans, and I take that moment to retreat, head back and eyes closed. I could never be part of their world. I don’t want any part of it.

  I don’t fall asleep, but I lose track of time until I feel a finger along my jaw. There’s a strange expression in Lucas’s eyes when I frown at him. “Time to go,” he whispers.

  I avoid Katrina’s curious eyes as I throw on the robe and flee to our room.

  CHAPTER 9

  When I return home for Christmas, I take the time to upload my latest video. It’s an original song called “What Makes You Beautiful.” I think about learning to play the flute, which I think would sound better than the piano. My view numbers are way up, which surprises me. I am not on social media a lot, but a search online shows that some of my posts have gone viral. I’m stumped.

  On Christmas Eve, John surprises me when he says, “A car is coming for you in thirty minutes.”

  I’m eating Pop-Tarts and I pause halfway through a bite. “What?”

  John explains that Elizabeth Maverick called him to invite me to a party because “a lot of my friends” will be there. And he said yes.

  “But Mom, we’re going to see Mom tomorrow!”

  “We still will. Their driver will bring you back tonight after the party. She promised you’d be back by midnight.

  “I don’t want—” I break off when I see John’s face. He’s happy.

  “Elena, your mom and I, we didn’t make life easy for you. You should have been with friends, not taking care of your mother. That’s on me,” he says. “I know kids didn’t make it easier on you. You’re smart, wonderful. I think people see it now at Highbury Academy.”

  My chest is too tight. He thinks I’m happy. He thinks the students have accepted me and embraced me. I look at this man – more of a father than that sperm donor – who has loved Mom through thick and thin. I can’t tell him the truth.

  “When Elizabeth told me how close you and Katrina have become, she was very happy,” John continues in wonder. “Katrina struggled to make friends at times, too. And I hear her brother talks about you a lot.” John winks at me. “I hope I don’t have to talk to you about—”

  “Oh, God, no!” I shriek, putting my head down, my toaster pastry now forgotten in my hand. “Yeah, it would be great to see my friends.” I don’t know how I choke the words out, but I do. When I smile at him, it’s the worst feeling in the world.

  I can’t believe my eyes when Katrina comes with the limo to pick me up. She squeals and hugs me while my stepfather watches benevolently. I smile, wave, and pretend to be giddy. We get into the limo and she won’t stop talking about the party and the food.

  In her fancy limo with leather seats, I sit in my faded jeans that I got from Goodwill and a soft sweater John bought me as an early Christmas present. After talking nonstop for five minutes, Katrina suddenly stops. “Elena,” she says hesitantly, “are you okay?”

  I don’t know why, but I crumble. I’m a liar. A fraud. I lay my head in her lap and start sobbing. She lets me cry, holding me quietly. During the two-hour drive to her home, she lets me lie quietly, her eyes warm and comforting.

  Feigning a headache, I ask to take a brief rest as soon as I get to the Maverick household. I’m glad I don’t see Mason or even their parents. Katrina brings me to her room and offers me her bed. I don’t think I doze long, but I become fully alert when I hear whispers.

  “She cried in the limo. I’m worried.” Katrina.

  “What was she crying about?” Mason.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I think she needed to let it out. You know, she never cried after the fire or anything. She just compartmentalizes.” Katrina’s voice dips lower in disgust. “I find your Elite girlfriends monstrous. I can’t believe you let any of them touch you. I’m just—I’m disappointed in you this year, Mason. I haven’t told Mom any of it. You’re my brother and I love you, but I feel like I don’t know you that well anymore.”

  Mason sighs in frustration. “A lot is going on, Kat. It’s just been a hell of a year.”

  “What’s going on now, though? Brock wrote her a song. Lucas’s been – I don’t know – different. And you look at her all the time. Is this a game?”

  “It’s fucked up, Kat. And I wish it weren’t.”

  “Well, stop fucking it up or you might end up losing something that you’ll regret for the rest of your life. Now go away. I’m going to see how she’s doing.”

  I head into the bathroom before Katrina enters, splashing my heated face with cold water. I see a plastic-wrapped toothbrush by the sink and presume it’s for me. I brush my teeth, glad that I recognize the toothpaste and it isn’t a brand with crushed diamonds or anything. When I leave the bathroom, I feel mostly human again.

  Katrina’s on the bed, smiling hopefully. “Feeling better, hon?”

  “Yeah, sorry about earlier. Just—I’m a mess,” I mumble, a bit embarrassed.

  Katrina stands, hands on her hips. “Girl, you’ve been pushed, harassed, and set on fire. You’ve been scary stoic. Sometimes I think you disappear when it happens. Vanessa, Kiana, Ashley, and Astrid think you’re weak because you don’t seem to fight back, but I think you’re strong. Ridiculously strong. Most people would’ve lashed out. But you don’t break. You don’t let it get to you.”

  I huff derisively. “If only that were true. I’m just trying to get through the year, you know.”

  “It’ll be better next year. You won’t come in as the new girl, and I think we’re creating our group with you, me, Bruce, and Charles.”

  My gaze slides away.

  “You are coming back next year, right? I mean, you’re doing well academically, right? I hear you play the piano like a goddess.” Katrina’s warm skin
pales as she gets nervous from my silence.

  “I don’t know. I’m taking it one day at a time,” I finally say.

  Katrina sighs in relief. “Well, just talk to me before you decide, okay? I mean, it’s been a while that I’ve met someone so real.” Katrina’s brown eyes grow distant for a moment. “You’ve probably noticed that there aren’t a lot of black kids at the school. Before Mason became an Elite, in the lower grades, the kids sometimes bullied him because of me. Sometimes they’d tell him that he should tap that ‘hot sister of his’ or they’d ask if Mom slept with a security guard and had me by accident. He got into a lot of fights trying to protect me. Then Mom’s business took off and became the new thing everyone had to have. Suddenly, as a first-year student, everyone pandered to him. But I’ve never forgotten. And I know those Elite girls are just pretending they don’t see the color of my skin.”

  “I’m half-Asian. Kiana’s full-blown Japanese. What does it matter?”

  “The rich are still predominantly white. Movie stars are predominantly white,” Katrina points out. “I’m just saying that I know you feel alone, but you’re not. I’m going to support you no matter what happens because I think you’d do the same for me.”

  “I’ve never really had a lot of friends before, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done from Day 1,” I say, and we hug. It feels good.

  “Well, we have an hour to get ready before the first wave comes.” Katrina laughs.

  “First wave?”

  “Yes, the Elite boys always come early to this because they can. Their parents are bona fide assholes, so they never come with their parents.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Now, don’t yell at me. Indulge a friend. But… I got a dress for you. It’s your Christmas present.”

  I don’t have time to protest before she drags me to her closet.

  I accept the dress because Katrina refuses to accept her gift from me if I don’t accept the dress. Using the exquisite piano at the school, I recorded several pieces of music on the piano and gave her a personal copy of her favorite music done to piano. “This is something no one else will ever have,” she tells me with a sentimental smile. “Thank you. I love it.”