Intrigued, I decide to sit back down. Ashton squeals when she pulls up site after site of ideas that cost more than my entire wardrobe.
“I love that you have internet privileges!” Then she notices my ashen face. “Don’t even worry about the cost. My parents have got you covered. Girl, we’re going to make you look fierce!”
Two hours later, they are so very proud of themselves. And for the first time, I may possibly be looking forward to this stupid dance. Except now I need to figure out how to ask Grant to go with me in a non-public way.
Where’s your phone?” Brendan asks, sitting next to me in the dining hall before anyone else arrives.
“Why? Were you not able to find me on your stalker map?” I ask with a smug grin, proud of myself for stumping Brendan with my tinfoil Faraday cage.
He rolls his eyes. “What did you do to the phone, Lana?”
“Hid it from you. Sorry if you don’t know my every move. We may have called a kind of truce, but it doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“You can’t hide from me,” he says, leaning in so we’re eye-level. “I know where you live.” He stares at me with an arrogant smirk, and his eyes glint with mirth.
I shove him just as he bursts out laughing.
“Seriously, Princess. You need to stop being so paranoid.”
“Please don’t make her hate you more than she already does,” Ashton pleads, taking a seat across from us. “She’s my best friend. And you’re my … anyway, it would make me sad if you two killed each other.”
Arden sits next to her. “Who hates who?” Then she takes in my simmering expression and Brendan’s gloating face. “Oh, I get it. Sibling rivalry.”
Ashton laughs so hard, she snorts. “They’re … not …” She can’t finish as she bends over, holding her stomach.
Brendan raises his brows, impressed. I gape like a fish.
Arden leans over while Ashton’s still preoccupied, trying not to fall off her chair. She whispers, “Sorry. Didn’t realize it was a secret.” Then she leans back and pats Ashton on the back. “Relax, honey. You’ll pee yourself, laughing like that.”
“Brendan, do you know Arden?” I inquire as my way of an introduction.
“I’ve seen you around,” Brendan replies.
She is kind of hard to miss.
“Likewise,” Arden says, inspecting him openly. “You’re Ashton’s, right?”
Ashton gleams. “He is. And I don’t share. Not anymore.”
“Excellent,” Arden remarks like this is something to be celebrated. “It’s important to know who belongs beside you.”
Sophia slips into her chair wordlessly, appearing extremely bashful.
“Why are you acting all … you?” Ashton questions, waving her hand in the air surrounding Sophia. “Did something happen?”
Sophia lifts her lashes to take in Arden. “Hi, Arden.”
“Sophia,” Arden greets her coolly. “If you’ll excuse me.” Arden scoots her chair back and walks away with her tray of food.
“What was that all about?” Brendan asks as we all follow Arden’s departure until she’s outside.
Sophia replies softly, “I may have reported her last term, and she was stripped of head chair of the social committee because of it.”
“For what?” Ashton inquires, seemingly baffled. “Arden is amazing.”
“Partying in her room.”
“But partying is what the social committee does,” Ashton states, like Sophia’s beyond insane.
“I was only doing what I’ve been asked to do,” she answers meekly.
I narrow my eyes. Something’s off. “Should I be worried?” I ask her, ignoring Ashton’s dumbfounded reaction.
“You’ll be fine,” Sophia replies softly. “People like you.”
Brendan begins to laugh. I jab him in the ribs with my elbow before he can get carried away.
“Yes, you’re so charming,” he coughs.
As I’m hanging up with Grant, I hear a knock on my door. I open it, but no one’s there. There’s another knock, and I realize it’s coming from the bathroom.
“Come in,” I call to her, shutting the door to the hall.
Arden glides in, a smile on her face, holding two martini glasses. “Please tell me you drink.”
“Not as much lately, but yes.” I accept a glass. “What is this?” The liquid is purply-pink and garnished with blueberries and raspberries.
“If it tastes good, do you really care?” she asks, holding up her glass to toast.
I raise a brow in challenge.
“It’s acai-blueberry vodka, cranberry juice and honey,” she announces, unaffected. “Toast?”
I raise my glass.
“To an adventurous school year,” she declares, tapping my glass with a distinct ting.
I almost don’t take a sip, not wanting to commit to any more adventures. But I figure it’s pretty unavoidable, considering my innate chaos. “This is pretty fantastic.”
“I know,” she says, striding around my room like it’s a museum and she’s deciding which art installations speak to her. “Serge decorated your room, didn’t he?”
“How did you know?” I ask, completely puzzled by this girl.
She has an instinct that’s undeniable. I’m still deciding if she’s trustworthy.
“He has a fascination with lighting,” she notes, examining the fireflies dancing across the wall. “He’s very good.” She nods toward the bathroom. “Come. I want to show you something.”
We cross over into her room. She tips back her martini glass for a generous sip before setting it down on the table.
“I know this room looks very plain,” she says, “but it has secrets.”
She presses down on a section at the far end of the console over the sink, and a panel slides back to allow a laptop to rise from within. A pair of headphones are set on top. She places the headphones around her neck and boots up the laptop. Within a few keystrokes, the chandelier dims, and the tiles beneath my feet illuminate. I spin around in astonishment.
Music seeps through speakers I overlooked earlier, suspended in the corners. The chandelier pulses in time with the sultry electronic beats. And the tiles of the floor slowly transition from one color to the next in a muted glow.
“Holy shit,” I utter in awe, stepping across it, leaving a trail of optical footprints with each step.
“Antonio also adores lighting,” Arden says, her mouth pressed into a crooked smile as she sways to the music, waving her arms with the fluidity of a stream. “We’re going to have so much fun, Lana. I promise.”
Or get kicked out, I think to myself.
I stay with her for the one drink, then leave her to sleep off her jet lag.
Sleep finds me easily. Probably helped that I expended my pent-up energy, punching and screaming earlier in the day. And the martini probably helped too. I drift off, wondering how my mom’s processing everything that’s happened. If my words hurt her or set her free. But then I dismiss it. She has Olivia now. Not my concern.
I shoot up in bed at the pounding on my door, my heart thundering.