The last bell on Friday rings. I’m free.
“There’s a party at the Whitworth Mansion tomorrow night,” comes a small voice. “They’ll be distracted.”
I know it’s Lily, but she’s trailing behind me. Her voice is lost amongst the hundreds of others excited about finishing the first week of school.
“And?” I say, staring straight ahead.
I feel like I’m in a movie. Lily shadows me close, but not close enough to be suspicious, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“They’ll be there. We should hang out somewhere else.”
“Ah,” I say.
I still don’t understand Lily. She’s taken a trash-can over the head for talking to me. Yet she still keeps coming back.
My curiosity burns. I want to know more about her.
“Come on,” I say, scanning the hall for The Elites. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
We slip into the nearest bathroom, and Lily takes off her hood. Her mousy brown hair goes to her mid-back, and as she shakes it out I laugh. She then goes to check under the stalls, then marches right back to the door and latches it.
“You had your hood on?” I can’t help but chuckle.
Her eyes narrow at me, daring me to deny the obvious. “Clearly – it’s just easier to keep under their radar.”
I search her face. She’s dead serious. “You’re serious.”
“More serious than a heart attack,” she says, watching the remnants of my smile fade. “You still think this is a joke.” Her voi
ce turns dark, her eyes hard. “The Elites don’t fuck around. They are ruthless and they are cruel, and they will hurt me and you if they see us together again.”
“So why are you still talking to me?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s what we should talk about,” Lily insists, extending her hand. “Give me your phone number and we’ll meet up this weekend, away from all of this.”
She heads to my messages, then pauses. Her eyebrows shoot up. “He got your phone number?”
Emmett had been the last one to text me, aside from Mom and Brendan. I run an anxious hand through my long dark hair, trying to push the note out of my mind. “Yeah.”
Before I can say anything, she clicks on it. “Check your notes, pet,” she repeats, then looks at me, expecting an answer.
“I deleted the note.” Is it warm in here? I feel hot.
“But not his contact information or his text?”
I rub a hand down my face. “What would be the point? I’m sure if I block him he’ll just find another way around it.”
“True.” She nods. “True, yeah.”
She quickly types out a message with her contact info, then sends it. A few moments later, her phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s one of those high-pitched dog sounding buzzes that teachers apparently can’t hear.
“Why?” I ask, nodding pointedly.
Lily’s eyes meet mine. “You’ll soon understand that if The Elites don’t like you, neither do the teachers. And I’ve had enough stupid fucking detentions for texting in class.”
“Ah,” I say.
“Anyway,” she says, adding my contact information. “Do you have a fake?”