She gazes down at her knees, cringing at my list of accusations and flushing under my scrutiny, though wisely choosing not to speak. I’m far from through with her yet, and there’s plenty more where that came from.
“Not to mention how you tried to steal my boyfriend right out from under me—on more than one occasion.” My eyes narrow on her, devoid of all mercy. “But let’s not pretend I was the only one you tortured, because I think we both know that’s hardly the case. Pretty much anyone you perceived as either weaker than you or somehow beneath you or, heck, even some kind of threat to you, was a target as far as you were concerned. You even went after your supposed best friend.” She looks at me, nose scrunched, eyes squinty, prompting me to say, “Um, hel-lo, Honor?” I shake my head, wondering if I’m not just wasting my time, if it’s actually possible to get through to someone as vain and selfish and emotionally clueless as her. “Why do you think she turned against you? You think it’s all Haven’s fault? Think again. She’s been planning this for some time now, mostly because you treated her like crap—the same way you treat everyone. But also because you even tried to steal her boyfriend, and from what I heard, that was the last and final straw.”
She swallows hard, combing her fingers through her hair, rearranging it in a way that partially covers her face. Completely unwilling to look at me and reluctant for me to see her, but at least she’s not trying to deny what we both know is true.
“But I also hear you were as successful with that as you were when you tried to steal Damen.” I narrow my gaze and shake my head, though I leave it at that, figuring I’ve gloated enough as it is.
“And despite the fact that your behavior is so completely cruel and calculating and totally uncalled for, I’m still gonna help you get your old position back.”
She searches my face, trying to determine if it really is true, then quickly returning to the intense study of her spray-tanned knees as soon as I confirm it.
“And it’s not because I like you—because I really, truly don’t—and it’s not because I think you deserve it—because I definitely know you don’t—it’s because what Haven is doing, believe it or not, is even worse than what you used to do. And since I have no interest in being the queen bee of the school, I’ve decided t
o return the position to you. But, like I said, it comes with conditions. The main one being that starting right now, from this moment on, you’re gonna have to find another way to build yourself up. You’re gonna have to stop tearing everyone down in order to make yourself feel bigger and better because that’s pretty much the lowest, cheapest thing a person can ever do. And if this experience of yours, this reversal of your social fortune, hasn’t taught you that, then I don’t know what will. I mean, now that you’ve experienced what it’s like to be on the other side, now that you know firsthand how it feels to be ostracized and treated as badly as you used to treat everyone else, I can’t imagine you’d really want to make anyone go through that again. But then, maybe you do. There’s really no saying with you.”
She continues to sit there, shoulders hunched, hair hanging in a curtain between us. Her head bobbing as she taps the toes of her expensive designer sandals together, the only clue that she’s listening, taking me seriously, and that’s all I need to continue.
“Because the thing is, you’re smart and pretty, and you have all the advantages anyone could ever want in this world, and honestly, that alone should be enough to empower you. So maybe, just maybe, instead of acting like such a greedy little brat and trying to steal everything you know you can’t have, you can concentrate on finding a way to use your gifts to be a good influence on others. You may think it’s corny, you may think I’m ridiculous, but I’m totally serious. If you want to go back to being the rock star of this school, then that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Otherwise, I have no interest in helping you. For all I care, you can spend the rest of the year like this, and neither Damen nor I will lift a finger to help you.”
She takes a deep breath, then glances between us, sighing and shaking her head, directing her words mostly at Damen when she says, “Is she serious? Is this for real?”
But Damen just nods, slides his arm around me, and pulls me even closer. “It is. So you should probably listen to her and take notes if you need to.”
She sighs, taking a moment to gaze around a school she used to rule and now fears. And even though it’s clear she’s far from converted, that she’s only gone along this far because she’s hit rock bottom and has nothing left to lose, nowhere else to go but down even further, it’s still a start.
Still good enough for me.
So I give her another moment to let it really sink in, waiting for her to turn to me and nod her agreement, when I say, “Okay, so here’s where you start…”
If I’d had my way, she would’ve started right then and there. And Damen and I would’ve watched as she walked right up to Honor and put the plan in motion.
But Stacia needed more time.
Time to think it over, time to get used to the idea. Even though she clearly wanted to be on top again, she was so unused to the concept of apologizing, she ended up requiring not only a good deal of convincing but also quite a bit of coaching to find the right words.
Still, as much as I pushed her, as much as I tried to convince her it was the right thing to do, deep down inside, I really didn’t expect it to work—or at least not right away. I was more interested in getting her used to the idea of being a better person, and if I’m going to be perfectly honest, then I also have to say that I wanted her to have no doubt in her mind that I meant what I said.
My help came with conditions. And if she wanted it, well, she’d have to earn it.
I wasn’t to be messed with again.
So by lunch, when Haven and her minions stroll out of class only to find their table occupied by me, Damen, Miles, and Stacia—well, they’re not quite sure what to make of it.
And it’s pretty clear that Haven’s not quite sure what to make of me.
But then, neither is Honor, for that matter.
They just sort of stand there, loitering awkwardly, gawking in disbelief as Craig and his friends slowly move toward us, gratefully taking the seat Damen just offered. Acknowledging the gesture with a “Hey” and a nod, which may seem simple on the surface but is definitely something they never would’ve bothered with before.
And while Haven continues to stand there, hands shaking in fury, eyes narrowed and red, I pretend not to notice. Looking right past the storm cloud of hate that emanates from her when I say, “You’re welcome to join us if you want, as long as you behave yourself, that is.”
She rolls her eyes, mumbles a slew of obscenities under her breath, and starts to turn away. Fully expecting her flock of minions to follow, but her power over them is no longer what it once was. It’s waning. And to be honest, it’s pretty clear that they’re all getting a little sick of her. So when they accept Damen’s offer to join us instead, she turns to Honor, eyes blazing, virtually daring her to choose.
And just when Honor starts to turn away from us and move toward Haven, Stacia jumps up from her seat and says, “Honor, wait—I’m—I’m really sorry!”
The words sounding so shrill, so uncomfortable, so foreign coming from her that Miles instantly bursts out laughing, and I have to squeeze his knee—hard—to get him to stop.
Stacia looks at me, eyes narrowed, brows merged, as if to say: See, I tried, but it doesn’t work!