I’m still a little wary at first, but the boys don’t immediately revert to their old ways. It’s like they’ve been possessed by decent men; better men who want to protect me, not harm me. If I could, I’d still keep them at arm’s length for a while, but they aren’t having any of it.
Astor’s warning to Chris spreads fast. His influence changes everything for me. Suddenly, my things stop disappearing from my backpack, the water in the showers always stays hot, my laundry shows up folded instead of half missing and the other half bleached, and every Friday morning Thomas is waiting outside my room with a bouquet of roses. The fact that they look just like the ones that got knocked over during the argand lamp incident is not lost on me.
Irony, thy name is teen guilt.
The most marked change, however, might be the fall of Victoria.
There is no forgiveness for her actions, not when Astor holds the iron grip over the school.
One moment she’s the queen bee, the most popular girl on campus—even more than any of the seniors. The next, I only seem to spot her sitting alone beside the trash cans at lunch or squeezed into the very front row of desks during class with her face frozen forward and silent.
She doesn’t look at me, she doesn’t speak to me. There’s no apology, no get-well-soon card … nothing.
Otherwise, I might have tried to help her. After all, she did take me under her wing when I first got here. Sure, nearly every event she invited to ended in my being humiliated in some way. And sure, she lied about what was in the punch … but she didn’t know I had good reason not to drink.
It’s not pretty to watch a star burn out; a glittering diamond one moment, a social pariah the next.
Maybe that’s why it comes as something of a shock when she corners me in the bathroom the morning we’re set to leave for Thanksgiving break. One minute I have my face in the sink, the next I look up and she’s standing over my shoulder looking back at me in the mirror like some demon in a horror flick.
It’s no wonder I shriek.
“My god, Victoria, don’t sneak up on people like that.”
She just stares at me for a moment, waiting for me to turn off the tap and turn around to face her.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” she asks.
It takes me a second to find the words to respond. “Sorry, what?”
She arches an eyebrow at me. I can’t help but notice that something about her even looks different. Dark circles peek out beneath two layers of concealer. Her hair isn’t as shiny as it once was. Unless I’m mistaken, her skirt’s gotten just a little too tight. I guess Queen has learned what it means to eat your feelings.
“I want to know when you’re going to stop acting like the victim here,” she says. “We both know y
ou knew there was alcohol in the punch. No one’s that stupid.”
“Wow.” I ball up the paper towels in my hand and slam them into the trash. “You know Victoria, I actually felt bad for you this whole time. All I wanted was an apology … but this is low, even for you.”
I whirl on my heel, ready to storm out of there, but she catches me by the sleeve. I’m ready to shake her off, but her nails dig into me and keep me here. She holds her other hand out to me and waves a chipped, broken set of acrylic nails in my face.
“Do you see what they’re doing to me?” she says, her voice choking back emotion. “They’re bullying me.”
I shake myself free and turn back to face her. “You mean like they bullied me?”
She purses her lips. “That was different.”
“Was it?”
I’m about to go again, but Victoria lunges forward and grabs my arm again. Her other hand flies up to cover her mouth as she chokes out a sob.
“Wait!” She lets go of me but takes a moment to compose herself. I can see an inner struggle going on. “I’m sorry,” she says, finally. “I can handle being blacklisted. I can handle being ignored. But Please, Sadie, for the love of god … call them off.”
I don’t believe her apology is genuine. I don’t think she really believes she did anything wrong. But I look at her, pitiful, groveling, and I know the pain of being unable to walk from one class to the next without one of Astor’s boys trying to knock the books from your arms or the very wind from your lungs.
She sees me thinking, and she blurts out, “I just thought it might be more fun for you if you … you know … had a little punch. That’s all. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were on drugs. I promise.”
She makes it sound like I was strung out on heroine.
But still …