I’m still stewing over this when I walk into the science wing’s bathroom, later that day. Afton and Elana happen to be at the sink, reapplying makeup. Afton’s eyes catch mine in the mirror reflection. “What’s up with you?”
Even though there’s no one else in the bathroom but the three of us, I’m not really expecting her to speak to me.
“Nothing, just….” I pump soap into my hand. “Well, did you get your envelope?”
Elana says, “Yep,” and Afton nods while coating her lips in a shiny gloss.
“Don’t you think it’s going a little too far?”
Elana shrugs. “I’m putting mine on my hip.” She touches the spot she means.
“I think it’s sexy,” Afton declares, snapping the gloss cap on and dropping it in her purse. She turns and sits on the sink. “Plus, it’ll be nice having a little memento. In ten years, when I’m married to someone disgustingly rich and starting my own designer label, I’ll be able to look at it and remember the glory days. I mean, all of us just broke into rival schools, unnoticed. We’re bad ass, gorg.” She finishes, expression pensive, “Let’s face it, being a Plaything will probably be the most meaningful thing I’ve done at Preston.”
Despite the arrogant elitism of the school, it is involved with some good projects. Habitat, food drives, tutoring in low income communities. The fact a secret society is the most meaningful thing Afton will do here is a little concerning.
“Are you scared?” Elana asks, turning to me. “Of the pain?”
“No,” I reply. “I’ve handled my fair share of needles.”
I expect a reaction, an apology about being insensitive, but Elana just fishes out her mascara wand and says, “It’s not as big a deal as it seems. Look at these things, they’re tiny. You could cover it up with something else, or hell, it’d probably take less than three sessions to have it lasered off. My cousin has three. She says it feels like a low-level burn.” She coats her already inch-long eyelashes in black. “She also says it’s kind of erotic. Like pleasurable pain. That’s why it’s so addictive.”
Obviously, these girls are all in. Emory is all in. I’m the one who’s not because I got into this with ulterior motives. But just talking to the girls makes me reconsider. If I’m doing this, really doing it, I need to be all-in. Getting the tattoo will be proof that I went all the way, that I’m committed. Maybe Elana is right. Maybe I’m making too big a deal of it.
I watch Elana apply her makeup as Afton’s feet swing against the counter, eyes fixed on the screen of her phone, and something occurs to me.
I’m currently in the combined presence of more boy experience than Sydney’s ever had.
My voice still comes out nervous and reluctant. “Can I…ask you two a question?”
Elana’s curious eyes jump to mine through the reflection. “Shoot.”
“I kind of need some advice about…guys.”
Elana takes this in stride, casually listing off, “No matter what they say, boners don’t hurt, pulling out isn’t effective birth control, and it’s never just the tip.”
“Good to know.” I say slowly.
Afton says, “But I’m guessing you had something more specific than that.”
I nod, dropping my bag with theirs, underneath the paper towel dispenser. “So…say there’s this guy.”
In unison, they both slowly turn to me. “Isn’t there always?” Afton replies.
I nod stiffly, suddenly unable to meet their eyes. “Say there’s this guy and you kissed, but then he said it was a mistake.”
They both give twin ‘ughs'.
“Those guys are the worst,” Elana mutters, fluffing her hair.
But Afton tilts her head. “But it was, though. Emory would absolutely crush him.”
Elana grimaces. “Yeah, good point.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” I groan. “How do I tell if he thought it was a mistake because of Em, or if it’s because he’s just not into me like that.”
Afton’s looks at me thoughtfully. “Well, who kissed whom?”
“I kissed him,” I admit, but hastily add, “he seemed really into it, though.”