Gemma
Glancing down to my outfit, I cringed. “I…” My voice was as wobbly as my feet in the heels Sloane had lent me. “I feel weird.”
Sloane popped her head out of the bathroom with one eye full of dark makeup and the other bare. “Don’t! You look fucking hot, Gem.” Gem. A slice of the past rushed toward me. The only person to ever call me Gem was Tobias. Cue the ache in my chest.
“It’s true. You do!” Mercedes was flinging clothes out of Sloane’s dresser. The scattered articles of clothing covered our floor like a new rug.
Looking back into the mirror, I trailed my eyes down to my smooth bare legs and back up to the tight leather skirt that hit my upper thighs. The mesh, black, long-sleeve shirt hugged my body tightly, showing off my slender waist and medium-sized chest. The only compromise that Sloane and I had was letting me wear a long sleeve shirt. She had questioned my request but didn’t push me on the matter, thank God.
“Here.” Mercedes came up from behind me, wearing nothing but her pink bra and matching underwear with a full face of makeup, handing me tall boots. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable, so this will help. It’ll cover up some skin.” She smiled at me through the mirror. “You look killer, though. You have this good-girl vibe to you, but”—her eyes trailed all over my face—“your features are…so striking. Intense. But like, in a good way.”
There was that phrase again: good girl. The small muscles along my belly clenched as I bent down and pulled off the strappy heels, placing them nicely at the bottom of Sloane’s bed. Mercedes threw me a pair of socks, and after sliding the boots on, I did feel a little better.
Turning around and glancing at the knee-high leather boots, I felt less revealed and more myself. I was used to covering up, so showing this much skin was a rarity, except for those dark nights I pushed clear into the back of my head. Nope. Not now. I would not think of those things on the night of my first party with my two new friends.
“Are you going to tell us what Isaiah wanted today? Or are you still going with your story that he wanted to apologize for shoving you into a closet under false pretenses?” Sloane walked out of the bathroom, looking like a totally different person from the girl I’d met a few days ago with the fairy lights hanging around her bed. Red lipstick covered her lips so eloquently that she reminded me of a doll. Her hazel eyes were shadowed with dark-gray, shimmery eye shadow, and for a moment, I wished I was like that. I wished I’d had the opportunity as a young girl to play around with the makeup that lined the shelves I’d seen at the store with Richard’s mother on our monthly outing. She’d scold me each and every time she saw me looking and would tell me that makeup was a sinner’s poison. That if I touched it, I’d turn unworthy and end up like my mother.
The smallest amount of fear had seeped in at the memory, my heart thumping hard. Now that I was older and away from the looming threats and uncertainty that surrounded my mother when she’d disappeared, I knew Auntie’s words were empty at best, but it still sent me into shock.
“Want some?”
Want what? I looked down to the red lipstick Sloane was holding and quickly shook my head. Clothes were still being thrown behind her head as Mercedes huffed and stomped around.
“Not tonight. Maybe next time, though.”
Sloane smiled, the softness of the gesture not matching the intensity of her makeup. She looked dark and mysterious, and I felt a little envious of how confident she was.
I’d watched in silent awe as Sloane went over and grabbed a few pieces of clothing and flung them out to Mercedes. She snatched them quickly and started to shimmy her way into them.
“I love you,” Mercedes sighed, running her hands down the front of her short purple dress. “I wish I was roommates with you two instead of Shayna.” She rolled her eyes. “She kicked me out for four hours today while she messed around with one of the Rebels.”
Sloane laughed as she sat on her bed to put those same strappy heels on her feet that I’d removed from mine. “If I were into the Rebels, I’d probably do the same.”
Mercedes paused, silence encasing us all. Then, she began to giggle. “You’re right. Me too.”
My face was hot as they began talking about some of the other guys they’d like to spend four hours with. As they talked and I listened, my inexperience seemed to drive me away from their conversation, and my mind began drifting to Isaiah and then to the rest of the Rebels. They were the only guys I’d really come into contact with since arriving here on Monday, and I couldn’t deny their popularity with not just the girls, but with everyone. They were just it. Prestigious. Protective. Strong. Superior. Their ability to command a room was irresistible. I’d learned that much just from watching them in the dining hall and earlier, in the lounge, after I’d left Isaiah high and dry in the art room. I didn’t last long when returning to Sloane and Mercedes after our talk, because my mind was reeling, and the nerves never left, especially with what seemed like a million pairs of eyes on me. Everyone was staring at me, wondering what Isaiah wanted to talk about. So, as soon he had walked back in, his intense gaze landing right on me, I excused myself and came back to my room, opened up my brand-new journal from the headmaster, and mindlessly sketched until Sloane got back with Mercedes in tow. That was hours ago, and I was still feeling antsy.
“Seriously,” Sloane chided. “Tell us. There is no way Isaiah called you away from everyone to apologize. That boy doesn’t say sorry.”
A nervous tremor went through my body, zipping and whirling, telling me that Isaiah’s little chat was not far off in my brain, even though I kept pushing it away. I, unfortunately, didn’t have my pencil in hand at the moment, so I couldn’t just...turn off my thoughts.
The thing was, I didn’t not want to tell them about our conversation, but I still needed to process it, and I would be lying if I said I was totally put off by the idea. It wasn’t until he declared, “I’ll give you anything you want,” that made me pause. I’d been secretly weighing my options, and every time I’d tossed up the two choices, my body would fizzle out. Life or death. Servitude or freedom. Stay or flee.
And not only was I conflicted with him asking me for a favor instead of demanding it, but he could actually give me something in return that could propel my plan to get out of the trap that my life was in. So far, I didn’t have this grand plan like I’d hoped to form the second I was away from home, but with Isaiah’s tempting words in the back of my mind, things began to spin. It was a plan that could likely kill me later if I were caught. It was something that could probably kill him too, if it came down to it.
Sweat began to break out along my forehead at the thoughts and my ears began to ring. I was suddenly very angry that I was even put in the position where I had to think of these things in the first place. I was angry at my life, and my uncle, and sometimes—even though it made me feel irrevocably guilty afterward—I was angry at my mother. Angry that she somehow landed in Judge Stallard’s lap and chose to stay even after she could have left. I knew that she wouldn’t have stayed as long as she did if she knew everything that I knew now, but didn’t she sense he wasn’t a good person? Didn’t she feel the same dark and unforgiving feeling in his touch that I felt? I knew Tobias did.
I cleared my throat, springing up suddenly from my bed and walking over to the mirror to glance at the fragile, clear-faced girl in front of me that desperately wanted to be strong and courageous. “I think I do want some makeup, Sloane.” I peered over my shoulder, and I could see the confusion on her face but also the excited sparkle glimmering in her dark-framed eyes.
She bit her lip, her white teeth straining brightly against the red
stain. “What changed your mind?”
I shrugged, running my eyes down my outfit. “Let’s just call it…spite.”
She looked at a Mercedes, and they both got the evilest yet amused smile on their faces. Then, they rushed at me and got to work.
The hallway was eerily quiet as Sloane and Mercedes pulled me along. I was stuck in the middle of them, my hands clasped in each of theirs. Mercedes gave me a tight squeeze, her palm colliding with mine.