At lunch, I hurry across the open space of the commons, scanning for my brothers. But I see only strangers throwing a frisbee on the lawn, a few jumping bikes up and down a wide set of steps, and more milling around talking to their friends or sitting on the edge of the fountain. I reach the dining hall, a modern, angular building that’s all steel and glass from the outside. Inside, it’s all exposed beams and bamboo and no Dolce boys.
Surely they aren’t still talking to the headmaster. Unless…
My heart lurches in my chest. I’m always telling Royal to take it easy, that one day he’s going to get into it with the wrong person, the one who will file charges. Or that he’ll seriously hurt himself or someone else. Maybe even, by accident, do more than hurt them.
I gulp down my growing panic, take out my phone, and send a quick text.
When I look up, I catch sight of the third Darling boy, the one I haven’t talked to. I storm over to his table. A few kids snicker and woof at me, but I ignore them. The Darling is talking and laughing like nothing had happened, though a dark bruise is forming on his chiseled cheekbone and one eye is swollen half closed.
I slap my palm down on the round table. The group sitting there falls silent, glancing at me before turning expectantly to the Darling.
“Where are my brothers?” I ask.
The table is full, about ten people sitting with him, a mixture of athletic looking guys and pretty girls.Darling Dolls, I remember Lacey calling them. But I don’t let my curiosity distract me. I keep my eyes fixed on the Darling boy.
He grins and pushes back from the table, lounging in his seat with one arm dangling over the back of his chair. It’s a pose that makes it nearly impossible not to stare at his crotch.
“Hey, it’s the new bitch,” he says. “Sweetie, is it? That’s a good name for a dog.”
His friends snicker, but I keep my eyes on the one who spoke. I don’t want to be feared or envied or hated at Willow Heights. I just want to be quietly respected. That’s enough for me.
Apparently, these guys have other plans.
If they won’t let me have it my way, I’ll have to play their game. And I intend to win. “It’s Dolce,” I say, my voice as brittle as my first name. “You’re going to want to remember that.”
“I’m Preston,” he says without missing a beat. “You’ll want to remember that, too, so you can scream it while you cum.”
I’m the one who misses a beat. I may have run shit in Manhattan, but I had a team to back me up. Here, I’m not calling the plays anymore. And Preston knows it. The glint of malicious triumph in his eyes says as much.
He leans forward the slightest bit, his eyes hot on mine. “If you’re looking for a seat, I’ve got one for you.”
He runs one finger slowly up the front of his pants, and my eyes follow it with a kind of trancelike fascination. My heart is trembling in my chest by the time his finger stops. I gulp, staring at the slight bulge I can make out under the navy slacks.
He leans forward another inch, lowers his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, and says, “On my tip.”
I can feel heat prickling up my neck as I struggle for a comeback. Sure, there are assholes in Manhattan. But at our school? A guy would gouge out his own eyeballs before he’d speak to me that way. He’d know that I was off limits, that my brothers would murder him for messing with me.
Suddenly, I realize how wrong my brothers were. Even Daddy. Willow Heights isn’t some sad little shit hole. Faulkner isn’t a pathetic hick town. It’s a place where my name holds no power, where my family is no better than anyone else’s. It’s a place where I have no protection. Where I’m vulnerable.
Whatever I say to Preston won’t help. It will probably make it worse. I’ll be the hysterical psycho who lost it in the café, the chick who can’t take a joke. I refuse to sink to his level. Dolces have more class in one fingernail than this asshole has in his entire family. So I simply straighten, turn, and walk away with my head held high and whatever dignity I have left. Behind me, I hear hoots of laughter and people slapping Preston’s back, smacking the table at the hilarity.
“Come on, baby,” Preston calls after me. “I hear city girls have all the moves. Bounce on it like a pro.”
I realize the cafeteria has fallen silent, that everyone is watching the exchange. Waiting.
It’s not until I’m halfway to the door that I realize what they’re waiting for. From the corner of my eye, I see kids elbowing each other, relaying a message Preston must have sent with some signal behind my back. As I pass each table, everyone sitting there barks at me. It’s not a silly little sound, either. It’s that feral, dangerous noise deep in their throats, like Rottweilers on the defensive.
My knees are shaking by the time I reach the door. All I want to do is run to the nearest bathroom, lock myself inside, and let out the flood of tears threatening behind my eyes.
But then I remember that I told Dixie I’d meet her for lunch. I stop and take a deep breath, balling my hands into fists. I can run away and tell my brothers that someone was mean to me, like a baby, or I can be a big girl and stand my ground. I’m not going back over there to make a scene, tell him what a piece of shit he is. But I’m also not going to run away. Because if I run now, I’ll never stop running from them. They’ll drag me deeper and deeper into hell, laughing all the way, and they won’t stop until I make them.
So I’m stopping them right now.
I turn at the door. I draw myself up, and I swallow my pride, and I let my eyes sweep the dining hall until I find Dixie sitting at a table in the corner. She waves to me. A big grin stretches across her face when I see her, and she frantically gestures me over. Forcing my eyes not to return to the Darling table, not to beg him to call off the school, I walk toward her. I keep my gait even, not hurrying but not strolling too slowly and giving them an extra second to bark at me.
They’re all watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I won’t give them the satisfaction of a show. I slide in next to Dixie and let out a slow breath.
“Tough school,” I say, keeping my words careful, too. I don’t know this girl. Yes, she wears her heart on her sleeve, but for all I know, she’s a Darling.