“Yeah,” Dolly says. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know about it, but I heard my dad talking about it once when I was a kid. They’re super exclusive, and you have to go through some big hazing-type ceremony to get in. Once you’re in, though… You’re in for life.”
Sounds a lot like the mafia,I think. I keep that to myself, though.
“Wow,” Dixie breathes. “I wonder if my dad’s in it.”
“Pretty much everyone who’s a member goes to an Ivy League school, and every big-shot here in Faulkner has been a member,” Dolly says. “All the alums in the area come to the meetings, and of course the new initiates.”
“Which are the three Darlings who go to school here,” I guess.
“Yeah,” she says. “They meet here at night. I’m pretty sure Grampa Darling is the head of the Swans, but I’m sure only the members know that for sure.”
Realization jolts through me. Last night, Devlin told me he’d “ask around” about Royal. He had to mean he’d ask his grandfather, the guy who apparently knows everything that goes on in this town. I can’t help the rush of adrenaline that races through me at the knowledge that he’s going to take that risk for me. For my brother, who he hates.
Maybe I can make him fall for me after all. Maybe he’s already starting to.
My pulse flutters at the thought, but I push away those feelings and turn to my friends. “Do you know when and where they meet?”
“No,” Dolly says. “Crystal, you can’t do whatever you’re thinking about doing. If you spy on their meeting, they’ll… I don’t know what they’d do. But you don’t want to do that.”
“Maybe I do,” I say.
Before she can argue, the bell rings. A group of girls enter the bathroom, and we walk out.
Both of Devlin’s cousins are standing not two feet outside the bathroom like some sort of creepers. When Preston sees us, his eyes blaze with fury. His wrist and forearm are in a cast. I wince, swallowing hard. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt like that. A milk shower is hardly worth a football career.
“You’re hanging out withher?” he asks, his gaze burning into me.
“I told you, I’m tired of being your doll,” Dolly says. “You don’t get to pick my friends. Go to hell, Preston Darling.”
She pushes past him and marches off, her tiny pink purse swinging from her wrist.
“Get lost, Winn-Dixie,” Colt says, tossing his hair off his forehead and jerking his chin toward my other friend.
“Sorry,” she whispers to me before scurrying away.
I look from one boy to the next, my heart in my throat, replaying what Carmen said. Was that a rumor that escalated, or a warning of what they have planned?
“You,” Preston says to me, his tan cheeks flushed darker with anger. Everything about him is sharp as a blade—his eyes, his chin, his jaw, the spikes in his hair. He’s all angles and cold fury. He takes one step forward, his broad shoulders menacing as he backs me against the wall. “Why the fuck are you still here?”
A shiver goes through me, and I swallow hard before speaking. “I’m sorry,” I say truthfully. “I wouldn’t wish that injury on anyone, Preston. Not even you.”
His blue eyes pierce into me, and he crowds forward until he’s almost touching me, just an inch of space between us. He speaks slowly, gritting out the words. “You better leave this school and disappear like your brother.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about Royal,” I hiss back. “Unless you’re telling me where he is.”
“The only thing I’m telling you is to go away,” he says. “If you’re not gone by the end of the day, you’re going to be sorry you ever set foot in this school.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me standing there shaking with Colt. He tosses his hair out of his eyes in that casual gesture, like what just happened is nothing to him. “If I were you, I’d listen,” he says. “Why don’t you go on back to New York where you belong? Wouldn’t that be nicer than having everyone despise you? That can’t be fun, now can it, Sweetie Pie?”
“Fuck off and die,” I say, pushing away from the wall. “You know, every time I talk to one of you, I think that one has to be the worst.”
“Now, don’t be like that,” he says with an easy grin, falling into step beside me. “You know we’re warning you for your own good. Preston’s going to rape your ass if you don’t listen.”
I stop in the middle of the hall, letting everyone else go around, though half of them slow and crane their necks to see what their prince is doing with me, the school dog.
“Seriously, what is it, Colt?” I demand. “Do you have a contest to see which one of you can be most psychotic every day?”
Colt steps closer, dropping his voice and touching my elbow. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I see real concern. This is the boy who was my friend, the boy who joked with me in class, the boy who kissed me at homecoming.