“I thought you’d sit with the Darlings today,” I mutter. Because yeah, I’m a petty bitch.
Dolly turns to me. “Devlin is my friend, Crystal,” she says. “I know he did some bad shit to you, but you did him wrong, too. And y’all got him and his dad arrested.”
“We didn’t get him arrested,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.
She holds up a manicured hand. “I’m not taking sides because you’re both my friends. Unless you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”
I swallow hard and nod. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch. Of course we’re still friends.”
“I’ve known those boys since we were in diapers,” she says. “But the Darlings don’t own me. No one tells me where to sit.”
“You’re friends with them?” Royal asks, nodding across the room to the Darlings table. I have to remind myself how much changed in the week he was gone. We told him how the twins ended up with Dolly, and that she took our side and stood up to the most powerful family in town, but he hasn’t seen any of it play out in real life.
“Yes,” Dolly says, raising her chin and meeting his eyes with a challenge.
“Then I’m telling you where to sit,” Royal says. “And it’s not at our table.”
“Royal…” I start.
“No, it’s fine,” Dolly says, picking up her tiny purse and her soda. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Royal, and I’m sorry for coming over here if it’s triggering for you.”
“It’s not triggering me,” Royal snaps. “It’s pissing me off.”
“Okay, you both need to stop,” I say, pressing my palms down on the table and staring at my twin. “Dolly’s one of my best friends now, and you can’t tell either of us who to be friends with.”
“You’re right,” he says. Without another word, he gets up and stalks off, leaving his lunch on the table. My throat aches as I watch him go. What have I done?
I stand, but King’s hand closes around my arm, and he pulls me back down into my seat. “Give him time,” he says. “He’s been through a lot.”
“And he doesn’t have to go through it alone anymore,” I say. “Why is he pushing me away?”
“I’ll go talk to him,” King says. He gathers his and Royal’s food, leans over to plant a quick kiss on top of my head, and walks off.
“Trouble at home?” Dixie whispers to me.
I shrug, pretending I’m fine, that we’re fine, that everything is fucking fine.
“Trouble’s walking this way,” Dolly says.
Colt Darling strolls toward us, taking his sweet time, soaking up the attention he’s gathering. When the Darlings are on the move, everyone watches. They’ve created this environment at Willow Heights, an intoxicating combination of anticipation, fear, and sometimes, payoff. It’s strangely addictive, this adrenaline followed by a reward or a punishment, like the rush an addict gets from gambling. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll pluck you from obscurity, put a necklace around your neck, and proclaim you untouchable… For a time. Or maybe they’ll snap a dog collar on and publicly humiliate you.
Anticipation ripples through the cafeteria as students fall silent, waiting for what comes next, craning to see what he’s holding balled up in his fist. Some of them are probably shaking, hoping he won’t stop at their table. Some are praying he will. But most just want to hear what he’ll say. They want the gossip, crave it, need it like oxygen. Excitement buzzes in Colt’s wake because this time, they won the roll of the dice, and it isn’t them. But for one person, it is.
Colt stops at our table, and my eyes move down to what he’s carrying. “The Darling Dog claims her rightful title,” he drawls, opening his hand to reveal a studded dog collar. “Welcome back, Winn-Dixie. I like what you’ve done with yourself. It’s almost like you were waiting for me to put this collar on you all along. Weren’t you, girl?”
Dixie nods mutely, her eyes wide as she stares up at him with a dumbstruck expression that makes me hurt for her even as I want to shake some sense into her. Colt gives her an affectionate chuck under the chin before snapping the dog collar around her neck. She ducks her head, her face flaming, as he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a dog ear headband, and settles it onto her head in front of the pile of hair she’s fixed into a messy bun.
Suddenly, anger flares bright and hot inside me. “You better take that off her, or you’re going to end up wearing it,” I snap at him. “Dixie’s not a dog. And don’t even start threatening how you’ll treat me the same. I’m not wearing that, and neither is anyone else at this table, or at this school.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Colt says, giving me an easy smile. “We still run this school, Sweet Thing. You keep thinking you’ve disrupted things, but you’re just providing us with entertainment. Isn’t that right?”
He turns to the next table, where everyone nods vigorously, eager to please their rulers.
“And you put on quite a show,” Colt says, gesturing a finger back toward his table. “See, we’re as solid as ever. You can’t beat us. You can either join us, or you can leave this school. There’s no third option.”
“I don’t mind,” Dixie says. “I’ll be the Darling Dog again.”
“See, that’s a good dog,” Colt croons, his voice almost tender as he hooks his finger into the ring on the front of the collar and pulls it up so she’s forced to face him again. “This girl’s smart. She knows her place around here. She knows being the Dog isn’t a punishment. It’s an honor. Right, Winn-Dixie?”