“I will,” I say, wondering if I’m about to get raked over the coals by yet another person who’s pissed at me. “And I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Dixie says, seeming to soften. “It wasn’t the first time he dumped me, or the first time they fucked him up, but it was the worst time for both. I mean, when he broke up with me on Bye Week last year, he sounded like he was done for good. But I knew we’d get back together. It’s fate. We’re meant to be together. It was only a matter of time.”
“Pretty shitty way to get back together, though,” I say, spreading cream cheese on my bagel. I try not to feel weird about her words. When it comes to happiness, we all take what we can get and make the most of it. If Colt doesn’t mind that she used his attack to her advantage, it’s not my business. They have years of history I know nothing about, but I already know he hasn’t always been good to her. If she can forgive him, good for her for going after what she wants.
“Well, I was there for him, like I always am,” she says. “Through all of it, even when he first woke up and hardly remembered anything. He still doesn’t remember breaking up with me, but of course I told him. I’m not going to lie to him. He had to go through months of texts to try to remember what happened. Thank goodness for my blog, so he could get caught up on the social scene after missing last year.”
“Right,” I say, shaking my head and trying to focus on my own problem instead of sticking my nose in hers. “So, he came back at the start of this year, right?”
“Yeah,” she says. “With Royal gone, things are definitely more relaxed, but also kind of uneasy. It’s like when a dictator falls, and there’s this power vacuum, right? The government is still unstable.”
“Thank fuck,” I say, sitting back in my chair.
Dixie raises a brow. “Something I should know?”
“Nothing on the record,” I say. “But let’s just say I have some moves up my sleeve.”
“Are you planning revenge on the Dolces?” she asks with an eager smile, leaning in and lowering her voice. “Because I know people.”
Josies shakes her head. “Are you going to smash the patriarchy and reinstate democracy, too, or are you more of one-issue voter?”
“I like to focus on one cause, yes,” I say before turning to Dixie. “Hit me up in a few days?”
“Just remember where it got you last year,” Dixie says. “And Colt.”
“Noted,” I say. “I’m not bringing anyone into this who doesn’t want to be. I’m not risking anyone but myself. But be ready.”
Josie gives me a curious look. “Aren’t you Royal’s girlfriend?” she asks. “Y’all made that big scene yesterday morning.”
“Oh my god, I didn’t even properly introduce y’all,” Dixie says, straightening in her seat. “Josie, Harper, meet. Harper went here most of last year. She started out here at our table before becoming a Dolce girl, and yes, she dated Royal Dolce before she went missing over spring break.”
“Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I always suspected Royal,” Dixie says, leaning in and lowering her voice. “But then, I wasn’t his biggest fan, and you weren’t the first girl close to him to disappear. What ever happened between you, anyway? You hated him, and then you loved him, and then you disappeared. I figured you were locked in his basement or something. Want to tell me what happened?”
“For the blog? Nah, I’ll pass,” I say. “And you can’t seriously blame Royal for his sister’s death.”
“I blame their whole family,” she says. “Not just Royal.”
“Fair enough,” I say. There’s no use arguing. She and Royal took opposite sides in the Darling-Dolce feud, and there’s no crossing that line. She doesn’t want to hear how much Royal loved his sister and worships her memory even now. She wants someone to blame for the loss of her best friend.
“Josie’s a transfer from Hellstern,” she goes on, gesturing at her friend.
“Recent refugee from Hell High,” Josie agrees, tossing a piece of bagel in the air and catching it in her mouth. Gloria’s wrong. She may be lacking curves and a flatiron, but she’s pretty even without fixing herself up. Her thick, dark hair hangs to her elbows, and her striking, pale jade green eyes are framed by long, full lashes and heavy brows.
Dixie gestures to her. “Josie’s a senior like us. I’m trying to convince her to join the dance team, but so far, no luck.”
Josie shrugs. “Shaking your ass for a bunch of dudes who run around bashing each other for the town’s entertainment… I don’t know, it’s kinda gross, right?”
“But it’s an extracurricular,” Dixie says. “It’ll look good on college applications. That’s the only reason to move here for senior year. So your diploma shows you graduated from Willow Heights.”
“I’m on debate and student council and the tutoring team,” Josie says. “Besides, the whole football scene just perpetuates and reinforces the culture of toxic masculinity.”
“Oh boy,” Dixie says. “Don’t let anyone at this school here you say that.”
“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” I say, grinning at Josie.
“I seriously doubt that,” she says, popping a piece of bagel into her mouth and giving my outfit a meaningful glance. I remember her dismissive once-over yesterday, and I’m not sure how to respond. I’m used to being the chick who doesn’t give a fuck what people think. I’m used to people judging me for being poor white trash. Now, I’m someone whose survival depends on having allies and friends, and that necessitates caring what people think. Now, I’m being judged for looking rich, even though I’m not.