Extraits

Our gazes met, and the crowd takes in a collective inhale as Zayd makes his way over to stand in front of me. His chest is heaving, and he's soaked in sweat, his pale blue hair stuck to his forehead. There's no gel in it this morning, no liner around his eyes. He looks like he wants to kill me.

"What have you done?" he snaps, but all I do is stand there and stare. I make myself remember my panties in his hand, that video of us kissing on the screen. The trophy, his face, the way he just stood there with his arm around freaking Becky Platter instead of me.

"Challenge accepted, met, and executed," I say.

"As I'm sure most of you are aware," Principal Collins continues, moving across the stage with slow, deliberate footsteps, "the way last year ended was an embarassment to the Burberry Prep name, a smear on our traditions, and a horrific example of unchecked privilege." She pauses at the very edge of the platform, and I definitely don't miss it when she turns her attention briefly up to the Gallery and the gathered Bluebloods. I shift in my seat; I sense a possible ally in Mrs. Collins. I'll have to be careful to cultivate that relationship. "This year, we won't make the same mistakes again. Read up on the school handbook because you're responsible for being aware of all the changes to our academic policies. Those in violation will face suspension or expulsion, no exceptions."

She pauses, stares the crowd down once more, and then proceeds with the usual first day annoncements.

But there's not an eye in that room that isn't on me.

Good.

Let them look.

There's going to be a lot to see.

I smile as I head into the kitchenette area to make some tea. Windsor watches me plop a Lipton tea bag into a cup of lukewarm water and toss it into the microwave.

He looks like he might puke.

"Most of the Bluebloods are banned from going off campus for the remainder of the year," I explain as I press the buttons on the microwave. Without skipping a beat, Windsor reaches over my shoulder and grabs my hand, gently pulling me back. He then goes about pulling out a kettle from one of the cabinets, filling it with water, and putting it on the single burner stove. "What are you doing?"

"Making you a proper cup of tea."

“As he passes Harper du Pont, he pulls something from his pocket, walks right up to her, and chops her ponytail off at the base.”

“Windsor offers me his arm, and I decide then that he’s good people. Really fucking good people.”