My heart pounds as I clutch my hands to my chest like they’re precious gems. I almost lost my ability to make music with the harp … forever. That, and they … I can’t think about the almost rape. Not right now. The Idol girls crossed a line not once, not twice, but now three times. The boys are right: they really do want to kill me. The Infinity Club might very well be the death of me for real.

Tristan’s jaw is clenched tight, his hands white knuckled and curled into fists. He looks at Harper with a glare that would scare the shit out of me if I were on the other end. She seems unfazed as she turns her blue gaze on me, pausing briefly to make sure she’s still got a sizable entourage before she comes at me again.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing right now,” Tristan says, his voice as smooth as pure cognac, “don’t.” He snaps that word off the end of his tongue, anger palpable in the chiseled lines of his handsome face. They saved me, I think, glancing from Tristan to Zayd’s bloody lip to Creed with his arm around Miranda. Poor Zack is still stuck on the opposite side of the boat, behind a wall of enemy Bluebloods.

“If you do this,” Harper begins, moving forward with her short brown hair—courtesy of Windsor York—billowing in the wind. Don’t dish it if you can’t take it. Moving back a step, I end up bumping into Zayd. One of his arms goes around me, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. It’s like with every breath, I waffle between being excited and being terrified. Please don’t touch me; touch me more; get away from me; kiss me until I see stars. “Then you’re giving up control of the school. You’re Plebs, all of you.”

Abigail Fanning and Valentina Pitt flank Harper as she moves toward us, the chair with the ropes still attached sitting between their group and ours. When I glance past Harper toward Zack, I can see that he’s bleeding from his fight.

“If you think we’ll fold that easy,” Creed drawls, glancing at me and making my entire body light up with feeling. He’s quivering, too, but he tries to keep it hidden as he tosses some of his angelic hair back from his face. Would this be an inappropriate moment to think about the hot tub? Yeah, probably. “Then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. We’ll destroy you.”

Harper’s mouth is as sharp as a blade, and her eyes glimmer with rage and hate. She does not like losing—especially not to someone like me. To her credit, she’s managed to pull in most of the Bluebloods to her side. The rest, we won’t know about until we get to shore. What she does have is a trio of boys—Greg, John, and Ben—who will likely become her side’s version of the Idols.

“So you’ll break up the greatest collection of Bluebloods in the history of Burberry Prep for some commoner? We’re the future rulers of the world. People live and die based on the decisions our families make. Tristan, I’m your fiancée.” Harper starts to move forward, and then pauses as the ladder creaks, announcing the newest attendee to our little soiree.

Windsor York, my secret weapon and amazing new friend, appears with a smirk.

“Well, bloody hell.” He hauls himself over the edge and then stands up before brushing his palms down the front of his uniform. His hazel eyes take in the scene in one, fell swoop. “Looks like I’m a bit late to the party.”

Without hesitation, he moves over to stand in front of Zayd and offers me his hand. It’s impressive how the flames from the burning boat turn his red hair, crimson. Zayd pulls me back when I reach out for Windsor, and the prince cocks an eyebrow before sighing.

“Yeah, way late, asshole.” Zayd is pissed, but not at me and not even at Windsor, but at the whole situation. Even though I appreciate the sentiment, I elbow myself from his grip and take up a strong stance of my own. Even though my friends are here, and I appreciate them, I can’t fully trust anyone but myself. “If we hadn’t gotten here when we did …” Zayd’s voice trails off, but he has to know that Windsor is most definitely on our side. He was just helping in other ways. That much I do know.

The prince gives Harper and friends a skeptical look.

“I disabled the motor on your friends’ boat. I don’t imagine they’ll be showing up tonight.” Harper turns almost the same red shade as Windsor’s hair. She’s furious. “And I’m not late.” He gives a dramatic eye roll and a wink, that I’d return if I wasn’t so shaken up. “I saw Zack on his way up here, with these idiots trailing behind.” He gestures at the Idol boys, and Tristan snarls at him. “My time was better spent elsewhere. Oh.” As if it’s just occurred to him, Windsor snaps his fingers and lifts up the front of his shirt.

There’s a tattoo there, an infinity tattoo.

The entire boat falls silent.

“I’ve been resisting the Club for a long, long time, but Marnye needs someone on the inside to watch her back, so … here I am!” Windsor lifts his arms for emphasis, ever the showman. “Oh, and I’m an awful, dirty fucking wanker. I don’t have a trust fund, or parents breathing down my neck that control my purse strings: I have nine billion in personal assets to play with.” Windsor pauses, resting his head in his hand. “Well, twelve billion in US dollars, I suppose.”

“Do you think I’m threatened by you?” Harper snorts a laugh. “Some tenth-string prince from a country nobody even knows about?”

“England?” Windsor asks, his voice tinted with wry humor. “You do understand where the pilgrims came from, right?”

Harper spins to Tristan, desperate to make headway with someone. Clearly, Windsor isn’t interested in her games. The boy dances to the beat of his own drum, that’s for sure.

“Last chance, Tristan.” Harper is dead serious, but Tristan simply smirks at her.

“You’re going to wish you’d never met me,” he says, his voice like steel. Zack moves around behind the pack of Bluebloods to stand beside me. I feel sick when I see the blood running down the side of his face; he needs some stitches, pronto. His dark eyes catch on mine, and I shiver. I owe him for taking on Greg, John, and Ben. Three on one, very impressive.

“Consider that goal accomplished,” Harper snaps, chucking the expensive ring at her ex-fiancé. Tristan catches it no problem, and then turns to me.

“Let’s go. I’ve got one of Dad’s yachts.” Tristan comes over to stand beside me, cupping the side of my face as the other boys stiffen up. Well, except for Windsor: he just laughs and the sound echoes across the lake. The King of Burberry Prep then runs his thumb along my lower lip before he sneers at the prince. I use that moment to separate myself from him, giving my heart some distance so my brain can think clearly.

Miranda looks at me, and I’m having a hard time figuring out why she looks half afraid, and half jealous. Jealous of who? Not of me, right? She comes over to stand next to me, pulling away from Creed, and then whispers in my ear.

“Which one?” She takes in the boys with a reserved, sweeping gaze, while Harper and her cronies slowly file off the boat. Nothing more can be accomplished here. Next year … there’s going to be a war.

I don’t say anything because I’m distracted by Tristan getting up in Windsor’s face.

“You, go home to England and fuck off; we don’t need you here.”

“And who, precisely, is we?” the prince asks, glancing at me with glittering hazel eyes. He cocks a brow as Tristan looks between the two of us and scowls. He straightens up his wool coat and turns his glare back on Windsor. “As far as I can see it, Marnye very much needs me.”

“How so?” Tristan demands, lifting his chin in challenge. I’m not sure that I can ever really trust him, or that he’ll ever really be mine, but … at least he’s a powerful ally to have against Harper du Pont.

“Because, we’re dating,” Windsor says innocently. I’m not sure if he’s trying to buy me time, give me an out, or … if he really would like to date me. I’ll have to worry about that later. None of the boys seems particularly happy about it though.

Tristan just glances at me with his storm-gray eyes, and then turns to head for the boat’s ladder. But Harper’s still standing there, waiting. She meets his eyes with a challenge burning in hers, and then turns to me.

“Enjoy the summer, Marnye. It’s going to be your last.” Harpers turns, and disappears down the ladder, just before we hear a boat’s engine start up with a grumble.

“Did she just threaten my life?” I choke out, but why should I be surprised? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Well shit … School is out, summer has started, and in the morning, we’re all supposed to head home. I’ll go back to Cruz Bay and Charlie while the boys go … wherever it is that they go.

For now, it’s all on hold.

Come September, all gloves are off. At least, that’s what I think in that moment.

“Come on, Marnye, I’ve got a boat, too,” Miranda says, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the boys. I ignore them all as I walk past and climb down the ladder, but they follow after me anyway.

Second year at Burberry Preparatory Academy was hard as hell.

Third year’s going to be a fucking nightmare.

When I first get home from the graduation getaway, I collapse on the bed in my new room, the harp Zack gifted me sitting against the opposite wall. I close my eyes and I’m out for a good twelve hours. When I wake up later, dry mouthed and in desperate need of water, I decide that I really am going to miss the Train Car. I’m proud of Dad for finding this house for us, and even in its modesty, it’s four times bigger and ten times nicer than the trailer park.

Still … change is hard sometimes, even when that change is good. It takes adjustment. And anyway, I can only live in one place: I have to choose.

Padding into the kitchen, I squint through the bright sunshine as I dig through the cabinets in search of a water glass. They’re all empty, so I move onto the boxes, tossing wads of brown packing paper on the floor. Once I find a cup, I fill it up, drink it all, fill it up again. And then I finally check my phone, scrolling past a text message from Dad letting me know that he’ll be home later tonight.