“Maybe one or two,” I say in a breezy voice. “I bet that drives you crazy, doesn’t it, Jordan? That the Royals will screw everyone but you?”

Her face flushes for a second, but she recovers quickly. “Are you seriously bragging about your sluttiness?” She rolls her eyes. “You should write a book about all your experience. It’ll be a real feminist empowerment story. Fifty Shades of Banging: The High School Years.”

“Only fifty? That seems like a low number for a slut like me.”

Jordan flicks a curtain of dark hair over her shoulder. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. Figured that even you couldn’t be so insecure that you needed three hundred guys to prove your worth.”

I wonder if she’d believe me if I told her I’m still a virgin. Probably not.

But it’s true. Before Reed, I hadn’t even given so much as a blowjob.

We did a lot together, but not the final deed. I told him I was ready, but he wanted to wait. At the time, I thought it was because he was thoughtful. Now…well, I don’t have the first clue why he didn’t want my virginity.

Maybe the girls in the bathroom are right. Maybe Reed likes for Easton to break them in for him. That thought churns painfully in my stomach.

“Your snarky little insults don’t work on me, Jordan.” I straighten from the wall. I’m taller than her, and I use it to my advantage. “I fight back, remember? And I fight dirty. So go ahead, come at me. Let’s see what happens.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” she parries, but there’s a note of concern. We both hear it.

I allow a vicious smile to spread. “You should be.”

The door to the bathroom opens, and I brush by the two gossipers into the powder room. My hands are shaking and sweaty. I wipe them against my shirt and then stare at my reflection in the mirror.

Astor Park is not my crowd. It will never be my crowd. So why am I trying to change myself to fit in? Even if I dressed exactly like Jordan and wore soft makeup and pretty clothes, I still wouldn’t get the kids here to accept me.

I’m always going to be the trashy interloper.

I use the toilet, wash my hands, and then leave—without changing one thing.

Back in the main room, I survey the crowd. Tonight the football players are the gods. I don’t know if that’s true in other months, if in December, after football is over, the school revolves around the basketball team or the lacrosse team or whatever other sport. But tonight, the rulers are the broad-shouldered football guys. My gaze takes in several. Their eyes meet mine and skip away.

When I look behind me, I’m not surprised to see Reed. He’s leaning against a wall and glaring at every male in the room.

I march over to him. “You said you’d do anything for me.”

“I would,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah? Then prove it.”

“Leave you alone?” he guesses, a resigned look in his eyes.

“Yep. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me, or I swear to God I’ll find the first guy I can and screw him right in front of you.”

Something in my face or my voice must convey my seriousness because Reed gives me an abrupt nod. “For tonight then.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, and then I stalk away.

17

“What’s good?” Val asks when I step onto the porch. She presents me with a bottle of cold beer.

“I can’t find one guy who’ll look me in the eye.” I scan the crowd and spot Easton on the other side of the porch. His hand is on Shea Montgomery’s hip and they’re looking intently at each other. “I guess Reed really did lay down the law.”

“We should go over to Harrisville,” Val suggests.

“What’s that?”

“Local college about thirty minutes away. No one there gives a rat’s ass about the Astor Park social hierarchy.” She pauses. “But I am kinda surprised that anyone is listening to Reed. Word was that the Royals were on their way out.”

I take a sip of my beer before answering. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

“It’s not, though. This pecking order is set at birth. Even before. The governor of our state went to Astor. The judges he appoints are guys or girls he went to school with. What prep school you went to matters at the bigger, better colleges. What jobs you get depends on the clubs you belonged to. The more secret and exclusive, the better. That’s why I live with the Carringtons for nine months out of the year. So I can give my kids the privileged start in life that my parents didn’t have.”

“I guess. But you can still be happy without all this.” I wave the bottle toward the party. “I was happy before I came here.”

“Mmmm.” Val makes a disbelieving noise. At my frown, she says, “Were you really happy by yourself? With your sick mom to take care of? Maybe you were coping, but you can’t tell me you were truly, blissfully happy.”

“Maybe I wasn’t blissfully happy, but I was definitely happier than I am now.”

She gives a tiny shrug. “Okay, but the point is still the same. Astor is a smaller version of what we’re all going to face when we’re adults. These jerks are going to run our world unless we do something about it.”

I exhale an irritated sigh, mostly because she’s right. So how am I going to survive? I can’t run away, so I guess that means I have to face these people and deal with them. “If the Royals are on their way out, who’s on the rise?”

“Jordan, of course. She’s dating Scott Gastonburg.” Val gestures to a tall boy leaning against a fireplace mantle.

I narrow my eyes at him. He looks really familiar in his cowboy getup, except the last time I saw him, he didn’t have his jaw wired shut. The last time I saw him was at the club and he was on the floor getting his face bashed in by Reed.

“I can see why they’re a couple,” I say cattily. “She does all the talking and he can only smile and nod. The perfect boyfriend.” I don’t feel guilty at all that Reed broke this guy’s face. Scott said horrible things about me. Not as horrible as Jordan did, but still bad.

Val smirks and drinks her wine cooler in silent agreement. Then she tips her chin toward another guy sitting on the arm of a sofa. “What do you think of him?”