Ms. Mann nods regally. “I agree, Miss Worthington. It is shameful.”

Instead of giving Felicity the trashy response she deserves, I hustle Pash down the hall.

“What’s going on?” he asks, a little bewildered.

“Thanks for having my back.”

“Always.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I think Hartley might be in real trouble.”

“What?”

“Dunno. Like I said, her locker was searched, and Beringer came to get her before class started.” I give him a sideways glance. “You didn’t say anything about Ms. Mann and me, did you?”

He frowns. “’Course not. Why would I?”

“Right.” I stop just short of the Admin office. “It’s out there, though.”

“You weren’t very discreet about it,” he points out.

“I know.” I rub my forehead. I’m starting to feel a dull ache at my temples, but before I can start banging my head against the wall, the office door opens and Hartley appears.

“What happened?”

“I…” She has a dazed look on her face. “I can’t even…”

I immediately take her arm and direct her toward the back exit. Pash hurries after us, but Hartley doesn’t seem to notice him. She keeps shaking her head in astonishment.

“I’m being suspended for the rest of the week, and a letter is being put in my permanent record.”

Behind us, Pash whistles.

“For what?” I demand.

She gulps. “For cheating. I got a really good score on the last quiz because I used your notes to study. I didn’t realize that was cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. Is that what they accused you of?” I say angrily. “That’s bullshit. My dad will take care of this.” I whip out my phone and start one-hand texting.

“No,” Hartley protests. “Please don’t do that.”

Reluctantly, I slide the phone back in my pocket. My jaw remains tense as I ask, “What exactly did Beringer say?”

“That my scores were statistically so much better than how I performed before that it must be because of some type of outside help. He asked if I had tutoring. I said no. He asked if someone helped me. I said no. I forgot about your notes, because when they asked if someone helped me, I imagined someone sitting beside me, like a tutor, you know?”

Pash and I both nod.

“Easy mistake,” Pash says gently.

“But then my guidance counselor—he was there, too—pulled out an answer sheet.”

“To the quiz?” I ask.

She nods miserably. “They found it in my locker folded and taped into the back of All About the Girl,” she mumbles, referring to the book we’re reading in Feminist Thought.

My mind’s whirling. The pieces are starting to fall into place. Ms. Mann looking smug instead of scared. Felicity blabbering on about Astor’s declining reputation.

Oh hell no.

“Let’s go,” I growl, taking Hartley’s wrist.

“Where?” she squeaks.

“Yeah, where?” Pash echoes.

“To clear Hartley’s name.”

It’s easy to find Felicity. She hasn’t moved from her locker—it’s as if she was waiting for me. A couple of frenemies flank either side of her. One of them happens to be Claire.

I raise my eyebrows and Claire responds by jutting her chin. Is this show of defiance something I should care about? Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I dismiss her and turn to Felicity.

“Felicity.” I bare my teeth in a cheerless smile.

“Easton.” Her smile is equally icy.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you need to stop.”

“Why should I?” she says.

I’m momentarily stunned into silence. I thought for sure she’d deny that she did anything wrong.

“Wait a minute.” Hartley shoves me out of the way, as if it’s just dawned on her why I made a beeline for Felicity. “You planted those notes in my locker?” Her head swivels to me. “She planted the notes?”

I nod grimly. Felicity smiles again.

Shock and anger flood Hartley’s gray eyes, darkening them to metallic silver. “Why!” she growls at Felicity. “Why the hell would you do that! I could’ve been kicked out of school!”

“So?”

Hartley lunges forward, and it takes both me and Pash to yank her away from Felicity. Catfights are hot as hell, but not when Felicity Worthington is one of the fighters. And not when Hartley is so obviously close to tears.

“Enough!” I jab a finger in front of Felicity. “You’re gonna pay for this, you hear me? You can’t just go around destroying people’s reputations—”

Felicity interrupts with a loud, genuinely amused laugh. “Oh my God! You are such a hypocrite!” Her continued laughter makes my blood boil. “You and Reed destroyed Ella’s reputation before she even got to Astor! And you tried to destroy mine with that stunt you pulled at my party!”

Fuck, that drunken mistake is going to haunt me forever. I am never allowed to drink again. Ever.

“So, no, I couldn’t care less if you”—Felicity sneers at Hartley—“get kicked out of school. Actually, I’m disappointed Beringer went so easy on you.” She pushes away from the lockers and brushes by us. Over her shoulder she says, “By the way, I’m just getting started.”

Her friends follow, including Claire, who smirks as she passes Hartley. “Your ass looks huge in that picture,” she snarks. “You might want to look into a gym membership.”

Claire flounces off before Hartley can respond. She joins up with Felicity and the other girls, and their laughter echoes through the hall. I can still hear it even as they all turn the corner.

Chapter 26

Hartley’s face is beet red. Pash, meanwhile, gapes in the direction where Felicity and her posse headed off. “What is wrong with her?” he marvels.

I let out a ragged breath. “No clue.”

“She probably needs a good—”

I sense more than see Hartley about to explode and so I slap a hand over Pash’s mouth before he gets us both in trouble.

“Don’t say it,” I warn.

“What?” he mumbles and shoves me off. “I was going to say she needs a good kick in the ass.”

I give him a sure you did look before straightening my jacket. He responds by pulling his phone from his pocket, and starts swiping.

“You humiliated her,” Hartley says finally. “Or we did. She said she was dating you and you kept denying it. Then you told her she could break up with you but instead you went to her house, her party, and embarrassed her in front of all her friends.”

“And I guess this was the icing on the cake,” Pash remarks.

We look over at him for clarification. He holds up his phone.

Dammit. The picture that girl took at the pier last night stares back at me. She used the Astor hashtag, and although she posted the picture just this morning, there are already tons of likes. More than a thousand people have enjoyed the sight of Hartley and me staring moodily into each other’s eyes with the Ferris wheel in the background.

Hartley groans. “Oh God, it’s the top post on the feed. If that’s not rubbing salt in Felicity’s wound, I don’t know what is. I’d want revenge, too.”

“It’s a nice shot,” Pash comments.

“A nice shot?” I say incredulously.

“Yeah. Nice shot. Whoever took it used high speed and caught the lights. It looks professional.” He scowls at me. “So it’s the top post because it’s a good photo, not because you two are in it. Sorry to burst your giant ego.”

I return his glare. “She’s targeting Hartley because of me. That’s not my giant ego talking. That’s the truth.”

“Can you two stop fighting?” Hartley interrupts. “Does it really matter why the picture is popular?”

“She’s right,” Pash says. “The question is, how do we get Felicity to calm the eff down?”