Finals for fourth year Burberry Prep students are considered some of the most difficult in the country, on par with the academic standards of most universities. I’m sure I’ve bombed everything when Creed and Miranda knock on Zack’s door, waking us both up from a seriously important nap. We’re all so overworked, like we always are at this time of year, that sleep is essential.

“You did it,” the twins say at the same time as they step into the apartment together, and then glare at one another. They don’t often speak in unison like that.

“Did what?” I ask on the tail-end of a yawn, feeling a little like Creed in that moment. Too bad my tired, boneless ass can’t elegantly drape itself across furniture like the arrogant blond brat in front of me.

“You beat Tristan,” he tells me, a sort of malicious glee coloring his voice at seeing his rival brought down a notch.

“What?!”

I shout so loud that Zack comes running, his sweats low-slung, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“This better be life or death,” he murmurs, but I’m already grabbing his hoodie and slipping it on over my tank. On our way down to the first floor, we grab Zayd, Tristan, and Windsor and then head down the chapel hall to look at class rankings for the last time.

Harper is there, but I ignore her. She can’t hurt me in a crowd this size. Besides, we only have a few days left until graduation, and I’m starting to wonder if she hasn’t finally given up.

I should’ve known better.

The crowd parts to let the Bluebloods through, and we all gather around to stare at the list.

There I am.

Valedictorian.

I glance over at Tristan to see if he’s pissed, but he’s actually … smiling?! Like, it’s a real smile, true and genuine.

“I’ve never been so happy to lose in all my life,” he says, and then I throw my arms around him and kiss him. Not just him either, but all of them. Windsor, Zayd, Creed, Zack.

“I feel like I should make us a round of—”

“Don’t say it,” Creed interrupts, putting two fingers to his temple. “Nobody wants your boiled plant water.”

“I was going to say cocktails, but since you just insulted the national beverage of my homeland, I should kick your ass before I serve them.” Windsor glances over at me, and flashes a blinding grin. “A mocktail for you, Milady, since I can’t exactly serve you a virgin drink anymore.”

“Hilarious,” I drawl with a roll of my eyes, but I let him take my hand anyway and pull me through the crowd. In typical Burberry Prep fashion, there’s a party tonight, but it’s not one of ours. Actually, it’s being thrown by some very promising first years.

We attend as a group: me, my boys, Miranda, and Andrew.

I’m so pleased with the party itself, and the general camaraderie of the students, I give one of the girls my light-up star scepter.

“Have fun being an Idol,” I whisper as I turn and walk away, the entire crowd pausing in their reverie to watch my little group as we make our way out of the party, wearing our all-black fourth year uniforms for the very last time.

I’ve just passed the crown, and it feels damn good, like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.

Tomorrow, I’ll get to see Charlie.

Tomorrow, I can give my speech, exact my revenge, and once midnight hits, I’ll be like Cinderella at the ball. Instead of losing my magic however, I’ll walk away from the clutches of the Infinity Club with my life.

I put my hand over my slashed-out infinity tattoo, climb behind the wheel of the Maserati, and head back to campus.

All five guys spend the night in my room, and we aren’t exactly wearing clothes.

They don’t touch each other, but they let me touch them, one by one, working my way through until I’m sweaty and exhausted and falling asleep in a pile I never want to leave.

Never.

The last day of school comes much quicker than I anticipated, leaving me in this whirlwind where I’m always in a rush from one thing to another, whether it’s project or an orchestra performance or a scholarship deadline. It feels like I might never breathe again.

Until … I do.

Everything comes to a stop, but not like the storm has passed, more like I’m in the eye of it.

“You look way hotter in your graduation gown than I do,” Miranda whines, adjusting her glorious blond hair around her face and proving that that is most definitely not true. She looks beautiful, like she always does. In another time or another place, we’d probably be soulmates.

Yep.

I’d definitely add her to my harem.

Speaking of harems … My heart beats wildly in my chest as I sit down on the edge of my bed and think about the decision I made last week. It’s been haunting me ever since, but I know in my heart it’s the right one. During first year, when I got those three boxes filled with glittering dresses, I chose one. And I wished I hadn’t. Not because Zayd was the wrong choice, but because Creed and Tristan were just as right.

My choice now remains the same: I either pick all of them … or I pick none of them.

That’s what I’ve decided, although both avenues might lead me to the same place. They might say hell to it, and walk away, but at least that’d be their choice.

“Are you okay?” Miranda asks as Andrew comes out of the bathroom, putting his cap on and examining himself in the mirror. He’s too excited about his trip to Connecticut tomorrow to be thinking much about anything else. He’s off to meet his email pen pal which I’m still not sure is a good idea. I did stalk the dude, some guy named Ross from Adamson All-Boys Academy. Seems legit, although I did read online that a girl died on campus once, when they tried to integrate the students. Scary.

“I’m fine,” I say, blinking myself out of my stupor and glancing over at her. I’ve got fresh rose-gold in my hair, a new very short and very edgy ‘do, and an Idol’s Eye necklace hanging between my breasts. Dad’s charm bracelet is on my arm, and I’ve tucked a little something from each boy into the pockets of the jeans I’m wearing underneath the black gown. “Really.”

“You like you’re about to attend a funeral, not a graduation,” Andrew says, and then Miranda gives him a hard, sharp look to shut him up.

Charlie is … not doing well. So not well, in fact, that I still don’t know if he should even be coming today. I told him I’d take my cap, gown, and diploma home and we could have our own ceremony in the backyard but he wasn’t having it.

Jennifer agreed to go with him, along with his health aide. Dad told me in his most recent text that seeing his little girl graduate was the culmination of his life goals. I didn’t like that. But how could I deny him after?

“Let’s go,” I say, standing up and heading out the door. The boys are all waiting, lounging in their various ways in the hallway. Creed slouches against the wall while Tristan stands straight and tall; Zayd bobs his head in time to the single earbud in his ear and grins at me while Zack smiles, but keeps his big arms crossed over his chest. Windsor hands me a bouquet of flowers.

“This is from all of us. We each picked a type of flower to add to the bouquet. It was agreed that five giant floral bunches was simply not going to do.” I smile and give him a hug, knowing they’re all waiting for the after-party tonight so we can talk about our plans.

My plans, specifically.

They’re all waiting for me to choose.

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. I glance back at the door to my room, the old janitor’s closet turned mini-palace, and I think about all the amazing times we had in there, the movies we watched, the tea we drank, the sex … Oh, God, the sex.

How can this really be it? The end of four, long years. The end of bullying and bets and romance.

“Goodbye Brothel,” I whisper, feeling tears sting my eyes. I push forward and out the doors, taking my friends with me. The Idols, the Bluebloods, the filthy rich boys, the elite of the school. That’s us now, here, together on our last and final day as students of Burberry Preparatory Academy.

“Keep your guard up,” Windsor whispers as we make our way to the waiting limos and pile in.

“We’re in the home stretch now, but we haven’t won the game,” Zack agrees, looking out the window.

I check my phone: we still have about twelve hours until that horrible Infinity Club bet goes by the wayside.

Twelve more hours to survive the worst bullies I’ve ever encountered, or will ever encounter.

Twelve. Fucking. Hours.

We climb out of the limo near the football field where the graduation ceremony is taking place, and I thank whatever gods or deities will listen that it’s not happening in the amphitheater where I spent the end of my first year being humiliated.

Harper is breezing across the field with her parents in tow, laughing, smiling. They look so normal, but I won’t let myself forget that her parents are senior Infinity Club members. They could very well be some of the ones pushing their own child to commit murder.