Page 13 of Raise Hell

Actually, I’m counting on it.

“Some people might call it a little too streaky, but I like it.” She flashes me a smile she must think makes up for the backhanded compliment. “You have to tell me what it’s like to be back at St. Bart’s, especially after…everything that happened.”

The girl isn’t subtle, I have to give her that.

“I think it’s the same,” I say casually. A shimmery Givenchy top is crumpled next to her on the bed. I pick it up before she gets any ideas about “borrowing” it without asking. “Just between us, I don’t actually remember very much about what happened. There are some fuzzy memories of being at the party, then everything after that is really just a blur.”

“Wow. You really don’t remember anything? No wonder you were able to come back.”

She stops before saying what we both know she’s thinking.

If I actually remembered what happened, then I’d be too embarrassed to show my face at St. Bart’s again.

Little does she know that embarrassment isn’t something I’m capable of feeling, at least not anymore. The anger makes a pretty good substitute.

“I just want to move forward, you know.” I turn my face away so she won’t see my eyes roll. Hopefully, she thinks I’m holding back tears. “The past is past. I can’t change it, so might as well move on.”

“You were never this chill last year. It’s like a whole new you.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of this entire situation. “You have no idea.”

“I watched this show once where a girl had repressed her memories of being raped because the trauma was so much, she couldn’t take it.” Leaning forward, Anya studies my face with wide eyes like I’m some sort of lab specimen. Rumors about my convenient amnesia will be spreading around school like wildfire as soon as she picks up her phone. “Maybe that’s what happened to you.”

My lip trembles, and I hope she notices. I keep my voice deliberately soft when I ask, “Is that what people are saying happened?”

“I don’t really know. I don’t listen to gossip.”

And I’m a three-toed sloth. “That’s okay. It’s probably better that I don’t know.”

“People suck.” She lowers her voice, even though we’re completely alone in the room. “You really should watch yourself around the Havoc Boys, by the way. It was one of their parties that got broken up because of what happened. The police were swarming campus for hours afterward. I heard their house even got searched. They might blame you for that.”

Because the girl who gets dragged out to the forest, beaten, and sexually assaulted is the one responsible for harshing everyone’s mellow.

“I’m not here to cause problems.” The hanger in my hand makes a snapping sound, and I put it down before it breaks. Breathe in. Breathe out. The anger is useful, but only if I keep it under control. “Everyone will realize that, eventually.”

“Absolutely.” Anya jumps to her feet. Her gaze shifts over one of the dresses I have laid out on the bed. It’s a pale purple slip dress made of silk that I picked up from some vintage store. “Can I…”

I interrupt before she asks to borrow my clothes. Pretending to be nice and sweet is necessary for my plan, but it only goes so far. “You’ll have to let me know the next time that Havoc House has a party. They’re usually invite only, right?”

“They are,” she replies slowly, obviously surprised. “Are you sure you’re up for something like that, going back to the scene of the crime?” Anya seems to realize as soon as she says it that using the word crime is practically a direct insult to Havoc House. She rushes to correct herself. “I mean, where it all happened.”

I just stare at her for a long moment “Yeah, sure I would.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

“I’m actually getting really tired, and I still need to get settled in.” I press my palm to lips that don’t actually open in a yawn. “Can you come back in a bit?”

“Of course, we’ll catch up later. I’m really glad you’re back.” She heads for the door, but hesitates. “I know we weren’t really friends before, but I’m glad you came back. I’m having dinner with a few other girls at seven, if you want to come with us.”

The first rule of playing cool is making it clear that your time isn’t a given. The girls of St. Bart’s are going to have to come to me. As soon as I seem desperate for their attention, my entire plan falls apart.

“I make it a point to never eat more than two meals a day.” The patent falsehood slides off my tongue like melted butter. I love to eat good food, but cool girls don’t overindulge. “I’ll let you know if I feel up to it.”

“Great.” Anya closes the door slowly, obviously hoping I’ll say something else.

I wait for the door to completely shut before the smile on my face finally relaxes. I’ve smiled more today than in the rest of my life combined. It takes a conscious effort to keep the resting bitch face at bay.

The room is nice, but I was hoping not to have a roommate. I have to keep the mask in place every moment I’m not alone in this place. It’s only been one day, and I’m already struggling to keep the disgust and anger from spilling through.

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