Page 32 of Cry Havoc

“I have a younger brother in elementary school,” Anya answers promptly, then seems to think about that for a second. “Judging from how many years there are between us, I don’t think he was planned.”

“Or you weren’t.” I dodge the grape she tosses at me. “But, you see? Baby brother has literally never come up in conversation before now.”

Anya stirs her oatmeal, still watching me with curiosity burning in her gaze. She clearly has a thousand things she wants to know, but isn’t quite sure how many questions she should bombard me with this early in the morning.

“You said you two aren’t close? I always thought being a twin would be like having a ready-made best friend.”

“Not so much.” My fingers clench into fists in my lap. Olivia thinks she wants to be me? Fine. She can have Evangeline Pratt’s history and everything that goes along with it. “We didn’t really grow up together. Gigi went to juvie when we were only like eleven and she was gone for like two years. After that, she was always getting into trouble. Our dad finally kicked her out for good when we were still juniors in high school. She went to live with our aunt in Detroit for like a month before running away. The girl is basically allergic to acting like a grown-up.”

I don’t see the disgust on her face that I’d been expecting. Instead, Anya looks like I just told her that my sister is a modern-day D. B. Cooper.

“She went to juvie?”

“More than once. Please don’t tell me you’re impressed.”

“That’s just crazy. I’ve never known anyone who went to juvie.” Anya leans closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did she ever tell you what it was like?”

I stir my yogurt, mixing in the cherry compote at the bottom. I’d never noticed before how much it reminds me of blood and gore. “Polyester uniforms and crappy food pretty much sums it up, I think.”

“And I thought you were a bad ass. Sounds like it runs in the family.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “If you say so.”

“Do you know why she decided to come here?”

I can’t exactly share any of my working theories with her. “No idea. Evangeline isn’t the type of girl to get into higher education. She barely graduated from high school.”

Anya cocks her head to the side, obviously confused by my annoyed tone. “Maybe she just wants to be close to you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but something catches her attention over my shoulder.

“Here she comes.” Anya sounds like she just saw a Bengal tiger walk across the room.

I force myself to look as people near us in the back crane their heads for a glimpse. Their gazes burn into my peripheral vision as their attention shifts between me and the girl who just strolled by. A guy behind her hurriedly follows with two trays balanced in her hands because Olivia must be too good to carry her own.

Olivia wears a pair of leather pants that are cut low on her hips matched with an off-the-shoulder cream sweater. Her outfit would look less out of place on a runway in Milan than it does in a college cafeteria.

“I love her hair,” Anya adds, almost like she’s talking to herself.

As much as I hate to admit it, my sister’s darkened curls do look amazing. The style is deceptively effortless, very beachy and I woke up like this. We have the same hair, straight but thick as a horse’s mane. The only way she got those curls was with an iron on the highest heat setting and half-a-can of holding spray. I know from experience that there is nothing effortless about that look.

My sister is trying very hard to impress without appearing to make any effort.

For a second, it seems like she is heading for our table. Then she diverts at the last minute and goes to sit somewhere else. Serena shoots me a triumphant glance as Olivia takes the seat next to her when she catches me watching them.

Anya cranes her head to keep watching and I feel my annoyance rise.

I set down my still full carton of yogurt and then push it away. “You can go sit with them, I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone.” She shoots one last look at Olivia’s table before settling back in her seat. “It’s a little weird that she wouldn’t come sit here with you.”

“I told you we’re not close.”

“Yeah, you did. I just didn’t realize that meant you guys basically ignore each other,” Anya muses, studying me. “She definitely knows how to pick a crowd. If they know you’re on the outs, Serena and Maisie will latch onto your sister just to spite you.”

I’ve had enough experience with mean girls to know that’s the truth. If not for my tenuous association with Havoc House, I’m sure Serena and Maisie would be even more overt in their dislike for me. I made them look bad and they won’t forget that anytime soon.

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