Page 11 of I Fing Dare You

She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not the book nerd here.”

Sophia aces Lit, like everything else, but she hates every second of it.

“The teacher has a panty-melting voice, and he’s not uneasy on the eyes.”

That gets her attention. “Wait, you think he’s hot?”

Yeah, no. “I didn’t exactly say hot.”

“Not uneasy on the eyes,” she quotes, imitating my voice, a tad lower than hers. “That’s basically a love declaration from you.”

I’m not that bad; I’ve just never shown an interest in guys here because my bank balance makes me unappealing. I have eyes, I can look. Most of our students are pretty, of course—they’re rich and that’s almost the same thing. If their daddy was ugly, he had a wallet big enough to afford to include pretty in his gene pool, and if all else failed, the kids went under the scalpel before they could walk. But I don’t see the point in giving them much of my attention when at best I’ll only be some conquest they can screw and forget the next day. Why waste my energy?

Seniors eat first, so the cafeteria is rather empty; juniors and sophomores will walk in after half an hour, and freshman in an hour.

Sophia and I grab our trays and make our way to collect our food. There’s almost no line, for the first time I can remember.

“Curry,” she growls. “You’d think they’d start the year without the torture.”

Sophia claims she likes “real curry.” She’d been to India three times, and the chef her parents employed was well versed in international cuisine, so she had little patience for our bland facsimile.

I wasn’t that fussy.

The cafeteria always offered one main meal as well as a half-dozen alternatives—including sandwiches for anyone in a rush, vegetarian, vegan, hallal, kosher, nut-free, and gluten-free options—but most of the staff’s effort went toward the principal dish. I didn’t hesitate to pick up a bowl of fragrant curry on rice; my standards are far less exacting than Sophia’s. I take a water and a yogurt, passing on the starter. Though she pouts, she picks the same combo, and we quietly walk to our usual table.

Our friends scoot over to make room for us, and we sit down.

I say "friends" in the broad sense of the term. We chat at lunch, and we’re civil outside of it, but I’ve kept in touch with none of them except Sophia this summer. We don’t have much in common, other than the fact that we’re all at the bottom of the hierarchy of Cross for one reason or another. I get the feeling that most of us are academically inclined, and perhaps on the nerdier side, but I don’t know them all that well.

"Hey, twinset," Elisa Martin says with an easy smile. She waves, and I can't believe how tanned she is. Her skin is naturally darker, but now it's stunningly black. "We were just talking about the summer. Did you go anywhere nice?"

“Oh, no, tell us whereyouwent first!” I demur, hoping to keep the conversation away from me because I didn’t go anywhere at all this summer except to work. “I’ve never seen you this tanned.”

“Egypt, to my mother’s family, then Namibia. We went to see lions. It was amazing,” she gushes.

The destination choice sounds incredible, but that’s also why she’s at our table: most of the school would have gone to the Caribbean or Europe.

Alexander Burdon leans forward. He’s a chess wiz—so good he’s won world championships. No one in this school wants to play him—so there’s no need to explain why he’s with us. “I went to China,” he says, “Then Japan and Australia. Chess competitions.”

“Sophia?” I say, turning to my best friend, still keeping the conversation well away from me. “Tell them all about Europe.”

Her eyes brighten. “It was incredible. Would’ve been more so without my sister, but no one let me push her off the Tour Eiffel.”

“What is the point in having a tower that tall if not getting rid of evil siblings?”

I used to think I wanted a sibling, but I’m happy as an only, all things considered. If there was even the sliver of a chance they might turn out to be anything like Brooke, I’ll pass. Besides, Lucas might as well be my brother. We grew up together, spending a good five days out of seven in the same house, taken care of by the same nanny when Mom was busy. It wasn't until here that we drifted apart, because he’s hot, popular, rich, and I’m me. Still, we hang out occasionally.

I haven’t seen him at all today. I probably won’t. He hardly ever shows up on campus. He almost has enough credits to graduate early, and his attendance requirements are flexible, taking into account his internship at his father’s PR firm. Part of me wonders if he would have enrolled at all this year if not for me.

I could have used him today, after my run-in with the four assholes. He doesn’t have quite as much clout as they do here, but he’s a shield I could brandish to soften whatever blow might be coming…

At least until he disappeared again.

I’m a terrible friend. I completely zoned out as Sophia talked. I've heard all of this before, but that’s no excuse.

“You’re Willow, right?” Sophia asks a redhead at the other end of the table. Her stunning wavy hair falls a few inches past her shoulders. Her eyes are sky blue, and freckles dot all over her face; I’d bet that the red’s natural. “We have Computer Sciences together."

The girl nods. I think she’s new, because I can’t place her face, but our school is big, with over three hundred students per grade, and I’m not exactly a social animal. Still, she stands out. I’d like to think I would have noticed.

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