Page 59 of The Bully's Dare

I release Pearl from my death-grip hug. “What angel?” I ask.

Four looks pleased with himself. “I had lunch with the Kings the other day. I mentioned to him that you were waitlisted. Leonard said he’d look into it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but, well…”

“Well,” I echo. My heart is a balloon, deflating.

“It seems Leonard put in a good word for you after all,” Four says.

An angel on my shoulders…or a devil.

“Oh, isn’t that nice?” Pearl muses.

I feel like I swallowed a rock. My one bubble of hope, this precious moment that I could finally hold onto, now sullied.

The Kings giveth. The Kings taketh away.

I know what this is: a small taste of the power he welds. It’s like Donovan said—the only thing Mr. King wants is control.

Just like his son, Mr. King is persistent. I’m an inconvenience. A black mark on his son’s otherwise perfect record. And he’ll never stop until I give him exactly what he wants.

He’ll follow me. To college. Anywhere I go.

The knowledge is dizzying and I sway on my feet. This room is suddenly too tiny. Pearl and Four are too close. My very bones itch.

“I…have to pee,” I lie. “I’ll be right back.”

“The cupcake!” Pearl’s voice pitches.

I quickly blow out the candle, take a bite of the top, and shout, “it’s delicious!” before rushing upstairs to the bathroom.

I lock the door, close the toliet lid, and sit on it.

I have to make a choice. And I have to make it fast.

27

Kenzi

I can’t sleep. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Every now and then, I glance at the window. I think part of me keeps hoping Jason will climb through it again. That I’ll run off with him and Donovan to someplace where no one will ever find us. We could take Donovan’s boat. Leave and never come back.

Wishful thinking. But when I touch my belly, tracing the place where there’s a seed of something springing to life, I know that they’re just that. Wishes.

I climb out of bed. I shuffle down the hall to where Pearl and Four share a room. When I open the door a crack, I can see them in bed together, washed in nighttime blue. Four is snoring loudly. Pearl—somehow—is fast asleep in her nightie beside him.

Which, on closer inspection, probably has something to do with the earplugs in her ears, the eye mask covering her eyes, and the sound machine going beside her bed. Not to mention whatever sleeping aid she took with a wine chaser.

There’s a good chance a herd of elephants wouldn’t wake her up, but it’s worth a shot.

I stand about a foot from her bed, holding my arm awkwardly like an injured animal, and gently try: “Mom?”

Maybe it’s the rarely used M-O-M word that activates some primitive response in her brain, overriding all else. Immediately, she stirs, peeling up her sleep mask and peaking at me with one bleary eye.

“Kenzi? What’s wrong, darling?”

“It’s…um. I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

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