Page 59 of Wicked Games

“See you tomorrow,” Riley calls.

“Bye,” Margo answers.

I sit on her bed and pick up the sleep shirt she left on her pillow. She might hate me, but I can’t stay away.

I’ve tried—but life is so much more exciting with Margo around.

Chapter 15

Margo

Riley and I have been plotting. Not just about Caleb, but also about Savannah and Amelie. We’re operating under the assumption that both of them are the mystery texter, but it could be a lot of people.

Either way, the idea of upsetting the hierarchy at Emery-Rose is too tempting.

It’s not like either ofuswant to take over the queen bee position. We just want Amelie to suffer a little… and Sav, too.

“We can’t go easy on them,” I tell Riley. “Total annihilation.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Riley asks.

There are so many options. Rumors, public embarrassment, somehow turning them into social pariahs?

Imagine.

“What throne do the king and queen sit on?”

Something Amelie, Sav, and I had in common? We always knew how to push the buttons of every single person around us. It was a trait we first saw in Amelie in first grade, and later, it’s what made me a bad foster kid. Because even after I was taken from my home, I didn’t know how to stop that side of me.

After my third home, I learned.

“We go after them where it counts,” I say. “Friends. Sports.”

Riley groans. “You’re talking… like… destroy them. And what are they going to do in return?”

“Are they going to do anything worse than what they’ve already done?”

She just looks at me, and it conveys her thoughts.

I grimace. “Okay, so any takedown can’t directly involve us, unless we want to deal with their wrath. You make a good point.”

“Maybe we should just… wait.” She picks at a loose thread on her pants. “The worse we can be is rash.”

My phone buzzes.

Lenora

Robert had to work late, so I’m picking up dinner. Will be home around eight! Sorry for the L8 dinner!

I snort at her shorthand.

Me

Okay, take your time.

Riley has to go home, so we say goodbye at the door. I close and lock it, then turn my attention to the kitchen. I put the empty glasses in the dishwasher and run a wet rag across the island. Leaving a space how I found it was always one way of staying out of trouble.

Lenora gets home, and I help her unpack the bags of Chinese food. My stomach cramps, suddenly reminding me that besides the chips Riley and I had when we got here after school, I’ve had nothing since lunch.

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