Page 18 of Baby Duke

"Yep," I pop the p, mentally thanking East for not giving me the old pity party.

"What happened after that?" she asks, steering me into the girls' toilets.

I sigh. "I pretty much raised myself from then on out. Lived on the streets for a while in my pre-teens, started doing drugs, left school, and spent time in juvie."

We shut ourselves into separate stalls, doing our business. When we get out and wash our hands, East stares thoughtfully at me through the mirror.

"What's playing on your mind, girl?"

"You know, your life definitely sucked-" I snort at that "-and you will probably think me apoor little rich girlfor saying this, but my life hasn't been all sunshine and daisies either. Growing up in an environment controlled by misogynistic men sucks. I have had no free will from the moment mom pushed me out. From silly little things like 'don't play in the mud with the boys' to staying silent at the dinner table, I can almost envy your life."

I sigh. "I get it. Having a voice has always been natural for me. I don't envy you your life, Mini Duke."

It is East's turn to snort, her mouth curling in an unamused smirk.

"I'm not a Duke," she says. "Nor would I ever want to be one. You do recall the part about misogynistic men, right? The moment I came out with a vagina instead of a penis, my life was set. Arm candy and a silent wife. That is all I have to look forward to."

"Bullshit!" I scowl. "Don't let those fuckers own you!"

"It's not as simple as it sounds."

"Fucking men! They act all tough, but at the end of the day, they would all fall to their knees for tits and pussy."

East laughs, a real one this time. "Who runs the world?" she sings.

"Mother fucking girls, that's who!"

The third and fourth periods are repeats of the first, minus the whole arriving late drama. The whole Weiner name-calling can get fucked, and anyone who calls me so can eat a bag of dicks. I was let off with a warning for that comment.

East meets me in the hall for lunch, and we follow the crowd to the cafeteria.

"The fuck is this?" I stare bug-eyed at the giant food hall we have just entered.

East grins. "The cafeteria," she says, like it is the most natural thing in the world.

"No, this is a fucking food court at a 5-star shopping mall!"

One side of the room is lined with different kiosks for more cuisines than I could eat in a week. Chinese, Indian, Mexican, and even a fried chicken joint. From there, spreading to an outdoor veranda and gardens are seats, booths, and lounges where students are gathered in their cliques. I run my gaze over the groups of rich kids, all dressed in their little uniforms with perfect postures and not a hair out of place.

I bite my lip as I contemplate the fact that I willneverfit in with this crowd. Then my eyes lock onhim.Because, of course, he is here, and of course, his eyes are already locked on me. Or more specifically, the lip I have tucked between my teeth. Letting it go, I give him a smirk.That's right, Baby Duke, fall to your knees for your new Queen.

His eyes flare as they dart away from my mouth to meet my own. Poor baby is not happy that he got caught.

A groan comes from my side, along with a tug at my sleeve.

"Once you are done eye-fucking my brother, could you choose what you want to eat? And please do not choose a fucking salad! I would rather eat my left tit than fall back in line with all the girls. At least with you here, I have someone to lean on when I get judged for eating-" she mock gasps "-a chicken nugget!"

I choose to ignore her comment about West, but only because I am distracted by the ridiculously long line at the salad bar. I am mentally taking stock, but sure as shit, not a single girl is eating or standing in line for anything but a salad.

"The fuck? Is this another one of those daddy rules you were going on about? Rich girls only eat rabbit food?"

"Gotta stay thin for our future husbands," East replies.

"Fuck that!" I say, dragging East to the front of the line at the fried chicken kiosk. "Give me two large burger boxes and a family popcorn chicken to share."

The server looks taken aback by my demands but types out our order.

"Account name, miss?" he asks.

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