Page 29 of Broken Princess

“But the win was more important. I get it.” Now that I’m studying them, learning from Pepper and taking game theory. I totally get it. That doesn’t mean I’m not pissed, but I’m starting to understand how they think. “Logan, I knew it was a mistake to get involved with you, but I ignored my gut.”

“Jordanna…”

“It’s true, Logan. You told me from the beginning that I was an outsider and I didn’t belong here at your precious school. You were right then, and you’re right now. We’re from two different worlds. It was fucked up how you went about proving it, but, I’m glad the blinders are off. You’re being halfway decent by attempting to apologize, and maybe if you hadn’t of been so good at fooling me the last time, I’d believe that you miss spending time with me. But none of that matters now, because nothing between us would ever work. Not even being friends. I’m finally admitting us not interactingwas and still isthe right decision.”

He moves closer. Slowly, as if walking up on a wild stallion. “How can this ache I feel be right? Wewerefriends, Jordy. That part was real, and I’m being as honest as I can be, when I say I miss hanging out with you.”

He’s a master manipulator, and even though his face looks as full of pain as mine does when no one’s around. I still don’t trust it. Fingering the tips of my streaked hair, his voice dips when he says, “I wish I could spend some time with you.”

I stand on tiptoe, brushing my lips against his. I don’t even have time to settle into the kiss, before he’s pulling back abruptly, pushing me away.

“Logan?”

"I'm sorry, Jordy, I shouldn't have done that."

"I kissed you."

“I know, and it was a mistake. You’re right. We aren’t friends and this gift won’t change that.” He walks back across the floor, shaking his head.

There it is. The truth in the lie. His sudden bout of conscious was just another attempt to con me. With that revelation I walk out of the studio, closing the door behind me with a loud thud. All sorts of thoughts are swirling through my head as I walk towards the elevator. Pepper would ask, ‘What did I learn today?’ I replay every detail I can remember, of my last few interactions with Logan, over in my head.

The games are still going. That much was obvious at the bell tower, and Loganthinkshe has the upper hand. But that night at the back to school party showed me Pepper was right. Logan’s rules aren’t absolute or followed by everyone without question. Therewerepeople there who were willing to talk to me. It just took making an effort to show them I didn’t care about whatever rule the BP’s have laid down.

Next I evaluate that little speech he just gave aboutmissingme. It’s laughable that he thinks it worked. It’s obvious he wants to continue toying with me. Does he think I’m too stupid to notice? Or am I supposed to be so heartsick over our breakup that I’m romanticizing everything, convincing myself that deep down he really cared about me? I was blind to it all before, but now, I see him. Therealhim, for the conniving, depraved bastard, he is.

I crack my neck and roll my shoulders loosening the tension in my body as the elevator descends. I wonder what the prize and stakes are this semester. My Uber is waiting for me in front of the building. I slide into the backseat turning over possibilities in my head. Anything is possible, but it won’t matter, because this time, I’m playing a game of my own.

Eleven

Jordanna

Pepper’s been on vacation for the last two weeks and I didn’t realize until this minute how much I’ve missed our talks.

“How was your week?” She asks, just like she has every other time I’ve come to visit.

“It didn’t suck as badly as the last one, but still not as good as my worst one at Carryville.”

While I’m setting up the chessboard, she hands me a gleaming silver compact. I’m talking polished so good I can see myself in it. It’s the type of silver you see encased behind glass with the crown jewels. Obnoxiously shiny of the silver spoon variety.

“Pepper, what’s this?”

“It’s a present. I thought that’d be obvious.”

“I can’t accept this.”

“Why not? It’s been sitting around here for years. Passing hands from one family member to the next, for generations, and I can’t think of anyone else who is more deserving of it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

That’s not a good enough reason to give it to me, but that’s not what I was asking either. “No, I mean, why does it just get passed around?”

“Oh, that? I believe someone in our family picked it up at an estate sale generations ago. I’d meant to research it’s history but honestly, I haven’t the time. It’s even got a little inscription so I figured it must have meant a lot to the original owners.” She tilts the lid open so I can read it.

“I’m afraid I won’t be any help, then. I don’t read Italian.”

“No, but you’re a journalist, are you not?,” she asks snapping the clam shaped case closed, and puts it back in my hand. “You’re a resourceful young woman, and I figured perhaps you could look into its origins for me. Either way, the item is yours.”

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