Page 14 of Broken Princess

I’m standing against the wall scrolling through my phone, looking for a picture I took last week that I want to send to Tiff, Marina and Robbie. It’s almost a postcard worthy snap of the sun reflecting off the trees, as a perfectly arcing rainbow hangs overhead after a storm. The colors were so crisp and bright; I imagined I could ride it from here to a pot of gold, and use that money to pay for the students at this school to get a personality that’s not shaped around doing everything the beautiful people say.

Logan screwing me over may have been the only thing that kept me from succumbing to the hive mind. I guess for that; I owe him a thanks. Not that I’m giving it to him. He can kiss my entire ass before I do that.

A wayward image of him kissing me and darting his tongue between my ass cheeks runs streaking like a football fan through my mind. I close my eyes, fighting the shiver of desire tap dancing across my spine. When I open them again, Logan’s standing a few feet away, looking at me. Those incredible moss colored eyes slide over me, and I feel like he’s touching me. Undressing me.

I hold his gaze, letting him know I’ve survived his betrayal. His latest fling shows up, pulling on his arm and I continue to watch, knowing he’ll be walking away any second now. Except, he doesn’t. He walks towards me. My mind tells me to run. To not let him get anywhere near me, but my feet stay rooted in place. Our gazes lock together and an unseen thread stretches across the distance, pulling us towards each other, like a magnet.

The door to the classroom opens and students step into the hall between us, breaking the spell. I take advantage of the melee and slip into the room. I’m already in my seat by the time he gets through the door with Amber glued to his side.

My body’s buzzing and my neck feels hot. I hate him, so why is he affecting me like this? When I look up I see he’s glaring at me, and it’s like being doused with ice water. There. Problem fixed.

Doors slam, and the boisterous voices of yelling undergrads fill the halls. It’s Saturday night at the dorms, but things will quiet down once everyone leaves for the party. I’ve talked myself in and out of this decision all week. That staring contest in the hallway with Logan unnerved me. But I can’t let him have that kind of power over me. All effective researchers observe their subjects in their natural habitats. The BP’s habitats are parties and country clubs. I have access to the former, and I’m working on a way to get an invite to the latter.

“Tell me you’re not reading.” I say, pulling the book from Kassidy’s hands.

“Okay, I’m not reading. I’m knitting a sweater.”

“Well, put that on hold too, because we’re going out.”

“Oh yeah, where to at this time of night? The library and cafe are closed.”

“The party.”

My announcement catches her off guard. She’s looking at me like I’ve just consumed a whole pan of weed brownies and I’m hallucinating ghost face coming after me. “You want to go to the welcome back party?”

“I heard some students talking about it, and it sounds like it could be fun.”

“Yeah, only it’s hosted by the very people you made me promise to keep you away from this semester. As your friend and roommate, I’m honoring my oath.”

She’s right. Over the break I made her promise, pinky promise and double swear to keep me away from these types of parties. Now I need her to undo that and be my backup.

“You’re wonderful for that. But, this time it’s my suggestion, so whatever happens is all on me.”

She squints, giving me a serious once over. Kassidy hasn’t been out since the semester started; choosing to sit home with me in solidarity, but I know it’s gotta be killing her.

The welcome back party is supposed to be a small get together. Small meaning they’ve only sent invites to a couple hundred of the hottest students and let word of mouth spread to everyone else. At some point they won’t let anyone else in.

“Jordy, this is invite only and we both know you’re not on the list.” She shakes her head. “Who did you say told you about it?”

“Chaz from my game theory class.” That’s true, but I leave out the part about receiving an anonymous tag to attend on my Prospectus profile on Wednesday. If I tell her, she’ll think it’s a setup and definitely refuse to go. I’m not saying it’snota setup. Knowing these people, it probably is. Even without the invite, I was planning to show up at the party, but there’s strength in numbers and all that. If I’m going to learn anything about my enemies, I have to stop hiding from them.

“Are you sure? I don’t know what kind of new games they’ve come up with for this semester, but I do know they won’t be good. And if they zero in on you… well, they have a lot of shit to choose from.” She says, reminding me that the bullying can get worse. So much worse.

I hate that they have this power over my life. I need to take it back. “I’m sure. Now will you please get dressed.”

An hour later we arrive at the location the pin drop navigated us to. It’s always a bit of a scavenger hunt trying to find these parties when they’re off campus. Sometimes I think they keep us guessing because the organizer doesn’t have a set venue until the last minute. Or maybe they’re overly cautious, and afraid someone will notify the police or parents ahead of time and spoil the fun. Ethical and morality infractions are plentiful with all the underage drinking, and pill popping going on.

I wonder how their parents deal with knowing their kids need to go to rehab right after graduation. Or do they let the problem linger until it causes a scandal? I roll my eyes at myself. What scandal? I was involved in one andnothinghappened.To them. Me, I’m likely blacklisted from every gallery in NY, but hey, at least I get to continue my education for free.

Kassidy clings to my side, still uncomfortable with my decision to show up here tonight, and truthfully I’m grateful for her support and protection. My heart is doing a mambo in my chest and my palms are sweaty. Despite the bravado I spoke with, I have a lot of reservations about coming here, too.

Kass leaves me by the fireplace and goes off to grab us drinks. Not that I plan to drink anything, but I need to put something in my hands so I don’t wring them back and forth or gnaw on my nails. I’m in a room full of people, and just like on campus, I’m utterly alone and completely ignored. I’m about to admit this was a bad idea when a guy approaches me, a tentative smile on his face.

“Dixon, right?”

“That’s right. We have Interpersonal Communications together and we had English Lit, last semester.”

“I remember. How’s it going?” I point to the crowd. “Or more importantly, are you having a good time?”

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