Page 107 of The Glittering Edge

“Leave me alone!” Dylan says. Her eyes are unfocused as shetakes another swig from her flask. “God, you’re so fucking boring.” She stumbles away.

Penny runs after Dylan, following her through the front room and into the parking lot. Most of the cars have cleared out, and people are riding their bikes, getting ready for another game of bike polo.

“Hey, is this hippie car yours?” Clay Thornberg calls to Penny, pointing at the Prius, which is now in the middle of the bike polo court.

Penny ignores him, her eyes searching for Dylan. A hand wraps around her shoulder and whips her around. Suddenly, Clay is in her face.

“Did you hear me?” Clay says. “Move your fucking car.”

A horn beeps, and Penny’s heart sings as Mrs. Salazar’s old Honda Civic nearly runs Clay down. He jumps out of its path, slamming his hand on the hood. “The fuck are you doing?”

Naomi gives him a very elegant middle finger out the open window. “How about you back away before I let my foot off the brake?”

Clay hesitates, but he finally stalks away, muttering something aboutno fucking respect.

Penny wants to cry. “Nay.”

“Give me your keys, I’ll move your car in a second. Then you can tell me why we’re…” She looks around distastefully. “Well. Here.”

Penny hands her the keys. “Thank you. I have to find Dylan, and then I’ll be back.”

Penny takes off running before Naomi can ask questions. Alonso is doing laps on his bike, and Penny tries not to look at him, but it doesn’t work. He’s standing in the seat with his polo stick over one shoulder—and he’s glaring right at her.

This time, Penny glares back.

“Oh good,” comes Dylan’s voice. “You’re still here.”

Penny stops so quickly she almost runs into her. Dylan’s lipstick is smeared, and the shoulder of her shirt is hanging off.

“Let me take you home,” Penny says.

“Not yet. I have a present for you.” Dylan turns to the crowd andshouts, “Hey, everyone! Did you know Penny is trying to fuck my boyfriend?”

All the chatter around them dies.

Penny’s mouth is suddenly dry. “I told you, there’s nothing going on!”

“Dylan, you’re drunk!” someone shouts, and the crowd laughs. Like lightning, phones appear in hands, and they’re directed at Penny and Dylan. Royce is back, and he’s recording them—but the phone has an Idlewood Central cheerleading sticker on the back. Because it’s not his phone; it’s Dylan’s.

Penny has walked into a trap.

Dylan takes a step closer, forcing Penny to back up. Naomi appears, putting herself between them. “You need to sit down, Dylan. You’ve got vomit on your shirt.”

Dylan smiles, and a second later, someone collides with Naomi and sweeps her away in a blur. It’s Clay Thornberg. His thick arms are wrapped around Naomi’s middle as he carries her off, Naomi kicking and screaming the whole time.

“What thefuck?” Naomi screams.

“Shut up,” Clay says into her ear.

“Put her down!” Penny shouts. Her blood is burning white hot in her veins, and she moves to grab Clay’s arms and pry them from Naomi. Before she gets the chance, Dylan grabs Penny by the hair and wrests her backward so that their faces are inches apart. The pain is sharp, and Penny grabs Dylan’s wrist.

“Let go,” Penny says, her voice cracking.

“Everyone thought you were so innocent,” Dylan says, an edge to her voice as she angles Penny’s face toward Royce. “You’re live?”

“Yep,” he says.

Dylan smiles at the camera. “In case any of you were wondering, this is what happens to sluts who try to steal my boyfriend.”

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