Page 217 of Filthy Elites

Usually, I would tell Mom I’m leaving. Actually, in the past when I actually did normal teenage things, I guess I would haveasked.

It doesn’t feel like I need to anymore.

Thinking things like that can only possibly make me sad, so I shove it down, slide my purse strap on my shoulder, and quietly make my way out of the house.

___

Chase Darington’smansion is something straight off the pages of a glossy magazine. It’s in an elite, hillside neighborhood where a lot of the rich kids from my school live. They have the beach in their backyard, but homes designed with lavish pools and so many expensive playthings, they’re hardly impressed by what nature has to offer.

A wave of foreboding creeps down my spine as I park in one of the empty spots along the long, winding driveway that curves around the house. The place is already packed full of cars. There must be a ton of people here.

I hope I left enough room in case the people in front of me need to leave.

Not that I’m likely to stay longer than anybody else. I literally just want to pop in, talk to Janie for a bit, and then go home. I don’t enjoy hanging out with these people at school, and I feel like I don’t belong here already.

I don’t even know where to go. I make my way to the front door, but when I knock, nobody answers.

I can hear music blasting from inside the house, so they probably can’t hear me.

There’s more ruckus around back. A girl shrieks, some guys laugh, and I hear a huge splash from the pool.

More music plays in the backyard. I guess since people are obviously back there and no one is coming to the door, I can just walk around back.

I feel awkward about it, and the feeling intensifies when I round the corner and find a couple making out with half of their clothes off in a private cabana.

“Whoa,” I murmur, quickly turning my head to look away. I almost apologize, but I don’t think they even noticed me.

Not far from there is another piece of furniture with two guys sprawled on it, one glancing over at the couple in the cabana with a smirk on his face.

“Hey, beautiful, where are you going?” asks a guy from the swim team as I walk past him. “Not feeling chatty, huh?”

Ew.

There are too many people here. I’m not fond of crowds, and I don’t see Janie back here.

I’ve never actually been to one, but this isn’t what I expected of a high school party. I pass another couple making out by the pool, then move out of the way as I’m nearly splashed by a guy and girl flirting and playing grab-ass in the sloshing water.

“Hey, you made it!”

I turn in the direction of the voice and see Mallory coming toward me wearing a smile and a peach-colored bikini, but curiously lacking her entourage again. I think I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen Mallory without Anae and Shawna in a social setting, and now she’s approached me alone twice.

I offer back a smile. “Yeah, here I am.”

“Great.” Her smile widens. She turns and gestures to a wet bar area. “You can grab a drink over there. We’ve got everything. Here, I’ll take your purse and put it in the coatroom.”

My grip on my purse tightens. “Oh, that’s all right. I’ll keep it on me.”

Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “It’ll be kinda hard to swim and keep track of it. Not like any of the poor people are here tonight, but—” She freezes, realizing what she said.

I offer a thin smile. “It’s fine. I’m not going in the pool. I have to keep my phone close in case my mom needs me, so… thanks, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

Déjà vu hits as she adopts the look of a lost robot. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“All right,” Mallory says, walking toward the bar and clearly expecting me to follow.

I do because I expect she won’t go away until I satisfy her, and I want to go find Janie. Maybe she’s inside.

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