Page 37 of The Pawn

"Are you stupid, white trash?" I whirl at the sound of the voice right behind me, and stare down into Piper Lyon's perfect, cruel face. "We can't get out until you do."

"Sorry," I answer reflexively, immediately hating myself for apologizing. "I didn't know anyone was behind me on the bus."

She rolls her eyes. Beside her, Georgia lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Just be patient, Pipey. Brenna over here is slow—and I don't mean physically."

Raising my eyebrows, I wonder aloud, "What's next, the R word? Not that I think you wouldn't stoop to those lows, Georgia, but you might want to bring your insults into the 21st century. Some of us are a little evolved."

"Is that what you call threatening to steal my boyfriend?" She lifts her chin and smirks at me. "Yeah, that's right—Tanner and I have made it official. So don't you even try, you dirty whore. We both know you don't have the skills to take him."

I'd ask her how I can both be a whore and unskilled at sex, but the bus is nearly empty now, and I've got to move fast if I want to make my plan work.

"See you later, Georgia. Good luck using sex to hold onto the boy you love. I'm surethatwill work long term."

As she scowls and Piper scoffs, I hurry down the aisle, taking the steps off the bus two at a time. Just at the right moment too—Holly is craning her neck around, looking for us, and Sasha is standing next to her. I quickly join them, and we wait for Piper and Georgia together.

"Those two," Holly mutters, sounding peeved. "I swear, they only work hard when I separate them. Otherwise it's like getting molasses to flow through a coffee straw."

Sasha adds, "I'll bet you fifty bucks that they'll only climb the indoor rock climbing wall, and that at least three boys will loiter underneath them trying to look up their shorts."

"You're on."

I boggle at the size of their bet. Fifty dollars isn't the kind of thing you waste on something that dumb, at least not in the world I'm from. But Sasha said it casually, like she was talking about the amount of money you might pick up off the ground. I guess in her case she was.

"Alright!" Mrs. Reynolds, who's our administrative escort for today, gathers us together. "There were forty of you on that bus on the way here, and I expect forty on the way out, too. You'll get to warm up inside, try out at least two outdoor rock climbing courses, and then we have to bring the bus back to pick up the next group."

The second group of the day will be hosted by the Hadleys, the boys' dorm to our girls' dorm. Altogether, only about half the first year students are attending rock climbing today. Holly told me it's less popular than the more social events, because, and I quote, "Half of our fellow classmate have zero interest in getting their hands dirty, which is why they don't know how to plunge a toilet. So expect to get a lot of complaints about that in the coming weeks. Mr. Sanchez deals with the plumbing issues, but they always come to us first."

She knows a lot about being a Rosalind even though she's only been one as long as me, not counting orientation week. That's the advantage of being a legacy with an older sister who went here, though—Holly could graduate this place in her sleep.

As we file into the main building to get ready for the climb, she inevitably wanders close to Cole, and I find myself slowing down to avoid being near him. The secret hidden in the bottom of my bag feels like it might burn through at any moment and reveal itself. I can't stop looking at the back of Cole's head, watching him, wondering what the rest of the semester has in store for me.

"Fancy seeing you here." I nearly trip and stumble as Lukas DuPont himself appears at my side, staring down at me as we enter the building and wait for Mrs. Reynolds to check us in. "It's been a while. Brenna, was it?"

I frown up at him. "I know you know my name. I'm not sure what you and Cole are planning today, but I'm not falling for it."

His blond brows jump up towards his hairline. "Planning?"

"I'm on his list." Stiffening, I point out, "I'm not stupid. You're one of his best friends, and an Elite besides. Whatever you've got hiding beneath that European accent, you don't fool me."

A little chuckle escapes his mouth, but after a moment he realizes I'm serious, and it turns into a puzzled frown. "I'm not planning anything."

"Cole put me on his list," I point out. "I know he told you...everything."

There's a list of unsaid things beneath that one word: my real name, what Cole did to me at art class, his plans for me, and even his temporary ceasefire for the sake of Holly's continuing goodwill. That ceasefire ended yesterday, and I have no doubt he's got something planned. All he'll have to do is lead Holly away so she doesn't see anything and have Lukas mess with me instead.

"He's never mentioned you," Lukas says, sounding confused. He's a good actor, I'll give him that. "As far as his list goes, I don't really look on social media for those things. It's not what I'm into."

I glower in his direction. "I don't believe you." For one thing, I know he has social media. Sure, he hasn't posted in months, but he has it—I know that from my research. I open my mouth to point that out, only to stop; I don't want to make him suspicious. "Anyway, just stay away from me. I have enough on my plate dealing with Cole."

He makes a face. "Fine, whatever. I'll find out what's going on from him."

Then he wanders off, somehow all on his own in a group of his peers despite the fact that he's one of the Elites. He's a strange one, that Lukas Dupont; I'll give him that. I'm just glad Tanner and Blake aren't here for me to deal with—I'm not looking forward to facing the latter, and I'm not ready to face the former, especially with Georgia around.

Mrs. Reynolds lets us know that she's signed us in and it's time to take our locker assignments so we can put our stuff in the changing rooms. I drift towards the back of the line, eyes on Cole, keeping a watch for Lukas. Eventually, I let myself relax, and daydream about what it's going to feel like to take the Elites down.

I'm one of the last to get the locker key from Mrs. Reynolds. It's simple enough to drop the key as she hands it to me, then peer at her clipboard as I take an extra long time picking it up off the ground. It's not hard to find Cole's name and locker number on the boys' side of the locker rooms: 425.

My heart is in my throat as I head to my own locker and change out of my Rosalind shirt into the beaten-up tank top I brought to climb in. Holly and Sasha are gabbing about all the hand holds they'll practice and how great their calves would look if they did this every day as exercise. I can't pay attention, and I find myself glad that Chrissy and Tricia wound up in the group of the day, because I'm in no mood for conversation.

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