Page 118 of Good Girls Lie
There are screams. Faints. Stoicism. Tears. I stay in line, hands tucked under my arms to keep them from shaking, and shuffle my way forward. I am midway now. Four to go. Three. Two. And then, finally, it’s my turn.
Despite the vodka, despite whatever pill I’ve taken, when I raise my shaking left arm and let Becca force the flaming hot metal into my rib cage to the left of my breast, equal latitude to my heart, I want to scream. It is agonizing. It is the most pain I’ve ever experienced, willingly or otherwise. But I grit my teeth. Tears pour down my face. I deserve this torture. It is cleansing, this pain. So intense, so severe. There’s something about it I like.
And then it is over, though the sting remains. I am dipped in petroleum jelly and wrapped in some sort of plastic and sent to the end of the line, where Twin One is waiting with another dose of something to take away the pain, the cares, the worries. I down it gratefully.
When the last screams die out, Becca kicks dirt onto the fire, then faces us.
“Ivy Bound is based on integrity. You were chosen for your strength and your honor. You shine as an example of the best of Goode. The finest character, the strongest personalities, the kindest hearts. You have all been tested and found worthy. Welcome to the sisterhood.”
There is cheering, hugs. Falconers and Swallows merge into a mass of sweaty, drunk, stoned girls.
Swallows and Falconers no longer. The Mistress no longer.
We are one now.
We are sisters.
We are Ivy Bound.
I’ve done it.
Becca seeks me out and pulls me to her breast. I collapse against her with relief, my arms snaking around her waist. She is warm and smells like jasmine, and it’s just so nice to be held again by someone who loves me. She rubs a hand up and down my back, careful not to touch the brand, and it feels like a promise. I look up at her and she’s smiling at me, tenderness in her eyes. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and touch my lips lightly to hers.
I am on the dirt floor before I can blink.
“What the hell, Ash?”
I have forgotten where I am. I am higher than high and in pain and drunk, and despite all of these things, I realize I’ve done something dreadfully wrong.
Becca is standing over me with a look of sheer panic on her face, and all around me, I hear whispers, louder and louder, some amused, some horrified.
“Did she actually kiss her?”
“Oh, my God, lesbo alert.”
“I knew she had the hots for her.”
“Wait, is Becca gay?”
But it is Becca herself who breaks me in two. Her voice is shaking and the rage monster I saw in her room is back. “Get out.”
What have I done? Oh, my God, what have I done?
This isn’t getting drunk at a party and hooking up, which is totally acceptable. Or even messing around behind closed doors. This was a kiss of love. I’ve just outed Goode’s head girl in front of our entire secret society.
Apparently, there are still some taboos at Goode.
“Go!” she hisses at me.
“Where?”
“Back to the school. You are out.”
70
THE DOOR
The door to the Commons swings closed behind me and I run, crying, down the stairs to my room. The pain in my side doesn’t compare to the pain in my heart, seeing Becca look at me like that. Like I am some sort of freak. She started this. I didn’t seek her out. She was the one who encouraged me.
