Page 70 of Jerk
“Wh—this is from the Spring Collection.” My brows furrow as my hand falls to the hem of my sweater. Shaking my head, I ignore the tingling in my chest. “Krystal, where’s Rye?
“Don’t be so thirsty when the more pressing matter is where your sense of style went.” She looks down at me over small oval shades. “My mother tells me leather is in this season. I figured you, of all people, got the memo.” Her finger falls to my skirt, tugging on it. “But you’re too soft for that, aren’t you?”
My mouth tightens, a crowd forming around us. My eyes dart around for her brother, but I still don’t see him. I’m not sure what’s up, but I need answers. “Speaking of memo, are we going to talk about what happened when you showed up to Ember’s?—”
“Actually, girls!” Krystal looks beyond me to my posse still in the booth at the back of the room. “My mother is opening her showroom for her new collection tomorrow.” That gets Chloe, Marisol and Zurie off their seats quicker than free mimosas. “We’ll have first dibs on the new collection once I get us in.” Chloe squeals. “Alex Carter and James Holmes will also be there.” Two of Hollywood’s hottest new actors. “You don’t want to miss it.”
“Count us in,” Marisol says.
My hand comes to my hip, my eyes narrowing at Krystal’s. She’s making a play. “I’m sorry, Krystal, we already have plans.”
“Can't we go after?” Chloe asks.
Krystal shrugs like she wasn’t just covered in blood a couple of days ago. “Suit yourself. By the time the show ends, these items will only be off the rack, just like what Hannah’s wearing. But I guess that leaves me more time with Alex and James.”
“We’re in!” Marisol yells.
“Marisol!” I whip around to what I thought wasmyposse.
“What?” Marisol’s hands slap against her mini dress as if I’m the one being unreasonable. “Will James and Alex be shopping with us?”
“No, but wejustconfirmed.”
“Plans change,” Krystal responds.
“What are you doing?” This is a clear attack on my throne, but I’m confused, frozen in remembering the blood on her hands. The fear in her eyes. The shake in her voice. That’s all gone now.
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Hannah, but I have to go.” She yawns, tapping on the screen of her phone. “I have to meet James at his signing in an hour.” And with that, she walks away, but not without brushing my shoulder in the process. A classic move that even I’m guilty of.
My heart sinks when I look around to see everyone watching that display of power. She knows what she’s doing. She’s trained by the best.
“Hey, Krystal, wait up!” Marisol follows behind Krystal’s entourage. And one by one, so do Chloe and Zurie. When I look at Chloe, there's an apology in her eyes as I’m left standing alone.
Again.
My head throbswhen I arrive on campus later in the week, my Dior sunglasses covering the bags under my eyes. Even my concealer can’t hide how tired I am. A girl needs her beauty sleep to keep her skin glowing, and lately, I haven’t had any.
With Krystal back on campus, Saint Bons feels less like my domain and more like my war zone. Instead of bombs and missiles, we use gossip, whispers and glares. And I’m getting blitzed.
Krystal hasn’t said anything about that night, almost a week ago. No explanation for the blood on her hands, no mention of what happened before she appeared at the party. Seeing her at Sun House was just the beginning.
She’s not backing down, pulling similar stunts. She's stolen my girls from dinners. She's won debates against me in classes I didn’t know she was in, and she strolls through campus like she isn’t a copy of the royal blueprint I created.
Campus loves gossip, and she’s using that to her advantage, too. The news is out that Andrew Rowen is missing. Turns out, their father’s disappearance from his annual golf tournament is enough to cause alarm. As a result, Krystal made herself a martyr. The girl with the missing father who wants better for our campus with wellness circles and tea-making classes, and everyone’s eating it up. All while I try to stay relevant.
I thought we were a team. I thought the Rowens and I were in this together. Glancing at the text thread with Rye for the gazillionth time makes my stomach spin.
Hannah: please answer me
My last message to Rye. Still no word. No texts. No calls. Not even a ‘fuck off.’
I haven’t seen Mac or Gray since that night either. When I asked Ember if she's heard anything, she hesitated before answering a quick and simple, “No.”
My phone vibrates in my hand as I exit the school parking lot, walking towards the arts building.
Ember: Don’t take the bait
She hasn't said much lately, and right now, I have no idea what she's talking about. I'm too tired to care. Too exhausted to respond. I just want to get through this day while ensuring my GPA doesn't slip any further.
