“I’m not judging you. I promise.” She shakes her head so fast you can feel the breeze she’s stirring up in an effort to convince me. “I swear, I only want to spare you any heartache.”
“Heartache?” I rise to leave. Clearly this isn’t going in the sisterly direction I was hoping.
“Yes.” She pulls me back down. “And I don’t want you to”—you can practically see her racking her brains for what comes next—“get a reputation. You know how those frat boys can be.”
“No, I don’t.” I yank my wrist free from her grasp. “Look, I’m sorry I ever said anything. I really thought you’d be a little more supportive.”
“I am supportive!” Her eyes bulge like eggs, and she looks anything but what she professes to be. “I’m telling you. Please reconsider. I’d hate for people to think you’re easy just because you fall into bed with the first frat boy you meet.”
My jaw unhinges at her unnecessary barb. “Is that what they said about you?” I couldn’t help it. It just came out. My rage boiled over, and now my hurtful words linger between us. I know all about Daisy’s pole dancing days, her stint with the Senator—everybody does.
Her cheeks slap a crisp shade of apple red, and not one part of me regrets my remark.
“Just do me a favor and don’t say anything. I’d appreciate that.” I turn to leave as she shuffles beside me.
“Don’t do this, Ava.” There’s something dire in her eyes as if signaling for danger. “Ask him questions—dig a little deeper.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say as I make a dash for it. Technically, I won’t be talking to her later, more like avoiding her later.
“Wait, for God’s sake, before you make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life!” she shouts like a madwoman.
What the hell has gotten into her?
The elevator yawns open, and I don’t hesitate jumping in. I jam my thumb against the button until the doors entomb me in its petrified silence.
A chill runs up my spine. That was not the Daisy Pembrooke I know and love. That was not at all the girl I’ve been confiding in for weeks.
What the heck just happened?
By the timeWednesday afternoon rolls around, Whitney Briggs is already feeling the holiday effects of its dwindling student population. Harper took off an hour ago. Lucky went straight to the grocery store after her last class and is texting me hilarious shots of her Costco adventure. Every picture has a warzone appeal, from the apocalyptic sea of cars in the parking lot to the disorderly chaos that mimics food lines circa 1925.
My phone pulses in my hand once again, only it’s not Lucky amidst her turkey trot. It’s my boyfriend, Grant. Just the thought of having Grant as my anything expels a sigh from the deepest part of my soul.
You up for dinner? 7:00 okay?
Dinner!PB and Js at Hallowed Grounds?
He texts right back.I was thinking steak at the Black Bear.
I laugh out loud at the prospect.Wow, someone is feeling daring. I thought you were allergic to that place.
Grant waits a moment before responding.Just a few of the regulars. Rumor has it everyone has dropped off the side of the planet, so I’m good to go.
Cool.I guess we’re going bovine. I need to say goodbye to my brother first, but I’ll meet you there at 7!
I head back to my dorm and get dressed to impress my favorite WB basketball player. All of my shoes are way too casual, so I riffle through Lucky’s selection. She’s an eight to my seven and a half, so thankfully her shoes are as good as mine. I pull on a pair of brown sable boots with gold buckles over the ankles. They pair nicely with my navy wool pleated miniskirt and off white cashmere sweater. I ended up going a little crazy at the mall with Lucky the other night. In an effort to get the right outfit to impress Grant’s parents tomorrow night, I may have accidentally purchased an entire wardrobe.
Thankfully, Owen didn’t bat a lash when I asked if I could borrow some cash. Owen has been far too generous with me ever since I’ve landed at Briggs. My parents have decided to pay for school and books—which is a blessing since they denied my brother that privilege. But after learning Owen was stripping to earn his way through school, they didn’t want to inadvertently sponsor my pole hugging days so they anted up at the registration office.
Nevertheless, my current outfit screams sexy coed far more than it does meet-the-parents, so tonight is the perfect night to showcase my rather expensive soft side. I pet my sleeves before pulling on a pea coat and heading out the door.
A blast of night air hits me as subtle as a frozen brick wall. Just a few more degrees, plus one good storm, and we’ll be looking at a white winter before we know it.
I can just picture Grant and me curled up by the fire at Beta house. Too bad there’s no real privacy in the commons room. Maybe we should head off to Lake Avalanche and rent a cabin? Not that I could even remotely afford to rent a cabin, let alone buy a keychain with the picture of one on it. I’m pretty sure hitting Owen up for cash so I can have a coital exchange with my new boyfriend for the weekend would kill him as efficiently as an ax to the head. Nope. Owen isn’t ever going to find out about Grant if I can help it.
Speaking of Owen, the Briggs Apartment Building comes up on me fast. At first the idea of having my brother live directly across the street from school made me feel safe and secure, and now the entire high-rise structure feels like a menacing shadow that hangs over my life. That’s the beauty of my relationship with Grant. I’m not Owen’s little sister—technically, I’mhislittle sister, which still manages to bring a sick smile to my face. And for sure I’m not Aubree’s little sister—the killer’s sister. I abhor that title. I realize my sister did actually cause someone to lose their life and almost took the life of another, but deep down, she’s still my sister and as much as it’s impossible to explain to someone, I can’t see her as a killer. She’s very sick. She needs help. I’ll never forget how rabid people were when she was first convicted. It felt as though the entire world wanted to snuff the life out of my entire family.
If my parents did one thing right it was shelter me, and for the most part Owen, from that whole terrible period in our lives. I was kept on a need-to-know-basis, and believe me, that was far more than enough. I wish I didn’t know any of it. I wish none of it were true.
