Digging my phone out of my pocket, I text the one person who owes me. For loyalty. And to prove he still means somethingto me.
Me
Are you my friend or not?
Logan
What? Of course I am. Why?
Me
Then make it up to me and sneak me into Beta House. I need to get to Ayan’s room.
Logan
Scoutie…
Me
You owe me, Logan. You know Ayan deserves it.
I suck in cold air until it burns my lungs, waiting for his reply. Is this it? Is our friendship done? Or will he come through?
Logan
Come to the back door, but hurry. I’ll hold it for you.
I smile to myself. One less person to chop out of my life.
When I scurry toward their patio, I’m careful to avoid the windows. Dipping low. Hoping the stupid ears on my beanie don’t give me away.
Logan leans on the open door as he sees me approach, his breath huffing out in a white cloud. He waves me in, and I quicken my pace.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, and I don’t want to,” he says as he shuts us in. We’re in the little service hallway in the back, the one closest to the stairs straight to the top…where Ayan’s room is.
“Remember when we were kids and you told on everyone, little snitch?” I’m a lot shorter than him, but his blue eyes widen when I step into his chest and hold my finger up like a threat.
“Don’t start with that.” He grimaces, wire-rimmed glasses fogging up with the sweat beading at his hairline.
“Yes. Exactly. Don’t start now either.” I have nothing to hold over his head, except guilt. Which he’s very sensitive to. “You stood in front of Ayan as hecheatedon me.”
His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Under his breath, he whispers, “But he’s my president?—”
“And I used to be your best friend. Remember? Before Ellis? You and I were inseparable.”
The warmth returns to his face like he’s picturing us back then. “Fine. Just don’t tell me anything. I’ll claim ignorance. He’s down in his office, so he won’t know you’re upstairs. Just…hurry.”
“Bye, friend.” I nod once, reassuring him we’re good now, then I dart up the stairs.
As soon as I find Ayan’s room, I twist the knob and sigh with relief that it’s open. Not hesitating, I dash into his bathroom, reach into my pocket, and produce a bottle of hair remover. I find his shampoo bottle in the shower, unscrew the cap, and fill it up with some of the product I brought with me. After shaking it and carefully setting it back where I found it, I step back. Smile. And take a deep inhale of victory.
A few washes and it will seep out into his fingers. Onto his hairbrush. Slowly. More clumps will fall out…
He’ll be so sad he’s going bald at such a young age.
And I won’t stop until it’s all gone.
Now, for the next item on the agenda.
