Jaw tight, I watch the new girl have a nice long chat with the cop.
“Cross.”
I look down, shocked to see Lily’s hand on my forearm. I didn’t even see her approach. “Cross, she’s in shock.”
I shake my head. “You’re in shock. I don’t see you inviting the local law enforcement for a spot of tea.”
I’m objective enough to realize Barbie doesn’t look too comfortable, but she’s babbling away.
Besides, it’s her third strike tonight, within less than an hour. First, she films me having some fun with my favorite toy, then she threatens me, and now she’s sharing her life story with the police. The simple truth is, she doesn’t belong on this side of the Rothford campus. Little Goody Two-shoes like her ought to remain with their peers.
“She helped the girl. She knew CPR,” Lily says. “There would have been a dead body in your pool without her. Please don’t turn your side of town against her.”
I can’t give her that assurance, so I just stride forward, approaching Barbie as the police man asks, “And what’s your name?”
He’s writing on a notepad, trying his best to stop himself from smirking. The truth is, the majority of the local police fucking hate most of the Heritage members, because they can tell there’s something up with us, but they never manage to get a thing to nail us with. A brand-new girl like her, without any loyalty to anyone? They’ll want to sink their claws into her and milk her for all she’s worth in order to pin something on us. Never mind the entire Shark House was at the wyverns’ for their first party of the year.
Sad as it is, the fact that Arthur’s unstable pet decided to kill herself in our pool has nothing to do with any of us—not even Arthur. Last I saw him, he was fucking Jessica in the billiard room. But if the witness says what they want her to say, they can still make our lives hell for a while. Long enough for us to get frustrated and pay them off to stop.
“Is there a problem, Officer?” I demand.
The balding puffy man’s smugness morphs into clear frustration as he glances at me, before returning to Claire. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station tomorrow, ma’am. Record your statement.” He dips his head. “Until then.”
Shoulders back, he makes his way to his car without looking at me.
I narrow my eyes at the blonde. “You okay?”
“I think…that guy was trying to make me tell him bad things about the party.” So she’s not that dumb, huh? Good. Quickly, Barbie adds, “I didn’t, though.”
“Didn’t you?” I say softly. If that were the entire truth, Officer Dipshit wouldn’t have looked like the cat who got the cream. “Because the only thing one should say to a dick like that cop is ‘no comment.’ You seemed to be having a nice chat.”
“I told him about finding the girl, that’s all,” she insists, shaking her head. “When he pushed about the party, I said I only drank what I took. No one served me anything. He was trying to push. I didn’t let him.”
Ah, that makes sense. Pushing that kid to admit that she’d been served alcohol would get someone in trouble. She’s new in town, underage—maybe eighteen.
What Dipshit and Barbie don’t get is that if someone’s head rolls, it’ll be Luke, the wyvern bartender for the night—firstly because he’s the one who actually served her the drinks, but also because Luke’s bankrolling his Rothford education with a mixture of loans and odd jobs. He’s not one of us—just someone useful.
Although he’s the only one likely to see any legal consequences, our parents would still step in, show their displeasure. We’re not supposed to attract the attention of law enforcement. Bringing a chick who’d betray us into our den shows a lack of judgement that we’d all pay for.
My own parents would likely just stick to thewe’re disappointedspeech, especially since the incident doesn’t directly implicate me, but others will get slaps on the wrists. Confiscated cars, cancelled vacations, that sort of thing.
And if everyone hears that they’re in trouble because of Barbie? Not even Keller’s protection will spare her that backlash. Fuck,Markusmight intervene. He’s the current vesper president.
Markus might be Keller’s cousin, but if he hears Barbie’s snitching, she’s done for.
“I heard what you did for Charlotte. The CPR,” I specify. “That’s the only reason why I’m telling you this now, Keller’s pet. Don’t go down to the station tomorrow.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning. “I can’t just ignore the police.”
I knew she was a snitch at heart. “You’re not under arrest. They have nothing on you. You’re nothing but a weapon for those wanting to harm us.”
“Maybe that’s how it works in your world, with the lawyers you can afford and all that, but inmine, I do what the police tell me to do,” she argues.
I sigh, tired of the whole ordeal. “Have it your way.”
She’s made her mind up, and I have to handle the fallout. After all, I’m the shark president this year. I can’t believe classes haven’t even started, and I already have a mess to clean up.
I mentally make a list. Call someone to drain and clean the pool, figure out what’s going on with the Charlotte chick from Arthur, and ask Keller to deal with his girl, unless he wants to have to dig a shallow grave should his cousin get wind of this first.
