Page 3 of The Bargain

Especially today.

I step off the tennis court to find a flurry of texts waiting for me.

Blaise Blackwood: You didn’t respond to my invitation. Party, tonight, 8pm. Old Botanical Studies building. The Brotherhood will be providing the best liquor available, naturally.

I wince at the mention of the Brotherhood—but keep reading, part in annoyance, part in morbid anticipation.

Dimitri Kavinski: You coming tonight or what?

Blaise Blackwood: Don’t be late, darling. This party will be so boring without you.

Dimitri Kavinski: Come put a leash on your Head Boy, cuz. He’s doing my head in.

Blaise Blackwood: Where are you?

Blaise Blackwood: One hour late, Dess. Bad form, darling.

Austen Sutton-Knight: Don’t be mad, sis. We’re at the party. We’ll behave.

William Sutton-Knight: Hi, just wanted you to know we’re at the party. No need to panic, though! I’m making sure Austen stays out of trouble. You have nothing to worry about. We’ll be back in our dorms by midnight.

Austen Sutton-Knight: Dess. Something’s happened. Call me back.

Austen Sutton-Knight: Please.

One moment ago, on the court, I could feel my racket handle warm in my hand, the grip strong and familiar. My ponytail sticking lightly to the back of my neck, the droplets of sweat whipping free from my skin. My lungs pulling air in, deep and perfectly measured. My calves tightening as I sprang into motion, shoulders rolling with each serve, the clean line of tension from my spine to the racket’s edge.

Now, the hot surge of adrenaline becomes a flow of ice in my veins. My body, alive and elastic a minute ago, becomes hard and brittle as a gown made from porcelain.

Grabbing my things, I turn and run off the court, praying I’m not too late to fix things.

The old Botanical Studies building crouches amongst the dark trees, spilling out lights and music through broken windows and loose slats. I don’t want to go in, but what choice do I have?

I’ve been trying to call Austen and William non-stop, but neither of them answers. Both are at the party—which they absolutely shouldn’t be.

I catch a breath, and plunge through the doorway.

Brotherhood parties are always more chaotic than any party ought to be. Heavy metal music, strobe lights, hard liquor. The smell of alcohol and perfume and sweat is so dense it’s almost suffocating. In the flashing, pulsing, crashing darkness, everyone seems stripped of their identities, reduced to bodies. Bodies dancing, writhing, yelling, making out. My own blood rushes in my veins in a sudden surge that almost feels like panic. I push my way through, scanning faces as best I can.

Still nothing. My shoulders tighten, muscles seizing, already sore. Two girls try to drag me between their dancing bodies, and I lurch back before realising they’re two of my closest friends, Mira Rajahn and Emerald Carver.

“Have you seen my brothers?” I yell through the music, but Mira’s already being dragged away by two boys, and Emerald is watching her, laughing.

I turn and force my way through the dancing bodies, to the other side of the room. My brain, unhelpfully, is conjuring up all the things the twins are capable of, all the times they’ve gotten themselves in trouble over the years. I love them, but sometimes I wish they knew how exhausting it is to be their sister.

I’ve almost reached the calmer side of the party when an arm curves around my waist, startling me. For a split second, I imagine a blood-stained hand, a hot trail of red across my stomach. I turn, heart hammering. A wet mouth presses against my cheek, sending a shudder of disgust through me.

“Knew you couldn’t stay away,” Julian Langford mumbles. “I miss you, baby.”

I pull away from him. It’s been almost two years since I broke up with him. Even now, I still can’t get over the disgust I felt watching him throw knives at someone’s face. Every time I see Julian, I can’t help but think about…

No. Not now.

“Have you seen my brothers?”

“Who?” He looks me up and down, eyes glazed. “God, you’re so beautiful, can’t we just⁠—”

The truth is that I know it’s not really me he misses. It’s being with me—and the spotlight that came with it.