Filed to story: Kissed by Claw and Fang
At least until I see Sebastian in the center of the group, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at me so wildly that I can’t help but giggle. Like every other guy in his group, he’s dressed in jeans and a tight T-shirt that shows off his chest and biceps. He looks good. Really good. Then again, so do most of his friends. He sticks his tongue out at me right before I turn away, and this time I full-on laugh.
“What’s funny?” Macy demands, but then she sees Sebastian and just rolls her eyes. “You know how long I spent trying to get his attention-and being totally ignored-before I gave up? If we weren’t cousins who are also destined to be best friends, I would resent you.”
“Pretty sure Sebastian and I are destined to be friends, too,” I tell her as I hustle to keep up with her ridiculously long stride. “I don’t think guys cross their eyes like that at girls they’re interested in.”
“Yeah, well, you never know. Dra-” She breaks off on a violent cough, like she’s just choked on her own saliva or something.
“You okay?” I pat her back a little.
“I’m fine.” She coughs again, looks a little nervous as she tugs at one of her flowy sleeves. “Drastic.”
“Drastic?” I repeat, more than a little puzzled at this point.
“In case you were wondering.” She shoots me an assessing look. “Before. I was going to say drastic. Like, sometimes guys go to drastic measures to get girls they like to notice them. That’s what I was going to say.
Drastic.”
“Oooookay.” I don’t say anything else because now I’m just confused. Not so much by what she’s saying as by how emphatic she’s being. Then again, she got weird around Sebastian yesterday, too. Maybe it’s being this close to him that turns her all tongue-tied.
Macy doesn’t say anything else as we finally make it to the center of the huge, ornately decorated room. Not that I blame her, because the group we’re passing now is filled with the most intimidating people in the place-by far. And that’s saying something, considering nearly everyone in this room is unnerving as fuck.
But these people take it to a whole new level. Dressed entirely in monochromatic shades of black or white-designer shirts, dresses, trousers, shoes, jewelry
-they all but drip money…along with a careless kind of power that it’s impossible to miss. Though they are as obvious a clique as any of the others in the room, there’s a kind of formality among them that the other groups lack, a sense that they have one another’s backs against anyone else in the room but that the alliance ends there.
As we walk by them, I realize there is another big difference between the other groups and them. Not one of them has so much as glanced my way.
I can’t help being grateful for that fact, considering my knees wobble a little more with each step I take toward Macy’s friends. I’m completely overwhelmed-not just by the number of people at the party who are looking at me but by how ridiculously tight most of the groups are. Like, seriously, there’s zero crossover-no guy dressed all in black hanging with a girl in a long, flowy dress. No super-tall girl making eyes at one of the sporty-looking guys, or girls, near the window.
No, everyone here at Katmere Academy seems to be staying firmly in their own lanes. And judging by the looks on their faces, it’s not fear keeping them there. It’s disdain for everyone else in the room.
Fun times. Seriously. I mean, I’ve always known prep schools are exclusive and snobby-who doesn’t? But I wasn’t expecting it to this degree. How much money, status, and attitude can one group of people have, anyway?
Guess it’s a good thing I’m related to the headmaster or I’d never make the cut. Nepotism for the win…or loss, depending on how this little soiree goes.
I can’t imagine why I was nervous to come to this thing…
Only pride keeps me from fleeing as we get close to her friends. Well, that and the fact that acting like prey right now seems like a particularly bad idea. I mean, if I don’t want to spend the rest of my senior year dodging every mean girl in the place.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my friends,” Macy tells me as we finally reach the group in the back. Up close, they’re even more spectacular, different gemstones gleaming in their hair and against their skin. Earrings, pendants, hair clips, plus eyebrow, lip, and nose rings, all bedecked with colorful stones.
I’ve never felt plainer in my life, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to once again tug on the neckline of my borrowed dress.
“Hey, guys! This is my cousin, Gr-“
“Ivy!” a beautiful redhead with a giant amethyst pendant interrupts. “Welcome to Katmere! We’ve heard soooo much about you.” Her voice is enthusiastic to the point of being mocking, but I’m not sure who she’s making fun of-Macy or me. At least until I look into her eyes, which are viciously cold-and focused entirely on me.
Big surprise.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer her-being polite is one thing. Participating while she makes fun of me is something else entirely. Thankfully, before I can decide what to do, a girl with thick, curly dark hair and perfect cupid’s bow lips does it for me.
“Knock it off, Simone,” she tells her before turning to me with what appears (I hope) to be a genuine smile. “Hi, Ivy. I’m Lily.” Her soft brown eyes seem friendly and her black hair is worn in locks woven through with sparkling ribbons that beautifully frame her rich brown skin. “And that’s Gwen.”
She nods toward an East Asian girl in a beautiful purple dress who grins and says, “It really is nice to meet you.”
“Um, it’s nice to meet you, too.” I’m trying, I really am. But my tone must sound as doubtful as the rest of me feels, because her eyes grow cloudy.
“Don’t pay any attention to Simone,” she says, all but hissing the redhead’s name. “She’s just bitter because all the guys are looking at you. She doesn’t like the competition.”
“Oh, I’m not-” I break off as Simone snorts.
“Yeah, that’s totally why I’m bitter. I’m worried about the competition. It has nothing to do with the fact that Stone brought a-“
“Why don’t we go get something to drink?” Macy interrupts her loudly.
I start to tell her I’m not thirsty-the low-grade nausea is back-but she doesn’t wait for my answer before she slips her hand in mine and draws me across the room to the buffet tables.
At one end, there are two huge teapots and an arrangement of teacups along with two open coolers filled with icy water bottles and cans of soda.
I start to reach for a cup-I’ve been freezing since I first landed in this state. But then I notice several orange and white five-gallon sports thermoses set up on a separate table. “What are those?” I ask, because I’m curious. And because there seem to be an awful lot of drinks for the number of people in this room. I really, really hope this doesn’t mean that a bunch more students are going to be showing up. We’re already over my comfort level with the number who are already here.
“Oh, those are just water,” Macy says breezily. “We always keep a bunch on hand in case the temperature drops suddenly and the pipes freeze. Better safe than sorry.”
It seems to me that they’d have special pipes and extra insulation for places in Alaska to make sure that doesn’t happen. But what do I know? I mean, it’s only November and it’s already below freezing outside. And that’s normal. It makes sense that a particularly harsh winter could really mess things up here.
Before I can ask anything else, Macy bends down, pulls a Dr Pepper out of the cooler, and holds it out to me. “I made sure Dad told them to order Dr Pepper for the party-and the cafeteria. It’s still your favorite, right?”
It is my favorite. I thought I was in the mood for tea, but there’s something about that maroon can that gets to me. That reminds me of home and my parents and the life I used to have. Homesickness wells up inside me, and I take the drink, desperate for something-anything-familiar.
Macy smiles at me, nods encouragingly, and I realize that she knows what I’m feeling. Gratitude helps chase away the homesickness. “Thanks. That’s really cool of you.”
“It’s nothing.” She knocks her shoulder against mine. “So, who do you want to meet next?” She nods to two guys lounging in red velvet armchairs near the back of the room. They’re dressed in the richly patterned button-ups that mark them as members of Macy’s group. “That’s Cam and his best friend.”