No. Fucking. Way.
All seven of them drop their shit at the table, Nate resting comfortably beside me and Bishop sitting directly opposite me.
“I can’t do this,” I murmur to myself, shaking my head.
“Do what?” Bishop asks, eyebrow cocked. He leans forward, and whispers, “Wanna play a game?”
Tatum tenses and then looks to me. I ignore everything that’s going on behind me, my eyes remaining locked on Bishop’s dark, murky green ones. My jaw clenches. He leans back into the chair, and I stretch my leg out under the table, only for it to connect with his leg. His eyes twitch slightly before a grin appears.
Tatum clears her throat. “Um.” I look at her, leaving Bishop to continue his stare-down on his own. “Are you going to text Tillie?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, sliding it unlocked. “Yeah, I’ll text her now.”
“Two questions,” Nate starts, taking my sandwich and biting into it. I whack his arm with the back of my hand. “What?” He looks at me annoyed.
“Can you fucking not? I’m hungry. Eat this.” I throw him an energy bar.
“I didn’t eat this morning!”
“Well, that’s your own fault for not coming home last night. Eat. Give this—” I take the sandwich from his grabby hands. “—back.” He looks longingly at my sandwich, and I chuckle.
“Mmm.” I curve my mouth around it slowly, biting down on it. “So...” I chew slowly until I swallow. Swiping a drop of mayonnaise of the corner of my mouth with my thumb, I suck it off. “Good.” I laugh again, taking another normal bite, and then look around the table at everyone’s silence. They’re all watching me with mixed expressions. I look back to Nate, about to ask what the hell is going on, only his mouth is hanging open.
“Yeah.” He takes the sandwich from me. “No more mayonnaise sandwiches for you. Mmkay?” Then he shovels the remainder of what was left into his fat gob. I flip him off, looking back down at my phone. I scroll through the contacts until I’ve find Tillie, and send her a quick message.
Me – Hey, it’s Madison. Are you still on for tonight?
Tillie – Hey! I was wondering when you’d text. Sure, what time?
Me – Tatum and I will come pick you up after school if you want?
Tillie – Um, I can get dropped off.
Me – Are you sure?
Tillie – Yeah. Just send me your address and I’ll be there.
After sending Tillie my address, I look back up to Tatum. “She’ll get dropped off after school.”
“Back to my questions. Who is Tillie, and is she single?”
I throw a carrot stick at Nate and then go back to eating whatever is left on my plate. My eyes fall on Brantley, who has gone from scowling at me to flat out ignoring me, and then drift down to the rest of the guys, who seem to be eating and conducting small talk among themselves. My eyes eventually fall on Bishop… and… he’s staring at me again.
“You know,” I whisper, inching toward him with a teasing grin, “it’s rude to stare.”
He clenches his jaw, his eyes and face hard and unfazed. Then his mouth tips as he leans forward until his lips are a mere breath away from mine. “You know,” he whispers back, cocking his head, “I think you know how poor my manners are.”
I look from his eyes, down to his mouth, and then back to his eyes. Narrowing my glare, I slide out of my seat.
“Oh, come on, kitty,” Bishop taunts as I walk toward the trash can, dumping the rest of my food. “I know how you like games.”
I flip him off over my shoulder and walk toward the girls’ side of the school, Tatum quickly catching up to me breathlessly.
“What the ever-loving fuck is going on with you and Bishop?” she asks loudly, gaining the attention of Ally and Lauren, who are stashing their books into their lockers.
“Shh!” I scold her, walking toward my next class. “I’ll tell you later.”
She stops, letting me carry on my walk toward my next subject alone. “You better!” she yells to my back.
I look down at my watch, seeing I still have some time to burn, so I decide to take a detour to the library. I haven’t checked it out yet, but it has been on my list of things to do.
Pushing open the double doors, I walk into the smell of worn paper, sound knowledge, and history, and it instantly warms my heart. Pulling in a deep breath, I close my eyes and exhale softly, unleashing any bad juju I had by leaving it at the library’s door. There’s just something magical about a library. It’s like a portal to many different worlds. We have one ready to be set up at home. My dad at least made sure to get a house with a library in it, so all I have to do is fill it and furnish the place. I’m sure I could do it anytime I want, with my dad’s little plastic friend, but I want to make sure we really are staying here before I put down roots like that, and also without getting too attached. I’ve never let myself get too attached or too comfortable with where we have been, because I’ve been afraid. Afraid, because anytime I start getting comfortable, Dad would uproot our life and we’d be moving somewhere else. Do I know what Dad does for work? I mean, we all knew he is wealthy and came from old oil money, but he also has shares in different establishments, not only in the United States but in Europe as well. Money has never been an issue for me, but having an actual home has.
After giving the librarian a polite wave, I head toward a dark, cozy corner tucked away behind History. After dropping my bag to the table that sits in front of the plush LazyBoy, I start on my trek of finding something to humor me for the remainder of lunch. After doing big circles around, I find myself down the Historical Folklore aisle.
Tilting my head, my eyes run over all the worn brown spines until I’m drawn to one with a circle symbol on. I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s familiar. I just can’t pinpoint anything I have ever seen before. Slipping my finger on the top, I slide the heavy, long book out and carry it back to my seat. Crossing my legs underneath me, I run my fingertips over the cover of the book. The embroidered circle emblem with a double infinity inside of it. So simple, yet so familiar.
Opening the cover, the title page reads, Secrets are weapons, and silence is the trigger. – V. S. H.
I read over that phrase a couple more times. So vague. With a roll of my eyes, I flip the page, skipping the table of contents.
1
The Calling.
The somber side of me knew what was to come. When I felt my baby’s first kick, I knew. Knowledge wasn’t one we liked to hold onto very well in our world, not when The Chosen go by facts alone, not knowledge. Impulse actions, not knowledge. Consequences be damned. My child was to be one of The Chosen. He would be one of the originals. This corrupt pact that Joseph had begun was only the beginning for generations to come. The firstborn sons of each chosen family. Dirty, spilled blood would then be passed down on to their hands.
The Calling. This was the calling.
“Madison, is it?” The librarian looks down at me, and I snap the book closed as if I had done something wrong.
“Yes, sorry.”
She points down to her watch. “Lunch is over. It’s time to head to class.”
“Oh!” I gather up my bag. “Can I borrow this?”
She looks at me, the sides of her eyes crinkling. “Sorry, honey, that’s a part of the section we don’t allow to check out. You can come in and read it anytime you like, though.” I hand it to her, and she walks over and slides it back into its slot.
Damn. I really wanted to read the rest of that book and I don’t even know why. It’s not a genre I usually read, far away from dystopian or vampire romances, but I really want to read whatever the hell is in that book. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I nod. “Thanks.” And then I walk out of the library. As soon as the doors swing closed, I inhale my problems I had left at the door.
Great.
“SO SHE SAID SHE WOULD be here?” Tatum quizzes, rummaging through my closet with a bottle of Moet in her other hand. It’s 5:00 p.m. an
d she’s already started drinking. I fear she might be going to bed early tonight.
“Yes!” I hit my phone, dialing Tillie again. This time, she picks up.
“Sorry! I got caught up and I had to do….” She pauses, brushing me off. “Shit. I’m almost there.”
Hanging up my phone, I toss it onto the bed and buzz Sam to let her in as soon as she gets here, just in case we don’t hear her knock. Nate hasn’t come home, again, but he did text to say that they’ll be here soon to set up whatever it is they need to set up. My dad is going to kill us. I made it my duty, this time, to go around the house and put away any expensive items. Our house is still rather empty, even though Dad hired a few people to come out and unload boxes to make it more homey for me, which I’m used to. He’s never been a home parent; Sam practically raised me. Even when my mom was alive, they were both almost always away on business, and now that I look back on it, my mom probably followed him around like a lost puppy in hopes to keep him on a leash.
It’s true, my dad has never been one for commitment, and I’m surprised he hasn’t already found another mistress, but that side of him has never impacted me or how he parented me. Yes, he’s an absent parent, but I’m not bratty enough to give him a hard time about it. I’m well aware of his hard work and how I wouldn’t have the life I have if he didn’t. But if I’m honest, I always wondered what it would be like for my dad to be a middle-class working man. One who fishes on the weekends, is always home by 5:00 p.m., and watches the game on TV while tossing back a cold beer.
I stand to my feet, brushing off my pants, and walk into the closet to help Tatum find something to wear before she has a breakdown.
“Why don’t you just wear the dress you bought at the mall?”
“Because,” she whines, “I’m almost certain I’ve gained three pounds since then.”
“Tatum?”
“Yes?” She groans into her hands, looking all distressed. I almost laugh. Almost.
“That was two days ago. Not possible.”
“Maybe not for you.” She eyes me up and down.
“Hey!” I whack her with the back of my hand. “I’ll have you know that if I didn’t watch what I eat, I would be the size of a house. Dude—” I grab onto my hips. “—they jiggle a bit.”
She pouts, and then we both burst out laughing. “Well…,” she says, handing me the bottle of champagne, “let’s just do the alcohol diet.”
I take the bottle from her, slipping out of my skinny jeans and hoodie. “And what’s that diet?” I ask, standing in my bra and lace panties, bringing the rim to my mouth and tossing it back until the bubbles are enticing my taste buds.
She waves her hands, freaking out over a black sequin dress. “Well, we get so drunk that we no longer care about our weight.”
I laugh, taking another swig and pointing to the dress she’s holding and contemplating. “Deal. By the way, wear that dress.”
She nods and then spins to look me up and down. “By the way,” she mimics my tone, her eyes eating up my skin, “you have a fucking banging body, Madi. What the fuck?”
I turn beat red and change the subject. “Wear the dress.” I bring the wine back to my lips.
My bedroom door swings open, and I turn around with the bottle of wine pressed to my mouth, expecting Tillie to walk through.
It is Tillie. But she is not alone. Fuck.
“Holy shit!” Hunter gasps. Nate halts the door from opening any more, and then Bishop strolls in, his eyes licking all over my skin, making me feel even more naked than what I already do.
I squeal, dropping to the ground and ducking behind my bed. “Oh my God! Everyone but Tillie, get the fuck out!”
Bishop watches me, his head tilting until his eyes twinkle in mischief.
“Hey!” I point at the door. “Get. Out!”
They leave, but not before Hunter halts, his fingers gripping the edge of the door. “Just for, you know, future reference, what were you two—”
Bishop drags him out of my room by the back of his collar, and Tillie slams the door in all their faces.
“Jesus,” I mumble, getting back to my feet. “Fucking pack of unruly wolves.” Tillie is still watching the door when I burst out laughing.
“Sorry about that. I should have warned you about my stepbrother and his pack of…” I pause, attempting to find the appropriate word for them. “Of exactly that—wolves.”
Tillie turns to me and smiles. “No problem at all.” She looks down my body. “But seriously, can I have your boobs, because mine are like tiny lemons compared to those scrumptious things.”
We all laugh as she steps in closer with her bag propped over her shoulder. “I’ll get ready here.”
I nod, handing her the bottle of wine. “As you can see… we are far from dressed.”
Tatum nudges my hip with hers. “Ignore Madi. She’s a little…” She circles her index finger up near her temple to emphasize my edginess. “…crazy, because she didn’t get to go shooting after school.”
“Shooting?” Tillie asks, pulling out some clothes from her backpack.
“It’s a sort of hobby of mine.” I smile at her, and she grins at me.
“That’s badass. I’d love to learn one day.”
My back straightens at the opportunity to find someone, a friend, who is maybe interested in something I do. I know Tatum and I have grown extremely close in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, despite my thinking we couldn’t be friends, but Tillie seems like the center of Tatum and me. Sort of like… a bit of each of us.
I’m obviously a little buzzed, because my train of thought is heading into the emotional tunnel, and I need to derail that right now. Swallowing, I nod. “I’d love to take you! Get changed and drink!”
She laughs, pulling out a long-sleeved short dress that looks tight. She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll slip into the bathroom.”
Modest… far more modest than I’m being right now, which, now that I think about it, is a lot worse. At my revelation, I place the bottle of Moet down on my bedside table and turn to face her. “Of course.” Sober up right now, Madi, or you’ll be joining Tatum facedown before 9:00 p.m.
I spin back around to face my closet when I catch Tatum looking at the closed door. “Why would she be shy around us?” she whispers.
“Shh!” I bring my finger up to my mouth. “Maybe,” I say, scolding her and pulling my new—or Tatum’s—choice of dress off the rack, “because she’s been around us for all of five minutes.”
Tatum narrows her eyes. “Hmmm, maybe.”
“Stop!” I point my finger against the tip of her nose. “Don’t dig or anything. Just leave it.” Shit. I’m a little buzzed. “What the hell is in that wine, anyway?”
“Uhh, wine? Wine is what’s in that wine, and not the cheap kind. Live and learn, my love.” She steps into her dress, every inch of the sequined material pushing against her tiny frame. “Do me up!” I zip her up and she turns. “How do I look?”
“Holy shit, you look incredible!” Tillie says, walking out of the bathroom.
I halt, scanning her curvy frame filling her tiny little dress. “So do you!” I point. “You two are going to make me look like the ugly stepsister.” Tatum looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and Tillie scrunches up her face. “Better continue my drinking,” I half joke under my breath.
I don’t have that high of a self-esteem, but that came from years and years of just never fitting in. All the pretty girls hang together; they all gravitate toward each other and all feed off each other’s beauty and what not, but that’s never been me. I’ve always been the tomboy loner who likes to shoot guns and wear Keds or Chucks. Tatum? She’s a heels-and-diamonds kind of girl—always looks stunning—and has the kind of confidence that could only come from being told “you’re the shit” for most of your life. Tillie, on the other hand, I’m still trying to work out. She has this retro hippie feel about her, what with her pastel pink hair and earthy, naturally
beautiful, in-line-with-the-universe thing going on, if that even makes sense—which I’m sure it doesn’t, because fucking wine.
Jesus, I need to pull my shit together. Deep breathing, in and out. But every intake of breath I take, I get hit with a rich tang on the back of my throat from the after taste of the expensive alcohol.
“Hello?” Tatum waves her hands in front of my face. “Earth to Madi, get changed!”
“Shit.” I snap out of my lingering thoughts of self-pity and tipsy ramblings. “I’ll get changed. Fire up the curlers.” I slip into my closet, unclip my current bra, and snap on a strapless. When I step back out, I say, “Tatum, did I tell you how much I hate you for choosing this dress? I don’t do dresses.”
“Good thing I gave you wine beforehand then.” She winks, curling her hair, as Tillie leans over the sink in the bathroom, doing her makeup.
“This was your plan?” I look at her with fresh eyes. She’s sneakier than I ever imagined.
Tatum taps her head. “You’ll never know.”
Hmm, sure I won’t.
“So,” Tillie says from the bathroom, “I’ve never been to an elite party before.”
I halt, dress clutched in my hand. “What?” I ask lightly.
“You know,” Tillie lines her eyes with black, “an elite party.”
“You mean figuratively?”
Tatum rolls her eyes, letting her long, blonde fresh curls drop over her slender shoulders. “No. She means Elite, Madi. We’ve had this discussion.”
“Wait, how do you even know about that?” I look back toward Tillie.
She stops what she’s doing. “We’ve all heard of them, Madi. I didn’t realize your stepbrother was Nate Riverside, though.”
“Are you judging me?”
She stops and spins to face me, horror flashing over her freshly marked face. “God, no, Madi. No. I was just surprised when I pulled up here. That’s all.”
I nod, turning back to hold my dress. If Nate and his boys cost me a friendship, I’ll have to kill him for real. I have a hard enough time making friends—not that I actually care—but I happen to like Tillie, so I don’t want to lose her friendship. “By the way, whatever you heard about them, it’s not true.”