Stuck With The Four Hotties

His own words, however, are like a hole in the side of a ship, slowly filling with water. Zayd Kaiser is going to sink.

Son of Famous RoFker Billy Kaiser Rips on his Fans

That’s the first article that pops up. They didn’t even identify him by name in the headline, just by his dad’s accomplishments. Good. My brows go up as I keep scrolling.

Easy-to-Love Zayd Kaiser is AFtually Full of Shit

Oh, I like that headline.

“Marnye,” Zack says, coming to stand beside us. His hair is still wet from his morning shower-he always makes time to shower after his morning run

-but his uniform is in order, even if his tie is slightly crooked. “This is brilliant.”

The crowd parts and a hush falls over the gathered students as a man in a suit storms forward, a shaggy-haired guy in jeans close on his heels. Zayd is right there, trailing along behind him, his face crestfallen, his eyes wet with angry tears.

He follows the other two men down the steps to stand by the car, and they speak in hushed tones for several minutes before Zayd steps back and the others climb in and speed off.

“That was Billy Kaiser,” Miranda whispers in my ear. It’s pretty easy to tell, even without her confirming it. The way Zayd watches him, with this mix of hatred and yearning, he couldn’t be anyone else. After a moment, Zayd turns and heads back up the steps. At first, I think he’s going to walk on by, but then he stops and turns.

Our gazes met, and the crowd takes in a collective inhale as Zayd makes his way over to stand in front of me. His chest is heaving, and he’s soaked in sweat, his pale blue hair stuck to his forehead. There’s no gel in it this morning, no liner around his eyes. He looks like he wants to kill me.

“What have you done?” he snaps, but all I do is stand there and stare. I make myself remember my panties in his hand, that video of us kissing on the screen. The trophy, his face, the way he just stood there with his arm around freaking Becky Platter instead of me.

“Challenge accepted, met, and executed,” I say, and Zayd lets out this scream that’s strangely melodic. He was born to sing. Also born to be a dick, apparently. He reaches up and grabs his hair in two fists like he might be this close to having a nervous breakdown.

Zack steps up next to me, crossing his arms over his massive chest, like he’s a bodyguard or something.

“You do not fucking intimidate me,” Zayd hisses, sneering. “You’re no angel, Zack Brooks. Eventually, Marnye will see it, and she’ll dump you for someone like me.” This last part snaps off his tongue like an insult before he spins away and storms through the crowd, elbowing people out of the way as he goes.

My list is in the front pocket of my bag, so I pull it out, unfold it, and enjoy the squeak of the red Sharpie in the silence of the courtyard.

It feels so good to cross Zayd’s name off my list.

Tristan is a tricky little Idol to pin down. I almost feel like he’s actively avoiding me which makes zero sense, considering all the threats he’s leveled my way.

So my next step is sitting down with Miranda and going over exactly what happened in the Hamptons during the summer. According to her-and she is the gossip queen-Lizzie Walton declared war on the Burberry Prep Idols. Tristan, in particular, was on the receiving end of her wrath.

“She did it all for you, I think,” Miranda hazards, but even though I’ve sort of forgiven Zack, how can I deal with Lizzie? What can I do to get back at her that will even the odds? But contacting her is probably the best chance I have at finding some way to get under Tristan’s skin. I mean, I’m still kicking his ass in the academics department, but I did that last year, too. It’s not enough, not even close.

Besides, I won’t admit it aloud, but … I miss Lizzie. Every Friday, I looked forward to our conversations. Burberry Prep life feels much emptier without her.

“She’s still in love with him, too,” Miranda adds with a wistful, sad sounding sigh. “She’s going to marry that douche guy, what’s-his-face, the one that always adjusts his junk and licks his lips while he does it? Anyway, she’s going to marry him, but it’s going to be Tristan she’s dreaming about on her wedding night.”

“Do you think he still loves her?” I ask, an idea taking place in the back of my mind. Even though I know it’s ridiculous, I wait with bated breath for Miranda to answer my question.

“Definitely,” she says, and it’s like an arrow’s just gone through my heart. Doesn’t make any sense. As soon as I saw Tristan look at Lizzie Walton last year, I knew it, too. Everyone knows it. He never loved me. How could he? It was a game all along. Although ZaFk … Nope. I shut that part of my brain down and refuse to go there. Dating Zack won’t work, not with the plans I already have in mind. “Why? You want to share a room with him on the ski

trip or something?” Miranda chuckles, and I wrinkle my nose. “Are you

jealous?”

“Gross,” I laugh, pushing at her as she pushes back at me. “I’m not going on the ski trip.” Miranda blinks stupidly at me. Instead of the winter formal, second-years are given the option to attend an academy-sponsored ski trip. The cars leave the last Friday before winter break, and drop students at their houses (or the airport) on Tuesday which is Christmas Eve.

“You have to go on the ski trip,” she groans, putting her forehead down on the picnic table. We’re sitting outside, enjoying the icy morning and the bright rays of sunshine that make the frost evaporate like fog. “It’s a rite of passage.”

“The last time you used that phrase on me, you dragged me to that beach party.”

“And you had fun, despite the assholes in residence, right?” she asks, lifting her head up from the table. I sigh, and Miranda smiles softly. “I know you want to get back home to your dad, but it’s just a few days.” I give her a skeptical look, tapping my fingers on the table. “Oh, at least think about, Ms. Revenge. But factor this in, at least: there’s so much cheating and fooling around on the ski trip that it’s now academy legend to call the lodge Hookup Point.” She grins at me as I raise my eyebrows. “Do you see how messed-up Jalen and Ebony still are from the journal? Come on the ski trip, and I guarantee you’ll find some dirt worth digging up.”

“After some careful consideration …” I begin, and Miranda squeals with laughter, giving me a huge hug. From the corner of my eye, I see Creed watching us and flip him off.

His sister would rather be with me than with him.

He smirks at me as he rounds the corner, and I see then that he’s got Anna Kirkpatrick on his arm.

Hmm.

Fine. Challenge accepted is right.

“I’ll go,” I tell Miranda, watching Anna carefully.

If she’s not messing around with one of the other Bluebloods, I’ll be shoNôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

cked.

Loyalty isn’t exactly in their DNA.