Chapter 2

I didn't turn around.

To hell with friends. To hell with fantasies.

The next day the study hall was so quiet you could hear pages turning.

I had my headphones in, reworking my MIT personal statement, when a folded pink note slid onto the desk beside my hand.

I looked up. Delphine stood there, eyes a little red, a thick stack of review binders hugged to her chest.

The note read: Sloane, I'm so sorry. Easton just looks out for me, that's all. I'd never want to come between you two. Please forgive me.

Classic.

I was about to crumple it when my eyes caught on the stack in her arms.

The binder on top was blue, the edges soft and frayed from being flipped through too many times. Tucked under the clear cover was a small red charm from Chinatown, its seam still pressed flat over whatever I'd folded inside it.

That was mine.

Last month Easton complained that AP History was killing him. I'd pulled three all-nighters condensing two years of material into that binder by hand. The charm I'd gotten on a four-hour bus ride out to the oldest temple in Chinatown, a little thing to keep him safe.

I'd thought he lost it. Turns out he just regifted it.

"Your notes?" I pulled out one earbud and pointed at the blue binder.

Delphine's face shifted. She pulled the binder in tighter against her chest. "Easton— Easton gave them to me. He said they were his, that he put the key points together himself."

"Did he." I stood up. "He can't keep the turning point of the Civil War straight, but he built a timeline this detailed?"

I reached over and caught the edge of the binder.

"Give it back." My voice went flat and cold.

"Sloane! What are you doing?" Delphine shrieked and clamped both arms around it, tears spilling over on cue. "Stop it, I swear I didn't know it was yours—"

Her scream pulled every eye in the room toward us.

"Let go." I tightened my grip.

Then something slammed into me from the side.

"Sloane! Are you out of your mind?"

Easton came at me like he'd lost it and shoved my shoulder, hard.

I had no time to brace. I stumbled back, and my hip cracked into the sharp corner of the desk. I couldn't catch myself. My forehead scraped the metal shelf beside me, and something warm ran down past my eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" Easton didn't even glance at me. He pulled Delphine into his arms.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. Blood dripped between my fingers onto the pale floor.

Bright, and ridiculous.

In the nurse's office, the school nurse finished taping the cut, shook her head, and stepped out.

Easton stood over the cot, looking down at me. There was no guilt in his face, only impatience.

"Sloane, how long are you going to keep this up?" he said coldly. "Those notes were mine to give. You gave them to me, so what I do with them is my business. Did you really have to humiliate her in front of everyone?"

I sat on the edge of the cot, wiping the blood off my fingers with a tissue, slow and careful.

"Stealing someone's work to win a girl over." I lifted my eyes. "That's what you came back a second time to learn?"

His pupils shrank. The color drained from his face.

"What—what did you say?" He stared at me. His voice actually shook.

I didn't bother with his shock. "State AP exams are next week. You think her holding my notes means she can beat me?"

Last life, to protect that fragile little ego of his, I held my scores down every single time. Buried my own results just so he could rank above me.

"You're full of yourself, Sloane." He found his footing again and ground the words out, like I'd hit a nerve. "You think you're so smart? I'll tutor Del myself. I'll put her so far above you, you'll be looking up at her."

"Fine." I stood and met his eyes. "Then let's make a bet."

"A bet on what?"

"If her score comes in under mine," I said, even and cold, one word at a time, "the two of you kneel and apologize to me. On results day. In front of the whole school."

He laughed like I'd told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "And if you lose?"

"Do whatever you want."

"Deal." His eyes went dark and mean. "You're going to pay for that arrogance, Sloane."

"We'll see who pays." I picked up my bag and walked past him without looking back.