Page 16 of The Pawn

He's going to find a way to hurt me, no matter what the cost. And I wonder for the first time who's the predator and who's the prey.

Chapter 8

"You're going to regret that," Chrissy says, echoing my thoughts. "Thanks though."

"Welcome. It was a dumb prank anyway." I slide my eyes over at her, taking in the cherubic cheeks, the shadow roots on her freshly dyed blonde hair, and makeup that covers every possible imperfection. Cole was right about her nose, too; there's not a bump or flaw to be seen, though I have no idea if it's always been that way. "What did you do to get his attention, anyway? He acted like you personally ran over the family cat."

She looks away. "I made a mistake when I was twelve. He hasn't forgotten."

"So like four years ago? Wow." I shake my head. "He's got a long memory for grudges, that Cole Masterson."

"Tell me about it. Which is why you shouldn't have crossed him." She sighs. "I thought that after all this time, I would be able to get a fresh start here. But I guess I won't."

We're nearing the dorms for juniors now. I have to admit that the building I'm about to live in is impressive. The architecture here is out-of-this-world; Lukas was right about that much when he gave his tour.

Rosalind Hall looks like something that belongs in a period piece. It may have been built more recently than the rest of the school, but its architecture matches. No doubt Lukas would have something to say about the wide front porch, the rose garden that wanders underneath all the first floor windows, or the tiny balconies outside the rooms on the second story.

All I see is money, money, and more money. There are prestigious universities with less fancy dorm buildings than this.

"So, Chrissy... have a last name?"

"Lakewood. Chrissy Lakewood." She sticks out a hand, and I shake it, staring down into her bright blue eyes. "You know, one thing Cole said wasn't true. You won't be friendless around here just because he 'marked' you and declared open season on you."

Open seasonisn't exactly how I wish she would've phrased it, but I came here to start something. I guess I just got it going sooner. Chrissy continues, "You're not the only person Cole has marked. Or the only person he hates around here—or who hates him. There's the Utilities Manager's son, for one thing. Cole hates him."

"So there's you," I unfold a finger, "me," a second one, "and the son of the guy who... wait, do you mean Hector Sanchez?"

"Yeah."

"I met him already. He said to come to him if I needed help."

"See? Youwillhave friends." She beams up at me as we walk through the wrought iron gates around Rosalind Hall and head up the front steps. "Just try not to make any more enemies. This place isn't exactly known for its gentleness. No matter what they say around here, Coleridge isn't about academics. It's about money and power. And the rich spoiled kids here know how to use both."

"Got it."

I appreciate Chrissy's warning, but she's not telling me anything I don't already know. I learned the hard way what rich kids can do to easy targets. Nothing will ever come close to seeing my brother's body lowered into the ground in a casket before we got to our seventeenth birthday together.

By the time we go through the front doors of Rosalind Hall, it's clear that we're late. There's a neat crowd gathered in the lobby, watching a girl pace back and forth on the steps, her hands animated as she gives a speech. I recognize her sleek ponytail immediately and have to bite back a groan; of course Holly Schneider is here giving yet another speech while outside her boyfriend bullies a girl.

"And so, that's why if you need something—no matter how big or small—you should come to the Rosalinds, our group of student resident assistants." Her mouth curves into a prim, perfect little smile, lips glossy, her eyes perfectly lined. I can feel my shabbiness from climbing into the tree and want to hide even as Chrissy and I join the small crowd of girls and their parents. "I know it's a lot to take in, so if you have any questions or need help transitioning to a new living situation, I'm in room 101. That's the first door on the hallway to the left of the stairs—you can't miss it."

The thought of going to Cole Masterson's girlfriend for help makes me cringe. She may seem like a nice, friendly girl, but there's no way that's real. No one can live in the shadow Cole casts and come out clean.

"Oh! And one more thing before you all go." Clapping her hands together, she surveys all of us, her eyes distinctly landing on each girl. When I feel her gaze I lift my chin, meeting her eyes straight-on. "We're short one girl in the Rosalinds after a sudden off-campus move cut down our numbers."

A murmur goes up among the crowd; like me, a lot of them clearly had no idea that girlscouldlive off campus in the first place.

"If you're interested in joining the Rosalinds," Holly continues, "then just see me tomorrow after class, during my RA hours. We need someone who's a real go getter: confident, capable, and most of all, a peacekeeper. The position pays twelve an hour, so it's not much, but you also get discounts on off-campus excursions and the occasional bonus."

Twelve dollars an hour is more than any retail job in Wayborne pays. But of course, to a girl like Holly it's nothing; she probably made that much cleaning her room when she was five. My parents couldn't pay for an allowanceandkeep a roof up over our heads at the same time, so the thought of the money is appealing, even if the last thing I want is to work alongside Holly Schneider.

Then again, maybe if I get close to her, she'll let something slip about Cole.

"Do you think you'll apply?" I ask Chrissy. She gives me a puzzled look. "To be a Rosalind. I mean, if it pays and all.."

"Oh, I don't have time for something like that. Studying is my priority." She shrugs. "Besides, my summer internship paid more, and it was actually fun. Who wants pocket change just to listen to all these girls whine about the size of their rooms? No thanks."

I stare at her. When I saw Cole bullying her beneath that tree, I just assumed... but no, I didn't imagine it; she called all these kids rich and spoiled. "I didn't know high schoolers could get summer internships," I observe, trying to figure out more about her. "Where did you say you're from?"

---