Page 35 of The Pawn

I'm on my own in this, I realize now. Just like I planned from the start.

Let the game begin.

Chapter 18

Somehow, miraculously, my social security number goes through without a hitch and no one finds out that I'm not really Brenna Cooke. That means I'm going to be busy the rest of this week helping Holly and the other girls plan this weekend's rock climbing trip—something I look forward to and yet fear at the same time, because it's one of the coed events, and I have no doubt that Cole will be there.

He won't mess with me the rest of this week, though. As art class filtered out, he grabbed my wrist again and brought me close enough to murmur, "You get a reprieve until Friday evening, but only because of Holly. She stays out of this, and so do the teachers and staff, or everyone finds out your secret. Clear?"

"Crystal."

I guess he decided that messing with me in front of the other students too much wasn't worth the risk. After all, Holly is popular, and she's sure to find out eventually if he slips up and makes one of his little "accidents" look too on purpose.

With Cole at least resting from his angry tantrums, that just leaves dealing with Blake as a TA and trying to figure out how to get close to Tanner. I haven't really seen Lukas since the tour—he was in my English lit class, but we didn't talk. I wonder if he'll take up the mantle of his friend's public feud with me or not; he didn't act like the type, but then again, none of them does on the surface.

It's up to me to find out what lurks beneath the genteel faces they show the public and expose the rot within.

* * *

The Rosalinds invite you to our first of many off campus events: A Day of Rock Climbing at Founder's Quarry! Enjoy pushing yourself to the limit, and meet your fellow incoming classmates from Hadley Hall.

Saturday, 2:00 PM. Bus loads at 1:30 PM. Pickup at the main gates.

Don't forget the SPF and the can-do-it attitude. Refreshments and climbing gear provided.

It seems counter-intuitive to start off our event schedule with a grueling outdoor sport, but Holly explained it succinctly when I asked.

"The rock climbing event is a Rosalind tradition. My sister did it three years ago, and countless Rosalinds have planned it for who knows how long before her. Nothing gets strangers to become acquaintances and acquaintances friends like a little danger and a lot of trust."

"So we'll be belaying for each other?"

The belayer keeps the climber from falling, though most rock climbing places also have backup auto-belays.

"Yep!" She beamed at me. "There'll be lockers at the event, so bring a change of clothes. You don't want to get your Rosalind shirt stinky."

The shirt she referred to is one I'm staring at now in the mirror of our half bathroom. It's a dark blue shirt with bright gold, shiny letters—Coleridge colors. But because I joined last minute, the only size they had was XXL, and it hangs off me comically.

I look like a tent in need of fumigation. The hem of the shirt is so long that it brushes the bottom of my shorts, making me look like I'm wearing the world's ugliest fast fashion dress. But there's no other option—I'm supposed to wear the shirt anywhere I'm representing the Rosalinds, take it off to change into athletic clothes when it's my turn to go rock climbing, then put it back on after I shower at the quarry.

Apparently being one of the Rosalinds is so special that we're meant to pretend like we don't sweat. Holly doesn't, I'm sure, or else Cole wouldn't be so eager to please her that he'd take a little break from his goal of tormenting me.

He must love her.

I'm getting distracted. Sighing at my reflection, I pull my hair up into a low, sloppy pony and make myself exit the bathroom.

"How do I look?"

Holly glances up at me from the ground, where she's sitting cross legged in front of a poster she's making that says REFRESHMENTS in sparkly gold paint. She stares at me, mouth opened slightly wide, and lets out an incredulous—and not at all ladylike—snort laugh hybrid.

"Oh no! This won't do. You look like someone shrunk you in the dryer on high."

"Well, it was the only shirt." I tug on the hem and the sleeves, as if that could possibly make things any better. "There's really no other option."

"Oh, but there arealwaysoptions, Brenna. You'll see that now that you live with me. Here, take it off." She approaches me and grabs the bottom of the shirt, pulling it up towards my shoulders before I can protest. "Arms up—there we go. I can fix this."

I feel more naked than I've ever been, standing in a room with Cole Masterson's girlfriend in nothing but my denim shorts and a bra. Holly doesn't spare me a look, but then why would she, when I've got nothing to look at compared to her.

"Alright, so we just cut here, here and here... then a little bit of work at the hem..."

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