Page 53 of Save Me

“You don’t have to,” I say hastily. Cyril’s party is definitely not the place for a person like Ruby. “I don’t think you’d enjoy it.”

I realize that was the wrong thing to say when Ruby frowns. She’s looking as though she took it as a challenge—the exact opposite of what I intended.

“What makes you think you know what I like and what I don’t?”

Alistair hides a cough, and I glare at him. He did that on purpose. He knows exactly what happens at these parties and what everyone there is like.

“I’d love to come, Alistair. Thanks for asking me,” Ruby says with a smile that’s way too charming to be real. “When and where?”

Alistair is opening his mouth to reply when I step in.

“I’ll give you a lift.”

Ruby’s shoulders tense.

“There’s no need for that, James.”

“It’s no problem to pick you up on the way.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Can you even drive?”

Alistair whistles appreciatively. Apparently, he’s enjoying me taking a verbal beating. I shake my head.

“Percy will drive us if that’s OK with you.”

Now she’s grinning from ear to ear. “That’s very much OK with me.”

“Percy, hmm? Yeah, I could be into him too. Looks a bit like Antonio Banderas,” Alistair remarks.

Bloody hell. Why can’t I keep my head straight when she’s around? I promised Lydia that I’d keep an eye on her—and that’s all there is between us. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

“Great. Percy will be at your place at eight.”

Ruby nods. “Fab.”

Ruby

Cyril Vega lives in the biggest, poshest house I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not even sure that “house” is the right word for what I’m facing here. The grounds—which we were only allowed onto once Percy’s number plate had been checked by a security camera—seem endless. Wherever I look, there’s nothing but manicured lawns and symmetrically planted shrubs and trees.

As James and I get out of the car, I stop for a moment, stare up, and take in the impressive façade. There are high pillars on either side of the entrance and a huge balcony above it, making the place look like a stately home from a different age.

At my side, James seems entirely unfazed as we climb the broad stone steps to the massive front door. But that’s hardly surprising. For one thing, Cyril’s one of his best friends, and for another, I bethis own house is at least this big. I feel my palms grow cold and clammy.

What am I doing here?

I swore never to go to one of their crazy parties. But a single stupid comment from James was enough to get my hackles up. I simply had to do the opposite of what he wanted, and in retrospect, that was just plain silly. It’s been annoying me all week that the trip to London with James was enough to blow my anonymity at Maxton Hall, and now I’m going to this party with him, where a lot of my year group will be too. I didn’t think for a second this afternoon about what that would mean. People will definitely be talking about us again—probably more so this time.

We can hear the music and loud voices even from outside. For a split second I consider faking a sudden illness and getting out of here. But I don’t want to give James the satisfaction. So I just rub my hands on my skirt and clear my throat. James gives me a sideways glance that I ignore. Then he opens the front door with a key that, weirdly, he has on his key ring.

We walk into such an imposing entrance hall that it distracts me from my nerves for a moment. It has a marble floor and magnificent furniture in subtle tones, accented in gold and white. There’s a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and on either side, a double staircase curving up to a gallery.

At first glance, you’d think the party filled the entire house. The music seems to be coming from another room, but there are guests here in the hall too. None of them pays us any attention. I give a sigh of relief.

“What are they doing up there?” I ask James, pointing to twenty or so girls and boys standing on the gallery.

“Playing a game that only works at Cyril’s,” he replies. “Kind of a version of beer pong.”

I watch as a guy drops something that turns out to be a bunch of table tennis balls over the railing. Some of them fall straight into a row of glasses down here in the foyer, but most miss. That makes the blokes cheer and a couple of girls screech, and it seems like all of them then have a drink.

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