Page 40 of Ruthless Chaos
I do my best to hide my feelings from Tara, though.
After a slight acknowledgement of what she’s said, I switch the topic to something lighter—the shopping trip ahead of us. Right on time too, as the forest has fallen away into a mixture of residential and commercial buildings.
“I can’t wait to get you all fixed up,” Tara says, grinning. “By the time I’m done with you, Liz is going to wish she looked like you.”
Her optimism is infectious. I feed off it to stabilize my emotions.
This is my life now.
My survival depends on how well I can play the role of Allie Clarke. To do that, I’ll have to narrow my focus and only think a few hours ahead at a time.
I can’t get wrapped up in the danger lurking around every corner.
If I try hard enough, I can turn this web of lies into a cocoon that will protect me.
ELEVEN
ALLIE
It’sthe morning of my first class.
I’ve been standing in front of the full-length mirror for the past few minutes. Tara didn’t spend the night here, so I’ve had enough alone time to think and orient myself.
My reflection is unfamiliar.
I’m dressed in a skin-tight turtleneck and a too-short plaid skirt with knee-high heeled boots. I’ve got red lipstick and eyeliner on, and my curls are now a deep flaxen blond. I think I look ridiculous, but I didn’t have a choice—Tara tossed all my clothes after our shopping trip turned makeover.
Taking a deep breath, I take myself through the practice paces Tara gave me.
How to walk, how to smile, how to make eye contact while I speak. Apparently, the Hemlock House Council and seniors will be assessing us in secret, even outside of the Trials of Admittance.
I’ll have to always make a good impression.
And apparently, looking like part of their Stepford Sisters cult is part of that.
When I’m done forcing myself through the exercises, I pull out my phone. My next class starts in an hour, so I have some time to kill. Tapping my feet on the floor, I thoughtlessly open my contacts and scroll to a familiar name.
I click the little camera to start a video call.
Now is as good a time as any to get some answers from him.
Uncle Laurent picks up on the second ring. He looks like he’s in the back of a town car. It should be very early in the morning in the US, so I’m surprised to see him up and about.
“Hello Allie,” he says. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s a sliver of concern on his face. “Are you okay?”
Though Uncle Laurent didn’t set any boundaries about contacting him, I got the impression that I should only call him in emergencies. To me, this is one.
“I don’t know, you tell me since you’re the one who sent me here to die!” The words fly out of me with such rage that even I’m stunned. My hand flies to my mouth.
Maybe I’m not as calm as I thought.
My outburst filters through him. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it.
“Speak quickly,” he says, his brow twisting in annoyance. “I’m on my way to a meeting.”
“This school is hellish, Uncle Laurent,” I say, moving over to sit on the edge of my bed. “Did you know how bad it would be?” How bloodthirsty these kids are?
“You called me to question my judgment?” he sneers. “If you follow the rules I gave you, you’ll leave there in a few months with your life, and some new experiences. Just settle down and enjoy it.”
