Page 139 of Broken Doll

I run a brush through my dark locks, straightened to perfection after an hour of work. Collecting my hair into a long, low pony, I drape it forward over one shoulder. After smoothing on a thin layer of product to enhance shine and tame flyaways, I head out of my bathroom.

My brothers step back and look me over. They’ve all gathered outside my door wearing slacks and buttoned shirts to fit the dress code. I feel bad for them, having to wear pants and long-sleeved shirts in this heat.

“Is that lipstick too dark?” King asks.

“It’s what I always wear,” I tell him, making a kissy-face. “My signature.”

“Is that skirt shorter than your uniform at our old school?” he asks, eyeing my hemline.

I’m excited to be able to wear real clothes here, since Willow Heights has a strict dress code but no uniform. “Stop looking at my legs, perv,” I say, pushing past them and out of my bedroom.

By some silent agreement, we all climb into Royal’s new Range Rover, a “gift” from Daddy that was more like a bribe to come here without making a fuss. I’d expected them to each take their own car to show off, but maybe my brothers are as nervous as I am.

They’d never show it, though.

“Look at this pathetic little town,” Duke says as we pull out of our opulent neighborhood and start toward the school. “We’re going to rule this school the second we step through the doors.”

“Not me,” I say, my voice sounding light though I was too nervous to even think about breakfast. If I’ve learned anything in the past year, it’s that power can be a dangerous thing. I don’t want to rule anymore, and I told my brothers as much. They don’t get it, but they’re trying to be understanding. They’ve never wanted to be normal. They love the power.

I have to admit, I loved it, too. I loved it until the moment I saw what it could do. Until the moment I lost control of it. But here? No one knows me. I could be normal. Have a friend who didn’t know the worst things about me, our shared guilt hanging between us like a noose. Maybe I could even have a boyfriend, someone my brothers actually liked instead of one they allowed to escort me to some function and then promptly dismissed like a servant.

Things will be better here, like Daddy promised. A new start is just what we all need.

We pull into the parking lot, and my chest tightens, my resolve crumbling. How easy it would be to march down the hall like I put theBinQueen B.I’ve been that girl so long, it’s my default. But no more. Here, I’ll be different. Better.

“Ready, Crystal?” Royal asks.

“What if I’m not?” I whisper, meeting his pure cacao eyes when he twists around in his seat.

“Relax, would you?” Baron asks, shoving my shoulder. “This school is a joke. One day here, and everyone will be eating out of our hands.”

“Or licking our shoes,” King says, glancing at us in the rearview mirror.

“I got something else the hot ones can lick,” Duke says, grabbing himself for emphasis.

King pulls into a parking spot at the back of the lot, halfway under the shade of a towering oak. I know he’s doing it for me, parking back here so we can talk without prying eyes checking out the new guys. Otherwise, my brothers would be parking front and center, soaking up the attention. They’re not exactly the slip-in-unnoticed type. They couldn’t be if they tried, so they don’t bother trying.

“I guarantee you, anything this tiny town has going on can’t even touch what goes on in our old school,” King says, turning to pat my knee. “We’re gonna take this place by storm in a matter of minutes, and you know why?”

“Because we’re the Dolces,” I mutter.

“Yeah we are,” Duke and Baron yelled in unison, pumping their fists in the air. They’re identical, but they’ve taken great pains to distinguish themselves at this school. Baron even wears a pair of glasses instead of his usual contacts, and Duke got his hair cut short, forsaking their usual tousled look.

“Let’s go kick ass,” King says.

I know they’ve reached their limits in dealing with my anxiety, so I take a deep breath and center myself by meeting Royal’s eyes again. He’s the quietest of my brothers, my twin, the one who can always calm me down when I start to lose it.

We climb out of the Range Rover, and I straighten my skirt and smooth my hair as we get into formation. King is the center of our family, the center of our group. Royal and I step up beside him, and my younger brothers each fall in at opposite ends, the first line of defense. I don’t know when we created this formation, but it’s as predictable as a football formation on the field. We’re ready. With a nod, King sets the play in motion, and we start across the lot.

“Thank the baby Jesus the girls here aren’t ugly,” Duke says as we pass a group of girls primping next to a pickup truck. They stop to gawk, and Duke shoots them an inviting smile.

My brothers are, to put it mildly, noticeable. They’re all over six feet and built like the athletes they are. To add to that, they all inherited our parents’ good looks—in spades.

We make it toward the front of the lot, the primo parking spaces designated for the students who want to pay for a spot, each with a big yellow number painted on the asphalt. There, I spot the long, sleek, powder-blue classic convertible that cut us off the day we moved in.

Our neighbor. Considering where they live, it’s no surprise that they have the best spot in the entire lot, right next to the walkway that leads to the door of Willow Heights Prep. They probably paid through the nose for that. Suddenly, I’m glad we parked at the back. We can scout out the school this way. It’s always good to know the ones to watch, even if you’re planning to become the ones to watch.

Three guys stand leaning against the car as if waiting for us. I scan their faces, trying to recognize the boy I saw last night. A blond guy with strong, angular features leans casually against the rear of the car, one foot on the ground and the other propped on the bumper, his hands resting on the edge of the trunk.

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