The Merciless (The Merciless #1)(44)

? ? ?

I nervously make my way through the crowd of kids inside, stopping in the kitchen to get a soda. When I turn around, Lila’s behind me. Her black hair hangs down over her narrow shoulders in a perfect, glossy sheet. Her red-painted lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“Wait.” Lila frowns, and her eyes shift to my hair. “You have something caught in your hair.”

Lila reaches forward and plucks something from my hair. The curl of her lips hardens as she pulls her hand away.

She’s holding a Q-tip.

Some of the kids behind her start to snicker, but Lila manages to keep a straight face as she asks, “Now, where did this come from, Greasy?”

More laughter. It bubbles up around me until I can’t tell who it’s coming from anymore. Cheeks burning, I push past Lila.

Everybody at the party is staring at me, laughing behind their hands and into their beer cups. I try to move forward, but the kids in front of me crowd together, blocking my path.

“Where are you going, Greasy?” a girl with frizzy red hair asks. She tosses a Q-tip at me, and it gets caught on my sweater.

Another Q-tip soars across the room and hits me in the cheek. A third flies past my arm. Before I know it, everyone’s throwing Q-tips and laughing. Horrified, I cover my face with my hands, but still they catch in my hair and on my clothes. I finally find a break in the crowd and force my way through the people—and run right into Karen.

She’s standing next to Erin, holding a beer.

“Come on, Sofia,” she says, breaking out into a grin. “Take a joke.”

I stare, dumbfounded, as she lifts her hand and tosses a Q-tip right at me. It bounces off my chest and drops to the floor.

? ? ?

“Sofia, are you okay?” Grace loosens her hold on the backpack. I could take it from her now, but instead I lean against the wall. Sweat forms on the back of my neck.

With my eyes closed I smell the stale beer that coated the floors in that house, I hear the cruel laughter and the distant roar of the train. After that night I promised myself I’d never go to another party, never again be friends with girls who laughed at other people’s pain. Now I’m trapped in an attic, and the only way I’m getting out is by reliving the worst night of my life.

“I’m fine,” I say, easing my eyes back open. Grace nods sympathetically, but I don’t meet her eyes—I’m staring at the backpack. I was wrong; there is another way out of here. I just have to find those pills.

Alexis’s voice rises into a yell. “It’s not like Brooklyn’s saying it was!” Alexis looks from Brooklyn to Riley, and her lower lip begins to tremble. “Riley, you know how Carly is,” she pleads.

Riley swirls the wine in the bottle, watching liquid slosh up against the sides of the glass. “I know you guys are really competitive.”

“Exactly,” Alexis says. “But it’s not even a competition, because Carly always wins. Carly got into Stanford, and Carly’s boyfriend is perfect. Do you have any idea what it’s like hearing about how wonderful she is all the time?”

Alexis sobs and lowers her head to her hands. Her hair sweeps over her face like a curtain.

“Come on, Alexis,” Riley says. She takes another swig from the bottle, then wipes the wine off her top lip with the back of her hand. “Finish the story. Tell us what happened next.”

Sniffling, Alexis pushes the hair from her face. “It was an accident, like I said. Carly has a really bad peanut allergy. She has to carry an EpiPen wherever she goes. Last year she and my mom went on a juice cleanse to get ready for the annual charity gala my mom runs, and the only things they could eat were these gross smoothies made from spinach and lemon juice. One day I just . . . I snuck a peanut into Carly’s smoothie. Just one.”

Alexis’s admission shocks me so much that I forget about the night of the party and Grace’s pills—everything but what she just said.

“You poisoned your sister on purpose?” I ask. I think about what my grandmother always said about confession as Alexis studies our faces, looking for sympathy.

“Words, they have power, mija. When you say your sin out loud, you admit it to yourself as well as to God.”

If I were Alexis, I’d have taken that secret to the grave, no matter what Riley or Brooklyn said.

“She was supposed to have her EpiPen with her!” Alexis continues. “Once she took her shot she’d have been fine. My parents would have made her stay home to rest like they always did when she had a reaction. I could have gone to the gala in her place. But she didn’t take her EpiPen that day, because it didn’t fit into the stupid designer bag she wanted to carry. So instead of getting sick, she . . .”

“She went into a coma,” Grace says.

Alexis grabs for another strand of her hair, but Riley slaps her hand away. “You’re sick,” she says.

“Stop it!” Alexis yells. “You’re drunk!”

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me.” Riley’s eyes are red-rimmed, but I can’t tell if it’s from the wine or the shock of what Alexis just admitted.

“Why not?” Alexis’s voice trembles. “I’m not the only one who’s sinned.”

Riley slaps her. Alexis’s head snaps to the side, and her hands fly to her face. When she turns back to Riley, her mouth hangs open in shock.