If You Could See the Sun (87)

All things considered, I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Madam Yao has no problem identifying Chanel right away, but it still makes my fingers curl.

“Oh, nothing, really,” Chanel replies, her voice breezy. “But I wouldn’t underestimate the power of a single article if I were you. Don’t you know how easy it is for things to go viral these days? Especially when they’re posted onto a platform with twenty million active followers?”

At last, a small crack in Madam Yao’s stony mask. “I’m afraid you will have to be more specific. What is this...platform you are speaking of?”

Henry steps in, his arm resting deliberately on the back of my chair: a casual reminder to everyone that he’s on my side. “Well, as you may know, Madam Yao, my father runs the biggest tech start-up in all of China.” For once, I don’t correct him with second biggest. “We have a mass following across our many apps, as well as various social media accounts. Connections to the media. Resources we could access in an instant...”

“And not to brag, but we’re both kind of popular in our social circles,” Chanel chimes in, smiling sweetly. “I know like, forty international kids from my school in Australia who are thinking of coming back to Beijing to study. I was planning on recommending Airington to them and their families, but now, seeing the way you’re treating my dear friend Alice... I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not so sure, either,” Henry says, all solemn, and I have to swallow back a bubble of hysterical laughter at the look on Madam Yao’s face. Her lips are almost invisible. “My father and I may be forced to reconsider whether Airington even deserves all those donated buildings. In fact, I don’t know if I want to stay at a school that favors some students over others.”

“I’m also not sure,” Andrew offers. Everyone turns to stare at him. “What?” he says defensively, sliding lower in his seat. “I thought we were doing a thing.”

“Yeah, and you just ruined the thing, Andrew.” Chanel rolls her eyes. “You’re not part of this.”

Andrew scowls. “I’m never part of anything.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped hiring people to kidnap your classmates...” Chanel mutters.

“I obviously wouldn’t have had to hire anyone if I were in like, a squad,” Andrew protests. “I bet the members of BTS could just call each other to help out with that kind of stuff.”

“Andrew,” Henry says on an exasperated sigh. “You have grossly misunderstood the point Chanel was trying to make.”

“As well as like, the general situation,” Chanel adds.

Madam Yao clears her throat loudly.

“Right. So sorry, Madame Yao,” Chanel says, applying just enough sarcasm to her voice to get away with it. “Back to what we were saying—”

Madam Yao raises one pale manicured hand in the air. A ridiculously large emerald ring gleams on her middle finger, beneath a thin band of sparkling diamonds. “You’ve said quite enough, Ms. Cao. All of you have.”

“And?” Chanel prompts, totally unfazed. “What do you think?”

I hold my breath, my heart punching my ribs.

I’m only around seventy-eight percent certain how Madam Yao will respond, which, statistically speaking, isn’t the best odds. But if there’s anything I’ve learned from my time running Beijing Ghost, it’s that the people here care about reputation above all else. Reputation is currency, a source of power. The same way that money is only valuable because everyone deems it so, Airington is only considered elite and exclusive because rich parents keep wanting to send their kids here.

That would change pretty quickly if we made good on our threats.

“I think,” Madam Yao begins, her words laced with equal parts venom and resignation, “that Sun Yan here has proven just how...important she is to the Airington student body, and how much she has to say on the subject. The school board will review her and Andrew’s involvement in the kidnapping accordingly. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” The chair squeaks as she pushes back her seat and rises, straightening her already-immaculate silk blouse with a grimace. “It appears I have a few calls to make.”

And just like that, she’s off, her kitten heels clacking every step of the way to the door.

Once she leaves, the temperature in the room seems to warm by a few degrees. I stretch in my seat and exhale a long, tired breath. I hadn’t realized how tense my muscles were until now.

Andrew looks around at us hopefully. “So, uh, do you guys want to hang out for a bit or—”

“Andrew, again, you’re not part of this,” Chanel interrupts, hands on her hips. “And shouldn’t you be, like, taking this time to reflect on your actions?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grumbles, his face falling. “Kidnapping is bad. Being a criminal is rough. Never hire smart people to do your dirty work for you.”

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please just go.”

As Andrew slides out of his chair, still sulking and muttering under his breath the whole time, I turn to Henry and Chanel.

“Thank you guys so much,” I say, instantly hating how awkward I sound. “It really... It means a lot. And Chanel—I’m sorry to have messaged you so last-minute. And for kind of ghosting you these past few weeks. I swear I—”