In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(46)

I spun, but Caro beat me to it.

“You!” she yelled, pointing at Courtney. “You did it!”

Courtney looked like a deer caught in headlights. All of a sudden she turned to bolt, but Caro—tiny Caro—sprang and knocked her to the ground.

“Caro, Jesus!” Mint knelt and pulled Caro off his wife.

Caro thrust her finger in Courtney’s face. “She’s guilty.”

“Give her a chance to defend herself.” Mint looked at his wife. “Babe?”

Courtney blinked at him, then turned to look around the circle of faces, searching for an ally, a single measure of sympathy. That day freshman year echoed back—the one where she’d tried to humiliate me but Heather had stepped in to stop it. Heather wasn’t here anymore.

Courtney’s eyes found mine. Her stare was murderous. A chill crept up my neck.

“Fine,” she said, taking me by surprise. “I drugged Heather. Are you happy?”





Chapter 20


February, senior year

Courtney

If ever someone was born to wear a crown, it was Courtney Kennedy. She of the glossy blond hair, regal face, and astounding proportions. And she knew it, which was important, because other people wasted so much time demurring. Every Valentine’s Day since freshman year, she’d watched girls get crowned Phi Delt Sweetheart—always a Chi O, always a senior—and she knew, with unshakable certainty, that one day it would be hers.

That day was today.

The Phi Delt basement was packed with brothers. They’d dragged in a keg and were doing keg stands, following with shots of whiskey. Tonight was no regular night. The Sweetheart Ball was a famous party, and this year was going to be bigger than ever, because Mint was president, and Mint and his real estate money did everything bigger and better than anyone else.

Courtney watched Mint from across the room, ignoring the small crowd of guys who’d gathered around her, trying to get her attention, trying to get in her pants. There was never a shortage of boys, and tonight—well, tonight she was extraordinary. A skintight red dress, red lips, the perfect amount of tasteful cleavage. A look that screamed I am your Sweetheart, your college queen.

It didn’t matter how many boys surrounded her, because to Courtney there was only one who mattered. Mark Minter. If there was ever a boy born to be with Courtney, it was him. Gorgeous, heir to a fortune, practically Duquette royalty. She would never understand why he’d dated Jessica Miller, that absolute nonperson, since freshman year. That was the frustrating thing about life: sometimes the losers won, for absolutely no discernible reason.

Sometimes people met freshman year and banded together into stupid groups like the East House Seven, and cut you out of the deal right before they rode to campus glory. Just because of some stupid comment she’d made to Jessica—as if no one else in the history of the world ever teased each other—they’d forged this thing without her, even though she lived in the same dorm, in the same room as one of them, and was Courtney Kennedy to boot.

Mint was talking to Frankie, that giant oaf, when he looked over and caught her staring. Courtney smiled her best smile, and he smiled back. She lifted her Solo cup to say cheers, and he echoed her, taking a sip. Even after Courtney looked away, then slid her eyes back, his gaze lingered. He was going to be hers one day; she could feel it.

Maybe that day was today.

She was about to walk over, leaving the circle of boys—who were still talking, maybe even asking her questions—when Heather stumbled down the stairs, practically tripping into Courtney’s arms.

“Christ, Heather.” Courtney shooed the boys away and righted her friend. “What’s your damage?”

Heather hiccupped, which was not a good sign. In fact, now that Courtney could get a good look at her, something was definitely wrong. Heather was never going to win any beauty pageants, let’s be honest, but the girl had a zero-limit credit card, thanks to her doctor mom, and could usually pull herself together. But now, even though Heather’s pink chiffon dress was cute and obviously designer, her mascara was smeared and her nose red, like she’d been crying. Courtney felt a reflexive kick of worry and glanced around, trying to see who’d noticed Heather in this state.

Heather followed her eyes around the basement, clocking Mint and Frankie, and pulled Courtney into a corner. “It’s Jack,” she said, her voice low and thick with feeling. “He just broke up with me, and I’m freaking out.”

“What?” Now this was news. Jack and Heather were like Mint and Jessica—permanent fixtures, practically Duquette institutions, despite being totally mismatched. Courtney had always been able to see it, even if no one else could. It sounded like Jack was finally coming to his senses.

Heather nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “He told me—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s been cheating on me. We got into a huge fight, and I didn’t know where else to go. I figured everyone would be here.”

Well, would you look at that. Courtney wasn’t surprised at all. It seemed perfectly believable that Jack would find someone prettier than Heather. It had to be another Chi O. She wondered who…

“Where’s Jess?” Heather’s eyes scanned the crowd. “I need to talk to her.”

Courtney bristled. “You don’t need Jessica. I’m your best friend. You can talk to me.”