The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(66)

Oh, shit. I look to Zen, and then Kacey, my jaw practically on the floor. “Uhhh…sure. I just—”

“Actually, we were just about to pay a visit to the little girl’s room,” Kacey says sweetly. “You know how us women can only go in packs of three. We’ll be back soon, though, Mr. MVP. I’m sure you can spin Silver one of your cheesy pick-up lines then.” She already has me by the arm. She’s pulling me away, stalking toward the stairs in her skyscraper patent pumps before I can even blink. We’re halfway up to the first floor by the time I’m about to make my mouth form words.

“Kacey! What the hell?”

She looks back at me over her shoulder, her eyes glinting wickedly. “What? You literally just said, ‘I don’t care about Jacob Weaving.’ I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“You’re such a cow, Kacey. You know she wants him bad,” Zen titters.

There’s a line for the restroom, but Kacey breezes right past, dragging me along behind her. Perfectly timed, the door opens just as we arrive in front of it, and Kacey shoots an icy glare at the guy standing next in line—Gareth Foster: Chess team. Dork.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she purrs.

Kacey’s probably never made eye contact with Gareth before in her life. He looks like he just soiled himself. “Uh, no. Of course not. Go right ahead.”

We’re already inside the bathroom. She’s already slamming the door closed. She dumps her tiny purse on the counter, opening it and rooting inside. “Look, Silver. I’m not saying I think Jacob’s a jackass, but…he is. You know that, right? He definitely is a jackass.”

God, she’s so melodramatic. I use the toe of my shoe to knock the toilet lid down, then I lay a towel over it and sit down. The dress I’m wearing—one of Kacey’s. She insisted—is a little too tight. I have to sit ramrod straight to avoid the fabric cutting the circulation off to my legs.

“He’s arrogant, sure,” I say. “But I don’t know about anything else. I heard his mom paid for Jessica Birch’s plastic surgery after she was in that fire last year.”

“The mother’s philanthropic gestures have no bearing on the son,” Kacey says chidingly. “Jake probably wouldn’t have pissed on Jessica if he’d been standing outside that boat shed and she’d come running out aflame. Where’s Halliday and Melody?” She adds this last part as if she’s only just noticed that they’re missing.

“With Guy and Davis,” Zen supplies. The way she hands over the information suggests our friends are up to no good.

“God.” Kacey hurls the lipstick she just pulled out of her purse back inside, frowning as she searches for something else. “How do they know who they’re even fucking?” she mumbles.

Guy and Davis are twins. Identical twins. They’ve been dating Halliday and Melody for the past six months, and according to the girls, the twins do like to assume each other’s identities.

“I don’t think it matters this time,” Zen laughs. “All four of them are in Leon’s father’s room, and from what I saw, they weren’t being overly picky about who was tangled up with who.”

Kacey looks up, her head rocking to one side as she processes this. “Huh. That actually sounds like it could be fun. Bummer Leon’s an only child.”

“There’s always Mr. Wickman,” I offer.

“Silver!” Kacey feigns surprise. “How scandalous. Mr. Wickman does have a certain sex appeal. There's nothing more attractive than a man who's gone after his goals and amassed a great deal of power and money in his lifetime. But no. Leon's too much of a prude to ever consider it.”

I was only joking. I didn’t think she’d take the suggestion seriously, but I shouldn’t be all that surprised. Kacey’s sexual deviant tendencies run deep.

She finally finds what she’s looking for in her bag and holds the small black compact up triumphantly. “Hallelujah. Now we can finally start to enjoy this party.” She flips the compact open and instead of blusher, inside is a large amount of coke. She pulls a razor blade from the back of her phone case and serves up a large amount of the powder onto the compact’s mirror, cutting it into a line.

Zen goes first. She holds the back of her hand to her nose after she snorts, eyes closed, head tipped back, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Hot damn. Your stuff is always the best, Kay Kay.”

“My body's a temple. I wouldn't go putting any old trash inside it. Here, Silver.” She holds out the compact to me, a line ready and waiting. I was fourteen when Kacey gave me my first taste of coke. It had been a dare back then, but over the past three years, it's become more of a habit—for Kacey at least. I only use with her at parties. I’m pretty sure Kace is powdering her nose at least two or three times a day. I don’t talk to her about it. The two times I’ve suggested that she might want to save her stash for more recreational purposes, she flipped out so violently I thought she was going to have a fucking nervous breakdown.

I’m tired. I don’t really feel like getting crazy tonight, but Zen’s kind of fucked me. I can’t decline the drugs, because she did her line without complaint. If I refuse, they’re both going to be on me, harassing me, giving me a hard time. I’ve learned that it’s much easier to just do one line and then claim to have a headache than refuse altogether.