Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(5)
I met Ava in sophomore year, when she transferred to Niveus from some posh private school in England. She’s this pretty, blond bombshell who everyone immediately took a liking to, with her British accent and her straightforward persona. I actually don’t mind hanging around her that much. Unlike Ruby, she’s nice and honest—most of the time.
“The new head is kind of scary. Where’s he even from?” I ask, shoving my purse into my locker, glad to not have to continue playing this exhausting game with Ruby so early in the morning. I can’t wait to go to class and get away from her snide remarks.
Most people think the three of us are friends, since we’re almost always seen together.
But we’re not friends.
Our relationship is a transaction. I need a close, attractive circle. Small, because the smaller your group, the less people know about you—and the more they want to know. And, in return, Ava and Ruby like how powerful the three of us are together.
Ruby perks up, the way she always does whenever she has information that I don’t. Her fiery curls light up as she beams, leaning in. “I hear he’s from England, used to be the headmaster at some strict private boarding school.”
“I didn’t even know Headmaster Collins was stepping down,” I say, annoyed that I have to restart all the work I’ve put in over the past three years with him. Especially given Headmaster Ward’s unwelcoming, icy demeanor. I grab some ChapStick from my pocket just as someone taps my shoulder. I turn to face a familiar bright-eyed sophomore carrying a cup holder with two drinks.
“Morning, Chi. I got you a soy latte and a cinnamon latte on my way to school. Wasn’t sure which you’d prefer … I remembered from last year that you liked them both, but if you change your mind, I can bring you something else tomorrow,” she says, cheeks flushed as she rambles. I take the cinnamon one, relief spreading across her face.
“Thank you, Rachel,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee and turning back to Ruby and Ava.
“Actually, it’s Moll—”
“He seemed fine before summer,” I continue.
“I heard Collins had some kind of nervous breakdown,” Ava chimes in, and I shoot her a look that makes her shrink back a little. I understand Ruby knowing things I don’t; she always has her claws in other people’s business. But Ava too? I’ve clearly been slacking over the summer.
Before I can pry further, my vision goes dark, hands clamped over my eyes. I don’t have to see to know it’s Jamie.
“Guess who,” he says in a low voice. A part of me hopes the people in the hallway are watching. I can almost hear their thoughts … Did Chiamaka and Jamie get together over the summer? They’d make the perfect couple. I’d kill to be Chiamaka … All of them, drowning in envy. I smile at the possibility.
“Hmm … Tall, dark, handsome, and missing billions of brain cells?” I say.
The hands slip away and I can see again; Ruby’s face is unsurprised and Ava gives a sly smile.
“Correct,” he says, before kissing my head and ruffling my hair like I’m his dog or his little sister. I hope no one saw that. I smooth my hair, avoiding Ruby’s and Ava’s gazes.
“We should probably head to class,” Ruby says, and I can hear the delight in her voice. She loves any moment of weakness she can find, and I guess my only weak spot, despite all the hard work I’ve put into being perfect, is the fact that Jamie is still my best friend and not my boyfriend.
For now, anyway.
I force a smile. “Ruby’s right. Don’t want to make a bad impression on the new headmaster, especially now that I’ve been made Senior Head Prefect—not that that was a surprise.”
Jamie laughs, shaking his head. “You’re too cocky. What made you so sure you were gonna get it this year?”
I shrug even though I know why I was so sure. Every year since sophomore year—freshmen can’t be prefects—I’ve been Head Prefect. It’s not luck, it’s science. I deserve it, no matter what anyone says.
I get straight As, and I’m the president of debate club, Young Medics, and model UN. I can speak four languages, five if you count English, and I’m going to Yale for pre-med, or at least that’s the plan. There’s no one else who makes more sense for the role of Senior Head Prefect than I do—and there’s no one else who’s worked harder for it.
Head Prefect is the icing on the cake. It tells universities like Yale that I care about Niveus—which I do—and that I’m a leader—which I am. I’m more than qualified for Head Prefect. Even though I know I shouldn’t care, it annoys me that when girls know what they want and how they’re going to get it, they’re seen as cocky. But guys who know what they want? They’re confident or strong. The reason I should be Head Prefect is because I’ve earned it, and Jamie out of everyone should know that.
I know he probably didn’t mean it that way, though, so I brush off his comment as we head out of the crowded hallway. As I’ve come to expect over the past three years, the sea of blue parts; people move aside as we pass through, drinking in our faces, clothes, and hair. I always opt for a simple look: today it’s black thigh-high socks, a velvet Dolce & Gabbana jacket, and suede Jimmy Choo pumps. The more it looks like you didn’t try, the better. I place my hand in my blazer pocket, feeling the badge again, the one thing to show for all my achievements. Everything I’ve overcome.