The Ivy: Secrets by Lauren Kunze, Rina Onur Read Free Book Online Page B

there.
    “Nah,” said Gregory, starting to turn. “She’s just my neighbor.”
    They retreated down the hall and the giggling faded. Callie, her back against the wall, watched the ménage à gross disappear from view. Then, she let her knees give out. Slowly she sank to the floor.
    How— how —could I have been so stupid ? she thought, her fingers knotting through her hair. How could she have ever let herself believe that she was special, that she might be the exception that would break the rule? She was disposable, single-serving (but not good enough for the two-for-one special): used and then tossed, just like everybody else.
    I should have known better, she thought. Gregory is, was, and always will be officially, unequivocally, and with no exceptions, EVIL.
    “Hello-ooh, Gregory . . . and company,” a voice said from the stairwell. Callie cringed. She could recognize that simpering trill anywhere, even if it had a bizarre chemical reaction with airborne testosterone that made it two octaves higher. Even if it weren’t accompanied by the distinctive stomp and click of dainty high heels bearing the weight of excessive curves and—in this particular case—the jingling of bells and bling that embellished what Vanessa fondly referred to as her “motorcycle boots.” ( Motorcycle boots? Callie had asked last October, before all hell had broken loose. But you don’t drive a motorcycle, do you? Vanessa had given her that typical what-planet-are-you-from look before saying exasperatedly, Callie, Christian Lacroix doesn’t make motorcycles. These are motorcycle boots.)
    The boots in question were now making their way down the hall. They stopped where Callie sat crumpled on the floor. She probably should have tried to run when she heard them coming, but she lacked the will to move. The velvet bows fluttered, rhinestones (diamonds?) gleamed, golden bells jingled, and black leather crinkled as Vanessa shifted on her feet.
    “Sucks, doesn’t it?” said Vanessa unsympathetically, digging into her oversized, black Chanel Cambon in search of her keys. “Just another proverbial notch on the old bunk bed post,” she muttered as she continued rooting through her bag. “Frankly I’m just glad it wasn’t me—”
    “It’s unlocked,” Callie cut in, staring vacantly ahead.
    “What? Oh,” said Vanessa, slinging her purse back up her shoulder. For some reason her boots weren’t moving. Callie could sense Vanessa’s gaze lingering on her, but she kept her eyes glued to an invisible spot on the opposite wall.
    Vanessa cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice sounded softer. “Um . . . are you going to get up anytime soon?”
    “Don’t have a definite relocation plan for the near future, no,” Callie mumbled. She had been aiming for sarcastic but had hit somewhere inside the pathetic-hopeless range instead.
    Vanessa still wasn’t moving. She was quiet for a moment. “Here,” she finally said, leaning down and extending her hand.
    Callie looked up and found herself staring into the face of her former friend: a shadow of the old Vanessa before she had transmogrified into her evil, backstabbing, status-obsessed alter ego. Vanessa’s fingers fluttered: a white flag ruffling in the breeze.
    Callie hesitated. She took a deep breath and started to reach for Vanessa’s hand when—
    Beep beep beep!
    1 NEW TEXT MESSAGE
    Gregory writing to say he’d made a gigantic sex take and was on his way back.
    Or Clint writing to say he knew everything and he forgave her and was on his way over.
    Or . . . Reality, which was:
    F ROM A LEXIS T HORNDIKE
G REAT JOB TODAY, C ALLIE ! I HOPE
YOU ’ LL KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.
L OOKING FORWARD TO LUNCH
TOMORROW. D OES 1:30 WORK FOR
YOU ? S EE YOU THEN ! XXX L EXI
    Callie snapped her phone shut and pushed herself to her feet, bypassing Vanessa’s hand. Shake and make up with Vanessa? The very girl who had sold her secrets to Lexi in the first place? I don’t think so!
    “This,”