Pretty Reckless (All Saints High 1)

“You’re not going to help me retrieve the journal,” I whisper, realization dawning on me.

“Of course, I will. After all, I am your savior.”

You’re my demise.

“How did you know they’d be here?” My lips tremble, and I sniff. I’m keeping the tears at bay and getting good at doing it.

“Bauer,” he says simply. “I’m the puppet master, Daria. I play you all, keeping your strings tight and short. Gus would never defy me. Now, we can do it the right way and make Penn see that he needs to throw the game. I’ll recover your journal—I will even get Gus to hand it back to me personally. Or we can do it the wrong way, where the journal comes out and we’re done.”

“Done?” I blink. He still thinks there’s an “us.” Unbelievable.

He slides the length of the bench between us and cups my cheek. I want to bite his hand off.

“Adultery is the greatest sin of all, but I am willing to forgive you. You are, after all, terribly young and impressionable.”

So many things slam into me at once. This psycho actually thinks I cheated on him. And he is in on it with Gus. He is so desperate for our school to win, to justify the insane amount of money spent on the Saints, that he is actually making pacts with a teenage bully.

“Why do you think I have a hold on Penn? You said it yourself. He is in love with someone else.” I turn to him. Ripping my gaze from Penn and Adriana is like taking off a Band-Aid. I can hear her laughter bouncing on the trees. It’s everywhere, and I can’t escape it. Her happiness is my misery.

“Because”—he turns to me—“you’ll tell the whole world he lives with you if he doesn’t. You will blackmail him, my darling.”

My mouth falls open. The consequences are clear.

He’ll lose his captain badge.

Get kicked off his football team.

And his friends and peers would hate him for living on the right side of the tracks without fessing up about it.

“Sylvia told Gus about her brother’s little secret,” he explains calmly. “Teenage hearts are highly traitorous, but it worked to my advantage in the end. See, after your stint in the girls’ locker room, I sent the message across to lover boy that he was not to put his hands on you anymore. Now, after it is obvious that he has, I have no choice but to retaliate. And what’s more beautiful than killing his future and having him suspended from the team?”

Every hair on my body stands on end.

Via betrayed Penn. She destroyed his acceptance letter, so to speak. She never wanted to come back to start over. She came back to get even.

“Tell me you understand, that you will comply, and that this matter is sorted, Miss Followhill.” He stands up, parking his hands on his waist. His crotch is in my face, and I feel the need to throw up again.

I have an epiphany at that moment. I know what I need to do to save everyone.

Penn.

Adriana.

Harper.

Bailey.

Most of all—myself.

I nod, my heart hardening as I come to terms with what I have to do.

“Crystal clear, Principal Prichard.”

I crawl to my room with what little energy I have left. Every bone in my body is sore. My muscles are stiff, and my butt burns with each step I take.

The house is quiet. Bailey and Melody are at ballet. Dad’s at work. Penn—probably still at practice, or with Adriana and Harper. I don’t even have it in me to feel relieved that Via isn’t here. I haven’t seen the hideous pink Jeep she ended up accepting (“Mel, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me! So, so beautiful, thank you!”), and there’s no sign of anyone else in the house.

Pushing my door open, the sour scent of alcohol and wine fills my nostrils, and I stumble back, my spine hitting the opposite wall.

As the door creaks ajar, I get a better view of my room and see the reason for the odor. My bare toes are soaked and sticky on the floor.

My champagne aquarium wall is shattered. The hammer Via used is still hanging in the middle of the glass, from which the pink champagne filters down, making a hissing sound of a freshly opened beer bottle.

I stagger inside, supporting myself on random furniture. I’m trying to open my eyes all the way, but the skin around them is too swollen and tender. As I enter deeper into my room, I notice a piece of cream-colored paper stuck to a wet piece of glass that’s still standing in the aquarium. I recognize the note instantly. It was torn from my journal. I pluck it out.

Tell them it was an accident

Or your mom will find out you killed her dream, too.