Chapter 11
The brownstone towered above us, eating up what appeared to be most of a city block, nearly the size of Pullman. I blinked up at the elaborate facade with awe and reverence, thinking when their family died off, maybe some other private school would buy the estate.
Wealth didn’t intimidate me anymore, at least. Not since I created the Poor Relation to berate the people who hurt me for being poor.
Somewhere in creating dialogue for her, it stopped being the end game for me.
Love is what matters. Self-determination.
The Lents showed me both were possible. I smiled a secretive smile as we headed up the steps, thinking about my secret life with their family, who maintained constant secrecy about something so pivotal to who they were as people.
Money isn’t as scary when you know secrets, I decided.
Teenagers pushed in and out of the front door, nudging past each other as they passed.
Someone wearing a Pullman uniform slid down the banister, hit the ground then laughed to get up and repeat the ride.
The level of noise before entering meant they didn’t give a shit about authorities getting called, which usually said a lot about a party.
Truly the purview of the very, very wealthy.
“This is huge,” I muttered to myself, as if I had to at least confess it aloud.
Julian chuckled and said, “They make us seem like we’re the Poor Relation.”
“Really?” I couldn’t imagine anyone making him feel small.
He laughed outright. “Hell yes. My uncle Stephen always tells us how we should remember there’s richer, hotter, more successful people than us. We should always remember that although we eat those who would harm us, there are people who can just as easily eat us, too.”
I didn’t want to attend that kind of party, if I was honest. I wasn't interested in swimming with sharks, and I certainly didn’t want to swim in waters where sharks feared to swim. Still, I followed them inside with my mask in place, hoping we weren’t stumbling into some kind of trap.
I hoped my expression would come across as distant and unapproachable, yet not overall interesting in the first place. It worked in Chicago, at least until Ted destroyed things for me.
As soon as we passed the threshold of the doorway, someone called, “Barrett!”
The oldest Lent genuinely smiled as he got swallowed by a group of what appeared to be his actual friends.
“I heard you’re not sleeping there. I’m so jealous,” I overheard one of them say. “My parents made me do dorm life.”
I left him to it, following Phoenix, who stopped to greet a bunch of people I at least recognized from school.
I didn’t know their names, but they were familiar enough faces, especially compared to the seniors, who were totally new to me.
Normally, they stayed in their own hallway, so I never saw them.
Phoenix said, “Hey, I need to meet up with someone. I’ll come find you shortly, or send someone after me if you want to leave early.”
“Have fun,” I said, resisting the urge to kiss him goodbye by only about a heartbeat.
His gaze said he saw my hesitation and recognized it before I covered it, so he squeezed my fingers quickly.
“Thank you. You mean everything.”
As he vanished into the crowd, I spotted the twins surrounded by their teammates. I didn’t see my own team, so I thought about joining them for about a second.
A hand grabbed me, and I spun to face Bethany. “Alatheia!” she practically screamed. “I am so happy you’re here.”
If her breath didn’t give it away, I saw a beer in her hand as she wobbled into me. Okay, she’s drunk. Then again, that seemed the consensus rather than the unusual for the crowd. “Bethany,” I smiled, glad of the familiar face. I added, “Are you okay?”
She pointed at me. “I am so good. So. Good.” Her smile got bigger. “I knew we had to be friends after I understood. Because I get it.”
It? At least one of us knew what she meant. “It?”
“I get it,” she repeated loudly as Tiffany arrived, slinging an arm around my shoulder.
Instead of greeting me, she considered Bethany. “I can’t figure you out, Bethy. I really can’t.”
“Don’t try.” Bethany flung her hair over her shoulder and vanished into the crowd again, as mysterious as a ghost. I still didn’t know what she meant, but perhaps it was for the better.
Tiffany slurred, but less than Bethany. “So, how are you?” Before I could answer, her eyes lit up. ”Come with me. I want to show you something.”
She tugged my hand and led me from the room. I spotted Hal in a part in the crowd—standing in a corner watching us— but he vanished as quickly as he appeared, in the same crowd as Phoenix but not speaking. I bit my lip, unhappy since I knew why.
I found myself in an elegant parlor, and barely took in the vastness of it when she pointed upward. “Look.”
My mouth fell open, startlement taking my breath for a second. “Is that a Warhol?”
“It sure is.” She grinned then stared up at it. “No one ever cares or seems impressed when I show them, but I knew you’d get it.” She sipped her beer.
I still gaped, trying to take in my proximity to arguably one of the Great Works. “Is it real?”
“Oh, it’s real. I hear they have a second one upstairs, but I’ve never been invited up there. You have to get summoned upstairs to see Murial.”
Like some kind of queen. Their world struck me as so bizarre. “Do you fit in here?” I asked her, honestly curious. “I mean, are you on the outskirts of this world or do you fit? I just feel like the Poor Relation.”
Her smile was huge and she nudged her shoulder into mine.
“I love when you call yourself that. Speaking of which, maybe they’ll eventually do an episode on that.
Me, though? I fit, but I’m no Murial. I’m not even as important as your friends the Lents.
If it was a level system, I’m just under them, but I fit with them.
Doesn’t change the fact that I hate most of them, though.
Then again, I think we all kind of hate each other.
Doesn’t everyone kind of hate their friends, or is that just a high school thing? ”
That sounds…awful. “I don’t want to hate you.”
She shook her head, laughing. “You won’t, and I won’t hate you, because you’re different. I might fit into this world, but my plans don’t really involve it, if that makes sense. I want something else, so I think we’re safe to be friends who don’t secretly hate each other.”
A spark of sadness marred my mood. “I think most people—or at least people who don’t live like this—don’t hate their friends.”
“I hope you’re right.” She said then stared at me. “How do you know the Lents? No one knows. I heard all kinds of things, and I didn’t think I cared until this very moment.”
I ran a hand through my hair, a thousand possible answers rolling through my head before I said, “I am their granny’s companion.”
“What does that mean?” She said then shook her head. “Do you run errands for her or…”
Abruptly, she stopped speaking, turning her head to face the girl standing next to us who I didn’t even hear come into the room.
It took me a second to place her, but then I remembered I saw her over the summer.
She approached Julian on the street, having hooked up with Jer, but she couldn’t even tell them apart.
I never got her name, but I remembered her shoes. She wore the same kind of strappy sandals, her pinky toes pinched white from pressure. I instantly remembered her hair, with its constant beach wave and perfect brown color.
“Alatheia, right?” Her smile read as phony. “Murial wants to see you upstairs.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened, shock evident on her face. “Why?”
“Because she does.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Run along.” With a wiggle of her fingers, she dismissed Tiffany, who practically scampered away.
This place is so damn strange. “What if I don’t want to go upstairs? I’m good here.”
“It’s not really…optional?” She snapped her gum. “Follow me.”
I focused on her black, strappy shoes, vaguely different from the pink ones she wore when we first met, and followed her. I couldn’t help but think she must be in constant pain. Shoes say so much about a person, I reminded myself.
“What’s your name, anyway?” I asked her as she headed upstairs. I reminded myself as I followed her that Murial’s family could eat the Lents, meaning the repercussions of whatever happened upstairs wouldn't be something where they could save me. I was on my own, so to speak, yet again.
She tossed a smile over her shoulder, as if surprised I asked. “I’m Greer.”
Eyes seemed to pin me as I followed her up the stairs, and I glanced down to realize quite a few in the crowd stared with curiosity. I didn’t spot any Lents, so I pulled out my phone to text our group chat. Got summoned upstairs to Murial.
I didn’t even know who she was or what to expect. Greer pulled out a keycard and used it on the door before pulling an elevator open. I froze, staring at the box as if it were a bear trap.
“I’m not getting in that. I don’t know where you’re taking me.”
I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid.
Her hand squeezed my arm gently, nudging me into motion.
“I get it. Intimidating, right? Like I said, I get it. I understand your position, and I remember you. You’re the Lent grandmother’s companion, right?
” Something in her smile oozed poison. “It’s so kind how they’re being nice to you for her.
My family does things like that, too. We paid for our housekeeper’s daughter to go to college. ”
I almost lied and claimed my family was rich, but I stopped myself, figuring she would know better anyway.
I didn’t even know how I was related to my own family or where I was born.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and stared her down, refusing to get into the elevator and saying, “That was very nice of you.”