Elle
“Eloisa, a word.”
Fuck.
A word is never anything good.
I turn around to face Miss Trix and readjust the strap of my gym bag.
I’d found it on the dance studio’s rooftop, though everything inside had been soiled with coffee. Seeing as all the girls carried chai lattes, no foam, skim milk, lite water, three pumps of something or another and extra hot, it would’ve been impossible to identify who’d sabotaged my leotard. But only one girl wore crystalized headbands like they were tiaras. Rin. Her minions were only allowed plain ones, usually velvet. I’d found a gem at the bottom of the bag, and I could practically hear Rin’s snooty voice correcting me on the fact that it’s not a rhinestone, it’s a Swarovski crystal as I examined it.
Why the hell did Rin have such a hard-on for Gant anyway? From what I’ve seen, they’ve never even had a one-on-one interaction. She’s only had those with étienne.
“What’s this?” I ask as Ms Trix teeters on her heels, a red card in her outstretched hand. Tucked beneath her other arm is a box of liquor-infused chocolates. I didn’t think it was possible to get tipsy on those things, but Miss Trix clearly is. Given the count on the box is three hundred, and only ten seem to be left, maybe she’d accomplished the unlikely. The fact that she hasn’t succumbed to a sugar coma is insane.
Had Mr Lexington posted another selfie that sent her into a spiral?
She hands me the card and pats the box in search of another chocolate. When she bites into it, the scent of bourbon hits me. “Your first detention, doll,” she says in between smacks.
“Detention?” I gasp, gazing down to read it. It’s scheduled for tonight. In fifteen minutes.
“You missed your last class on Friday, remember?”
How could I forget nearly drowning after being covered in kilos of food?
“B-But you saw me. I was soaked and covered in food. I couldn’t go to class like that and I don’t have a spare uniform.”
My uniform Gant had fished from the lake is nothing short of grotesque despite soaking it multiple times and having the ladies in the laundry room try their best. It’s clean and pressed, but it looks like my blazer’s infested with ringworm. I’d searched the unclaimed lost and found box and managed to find a new-old one, two sizes too big.
Ms Trix looks sympathetic as she searches the box for another chocolate. A vodka-infused one from the smell of it. “I know. I vouched for you, but ultimately it’s up to the missed class’s instructor to decide, and Mr. Sharpe decided you have to clean the library until closing tonight.”
I gawk at her. “The library doesn’t close until eleven.”
It’s only seven.
Ms Trix only nods dreadfully, her red-stained lips puckering as she sucks the chocolate with another smack.
“I have a private dance session in fifteen minutes,” I say more to myself. “I already booked the studio.”
The studios always have a waitlist and it took me four days just to secure a reservation with Sylo, AKA Platinum Prince.
“Maybe you can find someone to swap times with?” Ms Trix says thoughtfully, her teeth covered in brown. “Maybe Aria or Stassi have reservations sometime this week too?”
I sigh and nod, though I doubt it. Stassi normally used the ballroom room and Aria was on the ice more often than not.
The girls and I still aren’t close, but lately, we’d drifted into a bit more conversation other than “stop hogging all the hot water,” or “catch!” as I’m socked in the face with some sort of snack when either girl can’t withstand my stomach rumbles anymore.
Plus, Aria had helped me twice on Monday, though I’d forgone her advice, at least in the tutoring department. The interlude was still weighing heavily on my mind and shoulders, but I’d asked Sylo to tutor me instead. I still don’t know what he’ll get out of it, seeing as I can’t pay him anything, but we were supposed to discuss a trade tonight.
Is it a good idea to accept a lesson without understanding the tradeoff first? No. But I was desperate to improve. Desperate to not get kicked out of Mistress’ class in a few months. Desperate to stay the fuck away from Gant as much as possible, even if I did give in to him in other ways.
But that’s like what? Twenty minutes tops? Not comparable to an hour-long dance session.
Damn, now I’d have to cancel on Sylo.
But why the hell should I have to? Why am I being punished for something Gant did to me? Something Gant had his minions help with?
Another thought comes to mind. Do Gant and Bae have detention for missing Mr Sharpe’s class too? Something tells me no.
Ms Trix sways and I grab her arm to stabilise her, before guiding her to the nearby loveseat in the sitting room.
“Are you okay Ms Trix?” I ask seriously, as she feels for another chocolate. “You seem…out of it? Stressed maybe?”
Gently, I ease the box from her weak grasp and replace the cardboard top before sliding it onto the coffee table.
I expect her to lie. To say that everything is peachy keen jelly bean. But she shakes her candy-floss hair slowly before gazing out of the window like she’s looking for someone.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this because you’re a student. The last thing I want is to worry you, but…”
“But?” I ask, eyebrows creasing as I lean forward to hear her better. She’s slurring and whispering.
When her brown eyes meet mine, she looks zoned out as she says, “I have a stalker. Again.”
That’s the last thing I expect her to say.
“A stalker?” I ask, my curiosity laced with a dose of fear. The campus is always crawling with security guards. If someone slipped past them…Then again, the girls slipped out of the dorms regularly and the security guards were none the wiser. “Do you have any idea who it may be?”
She shakes her head again. “I have so many admirers. It’d be difficult to know which one has crossed over from reality into fantasy land again in an attempt to get their hands on me.” She pinches the top button of her dress closed.
Are we in fantasy land right now?
“I excite this madness in people that just disturbs their peace. It’s sad. It’s scary. It’s fascinating. But it’s the life I live.”
Is it?
I squint at her. “Ms Trix, what makes you think you’re being stalked?”
“Shadows darting past my window, past my bedroom door late at night.” She twiddles her red fingernails towards the rose bush outside the window. “Rustling in the bushes. This sense of always being watched. Like last week, I was scrolling through Instagram and I felt this presence behind me, right by that chaise.” She points to the chair I’d found her on that night I crept after Rin. The night she was stalking Mr. Lexington’s social media.
Immediately, a nervous laugh escapes my lips as I hop to my feet. Time to blast.
“I’m sure it was just an animal.”
Ms Trix shakes her head. “I saw someone. A human shape just lingering. It was massive.”
Oh.
“Broad shoulders. Tall.”
I’m only one hundred and sixty-seven centimetres.
“Definitely a husky man. A strapping man. And it wasn’t the first time. But don’t you get scared, Eloisa. This sort of thing isn’t something a girl like you has to worry about in her lifetime.”
I have a level four crazy on the other side of campus in the boys’ dorms as we speak!“You may be surprised to learn this, but I’m somewhat of a sleuth.”
I stare at her blankly.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this. No need to alarm the other girls.”
For everyone’s sake, I hope she isn’t going to get to the bottom of anything besides another bottle of cooking sherry.
“Then why are you confiding in me?” I can’t help but ask. “Because now I’m alarmed.”
I’m not.
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” she slurs. “That isn’t fair to you. I guess it was weighing on me so heavily that I became too eager and shared the load before I snapped. I must’ve blurted it to you because I subconsciously thought it’d remain a secret between us since you have no friends to confide in. Still, I shouldn’t have burdened you. Forgive me?”
I nod. “I can understand that snapping feeling.”
It’s the reason I’d blurted about the interlude to Aria.
She pats my shoulder glumly before grabbing the chocolate box. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. A package came for you. It’s under the staircase in the closet.”
A package? Has Mum sent me a care package already? I doubt it, even though I’m in desperate need of shampoo.
I watch Mrs. Trix sway down the hallway to her quarters before opening the small closet door and pulling out a huge box. It’s plain and black and yet its pretty matte finish tells me that it’s definitely not from Mum.
Panties. Hundreds of panties stare back at me when I open the top. There’s every shade of green, purple and blue known to man. All gem tones Gant thinks would look perfect on me because they could only be from Gant.
“Why do you wear these? It barely covers your pussy.”
I pick up a thong in a rich shade of plum and try to stop myself from swooning over how soft and freaking pretty the fabric is. Because it doesn’t matter how beautiful they all are, I won’t be wearing them.
I meant it when I said I didn’t want anything else from Gant. I’m already using his money on tuition. But if I squint and contort myself into a pretzel, I can sort of justify it. It’s going to help my future and besides, it’s a fair exchange for all the bullshit he’s put me through, that he’s going to keep putting me through. Right? But these beautiful, sexy, expensive panties aren’t anything I could delude myself into believing that I deserve.
I pick up another pair, a dark green boy short with a silky mint green bow stitched right above the ass crack. It’s tiny, but the ends of the thin ribbon are long, trailing down to where your ass cheeks would definitely peak out. I put them back, almost afraid of ruining them just by touching them. I always have that habit with things out of my price zone. Just holding them feels like a would-be crime because I could never replace them if something were to happen.
I eye a navy blue pair with little baby blue bows holding the sides together and shake my head, trying to convince myself to not pick it up.
No.
These are nothing but a trap. A play into whatever sick fantasy Gant’s working up in his mind. I’d only be helping him by wearing them.
Who cares? My inner bitch drawls. You’re just being prideful. Too prideful to accept a useful gift, but not prideful enough to stop wearing thrifted, ill-fitting rags.
I skim over the rich colours again.
We’re only punishing ourselves by not wearing them.
In some twisted way, I feel like I should punish myself for being such an idiot and letting Gant touch me the way he had in Stretch class. The way he always does in my dreams. He’d pissed on me for fuck’s sake! How had I forgotten that for long enough to let him swirl my clit?
Like you said, you”re kind of even. A little golden shower, a little spit vs two hundred grand and the best ballet dance education money can buy on this coast. Maybe that’s why you let him touch you…Maybe that’s how you justified it in that moment…you know when you were squirting on his fingers.
I cringe and shut the box before shoving it back under the stairs. I’m not about to justify this.
I’ll take it straight back to Gant tomorrow. He can get a refund or wear them himself.
Digging into my bag, I grab my phone and open Sylo’s message thread.
ElleBelle: I’m sooo sorry! I just got a detention card, and it starts in ten minutes. Can we reschedule?
It takes three minutes to get a reply.
Syloaf: No worries. I’ll ask a friend to swap with us tomorrow. Same time?
I breathe a sigh of relief.
ElleBelle: You’re an angel amongst demons. See you tomorrow.
He sends a purple devil emoji whose horns are holding up a halo.
* * *
The one positive of late-night detentions is that I can do my punishment in isolation, away from the ‘murderer’ chants and giggles. Away from the senior girls, who comment on my appearance like it’s an Olympic sport.
The quiet is nice.
Not seeing Gant’s smug face is nice.
Seriously. Hadn’t I had enough of him? From his bullying to his lewd touching, to his haunting of every damn dream I’ve had of late...
For once, I’m glad his special privileges have kept him out of detention with me. He’d only slow me down.
Then why does my stomach flutter every time I hear a little noise in hopes that it’s him? Why does my heart beat faster every time I peer over the special edition graphic novels I’m dusting and into the next aisle that’s still empty?
The whole third floor is empty and has been for an hour.
When I arrived, the librarian wasn’t even around. Just a rolling cart loaded with cleaning supplies and a list of what needed to be done. I’d dawdled for ten minutes before starting, figuring she’d show up at some point to check my progress and ensure that I’d come at all.
Annoyance resurges and rushes through my veins every time I think about her absence. I didn’t want her hovering over me, but her absence meant I could’ve still done my private lesson with Sylo before rushing over.
Sighing, I push the rolling ladder over to another segment of the bookcase that would one hundred per cent touch the ceiling if it wasn’t vaulted. The ceiling’s a beautiful golden dome with stained glass to match that of the dining hall’s windows. Not that I can admire its beauty in the dark sky, but the stars twinkling dimly through it once again remind me of just how beautiful this place is.
Of just how lucky I am to be here, even if it meant having to dust jacket covers and deal with Gant.
Gant…
A click of a heel makes my heart leap into my throat as I peer over the novels again. I don’t see who’s just invaded my lair, but I know from the ankle disappearing into the tiny computer lab who it is immediately.
The stockings are emerald green instead of the royal blue the girls are supposed to wear. They go all the way up to brown mid-thighs, instead of ending just below the knee. Then there’s the fact that they’re wrapped in crisscrossing black ribbons attached to ballet flats like pointe shoes.
Rin.
The main computer lab was downstairs and any student could use it during regular library hours, but this one is by reservation only. I’d seen the evening appointment list because I’d had to post it to the corkboard just outside the lab’s door. There’s only one name, Enaj Zaveri, but her appointment time isn’t until seven thirty in ten minutes.
So is this how Rin does it? How she works on Beaussip’s website in secret? By sneaking up to the almost always abandoned third floor to creep onto the computer? Surely she had her own laptop, but maybe all the shit she posted and edited required a higher-powered computer? I knew fuck all about tech, but it could be a reasonable explanation, right? The computers in the library were state of the art, loading pages faster than I could blink.
My knuckles blanch as I grip the ladder tighter and quietly begin my descent without looking down. Dusting the tip-top shelves meant that I’m a little over a story high and while I’m not terrified of heights, I can’t say I enjoy them either.
When my feet are safely planted on the shiny floors again, I creep around the bookshelf, angling myself so that I can peer into the narrow strip of glass inside the lab’s door without Rin being able to see me.
Fuck. She’s chosen a computer in the corner against the wall, so I can’t see her screen. Just the glow of the computer’s light bouncing off her stupid headband as she furiously types. Her eyes fly from the screen to the window constantly, and she’s rushing so much that she doesn’t even bother to sit. She’s hunching over the desk, clicking away with paranoid speed.
That’s my proof. Whatever she has opened on that screen is my proof that she’s Beaussip.
But how do I get to it?
How do I lure her out?
The question barely crosses my mind when the sound of rubbery soles squeaking down the hallway draws both Rin”s and my attention and gives me the excuse that I need. Because Rin turns off the computer screen and runs from the lab to the tiny girls’ bathroom next door.
Obviously, she thinks it’s the librarian, and for a second I do too, given those orthopaedic heels that bank the corner, but it’s a student. The South Asian girl I’d sat next to during orientation.
Hunched over from her overweight backpack, she squeaks up to the corkboard, signs her name on the log-in sheet and enters the lab. And I enter directly behind her because I don’t give a fuck if Rin catches me, so long as I get the proof first.
Enaj blinks at me startled, but I breeze past her and turn Rin’s monitor back on. It’s easy to identify which screen is hers in the row of eight given that stupid ass cup she always totes around. She’d forgotten to carry it with her.
The moment I’m bathed in the soft blue glow of the monitor’s light, I’m hit with images and videos from all over campus. Hundreds, no, thousands of them, all attachments and all in an email thread. I roll the cursor up, trying to skim the recipient’s email and the moment I do, the moment I read the letters B and E, the monitor glitches, and then it goes black.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I turn to Rin, who’s right by my ear. I hadn’t even heard her coming.
My eyes flash to Enaj, who’s just watching us timidly over her monitor.
Damn, we weren’t friends by a long shot, but we were scholarship sluts as everyone had pegged us. Shouldn’t that fragile bond count for something? Couldn’t she have cleared her throat or something to give me a heads-up?
“The same thing you are. Sticking my nose inside somebody else’s business,” I whisper. I didn’t want Enaj to overhear. I need as much leverage as possible and that includes secrecy.
Rin’s furious expression relaxes her lips curling into a smile like I’ve just said something funny but I’m not laughing.
“I know who and what you are.”
“A vampire?” She cocks her head and crosses her arms. “A wizard? You got me there.”
“Beaussip,” I hiss.
She actually bursts out laughing then, so hard she doubles over, her headband nearly slipping off her head. “You are so stupid. Even stupider than you look in ballet class.”
I don’t let her words shake me despite my stomach plummeting.
“And yet you can’t take your eyes off of me in class. Neither can Gant. So is that why you’re his head cheerleader?” I ask, lifting my chin. “Why do you ride his dick so hard? You think if you dox me enough, he’ll give you a crumb of attention?”
Shock is an understatement as she gawks at me, then once again she’s chuckling with laughter, tears brimming in her steely grey eyes. “I’m probably the only girl in our year who doesn’t want Gant’s psychotic attention. But you do. You look for him everywhere you go.”
“You would know. You’re always so concerned with what I’m doing. You’re just as obsessed as he is.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She drops her voice that’s suddenly serious. “You saw the photos. I’m obsessed with everyone and no one at all.”
At my wrinkled brow, she elaborates.
“I don’t give a fuck about you. Or Gant. Or why he’s willing to dethrone himself for some fire crotch. Or anyone else and their drama at this school besides my little sisters. What I do care about is content and when things are slow, I generate it. I don’t care if it inadvertently benefits someone else like Gant. It’s all for me.”
“So you’re a content farm and a snitch for Beaussip?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Why?” Rin’s filthy rich and it’s not like Beaussip openly acknowledges her contributions. She’s providing the information in secret, so what’s she gaining from it?
“Like I have to explain shit to you. You can’t prove anything.”
“I saw you, you know. That night Zedd was in the greenhouse blasting that girl out.”
Rin stiffens and straightens. “So? You were there too. You just said so. For all I know, you could be Beaussip.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You already are.”
“Proof?” I cock a brow. “It’s all right here.” Faster than a blink I reach for the monitor and power it on and the second I do, a pop sounds in my ear. Like a lid leaving a container.
“Oops.”
Water from Rin’s fucking five-gallon cup gushes down on the flat screen monitor, making it spark, hiss and crackle until lines of yellow, white and black stripe across the screen.
Then, a dozen sounds go off at once. Rin’s heels bouncing out of the computer lab. Enaj’s gasp, and the scrape of her chair across the floor as she stands to observe the damage, her hands flying to cover her mouth. The clicks of the librarian’s sensible pumps as she trots toward the lab, asking, “What the hell was that noise?”
Then there’s my gasp of utter disbelief as I watch smoke waft up from the two-grand plus machine.
“What have you done?!” she shrieks, despite her strict rule of silence. I eye the nameplate attached to her fuzzy cardigan. Ms. El-Agha. I’d never seen her up close, just in passing when I needed to print something fast and get the hell out of dodge before the senior girls got any ideas, just like Rin had. But still, her small heart-shaped face looks so familiar, like I’ve seen her somewhere else once before. Not just in passing around campus.
The unmistakable scent of burning plastic fills the air as she bends down and snatches the still-dripping computer cords from the outlet and examines them.
“Can you not read?” Her expression, like she’s just sucked on a lemon, makes it clear she’s waiting for an answer.
Heat crawls up my neck and spreads across my chest and face. “Y-yes miss,” I say finally.
“Then you saw the rules that said no liquids allowed?”
“I did—”
“Then?” she snaps.
“I didn’t bring in any liquids. It was Rin—”
“Rin Jung?” She crinkles a brow. “I just came up the stairs. No one else was there.”
“She must be hiding somewhere. Like in the bathroom,” I say, going to step around her to check, but she catches my arm, and my shoe skids in a puddle. I fall out of her grip and onto my tailbone hard.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Ms. El-Agha asks, glowering down at me.
“To find her. I know she’s hiding. That’s her cup.” I point at the bedazzled white cup, the size of a damn bathroom bin. “I can’t even afford one of those. I swear.” I turn to Enaj who quickly looks away the moment we make eye contact. “You saw Rin. Tell her.” I nod to the librarian. “Tell her that Rin spilt the water. On purpose.”
Seconds tick by and finally Enaj says, her eyes downturned, “I can’t. Because I didn’t see anything as it happened. I just saw when the computer started sparking. Sorry.”
“And was she alone?” Ms. El Agha asks impatiently.
“When I looked up, yes, she was.”
Rage roils through me. Why the fuck is she standing up for a bitch like Rin, of all people? Rin, who wouldn’t spit on Enaj if she were on fire.
“She’s lying,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’m telling you it was Rin.”
It’s crystal clear Ms. El-Agha doesn’t believe a single word I say as her lips draw into a thin line.
“What’s your name?”
She’s asking, but something in my gut tells me that she already knows. Everyone knows who I am. Gant’s made sure of it.
“Eloisa Ginhart,” I mutter, then a thought crosses my mind that makes my brow crease in utter confusion. Regardless of Gant and my stellar reputation, why would she pretend to not know my name if I have detention with her?
“You didn’t reserve a spot in the lab, so why are you even here?”
“I have detention,” I say in bewilderment. “I’m supposed to clean the third floor.”
Ms. El-Agha relaxes her lemon-sucking expression in exchange for a confused one.
“No one has detention with me tonight. And if they did, it’s seldom on the third floor. There’s hardly any foot traffic up here. If anything, you’d be on the first floor.”
“B-but, I got a red card from Mr Sharpe with implicit instructions—”
“Mr. Sharpe has never scheduled a detention with me. He makes students help him in his beloved, carnivorous greenhouse.” The way she says it lets me know she certainly doesn’t have any love for it.
“But—”
“Clean this up. Now. Then get out. The tech department will have to look at the computer tomorrow. If it’s unfixable, the school will bill it to your parents.”
My stomach churns and clenches. “My mother can’t afford to pay for something like that.”
“Then she can’t afford to have a liar as a daughter either. But here you are and on a scholarship to boot. Follow me.”
I bite my tongue so hard blood fills my mouth as I glare at the back of her fuzzy, wavy sandy blonde hair and follow her out of the lab, past dead-to-me Enaj, and to the small broom closet nestled between the lab and the bathroom.
I watch stoically as she pulls out a mop bucket and broom and shoves them at me before turning on her heel and disappearing down the stairs with promises to file the report about the computer, right at that second.
But as I watch her leave, and I glance at her side profile, I finally realise where I know her from.
She’s the woman in Mr. Lexington’s Instagram photo kissing his cheek while he looks headlong into the camera.
At first, I couldn’t fault his lack of attraction to Ms Trix. But now that I’ve met the bitchy librarian, I know that his dating tastes still suck ass cheeks, regardless.
But more thoughts than a potential four-figure bill and teacher’s dating drama bombard me.
Someone had pranked me. Lured me to the library and I don’t need three clues and a fucking notebook and crayon to figure out who.
Gant Auclair’s smug face floats to the forefront of my brain that’s already pulsing with an impending migraine.
He’d pranked me. Lured me here. But why?
And why had Enaj been so bloody unhelpful?
Why am I so angry at Enaj when everyone has treated me like dog shit ever since I arrived? Why did I think Enaj would be any different?
Maybe because I saw myself in her and I know if the tables were turned, I’d have stood up for her. But Enaj isn’t me. She isn’t a glutton for punishment in the name of justice that’ll never come. I couldn’t really blame her for wanting to stay out of Rin’s burn book.
Still, my anger deserved or not rears its head as I mop up the puddle.
“You know,” I say after three minutes of dead silence. “Rin wouldn’t have helped you.”
Enaj doesn’t spare me a glance as she types up her essay. “She already did.”