Chapter 26
26
Sonny
I arrive back at my dorm after my Saturday morning psych lab to find a black velvet box sitting outside the door, neatly wrapped with silky silver ribbon. A lavish, floppy bow adorns the top with a tag hanging off the side that has Poppy’s name hand-scribed in beautiful cursive.
Glancing around the empty hall, I look for any clue as to who could have left it. No other door has one sitting before it.
Is this some sort of prank?
It takes me a few beats of contemplation until I hurriedly unlock my door and grab up the box, carrying it inside before someone catches me with it. I make it as far as the couch, and then I’m ripping the ribbon off and showing the lid to the floor. A silver envelope sits atop a mess of black silk with a wax seal holding the envelope closed. Once I shove my nails into the wax to get it peeled off, I find an invitation sitting inside.
“What the hell?” I mumble to myself, dropping the invitation to peel back the soft fabric in the box, revealing an ornately decorated, golden face mask. With careful hands, I grab it up and examine the filigree from all sides, surprised by the impressive weight of it.
There’s no way this is real. What kind of university would throw an event that encourages students to hunt each other?
And a masquerade? Come on . . .
No, it has to be a prank. That’s why no one else had boxes waiting for them.
There’s a knock on my door, startling me so badly, the mask slips through my fingers and crashes to the floor. I snatch it up and throw it back onto the couch like it’ll bite me if I hold it for too long, mumbling a string of curse words as I rush to answer the door.
“Hey, we were going down to dinner and—” Ava greets, stopping when her eyes land on the box still sitting on my couch. “Ooh, you lucky bitch!” she squeals, inviting herself through my door. Holding up the invitation for Beatrix to see, her mouth pops open. “Look what she got.”
“Damn,” Beatrix says, waving to me as she passes through the doorway with much more consideration than Ava.
“So, you know about this? It’s not some weird joke someone’s playing on me?”
“Of course, it’s not. The Falconry is the crème de la crème of Ravenshurst events,” Ava says, pursing her lips as if I should already know this.
Beatrix adds, “The school tries to throw a consolation dance on the off-years to make everyone feel a little better about not being invited to this one, but it pales in comparison. I think anonymity adds to the allure.”
“Yeah, that and the prospect of being hunted down by some rich, hot guy. Or girl.” Ava holds her fingers up and purses her lips in a dramatic chef’s kiss.
“Who do you think invited you?” Beatrix asks, taking the invitation from Ava’s hands so she can pick up the mask I left sitting on the couch.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going,” I dismiss, my voice cold as ice.
They may fall for the dramatics, but I see this for exactly what it is: Another way for the wealthy families to wave their money around in everyone else’s faces. Just like Devlin.
Aunt Divina would be so proud. I bet she’s somehow behind this.
Ava’s face drops into a pout, but it’s Beatrix who surprises me by insisting, “You have to go.”
Spinning to face her, my brows scrunch together in an irritated scowl. “Why would I do that? Have you read the rules?”
Beatrix rolls her eyes, holding the invitation between us. “The Falconry is the most exclusive event Ravenshurst throws. It’s sponsored by the board, and rumor has it, only their hand-picked legacies are allowed to extend invites. You’re one of maybe seventy students to receive one of these. Not accepting isn’t an option.”
“It says I have a choice . . . ”
“Yeah, but that’s just a formality. No one gets invited and declines,” Ava argues.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, I point to the mask and invitation. “So, some guy decided he wants me to come to this stupid dance with him and I have no say in it? That’s . . . insane. And archaic.” And infuriating.
Shaking her head in exasperation, Beatrix throws the invite back into the box and squares her shoulders. “You don’t understand how big of a deal it is. It’s not just a stupid dance. It’s the chance to mingle and rub elbows with some of the world’s highest elite. It’s a networking event that’s only available to a few chosen ones, every other year. You’d be throwing away an opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Let me go in your place. He’ll never know if I hide from him until the end of the night,” Ava jokes, slipping the mask over her face.
Dropping my gaze back down to the invitation, I consider what Beatrix said. That grimy, forced feeling I had when I first opened the package is still there, but is it worth pushing past for the opportunity to network with people who could help me later on? Something like this could change the trajectory of my entire future.
“Just think about it,” Beatrix encourages.
“Seriously, who do you think invited you?” Ava asks again, posing in front of my mirror with the mask on.
Shrugging, I close the box with the invitation inside. “I have no idea. Who do we know that has family on the board?”
Both of them shake their heads. Beatrix collapses onto the couch, stretching her arms across the back. “No one I can think of. I would say Hayes, since he’s been following you around like a lost dog, but I don’t think he has any connections to the board, does he?”
“Ooh, it’s even more mysterious now,” Ava giggles, rubbing her hands together mischievously. The golden hue of the mask makes the undertones of her tawny skin pop and with her hair tied up in that slick, elegant ponytail, she looks like a true goddess.
She should have gotten this invite. She would appreciate it so much more than me. She understands it better than me.
“We have to find you a dress,” Beatrix points out, earning another excited squeal from Ava.
Clapping her hands together, she rushes toward us. “A shopping trip in town! We’ve only got two weeks to get everything together.”
“ Y ou have to go!” Poppy’s voice echoes off my walls when I talk to her that night. I called her the moment Beatrix and Ava left and we’ve been on speaker phone for an hour. I’ve allowed her to ramble about every menial detail of her trip before bringing it up, knowing this would be her reaction.
I shake my head, dipping the brush back into my nail polish bottle to blow on my freshly painted fingers. “Poppy, I don’t even know who invited me.”
“So? That makes it even better. Some mysterious rich guy is into you and you’re not interested in seeing who it might be?”
“Not really,” I deadpan.
“You used to be so fun,” she whines. “Who hurt you?”
“What about the fact that the invitation states he can do whatever he wants when he finds me? That sounds like a sexual assault waiting to happen. Especially when these people can work with more than just their hands.”
“I know that’s not your real excuse. With all that training you’ve been in, you can kick any guy’s ass who tries to come near you.”
She’s right. I had a hyperfixation with Krav Maga several years ago and learned every move necessary to thwart an attack. Even in heels.
“That’s not the point,” I dismiss.
I’m not sure what my point is, really. I just don’t have a good feeling about going, but I know no one will accept that as an excuse.
“I’m sure that’s not what was intended when they wrote that. He might never find you if you’re good enough at hiding.”
Someone starts to yell in the background, but it’s quickly cut off by Poppy slamming her door shut.
“So, you want me to go to this ball and hide in the shadows the whole time?” I ask, pushing away the need to pry and ask her what’s going on there.
Wherever there is. She’s been pointedly vague about her whereabouts since the first week she landed in Costa Rica and her group left their first philanthropic stop.
Poppy’s sigh makes a weird, popping noise in the speaker. “Look, I know it’s always your first instinct to buck against whatever everyone else finds cool. But you didn’t go all the way to Ravenshurst just to live life the way you were before. You wanted adventure, and this sounds like an amazing, safe first step.”
Twisting my lips to the side, I stare at a spot on the wall and consider her words. I don’t understand why everyone sees this as such a great opportunity for me when I feel nothing but dread about it. She’s right, though. I fight against the current, regardless of how it may benefit me to go with the flow every once in a while.
“I’ll consider it,” I relent.
“You’ll go because it’ll be a good time and because it’s what I would do. If you’re pretending to be me, you have to do a better job at it, bitch. Krav Maga or not, I’ll still kick your ass if you get yourself kicked out of there before you can graduate.”
Her tone is light but firm and we both chuckle at her ridiculous threat. She’s right. Poppy loves this kind of thing. If Divina realized she was invited, it would be obvious something was wrong if she didn’t go.
Once our breathing is settled and silence fills the line again, I risk asking, “Is everything okay there?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she quips, a little too quickly.
“I was just wondering because of the yelling and?—”
“I told you, it’s fine,” Poppy’s sharp voice cuts in. “Just too much testosterone in one small space.”
“Okay,” I softly say, if only to ease the tension that’s building.
I hate that I’m backing down so easily when there’s clearly something wrong, but she’s bever spoken to me like that. I’m afraid that if I push the subject, I’ll push her away altogether.
“I’ve got to take a shower and head to bed. We have a long day ahead of us,” she explains, her tone still icy.
Nodding at the phone, I bite my lip. “It’s hard work, saving the rainforest,” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Sure is. G'night, Sonny.”
She almost hangs up before I rush out, “Til the world burns.”
“And even then,” she whispers, then the line goes blank.