Chapter 2
Nicky stepped into the ballroom with all the swagger of an immortal.
The entire senior class of Thorndike Academy, ninety-nine masked faces in all, stopped what they were doing and stared at her. The gleeful pre-party chatter having come to a sudden halt, those who had something to say now spoke in frantic whispers, leaning in close to one another, spitting out short sentences, trying desperately to figure out what they knew about Nicky Bloom.
Watching them whisper, Nicky thought of one thing they didn’t know. They didn’t know she could read lips, and understood what everyone was saying, even those all the way on the other end of the ballroom.
Who is that?
It’s the new girl.
There’s a new girl?
She got Shannon’s slot.
The new girl wore black?
Does she know what she’s doing? I don’t think she knows what she’s doing.
Kim is going to crush her. She won’t last a week.
She barely moved to DC last summer.
Oh my God, Kim is gonna be so pissed.
Who is she again?
What do you think Kim’s going to do?
That last question came off the lips of a pudgy kid from Florida named Norman Gayle. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer, for out of the stunned silence in Renata’s ballroom came staccato, angry footsteps. Kim Renwick had burst from the crowd, her sharp, Italian heels stomping her forward, the look on her face one of absolute fury. She marched into Nicky’s path, the rest of the ballroom giving her a wide berth. Nicky kept on moving, knowing it was important not to show fear. As she and Kim approached one another, the whispers stopped and the only noise in the ballroom was that of shuffling feet as everyone jockeyed for a position to watch.
They met in the center of the ballroom and stood face to face.
“Good evening, Kim,” said Nicky.
“You’re dead, New Girl,” Kim responded.
Kim was a near-perfect specimen on this night, looking slender and toned in her custom-made gown. It was a strapless A-line with see-thru features on the sides, its black fabric a sharp contrast to Kim’s ivory skin. Her shiny black hair was pulled back in a tight, wet look that gave a severity to her presence. She looked like a winner. Her mask was black silk with gold highlights and was narrow as a blindfold. Her shoes were custom-made heels with diamond-studded gold straps.
Having turned eighteen two days prior, Kim was the oldest of Nicky’s three competitors for the crown. Of those three, Kim was the only one who mattered. She was everything money could buy. Expensive tutors, personal trainers, a rigorous skin-care regimen that began at birth, and a culture of high manners pounded into her since before she could speak. She was popular at school and around town not because people liked her, but because they feared her. They feared her whole family.
“You act…threatened, Kim,” Nicky said. “Do you feel threatened?”
Kim smirked and let out a don’t-make-me-laugh sort of sound. It was an aggressive, ugly noise. It might as well have been a “yes” to Nicky’s question.
“Don’t worry, Kim,” said Nicky. “The best girl will win, I’m sure.”
“How dare you,” Kim said, almost whispered. “How dare you think you can just march into this ballroom and--”
“Fuck you, Kim Renwick,” Nicky said. The ballroom gasped in response.
It was a line Nicky and her advisers had debated about for weeks.
On the one hand, it was a phrase that almost everyone present wished they had the guts to say to Kim. There were people in the ballroom that had been under the heel of Kim or her father since before they were born, but knew they could show nothing but deference lest they or their families became the next target of the Renwick war machine.
On the other hand, it was vulgar, and not in the spirit of Homecoming. They were in an immortal’s mansion. There was decorum to be followed. Dropping the F bomb here…well…it was just something you didn’t do.
In the end, Nicky decided that the reward outweighed the risk, and she came into the night knowing she would deliver a Fuck You to Kim at the first available moment. Hopefully she hadn’t misjudged. The crowd all around was so stunned that she couldn’t tell. Were they happily stunned or were they offended?
Either way, the look on Kim’s face was worth it, and made Nicky think she’d chosen correctly. Those who were truly put off by Nicky’s vulgar language would never have supported her anyway. Nicky was counting on the fact that many of these students secretly despised the formal etiquette of Homecoming, because, really, when you thought about it, the whole thing was just absurd. While a hundred high school seniors traipsed around inside at a formal Victorian masquerade, Renata Sullivan and the other immortals were out in the yard, doing disgusting, unspeakable things to innocent people. Yes, the students and their families at Thorndike condoned this behavior outwardly, but a part of them had to recognize the disparity. Why was it okay for the immortals to behave like wild animals in the woods while everyone else had to be the model of civility? Why was it okay for Renata to have this fabulous mansion anyway? She already had the eternal existence of a vampire. Wasn’t that enough?
They were questions that no one dared speak aloud, which of course only heightened the guilty pleasure of it all. Nicky had said the F word in Renata’s mansion, blatantly violating the code of conduct. Secretly, the other students would love her for it. At least, that’s what she hoped.
“Excuse me,” Nicky said, stepping around Kim the way one might walk past a stranger in a crowd, or around a telephone pole.
“You know there’s no turning back now that you’ve worn black, don’t you?” Kim called after her. Her voice was cracking with anger. “You’re going to lose, New Girl, and there will be no place for you to hide!”
Nicky kept on smiling as she walked to the bar, and in her mind, she put a checkmark next to the first item on the night’s long to-do list.