Nobody in Particular(4)

Across the room, Mom catches my eye and raises her shoulders in excitement.

As Molly lowers her head to use her phone, I shoot Mom’s happy gesture right back at her.





TWO

ROSE




My guards, Theodore and Sidney, stand silently on the porch of Molly Kwon’s mansion, one eyeing me through the window, the other monitoring the front yard. They’re huddled together, instead of patrolling like they usually would, in an effort to keep dry. I avert my eyes, succumbing to a pang of guilt for causing them to stand out there, stranded. They’re sheltered from the heavy rain, but not from the unseasonal cold.

If I thought it would make any difference, I would insist they come inside in shifts to watch from the warmth of the kitchen with a cup of tea. The problem is, they don’t much respect what I have to say when Father’s given a direct order. Today, Father’s orders were to watch from the front yard, and remain there unless I’m in imminent danger, and that’s that. Their comfort doesn’t matter, and I certainly don’t have the authority to issue supplementary or contradictory commands.

Although, to be fair, I don’t expect they would relish the opportunity to take a cup of tea from me, even if they were free to. The last time I made them tea, I was so high I mistook the salt for sugar.

I watch the scene with lazy eyes from my usual vantage point, the nearest leather armchair to the entranceway. Eleanor Kowalczyk, one of my closest friends, drapes herself over the top of my chair. She dangles a half-smoked joint in front of my face as though I’m a horse she’s enticing with a carrot. I swat at her hand, disguising my rush of irritation with an easy laugh.

“You’re serious about it, then?” Eleanor asks me, nodding at the joint in her hand.

“When have you known me to break a promise?”

On a nearby couch occupied by a handful of guys, a tall boy with thick dark curls climbs onto his knees and holds out a hand to Eleanor. Alfie Paget-Harrington. Alfie clicks at Eleanor, who takes a drag before handing the joint over. He rolls it between his fingers and cocks his head at me. “Luckily,” he says in his slow, deep voice, “the rest of us made no such promises.”

“The rest of you,” I remind him, “had no incentive to.”

“There are no cameras around, Rosie,” Alfie says. “You know everyone in the room.”

I hold his gaze steadily until he relents. “More for me,” he says, bringing the joint to his lips.

“For us,” Eleanor protests, and Alfie cries out as she darts forward to wrestle it from his grasp.

Across the room, Molly glances up at Alfie’s laughter. At first, she looks everywhere but at me. Eventually, however, she cracks and steals a peek, only to find me staring right at her. I raise a single brow the moment our gazes lock. It’s all that’s necessary. Should she continue to snub me now, there won’t be any plausible deniability left for her, and Molly certainly isn’t as confrontational as all that. Even if she is trying to prove a point.

And she is trying to prove a point, I’m quite sure of it, as she hasn’t spoken a word to me since I arrived, other than to greet Eleanor and me as one.

Instead, she’s spent the entire gathering by the side of a girl with long, dark blond hair I can only describe as a peculiarity. She’s wearing an ill-fitting puffer jacket, and jeans that fit her worse still. Her shoes are muddy, her skin is shockingly pale, and she hasn’t unfolded her arms in about half an hour. I should know. I’ve been watching her.

She’s clearly uncomfortable, and unsurprisingly so. She looks so out of place, I could almost believe she stumbled upon the party by accident. I can’t imagine where Molly found her. Or why, for that matter, my best friend is apparently so taken by this awkward stranger that she can’t find a spare minute to introduce her to Eleanor and me.

Even if it’s just to convince anyone watching that everything is fine between us.

Molly says something to the stranger, and the two of them head in my direction as Alfie leaves us. Molly selects a flute of champagne from a refreshment table as she passes it, and then holds it out to me. “Rose,” she says as I accept the glass. “This is Danni. She’s in fifth year, too.”

“Oh,” I say. “Which school?”

Molly shoots me a look as though I’m being purposely obtuse. While it’s possible I am being obtuse, in my defense, it’s certainly not on purpose. “Bramppath,” she says, and I realize my misstep too late. This girl must be attending under one of the music scholarships. They’re the only scholarships available that offer a fully funded place. They’re quite competitive, too.

“A musical prodigy,” I remark. “I’m sure we’re lucky to gain you. What do you play?”

Danni opens her mouth as though to answer me, but then she falters. “Piano, but … how do you know I’m a musician?”

Two mistakes in a row. It’s a blessing Mum and Father aren’t here to witness this, or I’d be in for a lecture. Remarking upon class differences is classless; those would be Mum’s exact words.

Molly watches me with curiosity, apparently in no hurry to save me. So, I make my best effort to recover myself. “You have piano hands,” I say. Stealing a glance at Danni’s fingers, it’s not a word of a lie—they are long. “Have you had the chance to meet everyone here, then?”