Page 21 of Wicked Elites

“You know what?” I returned to my case and pulled out framed photos of Mom and Dad. “Forget it. Next time you want to go to a party, do it without me.”

“Mom said we should stick together,” she said in a small voice.

“I don’t think she meant for me to stand against the wall, watching you live your life.”

“A pillar.”

“What?”

“You stood against a pillar.” She folded her arms and raised her chin, glaring down at me with her hazel eyes hard with defiance. “Don’t forget you brought me here, and now you’re complaining that I’m making the best of things.”

I shook my head. People called me an academic genius, but it didn’t come naturally. I worked hard on my textbooks and never stopped until I knew everything on a subject. Ashely, on the other hand, was a genius at manipulation and twisting facts until a person got so confused, they lost the thread of their arguments. Most times, I didn’t have the energy to engage with her, even when she was glaringly wrong.

“We’re late for breakfast,” I muttered.

“Do we have to sit with that Cormac guy? He’s a psycho.”

“Because he stands up for others?”

“Because he’s jealous of Leo.”

I rolled my eyes. Ashley was on a nickname basis with a guy who didn’t even remember her name.

* * *

We slumped into the dining room at around eight. Although we had no official classes on Saturday, people filled the tables because this was the day to make preparations for the week ahead. My schedule was full until one, and I intended to start as soon as I had eaten. The scholars mostly occupied the seats closest to the head table, where Miss Claymore sipped from a teacup next to Mrs. Benazir’s empty chair.

I selected a breakfast of poached eggs on toast and headed toward Cormac’s table.

“Good morning, Willow,” Cormac gave me a sad smile. “And Ashley.”

“Are you new scholars?” A black girl with her hair pulled back into an afro puff leaned forward and offered her hand. “I’m Michelle.”

Ignoring Michelle, Ashley took her seat at the end of the table, making the other girl’s face fall.

I leaned forward and offered her my hand. “Willow Evergreen, and this is my sister, Ashley.”

“Twins?” asked Michelle.

“Fraternal,” Ashley snapped.

Michelle shrank into her seat and drew her shoulders up to her ears. “Well, it’s not like you’re identical or anything.”

My insides trembled with shame. No one could ever mistake us for identical twins, let alone sisters. Ashley was five ten and willowy like those two girls at the door of Hessington Hall, whereas I stood five inches shorter and had a figure Mom had generously described as curvaceous.

I forced a smile. “What do people do here on the weekends?”

“The scholar’s common room is always lively,” said Michelle. “It’s up in the attic by the west wing. Most days we—”

“Who are those girls?” Ashley nodded at the double doors, where the blonde and black-haired girls from the party walked in time to some imaginary beat.

“Ashley,” I hissed. “Stop being rude.”

“It’s alright.” Michelle waved off my concerns. “The one with the black hair is Bianca Byrd. Her father is the senior partner at an international law firm, Byrd and Byrd. Bianca’s going to follow in his footsteps. And the blonde is Geraldine Hill, whose mother is the head of Global Economics for the World Bank.”

I ducked my head, hoping they didn’t notice me. “That’s impressive.”

“They acted like bimbos last night,” said Ashley.