Page 27 of Wicked Elites

“Ashley.” I strode across the room.

She leaned over one twin to whisper something to his brother, who snickered.

“Ashley,” I snapped.

She scowled. “What?”

“You weren’t in classes this afternoon. Where were you?”

“Free period.”

“Bugger off, Pigsty,” muttered Bruce from where he nuzzled Ashley’s neck.

My nostrils flared. How much effort would it take for my twin to tell her new friend to stop insulting her sister? None. Yet she smiled as though she was the Queen of Sheba getting serviced by her harem of eunuchs.

“Ashley,” I said, “You missed—”

Bruce’s head snapped up. “For fuck’s sake, why don’t you shag Cormac Gibbons or someone equally as hideous as you?”

My mouth dropped open. “Ashley, are you going to let him speak to me like that?”

“He’s only joking, aren’t you?” She patted his broad chest.

“Of course.” He wrapped his fingers around her jaw and held her steady for a long, wet kiss.

An angry breath huffed out from my nostrils. I don’t know why I bothered. Ashley didn’t give a damn about me. Mom’s voice in the back of my head reminded me that we were sisters who needed to look out for each other, and I said, “Are you going to continue kissing him after he insulted me?”

Geraldine grabbed my arm and whirled me around to meet her blazing, gray eyes. “You were creeping on Leo and me at the party, and now you’re creeping on your own sister. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sexual frustration.” Bianca made a sage nod. “Pigs have to fuck, too.”

“Hey, everyone!” Geraldine waved her arms. She had to repeat herself several times before she got the entire common room’s attention. “A reward of ten-thousand pounds goes to the first generous soul who will fuck this pig.”

A shocked breath huffed out of my throat. It had to be a joke.

Bruce’s head snapped up. “How many times?”

“Once is enough, but we need evidence.”

He jumped to his feet. “I’m up for the challenge. How about it, Pigsty?”

I turned to Ashley, who gave me the most scathing of glares. Why did she blame me?

The twins rose from their seats, and the one nearest to me rubbed at his crotch. Revulsion splashed through my insides, and I bolted out of the room.

Chapter 7

With Geraldine’s proclamation, the name-calling intensified over the next week. Everywhere outside the watchful gazes of Cormac and Miss Claymore, everyone called me Pigsty or a variation of pig. Boys from the third year and up propositioned me for dates, including Will, the young footballer I had met at the party in Hessington Hall. One or two of them even offered to relieve my virginity for free, as long as I didn’t mind them filming it. My only oasis became the scholars’ common room.

None of the kings joined in the name-calling, but Sebastian didn’t lift a finger in my defense if someone besmirched me within his earshot, and I didn’t turn to him for help. His refusal to deny having played that disgusting pull-a-pig game had caused this entire mess. Sure, Geraldine and Bianca were menaces, but I had expected more from him.

Ashley finally agreed to attend her classes and do her prep, but what I dreaded most was my own fate. A combination of helping my resistant sister with her work, enduring daily indignities, and my heavy workload had taken its toll, and I dreaded the addition of swimming practice to my already busy schedule.

The gym block was located on the other side of the campus gardens and contained an Olympic-sized pool. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the length of the building, and on the other side were stadium seats that accommodated over a hundred spectators. Swimming practice took place during prep-time at five o’clock and ended just in time for the last hour of dinner.

I stepped into the building, inhaling the warm, familiar scent of chlorinated water and stopped outside a group of girls from my year and the year above gathered around a tall, thin woman with cropped hair, who I gathered was our instructor.

“What’s Pigsty doing here?” sniped a voice in the crowd.