“Because I hated you too much!” She throws her arms in the air.

“Because I knew I was going to get a front-row seat to the perfect life of Daria Followhill. Because a part of me knew you would seduce Penn. Because that’s what you do, Daria. You take everything that I have and make it yours.”

“Funny.” I sniff, my mouth filling with bitterness. “I feel the same about you.”

Via shakes her head. She dashes out my door, and I run after her. I push past people and bark at them to move out of the way. I probably look possessed, and everyone is glancing over their shoulder to watch Queen Daria running after her new foster sister. But I can’t let her walk away from this conversation. Not like this. Not when nothing has been sorted. Panic rushes through my veins like a river. The more I try with her, the harder she pushes me away.

Eventually, I lose her in the crowd and get swept away by Alisha, who wants to raid Mel’s closet and see what Fashion Week garments she has ordered this season. I comply on autopilot.

The princess’s castle is falling apart.

And I know that, soon enough, doomsday will arrive.

But I just smile and wave, as princesses do.

Even—and especially—when they crumple.

You think you are so fake

But you’re the realest thing I’ve ever seen

Painful to watch

Beautiful to see

Shattering to touch

Curiosity killed the cat, and it was about to land my ass in equally deep shit, too.

I knew coming back home before I got a text clearance that the party was over was a special brand of stupid, but my dumbass self is here anyway.

The party is in full force when I park the Prius all the way on the other side of the neighborhood, a mega creep move if I ever made one. I make my way to the Followhills’ mansion by foot, wearing a ball cap to stay under the radar, approaching it with hands tucked deep inside my pockets.

“Yo. Little shit.” I hear someone chuckle behind me and—because intelligence is not my friend tonight—decide it’s a good idea to turn around. It’s Dean Cole, Knight’s dad. He is sitting on the front porch of his colonial—a weird architectural design for SoCal, but apparently, his wife is from Virginia and he is crazy about her so he designed her the perfect Southern-style house from scratch—sipping a Bloody Mary.

“You think it’s a good idea to go in there?” He jerks his chin toward the Followhills’ mansion.

I spit my gum out and kick it all the way to the Spencers’ lawn.

“Nope.”

“Just checking.” He laughs.

“What are you doing up?” I eye him curiously. Is he snitching for the Followhills?

I can hear feminine coughing from his house. He winces, tossing his Bloody Mary back and finishes it with a gulp.

“Missus is feeling under the weather. She’s about to join me outside for some fresh air.”

I have nothing to say to that, so I just nod.

“You can crash here tonight,” he offers.

“Nah. I have some unfinished business with your spawn’s friends.” I bite off a callus from my palm and spit the dead skin on the ground.

Maybe I just want to be near Daria and Via. Make sure they haven’t killed each other yet. I turn to leave.

“Do you love her?” Dean Cole’s voice makes me stop dead in place.

I don’t know how he knows.

I don’t know if that means Jaime and Mel know, too.

And I have no idea why my face feels so hot.

All I do know is that now’s not the time to think about this question.

I shake my head, chuckling. “It’s just harmless fun.”

“Harmless for who?” he calls as I resume my way to the Followhills’.

For me, I want to say. The tin man.

“Are you gonna tell Jaime and Mel?” I turn around as I continue walking backward.

He refills his glass with a bottle on the arm of his recliner, his eyes on the liquid.

“And miss out on the moment he finds out and kicks your ass? I think I’ll let your sloppy ass do the job for me. But save me a front-row seat when that happens.”

“Deal.”

I slip behind the pool house, a good few feet from Gus and the All Saints football team.

In my defense, I didn’t come here with the intention of playing Sherlock and eavesdropping. The task rolled onto my lap the minute I slipped through the backyard. I was about to cross the lawn and find my sister to make sure she wasn’t overwhelmed when I heard Gus’s voice. Now, I can’t stop listening.

“…if we don’t make it to State, Coach’s going to cold-blooded kill us. Principal Prichard is going to burn whatever’s left of our bodies, and the mayor is going to kick us out of town.” I hear their running back moaning into his beer. “And, Gus, dude, I know we’ve been lucky, but you’ve seen our form at practice. We, like, suck.”

Gus laughs. I peek behind the pool house and watch him boomerang a loaded ashtray into the pool.

“Just because you suck doesn’t mean everyone else here does.”

“Alexa.” Knight Cole billows smoke after sucking on his joint, turning to the virtual assistant sitting next to him on a table between pool loungers. “Tell Gus that he is not fooling anyone. That we’ve been so bad the last couple of games we won by little, even though the other teams weren’t on the field, and that we’re about to run out of luck and need to start talking to Coach about making some serious changes if we want to get to State.”

“Relax, Cole.” Gus puffs his chest. He rearranges his ball cap on his head. The one that looks like it stinks. “I have it all under control. Shit, that rhymes! I’m hella creative when I’m high.”

“How do you mean?” Knight asks seriously. I detect some alarm in his voice, and Knight doesn’t get his feathers ruffled easily. I know Gus is off guard, drunk, and high, and if he is going to say something that would put him in deep shit, it’s going to be right here, right now. I suck in a breath, my skin bursting out in goose bumps. Gus opens his mouth, and the first words come out, but then I hear a loud whine directed at Gus.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” Via throws her arms around his neck and purrs.

Her voice is bubbly, bright, and as per usual—all fucking wrong. I close my fist, using every ounce of self-control in me to make sure I don’t slam it against the concrete wall I’m leaning against. Via blabs about trivial shit—apparently, they’re folding out and everyone’s leaving, so if the guys want another beer, now’s the time to get it. She just ruined my chances of hearing an admission from the horse’s mouth.

So much for reconnecting, rebuilding, and all that crap.

People are starting to file out of the house. A neighbor threatened to call the police, but they gave Daria thirty minutes to get her shit together before they sent the boys in blue. Something tells me that Dean’s doing me a solid. I know if I stay behind the pool house, people are bound to notice me when they round the house and head to their cars, so I slip into the pool house to hide.

Inside, it’s more like a guesthouse with an open-space living room and a kitchenette, turquoise marble over dark oak throughout. There is also a bedroom with a glass wall. You can see into the bedroom from any spot in the living room. Not that I currently have to. As soon as I reach the switch to turn on the light, I stop. The moans bleeding into my ears tell me I just walked in on a very private moment in the see-through bedroom.