**Officially published as Clique Bait with HarperTeen!**
Payment is usually a part of a basic transaction. You give and then you take. But, at Arlington Preparatory, people take at their leisure. They take their entertainment in the form of humiliat...
If you really want drama, I can let you in on some secrets. Of course, you can't tell anyone. The best gossip is the kind that's kept hidden, right?
Lola Davenport and William Bishop.
I know, I can't believe it either. Out of all of level one, I wouldn't have pegged those two to have been together. But it's true, he told me. Something happened, and now it isn't a thing anymore. At least that's as much as I know.
Can you believe it?
Love Chloe
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"Chloe, Chloe wake up, your father's almost home. We're having dinner."
I stirred, not able to recall the exact moment I'd slipped out of consciousness. When I'd sat down on my bed after changing into warm, dry clothes and spreading my homework around me, it had been bright out. Now it was dark, my window open to the inky night.
"What time is it?" I asked my mom groggily.
"Almost eight. He just touched down, he's about ten minutes away," she said. I heard her retreat out of my room again.
I groaned, why did we have to drop everything for him when he couldn't even live up to commitments he arranged himself?
Maybe it was because I had just woken from a nap, or perhaps it was my lingering annoyance with William, but I was in a grouchy mood when I went downstairs. Actually, maybe it was just my dad in general.
"Hi, sweetie!" he said enthusiastically as he saw me, juggling his overnight bag so that he could scoop me into a fatherly hug.
"Hi, Dad," I said, with not even half as much enthusiasm. I took his luggage though, not wanting to start the night off on a bad foot.
"How are you going? How's school?"
"Great," I said. "I have a calculus test next week."
"Already? Senior year moves fast," he said.
My mom hung awkwardly beside us, and I knew she'd probably want to greet him privately. She'd picked up take away, which was sitting in the oven to stay hot. My stomach grumbled.
"I'll go set the table," I offered.
My parents were young when they married, both in their early twenties, my mom two years my dad's senior. He had a fortune and she had a failing business, so it was a marriage of convenience. Well that's what I thought anyway, I couldn't ever picture a time when he loved her.
But her? She loved him. She wouldn't be so emotional if she didn't.
I guess I'd gotten lucky with my share of the genetics between them. I had my mother's soft features with my father's broad jaw and problem solving mind. But I also had their weaknesses, which bugged me more than anything.
