Lipstick Stains

Bad Things

Am I out of my head?
Am I out of my mind?

Celeste

♦Silverleaf Academy looked just as prim and proper as the brochures had led Celeste Leoni to believe. For a moment she was reminded of her prep school back in the city; that tempting mix of old money and modern luxury.

If she'd just opened her eyes on a whim, with no knowledge of where she'd landed, she'd have thought she never really left. The people and setting changed but the manners in which they carried on hadn't.

All around her, students with overflowing luggage were buzzing with talk of trips to various locations of privilege. The front lawn was covered with relaxing students that looked like they stepped off the pages of a feature in Teen Vogue circa 2007. Mostly their high-pitched giggles and laughter were coated with double meanings and petty gossip, they looked as though they were extras on Gossip Girl instead of actual students.

"The future Ivy Leaguers of America," she whispered to herself as if she, too, wasn't one of the very sort. She'd had her eye on Princeton since she was a kid, after-all.

Celeste hiked one of her bags over her shoulder, studying her information packet with new eyes and trying to memorize every inch of it. Like her life depended on it. When really, she was only trying to distract herself from every last thought that had been replaying in her mind for the better part of a month.

"It looks like a fucking J. Crew ad," a deep voice from beside her said. It was obvious from the disdain in his voice, her newly appointed step-brother was completely unimpressed by the school's grounds. Not that she was surprised. Greggory Courtenay was hard to impress and often remained fully revolted by the lifestyle their joined family possessed.

A final closing remark of his sarcasm was on the tip of his tongue, based upon his sigh. "God, is that a private jet?"

And we're off, she thought dryly. She knew him like the back of her hand. Celeste had no need to turn and study his expression. It was painted plainly in her mind: scowl present as he scanned the campus grounds that would be her home for the next year. Somehow, his scowl was always present when measuring wealth of others.

Shaking out a piece of her dark hair from her face, she turned to look for her mother, who was pushing her way through a group of students so carelessly it was a wonder someone didn't yell or push back. "Did you remember everything, darling?" she asked in an effortlessly poised tone of voice. Annabelle Leoni--no, Courtenay--was every bit an UES housewife and somehow, never wavered in behaving like a lady.

In fact, she carried a copy of an etiquette novel with her.

Everywhere.

Some people had their faith in an unseen God but Annabelle Leoni--Courtenay--held hers in the pages of a book that all but insisted that being a lady was the only way for women to exist in this world.

It was positively annoying and a bit sad.

Celeste had long ago tried to pry the guide from her mother but it was no use. Keeping the damn thing was apparently her biggest lifeline. Gag.

Celeste shrugged. "I think so."

"Which roughly translates to... probably not."

The playful tone that Daryl Courtenay took on was grating at the very least. Although he'd only been married to Annabelle for three months, they had been together for an entire year before the big day. A match-made in the heavens of gossip fueled society columns, her step-father joked, in a rush, to her one night last week.