Wealth, status, and beauty define the elite of Kensington Prep. Every one of them possesses the ability to get away with anything and everything they want, unscathed and remain as privileged and superior as ever.
But Amory Scout decides that tim...
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It was Parker who barged into the suite Orson and I are sharing, frantic. "Guys, it's Luciana! Something's wrong!"
"What?" I sound so bleary as I untangle myself from Orson's limbs and check my phone for the time. It's six a-m, two hours since we got back from Ultra, and yet the sun has already climbed over the horizon on the ocean and flares its reflection across the bright blue expanse, the golden gleam becomes a long, blaring finger aimed at me through our frail bedroom curtains.
Wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe with last night's makeup smeared across her face, she wears an alarmed expression as she pads over to the bed, over to my side, and shows us how Luciana has called her three times. "I've tried her like ten times and I tried to knock on her door but she's not answering!"
Orson rubs his eyes tiredly and yawns but not before he put on a t-shirt over his bare torso. "Let's get management," he says. We follow him down the winding, grand corridors and soon find ourselves in the lobby speaking to the desk manager. We explain our situation- well, mostly Parker did, and soon enough, the desk manager summons the security guard. We rush back to Luciana's suite, where the security guard swipes the passkey over the door, and we swarm inside.
There's no sign of anyone in the bed or on the private terrace, but in the marble bathroom beside the deep soaking tub, we find Luciana lying unconscious in a pool of dark green bile.
-
After Luciana's parents got the call that Luciana was in intensive care, the medical helicopter her parents had chartered was already waiting on the tarmac of the private jet airport to airlift Luciana to a hospital in New York. We follow close behind a day after in Hanif's Gulfstream V, only to find that the nurses are disbarring anyone from visiting Luciana at the moment- just relatives only- as Luciana's organs dwindle into critical condition. Eventually, we all just cool off back to our own houses- Orson and I retreating into his stately penthouse, Hanif, Phineas and Aidan staying over at Aidan's townhouse while Parker remains curled up on a blue vinyl chair in the hospital's waiting room.
Orson and I arrive the following day, at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, carrying trays of steaming hot cappuccinos. I survey the waiting room.
Ms Santiago was in grey ultra-skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination, a diamond intarsia cashmere sweater I remembered reading about in Prada's catalogue and silver heels with cutouts at the toes. She has packed on concealer to hide the developing dark circles under her eyes as diamonds the size of chickpeas glitter in her ears. Even though Ms Santiago, the glamorous reality star of Real Housewives of New York, is looking uncharacteristically dishevelled with her messy hair and puffy face (red, from all the crying), she still has golden, lineless skin while her chocolatey hair falls in silky soft waves over her chin, collarbone, breasts, and I watch one single strand shake in the stream of her breathing.
Mr Santiago is slumped in the chair closest to the two giant double doors, jiggling his left foot, looking annoyed at the fact that he's here instead of the office, barking into his little Bluetooth earpiece, even though there's a sign near the emergency ward's reception desk that says no cell phones. Phineas, Hanif and Aidan arrive later as I shake Parker awake in her seat and hand her a coffee. I dish her a sweet smile, "You're favourite," as she groggily blinks at me, and I know the overly-bright hospital lights overhead illuminate me in her sleep-driven eyes, making me look like an angel from heaven above delivering her coffee.
