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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I'm deep into ocean-floor sleep when I hear it.
My phone, squawking from the floor.
I feel it hum under my grappling fingers.
Anxiety spikes through me
Incoming call: Orson 💖, the screen reads, and a snapshot of us, from Ultra Miami- just before the drugs and Luciana, kissing in front of the stadium, sated and exultant, brimming full of love.
I think I'm dreaming but I pick up the call anyway.
"Amory,'' the whisper comes, raspy and full of terror, "Amory, I- I did something."
"Orson? What's going on?" Words sticky in my sleeping mouth.
"I don't know what- what happened. I blacked out and then before I knew it..."
A hard ball fell into my stomach. Devon must have done it. All my cards had been dealt.
"Orson," I say, rolling over, trying to blink myself awake. "Where are you? What's going on?"
"Something happened, Amory. I did something terrible."
Orson's voice is so peculiar, thin and wasted. My gut twists but I need to play this card. It's the only way I could cover my tracks and gain some playing ground.
I walk across the room and move my laptop mouse to wake my laptop. I quickly log into the secret surveillance cameras and bugs I tape across Orson's house and my chest alleviates, trying to stifle my deep gasp at the sight I see.
Orson in his living room, hunched over a body, crying. The body is bare, arms stretched out, like one of those laminated saint pictures we always brought from the catechism. Saint Sebastian, his head always thrown back, body both luminous and tortured.
The body is Elijah M. Calloway. I make sure to press record.
"Orson, baby, Orson, where are you? Orson, where are you?" I sound concerned and worried like I practised a few hours before in the mirror.
I stifle all signs of convoluted joy- the ultimate revenge and safety net forged together into a double-edged sword. My eyes are pressed to the forlorn form of Elijah Calloway dead at the hands of his own son and my stomach hums with the glow of glory.
I've completed it. I've completed my vendetta against the Calloway family and I've saved myself.
A pause, a creaking sound from his throat. "Please come, Amory. Can you please come here?"
"I'll be right there, baby."
-
Orson lets me in through the basement so no one can see me. The sharp smell on him when he opens the parking lot door for me, is so thick it hovers in the air around him. I recoil at the blood stains on his fingers. His face is bright, his legs shaking.
