JAMES
"This party is pathetic."
Wren takes a long drink from the flask and hands it to Cyril, who is next to him, leaning on the fence with the same disgusted expression on his face.
Below us lies Weston Hall, a large, ostentatious ballroom with Maxton Hall's Renaissance windows, woven parquet, and stucco walls. Like the rest of the campus, this room gives off such an atmosphere that one would think
one had gone back to the 15th century... at least usually- Today, the feeling is like landing at a children's birthday party. The decor is cheerful, and the buffet has non-alcoholic punch and hors d'oeuvres in small glass jars with colorful bows. The music is horrible. What the DJ does at his table is like an enigma to me. There's no transition between songs, and it feels like he put on a Spotify playlist and hit shuffle. I expect that, at any moment, an irritating voice will promote another mediocre
rookie who is making it big. Also, the guests aren't clear about the party's dress code. Some are too dressed up, and others are too casual.
In short, the party is a total failure. It seems that someone has tried to bring fresh air to Maxton Hall but has not quite dared throw tradition overboard.
Hence, a curious mix of refinement and innovation has emerged that baffles guests and prevents even a hint of atmosphere from being produced.
"Come on, it's not that bad."—Alistair interrupts my thoughts.
He hides his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, his gaze fixed below the balustrade on the dance floor where a couple of people have just left.
"You're the only one who wants to come to these parties," Kesh points out,
rolling his eyes.
—Because they're fun —Alistair replies, shrugging.
Kesh purses his lips. He takes the flask Cyril hands him and passes it to me without taking a sip.
—Trust me, it'll pick up. -I allow myself a good swig of whiskey, savoring the burn as it descends down my throat.
Wren looks back and forth between Alistair and me. His eyes widen.
—Have you planned something?
I ignore the question and shrug vaguely, but as always, Alistair can't hide his intentions. You don't need to know him well to see that he's up to something. His eyes gleam conspiratorially, and his restlessness gives him away completely.
—I cannot believe it. You've planned something and told him, but not me? —Wren points an accusing finger first at Alistair and then at me—. You're my best friend. I consider this a betrayal.
—Betrayal? —I ask, smiling smugly.
He nods vehemently.
—High treason. A violation against the sacred brotherhood that has bound us since childhood.
—Nonsense.
My dry tone earns me a solid punch on the shoulder.
—You have to see it this way, Wren; he's preparing a fantastic surprise for you —Alistair says, pinching his cheek. Wren grimaces.
—I hope for your sake that it's worth it.
He's already slurring his words a bit, and yet, it's only the third round from the flask. Still, when Wren extends his hand again, I pass it to him. It's practically a sin to be up here secretly sipping expensive Bowmore instead of drinking from a crystal glass, becausebat Maxton Hall parties, alcoholic beverages are only served to parents and alumni. It's strictly forbidden for students to drink or even approach the bar. So far, this hasn't stopped us from having a good time, and most of the teachers turn a blind eye when they realize we've been imbibing. The worst that's happened to us so far is a warning.
My parents donate so much money every year that the school has no choice but to be tolerant. They simply can't afford to be at odds with us or our friends.
—Where's Lydia disappeared to? —Cyril asks.
There's a forced nonchalance in his voice, but he doesn't fool us. He's been hung up on my sister for years. And since there was something between them two years ago, it's only gotten worse. Lydia, who just wanted to have fun, ended things after two weeks, completely unaware that Cyril was head over heels in love and that she was breaking his heart.
Sometimes I genuinely feel sorry for him. Especially when I think that for over two years, he hasn't shown interest in anyone else, and it's clear he's still sad about losing her.
—Don't you think it's time to... I don't know... to move on? — Alistair asks.
Cyril shoots him a murderous look from his ice-blue eyes.
—Lydia went to a friend's house; I think she'll come later — I respond before the situation escalates. Every time we even mention Lydia, Cyril reacts as if we've offended him to the core.
He must never find out that my sister had anything to do with that clueless professor.
Which reminds me, I need to have a word with Mr. Sutton. That jerk shouldn't lay a finger on my sister again, or I'll make sure the rest of his time at Maxton Hall is a living hell.
I regret not giving him a piece of my mind earlier. But ensuring that Ruby would keep her mouth shut was a priority. Especially because there's something about that girl that makes me suspicious.
A couple of days ago, I ran into her in the hallway while walking to Philosophy class with Lydia. As my sister lowered her gaze, I observed Ruby. Our eyes met, but she didn't even blink; she pierced through me as if I were transparent. I did the opposite, locking my gaze on her until I had to turn my head. Her proud demeanor caught my attention. The way she clutched her folder firmly under her arm, her confident stride, and her chin held high. It was as if she were ready for a fight.
Automatically, I search for her in the crowd. My sensors must be honed in on her because, among over a hundred people, it takes only a few seconds to spot her. I lean forward, resting my arms on the balustrade railing.
Ruby is at the edge of the buffet, anxiously jotting something down on a clipboard. She looks up, scans the surroundings, and resumes writing. Abruptly, she spins around and hurries toward the music equipment where the DJ is stationed. A brief exchange of words ensues, and she points to her notes.
I connect the dots mentally. Damn. She must be part of the event planning committee.
The corners of my mouth lift. This is going to be interesting.
Ruby says a few more words to the DJ, who nods in agreement. She then returns to her spot near the buffet, slightly removed from the crowd. She rummages in the neckline of her dark green dress and retrieves an object—a mobile phone. She types something and tucks it away again. Just then, a man in a suit approaches her. When I recognize who he is, I grip the wooden railing even tighter.
Graham Sutton.
Not that I don't distrust any guy who gets too close to my sister, but when it comes to Sutton, my alarm bells go off even louder. Especially now that I see him engaged in an intense conversation with Ruby. Although she avoids his gaze, she doesn't appear particularly angry.
I squint my eyes and curse inwardly for being up here instead of down by the buffet, where I could eavesdrop on their conversation. Maybe it's something as mundane as discussing the party. Or perhaps they're talking about Lydia? What if they're plotting something together? What if Sutton has struck a deal with Ruby? That hadn't even crossed my mind, and I doubt Lydia has considered it either. She hasn't explained how she ended up involved with her professor, but I know my sister well enough to realize that this man means more to her than just a fleeting thrill.
An overwhelming need to protect my sister surges within me. Mechanically, I reach into the inner pocket of my jacket and pull out my phone. I unlock it with my thumbs and swipe the screen left to open the camera.
Ruby and Mr. Sutton are in a dimly lit corner. His hand rests on her shoulder, and their faces are quite close. Upon closer observation, Ruby holds a clipboard between them, and both seem engrossed in it. Apparently, they're discussing the event.
In real life, it's entirely innocuous. But on my phone screen, with a well-chosen angle and decent editing, the situation could be interpreted quite differently. I press the shutter button repeatedly.
—What are you doing? —Alistair's voice comes from right behind me. He peers at my phone over my shoulder.
—I'm making sure —I reply.
He furrows his brow.
—What do you have against her?
I take a deep breath. I wish I'd had more Bowmore to calm my mind. It's been days since I managed that.
—She's seen something she shouldn't have.
Alistair seems to ponder for a few seconds, then nods.
—Ah.
—If she tells anyone, it'll be a real problem for Lydia.
He glances down, observing Ruby still talking to Mr. Sutton.
—I get it.
I take one last photo and tuck my phone back into the inner pocket of my jacket. Then I glance toward the entrance of the hall.
—My guests have arrived.
Alistair's face breaks into a smile.
—Let the show begin.
RUBY
The party is a complete success. At eleven, the guests crowd into Maxton Hall, drinking, eating, chatting, and dancing. So far, nothing disastrous has happened, and Director Lexington has just congratulated Lin and me on this fantastic evening. I feel so relieved that for a brief moment, I consider the possibility of joining the dance floor and relaxing a bit. But I've told Doug and Camille that they don't need to work the rest of the night, and someone has to keep an eye on the buffet to prevent anyone from spiking the punch with alcohol.
During the first two hours, the dance floor was completely empty, which genuinely worried me. However, Kieran, who's on the events committee with me and handles the music, assured me it was normal. And he was right. For the past half-hour, guests have been dancing to a mix of remixes that I personally don't like, but they seem to work well here.
I glance around. Many faces are unfamiliar, but that's entirely normal. The purpose of these parties is to bring together alumni, attract sponsors, and engage parents of prospective students. That's what Director Lexington explained to me two years ago when I joined the events committee. Ensuring students have an enjoyable evening is only a secondary goal among Maxton Hall's activities.
Suddenly, the lights go out. The music stops. I'm momentarily shocked, then retrieve my phone from my bra. 'Damn, damn, damn,' I mutter as I try to turn on the flashlight.
A murmur of discontent spreads through the room, echoing in my head. The party must continue smoothly. Nothing should go wrong—even if a generator fails, Lin and I will be held responsible. I can already mentally hear a disappointed Director Lexington- lecturing us about planning and foresight, and the damage we've caused to the school's image, I immediately leave the buffet. Now it makes no sense to look for Lin; I must find the janitor, Jones, right away to accompany me to the basement and check the electrical box...
The lights come back on. I breathe a sigh of relief and place my hand over my chest. But when I turn around and see James Beaufort behind the DJ booth, my heart skips a beat.
He's talking to the DJ and handing him something—I assume it's money. I grit my teeth. I'm too far away to intervene quickly enough. I glance at the dance floor. A couple of curious guests look around, probably wondering what happened to the music. Others head toward the buffet or the bar.
Just now, when it's already too late, I notice a group of people who don't look like they belong to Maxton Hall's clientele.
—Friends —the DJ's voice announces—, as I've just been informed, today we have a very special surprise reserved for all of you. Are you ready? —My stomach tightens. Across the dance floor, I see Lin and Kieran, pale as milk, frozen like statues—.Enjoy yourselves!
The lights dim until the room is in twilight. A murmur of astonishment ripples through the crowd. The song playing has deep bass and a slow rhythm that makes the crystal chandeliers tinkle. I keep my eyes fixed on the dance floor. Two women and two men start a lascivious dance. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changes completely from two minutes ago. It stops being fun and refined, turning dirty and vulgar. I'm about to approach Beaufort and give him a piece of my mind when someone grabs my arm.
—Are you Ruby Bell? —asks the guy next to me.
I nod, not really looking at him. At the other end of the room, a girl grabs Mr. Sutton and Mr. Cabot, pulling them towards the center of the floor.
'This is a gift from your friend James Beaufort,' he continues, placing a chair behind me, and forcing me to sit. Perplexed, I look up at him. He must be just over twenty years old, with light blond hair slicked back, and eyes as crystal blue as the sky. He stands in front of me and... starts dancing. My mouth goes dry. My mind freezes. I can't believe this is happening. But it is. The guy slowly removes his jacket and loosens his black bowtie. When it's completely undone, he tosses it back, and a couple of women cheer delightedly. Next, he plays with the suspenders of his pants, letting one slip off his shoulder, all the while smiling seductively at me. As the second one slips down, he gracefully spins once on his own axis and defiantly lets it return to its place over his chest. Then he leans toward me and sways his hips to the slow rhythm of the song.
"Do you want to help me, Ruby?" He whispers to me, wrapping my hand in his surprisingly warm hand and leading it to the strap.
"Come on, undress him!" —a crowd of girls shout at me.
This breaks me from my immobility.
I stand up. The guy takes a step back. For a moment, he seems unsure, but then his lips return to form a seductive smile. Without hesitation, he throws the strap over his shoulder and continues the show as if nothing ever happened.
My heart stops when I look from him to the dance floor. Two girls, clad only in shiny thongs and thin lace bras, dance before Mr. Cabot.
This can't be anything more than a nightmare from which I will wake up at any moment bathed in sweat. But when I see Ellington with a man sitting on his lap, and he takes off his suspenders and unbuttons his shirt with
Alistair's help, I no longer get my hopes up. It is all real. Very real.
I turn around furiously, only to discover James Beaufort leaning against one end of the room, watching the show. He holds a glass with amber liquid in his hand, and the expression on his face is close to happiness. Our gazes meet. He lifts the glass, smiling, and toasts in the air with me. The rational part of my brain advises me to first find Lin and then go to the teachers so we can put an end to this madness immediately. The irrational part wants to do something terrible to James, something that will cause him great pain. Despite the irrational part being much stronger, I change my mind and turn away. I can hurt James Beaufort later.
And I know exactly how.