Will,

You weren't supposed to warn her. I can't promise you're safe now.

But to be honest, you never were to begin with.

⋆⋆⋆

As much as I tried, I just couldn't pull my lips into the confident smirk I wanted to. Not anymore. Instead, all I could manage was a grimace of loathing, a seething glare that would make young children whimper. But level one? They'd probably find it comical.

I'd been in front of the mirror for much longer than I should've been, trying to bide my time, knowing my mother was hovering outside, intent on dropping me at school to ensure I actually went. I was ready, the golden headband resting on my hair almost like a crown. They knew about Monica and I, and I was hoping that left them terrified.

In the car I fidgeted with the USB in my pocket, flipping it over and over, replaying in my head the videos that were collated together, ready to be mailed to every student in Arlington.

The first was relatively weak in evidence, but full of potential. Li, drunk or high or both, her cheeks rosy and her eyes wide as between fits of laughter she gestured with her hands the size of the history teachers... ugh, I didn't even want to visualize it. Apparently that was how she was passing her classes. And she thought to brag about it at Maddy's birthday party last year.

The second was also comparatively tame, a clip of Piers being blatantly rejected in front of a host of girls, who found it incredibly amusing. You could even hear Mike's chuckling in the background.

The ash blonde boy was terrible at flirting, cornering a pretty sophomore.

"Hey, babe, I haven't seen you around here before," he'd said, his voice slurred and deep in an effort to come across as seductive.

"That's because I'm new," she'd said, her cheeks heating as her gaze flickered to her friends on either side of her. She was uncomfortable. He seemed to find that cute.

"Would you like to come hang out upstairs?" he'd asked, leaning in closer and letting his hands brush against her ink black hair. She'd recoiled. "We could have a lot of fun."

"I don't want to," she'd replied, her voice growing louder, attracting the attention of the people around her.

"You don't have to make a scene," he'd purred, taking her waist.

If that wasn't enough to condemn Piers, then what she'd said next definitely was.

"You're a creep, you're just rude and ugly. Back off!" Then her drink had ended up on his shirt.

Like I said, it was trivial. But enough to cause him at least some embarrassment. Especially with an ego as big as his.

The next was a little different. Max's video wasn't so much something that would embarrass him publicly, but more something that would make him look like an asshole. And hopefully hurt him in a way the rest of the school body would never know.

It was a party in his own home, and he'd become wildly drunk. So drunk that he was becoming angry, shoving a few guys around and making them leave. Even to some girls, he came across as hostile. I didn't miss Zach hovering by his side most of the night, but it was when he wasn't there that things got messy.

I didn't recognize the boy at first, but it was a student from Richmond Prep. I also didn't know what he'd done to get Max so fired up, but he had him by the scruff of his shirt by the time Mike's camera found him

"You fucking faggot!" he'd said, shoving him against the wall with a thud. The boy looked terrified, especially with Max's broad frame and puffed out chest looming above him. "You think you can do that shit in my own home? You're a fucking homo. You disgust me."

Talk about being an asshole. And hypocritical.

On the night of level one's Junior Prom, the night that I'd spent sitting at Monica's vanity, watching her get ready, Mike had been filming the pre-party at the Davenport mansion. He'd also captured an argument never meant to be overheard.

"What are you doing in here?" she'd asked with venom, oblivious to the camera which had been left recording in Lola's sitting room. I'd learned Mike was sneaky like that, often trying to grab footage that was definitely not included in his payment.

"I should be asking you the same question," he sneered.

Francis and Sophie were standing opposite each other, arms both crossed over their chests defensively.

"You need to stop," she'd spoken, watching him carefully. I could tell she was scared by the glint of fear in her eyes, even though she tried to hide it with confident body language.

"Stop what?" Francis asked, clearly amused as he began circling her with a leisurely pace. "Sometimes I think you love Lola more than I do."

"Maybe I do," she answered. "Wouldn't be very hard, would it Franc?"

"Now now, Sophie, you know the only reason you're in her life is because I let you be there. Don't want things to change, do we?" he'd asked, his smirk switching to a devilish grin. "All it takes is one wrong move, Soph, and you'll be toppling down the social ladder before you could utter another word."

Sophie had scowled at him, her eyes intimidating with her heavy eyeliner. If it had been anyone other than Francis on the reciprocating end of that glare they would have disintegrated into flames. But he only looked amused.

"You're not as powerful as you think, Sophie," he said. "And even if I think of you as a little sister, I will not hesitate to destroy you if you get in my way."

After that, the footage cut out, for what reason I wasn't sure. But the contents would still be enough to send ripples around Arlington. That was for sure.

And then there was a compilation of videos from different parties scattered throughout the last twelve months.

The odd slip of Lola and other people out of busy rooms, the fleeting moments where something in a little bag would slide from her hand and into the palm of someone else. The cash falling from her purse when she dropped it after someone bumped into her.

Then, the nail in her coffin. Jonas, the boy with studded lips at the party, boasting to his friends about buying cocaine from Lola Davenport.

Because, for whatever reason behind her actions, Lola was dealing drugs. That would become obvious to whoever watched the footage. And that would be everyone.

"Try and concentrate today, Chloe," my mom said, her voice gravelly with concern, shaking me from my thoughts. "I'm serious. No boys or chit-chat about parties. Just try and catch up on work, okay?"

"I will, Mom," I lied, my mind anywhere but where it should be. School work seemed so distant right now, especially when my life could be ruined within the next hour.

"I'll see you at three, okay?" she asked, reaching forward to pat my knee. "We're having a meeting with Ms. Neal."

That was news to me. Of course she'd spring it on me before I had time to worm my way out of it. I sighed, but tried to hide my attitude as I pulled together a small smile. "Okay."

When I took my first step through the halls of Arlington, I expected all eyes to turn to me, and for people to start laughing, or throwing tomatoes, or anything.

But they didn't. Instead, chatter was flowing through the students about something much different.

"They just left?" one girl whispered within my earshot as I cautiously opened my locker, my whole body tense.

"Yep. Picked up and ran away. Nobody knows why, or even how, but my bet is that they're secret lovers and are running away to get married in the Netherlands."

"Wait, you think they're gay?"

"Definitely. Why else would they run away together?"

"No way. Not Max and Zach."

My hands fumbled with the padlock. Max and Zach had left. Had they actually left, or had these rumors simply spiraled out of control?

"Hey, Whittaker."

My heart almost twisted out of my chest at the sight of Maddy Danton standing beside me, a bright grin on her face as she leaned against someone's locker.

And then, almost as fast as the relief had developed, it faded. Maddy wouldn't be an ally to me anymore. Not if she knew.

She could be here to destroy me.

"Hi, Maddy," I said, with enough hesitation to make her raise an eyebrow.

"Haven't you missed me?" she asked.

"Uh – of course," I said cautiously. Then I let my smile grow a little, casting an uneasy glance around us.

"Aren't you going to ask?" she asked quietly, her eyes flickering down to her stomach. She was cradling it ever so subtly.

Her question had almost made it easy to pretend I wasn't being hunted by level one as we spoke. My mind was instantly brought into the world of Maddy Danton and the monstrous problems she was facing.

"Of course," I said, shaking my head to show her I was clearing out of my daze. "How is... it?"

Her bubbly smile only made me wary. "I took another test. Four actually. They were all positive."

"Aren't you... worried?" I asked, frowning.

"Well, obviously, I mean I'll never be able to stay here. If Francis finds out..." Her voice trailed into nothingness before she perked up again. "But it's okay. Daddy has a house down south, I'm going to move in and go to college once this is over. Especially after Sophie and Lola's games last week. I'll start a new life, you know?"

My frown deepened. She wasn't making any sense. I moved closer so I could whisper. "Maddy, you know... babies don't just happen and then you go on with your life and go back to studying and making new friends. They're a commitment. A lifelong thing. You're going to have a lot of work to do."

"I know," she said, rubbing her lips together to spread the layer of gloss she was wearing. "That's why I'm going to give it to a rich family who are old and wealthy and can be better parents. I mean, what has this kid got to look up to if it's with me?"

She let out a borderline hysterical laugh.

"I mean, me, the drug addicted whore. and Francis, the psycho power-hungry asshole."

"Maddy..." I said, her decisions resonating a pool of concern in my stomach. "You don't have to listen to what Sophie told you. You could talk to someone, get some counseling. I know you could stop drinking and whatever else. And you have plenty to offer, including money, which is probably one of the biggest issues for teen moms..."

She waved a hand, blowing off my suggestions. "I'll deal with it later. I have to get to class."

"Maddy," I said again as she began turning around. I was worried for her, even if my body was already brimming with anxiety for myself. "This isn't some little decision you can make and forget about."

"I know." Her brown eyes darkened and her smile turned from bright to saddened in the flash of a second. Then her gaze fell on something behind me and her eyes widened. She took a step backward. "Well, Chlo, it looks like the devil incarnate herself is after you. I better go. See you later."

I opened my mouth to ask her to stay, the only instinctive move my body could muster. Then, when she turned around and walked away as fast as possible, I screwed my eyes shut, not ready to face whatever was waiting for me. I felt like a prisoner waiting for their execution, and in that moment I'd have taken that over Lola's wrath a hundred times over.

Oh God, please don't let me die, I thought, my silent prayer to whoever would listen. And then, to the girl who all of this was for in the first place, I love you, Mon.

The thought of her brought me some ounce of strength, and I took a deep breath, pushing back my shoulders and raising my chin. Then I turned around to face her.

Sure enough, Lola Davenport was heading for me, but not exactly in the way I'd expected. I'd pictured her standing tall and made up to perfection as always, her heels tapping on the linoleum floor, her sides flanked by Sophie and Li, the faintest of smiles playing on her scornful lips.

But instead, I saw a contrast to the girl I imagined.

Lola Davenport was coming for me, but not with anyone by her side. And, for the first time, she was wearing not a trace of makeup, which was clear by the gray circles under her eyes and her bare lips, which were so frequently coated in red. She looked tired, maybe even a little stressed. Worried.

"Chloe," she said, her tone not piercing or deathly, or even mean, but instead thick with some kind of emotion. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do this."