DELANEY CALLS ME LATER THAT night. By later, I mean when I'm already snoozing in my bed. "Who's going to pop Drew's bubble?" she snaps.

"No-one," I huff sleepily. "We're going to go through with the new plan."

A cynical laugh slips from Delaney. "Right. What is the new plan, exactly?"

"We're going to make some new friends."

"You're kidding me."

A moment of silence from both of us. Delaney repeats emphatically, "You have got to be kidding me."

"Sorry, Laney."

"Okay, for one scary moment, you sounded like my sister. Don't call me Laney."

"Request denied."

"Bitch," she growls. "I don't think it's going to work. You can't seriously think it will. Do you?"

A significant part of me doesn't think it will work either, but we've been fighting the Monarchy the entire year, only taking an offensive approach. It's time to switch tactics, I think, because Brittany is looking for full-frontal attacks. She's looking for defiance.

Not gestures that squeeze through the cracks and steal her allies away from her.

"If you guys don't want to talk to them, don't. I've already got some of their trust, and I'll keep it for as long as it's useful. Once you get knowledge, you can't get rid of it. And that's all I need. I certainly won't be looking for new best friends."

"Just promise me you won't suddenly want to forgive them because of something they tell you. Drew's already hoping they can change." Delaney warns me with urgency, "You have to be smarter than that."

"I'm never going to forgive them," I assure her. "There is no doubt about that."

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I've always believed I'm a good musician.

In elementary school, I learned how to play piano from a set of old theory books Mom and I found at a garage sale. Most of my musical knowledge is self-taught. And here I've been thinking that was impressive until Derek shows me his score for our music test. Everything right for theory, everything right for aural. Green ticks all over the place.

That bastard.

It's one of those few moments when I lose my composure and I can be read like a book. Derek laughs at me. "Your face! Priceless."

I feel a lick of discomfort on my spine hearing such camaraderie slide off Derek's tongue, but I remind myself of my new mission. I need to get close to him to get what I want. An easygoing smirk naturally falls on my lips. That expression of confidence and lightheartedness has become my automatic defense when I want to mask my emotions, I realise. "Just wait till next time. I'll beat you."

"Oh, you can't beat the best."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ashley's head turn in our direction. My eyes can only meet hers for a second, before dropping away in guilt. She looks absolutely baffled by the lack of tension between Derek and me, betrayed even.

I know I can trust her with any Revolution business whatsoever, but this mission is on a need-to-know basis. She probably thinks I've suddenly converted or something. Whatever she thinks of me, I'll endure because at least the real plan will be safe. This is our last shot for freedom before school ends. Not for the senior class, who will be leaving, but for everyone who's ever been walked over. This sick pattern can't go on.

Honestly, I don't even know how we ended up on the same table as Derek and Madison. The usual table arrangement was messed up when I walked in, probably from the cleaners moving them around in the spring break and Mr. Quesnel being too damn lazy to rectify it. Ashley, Quen, and Callum are at the end of the row. Leah is sitting with me and, having been clued in to the new tactic, isn't confused or offended by my interactions with Derek.

Shuffling towards me to peek at my result, he nimbly grabs the papers under my arms. Again, my body has a weird response to his proximity. It's beyond uncomfortable to be this close to a face that stirs up my hate.

My fingers twitch to slap his hand and hide my score from him. It's not polite to invade like he is, but my excessive smiling and laughing must have sent some very encouraging signals, just as I hoped. All of a sudden, Derek has been more open with me than I've ever seen him with anyone. He's acting like a friend.

"Whoa." His mouth drops when he sees my mark, "You are really bad at aural."

"Shut up."

As I am walking to my next class, Ashley pulls up silently next to me. "What's going on with you, Sophie?"

The distance between us is big enough for another person to walk between us, and she carefully keeps it this way. I frown imperceptibly at the idea of Ashley being cautious of me. I keep my gaze straight. "Um, school, mainly," I reply. "What's going on with you?"

"You know what I mean. I'm worried about you, and the Monarchy. I've seen this happen before."

"Seen what happen?" I say the word that must be flashing in her head. "Corruption?"

"Well . . . I saw it all happen to Monarchy years ago. Reece had a big social circle and was really approachable. Then he started hanging around Brittany, and he lost it all. The same thing happened to Terrence in his sophomore year. Around this time, actually. I'm sure neither of them meant to get sucked in when he first met her, though. It's all about the influences you surround yourself with, Sophie."

She hesitantly looks at me, like I might bite her head off if she offends me. Something pangs in my chest. Does she really think that I would abandon the Revolution like that? "That's not what's happening here. I know how it looks, but you need to trust the girl who's made it this far."

"Of course I trust you. But I don't trust the Monarchy. You might not think they're manipulating you because it's hard to see things clearly when you're stuck in the midst of it all."

"Don't worry about it. This is just a case of keeping my friends close, and my enemies closer. I am still as dedicated to the Revolution as I was the day I started."

"Okay. I was just warning you. Take care of yourself."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

It's taken me my entire life up to now to consciously realise how hard it is to make people like you. Especially when they already have first impressions of you set in their mind. I added the four of them on what little social media I have. I've been slowly inching my way closer to the Monarchy over this first week back at school following spring break. By slowly, I mean slow.

It's so hard to keep a civil conversation with them, Reece and Madison especially, sometimes I will just give up for the day because I can't be bothered. My body disagrees viciously each time I take a step towards any one of them with appeasing motives in mind. Shaky hands, disturbed stomach, red cheeks. The lot.

Delaney, being the most reluctant of us with the new plan — but not opposed to it — is enjoying my discomfort tremendously. She and I only have English together, which is a class without any Monarchs, so she thankfully hasn't witnessed my attempts at making nice first-hand. But from Leah's recounts of Music and Benjamin's recounts of Calculus, Delaney is practically laughing her ass off at me every time we meet.

The things I do for the Revolution . . .

I've nearly made it to the end of Friday, and Benjamin and I are walking to our classes together. He and Leah are not as enthusiastic as Drew about the plan, though not as dubious as Delaney. Those two are somewhere in between. Drew's all for it.

However, Benjamin is certainly the most level-headed and pragmatic of my friends, and he gives reasonable, objective advice. Having a familiar person to go to makes the whole process bearable, to be honest. Spending time with those four Monarchs would have driven me insane or made me hungry for their blood — they can be extra-infuriating — had it not been for my real friends.

Even Benjamin's presence is therapeutic to my mind. I don't have to speak to him to get things off my chest, I just need to unwind in his safety. I want something less than talking. Something simpler than the frantic rush to find syllables that are relevant, and somehow lead to another conversation, I have to do with Derek. Conversation with Benjamin somehow makes me feel at ease. The change of surrounding — and person — is a puff of pure oxygen in a pair of smoker's lungs.

So I've found myself confiding many of my hopes and worries about this strategy to him. Just before we turn down the corridor to Calc, Benjamin asks something of me. "Don't talk to Derek about me."

My eyebrows slant in curiosity and concern. I hope nothing is wrong. "Why would I?"

We've stopped a few paces away from my Calculus classroom. I notice Derek at the end of the hallway leaning casually against the wall, looking at me. How long has he been doing that? When he realises I've seen him, he glances away almost sheepishly. Benjamin notices too. Although Derek is now preoccupied with his phone, Benjamin still glares vehemently at him, making the muscle in his jaw tick.

"I don't know. Maybe he'd gloat about what happened with League last year. Or anything else," Benjamin's voice is tight. Like his words are bitter seeds he has to spit out. "I just hate being talked about. Especially by him."

"Of course, I will steer clear of you."

Benjamin nods, satisfied. "You're getting close to Derek. And I know this is part of the plan, but I wanted to just remind you that they're the enemy."

I feel a stroke of relief in my chest. Here I was thinking he was revoking his support for the plan. Benjamin is very adorable when he is paranoid, but I can understand why he feels this way. It's a risky move I'm taking, but that is how desperate we are becoming with the year waning.

Shaking him like a teddy bear, I squash his shoulders into a hug, not caring if Derek sees. "Aw . . . You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not going to suddenly switch sides and run off with the Monarchy into the sunset."

"I know." I can feel his chin move on my head as he speaks.

"Good, because you guys are my best friends."

"Forever, or just while it's convenient?" Benjamin jokes lightly.

"Dumbass. Forever."

Benjamin loosens his grip and shoots a venomous stare behind me. Derek must be approaching the classroom. Finally, he unfixes his stare, vanishing inside. Slicing through the crowd like a hot knife through butter, Derek makes his way steadily through the throng of students to me. Now, why can't navigating the hallways be that unobstructed for me? Unfair, man.

When I get to the door, I regard Derek with a suspicious gaze. "Why aren't you inside yet? I saw you down the hall minutes ago."

"Bad boys can't get to class before the geeks do. It's bad for my image."

As I take my seat, a memory pushes its way to the forefront of my brain, bringing heat to my insides. During the start of school, the worst part of this class was Derek because he always regarded me as if he knew more; that itself pissed me off.

But it was also his stare. So relentless and dominant, like he was always a second away from snapping and throwing a chair across the room. I made the mistake of sitting near him the first week. He would trap me in that bizarre stare whenever I answered Mr. Weston's questions, whenever I shared my stationery with the girl next to me. When I met his stare with a confused, questioning look of my own, it morphed into a dangerous look.

He scared me a bit.

Now I can't imagine being scared of him, this preening, slightly-insecure boy. "Ah, yes. You and your precious image." Derek truly is more anxious about his reputation than I ever thought a person could be. I joke, "Are you sure you weren't waiting for me?"

"Pfft. I don't wait for anyone."

"Of course. Whatever you say."