Chapter 204

Just like last year, the San Francisco trip overlaps with winter break. That Friday before break, when all the first years are preparing for winter formal, we’re piling suitcases in the courtyard and taking stock of the students gathering around the stag statue.

They’re all there, every single one of the Harpies. The Company.

Whatever you want to call them. I like synonyms; I’ll take both names.

“Of course they’re all here,” Creed sneers, leaning back against a pillar with an insouciant air of privilege. He waves his hand around dismissively. “No third year wants to get stuck at winter formal, unless you’re Lizzie Walton and your father hates you.”

“Stop it,” Tristan snaps, and I watch carefully as the two of them share a long, angry look. They both glance away without a clear winner, and Tristan crosses his arms over his chest, staring Harper down. Rightfully so. She stalks me in the halls, I swear. If I get lax for one second, it’s going to be my hair that’