25 - Variations and Adaptability

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"That's a multiplication sign, babe," Chontelle said as she traced a finger over Sienna's math homework. "Not addition."

Sienna's delicate face crinkled into a small frown as she re-read the question. "Huh. I was so sure, too."

"You have to read the question slowly," Kat declared, removing her strawberry lollypop from her mouth to wave it in the air. "It's the biggest cause of mistakes, you know. Not reading the question properly."

"Is that so?" Nate smirked.

Kat shrugged as she popped the candy back into her mouth. "Probably."

It had initially surprised me to find the Elites taking their education so seriously. I remembered them mostly for goofing off in classes and sometimes skipping them altogether. But, whether it was because it was senior year, or because of the mounting pressure that their parents had placed on them to live up to their families' names, my new frenemies had traded in their after-school hangouts at the mall for extra study time in the library and, every so often, actually put that time to good use.

Although, in true monarchical style, they had managed to reserve the generous private study room, intended for all seniors, for themselves only.

I couldn't really complain, of course. Not after they had extended me an invitation to join them.

The calm of our brown-leather-cladded room was disrupted by a thunderous force as Astor and two guys from the football team burst through the doors, immediately swarming our snack table and taking whatever remained.

To my relief, Matt wasn't amongst them. I hadn't had English that day, and aside from briefly catching his eye across the cafeteria table, I had all but avoided him.

"Would you shut up?" Sienna ordered the intruders, her hands fluttering to her temples to ward off a coming migraine.

Sienna may have laughed off her (many) mistakes when they were raised in front of the group, but I could see that frustration was brewing beneath her perfectly cool and calm exterior.

That's what you get for blowing off homework until senior year, I thought smugly.

Although, in all fairness, my own grades weren't in the best shape, either. While I was still managing my English workload, I had fallen behind in math and history, and I'd intended to catch up on Sunday after camp. Of course, my spiked-drink-induced hangover had quickly destroyed those plans.

"D'you need my English notes?" A smooth voice drawled as I saw Astor Black slink towards me from the corner of my eye.

It wasn't a genuine offer. No way in hell. For starters, I had never seen Astor take notes during any one of our classes together. Least of all in English, where he could usually be found scrawling through Instagram or doing hell-knows-what-else on that stupid matte black iPhone of his.

Rather, I was pretty sure that Astor was alluding to my arrangement with Matt — notes and notoriety in exchange for sex, apparently. The thought of my slimy ex-fling and the cocky football captain discussing that arrangement between themselves made my blood boil with anger.

Luckily for Ana, she was wearing Elle's mask. And Elle had become quite skilled at pretending not to feel whatever Ana did.

"No, thank you," I said simply, without lifting my eyes off of the book in my hands.

But that didn't stop Astor from taking the empty wooden chair next to mine.

"How old are you?" He asked, starting to unlock that obnoxiously-expensive phone of his. 80085, he typed into the security screen.

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