I’d like to propose a toast,” Jasper von Holstadt roared above the din in Tudor House’s dining room, staggering to his feet. No one paid the slightest attention, so Jasper seized Dylan Taylor’s dirty butter knife from the next seat over, and pinged it insistently against his glass. “Toast! Toast!”
The party of twenty-four boys and girls suspended their conversations and turned to him expectantly.
“That’s more like it,” Jasper declared. He stood there with a fuzzy look on his aristocratic face, made handsome by its long, elegant nose, and cast his droopy, disdainful eyes about the room. Before getting aboard the bus to come to St. Cecilia’s, Jasper and Rando had knocked back several shots of Tequila Gold up in Jasper’s bedroom, and the effects hadn’t exactly worn off. But by the looks of it, they weren’t the only ones who’d indulged in that sort of preparation. Everyone was completely wasted, and it certainly wasn’t from the stingy glass of revolting school wine that they’d been allowed with dinner.
“Well, make your speech, then,” jeered Rando. “Go on.”
“You go on!” Jasper bellowed. “Ahem. As I was saying. Girls… No, no, what am I talking about? Ladies, thank you for inviting us into your humb—humble abode.” He hiccuped, then began to sing in a deep baritone, “For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld la-ang syne!”
“Stop! It isn’t New Year’s,” ordered Rando. “That’s worse than opening an umbrella indoors.”
Jasper tipped the dregs of his wine down his throat. “Who bloody cares!”
“Hear, hear!” cried their classmate Olly Rylands, chipping in from the other side of the room. He jumped up from his seat and started to unbutton his fly.
“Bloody hell, Ryles, put it away!” Jasper banged on the table. “Any excuse to take your clothes off.” It was true. Ryles was famous for his mania about getting naked whenever possible. If you went round to his house for a dinner party, it was guaranteed that at some point during the evening he’d bring out the cards and insist on a game of strip poker.
As people started shouting over each other again, Rando turned to Tally and gave her an embarrassed eye-roll. “Please forgive my friends’ antics.”
“Don’t worry.” Tally smiled. “I’m used to it. Remember, they’re my friends as well. I’d probably have a heart attack if they didn’t act like animals.”
Rando nodded, staring raptly into Tally’s silver-gray irises. They sparkled like deep seas kissed by the sunrise. He couldn’t believe he was this close to someone so perfect. In Rando’s memory of Tally from George Demetrios’s party, she was the most ravishing girl he’d ever laid eyes on. Now he realized he hadn’t done her justice. She was the most ravishing girl anybody had ever laid eyes on. Her marble-smooth skin dimpled ever so slightly at the corners of her mouth when she smiled. Her tiny, perfect hands fluttered about when she talked. He wanted to capture them in his own and hold them forever.
Rando congratulated himself yet again on being cunning enough to nab a seat next to her tonight. As soon as the Hasted House bus had arrived here, he’d pretended to need the bathroom, then dashed straight to the dining room to swap his seating card round. Now to his delight, when most other people had got bored of their neighbors and were leaning across each other to talk to their real friends, he and Tally were still chatting away.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Rando said, pushing his plate and its pile of soggy ratatouille to one side. He’d hardly been able to eat anything for the entire meal, his heart was beating so fast.
Tally blushed. She wasn’t used to boys asking for personal information. Usually, they were either too nervous to speak to her, or too arrogant to realize they should be nervous. The arrogant ones didn’t generally ask questions. They just plied her with alcohol till she kissed them. But Rando was different. He kept smiling at her attentively, and she was growing to like his pointy little teeth.
“So, my parents have been divorced since I was four,” she resumed her story. “My dad got remarried last spring. His new wife’s an ogre but I have to be nice to her or they might not let me stay with them when I’m in London.”
“Wonderful. Fascinating,” Rando said. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Tally shook her head.
“For fuck’s sake,” someone groaned behind them. It was Alice Rochester, wearing a tiny purple dress and an irritated scowl across her face. She plonked herself in an empty chair and drew it round till she was between Tally and Rando. “This is completely interminable.”
Rando frowned. Talk about cock-blocking. He only had one more hour to get Tally’s number. At ten thirty on the dot, his housemaster, Mr. Brand, was due to emerge from his civilized dinner in Miss Sharkreve’s flat next door, and drag his inebriated students back to Hasted House.
“Sounds like you need a refill.” Tally winked at her friend. “There’s more wine upstairs in our trunk.”
“But Tally,” Rando broke in, putting on a selfless voice, “Alice looks so tired. Why don’t you and I go and get some for her?”
“No,” Alice sighed. “It won’t help.” She directed a death stare across the room. “Just look at that slut. What does she think she’s doing?”
At the other table, Dylan was wearing a low-cut top that looked like someone had vomited black sequins all over it. Her hair was hanging loose over her shoulders. She was pawing Jasper’s hand and holding it up to a candle, apparently trying to read his palm.
“I always knew she was trashy,” Alice sneered.
Dylan laughed brashly and leaned forward. Her melon-sized breasts practically tumbled onto Jasper’s dessert plate.
“Hmm. She’s quite hot,” Rando commented, staring. “Yeah. Really hot. I can definitely see Jas going for a girl like that.”
“As if you have any idea,” Alice snapped, obviously forgetting that Rando and Jasper were related. As she spoke, Jasper left Dylan and rambled over to their group.
“See?” She crowed triumphantly.
“Mate.” Jasper draped his arm round Alice and breathed a cloud of wine fumes into her face. “That Dylan character is awesome. She’s so cool. Why don’t you ever invite her out with us?”
Alice and Tally exchanged looks.
“Excuse me.” Alice lifted his arm away. “I think I will get that wine after all.”
Were all boys so fucking insensitive, she asked herself as she headed out the door and stomped up the stairs, or just the ones they knew? Just then, she bumped straight into someone on the way down: Mimah Calthorpe de Vyle-Hanswicke.
“Hey,” Alice said.
“Hey,” Mimah replied. She felt a little thrill; that was the first word Alice had spoken to her in months.
Letting her ex-friend pass, she crept down the stairs and peeked into the dining room. Dylan was sitting by herself, the chairs around her deserted, skimming her finger through the flame of the candle in front of her.
Mimah gave a little smile. Dylan wasn’t the only one playing with fire.