They don't play to win. They play to hurt.
Sterling Academy's irresistible reputation all came crashing down last year when a list of the 'top thirty girls too...' had been anonymously published.
Now recovering from the pits of hell the media dragge...
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THE EVANDERS ESTATE is not empty like I planned it would be, I'm more than exhilarated when I round to the corner and I notice the dim lights shining through not only the stories but throughout the perimeter of the historical seeming primitive old fashioned mansion.
"Amber Zhu," I buzz in the gates in front of the mansion, the electronic system — one of the only modern things the estate owns — recognises my name on the lists Sage put me under and automatically has the grand white iron gates open up letting the limo in.
I thank Polo swiftly, before exiting the car. When he asks how long I'll be, I brush him off and tell him to wait. I don't plan to take more then half an hour, unless trouble ensues.
I tighten my grin on my bag and I press my red-painted lips together in anticipation. Walking up the stairs leading to the double doors shouldn't be as nerve wracking as it feels.
It fails to feel anything but fearing however, when you're scheming. Take it from me.
My skin-tight black dress makes it a chore to have full mobility but I'm used to it, so I don't presume I look entirely awkward. Mother signed up for private etiquette lessons when I was six and I've been accustomed to walking in all types of clothes, shoes, and everything else that falls under the sun.
Putting my fingers in between the hollow of the engraved 'E' door knocker I hit it against the wood planting and let the practiced smile upon my lips break.
I've decided to go with the classic 'I left something, and need to pick it up from Sage's room.'
In my case, the last time I was over I'd purposefully planted one of my Pantehère De Cartier earrings on Sage's bedside table when he hadn't been looking. Pressing my hand against the inserted bra padding of the dress I trace my manicured finger along the silhouette of the key.
I'd received it the day that Sage had left for London and eyed it for an extra two days after that. It's near criminal how exact looking it is to the image.
The chill of the evening begins to nip at my exposed skin, and so I knock on the door again — this time a little more ruthlessly. The lights are open, does that not mean people are in?
Maybe I need to start explaining what knocking on a door means. After that I'll run a lesson on time and the importance of it. Then, a two hour lesson about weather and how to not treat your guests when it feels as though a snow storm is bound to approach.
I haven't finished my internal rant before just the smallest bit of one of the double doors creaks open, exposing not even a full eye to me.
"Sorry the Evanders are out," A timid voice mutturs on the other end.
"Yes I know, I just left something here." My tone is clipped. I stick my black heel into the doorway and nudge it open. The girl on the other side doesn't relent so I'm forced to give it a bit of a kick and much more force than I'm proud of using. Usually, my words are just enough. They should be enough, clearly I'm lacking in either conviction or power if this girl is contesting me.
