Page 12 of Good Girls Lie

“JPs?”

“Judicial points. It’s like demerits. Get five and you’re stuck in Saturday school. Hurry!”

Mum’s voice rings in my head.Pride goeth before the fall...

“Hey, Piper? Thanks for the warning, and the offer of the dress. I would appreciate borrowing it. But just for today, until I get some of my own.”

“Sure thing,” Piper says, handing it over. I run back to the room, strip, and throw the dress over my head, careful to make sure the price tag is tucked into the collar. I fully intend to hand it back after dinner, though I should probably have it cleaned. The trainers I’m wearing will not do. I have a pair of black flats tucked away in my bag, shoved into the shafts of my beat-up Dr. Martens. I dig through the bag; the boots are at the bottom. The second dong of the bell shakes the building, and by the third, I’m out in the hall, fully clothed, gowned, and shod, and we are racing down the stairs with the rest of the stragglers, out the back of Main Hall toward the chapel.

9

THE CONVOCATION

The chapel is, like most things at Goode, undernamed. It is more like a cathedral with its sandy stone exterior and stained glass windows, the roofline soaring a hundred feet into the air. The remains of two hundred young women push and shove their way into the chapel, chattering loudly, robes flowing behind them. One last toll of the bell, the ring dying into the early evening air, which still shimmers with heat, and we are all inside the nave and hurrying into our seats.

Inside it is a bit darker, but not much. The energy in the air is palpable, the noise deafening, not hushed and respectful. The rafters are so high the echoes reverberate. Voices call and shout, girls squeal with laughter. Trying to remember the class color schemes, I stick close to Camille, Piper, and Vanessa, grateful for their presence, especially when Becca Curtis notices me.

Becca and another senior are handing out some sort of pamphlet, and I try to duck toward the girl on her left so I won’t have to come face-to-face with the bully again, but I’m jostled by the crowd right back to her. I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact, take the proffered paper, and start to move into the chapel, but the universe conspires against me. Becca rips the paper back, forcing me to a stop.

“So. You’re our mad Brit.”

Camille grabs my hand and tugs. “Leave her alone, Becca.”

“Shut it, Shannon. Carlisle here can speak for herself.”

I’d rather crawl into the nave’s warm brown wainscoting and disappear, but Becca is staring at me, challenge in her eyes. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

I know I can’t let Becca bully me. I need to stand up to her. But I hate conflict, hate it. I say the words under my breath and Becca cocks her head.

“What? Speak up. I couldn’t understand you. Surely you know how to speak.”

The sneer undoes me.

“Yes, I do. I said, better a mad Brit than a daft cow.”

“Ooo, snap,” Camille says, eyes wide.

Becca’s lips go thin, and her face turns red. Her voice is soft, deathly cool. “Aren’t you clever, little Brit. We’ll see how smug you feel later, shall we?” The threat in Becca’s smile is unmistakable.

“Later?”

“Move along, little ones.”

Becca resumes passing out fliers and Camille yanks on my arm.

“Come on. Hurry. Before she changes her mind.”

We take our seats in the chapel, which is broken into class quadrants by layers similar to the dorm housing—freshmen in the front pews, then sophomores, juniors, and seniors at the back.

Camille’s eyes are shining. “I can’t believe you mouthed off to Becca Curtis.”

“Whatever. She was hounding me earlier, when I was checking in. Told me to take the left staircase, the Evens’ stairs, told me I’d get a single if my roommate died. I don’t like bullies.”

Vanessa shakes her head, lips pursed in concern. “That was a dangerous thing to do, Ash. Becca Curtis is powerful. Why did she single you out?”

“No idea. Her mum is a senator, I heard. Maybe she hates immigrants.”

“No, I meant here, at Goode, she’s powerful. Doesn’t matter who her mother is, though it’s hard to forget, sometimes. Camille told you my mom works at the State Department, right? She doesn’t care for Senator Curtis. Anyway, Becca is head of the judicial board. She handles Honor Code violations, plus she’s class president, and rumor has it she’s head of Ivy Bound, too, but no one knows for sure, not unless you’re tapped and get in, that is. And the odds of one of us getting tapped are slim. Not as sophomores.”