Page 77 of The Ruling Class

“I need to do something.” Vivvie’s voice was quiet, but it vibrated with an intensity of emotion that told me thatneedwasn’t an exaggeration. “I need forusto do something.”

“What?” I asked.

“Something,” Vivvie insisted. “Talk to your sister again, or set up a meeting with the First Lady, or … or …something.”

It had been four days since her father’s funeral. A week since he’d killed himself. Eleven days since she’d told me what she’d overheard.

So much had happened. And now it felt likenothingwas happening. Nothing except the media practically paving Pierce’s road to a nomination with gold. Because of that article in thePost.

Because of some anonymous source.

“Okay,” I told Vivvie.

Her eyes grew round. “Okaywhat?”

“Okay,” I said. “I have something we can do.”

Step one: Waylay Emilia Rhodes on her way to class.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you. Turned anyone’s twin even more delinquent than usual lately?”

I took that as a cue that I didn’t need to bother with niceties. “The day you told us that Vivvie’s dad had been fired, you mentioned that you’d heard it from a freshman whose mom works for theWashington Post.”

Emilia arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to get to the point.

I obliged. “Which freshman?”

Step two: Make nice with the freshman.

Vivvie took the lead on step two. She was better at being nice than I was. Eventually, she dropped my name, and the freshman was all too happy to call in a favor with “Uncle Carson”—the man who’d written the article—in order to put herself inTess Kendrick’s good graces.

Word of Georgia Nolan’s impromptu visit had spread, and that only served to remind people that my sister had some very powerful friends. What money was at most schools, power was at Hardwicke. It wasn’t about who had the nicest car or the biggest house. It was about who had the bestconnections. Through no fault of my own, I’d edged my way back onto the A-list—a problem I’d deal with later. For now, all I needed to do was prepare for my meeting with good old Uncle Carson, who thought he was being interviewed for some kind of school project.

“What’s step three?” Vivvie asked me, just before the final bell. Dr. Clark cast a warning look at us, but a second later, the bell rang. Vivvie and I made our way into the hallway.

“Step three,” I said, “is finding some leverage.”

When the reporter met with me, he probably wouldn’t be happy to find out that I’d arranged the meeting under false pretenses. He definitely wouldn’t be in the mood to volunteer his source’s identity.

Even if he could be persuaded to do so, I could hear the First Lady saying,he would want something in return.

And that meant that I needed something the reporter wanted.

And that meant that I needed Henry Marquette.

CHAPTER 47

Henry wasn’t just ignoring me. He was avoiding me. When he saw me coming his way, he made his excuses to the group he was talking to and ducked into the boys’ bathroom.

Presumably, he thought that I would not follow him.

He obviously did not know me very well.

Henry cast a glance at the door when it opened behind him, then did a double take when he realized it was me.

“Really?” he said dryly.

I leaned back against the door, blocking his exit.