Page 7 of The Ruling Class (The Fixer #1)

The Hardwicke Hut was essentially a student-run coffee shop that didn’t serve coffee.

“Two everything bagels,” Vivvie ordered, with the air of a fairy godmother granting a most elaborate wish. “And do not tell me you’re out,” she told the boy behind the counter. “You are not out of everything bagels. The world would not be so cruel.”

“We’re not out,” the boy replied. “But there’s only one left. The world is a little bit cruel.”

Vivvie put on a brave face. “In that case, Tess will have an everything bagel, and I’ll have—”

“Half of mine?” I suggested. I would have given her the whole thing, but I wasn’t sure she’d take it.

“I knew I liked you!” Vivvie beamed. As we slid over to await our order, a trio of girls started making their way to the counter. Vivvie mistook my registering their presence as a sign of interest.

“The one on the left is Maya Rojas,” Vivvie told me, like this was some kind of nature documentary and she was narrating.

“She’s a three-sport captain. As a junior.

” Apparently, at Hardwicke, that made Maya a person to know.

“The one next to her, with the white-blond hair?” Vivvie continued. “That’s Di. She’s from Iceland.”

“Di?” I repeated. “As in Diana?” That didn’t exactly sound Icelandic to me.

“Errr … no. It’s actually short for something else.” Vivvie tried and failed to sound inconspicuous.

“What’s it short for?”

Vivvie hesitated. “It’s Di as in D period I period. And it’s short for diplomatic immunity .” Vivvie had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Di’s father is an ambassador, and her real name is pretty much impossible to pronounce. Plus she never turns down dares. Like, ever.”

A teenage girl with diplomatic immunity and a fondness for dares. That won’t end well.

That just left the third girl. Vivvie didn’t get the chance to tell me anything about her, because a second later, the girl in question spotted us. She cut across the Hut like a homing pigeon.

“Vivvie, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Without waiting for Vivvie to respond, the girl plowed forward. “I’m Emilia Rhodes.”

“Tess,” I said. For a moment, Emilia and I studied each other.

She was tall, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes that walked the line between green and blue.

She wore almost no makeup, except for a light gloss on her lips.

“So you’re Ivy Kendrick’s sister,” she said finally. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“I’ll get right to work on that.”

Emilia cracked a very small smile. “Hardwicke almost never accepts midsemester transfers,” she said. “Your sister must have pulled some very impressive strings.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Emilia might have continued cross-examining me, but Vivvie pulled her attention away. “I saw the news about Justice Marquette online,” Vivvie told her. “Have you heard from Henry at all?”

Emilia gave a brief shake of her head. “Neither has Asher. Henry Marquette isn’t really one for communication.

Or sharing. Or the outward display of human emotion of any kind.

” Coming from Emilia, that didn’t sound like a criticism.

“We’ll hear what happens from the papers before we hear it from Henry. ”

Having placed their orders, Maya and Di appeared behind Emilia, like an athletic angel and an Icelandic devil on her shoulders.

“My mom’s already running numbers,” Maya commented. “The president wasn’t expecting to appoint a justice this term. It could be a game changer.”

“Maya,” Emilia interjected, cutting off that topic of conversation completely. “Di.” She looked from one girl to the other. “Meet Tess Kendrick.”

“Ivy Kendrick’s little sister?” Maya raised an eyebrow. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Who’s Ivy Kendrick?” Di asked. Her hair was so pale it practically gave off light. Her accent was sharp—and impossible to ignore.

“Remember the time you got me arrested, Miss Diplomatic Immunity?” Maya shot back.

Di tilted her head to the side. “This sounds vaguely familiar.”

Maya gave Di a pointed look, and after a long moment, a realization settled over Di’s face. “Oh,” she said. “ That Ivy Kendrick. Is she the one who … that thing with Grant?”

Emilia nodded. “I don’t even want to know what she has on the members of the board,” she added, her gaze darting over to me. “Like I said, Hardwicke almost never admits students midsemester.”

I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Emilia stared at me for three or four more seconds, then gave up on pumping me for information. “We should go,” she decided with the force of a monarch declaring law. “I have Latin first period. The Aeneid waits for no man.”

As quickly as they’d descended upon us, the three girls were gone.

“Emilia’s angling for valedictorian,” Vivvie said almost apologetically.

“I’m pretty sure she’s been angling for valedictorian since we were about four.

She comes on a little strong sometimes.” Vivvie took a tiny nibble of bagel, then changed the subject.

“I’m guessing you heard that Justice Marquette is in the hospital. It was all over the news this morning.”

I nodded but didn’t mention that I hadn’t gotten my information from the news.

“It’s so sad,” Vivvie said softly. “His grandson Henry is in our grade, and I hear they’re actually pretty close. But even Henry’s friends aren’t thinking about Henry. Or his grandfather. I mean, Maya’s mom works for the White House, and they’re already talking about replacements.”

I felt a pang for this Henry Marquette and tried not to think about grandfathers—Henry’s or mine.

“What exactly does Maya’s mom do at the White House?” I asked. Vivvie had said the phrase White House the way that kids at any other school might say City Hall. From the lack of emphasis Vivvie gave it, Maya’s mom might as well work at the local mall.

Vivvie blinked several times. I could practically see her reminding herself that I was new—not just to the school, but also to DC. “Mrs. Rojas is a pollster. She analyzes numbers and statistics, does surveys, that kind of thing.”

I hadn’t even realized that was a job.

“What about Emilia?”

Vivvie tilted her head to the side. “What about her?”

“Di’s father is an ambassador. Maya’s mom crunches numbers for the president. What do Emilia’s parents do?”

Vivvie thought for a moment. “I think they’re dentists.”

Emilia did have remarkably good teeth.

“One more question,” I told Vivvie.

She made a finger gunning motion. “Shoot.”

“What,” I said slowly, “ exactly is it that my sister does?”

Vivvie’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “You don’t know?”

I gritted my teeth. “I know that everyone around here seems to know her name,” I said finally. “I know that she apparently got Maya out of being arrested. I know that Headmaster Raleigh is a little bit scared of her, and I know that she got a call yesterday morning about Justice Marquette.”

I hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud.

“Your sister,” Vivvie said delicately, “is, shall we say … a problem solver. When important people in Washington have problems, she makes them go away.”

“What kinds of problems?” I asked suspiciously. With a description that vague, Ivy could be a hit man.

Vivvie’s shoulders moved up and down in an exaggerated shrug. “Money problems, legal problems, PR problems—you go to Ivy Kendrick, and— poof —no more problems. She fixes things.”

I thought of Ivy swooping onto the ranch like she owned the place, packing my whole life up in a matter of days. “You’re telling me that my sister is a professional problem solver?” I asked tightly. “She just goes around, solving other people’s problems? How is that even an occupation?”

“Supply and demand?” Vivvie suggested. “Around here, we call them fixers.”