Curse of the Wickeds (The Cinderella Society, Episode 2) (14 page)

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Sarah Jane pushed open her door, ready to toss our trash and get rolling. “Don’t underestimate her, J. There’s more to Lexy than you think.”

I’d never seen the Range before—the Wickeds’ home base—so Sarah Jane took the long way back into town and gave me the grand tour. We passed a palatial estate surrounded by a regal wrought-iron fence. “That’s Worthington Estates, the camp where Paige is working this summer.”

My eyes bugged out. It wasn’t like any camp
I’d
ever seen. “Are you serious?”

“It’s a training ground for daughters of the most famous Cindys on the planet. They also invite high-potential legacies whose moms aren’t famous, but it’s a huge deal to get an invitation. It’s where they go to get their first taste of Cindy ways. All done without compromising our secrecy, of course.”

How cool was that? “But why the daughters of famous Cindys? Don’t they already have all the opportunities?”

“They’re also under the microscope more than other girls. Everything they do is news, so there’s no incentive for them to stretch. No one wants to see her personal failures, even the small ones, on a cover in the checkout lane. But like I said,” she added, “it’s not just for famous legacies. Other legacies can be nominated too. They want it to be a mix of backgrounds: the famous daughters need time to be around regular girls who don’t want anything from them, and the regular girls need to get comfortable around the rich and famous. It puts everyone on the same level.”

I wish I’d had that. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so star struck around Audrey that first day at the Grind.

“Not that the girls know any of that,” SJ chuckled. She glanced in the rearview mirror as we left the fence behind. “They just think it’s a posh resort camp their moms send them to every summer.”

The estate faded out of view as we drove on toward the Range. “The selection process for camp counselors is super competitive. Paige had the Cindy leader job, Girls Inc. Discovery Leadership® credentials, and tons of volunteer work swaying the odds in her favorite, but she still had to go through three sets of interviews plus get recommendations from five Deltas before she landed the job. It’s a major win for her. You should try to meet her there at least once while she’s on staff. It would be good for you to see that piece of the Society.”

She turned onto a gravel road a few miles down and slowed to a stop near an abandoned driving range with a beat-up golf shack to the side. “Here we are.”

I looked around at the cracked concrete and waist-high weeds. “Here we are where?”

“Welcome to the Range.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I’d been so caught up with tales of the estate that I’d stopped paying attention to our immediate surroundings. If Sarah Jane hadn’t looked serious, I’d have thought she was playing a joke on me.

The Range was a run-down driving range owned by one of the Wickeds’ families. It had closed years ago when the side road it was on hadn’t been paved with the rest of the county. Over the years, the paved roads grew with homes and businesses until few people even ventured down the old private road.

After a minute, Sarah Jane drove on a ways and pulled off onto the shoulder, shielded by an outcropping of overgrown bushes.

As obsessed as the Wickeds were with the appearance of power, the Range was anything but a commanding presence. Inside, I had no doubt it had been upgraded to the Wickeds’ usual over-the-top standards. But outside, it was forgettable. The clubhouse sat back from the road, looking old and battered and lifeless. Paint peeled from the siding, shutters hung haphazardly around blacked-out windows. Weeds grew in clumps all over the parking lot. Most people wouldn’t give it a second look. But the second look would’ve given them a clue that everything was not what it seemed.

Underneath the leaf-filled gutters on the overhang hid high-tech security lights. Security cameras were tucked into crevices on the old floodlight towers that would’ve lit up the range for night practice in its heyday. Chains draped across both entrances, but an unobtrusive electronic fence at the far end provided access to the grounds. A large storage barn had been built next to the clubhouse, probably offering space for parking away from prying eyes. Even the door to the clubhouse, though weathered and worn in appearance, was solid and reinforced with double locks.

It gave new meaning to the phrase “hiding in plain sight.”

SJ drove the rest of the way to the dead end. A beat-up El Camino was parked crookedly near the steel fence that marked the end of the road. Sarah Jane made a slow three-point turn and drove back past the clubhouse again. But instead of heading straight for the main drag that would take us back into town, she slowed by a stand of trees on the far edge of the parking lot. She rolled to a stop, squinting her eyes into the woods.
 

I couldn’t see anything at first, but movement near the base of a tree caught my eye. One of the Wickeds seemed to be standing there talking to someone, waving her hands in anger or frustration, I couldn’t tell.

Sarah Jane started to roll forward.

“Wait,” I said, squinting more closely. That couldn’t be right. Not a Wicked but—“Is that
Heather
?”

We watched as Heather disappeared into the woods, only to reappear guiding a man by the elbow. The man stumbled over the exposed roots, clutching the remains of a six-pack under his opposite arm. Heather looked around the Range, deemed it safe to cross, and stepped out onto the gravel heading for the far side of the property near the dead end.

That’s when Heather saw us. And Lexy saw Heather.

A figure had emerged from the barn area while we were focused on the woods. A string of Wickeds followed her, all striding purposefully toward Heather and her dad.
 

I’d unbuckled my seat belt and opened my door before Sarah Jane could get out a word of warning. “This isn’t your fight, Jess.”

“How can it not be?” Leaving Heather to fend for herself was bad enough. Leaving her to fend off a crew of Wickeds on their home turf while keeping her dad upright was inconceivable. “I’m going whether you help or not.”

My backup reluctantly opened her door.

The Wickeds snapped pictures on their cells as they closed in, Tina using hers for video. I hoped it wasn’t a live feed.

“Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better,” Lexy told Heather as we approached from behind. “You couldn’t make this more fun if you planned it.”

Heather turned to her dad. “Go wait in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lexy took in his dirty shirt and frayed jeans, disgust curling her lip. “And while you’re at it, try to remember the last time you showered.”

Mr. Clark puffed out his chest as if indignant, causing the remains of the six-pack to slip out from under his arm. He made a grab for it before it hit the ground. The remaining can burst and sent a stream of beer sailing toward Morgan’s capris.

“Freak!” she screamed.

Mr. Clark’s anger—probably at losing his last beer—centered on Heather. “Don’t give me orders,” he growled, slurring his words just enough to be noticeable. He lifted his chin and made his way unsteadily across the parking lot toward the waiting El Camino.

Lexy looked like she’d been given the gift of the century. “What to do with these new pictures,” she clucked. “What to do, what to do.”

“How about nothing?” I said as we came up behind them.

Lexy whipped around, as did the other Wickeds. A flurry of camera clicks followed.

“Pretty bold, aren’t you?” Lexy said. “This is the first time any of you have been brave enough to set foot here.”

“That you know of.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This is private, Thief, and you’re trespassing. You have no business here.”

“Heather against the six of you? That hardly seems fair. At least Heather’s strong enough to stand on her own. She doesn’t need a posse of hangers-on to shadow her every move.”

“But she needs you.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Because we”—I made eye contact with Sarah Jane—“want to be.”

Sarah Jane gave a curt nod, but said nothing.

Lexy turned back to Heather. “Don’t think this is over, Clark Bar. I have special things planned for you.”

“I already told Cameron the truth. He’s not speaking to me, so I really don’t give a crap what you do with the pictures.” Heather jutted out her chin. “Go vent on someone else.”

The Reggie had finally found her voice.

Maybe it was a backup she could count on. Or maybe this was just her time.

Lexy looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I’ll use those pictures to wrap my Christmas presents this year. Don’t you have any pride?”

Heather looked past us to the El Camino, where her father was unsuccessfully trying to open the door. Her eyes met Lexy’s. “What do you think?”

She pushed past us before Lexy could respond. We watched her go: Lexy calculating her next move, the Wickeds snapping pictures, Sarah Jane in silence.

“She may not have any pride left, but I know someone who does
and
who likes his privacy.” Lexy and Tina shared a look of anticipation that made me uneasy.

Mr. Clark might have his pride, but I doubted even he could believe he had any kind of privacy. His drunken escapades were legendary. With only one person left in Heather’s Support Network box, it wasn’t hard to figure out what Lexy had in mind.

Cameron might not be speaking to Heather, but he was about to get called on by the leader of the Wickeds.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The chairs in the leader’s office aren’t nearly as comfortable as they look. Sure, they have a soft microfiber finish and nice high backs, but when all you want to do is flop down and chill out, they kind of miss the mark. I really needed a chill chair.

I’d been hiding out at the table in the office, working on different scenarios that could explain the Wickeds’ big plan. Meanwhile, the hot ball of anger in my stomach grew. The butterflies were getting scorched. Having to share the office with Paige at the moment wasn’t helping matters either.

Sarah Jane had lectured me all the way back from the Range on choosing my battles. If I stepped in to save every one of the Reggies, they’d never learn to fight for themselves. As far as I could see,
never
stepping in wasn’t the answer either.

Here I was, busting my butt for a Sisterhood who a) would only back me up when I played by their rules, b) kept me in the dark about the whole secret vault thing, and c) wanted me to leave Heather to the wolves after she’d confided in me.

I felt like a pawn. A mouse in a maze trying to find my way to the finish line while giant, hovering people closed off this turn and that, all the while telling me it was for my own good.
 

“Just be proud that you accomplished your mission
and
gave Fortissima a critical heads-up about the vault at the same time,” Paige was saying. “That’s a huge win all the way around. Fortissima is impressed.”

Right then, I didn’t give two snaps about Fortissima. Who cares about the big picture when the Reggie you’re trying to save is sinking?

But Paige couldn’t see that either. “I know you want to save everyone, but you have to keep your emotions in check. You’re leading the fight, but you’re not doing it alone. You can’t win if you don’t have the Cindys behind you.”

Keep my emotions in check. Sure.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be a Reggie with no support system, Paige. For you, this is all strategy. For me, it’s personal.”

“Do you think you’re the only Cindy who was ever a target?” she asked incredulously. “When I was a freshman, there was a senior Wicked who had it in for me. I’d just about given up on ever getting away from her the day she tripped me in the cafeteria and my lunch and I went flying.” She paused, her eyes getting that distant look of recall. “I remember the sound the tray made when it hit. The noise was deafening. I don’t think there was a single person who wasn’t looking at me sprawled out on the floor with milk pooling around my knees and tuna surprise in my hair.”

I shuddered. Lunch was the most vulnerable time for anyone’s social status. Getting hammered by a Wicked in the middle of Social Central was a fate worse than tuna surprise itself.

“I wanted to cry,” Paige said, “but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. And then Cassie got up from the cheerleaders’ table. She walked over like it was the most normal thing in the world, helping me pile things back on my tray and dump it.”

Paige’s shoulders relaxed, nightmare over. “If Cassie hadn’t stepped up when she did, I probably would’ve let the Wickeds win. I would’ve just given up. But I didn’t because Cassie, that one time, showed me I was worth helping. The next time that Wicked came after me, I decided to help myself. I stood my ground, and that’s when things finally started to shift. Little by little, I climbed out of the pit I’d let her dig for me.”

She looked back to me. “You don’t have to save everyone, Jess. Sometimes a random act of kindness that seems like no big deal to you can mean the world to someone else. Let her be the hero of her own life.”

We worked in silence after that. There was comfort in knowing Paige had gone from Reggie target to well-respected Cindy leader. And I understood what she meant about the random acts of kindness thing. SJ stepping up at the Grind—after Lexy spilled hot coffee on me—had given me hope for the first time since Lexy had set her sights on me.