Sloane Sisters Read Free

ballet flats, and a NanetteLepore silk leopard-print tank. She threaded a gold leaf earring through each ear and took a deep breath. Whoever these girls were, and however horrifyingly bad their dental hygiene, she was living with them now. Her strategy would be to do what she did best: stay on top—no matter what.
    When she got down to the wide mahogany staircase her heart sped up. She took a few steps and peered over the banister. Emma was standing next to the hall closet, clutching Winston’s hand and smiling relentlessly, the way Ms. Elsa Kelley, Cate’s trying-way-too-hard earth science teacher did right after she got her teeth bleached. The afternoon light flooded in from the half-moon window over the door, making the white marble foyer look too bright and cheerful.
    Cate glided down the stairs, keeping her head held up high. In her leopard-print shirt she felt like a wild animal surveying its territory. This is my house, she thought, pulling her shoulders back. My turf . She stopped on the final step, a few inches above everyone else. The two blond girls were standing across from Winston and Emma, in front of the mahogany credenza. Four Louis Vuitton suitcases sat in a row beside them.
    â€œHi!” Emma called loudly, letting go of Winston’s hand and hugging Cate tightly—a little too tightly for someone she’d only met a few times before. Emma had been around all summer, which meant Cate had spent the summer avoiding her.
    As Emma finally released her, Winston nodded at the two girls and then toward Cate. “This is my Cate,” he said proudly. The younger one, a gangly girl with blond hair that looked like it had been washed with pool water, stepped forward. She washolding a Burberry carrier with some sort of… creature . Cate wrinkled her nose. She hated animals. “Cate,” Emma said softly, wringing her hands together, “this is Lola.”
    Right—Lola. Cate stared at the girl. Lola—which wasn’t a much better name than Lulu—was tall and bony and awkward. She looked like a dying giraffe. A dying giraffe who was wearing tapered jeans that were an inch too short. Cate’s stomach churned miserably. The last thing she needed was another loser sister to avoid in public.
    â€œHi,” Cate said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. She flicked her eyes over the girl’s lanky frame and held her gaze on her bare ankles just a few seconds too long.
    â€œStella, luv,” Emma coaxed. “Come here.” Stella walked across the foyer to the staircase and stood next to Winston. He was scratching his neck, waiting to see what would happen next.
    Cate pursed her lips and coolly surveyed the girl from head to toe. Stella had loose blond curls that just hit her shoulders and huge eyes the color of martini olives. She was wearing a red sleeveless Diane von Furstenberg dress with black piping around the neckline. Over her shoulder was a gray Marc Jacobs Mercer East/West tote—the same exact one Cate had looked at in Bergdorf’s last week.
    The girls stood in silence for a moment. Winston coughed loudly and glanced at Emma, who was still wringing her hands, her lips pressed together in a straight line. Then Cate stepped down from the last step, her feet barely making a sound on the marble. She looked Stella right in the eye and slowly smiled.
    â€œHey,” she said softly. If her outfit was any indication, Stellawas…normal. Someone Cate could be seen in public with. She could even imagine them walking down the hall at Ashton Prep together. Shopping in Soho together. Lying out in Sheep Meadow, talking about the Marc Jacobs spring collection.
    Stella reached out and touched the thick strap of Cate’s silk tank.
    â€œI love your top,” Stella said in a lilting British accent. “Nanette Lepore’s brill. And those earrings. They’re smart.”
    Cate’s lips curled into a smile. “I love your bag!”