Survival of the Fiercest Read Free

she’d spoken to her friends was at the Pierre. She’d managed to go three whole days without responding to Blythe’s texts or talking to Sophie and Priya on IM. But she could barely eat, and when she heard Blythe’s name her entire body tensed up. Everything—the framed photos on her dresser, the four matching sleeping bags in her closet, or the Feist songs Priya had put on her iPod—reminded her of her ex-friends.
    She felt for the Tiffany locket on her neck. Blythe had given it to her as a gift so her mom could be with her, always, wherever she went. Cate knew Blythe, Priya, and Sophie were mad, but her father had gotten married two days ago, and none of them had even asked her about it. Priya said nothing in homeroom, and Sophie barely looked at her when she passed her in the hall. It was as though their Beta Sigma Phi hazing involved Cate Sloane lobotomies.
    Cate glanced across the room just as Blythe approached. She was swinging a disinfectant spray bottle in her hand, Priya and Sophie close behind her. Sophie offered a quick little wave, looking like she was on the verge of tears. She was never good at fighting with anyone. Even when Priya slow danced withSophie’s Haverford crush at the eighth-grade bon voyage dance, she’d only stayed mad for twenty minutes.
    â€œOh, how the mighty have fallen,” Blythe cooed, her gaze settling on Cate. She put her hands on her hips, sticking out her newest assets.
    â€œWow.” Cate glanced at Blythe’s yoga pants. “I’m surprised you managed to put a whole outfit together by yourself. It must be hard for you to function without my running commentary on your life.” As the former president, Cate was always the one who gave final verdicts on outfits, the one who marked everyone’s birthdays (and half birthdays) on her iCalendar, and planned every sleepover three weeks in advance so they never conflicted with Blythe’s weekends in L.A. with her dad, or the times when Priya’s sister was home.
    â€œI’m doing just fine—thanks for your concern.” Blythe turned to Stella. “Ready for your first trial? My dad’s visiting next weekend with my baby brother—I could use someone on twenty-four-hour diaper duty.”
    â€œIsn’t that what Priya and Sophie are for?” Stella asked innocently.
    Priya’s nose scrunched in disgust. “Very funny,” she mumbled.
    â€œI don’t want to change diapers,” Sophie whispered nervously, tugging on a flattened strand of light brown hair.
    Blythe ignored her. She cracked her knuckles so loud the entire room turned around. Eleanor Donner and her friends were perched on the edge of their mats, as though they were watching an episode of The Real World: Ashton Prep . “I need to see some more enthusiasm, girls. It’s going to be an incrediblybusy year for me, being the new president of Beta Sigma Phi and all.” She paused, as though she were appreciating the sound of the word president . “I don’t have time for your games.”
    Cate could feel Paige and Betsy’s eyes on them, watching from the other side of the room. “We’re not playing games,” she said through clenched teeth.
    Blythe pressed the disinfectant bottle into Cate’s hands. “You can start by wiping down my mat. Kimberly Berth was practicing over there, and now it reeks of her Britney Spears perfume.”
    â€œActually,” Cate said coolly, “there won’t be any trials. We’re starting our own sorority.” She pressed the spray bottle back into Blythe’s hand, the pink liquid sloshing around inside. Cate watched Blythe’s smile fall.
    â€œSo, in other words,” Stella hissed, “wipe down your own bloody mat.” She was good at a lot of things—still-life drawing, talking Bridget and Pippa out of boy-induced moping, finding Heath Bar whenever Lola frantically claimed he’d