Survival of the Fiercest Read Free Page A

“run away”—but she’d never been good at taking orders. “We have more important things to worry about. It’s very demanding, being in the most popular clique at Ashton Prep.”
    Blythe leaned down, like she was addressing two small dogs. “Nice try, but two people isn’t a clique,” she pointed out. “It’s just friends .” She smiled triumphantly. The Beta Sigma Phis stalked back to the other side of the room and spread out on their mats, a bundle of gray legs and purple torsos.
    â€œWhat does Blythe know?” Stella whispered under her breath. She reached her arms above her head.
    Cate glanced around. There, in front of the room, EleanorDonner and her four friends were stretching against the wall. There, by the mirror, Shelley DeWitt was practicing plank with Betsy Carmichael and Paige Mortimer. And there—sitting all by themselves—were she and Stella. Two friends.
    As Eleanor’s clique erupted in laughter, Cate couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just this once—Blythe had a point.

THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS AN UNPOPULAR MODEL
    I t was last-period study hall, and Lola had gotten through the entire day without being an awkward, clumsy twit. She’d woken up early to straighten her hair, and some eighth-year in gym had even told her it looked “hot.” At lunch, she’d eaten strawberry frozen yogurt with Andie and her best friend, Cindy, and in orchestra she’d been given a viola solo in “Themes from the New World Symphony.” For the first time since she got to New York, Ashton Prep was bearable.
    Now she was in study hall, the girls around her hunched over their desks. A short brunette with too much eyeliner was reading Pride and Prejudice while another girl drew two sine curves on graph paper. Lola couldn’t help thinking the sketch looked a little obscene, like a pair of knockers.
    â€œCookie?” the girl next to her asked, keeping her voice low. Technically, no one was allowed to talk during study hall. She offered Lola a plastic Tupperware container filled with lumpy cookies that looked greenish in the fluorescent light. “They’re vegan.”
    Lola took a bite of one. “Mmmm,” she said, pretending it didn’t taste like cardboard. She only had two mates at Ashton Prep (if you counted Cindy)—she wasn’t in a place to hurt anyone’s feelings. “Thanks.” In the front of the room Mr. McGregor, their study hall proctor, looked up from grading papers and put a finger to his lips.
    â€œI’m Thea,” the girl whispered. “You’re in orchestra, right?” She had an auburn bob, and her blue button-down looked a few sizes too big. Lola recognized her from the cello section.
    â€œRight,” Lola choked down the bite of cookie. “I’m Lola. Andie Sloane’s stepsister.”
    â€œI didn’t realize that!” Thea cried, earning her another loud shush from Mr. McGregor. “I’ve known Andie since preschool.” Lola smiled. She always felt more confident mentioning Andie when she introduced herself. Everyone knew who Andie was, and everyone seemed to like her.
    â€œOur parents just got married,” Lola added. She swallowed the last of the cookie, thankful it was gone.
    â€œI noticed your necklace,” Thea whispered. “Do you ride?”
    Lola felt for the gold horseshoe charm around her neck. “I did . I had a horse back in London.” She used to keep her palomino colt, Starlett, at Wimbleton Village Stables. She missed riding through the English countryside, looking out for the wild deer that always cut across their path. When they moved, they’d sold Starlett to a middle-aged man named Francis, who had red hair he wore in two braids, like Pippi Longstocking. Wherever Starlett was, wherever Francis was, she hoped he stroked her nose the way she liked and remembered to bringher brown sugar