Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,1

Francis overlooked. That’s what Monica said, anyway.

Maddy was the daughter of a pop star, granting Level One the privileges that came with fame: limousines, and red carpets. Zach monitored all the gossip in Arlington, keeping Level One ahead of the game. And Lola oversaw them all. The six of them were, until now, unbreakable.

But I was determined to break them.

I wasn’t like Monica. Monica always wanted to be them. She wanted the spotlight, and she wanted the adoration that came with being on top. But to them, Monica was like a newborn foal trying to stand. She was cute, but she could be easily knocked over. And when they knew of someone’s vulnerabilities, the games began.

No, I didn’t want to be them. I wanted to destroy them. To expose them for what they were, to make them feel as humiliated as their victims, to make them pay for what they did to Monica. I wanted to show everyone what they did, no matter how hard they tried to cover it up.

Observe, blackmail, initiate, infiltrate, intelligence, collect, and expose. I had it all planned out. An undercover exposé, one Monica would be proud of. One that would make things right.

“Chloe Whittaker. That is not you.”

I couldn’t prevent myself from jumping as a figure slid into my peripheral vision. I’d chosen a table upon the mezzanine overlooking the cafeteria, hoping it’d be the best place to observe the Level One clique eating lunch without being noticed. But clearly I hadn’t hidden myself well enough.

“Jack,” I said through gritted teeth, my shoulders relaxing slightly and the corners of my lips raising in a small smile at the familiar face.

Jack Thomas’s dark eyes zigzagged as he assessed my appearance. “Makeup? Since when?”

I let my mouth curl further into a smile. “Do you like it?”

He snorted. “It’s quite an improvement.”

“Thanks,” I responded with a tight smile as he greeted me with a hug.

Jack was sweet and unbearably awkward. He’d somehow managed to remain acquainted with me throughout high school, despite how little effort I’d put into hanging out with anyone but Monica.

“So, what are you doing up here? Spying on Level One?”

“Don’t say that,” I grumbled. The Level designations belonged to Monica and me. “I’m just enjoying the quiet.”

“Right . . .” he said, his voice trailing off a little. “It must be really hard coming back without her here.”

I didn’t respond, avoiding his gaze and letting my attention drift back toward the cafeteria.

It was enormous, with a high ceiling and large tables spread neatly around the hall. Today it was filled with conversation of adventurous summers and laughter as groups of friends reunited. As if by some unspoken law, Level Ones sat at the table in the center.

The table was occupied by Arlington’s six elite, each member’s name printed onto my list. Almost fully occupied. The seventh seat, which had housed their past experiments, was empty today. At one point in time, it had belonged to Monica.

My eyes found William Bishop, a tall boy with a sharp jaw and dark brown hair. At the moment, William was the most important member of the group.

Because William was my in.

Over the last few months, I’d been carefully mapping out what made each member of Level One tick. Sophie wore secrets like armor, teasing the outside world with a plethora of possible scandals, plenty of potential dirt to be dug up beneath her designer heels. Maddy was the opposite. She was an open book, almost to the point of being an exhibitionist, and I hoped her recklessness would become a powerful tool. Something I could use to catch clues. Lola and Francis ruled the kingdom, but I knew there was more to their relationship than met the eye. And with those two at the peak of Arlington’s hierarchy, there was far to fall when it came to unraveling their games. Zach was ego-driven, and that trait alone meant he’d be easy to knock down. Large egos meant easy self-destruction. And William?

I narrowed my eyes, taking him in. Of all Level One, his reputation appeared the most pristine. That was, until I investigated his family.

My father had showered me with countless gifts throughout my lifetime, but none was as important as the one I’d stolen from his emails two weeks ago. His news corporation had plenty of unpublished stories, thanks to his company accepting some hefty bribes. Dad’s business was dirty, sure, but not quite as scandalous as what I’d found. Charles Bishop, the long-term mayor of Los