Chapter Twelve Piper

Chapter Twelve

Piper

Three Years Ago

Coming to the party was a mistake. Piper knew it as soon as she entered the McMansion. She adjusted her dress for the umpteenth time, cursing her mom for suggesting it. "You can never go wrong with a little black dress," she'd said, but Piper didn't think the adage included "from your mom's closet."

And now here Piper was, looking like a middle-aged PTA parent compared to everyone else in their vibrant colors, sequins, and plunging backs.

But Camille had invited her, and their coach had given Piper a warning: Teammates reflect on each other, and me. Code for "Make sure Camille doesn't drink or do anything reckless." Coach Beal was worried about Camille's new besties, who were notorious for underage partying. The Olympics were still years away, but the pandemic had set everyone back, and the next few years were critical.

At this point the Olympics felt so close, within her grasp. But stress rose up her throat every time she did the math, calculated the missed opportunity to go at her peak, at fifteen. By 2024 she'd be skidding toward nineteen. The odds increased every day that she would get injured—or that some younger girl coming up would snatch her dream away.

Or Camille would.

At the very least, they'd be competing for the same D1 college team spots. Piper versus Camille: it had been that way since Piper moved to LA and joined the gym when they were eight. Now they competed for friends and grades at Warner Prep, too. But maybe that was all part of a seminormal high school experience. Hadn't that been what Piper wanted? After years of missing sleepovers, vacations, even the eighth-grade Winter Wonderland dance, Piper wanted normal. So getting invited to this party was a big deal. A chance to socialize with some of her peers, even if a lot of them were internet micro-celebrities.

Piper scanned the patio for other people she recognized and immediately clapped eyes on Willa Hawley. She was sidling away from Wyatt Riemer's attempts to grind against her hip on the dance floor. And was that a middle schooler talking to the new kid, Liam? Declan was to the side of the DJ booth, doing some TikTok dance for a twenty-something guy with an iPhone slotted into a carrier thing. And Camille was by the bar with the Plastics.

Coach had said she had to watch Camille. She'd said nothing about having to talk to Camille.

Piper made her way to the dance floor. She tapped Willa on the shoulder, and the girl had never looked so happy to see another person. She latched on to Piper's arm with a surprisingly strong grip. With a tug, Piper pulled them both into an opening in the crowd so they could dance away from Wyatt's prying eyes—and hands.

"Omigod, thanks," Willa rattled off at speed. Definitely tipsy. "I didn't know how to extricate myself."

Willa was an overachiever who used words like extricate but couldn't stand up for herself. Piper would have just elbowed Wyatt in the stomach. At least, that's what she had done at a seventh-grade field day when he'd grabbed her by the waist and tried to whisper something in her ear. People didn't mess with Piper after that.

"How's the party been?" Piper asked. "I just got here."

"Oh, fine. I can't believe they're letting us drink like it's no big deal!"

Piper almost made a quip about different rules for rich people, but she decided against it. The thing about Warner Prep was you couldn't always tell the super-rich kids. There were plenty who carried a different designer bag every day, but there were stealth ones too. Those who hid their money in subtle ways and weren't utter assholes to everyone. She didn't want to hurt Willa's feelings if she was one of them.

"You're probably not drinking, though, right? Because of gymnastics?"

Piper nodded, flattered Willa remembered. She was nice if a little neurotic. Piper never would have guessed that of someone who was best friends with Delaney Moss.

Soon the music took over. They danced to the mix of pop-funk and electronica until sweat dripped down Piper's brow. Freestyling like this felt amazing; there were no rehearsed moves and no marks to hit. No Coach Beal shouting at Piper to make it sharper next time. Willa was an excellent dancer, too. She threw in fast spins, complicated hand-foot coordination moves, and lost herself to the beat.

"You're really good!" Piper shouted over the music.

"Oh, thanks! I used to do West Coast swing on the weekends. Not since the pandemic, though."

Willa's concentration kept drifting to something past Piper's shoulder. Piper finally gave a twirl in order to look—Willa's aim was obvious. Liam Parker-Yang was nearby, dancing with Delaney. Delaney, unlike Willa, was not ultracoordinated. She defaulted to the sexy-girl classic: sidling close to her partner and giggling a lot.

When she turned back, Willa's expression was grim.

"Do you want to get a drink?" Piper threw out, thinking that distracting her would outweigh the risk of Willa becoming drunker. Maybe she wouldn't notice if Piper got them both soda.

Willa nodded.

"Hey, ladies! Here for the next round?" Eden popped up like a jack-in-the-box from hell, Camille close at heel. "Juan over there"—she waved and winked at the bartender, who begrudgingly nodded back—"is mixing up some Cosmos for us. Don't worry, Pipes, he's doing both virgin and the real thing, so just wait a second!"

Pipes was not nor had it ever been Piper's name, and she hated it very much, thank you.

"I'm just going to grab some more cheese," Piper announced, in an attempt to keep her cool. "Anyone else want some?"

Willa's face lit up, but upon seeing Eden's and Camille's sneers, she clamped her mouth shut and shook her head too. So Piper made her way to the food table alone, taking a moment for just her and some sharp cheddar to gather herself. But she had a cheese-loving shadow. It was the middle schooler she'd spotted earlier. His eyes were glued to his phone screen, volume low but audible as he watched some video. Every so often he'd snake a hand to grab some cheddar between clips.

"Hi," she said, half unsure. Would a kid really be living in a content collective? Declan's parents had let him move in, though, and he was only sixteen. Influencers were weird.

"I'm Piper," she added, to be polite.

"That one's from Trader Joe's," the kid said, pointing to a white mound of crumbles while his screen was paused. "My mom buys it. It's the best. And I'm Noah. Liam's my cousin."

It all came together. Liam had said in his introduction spiel on his first day that his cousin was a seventh grader at Warner.

"Nice to meet you, Noah." Piper popped a bite of the sharp, zesty cheese into her mouth. "Having fun?"

"Not really." Noah grabbed another cheese slice.

"Well, that makes two of us," Piper returned.

Noah watched her, trying to spot if she was messing with him. After a beat he seemed to decide she was okay. Piper gave a wry grin. "At least the food is pretty good. I think I spotted achocolate fountain in the dining room. Might be worth a look."

"Thanks for the tip." Noah already had his face buried in his phone again; now he retreated inside, quickly absorbed by the crowd.

As Piper turned back toward the bar, she caught Eden in her periphery, a small white bottle in her hand poised over one of the drinks. The glass was set apart with a tall toothpick that had tiny green streamers fountaining from the end. Piper was too confused to react, unsure what she was seeing. She watched as Eden squeezed the bottle gently and several drops fell into the glass. Then Eden stirred the liquid with the toothpick and went on like nothing had happened.

What the—

Piper power walked back over to the group, eyeing the glasses on Eden's tray. That cup with the green-tipped toothpick was lasered in her sights. As Piper drew up to them, Eden was handing out drinks to the other girls, the tray dwindling down to just that last drink.

There was one other glass with a party toothpick, this one topped red. Eden handed it to Camille, and some strange look passed between them when she did. That left the offending green-toothpicked drink for Piper.

"I'm not taking that," Piper said through gritted teeth as Eden attempted to pass her the glass.

"Excuse me?" Eden reeled back slightly.

"You put something in that drink. I saw you."

Eden scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Camille took a large sip from her glass in order to hide an oh shit expression. A knowing expression.

Piper turned to her teammate. "Is that why you invited me to this party? To prank me or something? What did you put in that drink?"

A crowd was gathering, including the guy who had been filming Declan. Now he had Piper in his sights.

"Or was the whole point to prompt a catfight for the cameras?" Piper chanced a guess.

"You sound crazy, Pipes." There was Eden with that nickname again, and she threw an innocent look over at the camera, like this was some performance.

One thing about being fashionable: Piper was confident that Eden's dress didn't have any pockets. Which left one place where that little white bottle could be.

Piper lunged past Eden, reaching for the tiny clutch she'd left on the bar. Eden teetered on too-high heels, and had nothing on Piper's catlike reflexes. Camille, of course, could keep up with Piper physically, but she grokked her plan a second too late.

Piper yanked open the silver clasp, plunged her hand inside, and fished out the offending object.

"Visine? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Don't be so dramatic." Eden rolled her eyes. By now the rest of their classmates had gathered.

"You either invited me here as a prank or not," Piper said. "And it's awful convenient your cameraman was at the ready."

Declan threw up his hands. "It was just a little poop prank. No big."

Piper narrowed her eyes at the lot of them. "Then you're stupider than I thought."

With one last withering look, Piper pushed through the small crowd and headed for the front of the house, rage radiating through her every step.

The shitty part was that it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. Piper knew that if she called her mom, she'd turn right around and head back to Malibu, but her rescue would come with a million questions and that trademark Mom worry. And her mom would tell Coach Beal, and that would come back on Camille, for sure, and—

"Piper, wait!"

Speak of the devil.

Though a part of her wanted to keep walking, Piper stopped. They were in the marbled foyer. Very cinematic. "Thanks for inviting me, Cam, really great party."

"Hey, chill out! It's no big deal."

"Did you follow me to apologize or to gaslight me?"

Camille rolled her eyes. "Declan pranks all his friends. You were going to become one of us."

Piper rocked back on her heels, crossing her arms over her chest in a way she hoped came across as smug. Sometimes Camille was so gullible. "Do you really believe that putting Visine in someone's drink makes people shit themselves?"

"Uh, yeah. That was the point. Declan saw it in a movie."

"Well, Declan dropped out of high school to become TikTok famous, so maybe don't take medical advice from him."

Camille waved her off. "Declan's entire channel is about pulling harmless pranks—you know that. We needed a good one for his TV pitch."

"So it was a plan. Let's break it down, shall we? First, humiliating someone isn't a harmless prank, especially without their consent. Second, Visine is poisonous. "

"That's stupid. People use it all the time."

"In their eyes, " Piper volleyed. "Not poured down their throats. People have died from drinks spiked with Visine."

"How do you know that?" Camille's voice warbled, bravado gone.

"There was an episode of MurderGals on it," Piper explained.

"Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know," Camille huffed.

"Well, you should've. Or you at least should've known not to trust those idiots. I've known you since I was eight years old, Camille, but I don't recognize you anymore. I'm going to wait for my mom to pick me up. Have a nice time with your ‘friends.'?" Piper headed for the sitting room.

"You mean you're not leaving?"

"Some of us can't afford to spend two hundred dollars on an Uber, Cam."

Cam stared at her. Piper didn't know which was worse: her pity or her smugness.

"Whatever. Don't even pretend you came here for me," Cam spat. "Let me guess. Coach Beal told you to play babysitter? Well, I don't need you hovering over my shoulder, Piper. I can take care of myself. And if you breathe a word of this to her, you'll regretit."

With Camille, Piper knew it was true.

Piper watched her teammate storm off, then stepped away from the front room and headed up the grand spiral staircase.

If she was going to be stuck here awhile, she might as well find some way to entertain herself.