The month of November sweeps by Kensington in a relatively uneventful manner- well, uneventful for Kensington that is. Luciana's scandal is no longer the hottest topic of the semester but the damage is still done. She no longer attends Kensington. Last I hear from Parker, she's now at some boarding school in Connecticut.

I decide to lay low for November. Too many reputations torn down and too much chaos in such a short time will raise red flags. Instead, I choose November to further entrench my presence into their hierarchy and slowly remove each building block from their castle.

Carmen's skirts and blouses are fitting her less and less and with the Winter Recital for her ballet class approaching, her diet has reached draconian levels of starvation. And the friendship between Parker and Carmen are becoming more hostile and competitive. It certainly began with Luciana's expulsion from the Elite. Like how last week, Parker and Carmen had that ridiculous fight about who saw the new Lacoste polo dress at Neiman Marcus first and the week before that, they argued on and on about whether honey-coloured highlights looked too brassy. But I know the fights had been an underlying factor to something else entirely, something much more personal. And I've been trying to figure out a way to manipulate that.

"Hey girl," I call out to Parker when I see her weaving her way through the clusters of girls in pleated navy blue, grey, or maroon wool uniform skirts, picking at their wasabi-smoked tuna burgers and Red Bliss Pommes Frites. Even though Parker is makeup-free with only her favourite Marc Jacobs' lacquer lip gloss on, she still stuns the room. Girls from opposing schools stare, coveting the Hermes Kelly she uses as a school bag and the five thousand dollar Max Mara teddy coat she has over her uniform. 

"Where's Carmen?"

Parker rolls her eyes. "She decided to skip lunch and last period to head to the studio to practice. I swear, the girl's getting more and more Black Swan as the recital date draws closer."

I shrug and try not to hide my satisfaction at how I finally got Parker to hang out with me without Carmen. It's perfect for sowing the seeds of destruction. "Oh well, lame. I was thinking we could go to Malomoush later. We can invite the boys as well. And Nadine if you wanted."

"What?" Parker scrunches her eyebrows. "But we only ever go to Malomoush with Carmen. She lives for their gin and tonics."

"That doesn't mean we can't go without her," I press casually as if I mean no harm. "Come on, it'll be fun! I've been getting so many assignments lately I need a night out on a school night."

"You're absolutely terrible," Parker laugh, shaking her head as she scoops up a bite of her chicken salad. "But okay, text the boys. Don't do it on the group chat with Carmen on it though."

I pretend to feign a look of confusion. "Why not?"

Parker bites a corner of her lips. "Just...don't. Trust me."

I shrug, my face making a conscious effort to contain my glee. "If you say so."

-

Malomoush is one of the coolest bars the Elite has introduced to me. Situated on East Fifty-seventh Street, it's decorated like a Turkish harem's lair. Gauzy pink-and-yellow silk scarves hang from the ceiling, and huge pink-and-yellow-upholstered pillows are tossed at random around for customers to lounge on. 

Côte du Rhone spill into my glass as Parker signals the waiter to ignite a match to relight her cigarette. "God, I needed this," sigh Parker as she uncoils her body against the massive couch. Parker and I have arrived early and we're currently waiting for the rest of the boys to show up.

I hum in agreement, sipping on my wine. I tap out my cigarette on the ashtray and bring it forth to my Ruby Woo scarlet lips, which match the new merlot Diane von Furstenberg vintage wrap dress I found off the rack at Fifth Avenue last week. I'm wearing my favourite pair of pointy black suede knee-high boots, which gives off that holiday girl meets dominatrix vibe. Every day for me is to look like I've just stepped off the runway. After all, you never know when someone might recognize you and snap a pic that ends up on VieuxRiche,'s Instagram page. A bad hair day can equal cruel comments about you by anonymous users on the internet.

I lay into the soft pillows of the restaurant. "This is nice, right? Just some chill drinks. Then later, we can go dance with the boys!"

"Or in your case, grind against Orson," Parker smirk at me as she stirs her Ketel One and tonic with her steel straw. With her blonde hair braided into twin dutch plaits across her head to her structured Chloé jacket and her strappy sling-backs, Parker looks like she's about to go for a job interview. But like a sexy one. "What? Don't act all innocent. I've been eyeing you two for a few weeks. What's going on there?"

I pretend to act flustered, the Nars blush hiding my flushed cheeks. "Nothing! There's nothing going on between Orson and me."

Parker snorts. "Oh please, every time he sees you, every other girl is like invincible to him. He can't stop looking at you, which is a feat any girl should be proud of. He's in love with you."

"I told you he's not my type."

Parker arch her perfectly micro-bladed eyebrows. "Orson Calloway, not your type? That's a lie. Orson is anyone's type. And a little birdie told me you two made out at the Halloween party."

"What?!" I gasp, eyelash extensions fluttering. "Who?"

"So it's true! I knew it. I knew you two made out." Parker gleefully claps.

"Oh my god," I groaned, burying my head in my hands. "I regretted it instantly, okay? And I was drunk, not to mention high so...you can't hold that against me."

"Oh I so will," Parker teased, a coy expression weaselling up her face. "And just to think a few months ago, you were all ew Orson is a player so not thank you."

"I still think that! I just- I don't what came over me that night," I huff, resting my chin over my hand. My eyes scooted over to the door waiting for Orson and the boys to walk through the door but only fabulous Upper East Side patrons tread in and out. 

"Oh well, be careful, Amory. Carmen doesn't like the girls who mingle with her brother," Parker warn me lightly.

I shake my head, "She has nothing to worry about. As I said, Orson is not my type."

Parker smirks and twirls her strawberry daiquiri before draining half of it. "Sure, Amory."

"Anyway," I straighten up, "What about you? Any guys you've been eyeing?"

Parker's eyes roll. "Ew, no, no way. High school boys are like a disease I'd like to not catch."

"Oh come on! There must be someone worth your time..."

Parker shakes her head firmly, "No, there isn't. Besides, I have way more important things to worry about. I don't have time to really focus on my love life. I have the Model UN, World Scholars Cup, college prep and helping Carmen campaign for Homecoming Queen...."

"Why are you helping her campaign?" I laugh, eyebrows stitched together, "Can't she do it herself?"

"Well, yeah but as her friend, I just...do it for her. It's like tradition," Parker shrug but I can see her shoulders slumping. "Carmen always run for Homecoming Queen and I'm always her campaign manager."

"Well, do you want to be her campaign manager?" I ask, prodding the button softly, When it comes to making people want the things you want them to want, it's not about suggesting it to them. It's to make them come up with the idea themselves.

"No, not really," Parker admits grimly. Then she sighs and buries her face in her arms. "Amory, can I...ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think what Carmen did to Luciana was fair?"

A beat. There's a pregnant pause. I glance at the door. The boys haven't arrived. I stare deep into Parker's Artic eyes. "No, not really," I say quietly. "I don't think it's fair at all."

"I- we had known Luciana all our lives. We've been friends since kindergarten and Carmen just...threw it all away because of some stupid medical record leaked by Helena fucking Marx," growls Parker, "I'm just...I sometimes just fucking hate her, you know? I hate Carmen and her stupid rules and her irritating need to always make sure people love her. Like, fuck what people think. That's your best friend. Who cares if she has HIV?"

"I know," I sympathetically coo. "It's...just how she is, y'know?"

Parker gulps down the rest of her cocktail and signals the waiter for another one. "I know. And the worst part is that Luciana and I had been with her through everything. And she always has to be the first, the winner, the queen, the top role. You know that I could've gotten the part for the White Swan but I let her have it?"

"What?" I gasp. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I know she wanted it so badly! Because she's the It Girl and everything must be given to her."

"Well, not everything," I say, pouring meaning into my words. "She doesn't always have to win everything, Parker."

-

"I need to talk to you," is the first thing Parker aggressively whispers to Carmen the following morning at the lockers as we're preparing ourselves for our first-period classes. Carmen, who had been applying a fresh coat of Estee Lauder's petal pink lip gloss, lifts her attention away from her locker mirror and cast her honey gaze onto Parker with a tinge of annoyance.

"What do you need?" huff Carmen, looking pained that someone has interrupted her daily glam sessions. "Anything you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Amory as well."

Parker hides her frustration by painting on a relatively condescending smile and tugs on Carmen's slim wrist in her direction. "Carmen, meet me at Terrence this afternoon. Okay?"

Carmen blink and nod, surprised by the tone of urgency in Parker's voice. Terrence is the name of the hotel bar all the Elites goes to when they're in the mood to cut class and drink martinis while smoking cigarettes and making fabulous weekend plans. I watch as Parker heads off to her class and as Carmen focuses her attention on fixing her makeup before class starts, I quickly text Hadley.

Meet me after school. Got some intel work to do.

-

Carmen's signature perfume- Dior's Poison Girl- could be smelled a mile away as Hadley and I entered Terrence, the hotel bar Parker and Carmen were supposed to rendezvous after school.

"This is itchy," Hadley grumbled as she played with the blonde wig I gave her.

"Sorry, got it cheap on Amazon," I say to her as I walk towards the waiter. 

"Where would you like to be seated, Miss Lexington?" The waiter asks after I inform him that only two will be dining. 

I spot Parker exiting out of the bathroom and walking to the hotel balcony, where Carmen's infamous Louis Vuitton GM tote bag is being slung across the comfy orange canvas director chair and Carmen is already seated, distracted by whatever's happening on her timeline as she scrolls through her phone. 

 Of course, they're getting the corner table out by the terrace- it is the best spot in the whole restaurant.

"Out by the terrace please." I pour the thick British accent onto my words.

"Right this way, Miss Lexington."

My unnatural synthetic straight black hair swings behind me as I follow the waiter to the balcony and find a table just a few seats away from Carmen and Parker. I push my Givenchy gold-rimmed sunglasses further up my nose and brush my hair to hide the side profile of my face more. Through the shiny tresses of the black wig, I notice Carmen eating her kale Caesar salad- well, not really eating. More like removing the croutons and cheese from the green leaves and placing them on her bread plate.

"Menus?" The waiter offers me as Hadley and I take our seats. I nod at him wordlessly.

"Two iced glasses of water first please," Hadley say and the waiter disappeared.

"Now move," I whisper to Hadley and she immediately reaches into the oversized Prada bag I borrowed her and brings out a tiny microphone device. Brilliantly, she excuses herself loudly from the table and saunters through the balcony towards the entrance back into the restaurant. She discreetly clips the tiny device onto the back of Parker's vacant chair and heads off to the bathroom.

I smile, feeling a weird flutter of pride in my chest, and reach for my phone, where I hurriedly enable the microphone device to connect to the app and begin eavesdropping and recording the conversation. I rub the air pods in my ear, which has also been hidden by my thick black wig and try to listen closely. The audio quality of the recording is so clear that I can hear the clinks of Carmen's knife hitting the plate.

Eventually, I see Parker returning from the bathroom and sitting back down with Carmen.

"So what did you dragged me all the way out here for?" I hear Carmen's bored voice playing over my earphones.

Parker's Louboutins tap on the floor and later, a slurp of coffee from her. "I need to talk to you about your campaign."

Silence. I presume Carmen had silently arched an eyebrow at Parker, wordlessly prompting her to carry on.

"I don't want to be your campaign manager," Parker announces.

There's a deep pause from both parties. 

"What?" Carmen splutters so loud that the sound crackles through the speaker. I flinch and wince. "Why not?"

"Because I'm also running for Homecoming Queen." My gaze flicker over to their table. Parker is completely stone wall, her eyes hard.  I try not to smile. One more pin in nailing this beast.

I could hear another choke on water from Carmen. "Come again?!"

"I'm running for Homecoming Queen, Carmen. It's senior year and it's always something I wanted to do. It's my last chance. You've been Queen for the last three years."

There's another long pause. I crane my ear, trying to decipher the sounds a little more.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen snarls, her tone biting through the thick tension. "You don't even have what it takes to be nominated."

"Oh really? You know for years I've stood by the sidelines being your little handmaiden and I've never complained. The only reason you've been Queen for so long is that I chose to stay behind the spotlight for your sake."

"You think you're all that?" Carmen's eyes narrow so hard they'd become slits. "Bitch, I made you!"

Parker looks unfazed by Carmen's insults. There's the sound of her chair scraping the floor and Parker standing back up on her Louboutins. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we? Enjoy your salad, Carms."

And just like that, I begin dismantling Carmen's monarchy piece by piece. 

-

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