The White Glove War by Katie Crouch & Grady Hendrix

Author:Katie Crouch & Grady Hendrix [CROUCH, KATIE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 031618750X
Publisher: Poppy
Published: 2012-07-03T00:00:00+00:00

14

Alex

Okay. I know throwing Hayes under the Magnolia bus was bad. Actually, it was worse than bad: It was evil. And evil is how I felt after I said those things and made her look so crazy in front of everyone. After I fed her to the wolves, I saw her face, and she looked exactly like she did the day her grandmother tore into her in front of 404 Habersham. It wasn’t even the Gray Man talking back there in the meeting—Sina did her job. I’m suffering from no outside influences. The person who did that to Hayes was me, speaking of my own free will. And what I did was just wrong.

But I’m not sorry. Hayes was about to give the Magnolias a very good reason to cancel the Louisa Lee Memorial Greenhouse Gala, and that would have messed up all my plans. Because if the Magnolias believe her about the Gray Man being on the loose, they’ll probably realize that Sina had something to do with it. And I can’t let my grandmother figure out that Sina was working with me—that’s the last thing that can happen.

But right now I have a much bigger problem. It sounds as though the Gray Man found another victim: Hayes. Even after I’ve practically killed myself keeping him away from my friends. How am I going to raise my mother and keep Hayes safe? Even if I manage to master the darkest hoodoo secrets, I’m getting spread a little thin.

Of course, right now I’m in way more danger than the Gray Man ever put me in. Madison’s called me three times—no doubt out for my blood.

She’s not in the school parking lot, or out front, but the second I set foot in the breezeway, I feel her china-blue gaze hit me like a pair of laser beams. I look up and there she is across the lawn, looking truly spectacular in an aquamarine silk top, skinny jeans, and gorgeous Italian boots. She always looks like she’s headed to a glossy magazine shoot, instead of wading through trig like the rest of us. She comes across the lawn with the swagger of a Power Ranger, then puts my arm in the steel clamp of death and steers me toward the MG bench.

As soon as the other girls see us coming, they scatter like a flock of seagulls. Madison plops me down roughly, crosses her arms, and narrows her eyes at me.

“What are you?” she says. “An emotional abuser? Do I need to call a hotline? Because I have to assume this is how you get your sick kicks: publicly humiliating the one person who’s been nice to you the entire time you’ve been here.”

I have to tread carefully. Madison is sharper than Hayes about this kind of thing. Harder to lie to.

“All I can say is that you don’t understand the circumstances.”

“No? That’s funny coming from the girl who has her head so far up her grandmother’s butt that she’s wearing her like a hat.

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