The Game of Triumphs by Laura Powell

Author:Laura Powell [Powell, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780375897740
Google: kjK-cMiBrugC
Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers
Published: 2009-08-09T07:00:00+00:00

“THINK ABOUT IT,” TOBY was saying as they walked to Flora’s on Thursday evening. “We can be like the Famous Three or something. The Prom Queen, the Lovable Geek and—”

“You’re not lovable.”

“Aw, c’mon, haven’t you ever heard of geek chic? Instant X factor. Anyway, as I was saying. Team Arcanum: the Prom Queen, the Lovable Geek and the Goth.”

“I am not a Goth.”

“OK, not technically speaking, no. But you have to admit, you’re on the pale and prickly side,” Toby said cheerily. “I suppose you could be the Enigmatic Loner, if you’d prefer.”

“I’d prefer it if you’d shut the hell up.”

Cat’s mood did not improve when they arrived at Flora’s house, a big white-columned affair on the edge of one of London’s most fashionable parks. It was the kind of street where even the exhaust fumes reeked of money.

The door was opened by a blond woman in a silk dressing gown. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in interrogation.

“Yes?”

“We’re here to see Flora.”

“Are you sure?” The woman continued to look them up and down in a slightly unfocused fashion.

“Mummy.” Flora’s voice came from the hall beyond. “It’s all right, I’m expecting them.”

Her mother shrugged elegantly, the movement making the ice in her drink tinkle, then pinned a well-practiced smile onto her face. “Marv’llous, darling. You know how I love meeting your friends.… Sorry to be a touch dishabille—running late, as usual. I swear the party season gets more exhausting by the year.” She laughed, a little too loudly, and raised her tumbler as if to make a toast. Cat remembered Flora in the garden at Temple House, her parody of social charm.

“We’re going up to my bedroom. Have fun at the Richmonds’.” Flora wasted no time in ushering her guests upstairs. Cat, her feet sinking into thick carpeting, had only a vague impression of the rest of the house, which appeared to be done up in varying shades of white.

Flora’s bedroom continued the theme. The bed had a gauzy white canopy, and a gas fire flickered in a white marble fireplace. The pin-board above her desk was covered with snapshots of Flora and her friends at parties, on ski slopes, city breaks and country weekends. A night breeze ruffled the curtains by the window, which looked over the garden and the park beyond.

Their hostess perched on the edge of the bed, hugging a cushion to her chest. “Oh,” she said, “I should have asked. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“Why, are you going to ring for the maid?” asked Toby.

“We don’t call her that. Mina’s like one of the family.”

Cat turned from the window. “Toby thinks you’re the prom queen,” she said abruptly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know. All the best hero squads have one. You’re the token blond cheerleading type, Toby’s the geek and I’m the Goth.”

“It was only a joke,” Toby said, reddening. “There’s no need to keep going on about it.”

“It’s a joke with a point, though. Right from the start, Flora, you made it clear that you wanted as little as possible to do with me or Toby or anyone.

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