Free The Dolls by Kiki Sullivan Page A

watch in silence as they continue to sip and eat. Even in the humidity of midday, everyone’s hair is perfect, and the girls’ makeup hasn’t budged. I’m sure that I, on the other hand, look like I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket, frizzing my hair and insta-melting the foundation off my face. Yet no one has said anything biting about the way I look, although I’m expecting Peregrine to be full of snide remarks.
    Margaux spoons second helpings of macaroni salad on Pascal’s plate as the conversation turns to the Mardi Gras Ball.
    “It’s the pinnacle of Carrefour social events,” Pascal says, settling down next to me as he digs into his salad. He reaches over after a moment and runs a finger up my spine, which makes me shiver. “Maybe you can be my date.”
    “Maybe,” I say noncommittally, trying to figure out why an impeccably dressed, smarmily handsome guy like Pascal would have any interest in a human frizzball like me. Perhaps because I’m new?
    As if she’s reading my mind, Peregrine smirks and says, “Pascal, and maybe you can refrain from attempting to bang the new girl for at least a few days.”
    I feel eyes on me again, and this time when I look up, Caleb holds my gaze for a long moment before looking away.
    Pascal eventually scoots over to flirt with Margaux, and I see Arelia beginning to gather up the dirty plates on her own. No one makes a move to help, so I stand, grab a few empty plates and glasses, and make my way over to the picnic basket. I’m about to ask where we wash them—I’m still confused that they eat on china and sip from crystal in the middle of school—but Arelia silences me with a dirty look.
    “Just so you know,” she says under her breath as Peregrine and Chloe chatter behind us, “it took Margaux and me years to become Dolls. So don’t make the mistake of assuming that just because you’re a Cheval, every door in the world is going to open for you. You still have to work your way up.”
    “I’m not assuming anything,” I reply. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
    As Arelia snatches the dishes from my hand, I see Caleb stand, hitch his backpack onto his shoulder, and nod good-bye to everyone. As he begins to trudge down the hill, I grab my bag too and quickly thank Peregrine and Chloe for the invitation to eat with them.
    “Where are you going in such a hurry, Eveny?” Peregrine asks knowingly.
    “Just to class.”
    “Nothing to do with the cute boy you’re chasing after?” Peregrine singsongs. I can hear them laughing as I dash down the hill to catch up with Caleb.
    “Hey,” I say, pulling up beside him.
    He turns and looks oddly nonplussed to see me. “Oh. Hey.”
    “So,” I begin awkwardly, “I’m Eveny.”
    “I know.” For a moment he looks straight ahead, and I have the feeling he’s not going to say anything else. But then, as if he’s conceding something, he adds, “The girl who thinks reading is cool.”
    “Well, it is,” I say defensively, which makes him laugh.
    But his smile is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with an expression that looks inexplicably frustrated. “I’m Caleb,” he says.
    “I know,” I reply. A loaded silence stretches between us. I can’t figure out why I’m feeling uneasy, or why he’s acting almost standoffish. “So, what class are you headed to?” I ask.
    “American history.”
    “Oh, me too!” But he doesn’t say a word, and we sink back into silence.
    This time, it’s Caleb who breaks it. “So you moved from New York?” His tone is reluctant, like he doesn’t want to be talking to me at all.
    “Yeah, really suddenly. It was right before my birthday last week, and my aunt was just like, ‘Hey, we’re moving back to Louisiana.’ I didn’t even have time to prepare for it, you know? I mean, one second, I live in New York, the next second, I’m in the passenger seat of as car headed a thousand miles away. . . .”
    I realize I’m babbling. I clamp my mouth shut,