Survival of the Fiercest by Anna Carey Page A

down the center.” Mrs. Perkins, their just-out-of-grad-school biology teacher, drew a line over the diagram of the heart taped to the board. Whenever she raised her arms too high, her Ann Taylor cardigan rode up, exposing her Celtic lower-back tattoo. Around the room, girls hovered over their dissection trays. Analeigh Price, the girl who’d declared herself an “animal lover” before class, choked back tears as she made the first cut.
    Just then Priya strolled in, whispering an apology to Mrs. Perkins. Her curly black hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and the collar of her pink Ben Sherman button-down was popped up. She made a beeline to Stella’s lab table, clutching a lavender flyer in her hand. Stella recognized it immediately.
    â€œJust when I thought this couldn’t get any more ridiculous. Now you’re advertising for friends?” Priya shook her head as she set the flyer down in front of Stella. Her black eyes were lined with silver shadow, making them sparkle.
    Stella scraped her nails along the wooden stool. She’d never had to advertise for friends before—ever. In London she, Pippa, and Bridget were invited to every party and every cricket match, cheering as their mate Robin Lawrence ran between wickets. After they started having tea at the Ritz on Saturday afternoons, the entire school showed up, ordering the same carrot cake Stella loved. Last fall a fifth-year had even started a blog, showing girls which shops carried the designer samples Stella inherited from her mum. But in Manhattan—at Ashton—she was a bloody pariah.
    Stella was tired of waiting for classes with Cate to have a decent conversation with someone, tired of getting points off her English papers for spelling color colour or center centre , and most important, she was tired of the Beta Sigma Phis treating her like some poor, desperate loner.
    She glanced at Myra, who was now cutting at the heart sideways, licking her lips in concentration like it was a juicy slab of Kobe beef. Stella grabbed the tray from her and shoved it into Priya’s arms, knocking her in the ribs. “Here—I know how much you love dissecting things.”
    Priya backed away. “No, I’ll leave that to you and your”—she smirked, eyeing Myra— “friend.” She retreated to a table on the other side of the classroom, where Sophie was watching everything. As Priya put on her latex gloves, Sophie snuck a small wave.
    Stella couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes she felt like Sophie was the real victim in all of this. Just yesterday, she’d ambushed Stella in the gym loo. I’m sorry! she’d whispered under the stall. I just want us all to be friends again!
    â€œWhat did she mean— advertise? ” Myra asked. Her gloves were covered with pink fluid, so she was trying to scratch her nose with her arm.
    â€œIt’s just…Cate and I got into a huge fight with Blythe, Priya, and Sophie.” Stella put on her latex gloves and held the tray steady. “Now we’re forming our own sorority, and we’re looking for a third member. It’s a long story. Basically they were mad that I lied about some things.” Even now, Stella couldn’t believe how angry they’d gotten. What was she supposed to do, say Hi, nice to meet you, my dad cheated on my mum with Cloud McClean? You know, that British pop singing twit with the new line of glitter thongs? Before last week, she’d only told two people outside of her family about Cloud: Pippa and Bridget. It wasn’t the type of thing you sent a mass e-mail about.
    â€œWhat kinds of things?” Myra pressed. As she leaned over the tray, strands of white blond hair fell in her eyes. She wore a short-sleeved cotton turtleneck, the Ashton Prep crest pinned to the collar.
    Myra Granberry was, quite possibly, the only person in theworld Stella could tell about Cloud without worrying the rumors would spread like