Sweet Torture by Kira Saito Page B

Carl actually did make out with Dennis Smith Richards the Third. While it was torture for Carl, Dennis evidently enjoyed it thus outing himself out in a painfully embarrassing manner. Of course, Beatrice had been privy to Dennis’s sexual orientation prior to this embarrassing incident thus making the whole situation all the more scandalous and juicy for her. Carl had done his part and was rewarded with a date to the Winter Ball with Beatrice. Rumor had it that Beatrice had been so impressed with Carl’s boldness that she actually treated him to some one on one time in one of the fancy Manhattan hotels her parents owned. Of course, Beatrice swore that nothing had ever happened. If a peep came out of Carl’s lips, it would mean social suicide, so the exact details of the supposedly illicit encounter were a little sketchy. It wasn’t exactly difficult for me to realize that if I wanted to survive high school, I needed to stay on Beatrice’s good side.
      Staying on Beatrice’s good side meant complimenting her on a regular basis, snarling at those who she hated and basically being her personal assistant whenever there was a need.   Thankfully, Christmas break was starting tomorrow, and she was going to spend it in St. Bart’s. That meant two entire Beatrice-free weeks. Two entire weeks to myself and chocolate. I didn’t even care if my mom was too embarrassed to invite me to Aspen, I was more than happy to stay at home with Vlada and the other staff than put up with her snotty comments about how much of a disappointment I was.
    “Hey Claudia, what’s up with the hair?” Beatrice asked as she examined the tragedy that was my hair.
    “Rough night.” I lied as I caught a glimpse of myself in my locker mirror.
    “Yeah, I can see that,” she snorted as she ran her fingers through her perfectly, smooth hair. “You really need to see Rodrigo; he’s a god with scissors.”
    “I can see that,” I muttered half-heartily.
    “I know, right.” Beatrice snapped up her first compliment of the day.
    As I attempted to smooth down my hair, I caught sight of Dante in my mirror. His customary St. Emile jacket fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and his dark hair was carelessly disheveled. I felt him come closer; the mere presence of him was sweet torture. As he brushed by me, oblivious to my presence, he threw a wink at Beatrice and I felt my heart break into a million pieces.  

    Sweet Heaven

    Flakes of snow were slowly finding their way to the cold pavement. The city lights brightened the already dark New York skyline and the city was filled with Christmas cheer. Street corner Santa’s rang their bells for charities and Heaven’s Kitchen, my favorite coffee shop, smelled like spicy cinnamon mingled with mysterious blends of coffee and dark chocolate.  
    I was in heaven as I sipped my Peruvian hot chocolate in a corner booth. Thankfully, school had just ended for two glorious weeks, and Beatrice was well on her way to St. Bart’s by now. Life was perfect, well close to perfect. I didn’t really have any other friends. Although I hung out with the other Beatrice minions at school, we really didn’t socialize away from it. I mean, we didn’t have anything to talk about besides Beatrice and when she wasn’t around, all we did was stare at one another and wonder why we   were all so tragic and easy to manipulate.
    I was on my second cup of hot chocolate, when I saw him. Dante casually walked into the café and made his way over to the cash register. I was close enough to hear what he ordered.
    “Can I get a cup of Colombian coffee, please?” He gave the barista a pearly white smile. Even from where I sat I could see that she turned a shade of red that rivaled the twinkling, Christmas lights outside.
    I caught myself shamelessly staring and pretended I was too busy reading my Biology textbook. Seriously, was I that much of a loser that I had to be caught reading a biology textbook when school had just