: Though there aren't graphic details, this chapter contains mentions of sexual assault.

Olivia had been grounded for a month. Coming home with makeup streaked down her cheeks, she had tried to explain her reasons why for going to the First Dance to her parents.

"I tried talking to you, but you wouldn't even hear me out," she cried as she sat on the tiffany-blue bedspread covering her bed, hugging a large pillow to her chest.

Her mother sat across from Olivia on the bed; her back leaned against the white, Victorian-inspired, wrought iron footboard. William stood behind his wife with arms crossed, a stern expression on his face as he regarded his daughter.

"I know what I did was wrong," Olivia continued, sniffing to keep her nose from running, "and I'm really sorry about that, but it felt like I didn't have any other choice. It was just a school dance. Nothing dangerous happened." She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "It just, it feels like you're trying to control everything I do, and I can't live like that. You can't expect me not to want to go to parties. I'm not a little kid anymore." She wiped a runaway tear from her cheek.

"You go to parties," Christina disagreed.

Olivia sighed heavily. "Yeah, social events with supervision and adult participation." She waved an arm at her parents. "I mean parties for people my age. Without parents present." She sniffed again and wiped under her eye. "I just want to act my age and have fun with the few friends I actually have, without being told I'm wrong for wanting that."

"Liv," her mother sighed.

"When do I get to have a life?" Olivia looked from her mother to her father with swimming red eyes.

William took a deep breath. "Look—" he started, but Olivia cut in.

"It feels like I'm being punished for what happened to Tom, and that's not fair. It wasn't my fault." She hugged the large pillow tighter.

Both Christina and William were quiet as they exchanged a look between them.

"We are trying to keep you safe," William said in a tired voice. "So that something like that doesn't happen to you," his voice grew harsher, trying to restrain himself from shouting; feeling frustrated Olivia couldn't see they had established the rules for her protection.

"Maybe we need to loosen the rules a little, Billy," Christina said calmly and peered up at him but got a disapproving look in return.

"That does not excuse the way she went about tonight," William argued, groaning the next second at the pleading look in Olivia's eyes. "Your mother and I will talk about it," he caved a little. "But for now, you are grounded, young lady." He gave Olivia a stern look, pointing at her. "And do not think we will let this pass again. Break our rules one more time, and I won't hesitate to send you off to live with Mamie and Grampa for the rest of your senior year." He made a sweeping motion with his finger through the air, like a plane taking off from New York to Minnesota, where Olivia's paternal grandparents lived.

So there she was, grounded for a month. She was only allowed to leave the house for school, her volunteer job at an animal shelter, and at the family law firm. Every Sunday, she could attend church with her grandmother, like always, but nothing else. Her TV, Internet, and phone privileges had been revoked, and she was not to see Roxie anymore. To top it off, her father had started giving her the silent treatment. Being stuck in her house was intolerable.

At school, things weren't much better. The Witches of Upper Eastwick, or just the Witches, as Roxie had started calling Olivia's three tormentors, seemed to have picked up their hunt on her with renewed energy. Roxie's attempts to help only made matters worse, so she was trying to stay out of it—however difficult she found it. Hanging out—and making out—with Sebastian whenever she could, did help keep her mind occupied though.

The situation with Ricky remained the same as before. Olivia didn't know what she had expected, but his blunt disregard for her existence still hurt. She had even tried going to school wearing her contact lenses instead of glasses, but it made no difference. He paid her no more attention than he'd ever done.

Josephine, however, had started acting strangely. She seemed constantly upset and jumpy but refused to talk about what was wrong. Not even her boyfriend could get through to her. Whenever Olivia tried to push the subject, Josephine would get upset and tell her to leave her alone. So, Olivia did.

As the week passed and another took its beginning, Olivia got worried when Josephine didn't show up for the Monday morning assembly. They always sat together in the small yet beautiful St. Aquinas Church. But that morning, Josephine's spot on the dark wooden pew was vacant.

At the back of the church, Ricky was sitting slumped down, giving anyone who dared look at him an evil glare. He was seated with Sebastian and the Banks cousins and could sense Claudia lean slightly forward ever so often to gaze past Sebastian at him. He wished she'd just focus on her hymnal instead.

It had been one of those mornings where Ricky and his father were up at the same time. Those mornings were always a nightmare.

Fred was already edgy and irritated when he sat down for breakfast. He was trying to read The Wall Street Journal while also barking orders at his employees over the phone about an important investment on the European stock market, keeping up with the development on a screen that hung from the wall in the sunlit breakfast room.

A wrong comment from Ricky had set him off, and it had ended out in what could only be described as a shouting contest across the table.

Fed up with his father, Ricky had thrown his plate across the room and stormed out in a rage. Going through the kitchen, he grabbed one of the orange juice boxes he still made their butler get him and took the private elevator down to the street. He really missed a front door he could slam as he watched the stainless-steel doors of the elevator slide close, gently and silently.

By the town car waiting for him at the curb, a young chauffeur Ricky had never met before opened the door for him. He didn't think anything of it before they set off toward St. Aquinas, but quickly came to realize what an appalling driver he was in the car with.

The chauffeur kept slamming on the breaks or speeding up, trying to catch a green light. He screamed and gestured at the other drivers, and honked the horn aggressively. It did not improve Ricky's mood.

They were close to the school when the inevitable thing happened. The chauffeur overlooked a cyclist and had to slam the breaks at a rate that made Ricky fly forward, squeezing the juice box in his hand when he tried to prevent himself from slamming face-first into the front seat. As a result, the juice sprayed all over his white shirt.

"Shit!" Ricky fell back in his seat, a bit shocked but mostly just pissed off. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?! You fucking imbecile!"

"I'm sorry, but this idiot," the chauffeur spoke with a hint of a foreign accent, gesturing at the cyclist as if to explain. "Get out of my way!" he yelled at the shocked cyclist and honked the horn at him.

"I don't give a fuck!" Ricky shouted from the backseat, throwing the empty juice box furiously into the front. He pinched the cold and wet fabric between his fingers, pulling the shirt away from his chest. "Where the hell did you get your license? Fuck!" Groaning with irritation, he took off his navy-blue school blazer, cursing under his breath at the driver.

Ricky didn't have anything he could change into, but walking around with a giant yellow stain on his shirt was out of the question, which left him with just the blazer and nothing else. That would surely earn him detention—and probably worse—when Father Palmer, the school's obnoxious deputy headmaster, found out.

When they came to a halt in front of the school, Ricky left his shirt in the backseat, getting out as the chauffeur opened the door.

"Are you just going to leave that there?" the chauffeur asked, looking into the car at the wrinkled-up shirt.

"Yes, you goddamn lunatic! Take it to the fucking dry cleaner!" Ricky yelled and started toward the school.

"Take it yourself, dipshit," the chauffeur mumbled under his breath, but not low enough.

Ricky spun around at the chauffeur, his anger boiling. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," the chauffeur said imprudently.

Ricky squared his jaw and bit his teeth, knowing he shouldn't go off on the guy but found it incredibly difficult not to. He turned back around, shifting his messenger school bag on his shoulder.

"Hey! You forgot something!" Ricky felt a small tap on his back and quickly spun around, finding the empty juice box at his feet. "This isn't a garbage can," the chauffeur scolded.

"No, you did not," Ricky said in a threateningly calm voice, his rage rising to the surface and throwing his bag at the ground combatively, going for the chauffeur.

Sebastian came down the sidewalk on a skateboard at that same moment, seeing the impending fight. He jumped off the skateboard, flipping it up to catch, and ran in between the chauffeur and Ricky with his backpack bouncing up and down, his dark fedora flying off his head.

"What the fuck are you doing, Ricky?"

"Stay out of this," Ricky growled and pushed past Sebastian, forcing him to grab Ricky from behind in a grip that immobilized him. Sebastian was maybe not as tall as Ricky's six foot one, but he'd been on the school's wrestling team for several years.

"Let go!"

"As soon as he's gone," Sebastian agreed, annoyed with the chauffeur when he took something out of the car and threw it to the ground, angering Ricky even more, struggling against Sebastian's hold.

Taking off, the chauffeur made sure to drive over the white bundle on the ground. Only then did Sebastian let go.

Ricky turned to face him, shoving him with a force that made Sebastian stumble several feet backward, fighting to stay upright.

"Why the fuck did you do that?!" Ricky yelled and started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the school with a raging temper, picking his bag up only to slam it back into the ground to get some kind of relief from his anger.

Sebastian shook his head at him but remained silent as he retrieved his hat and skateboard, sitting down on it on the steps to the school's side entrance, waiting for Ricky to calm down. It annoyed Sebastian that he couldn't make the onlooking students go inside and let Ricky cool off without them staring.

Ricky kept pacing the sidewalk like a lion in a cage while smoking a cigarette and cursing under his breath, kicking his bag now and then. It was clear to see he was missing an outlet for his anger.

They were the only two left outside, with just a few minutes to spare before the first bell when Ricky finally picked up his bag and came over to Sebastian.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Sebastian nodded. "Not cool, dude."

"I know." Ricky buttoned his blazer, making sure his long silver necklace was tucked safely away.

Sebastian cast a glance at what he figured was Ricky's shirt by the curb with a tire track across it. "What exactly happened?" he asked when the ringing of the bell started over their heads, and they hastily climbed the steps two at a time.

The tune to 'Holy, Holy, Holy' died out with the piano's last note at the morning assembly. Usually, Mr. Birch, Josephine's father, was in charge of playing the piano, but this morning, it was the deputy headmaster, Father Palmer, who had the honor. It was not an improvement from Ricky's stance.

Church, as everyone called the morning assembly because it took place in the school's small church, was always the same. They started with a hymn, followed by the standing communal recital of 'A Student's Prayer,' and finally, whatever announcement their headmaster had to share. It was a drag, in Ricky's opinion.

With the prayer's final 'Amen' still hanging in the air, Ricky sat down. He grabbed Sebastian's hat off the pew, feeling bored, and placed it over his face and crossed his arms, pretending to go to sleep. Sebastian immediately took it back and gave Ricky a light shove to the head. Ricky gave him a shove right back with a grin, making Sebastian bump into Claudia on the other side of him, causing her to drop her hymnal.

"Hey!" she protested, the sound of her voice echoing off the bare whitewashed walls as the noise of about two hundred students turning in their seats rose from the pews ahead of them.

Ricky chuckled quietly, but up at the high altar, their headmaster, Father Correll, sighed into the microphone on the pulpit, irritated his morning statements had been interrupted.

Father Richard Correll had a youthful face for a man in his late fifties. His light hair had started to gray at the temples though, and he was beginning to show a little paunch. He had blue eyes and used reading glasses that sat low on his stout nose. But despite his kind appearance, Correll was a strict man who expected the utmost discipline from his students.

"Stark von Linden, Whitener, stop bothering Miss Banks, or I'll have you moved to the front row for the remainder of the year. And sit up straight, Stark!" Correll demanded.

"Yeah," Sebastian agreed and elbowed Ricky in the side to get him to sit up. That side. The bruise on Ricky's left ribs had almost subsided, but they still hurt.

Ricky groaned, holding a hand over his ribcage, and punched Sebastian's shoulder lightly. "Shit, man, don't fucking do that." He straightened up by pushing against the pew in front with his shoe. Some of the nearest students started snickering when they saw his bare chest under the navy blazer.

This was apparently too much for Father Correll. "Pay. Attention!" he shouted into the mic, the sound ringing off the rounded ceiling, making students cover their ears. Everyone quickly turned back in their pews, and they all fell silent.

"As I was saying," Correll continued with slight annoyance, "the police have been notified." Everyone paid attention now, even those—like Ricky—who hadn't done so before. "So if any of you have even the smallest piece of information, we are asking you to come forth and say so. It might be a little daunting, but know that there will be complete confidentiality. Your information is safe with me," he assured.

"Now, as this happened over a week ago, any small and seemingly insignificant information might help shine some light on who did this. So don't. Hold. Back," Correll emphasized, pausing after each word. "We here at St. Aquinas do not tolerate any assault of this sort. It is vile. It is degrading." He stopped speaking and looked out on all his students, letting the words stay with them.

"If the person or persons responsible sits in this assembly," he tapped a finger on the edge of the pulpit, "let him know that he is no longer welcome at this school," Correll spoke in a stern voice. "Sadly, this affects all of you as your schedules need to be altered for the time being, since Mr. Birch has chosen to leave our staff as a consequence." Students around the church started whispering their complaints to one another.

"Quiet, please," Correll said, sounding impatient. "We're working on a more solid solution, but until then, those of you who took Mr. Birch's class will be sorted into additional classes with open spots. See this as an opportunity to broaden your academic horizon. And again, if any of you should have any information, no matter how small, please come forth," he urged. "Thank you. You may go to your classes," he finished, and all the students immediately erupted into charged whispers as they started to file out of the church.

Ricky turned to Sebastian with a confused expression, ignoring how everyone seemed to look his way as they walked past the pew he was sitting in. "What the fuck was he talking about?"

It was Rebecca who answered, removing her gaze from the text she was composing on her phone. "The Amelias says Birch was raped at the First Dance," she explained quietly, leaning across her cousin.

"What? Who would do such a fucked up thing?" Ricky asked in disbelief.

"Someone fucked up," Sebastian suggested in his usual dry manner.

"I don't think she was raped," Claudia said matter-of-factly. "She probably just did it with some loser and then went crying to daddy when she got cold feet, saying some boy raped her."

"Probably," Rebecca agreed, back at writing her text message. "It's not the first time a girl has pulled that one."

"I think you two need to stop yourself and just shut the fuck up," Sebastian scolded, making both girls glare at him. "If you weren't there, you have no way of knowing what happened. But if you were there, I suggest you go to Correll or the police, instead of listening to whatever gossip is flying around."

"Oh, listen to you, Mr. Honor Student," Cole taunted from the pew behind them, sitting with an arm slung around Gabriela's shoulder as they, and their joined group of friends, listened in on the conversation.

"You're an idiot." Sebastian rose from his seat. "Sexual assaults are fucking appalling, and the scumbags who commit those kinds of crimes should be chemically castrated." With those words, he grabbed his hat and joined the rest of the students queuing to leave through the church's narrow double doors.

"Who do you think did it?" Claudia asked Ricky, scooting closer to him on the pew.

"How the fuck should I know? I took too much shit to remember anything that happened that night."

"Then maybe you did it," Gabriela said with a smirk, looking at Ricky.

"Not. Fucking. Funny," he snarled as he turned around, pointing a finger at her, and then stood from the pew to leave.

Ignoring everyone who eyed him or commented on his missing shirt, Ricky found his way to the back of the small science lab on the fourth floor. He had sent a text message to their butler at home, asking him to have a fresh shirt delivered to the school, and was now resting across the science table. His chin was sitting on his book as he drummed his thumbs on the tabletop, trying to tune out the world around him while he waited for the lecture to start.

"Quiet down, please," Mr. Finlay, their AP Science teacher, said when he stepped through the door. He was a young dark-haired man who always seemed overly fervent. Ricky liked him.

"Today, we will be joined by some of the students from Mr. Birch's class. As you know, Mr. Birch has chosen to leave the school—" a knock sounded on the door. "Oh, they're already here. Come in," he called, and the door swung open.

As the new classmates stepped in, several looked down at Ricky's table in the far corner, eyeing the seat next to him, occupied by his messenger bag. He made no indications of moving it.

The last person to enter was Olivia. She stood looking around at all the taken seats, hugging her new book and biting her lip, trying with all her might to not look in Ricky's direction.

"Stark von Linden, would you please remove your bag so Miss Casini can take a seat," Mr. Finlay ordered mildly impatient, sorting through his papers.

Ricky raised his head from the table and looked around. Every other seat was taken apart from the one next to him. Irritated he had to share, he pulled his bag off the chair, sending it to the floor by his feet with a bump.