Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I wrinkle up my nose. “I do.”
“I know. You’re a weirdo. We covered that.”
I kick him beneath the table, and he laughs.
“For what it’s worth, I like that about you,” he says. “I’m just telling you why you’re butting heads with everyone else. People think you’re asking too much of them.”
“Decency is too much?”
“For some people.”
“If you’re right about this, why haven’t I had problems before? I’ve always expected people to be good.”
“Because you’re pretty,” he states. “That buys you a certain amount of goodwill as long as you don’t rock the boat too much—and before last summer, you didn’t. Whether you believe we deserve it or not, my family is well-liked in this town, and people don’t like to see some overachieving little nobody trying to topple… people like us.”
“Ew.”
He holds up his hands in defense. “It’s not my opinion. I mean, the pretty part is, but the rest… it’s just reality.”
“I hate everything you’re saying.”
He nods, unsurprised. “I know. Most people believe in a just world, and I think you did too up until last summer, but that’s a plebeian fantasy. The world we live in isn’t set up that way.”
I stare at him, my jaw practically hitting the tabletop, as unexpectedly delighted as I am horrified. “Did you just call me a pleb?”
Amusement glints in his pretty blue eyes. “A former pleb. Does that help?”
Shaking my head at his audacity, I lean back, laughing despite the absurdity of sitting in a booth at Holroyd’s receiving a classist insult from Torrance fucking Walters. “Wow. Well, enlighten me, Emperor—how do you think the world we live in is set up?”
He leans back too, crossing his arms as he warns me, “You’re not gonna like it.”
“Yeah, I figured. I want to hear it anyway.”
“People like you will never get ahead of people like me.”
Very quickly, my amusement dissipates, but I don’t interrupt.
“You believe in a system of right and wrong, where people who do it right should be rewarded, and people who do wrong should be punished, but in real life, morals and merit don’t fucking matter. On a personal level, they might, in interpersonal relationships, but the overall system, how the world operates? None of that matters. Nobody cares. You don’t succeed at the highest levels in this world by being the best. You can work harder and do better than ninety-nine percent of people and still get fucking nowhere. I mean, you have an edge if you are good at something, but you don’t have to be. What you need is proximity to the board. Most people don’t have that and never will in their lives, but suppose you get there. Then you have to know how to play the game and be willing to play it. It’s the food chain we learned in science class as kids. The human world works the same way. We’re a little more sophisticated in the ways we devour each other, but the premise is the same. You can be at the top, or you can be consumed by the things at the top. There’s not much room up there, so most people are at least some level of prey—but the best fucking trick of all: nobody thinks they’re the prey.”
I shake my head. “People are more sophisticated. We have laws, societal norms, morals—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “Yes, you’re right. We do. For the prey. To manage them, to keep them in their place. Do you see the people at the top holding themselves to those standards?”
My face is hot, and I glare at him even though it’s not really him I’m mad at.
“Of course you don’t. They do whatever the fuck they want. And do they ever pay for it?”
“Not usually,” I say quietly.
He nods, and I feel him easing up a little. “Not usually. Now, you got sick of that. You said, fuck no, you’re not consuming me, and you made a move, and I respect that. I really do. But the only way that doesn’t catch up to you is if you keep moving until you’re out of hot water.”
My soul feels heavier than it has since before I pulled the trigger. “I don’t want to operate this way. I like having morals and living my life in a way that feels right. I didn’t… I didn’t want to… I just wanted justice.”
“I know,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “But the world doesn’t care like you do. The world operates the way it operates, so you can accept that and act accordingly, or you can spend your life wearing yourself out, swimming against the tide.”
“I don’t agree. Some people do care about what’s right. Maybe those people don’t live in Holbrook, but not everyone will sell their soul to fit in among the ghouls. Things can—and do—change, but never for the better if the people on the bottom—or the people fighting for the people on the bottom—give up and let the shitty people win. We are not simple-minded animals. We are capable of being better, and we have a responsibility to each other. Adopting the ‘every man for himself’ mentality is how the shitty people at the top get away with their crimes. People at the top of our ‘food chain’ don’t deserve invincibility. They should be held every bit as accountable as anybody else. Frankly, if they consider themselves so elite, their behavior should reflect that. They should be setting a good example, not setting everything on fire.”