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They Wish They Were Us
They Wish They Were Us
TV ADAPTATION "THE PLAYERS' TABLE" STARRING HALSEY AND EUPHORIA'S SYDNEY SWEENEY COMING TO HBO MAX“A pristine infusion of Gossip Girl and Netflix's Elite, this prep-school thriller has it all:...
TV ADAPTATION "THE PLAYERS' TABLE" STARRING HALSEY AND EUPHORIA'S SYDNEY SWEENEY COMING TO HBO MAX“A pristine infusion of Gossip Girl and Netflix's Elite, this prep-school thriller has it all:...
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Due to publisher restrictions, your digital library cannot purchase additional copies of this title. We apologize if there is a long holds list. You may want to see if other editions of this title are available from your digital library instead.
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TV ADAPTATION "THE PLAYERS' TABLE" STARRING HALSEY AND EUPHORIA'S SYDNEY SWEENEY COMING TO HBO MAX
“A pristine infusion of Gossip Girl and Netflix's Elite, this prep-school thriller has it all: plaid skirts, secret societies, and a gripping murder mystery, but paired with an adept critique of the powers and privileges that goeth before the fall.” – Elle
In Gold Coast, Long Island, everything from the expensive downtown shops to the manicured beaches, to the pressed uniforms of Jill Newman and her friends, looks perfect. But as Jill found out three years ago, nothing is as it seems.
Freshman year Jill's best friend, the brilliant, dazzling Shaila Arnold, was killed by her boyfriend. After that dark night on the beach, Graham confessed, the case was closed, and Jill tried to move on.
Now, it's Jill's senior year and she's determined to make it her best yet. After all, she's a senior and a Player—a member of Gold Coast Prep's exclusive, not-so-secret secret society. Senior Players have the best parties, highest grades and the admiration of the entire school. This is going to be Jill's year. She's sure of it.
But when Jill starts getting texts proclaiming Graham's innocence, her dreams of the perfect senior year start to crumble. If Graham didn't kill Shaila, who did? Jill vows to find out, but digging deeper could mean putting her friendships, and her future, in jeopardy.
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From the cover
Chapter One
The first day of school always means the same thing: a tribute to Shaila. Today should be the first day of her senior year. Instead, she is, like she has been for the past three years, dead. And we are due for one more reminder.
“Ready?” Nikki asks as we pull into the parking lot. She throws her shiny black BMW, a back-to-school present from her parents, into park and takes an enormous slurp of iced coffee. “Because I’m not.” She flips the mirror down, swipes a coat of watermelon pink lipstick over her mouth, and pinches her cheeks until they flush. “You’d think they could just give her a plaque or start a charity run or something. This is brutal.”
Nikki had been counting down to the first day of senior year since we left for summer break back in June. She called me this morning at 6:07 a.m. and when I rolled over and picked up in a hazy fog, she didn’t even wait for me to say hi. “Be ready in an hour or find another ride!” she yelled, a hairdryer blowing behind her into the speaker.
She didn’t even need to beep her horn when she showed up. I knew she was waiting out front thanks to the deafening notes of Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know.” We both have a thing for eighties music. When I climbed into the front seat, Nikki looked as if she’d already had two Starbucks Ventis and a full glam squad appointment. Her dark eyes glimmered thanks to a swatch of sparkly eyeshadow and she had rolled the sleeves of her navy Gold Coast Prep blazer up to her elbows in an artful yet sloppy manner. Nikki’s one of the only people who can make our hideous uniforms actually look cool.
Thank God my nightmares stayed away last night and the near-constant bags under my eyes had disappeared. Didn’t hurt that I’d had a few extra minutes to apply a thick coat of mascara and deal with my brows.
When Nikki pulled out of my driveway, I was giddy with anticipation. Our time had come. We were finally at the top.
But now that we’re actually here, parked in the Gold Coast Prep senior lot for the first time, a shiver slinks down my spine. We still have to get through Shaila’s memorial and it hangs over us like a cloud, ready to rain all over the fun.
Shaila was the first student to ever die while attending Gold Coast Prep, so no one knew how to act or what to do. But somehow, it was decided. The school would start the year off with a fifteen-minute ceremony honoring Shaila. The tradition would last until we graduated. And as a thank you, the Arnolds would donate a new English wing in Shaila’s name. Well played, Headmaster Weingarten.
But no one wanted to remember Graham Calloway. No one mentioned him at all.
Last year’s assembly wasn’t so bad. Weingarten stood up and said something about how much Shaila loved math—she didn’t—and how she would have been so thrilled to be starting AP Calc if she was still with us—she wasn’t. Mr. and Mrs. Arnold showed up, as they did the year before, and sat in the front row of the auditorium, dabbing their cheeks with cotton handkerchiefs, the old-fashioned kind that were so worn, they were almost translucent and probably held residual snot from decades before.
The six of us sat next to them, front and center, identifying ourselves as Shaila’s survivors. We were chosen as eight. But after that night we became six.
When Nikki weaves through the parking lot and into the spot reserved for class president, Quentin is already waiting for us. “We’re seniors, bitches!” he says...
About the Author-
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Jessica Goodman is a senior editor at Cosmopolitan. They Wish They Were Us is her debut novel.
Follow Jessica on Twitter @jessgood and on Instagram @jessicagoodman.
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