Private: Ambition Part 5

The moment we walked through the doors of Barneys New York the next morning, the Twin Cities took off like a pair of sugar addicts who'd just been let loose at a chocolate facto ry. I glanced at Noelle and Sabine and laughed. "Looks like we're on our own." Now please just don't kill each other. That morning over an early brunch, we called the St. Sebastian and booked it for the fund-raiser dinner and auction. Noelle hadn't been all that happy about it, but she had agreed with me in the end. Then we had called Kiki and Astrid to give them the dates and told them to send out the e-mail invites ASAP. Now, everything in place, it was time for a little retail therapy. The Billings Girls' therapy of choice. We strolled through the main floor with its wide walkways and gleaming gla.s.s counters, and then down the stairs to the beauty department. Noelle wandered off toward the makeup counters to check out a few things, and I was. .h.i.t with a whiff of perfume. I paused and looked over at an anorexic-looking woman dressed in a formfitting black suit who was offering samples of some new scent. The cash I'd been given by the Billings alumni was currently burning a hole in my Chloe bag, and I had nev er bought myself perfume before. Could I possibly spend my green on something so deca dent?

Why not? This was my weekend of freedom. I could do whatever I wanted. "I'm going to go try out some perfume," I told Sabine. "I'll come with you," she replied. As if I ever thought she was going to go after Noelle. After a.s.saulting my senses with fifteen ridiculously strong scents, I chose a clean, invigorating perfume called, appropriately, Free, and barely broke a sweat handing over the many bills I needed to sh.e.l.l out for the tiny bottle. The moment the transaction was done, my iPhone rang, and Vienna's picture came up. "What's up?" I asked.

"Max out your credit already?" She ignored my joke. "Where are you b.i.t.c.hes? We're trying on dresses. Get your b.u.t.ts up here!" she shouted.

"Guess we're going to try on dresses," I told Sabine and Noelle, who had just joined us with a small bag from La Mer. "Sounds like a plan," she said. She glanced at my bag. "I can't believe I'm actually in Barneys," Sabine breathed, looking around as we ascended the escala tor. I glanced at Noelle, knowing some obnoxious comment was right on the tip of her tongue. She caught my look, and instead of saying whatever she wanted to say, she looked away. Huh. Maybe Noelle was starting to get bored of teasing Sabine. Or maybe whatever she and Dash had done last night had left her in such a good mood that her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't returned to our suite until this morning. Clench. Okay. Not thinking about that. We found London and Vienna in the s.p.a.cious dressing room off the couture section on five, being waited on by two very eager a.s.sistants. From the looks of their rooms, they had already tried on several dresses and sorted them into racks of "yes's" and "no's."

"Oooh! What'd you get?" London asked, grabbing at me and Noelle and our little Barneys bags. "Perfume," I said, as she pulled out the bottle so she and Vienna could inspect it. Vien na spritzed it and smiled. "Nice. Very bold. Very you." "Thanks," I said, beaming as I re claimed the expensive bottle. They seemed much less interested in Noelle's face cream.

"Have you guys found anything yet?" "We found something for you !" London announced, shoving a gold minidress at me. "You have to try this one on! With your legs and b.u.t.t, the guys will go catatonic when they see you." At the mention of my b.u.t.t I froze. I saw Noelle check it out in the mirror. Was she thinking of Dash? Wondering if he'd ever noticed it? Won dering if she'd been wrong about our flirtation being so very innocent? "She's right. You'll look hot in that," Noelle said finally. She slipped out of her coat and glanced at one of the hovering workers. "Bring me something sophisticated and black. Only black," she told them.

"Right away, Miss Lange," the girl said. Of course she knew Noelle's name. "We have some fabulous new things you'll just adore." "I'm sure I will," Noelle replied, taking a seat on the velvet chair in the corner. And adore them she did, considering she bought five of them. After trying on practically everything in the store, London and Vienna went home with two new dresses each. I bought the gold one, which basically made me look runway-worthy. It put an other dent in my cash, but it was totally worth it. Noelle kept urging me to use the Billings Alumni Fund instead, since the dress was for the fund-raiser, but I didn't feel right about it. Sabine, meanwhile, snapped up a Marc Jacobs on sale. Even though she came from money like the rest of the Billings Girls, her family had actually taught her frugality. Go figure. Afterward, we hit the CO-OP on the top floor, where the Twin Cities stocked up on more pairs of jeans than any two people could ever wear in a lifetime, and I splurged on a funky BCBG sweater that cost more than my mother brought home each week from her new job at Target. I could get used to this having-money thing. Although the wad was rapidly dwindling at this point. Perhaps I'd receive a new stash at Christmas or something. I'd have to hold out hope. By the time we returned to our waiting limo, we were so loaded down with bags, they didn't all fit in the trunk. We had to squeeze a few in between us on the seats. I let out a sigh as I dropped back against the cool leather, feeling tired, but in a very self-satisfied way. "That was a productive weekend," Noelle said as the chauffeur closed the door behind us. "Yeah, for American Express!" Vienna joked, shoving some bags into the corner near the part.i.tion.

"Back to Easton, then? " I said with a smile, happy to discover that I was actually looking forward to getting back there. This weekend really had been like a vacation. I felt so much more relaxed and happy. Like everything was going to be all right. That retail therapy always did the trick. "Back to Easton," Noelle replied. "Drew! We're ready!" she shouted at her driver.

"Noelle, whip out those Prada boots you got again so I can drool over them," London said, scooting forward in her seat as Drew edged into traffic. "If you insist," Noelle said smugly, pulling the box out.

London delicately lifted one of the black leather boots from the tissue inside the box and hugged it. "OmiG.o.d. I want to marry these boots!" "I don't know why you didn't just get a pair for yourself," Noelle said. London scowled and handed the coveted boot back. "I tried them on, but they pinched my feet." "Of course they did, Ms. Big Foot. You totally need that surgery where they pare down your tootsies," Vienna said. "Ew! Vienna!" I exclaimed. "What? Her feet are as wide as a duck's. Seriously! Have you not noticed? Here! I'll show you!" Vienna ex claimed, grabbing one of London's legs and lifting it onto her lap. She tugged at the lace of one of London's Coach booties and tried to pry it off. "Leave my monster feet alone!" London squealed, giggling as she tried to squirm from Vienna's grasp. "No! The world needs to know about your deformity!" Vienna said with a faux cackle.

We were all laughing as Drew pulled the car out onto the FDR. Then, suddenly, all five of our phones beeped and sang in near unison. Everyone scrambled in their bags, but my phone was hidden somewhere at the bottom of my Chloe. Vienna was the first to unearth her cell. "OmiG.o.d!" London and Vienna blurted in unison. They were both gaping down at Vien na's screen, looking ashen, London's legs still hooked over Vienna's. "What?" I asked, sitting up straight again. "What's wrong?" "The cops just dragged Ivy off for questioning!" London said, her eyes wide. My heart started to pound. They had come for her. They had finally come for her. "About Cheyenne?" Sabine asked, glancing at me with concern. Vienna swallowed and nodded. "There must be new evidence or something. They've actually reopened the case as a possible murder." Everything inside of me deflated. We sat there in stunned silence, let ting the true meaning of this sink in. Possible murder. Another murder. There could very well be a killer somewhere on campus. Again. Even though I had known this was a possibility, I still felt as if I was hearing the news for the first time. I guess I had been hoping it would all just go away. Now that hope had been dashed. I looked up at Noelle, my skin cold. She stared grimly back. We were going to have to go through this. Again.

Later that night Constance, Rose, Tiffany, and I walked into the solarium together. I hadn't seen the place so dead in months, not since Coffee Carma opened. But that night the place was so hushed it could have been a museum. People were talking--of course they were talk ing--but they were talking in whispers. Paranoid, frightened whispers. It was all too familiar. Too eerily, skin-tinglingly familiar. Cheyenne's death was bad enough. But Cheyenne's possible murder? It had left the place grim. I wanted to tell them all what I knew--that Cheyenne's grieving parents had asked for the investigation and that the po lice weren't 100 percent behind it--but I couldn't. Not without everyone knowing that I had been the one to visit with the cops last week. I glanced right and saw Josh alone at a table with a book open in front of him. He was looking at me but quickly looked away. What did that mean? "I really don't believe this is happening," Constance said under her breath, clinging to the sleeves of her white sweater. As we wove our way around the cafe tables and couches, every eye in the room was on us. The Billings Girls. Once again we were at the center of a murder investigation.

"How could it have been murder?" Tiffany whispered. "We were all there. We all saw her. She took pills. There was no violence, no struggle. She wrote a note. I don't understand." Two notes, actually. But there was no need for them to know that. "Well, clearly the police have something or they wouldn't be questioning all these people," Rose said. Her normally healthy skin looked waxy under her red ringlets. "I just can't imagine it. She must have been so scared. Why didn't she call for help? Why didn't she--" Rose's voice broke and she covered her face with her sleeve, which was pulled down over her hand. Tiffany put her arm around her and shot me a sad look. "We'll go get a table," she said.

My insides quaked as Constance and I joined the short line at the counter. I wanted to squirm to try to make this awful feeling go away, but I knew it wouldn't work. This feeling wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No point in letting half the school see me fidgety and nervous and scared in the meantime. "I hate this. I hate it," Constance said, hugging herself tighter. She leaned closer to me as the worker behind the counter fired up the foam maker.

"Do you realize that someone in this room might have killed her? Might have snuck right into our dorm while we were all asleep and killed Cheyenne? I can't handle this." I was about to re spond when the already quiet vibe went deathly still. As if someone had just hit the mute but ton on the sound track of our lives. Startled by the sudden silence, I turned around. Ivy stood in the doorway, looking like a rabid pit bull ready to strike. No one moved. They had let her go. The police had let her go. Her blue eyes found me in the crowd. "You," she said under her breath. She stormed across the room. Everyone turned to look at me now. To see what I would do. They must have been disappointed, because I could think of nothing. Like a deer in headlights, I just let her come. "Ivy." Josh stood as she pa.s.sed before him, but she flinched away. In two seconds her hand was on my arm. Grip like a vice. She dragged me away from Constance, who let out a gasp. "What are you--" "Back off," Ivy snapped at her. Ivy pulled me into the corner near the emergency exit where we were partially hidden from view by a large potted plant. I couldn't see anyone from this vantage point, which meant they couldn't see me either. My pulse started to race. Suddenly the airy room was full of murmurs. What was Ivy doing? No one treated the president of Billings this way. The thought finally woke me up from my stunned stupor and I s.n.a.t.c.hed my arm back, sure her grip was going to leave finger-shaped bruises. "What is wrong with you, you--"

"I know you were in my room at the Legacy," Ivy said, cutting me off. She stepped right up in my face, her dark hair like two blankets around those eerie blue eyes. I took an instinctive step back, then hated myself for it. "You found my alb.u.ms. You left them all over the floor, so I know that you know." "Know what?" I said, stalling for time. "Don't play dumb. It's beneath you," Ivy said. Weird. Was that a compliment? "Did you tell the police about me and Cheyenne?" she asked. She was all accusatory. Indignant. As if I had done something wrong. I lift ed my chin and looked her dead in the eye. "Yes, I did. You've got to admit, it's all a little sus pect," I said firmly. "You guys are best friends all the way up through soph.o.m.ore year, but now you hate each other out of nowhere? Put it all together with your shady criminal past and whatever this deal was with your grandmother and you start to look like a suspect to me."

"Shut up," Ivy said venomously. She didn't even register surprise at the revelation that I knew about her family and her indiscretions. "Do not talk about things you will never under stand." "So make me understand them," I replied, growing warm from all the adrenaline.

"What the h.e.l.l happened between you guys?" "I don't have to explain myself," Ivy said with a sneer. "Least of all to you." That sneer got right under my already taut skin. "You think you're so superior, don't you? You people with your rituals and your sisterhood c.r.a.p and your black ball ceremonies," Ivy said, her eyes narrowing. "Well, guess what, Reed? It's your turn now. Your turn to find out what it feels like to be blackballed. We're going to see how you like it." I couldn't breathe. All I could see were those black marbles in my desk drawer. She had put them there. She had to have put them there. Why else would she be saying these things to me? Ivy was my stalker. She had somehow gotten her hands on a key to Billings, whether by stealing Kiki's or getting one in the office or finding one some other way--it didn't matter. How ever she had done it, she was guilty. There was no other explanation.

"I've never done anything to you," I said through my teeth, trembling from head to toe. "I barely even know you. Why are you doing this to me?" Ivy smiled evilly. "Haven't done any thing. Yet." She turned to go and I instinctively reached out and grabbed her. "Stop lying, you freak." Her eyes went wide as she looked at my fingers on her arm. "You little-" "Ivy!" Josh came up behind her and touched her shoulder just as she made a move to attack. To hit me, push me, scratch me? I had no idea. But the touch of his fingers stopped her. "Come on," he said in her ear. Right in her ear. Their cheeks touching. Josh's skin against hers. I was going to throw up. "Come on. Let's get out of here," he said in that soothing voice I knew so well. It sent shivers of regret and longing and pain down my spine. "You don't need this. Let's just go." Ivy bent her head forward. Leaned her shoulder into him. "Fine. I'll go." Josh turned away, his hand now on her back. He never looked at me. Not once. "But this isn't over," Ivy said to me as he tugged her along. Said loud enough for every salivating student in the solar ium to hear. "You just sealed it, Reed. Billings is going down. And I'm taking down every last one of you with it."

Ivy. It was her. I was sure of it now. She hated Billings. She hated me. Maybe she even had some sort of sick, twisted, leftover loyalty to Cheyenne. She was the one messing with me. She had to be.

As I walked back to Billings with my friends, my hands shoved deep inside my pockets, the cold air clearing out my senses, it all made perfect sense. Maybe Cheyenne was the one who had ended their friendship. If what Noelle had said was true--that Ivy had turned down the invite to Billings--then Cheyenne might very well have cut the girl off. Nothing meant more to her than Billings. She never would have been able to accept the fact that someone didn't want to be there as much as she did. So maybe Cheyenne had ended their friendship, but Ivy still loved her. Maybe Ivy felt as if Billings had been responsible for the end of her friendship, for the end of her best friend's life. And now... now she was taking it out on me. "Reed? Reed, where are you right now?" Tiffany asked, leaning forward to get into my line of sight as we reached the front door.

"Just thinking," I replied. Oddly enough, I actually felt relieved. Happy. Safe. There was a theory that made sense. One that even exonerated all my friends. I couldn't believe that I had ever suspected any of them. Astrid, Shelby, even Missy. I hated Ivy for making me into a para noid freak who thought her friends were plotting against her. But at the same time, I was ec static to know that I was safe among my friends. Everything was going to be fine. "Don't waste any of your brain s.p.a.ce on Ivy," Tiffany said, rolling her eyes. "The girl has completely lost it." She yanked open the first door and used her electronic key to get through the second.

"You guys want to hang out for a while?" Rose asked as we all shed our coats in the foyer.

"Actually, I think I'm just going to go check my e-mail and go to bed," I replied. "It's been a long weekend."

I trudged up the stairs to my room, Constance and Sabine trailing behind me, gabbing about Ivy and whether she could possibly be a killer. I tried to tune them out, but they were far too loud. "I never liked the girl. The way she walks around here acting like she runs the place," Sabine said. "And she looks like a witch. With that pointy face and the dark hair and all the black clothes," Constance added. "Honestly? It's like The Wizard of Oz. Cheyenne was the good blond witch all in pink, and Ivy's the scary, psycho witch all in black." Sabine paused for a moment. "But in that story, the good witch survived and the bad witch melted." "Maybe we should go throw some water on her and see what happens," Constance said flatly as they followed me into our room. As they continued to gab over on Sabine's side, I opened my com puter with a sigh and brought up my e-mail. Instantly, my heart stopped beating. I had an email from Dash. Right there at the top of the page. It was t.i.tled "Long overdue," and it had been sent from a new e-mail address. Apparently he had wised up about his girlfriend's e-mail know-how.

Finally. Finally something. The guy sure took his dear, sweet time. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the girls were occupied, then started to sit down in my chair. I was about halfway to seated, when the chair and the whole world dropped out from under me. Right beneath Dash's e-mail was an e-mail from Cheyenne. And beneath that another. And beneath that another. I shakily reached for the mouse and scrolled down. Her name filled the whole page. It filled the entire page after that. And another. And another. The more I clicked, the more my eyes stung, watering until I couldn't focus anymore. I had blocked Cheyenne's address. Changed my own. I had stopped this. How had these e-mails gotten through. How? Was it Ivy? Was she some kind of computer hacker? Was she trying to show me that she could get to me no matter where I was?A bubble rose up in my throat and before I could stop it, a strangled sound came right out. I slapped my hand over my mouth, shut the browser, and quickly powered down the computer. But it was too late. Sabine and Constance had stopped talking. "Reed? Are you all right?" "M'just... sick," I mumbled. And it was true. The second I spoke I felt dinner coming back up. I raced past them into the bathroom, slammed the door, and fell to my knees in front of the toilet. After retching for what felt like an eternity, I flushed and put my b.u.t.t on the floor, shoving myself back against the wall, wondering if I'd ever really feel safe again.

The morning was always better. By the light of day everything seemed fine. Nightmares seemed impossible. Still, I didn't go near my computer. As much as I wanted to know what Dash's e-mail was all about, I couldn't handle Cheyenne's name staring me in the face like that. That was no way to start a day. At breakfast everyone was discussing the upcoming fund-raiser, whom they might bring as dates, what they were going to wear, where they would stay in the city that night, when Portia came whirling in with a copy of the New York Post. "O. M. G.!" she said dramatically, whipping the paper open and slapping it down in front of me.

"Look at this!" It was the infamous Page Six gossip column, and staring out at me was a large, full-color photo of Kiran Hayes in a hot pink dress, draped all over some Adonis and smiling seductively at the camera.

She had grown her dark hair out, and it fell in perfect waves over her tan shoulders and back. Gorgeous as always. "What is this?" I asked, pulling it closer as Noelle, Tiffany, and Astrid rose out of their seats to better see. "Check the cap!" Portia instructed, pointing a man icured nail at the text beneath. '"International It Girl Kiran Hayes celebrates her eighteenth birthday in style at the Ritz in Amsterdam,'" I read aloud. "'But don't fret, kiddies. Word is Miss Hayes will be bringing the party stateside next month. Think you're a VIP? You'll know if you receive an invite.'" "Sweet!" Tiffany said, sitting down again. "There's nothing like one of Ki ran's birthday parties." "She didn't have one last year," I pointed out. "That was because of all the... unpleasantness," Noelle said dismissively. "Did you guys know she was planning a par ty here?" Vienna asked from the other end of the table. "No," I replied.

"Of course," Noelle said at the same time, digging out a spoonful of yogurt and berries from her bowl. She looked at me from across the table and smirked. Of course she knew and I didn't. Of course. But did that mean I wasn't going to be invited? That I didn't rate as one of Kiran's VIPs? "So, Reed. Have you thought about who you're going to bring to the fund-rais er?" Noelle asked, smoothly changing the subject as she took another bite of breakfast. "Do I really need a date?" I asked. "I'm going to be busy enough as it is without babysitting some guy." "Are you kidding? Of course you need a date," Portia said as she slid into a chair at the other end of the table. "How would it look if the chairwoman of the event didn't have a date?

Answer? N.G."

Great. I had no idea people cared about such things. I glanced over at a small table near the corner, where Josh and Ivy sat together and alone, talking urgently over their untouched meals. Suddenly I felt hollow inside.Were the rumors that Josh and Ivy were together true, or did it just look that way? Part of me wished I knew for sure, but a larger part of me wanted to know nothing--wanted to be able to keep living in my own little world. A world in which he was still pining over me. He couldn't have started up with someone else so fast. Especially not a girl like her. And he certainly couldn't have been kissing Ivy in front of Pemberly. He was Josh. A gentleman. A thoughtful, caring, sensitive person. He just couldn't. As I watched, Josh leaned even closer to Ivy and hot anger shot through me. Did he really have to be so public about it? Did he really have to rub my face in whatever he and Ivy had? I was going to find a date who would put Josh to shame. I would do it if it killed me. And I was also going to find some way to prove that Ivy had been stalking me. He could never be with her if he knew that. Right? My phone trilled, knocking me out of my daze. I fished it out of my bag quickly and checked the screen. The call was coming from the manager of the St. Sebastian.

"It's Cheryl Wallace," I told Noelle. Her brows knit as I answered it, which gave me a thump of foreboding. Did this mean that something was wrong? "h.e.l.lo?" I answered. "h.e.l.lo, Miss Brennan. This is Cheryl Wallace from the Saint Sebastian," a woman's voice said pleas antly. "How are you this morning?" "Fine. How are you?" I asked, confused. "Well, I have some bad news, unfortunately," she said. I automatically turned away from my friends, swing ing my legs into the aisle between tables. "Bad news?" I repeated, lowering my voice. "Yes. I'm afraid there was some sort of snafu with our scheduling program," Cheryl said. "It seems your date has been booked for weeks." "What?" I blurted loudly. "No. That's not possible." Ev eryone at the two Billings tables fell silent, as did half the dining hall. I placed my hand on my forehead as my heart began a panicked dance inside my chest.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Brennan, but there's nothing I can do." "No. There must be something. The fund-raiser is less than a week away," I said desperately, closing my eyes against the cu rious stares. "We signed a contract. We... we put down a deposit." "Which will be refunded in full, of course," she said politely. "You're not getting it," I replied, my voice so tense I barely recognized it. "The invitations have already been sent. You can't--" "Again, Miss Brennan. I'm very sorry. But--" "Don't tell me there's nothing you can do!" I shouted. "Who booked the place? Maybe I can call them and convince them to--" "I'm afraid I can't share that informa tion," Cheryl said, clucking her tongue. "But you have to! There has to be something I can--"

"Please accept my apologies, Miss Brennan. I'll put your check in the mail today." With that, she hung up and I started to hyperventilate. I placed my phone on the table and slowly turned around, resting my elbows on either side of it. I stared down at the screen, willing it to ring again. Willing Cheryl to call back and tell me it was all a joke. A misunderstanding. But the phone lay still and silent. "Reed, what is it? What's going on?" Tiffany asked. "She said... she said the place had already been booked. They messed up," I replied, looking up at all of them desperately. "She says there's nothing she can do."

The Billings Girls stared back at me, shocked. I had let them down. I had let them all down. "There goes the fund-raiser," Missy said finally. "And Billings," Rose added, looking ill. Tears stung my eyes. What were we going to do? I had let them all down. Every one of them. I was going to go down in history as the president who killed Billings. "All right, all right. Every one calm down," Noelle said loudly. "I happen to have a backup plan." "You do?" Vienna asked. "You do?" I echoed, feeling a rush of hope. Noelle looked at me and folded her arms in front of her on the table. "I booked Loft Blanc," she told me. There was something approach ing an apology in her eyes. "Just in case." "You what?" I blurted, my relief turning to anger.

"Why would you-" "Just in case," she repeated. "When you throw together an event this fast, it's always good to have a backup."

My skin started a slow burn. All day Sunday she had acted as if she had come around to my way of thinking. That the St. Sebastian was the best venue for our event. But all the while, she had already gone behind my back and booked the place she had wanted. She had been hoping something like this would happen. I could see it in her eyes. "Noelle! You are a ge nius!" London cried, getting up and hugging Noelle from behind. "What would we do without you?" Vienna added.

Suddenly everyone was getting up, congratulating Noelle. A few people even golf clapped for her achievement. And I had to sit there and watch it all. Watch them thank her for saving my a.s.s. Watch her preen at the attention. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, it was always Noelle who saved the day. Always Noelle who got the credit.

DIABOLICAL.

"I am so glad Noelle had a backup plan," Constance gushed as she slid into the seat next to mine in calc cla.s.s that afternoon. "I swear, when you said that place had been booked al ready, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I mean, to get into Billings and then have it shut down? That would be so not fair." "Yeah. Thank G.o.d for Noelle," I grumbled halfheartedly, tak ing out my heavy calculus tome. Sabine and Missy looked at each other as they took their own seats nearby, and both scoffed in unison. That was interesting. I was pretty sure I'd nev er seen those two connect on anything. Ever. "What?" I asked warily. The rest of the cla.s.s room started to fill in around us, but Mr. Crandle hadn't arrived yet. "You know that Noelle booked the St. Sebastian herself," Sabine said, perching on the edge of her chair. "Who else has the money to pay for the venue and bribe them to lie to you?" My heart tumbled down along my rib cage. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, lie?" Missy laughed and shook her head as she opened her notebook. It was all I could do to keep from elbowing her in the face.

"We were there, Reed. We all saw their schedule. There was nothing booked for this Satur day," Sabine said in a soothing tone, like she was explaining a deathly diagnosis to a delicate cancer patient. "The only way this could have happened would be if someone called up after we booked it and offered them more money." "No," I said, shaking my head, even as my cheeks turned pink with irritation. "She wouldn't do that." I might have been irritated that Noelle always seemed to manage to save the day, but I couldn't believe she'd actually plot against me. That she would set up a situation just so that she would have to swoop in and fix things. "Yeah. No way," Constance agreed. "Oh, please. Would you wake up already?" Missy said incredulously. "Did you not go to school here last year? What would Noelle not do to get her way? " "Nothing," Sabine agreed. "She couldn't handle the fact that you made all the deci sions this weekend, so she set up a problem so that she could fix it. Now she looks like the hero." "It's perfect, really," Missy added as Mr. Crandle entered the room, dropping his leather briefcase on his desk. "Diabolical, but perfect." "No. I can't believe she would orchestrate something like this," I said. "I just--" "You're clouded by your friendship," Sabine whispered, leaning toward me. "But I can see her for what she really is, and trust me, that girl doesn't care about anyone but herself."

Before I could respond, she turned and resolutely faced the front of the room, unwilling to hear more. I glanced at Constance, who simply shrugged. "Everyone kindly open your books to page one hundred fifteen," Mr. Crandle announced as he started writing an equation on the board. "I hope you're all ready to concentrate, because this is going to be an intense day."

Tell me about it. I sighed and opened my book, trying to put thoughts of Noelle and the fundraiser out of my mind, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about Sabine's last words. That Noelle didn't care about anyone but herself. I was starting to think she might be right.

After cla.s.ses I walked slowly across the quad, taking my time on my way back to Billings. I thought about stopping for coffee, but didn't want to feel more jittery than I already did. I thought about going to the library, but I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on studying. Besides, I was supposed to be helping my friends with the fund-raiser. There was no avoiding it. I had to go home.

But maybe I would just stop for my mail first. And read it all in front of my P.O. box. Even the catalogs. Anything to avoid Billings. Avoid the merriment. And, of course, my room. Even though there was a murder investigation going on, Billings had suddenly become the most an imated s.p.a.ce south of the North Pole. My friends, it seemed, had chosen to ignore the morbid and throw themselves into the fund-raiser. To deal with the problem they could actually solve. I should have been happy to see them rushing home to put together gift bags and make place cards and schedule makeover appointments. I should have felt gratified that everyone was be hind my plan. But I wasn't. I was depressed.

It no longer felt like my plan--it felt like Noelle's. It no longer felt like my night, considering I couldn't even bring the guy I wanted to bring. At least I knew that Ivy and Josh wouldn't be at tending the event. No one was more anti-Billings than those two, so I couldn't imagine either one of them putting up the funds for admission. Luckily, I wouldn't have to watch them canoodling all night. Of course, that also meant they'd be back here at Easton, with practically the whole campus to themselves. They could canoodle all over the place if they wanted to. Great. Now I was even more depressed. Part of me was actually looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving next week. Go figure. I shoved open the post office door and walked over to my mailbox, quickly working the lock. Inside there was only one envelope, large, red, and square--with my name and address printed in gold. Intrigued, I tore right into it. The lining of the envelope was purple, and the invitation inside was round and black. An invitation to Kiran Hayes's eighteenth birthday party. My heart leapt as if I'd just been accepted to Harvard. Kiran remembered me. She had actually included me in her plans. I went to shove the invite back in the envelope and noticed a piece of heavy white card stock nestled inside. The initials K. H. were stamped at the top. Underneath was a handwritten note from Kiran. Reed, It's been TOO long. Please come. Would love to catch up. x's, Kiran Okay. So maybe things were finally starting to look up. Grinning from ear to ear, I walked back to the doors. Standing at the counter near the exit was Marc, picking up a rather large package. His face lit up when he saw me. Which was nice. "Hey!" he said, sliding the box off the counter and wrapping both arms around it in front of him. His fingers barely made it around the sides. "What's up?" Nothing. Just picked up my mail," I replied. "That's a big box."

"My grandmother. She thinks I'm going to freeze to death up here, so every winter she sends me a whole mess of homemade sweaters. She even took a knitting cla.s.s so she could make them look more professional, since I go to school with all those, quote, 'fashion plates.'" G.o.d, he was so normal. And sweet, actually appreciating his grandmother and all. If I couldn't go to the fund-raiser with Josh, this was the person I wanted to go with. Someone who wouldn't spend all night seeking my attention or looking down my dress or getting drunk off his a.s.s and being an embarra.s.sment. And so I just said it. "Marc, do you want to be my date for the fundraiser?" I asked. His eyebrows shot up and he readjusted the box, tossing it up to get a better grip near the bottom. "Seriously?" "Seriously." "I'd be honored," he replied with a grin. "Escorting the wom an of the hour. It would be my extreme pleasure." I laughed. It was nice to hear that someone I actually respected thought of me that way. "Thanks. I'll, um... I'll give you all the info tomor row." I would have e-mailed it to him, but I had that whole computer-avoidance issue.

"Sounds good," Marc replied, starting past me, awkwardly managing the box and his hefty backpack, which had slid down and now hung from his elbow. "Thanks for asking me."

"Thanks for saying yes," I replied with a smile. As Marc hobbled out, I felt about ten times bet ter. I was invited to Kiran's party, and I had a date for the fund-raiser, with someone I might ac tually want to talk to, at that. I knew the Billings Girls wouldn't approve--they would have pre ferred a Hunter Braden, even if he was a jacka.s.s--but at that moment I didn't care. Maybe it was time for this Billings president to start doing things her own way.

When I walked into Billings, Noelle was standing near the fireplace in the foyer with Tiffany and the Twin Cities while Sabine, Constance, Kiki, and Astrid pored over a printout of the guest list. Noelle turned and her eyes went right to the invitation, which was still clutched in my hand. "Oh, good. You got one. I thought I was going to have to text Kiran and remind her to invite you," she said. All the blood in my body rushed right to my head and started to boil. Like I needed her help to land an invite. Like I would be nowhere without her. "So, Reed,"

Noelle continued, as if she hadn't just insulted me, "since the whole night is about glamour, we were talking about maybe hiring some models to just circulate around the room and look hot. What do you think of--" Without a word, I turned and stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I could practically feel the hushed surprise at my rudeness following me all the way up to my room, but I didn't care. I was so sick of Noelle. So sick of her constantly trying to put me in my place. As if she could define what my place was. Maybe last year. Maybe last year I had let her do that. But not anymore.

The door opened behind me and I whirled around, expecting to find Noelle walking in with out a knock as always. But it was Sabine. A very timid-looking Sabine. "What was that?" she half-whispered. "Are you okay?" "Actually, no. I'm not," I blurted, throwing my coat down on my bed. "I'm starting to think you're right about Noelle. I mean, I always just figured that her lit tle digs and stuff were just part of her personality, and I let them roll off my back or whatever, but now I'm starting to wonder why I need to be friends with a person who treats people like that. When does it stop? When do we become good enough friends that she stops wanting to make me feel like s.h.i.t?" I had no idea there was so much venom inside of me until it started spewing out. I took a deep breath and looked at the floor. "Maybe you're right. Maybe the only person she cares about is herself."

"Well, have you ever seen her be consistently nice to any of her friends?" Sabine asked. I thought back to last year. Back to her random jabs at Taylor and that whole incident with Ki ran and her Dreck boy. She certainly hadn't treated either of those so-called BFFs with much respect. But then there was the other. "Ariana," I said bitterly. "She's the only one Noelle nev er put down." Sabine stared at me. I knew the name didn't hold as much power with her as it did with me, but she had heard the story. She knew enough to know that Ariana was an inter esting choice when it came to showing loyalty. "If one of your friends has you paranoid... con stantly walking around wondering when she's going to choose to backstab you... then that per son isn't much of a friend," Sabine said finally, biting her lip. And she had a very good point. Last year I had needed Noelle and the other Billings Girls. Their friendship had seemed so im portant to me--to helping me leave my old life behind and become the person I wanted to be here at Easton. But now I was that person. I was Billings president. And all those other girls were gone. Everyone but Noelle. Did I really need her hanging around, constantly reminding me of how lucky I was to know her?

Definitely not. The door opened. "Reed, we have to talk," Noelle said. I looked at her. Looked at Sabine. My chest was heaving from all my running and ranting. My heart pounded in my ears. What to say? How to handle this? "Do you mind?" Noelle said to Sabine. "She can stay," I snapped. "This is her room, not yours. This house is not yours. I may have thought it was once, but I was wrong. It doesn't all belong to you. We don't all belong to you." Noelle took a deep breath. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me. "Okay. So obvi ously you're p.i.s.sed off about something." My skin tingled as I faced off with her. I felt like I was about to go into battle. Like I was Russell Crowe in that gladiator movie my brother was so obsessed with, standing just outside the gates of the Colosseum, listening to the crowd that was salivating for my blood. "Try a lot of things," I replied.

"You still think I'm trying to take over," Noelle theorized. Sabine quietly moved away and sat down on the edge of her desk chair from the side, watching us. "You're not?" Noelle rolled her eyes and tipped her head back. "Reed, we both have the same goal here. We're both just trying to save Billings. G.o.d, this is more for you than me. You're still going to be here next year. Do you want to spend your senior year in Pemberly?" "That's not what this is about. This is about you trying to sabotage me," I replied, crossing my arms as well. "Sabotage you?"

Noelle's face screwed up in confusion. "What are you smoking?" "Did you or did you not call back Cheryl after we left and convince her to say the place was booked? " I demanded, my face hot at my own audacity. Noelle appeared shocked. But was she? "What?" "I think you did. I think you knew all along that the St. Sebastian was going to fall through and that's why you booked Loft Blanc," I told her. "It's vintage Noelle. Not only do you get your way, but you get to swoop in and look like the hero to everyone in the process."

"You're cracked!" Noelle said sharply. "I would never do something like that." "Oh, wouldn't you?" I shot back. Noelle took a deep breath and pushed her hands through her hair, lifting it back from her face. "Okay. Don't get me wrong. There's a lot I'd do to get my way, but do you have any idea what a huge waste that would have been? My family may have a lot of money, Reed, but we didn't get where we are by burning huge piles of it for no apparent reason."

"Yeah. Right." "Look, I only booked Loft Blanc because I've been through this before," Noelle told me, lifting a hand. "Two summers ago, my cousin's wedding got canceled the week be fore the ceremony because the place she booked went under. It was a total nightmare. Ever since then my mother has booked two venues for every important party we've hosted. And I think you know that this is one h.e.l.l of an important party."

I stared at Noelle's face. For once her expression was completely without guile. She looked almost desperate. Desperate for me to believe her. And, to be honest, I'd never heard her try to explain herself so vehemently in my life. "Swear you didn't book the St. Sebastian," I demanded. Sabine shifted in her seat, and I knew she was annoyed that I was caving, but I ig nored her. "Reed, I swear," Noelle said. I tipped my head forward and covered my face with my hands. c.r.a.p. I believed her. I so wanted to be all indignant and right, but I believed her.

"So are we okay?" Noelle asked. "No," I blurted. "No. We're not." Her brow creased as I looked up at her again. "Why not?" "You have to stop, Noelle," I said, rounding my shoulders.

"You have to stop treating me like I'm some moronic little peon to be mocked. I'm not Gla.s.sLicker anymore. I'm the president of this house. And I'm supposed to be your friend. You have to stop... picking on me. As lame as that sounds." I expected her to smirk. To say something condescending about how cute I was or something. But she merely looked stricken.

"I'm not going to take it anymore," I told her. "We're either friends... equals... or we're not. So which is it gonna be?" Noelle blew out a sigh. She walked past me and sat on the edge of my bed. She looked so confused and displaced. Like she was going through an out-of-body experience. Which maybe she was. There was a good chance no one had ever called her on her behavior before. "Noelle?" I prompted. "We're friends," she said, looking up at me, her eyes huge. "Equals." "You're sure about that." "Reed, you and I... we've been through so much together. Thomas and Ariana and all that c.r.a.p around the Legacy last year and this thing with Dash..." I glanced over at Sabine, who looked at me curiously. Yeah. That was the first time she'd ever heard about any "thing with Dash." "Honestly? I would have annihilated anyone else who pulled what you pulled, but I forgave you without a blink. Think about that,"

Noelle said firmly. "How could you ever doubt that we're friends?"

My heart expanded so quickly I thought it might fill up my chest and crack my ribs. I had never heard Noelle sound so sincere. So vulnerable. I was starting to regret having let Sabine stay. I knew that in the light of day, Noelle was going to hate the fact that anyone other than me had seen her like this. "So... why do you treat me the way you do? What's with all the backhanded comments and put-downs?" I asked. Noelle stood up again and hugged herself, as if she'd just gotten a chill. "I don't know. Maybe it's because you're kind of like the little sis ter I never had. You're supposed to mess with your little sister, right?" she joked halfheartedly.

"True," I said, thinking of Scott. "Or in the case of my family, torture them, steal their tooth fairy money, and blame them for everything." Noelle chuckled. "I really have to meet your brother sometime." Now that would be interesting. She took a deep breath. "But anyway, I'll stop if you want me to stop. Or at least I'll try. I can't guarantee a total personality overhaul."

"Thanks." We both stood there for a moment awkwardly, not knowing what to do. I felt deflat ed. Exhausted. All that adrenaline and anger had been sucked right out of me so fast I was al most light-headed. "So, should we hug or something?" Noelle suggested finally. "Sure." So we did. And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. I still had Noelle on my side. I hadn't real ized how uncertain the threat of breaking free of her had made me feel. If there was anyone at Easton I needed, it was her. The girl who had taken me under her wing. The girl who had saved my life. The girl who had convinced me to come back after I'd decided to drop out. I could never let myself forget that again.

BECAUSE OF ME.

The rest of the week pa.s.sed in a whirlwind of phone calls from florists and caterers and drivers and alumni. There was some insanity when we discovered that London and Vienna had taken it upon themselves to run with the models - as - moving-art idea and had each hired twenty guys--and no girls--by luring them into working for free with the promise of the amazing contacts they could make. Luckily we managed to fix the problem in time and hire twenty girls. Somehow in there I managed to write a paper for Spanish and ace a history test. Apparently, I was a good mult.i.tasker.

The best part of the whole week was that the stalking had stopped. Maybe Ivy had gotten bored or busy or scared after her trip to the police station, but whatever the reason, the whole week pa.s.sed without another incident. On Wednesday, I went to the administration office and changed my e-mail address for the second time, promising myself that I would give this one only to teachers and family. My friends could text my phone if they wanted to--I didn't care. All that mattered to me was never seeing Cheyenne's name in my in-box again. As for Dash's email, it was just going to have to go unread. And so what? He was Noelle's boyfriend now. If she was going to try to change for me, the least I could do was quit her man cold turkey. By the time Sat.u.r.day morning rolled around and we were all piling our luggage and make up cases and garment bags outside the front door of Billings for our chauffeurs to take to the cars, I was feeling pretty d.a.m.n good about myself and about the house. I gathered everyone into the foyer, climbed to the third step of the staircase, and shouted for everyone's attention. They fell silent instantly. Fifteen pairs of interested eyes looked up at me, riveted. This was power.

"I just wanted to thank everyone for all your hard work these past couple of weeks," I an nounced, gripping the banister. I lifted my blue folder, which contained the guest list and all the spreadsheets breaking down received donations and pledged donations. "And although my father always says, 'Never count a chicken before it's hatched,' I think it's safe to say that with all the money we've already made, and all the money we stand to make at Ta.s.sos's silent auction tonight, we will more than reach our goal." Everyone cheered and hugged and congratulated one another. I watched it all from my perch, feeling like I'd really done it. I'd saved our home. This was all because of me. As I watched my friends giddily trail out the door to head for our waiting limousines, I even had a stray thought of Cheyenne and how proud she would be. I felt warmed by the idea.

"Reed! Reed!" Rose jogged back inside with a vase full of white roses. "These were just delivered for you!" Vienna, London, Rose, and Noelle all gathered around while I read the card.

"They're from Marc," I said happily. "He says good luck and he'll see me tonight." "I think we underestimated Scholarship Boy," London said, earning a pointed glare from Noelle. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that my friends kept forgetting that I was on scholarship? "White roses. A smart choice," Vienna mused. "Red would be too pushy, pink would be too babyish, but white... white is..." "Elegant. Refined," Noelle said, taking the vase from my hands and placing it in the center of the mantel. "The kid's good." I smiled, glad they were coming around. Even if I didn't intend to seriously date the guy, it was nice to know my friends had some depth. "We should get out of here. We have to beat the traffic," I said, hustling the strag glers out. Everyone rushed ahead into the cold as I paused to close the door behind us. The two chauffeurs were just gathering up the last of our things and I was about to thank them when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. Ivy. Speed-walking away from Billings toward Pemberly. My heart stopped at the sight of her. What had she been doing over here? And why was she in such a rush? She was moving so quickly and was so oblivious to her surroundings that she practically mowed over Amberly Carmichael and her group of follow ers, who had paused for a chat on one of the paths.

"See you tonight, Reed! We can't wait!" Amberly called out to me, waving a mittened hand. I took a deep breath and told myself to forget about Ivy. Right now I had to get through tonight and declare a Billings victory. Then I could deal with her. "See you there!" I shouted back. I jogged across the quad to catch up with my friends, past Bradwell to the circle, where the limos idled near the curb. Everyone randomly piled into the cars, intent on getting out of the cold. As I settled in and looked around, I found that I had ended up with most of the seniors. Noelle, Tiffany, London, Vienna, Rose, Portia, and Shelby. Tiffany reached into a vat of ice built into the door and extracted a bottle of champagne. "Let's get this celebration started!"

she announced, popping it open.

Everyone cheered as foam washed over the side of the bottle onto the floor. We squealed and pulled our feet back, out of the line of fire. As the car pulled away from the curb, Rose pa.s.sed around champagne flutes and Tiffany clumsily poured. "I would like to propose a toast!" Noelle announced, lifting her gla.s.s once everyone had been served. "To Reed!" "To Reed!" everyone chorused, lifting their gla.s.ses. "No, ladies. I wasn't finished," Noelle admon ished with a sly look. Champagne sloshed everywhere as the limo hit the speed b.u.mp near the bottom of the hill, and we all laughed. "This girl has saved Billings, she's landed herself an adorable boy and has half a dozen more pursuing her, and she looks simply fabulous," Noelle continued. I blushed and my friends cracked up laughing. "What I'm trying to say is, you clear ly chose wisely when you chose our president," Noelle said, looking me in the eye. Everyone murmured their agreement. My heart was about to burst. "To Reed." "To Reed!" It was one of the best moments of my life.

BEST FRIENDS.

I loved that I was sipping champagne in a salon on Park Avenue with a sign on the door that read Closed for Private Event. I loved that people kept stopping on the street and peeking in, trying to get a glimpse of what fabulousness might be occurring inside. I loved the way it felt to be on the inside looking out, instead of the outside looking in. It was one of those moments when I realized absolutely and unequivocally how lucky I was. How the h.e.l.l did I, Reed Brennan from Croton, Pennsylvania, end up here, talking to a U.S. senator about which eye shadow she should go with while Frederica Falk lined the lips of a famous morning news anchor, and twin fashion heiresses swapped nightmare customs sto ries with my friends over in the corner? Unreal. "So. This is going well," Noelle said, sidling up to me as the senator politely took her leave. But not before pressing a check into my hand. I unfolded the check and my eyes widened at the number. I held it up for Noelle to see. "I'll say."

She smiled. "That's nothing. Check out the wad that Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber over there handed to Tiffany so they could have a closed set during their shoot with Ta.s.sos."

She turned around, her back to the crowd, and pulled out a rolled-up stack of bills that was so thick it could have been used as a paperweight. I laughed and swigged my champagne. "I hate to be vulgar, but Cromwell is going to s.h.i.t." "Can I be there when it happens?" Noelle asked, tucking the money away again. "Absolutely." We both smiled, enjoying the warmth of the moment. This was going to workout. The fund-raiser, our friendship, everything. It was all going to work out. "There! Perfection!" Frederica announced as she finished with the anchor woman. All afternoon this had been her signal that she was done with a client, and the entire room fell silent at the sound of her pinched, heavily accented voice. Frederica was a diminutive German woman with platinum blond hair and tiny horn-rimmed gla.s.ses, who--even though she couldn't have been taller than five feet--had a commanding presence. When she spoke, people listened.

"And now, for the organizer of our event," Frederica said. She marched over to me, all bones and black turtleneck and slicked-back hair, and grabbed my shoulders. "I must do you!"

"What? Me? No," I protested. "This event is for our donors--" "Nonsense! None of them would be here if not for you!" she said, forcibly turning me toward her chair. "And I must work on this flawless face," she added, tapping my cheeks with her cold hands from behind as we looked in the mirror. 'You cannot say no." "She's right, Reed," Noelle said, taking my champagne gla.s.s from me. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime type of thing to have Frederica work her magic."

My friends and their guests and all the alumni in the salon were either eyeing me envious ly for being singled out, or encouraging me to seize the opportunity. "Sit," Fredericka ordered, forcibly pushing me into the chair. She was stronger than her scrawny body let on. "We do this now." "All right, then," I said, looking in the mirror at the waiting clientele, the women get ting their blowouts and the others in black smocks, still waiting their turns. "If no one else minds." No one said a word. Apparently, in a room full of luminaries and debutantes and zil lionaires, I was the one person allowed to cut the line. "I'll go refill your champagne," Noelle said, squeezing my shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. I smiled and settled back in the chair. All day Noelle had been by my side and not once had she hit me with a derisive comment or a sneer or even a slightly condescending look. And now she was running off to get me champagne like it was no big deal. Like she didn't covet the position I was in. Like she didn't mind doing things for me at all. Maybe we really were best friends.

I had been inside a few Manhattan dwellings in the past two years. The first two--Thomas Pearson's apartment and the Legacy locale from last October--I didn't remember much about. I had been dizzy with grief and confusion when I'd visited the Pearson home, and it wasn't as if his parents had given everyone the grand tour during their son's wake. All I recalled was that it seemed large and cold and overly furnished. The Legacy penthouse was even more of a blur, considering how drunk I'd gotten and how dark it had been. I remembered thinking it was huge, and that the view of Central Park was amazing. The third, Josh Hollis's downtown brownstone, was nice. Cozy. Tricked out with all the modern amenities, but with a feeling like a real family home. And I didn't want to think about it any further than that. Noelle's house, however, was astonishing. It was like a full-blown mansion nestled in the middle of an other wise una.s.suming block.

From the outside it looked like a posh apartment building with its grand staircase and big, red door complete with a gold knocker. It looked large enough to be divided into eight or ten units. But it wasn't. It was one unit. One, huge, gorgeous, pristine, divine unit. Sabine and I must have looked like awed tourists at Versailles as Noelle led us through the foyer toward the back of the house and the elevator. We all shed our coats as we went, and handed them to one of three waiting maids, who followed after us silently. I almost tripped peeking into the rooms that lined the long entryway--a library with more books than the Croton library could ever hope to own, a conservatory with a grand piano, a sitting room like some thing out of an Austen novel. This place was sick.

But no one else seemed to notice. Not even Constance. Which made me wonder what their houses were like. Noelle's room, where we would all be staying that night, was situated on the fourth of five floors. In fact, her room was the fourth floor. It was more of a suite, with an enormous bedroom, a sitting room with a TV the size of a movie screen, a walk-in closet with rows and rows of clothes, and a pink-marble bathroom I could have gotten lost in. It also had a mini kitchen stocked with snacks and a state-of-the art espresso machine, and its own outdoor patio overlooking the park. My whole family could have lived in Noelle's suite comfort ably.