Private: Ambition Part 6

"All right, make yourselves pretty!" Noelle announced, tossing her bag and dress on her four-poster bed. "Use whatever you need. Except the stuff in my special cosmetics cabinet. Oh, but I had a lock put on that anyway. Since I don't trust any of you," she joked. Everyone laughed and went about unpacking their things. We didn't have much time before the start of the dinner and silent auction, so we dressed quickly, all sixteen of us in the same room--zip ping each other's dresses, clasping necklaces, buckling straps on shoes. As soon as every one was clothed, there was a race for the bathroom and dressing rooms with their well-lit mir rors. I stayed behind with Noelle. My makeup had already been done by a professional.

"Noelle, this place is amazing," I said, walking over to the gla.s.s sliders that led to the pa tio. The short hem of my gold dress skimmed my thighs and the smooth fabric made me feel decadent. "Not what I would have imagined, though." "No?" she asked, fastening a sparking sapphire necklace around her neck as she joined me. "Why not?" "Because it's not a huge mess," I replied with a smirk. She smiled in return. "I have my own staff, Reed. Believe me, this place did not look like this when last I left." She turned to an oak cabinet and slid open the doors. "Music?" Inside was a sleek stereo system surrounded by shelves and shelves of CDs and old-school records. An iPod was hooked up to the system, but there was also a CD play er and a record player standing by. "Wow. I had no idea you were so into music," I said, run ning my fingers along the spines of the alb.u.ms. A lot of my dad's favorite cla.s.sics were repre sented. Everything from the Beatles to the Doors to the Clash to Us and hundreds of bands in between. "It's my obsession," Noelle said, shrugging. She selected a CD and popped it in.

"Concerts are my anti-drug," she said with a wry smile. As music poured through speakers in every corner and Noelle disappeared into her closet for shoes, I realized there was a lot I didn't know about her. Did she like to read? If so, what? What did she like to watch on that huge TV screen of hers? And I knew she liked to travel, but where? What did she and Dash do together for fun? Maybe we weren't as good friends as I had started to believe we were. But I could remedy that. Starting now.

I reached into my bag for my new perfume and popped off the cap. "So, what was the last concert you saw?" I shouted to be heard in the depths of her closet. I spritzed the perfume just as Portia, Rose, Tiffany, and Sabine returned from the bathroom, gabbing away. The scent filled my senses and I instantly gagged. Cheyenne. It smelled like Cheyenne. The scent was in my nose, on my clothes, in my hair, floating in the air all around me. Cheyenne's scent. Cheyenne's signature sweet, flowery scent. The other girls froze in their tracks. "Did you just spray Fleur?" Rose asked, confused. "That's a little weird, Reed. Cheyenne's perfume?" Por tia said. "No! I" I glanced down at the bottle. It was a small round atomizer with the word Fleur printed across it in smoky white letters. Where had this come from? I hadn't packed this. I checked the bag I'd extracted it from to make sure it was mine, and it was. My pajamas, my book, my makeup bag.

"I didn't bring this," I said, feeling dizzy. The scent was in my head now. Making me foggy even as my heartbeat pounded against my chest. "I packed the bottle I bought at Barneys last weekend. I swear. It was called Free, remember?" I said, looking to Sabine for confirmation.

"Well, maybe you picked up this one instead when you were packing," Sabine replied, looking a little concerned. "No. I don't own any other perfume," I snapped, feeling like a caged dog.

"That was the first bottle I've ever bought." Noelle emerged from the closet at that moment and saw everyone staring at me. "Reed? What's wrong?" I took a couple shaky steps back and dropped onto the edge of her bed. "This isn't mine. I didn't bring this. I didn't buy it. I would ever... I'd never want to smell like... Somebody must have put it in my bag."

I looked up at all of them, wide-eyed, my pulse visible in my wrists, and they simply stared back, disturbed. Disturbed and confused and worried. "Reed, why would anyone put Cheyenne's perfume in your bag?" Tiffany asked. "I don't know!" I wailed, shaking and on the verge of tears. Her scent was all over me. Choking me. "Why would anyone do any of the things they're doing? Why would anyone--" I stopped abruptly, realizing I'd said too much. A few of the other girls had joined us now and everyone was watching me as if I were an escaped lu natic. "What things?" Rose asked, hugging herself. I glanced around the room. I couldn't tell them. They were going to think I was insane. And maybe I was. Maybe I was losing my mind.

"I have to get out of this dress," I said, standing and grabbing for the zipper behind my neck. My hands were so slippery with sweat they couldn't grasp the zipper. "Get me out of it. Somebody unzip it!" I demanded. Constance rushed forward and undid the zip. Cool air rushed all over my skin and I let it fall to the floor, kicking it aside. "I can't wear that. It smells like her," I rambled, standing in front of all of them in my one and only set of lacy underwear. Goose b.u.mps covered my bare skin, and I was starting to lose my breath. "I can't wear that. I have to wear something else." "Reed, calm down." Noelle broke through my line of horrified onlookers and grasped my arm. "You can wear something of mine. It's all good." "Are you okay?" Sabine asked, as Noelle led me back through the crowd toward her closet. "Do you need anything?" "Just get rid of that bottle. I don't care what you do with it," I said, gasping for air. I glanced at the offending bottle that I'd left on Noelle's bedspread. "Just get rid of it."

As soon as we were inside the closet, Noelle closed the door and sat me down on a suede bench between racks of clothes. Tears stung my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I braced my hands on the bench at my sides and squirmed, gasping for air. The photo and the black marbles and the clothing and the e-mails and now this. It was all too much. "Reed, you have to breathe," Noelle told me, kneeling in her black dress in front of me. "You're freaking me out here. Please breathe." I gulped for air, but it stopped at my throat. It wouldn't go through to my lungs. "Put your head between your legs." She forced my head down and I saw spots, but the next breath hit home. My lungs burned as I sucked in air and coughed, tears of pain now coursing down my face, dropping onto the thick white carpet at my feet. "That's it. Breathe," Noelle told me in a soothing voice. "Breathe."

When I finally started to return to normal, I sat up and took in a nice, long breath of air. I wiped my eyes and came away with black streaks. So much for my professional makeover.

"Better?" she asked. I managed to nod. "What is going on?" She got up from the floor and sat next to me. "What was that all about?" I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't. I had just earned her respect. I couldn't tell her that someone at Easton was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with me. Or that I was quite possibly losing my mind. I couldn't show her just how vulnerable I was. Not now. Suddenly, now that my head was clear, I remembered. Remembered seeing Ivy just before we left Eas ton, beating a hasty retreat away from Billings. All our bags had been stacked outside for at least fifteen minutes. She could have done this. She could have switched out my bottle of Free for a bottle of Fleur. After all, she could have easily figured out which bag was mine--my initials were embroidered on it. It had to have been her. It was the only explanation that made any sense.

"Reed?" Noelle prompted. I looked up at my friend, at her concerned face, but I knew I couldn't tell her. Not yet. Not until I was sure. So I did something I'd found myself doing a lot lately. I lied. "I don't know. I don't... I don't know how that perfume got in my bag, but the sec ond I sprayed it, I guess it just all came rushing back," I replied. "Cheyenne always wore that perfume. I guess it just brought it all back so vividly--finding her body, how awful that day was.... I don't know." Noelle pushed my hair behind my shoulder and ran her hand down the length of it in a comforting way. "Are you sure that's it? There's nothing else you want to tell me?" "No," I said, sniffling. "I just lost it for a second there. I'm sorry." I stood up and squared my shoulders, trying to show her I was okay. "Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing a dress?" Noelle stood as well and turned toward the section of her closet where little black dresses hung in neat rows. "Take your pick. As long as you're sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," I lied. "I have to be. I have a fund-raiser to run." Noelle smiled in a proud way.

"That's my little--I mean, good for you," she said with a nod, correcting herself. "I'll go tell them you're okay. You just get dressed and clean yourself up." She picked up a Charles David shoe box and extracted a small gold key from the toe of a stiletto heel inside. "You can even use the special cosmetics." "Thanks." I smiled as she slipped out and closed the door behind her. The moment she was gone, I sat down at the dressing table and stared at myself in the mirror. Eyeliner dripped down my face, and the cream blush that had been so carefully ap plied was all but gone. I looked like a sad clown who'd been caught in a rainstorm. Scary. Freakish. Insane.

How was I going to do this? How was I going to pull this night off while feeling like I was about to lose my mind? I stared into my puffy eyes and took a deep breath. Outside, the Billings Girls were chatting happily, my frantic moment clearly forgotten. "You have to do this, Reed. For them. For Billings," I told myself, even as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. "You can get fitted for your straitjacket later."

Noelle had been right all along. Loft Blanc was the perfect location for this event. It was simple. Minimal. Clean. Glamorous. And with the champagne flowing, the chatter filling the room, and the Twin Cities' model brigade circulating in skimpy clothes with their placid expres sions, it was all like one decadent work of moving art. I saw all this. Processed it. But couldn't appreciate it. All I could think about was the perfume. The next time I saw Ivy I was going to make her confess. And then I was going to kick her a.s.s. Enough was enough. "Reed! Congrat ulations! This event is a smash hit!" Susan Llewelyn said, stopping by to double air-kiss me. Susan was one of the few Billings alumnae I actually knew. "Thanks," I said, surprised to see her. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course!" she said, taking a sip of her champagne and tossing her short blond hair back. "Where were you the day the board met to go over our case?" I asked. "We could have used a friend on the other side."

Susan blinked and her ever-present smile briefly faltered. I got the distinct feeling she thought I had just overstepped my bounds. And maybe I had. But didn't I deserve to know?

"The board felt that my presence would be a conflict of interest," she said smoothly. "And to be honest, I thought it might be a good idea for me to lie low, considering my part in the whole Gwendolyn mess." "I see." In other words, she hadn't wanted to be forced to take responsibil ity for telling us how to get off campus--for leading us to the Gwendolyn secret pa.s.sageway in the first place. Suddenly, the level of respect I'd always felt for Suzel dropped a notch. "Oh! I see an old friend! Gotta go!" she said gaily. As she hastily scurried off, I wondered if anyone was ever what they seemed. So far, most of the people I had met at Easton had turned out to have at least two faces. Some many more.

"Champagne?" Marc asked, suddenly arriving at my side.

He pressed the cool flute against my bare shoulder and I smiled. For a November night, it was rather warm in here, and I was happy I had chosen something skimpy from Noelle's col lection. It was a black, halter-style swing dress with subtle pleats that fell a few inches above the knee. "Thanks," I said, smiling as I took the champagne flute from him. "Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?" Marc asked. He looked pretty amazing himself in his rented tux with its long, cocoa brown tie. "You don't have to say that," I told him, downing half the champagne in one gulp. "I know I don't. I wanted to," Marc said with a genuine smile. "Reed. There you are! We've been looking all over for you," Hunter Braden said, appearing before me. He reached out and squeezed my elbow as if he hadn't been the rudest date in history and I hadn't walked out on him. Hunter had gone with a tux and an open-collared shirt, and blond scruff lined his cheeks and chin. Very rogue millionaire. "My mother was dying to meet you. Harper Braden, this is Reed Brennan. She organized this event."

"Mrs. Braden," I said, trying to be warm even though her son basically sucked. "Always a pleasure to meet a Billings alum." Her blue eyes widened, though I wasn't sure how that was possible, considering she looked as if she had just been shot up with ten vials of Botox in the past hour. Her face was a puffy mask, stretched to its limits around full lips and heavily lined eyes. "You know your ancient history!" she exclaimed. "Glad to hear it. It's so good to finally meet you." She shook my hand, unsnapped her vintage clutch purse, and extracted a small envelope, which she discreetly handed to me. "For the cause," she said "Thank you," I replied. Luckily, Cromwell had only said we couldn't accept money from Billings alums for preparations, not for the fund-raising itself. "Good luck tonight. Not that you'll need it," she added; then she looked past me. "Oh! Is that Rinnan Hearst? I must go say h.e.l.lo!" The mention of the familiar name caused my heart to stop.

I whipped around and there was the famous actress Rinnan Hearst, Cheyenne's stepmoth er, standing near the wall holding court with Cheyenne's father. One look at his handsome face, his sad eyes, the mournful lines permanently etched around them, and the room started to spin. "Wow. You really are the woman of the evening," Marc said as a few more people stopped by to congratulate me. People to whom I couldn't even respond. The heavy perfume and sweaty palms a.s.saulted me, and my body temperature skyrocketed. Cheyenne's dad was here. Cheyenne's devastated father. One of the two people who had insisted on reopen ing her case. Memories a.s.saulted me from every angle. Memories of the way he had barely been able to speak to us on the day of her funeral. Of how he'd fallen to his knees when they released her ashes. He had loved her so much. I could only imagine what it must be like for him, standing in a room full of his daughter's friends, knowing that by all rights she should be there too, chatting and laughing and flirting. Was he wondering who among us might have murdered his daughter? Who might have taken his one and only child from him?

"I have to get out of here," I heard myself say. "I need some air." "Reed--" I took one step toward the door and froze. Josh had just walked in. Josh. My savior. My rock. Looking gor geous in his tux with his curls all askew. Just the sight of him made my heart leap. Why was he here? He hated Billings. Had he come for me? To support me? Marc was saying some thing. Had his hand on my wrist as if to calm me. But I couldn't even hear him or feel him or see him. All I saw was Josh. What I wouldn't give to have him back. To feel him hold me. To hear him tell me everything was going to be okay. I felt the longing in my gut, my heart, my skin. So acute it was painful. Suddenly I knew that was what I needed. Not to find someone else to replace him. Not to pick out the perfect specimen to make him jealous. That had all been so petty. So stupid. So vindictive. No. More than anything, I needed him. Josh was all that mattered. He would make it all right.

All I wanted was to hear his voice. "Josh!" I shouted, not caring that half the room could hear me. "Josh!"

He smiled, but not at me. Smiled at someone coming toward him from his left. The crowd shifted and I saw her. Ivy Slade. Dressed in pure, ironic white. Smiling as Josh took her hand. And the walls crashed in around me. "What is she doing here?" I snapped venomously.

"Who?" Marc was thoroughly confused at this point. "After everything she's done..." I was shaking from head to foot from unadulterated anger. How dare she come here tonight? How dare she? "Reed? Who are you talking about?" He followed my gaze and must have spotted Ivy. "Oh. Yeah. That's not good," he said, knowing Ivy was the leader of the anti-Billings brigade. "She. Cannot. Be here." I started forward, my eyes trained on Ivy. I was going to throw her out. I didn't care if she'd paid to get in. She was the enemy. "If I can have your attention, please?" Tiffany said into the microphone on our small, makeshift stage. People started to quiet, to turn. I stayed my course. I was on a mission. "My name is Tiffany Goulbourne, and I'd just like to start out by thanking everyone for coming out tonight." I was ten steps away. Ten steps away from vindication. From revenge. And then, Josh pulled Ivy to him--pulled her whole body into his--ran his hand over her cheek, and leaned in to kiss her like there was no one else in the room. I stopped moving. Stopped breathing. Stopped be ing. Her eyes fluttered closed. He deepened the kiss, his fingertips now resting lightly on her shoulder. So it was true. They were together. I had been so hoping it was all a lie. Some outof-control rumor with a life of its own. So much for hope. My heart took over. Took over my whole body. Pounding and slamming and panicking. Those were my hands. My lips. My finger tips. My tongue. My body. He was mine. Mine, mine, mine.

And yet there he was right in front of me, giving himself to her. "And now I'd like to bring up the person who is responsible for this fabulous event!" Tiffany's voice boomed through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, Reed Brennan!"

AND THE WINNER IS.

I couldn't move. Could not make my limbs bend. Josh and Ivy pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes, their mutual affection blatant, and all I could do was watch. My head swam. The floor heaved beneath my feet. I was going to faint. Actually going to faint. "Reed?

Where are you, Reed? I know you're out there somewhere!" Tiffany chided, earning polite laughter from the crowd. Marc stepped up behind me and nudged my arm. "Reed, you have to go. They're waiting for you." Then Ivy turned and looked up at the stage. She whispered something to Josh and was off, weaving her way with determination through the maze of wait ers and guests and models. Where was she going? But wait, who cared? Josh was alone now. All that mattered was--"Reed! Let's go!" Suddenly the Twin Cities had me by either arm and were walking me toward Tiffany. The moment I moved, my knees gave out and they had to hold me up for a few steps. The people right around us stared, probably thinking I was drunk. But all I could think about was Josh and Ivy. Josh and Ivy. Josh and Ivy. How could he kiss her? How could he look at her like that? And at my event. He was sup posed to love me. How could he ever look at anyone else that way? It wasn't fair. Didn't he know how evil she was? What she was capable of? He couldn't have known. Would never be with her if he did. I had to tell him the truth about her. I had to tell him that I needed him. I needed--"h.e.l.lo, everyone! My name is Ivy Slade and I'm here to tell you all, well, why you're really here." The Twin Cities stopped abruptly and we all gaped up at the stage. Somehow Ivy had gotten the microphone away from Tiffany and was now addressing the rapt crowd. "This is not a fund-raiser for Easton Academy," Ivy said quickly, vehemently. "It's a PR job for Billings House. You remember Billings House. That tall dorm on the edge of campus where lived the most awful girls at the academy?"

There were a few chuckles. The rest of the Billings Girls, who were dotted throughout the room, started to mobilize. Tiffany, who until now had been standing aside looking baffled, reached for the microphone, but Ivy dodged her and slid away.

"You know those girls who always seemed to get away with everything that no one else could get away with? The girls who wielded their power and money over the school as if they were running the place?" Ivy continued, pacing. "Well, guess what? This year they were finally caught. They were finally going to be brought to justice. But shocker of all shockers, they wrangled a deal. If they make five million dollars tonight, their precious house will not be dis solved, as it should have been long ago. See, they're using people again to get what they want. More specifically, they're using you and your hard-earned money to save their own skins. Is that what you want? Haven't the Billings Girls done enough damage already?"

My heart was in my toes. First Josh and now this. I looked wildly around at the esteemed guests and tried to find Josh. Tried to see his reaction to this, to see if he'd known this was coming, but I was unable to focus on any one face. All I could see was a lot of nodding and pinched expressions. All I could hear were knowing whispers. Her words were hitting home. This was working. Her evil plan was working. "Reed! Do something!" Vienna said through her teeth. "You have to get up there. Stop her," London added, letting go of my arm. But I was frozen. My throat was dry. My head a complete fog. "I... I can't. I can't." This was it. This was the beginning of my nervous breakdown. Ivy had won. She had won Josh. She had destroyed Billings. Destroyed me. And I was so shaken, so broken, so crushed, that I couldn't think of a single word to stop her. "For years, the women of Billings have been making our lives a living h.e.l.l," Ivy continued, "but we can end this now. Don't give them your money! Don't support the hypocrisy!"

"OmiG.o.d, enough. Reed! You have to shut her up," Vienna said Then she shoved me for ward so hard I almost tripped into the stairs that led to the stage. Tiffany couldn't have looked more relieved to see me, but Ivy simply smirked. "Oh, look, it's Reed Brennan, president of Billings," she said as she sneered down her nose at me. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm dying to hear what she has to say in her defense." Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to me. I was frozen in terror. "Come on up, Reed! What are you waiting for?" Ivy descended two steps, grabbed my arm, and dragged me up next to her, practically dislocating my shoulder. She shoved the microphone into my hand and stepped back. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I stared out at the crowd, but all I could see were Josh's lips on Ivy's, Cheyenne's dead body on the floor, her name in my in-box ten thousand times over, the note, the black marbles, the perfume bottle, the stain on the sleeve of the pink sweater. All of it. All of it reeled through my mind at a sickening speed. I was so dizzy, so disoriented, so confused, I actually reached for Ivy for support, but she flinched away and I almost went down. "Oops. I think our hostess might be a little buzzed," Ivy shouted, amused. Somehow I righted myself, but the laughter her comment elicited stung every inch of my skin. What was I doing here? Why were all these people looking to me? I didn't belong here. I was n.o.body. I was just a loser from Pennsylvania who had been dumped and stalked and nearly driven out of my mind This was it. This was where it all fell apart. "I'm sorry," I blurted out of nowhere. "I'm sorry, I--" And then a strong hand came down on my shoulder. I sensed it was Noelle before I even saw her. She reached around me, slipped the microphone right out of my hand, and stepped to the front of the stage. "Thank you, Ivy, for the unplanned entertain ment," she began with a smile, coaxing out a few laughs from the crowd. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Noelle Lange, and I am a senior at Easton Academy and at Billings House. I just want to go on the record as saying that almost everything Ivy has just told you... is true."

There were a few gasps and some stunned silence. No one was expecting that. I stepped back and hugged my now freezing-cold arms. Watched her as if I was watching a film, a play-something from which I was completely detached. "Our living arrangements were put in jeop ardy due to some unfortunate incidents earlier this year, true, and it is also true that we asked Headmaster Cromwell for a second chance," Noelle continued. "He agreed that the best way for us to prove our loyalty to Easton would be for us to throw a fund-raiser for the school and so, here we are. Just to clear things up, you should know that any money you donate this evening will be going directly to the Easton Academy board of trustees, to be used at their dis cretion. Billings will have no further involvement with the funds." She glanced at Ivy, who looked angry enough to spit. But she stayed where she was, as if waiting for her next open ing. Not that Noelle was about to give her one. "Now, as for the accusations about the behav ior of the Billings Girls, all I can say is, Ivy is right," Noelle continued. "We have, in the past, used our power and position on campus to get the things we wanted, but all that has changed this year. This year's new house members were chosen by the administration, not by the res idents of Billings. They were chosen for their academic merit, their service to the school, their morals and standards. They are the best of what Easton has to offer."

She looked down at our friends, who had now gathered in front of the stage, like a mother hen looking down at her freshly hatched chicks. "They deserve a chance to make Billings what it should be," Noelle continued. "They shouldn't have to pay for the crimes, whether real or perceived," she said, pointedly looking at Ivy, "of those of us who came before. "They are the new Billings, and the new Billings is about sisterhood, about strength, about doing what's right and putting forth the best image we can for Easton," Noelle continued. "That's where your hard-earned money is going tonight. To building a better Billings, a better Easton, a bet ter future." She paused and looked around the room, driving her message home to each and every member of her audience. "Are you really going to let one misguided party crasher get in the way of all that?" she asked, lifting a blithe hand toward Ivy. The laughter and applause filled the room this time, and we all knew. We all knew that Noelle had won. She handed the microphone to Tiffany, who quickly squirreled it away. Ivy simply stood there, arms crossed in an indignant pose, until she finally shook her head and made her retreat. The cheers were still echoing in my head when Noelle turned to me. There was no way to express the force of grat.i.tude that was surging through my weakened body.

"Noelle, thank you so much," I gushed, a tear spilling down my cheek. "I didn't know what to do. I--" "Well, Gla.s.s-Licker. Looks like I've saved your little fund-raiser twice now," Noelle in terrupted, her eyes flashing. "I guess you were right all along. This is my house." I felt like she had just slapped me across the face. "What?" I gasped. Noelle looked me up and down like I was some pile of dog doo she'd just stepped in, and strode right past me. What was going on? Had she planned this all along? Had she booked the St. Sebastian behind my back? Did she have the makeover and photo shoot plan up her sleeve from the beginning? Sabine was right. Noelle had been working against me. And I had let her in. I had let myself believe she cared about me--that we were friends. But Noelle had no idea what it meant to be a friend. All she cared about was herself. "How could you?" I blurted, whirling around. "How could you do this to me?" Noelle paused and half turned. She had her iPhone in her hand and shook her head, laughing as she looked down at it. "Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing," she spat. She thrust the phone in my face and the entire world screeched to a stop. Me and Dash. Me and Dash in streaming video on the tiny screen. Kissing. Touching. Falling down on a red mattress together. My hands groping for his waistband. His fingers unzipping my dress. It was all there. All of it. My night at the Legacy. She had seen it all.

ON THE OUTSIDE.

Noelle headed for the door, but for the first time all night I knew what I had to do. I had to stop her. I had to make her understand. "Noelle, please! Please, stop. Let me explain!" I chased her down, grabbed her arm. She yanked it away with so much force she almost knocked me off my feet. "This is the Legacy!" she snapped, her hands shaking as she held up the phone. "This is the night Dash and I got back together." I couldn't tear my eyes away from the video. It had been taken from the entrance to the tent. Who had done this? How? Was it Ivy? Was it someone spreading gossip? Why? And why had they sent it to her now?

"Don't you have anything to say, Miss Trust-Me? Miss I-Can't-Lose-You-Too?" Noelle de manded, trembling with anger. "G.o.d, to think I called you my sister!" she spat. "You're nothing but a back-stabbing, lying s.l.u.t!" A few people around us gasped, reminding me that we weren't alone. Reminding me of where we were. "Noelle, I am so, so sorry," I choked out, ap proaching her with tears streaming down my face. "h.e.l.l, yeah, you're sorry," Noelle replied un der her breath, getting as close to me as possible. Clearly she didn't want any members of the audience she had just won over to hear what she had to say. "You're done at Billings, Reed. Done at Easton. You may as well pack your s.h.i.t up and hop the next train back to Cro ton, because you are not going to want to be around to find out what I can do to you."

I looked around, desperate... for what? An ally? Someone to swoop in and save me?

Someone to take my side? Where was Sabine? Where were Constance and Tiffany and Rose? As my eyes searched, I saw that half the people in the vicinity were watching us, while the other half were looking at their phones. Looking and laughing. Gasping. Pointing at me. Whoever had sent the video had sent it not only to Noelle, they had sent it to all of Easton. Scorching humiliation rushed through me, burning me from the inside out. My life was over. I had to get out of here. Now. Stumbling like I was inebriated, I groped my way blearily toward the exit. There were a few people near the door, getting their coats, and they all shied away from me as if I were somehow contagious. I fumbled through my purse for my ticket, grabbed my coat, and turned to go. That was when I spotted Constance, standing in the hallway, talk ing to Marc, their heads bent together. Relief rushed through me. Constance. Yes. She was my friend. She had always been loyal. She would help me now. Listen. Understand. "Con stance, thank G.o.d," I said, walking over to them. "I can't believe this is happening."

When she looked up at me, her face was pale. "I can't believe you did this," she said, her voice weak, her eyes betrayed. "You and Noelle are supposed to be friends. And you and Josh were still together that night, weren't you? How could you do this to him? To them?

What kind of person are you? " "Wh-what?" I gasped. "Reed, I think you should go," Marc told me firmly. "But, Marc, I-" "Seriously, before this gets any uglier than it already has," he said, a look of disgust in his normally kind eyes. They weren't going to forgive me. Two of the kindest people I knew had no interest in hearing my side. That was when I knew for sure that I had no one. It really was over. Just like that. From this moment on I would once again be on the out side, looking in.

Outside, the air was frigid. My tears froze to my face and my skin tightened. My head pounded as if someone was using a sledgehammer to find their way through my skull to my brain. I caught the disturbed glances of a few pa.s.sersby and tried to breathe. I had to focus. Had to figure out my next move. But I couldn't even remember what street I was on. All my things were back in Noelle's room. Where was I going to stay tonight? How would I get back to Easton? A yellow cab pulled up at the curb and out stepped Dash McCafferty. I stared at him like he was some kind of mirage as he paid the driver and turned around. He wore a black coat over his tux, making him appear even broader than usual, and his hands were en sconced in black leather gloves. It took a moment for him to see me, but when he did, he hus tled right over.

"Reed, what are you doing out here?" he asked, glancing past me at the door. "I'm so sor ry I'm late. There was this whole thing with my sister and her husband and..." He finally looked at my face. "c.r.a.p. Is Noelle really p.i.s.sed?" , Um, there was the understatement of the millennium. "Dash, she knows," I said shakily. A shadow crossed his face, and I was certain he understood me completely. Yet he asked, "Knows what?"

"About us. About the Legacy," I said, my voice growing louder and shriller with each word.

"They all know." I threw my hand out toward the door. "Someone videotaped it and just sent it to the entire student body." "What?" He looked at the door again, his face growing ashen. He started to compulsively grip his hands together. He was contemplating whether or not to go in side. I could tell. Did he want to face Noelle and her wrath, or would she be even more furious if he never showed? I almost felt sorry for him, having to face such a dilemma. "I can't believe this is happening," I heard myself say. "Come on." He turned and took my upper arm in his hand, his grip firm and steadying. "I'm going to get you home." The words were like music to my ears. Someone was on my side. Someone was willing to help me. But it was the wrong someone. The only someone whose help I could not accept. It took every ounce of willpower left in my wrecked body to pull away from his comforting warmth.

"No. You can't. I can't be seen with you. Especially not now," I said. "You'd better just go. If anyone sees us out here talking like this, it'll just make things worse." Dash's jaw clenched. He so wanted to do the chivalrous thing, I knew. That was who he was. "Reed, I'm so sorry,"

he said quickly, quietly. "Did you get my e-mail? You never responded." His e-mail. Right. For the first time in days I wondered what he had said. But then the door behind him opened and out poured a few familiar people from school, all laughing and carefree. "You have to go, Dash. Please," I begged. Dash glanced at the Easton crowd and rolled his shoulders back.

"You're sure you're okay?" "Yes. Just go." Reluctantly, he turned. My heart panged at the sight of his back, knowing I was letting one of my last friends leave. "And Dash?" I said. He paused. "Good luck. With her, I mean," I said. His jaw clenched as he turned his head slightly so that I could see his profile. "You too."

He ducked his head and hurried off down the sidewalk. A stiff wind nearly blew me over and I lifted the collar of my jacket. I should have taken Dash's cab. Not that I would have known how to pay for it. I'd left my cash back at Easton, thinking I'd have no use for it this weekend. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Guess now you know how it feels." My blood curdled at the sound of Ivy's voice. I turned around and found her standing behind me, bundled into a puffy white fur jacket. G.o.d, I could have strangled her. Could have just taken out everything on that skinny neck of hers.

"How what feels?" I said through my teeth. "The dark side of Billings," she said with a knowing smile. Slowly, she walked toward me, her high heels crunching on the sidewalk. "I know you've been asking around about me. Ever heard of the saying 'Curiosity killed the cat'?" Suddenly a rush of realization warmed my face. Ivy had taken that video. I knew now for sure. She hadn't wanted me to attend the Legacy, had been p.i.s.sed when I'd let her know I was there. This was her revenge. It had to be. It had to have been her. Her light blue eyes, so much like Ariana's, bored into mine and I was chilled to the core. What else was this girl capa ble of? And why did the city street suddenly seem so very deserted?

"You want to know about me and Billings, Reed? Fine. I'll tell you about me and Billings,"

she said, placing her hands in her pockets. "Back when we were soph.o.m.ores, Cheyenne and I were best friends, had been since we were little--but you knew that already, didn't you?

Snoop that you are." My teeth clenched. I wanted to call her out so badly. How dare she act like my snooping was so offensive when she'd been in my room half a dozen times? When she'd been stalking me, torturing me, making me feel trapped in my own dorm. But I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to hear this. Had to hear this. "She knew she was getting into Billings as a legacy, and even though I couldn't have cared less, when I got my invite she told me I had to join. We would room together, be Billings Girls together. She was so excited about it I couldn't say no." Ivy wandered over to an evergreen tree in a planter in front of the building and reached out to toy with its needles.

"So I went through their stupid hazing rituals for her, stole tests and snuck into the guys'

dorms and all that c.r.a.p, all for her," she continued, her eyes losing focus as she stared at the tree. "Back then one of their tasks was to break into a house and steal a pre-selected artifact. Cheyenne was a legacy, so they gave her an easy task--go to her own house in Litchfield and bring back Rinnan's Golden Globe. Simple. So we did it. All the soph.o.m.ores together. Me and Cheyenne, Rose, Portia, Taylor, Kiran, et cetera, et cetera. We basically walked right in through the front door and when we came out the juniors and seniors were waiting to congrat ulate us. But my task wasn't so simple." She looked at me then. "My task was to break into my grandmother's house with its state-of-the-art security system and steal a family heirloom. To this day I don't know how they knew about that stupid box, but that was what they want ed."

So it had been a Billings test. That story I'd found had all been the result of hazing. "Were they trying to keep you out?" I heard myself ask, before I even realized I was going to speak. But I had to know. It was, after all, what Cheyenne had tried to do to Sabine, Constance, and Lorna earlier this year. "I don't think so," she conceded. "They didn't know about the security. But I knew it was going to be impossible and I told Cheyenne that. But she wouldn't let me back out. Billings was too important. So we did it. We broke in. And even though I tried to plan it carefully, we tripped an alarm." She snorted derisively. "That place was like Fort Knox. My father had insisted on it, since my grandmother had insisted on living alone. I was in my grand mother's room when the alarm went off. Had that stupid box in my hand and everything when she woke up terrified and keeled over onto the floor, right at my feet." She had s.p.a.ced again, looking off into the distance. "All my supposed sisters came in and tried to drag me out of there, but at that point I was on the floor trying to help my grandmoth er," she continued. "They were all panicked, so one by one they all fled. Then suddenly Noelle and Ariana were there, and Ariana was telling me we had to go. The cops were coming. That we were screwed if we stayed. And Cheyenne was behind them bawling, begging me to go with them. But what was I supposed to do? Leave my grandmother alone there to die? When it was my fault?" Ivy's eyes shone with unshed tears and she glared at me as if I had been there too. As if I had been playing Ariana's role, telling her to save her own skin. To save Billings instead of her grandmother. "Noelle kept telling me that my grandmother would be fine. That the police were already on their way and that they would take care of her. Like she cared," Ivy said with a scoff. "But I knew better. I knew she didn't care about anyone but her self. So I told her to go. To get the h.e.l.l out and leave me there with my grandma. And you know what? That's exactly what she and the others did. Even Cheyenne."

"She did care," I said flatly, automatically defending Noelle. "She was trying to make sure you didn't get in trouble on top of everything else. It wasn't just about saving herself." "She re ally has you under her thumb, doesn't she?" Ivy said with an almost sad smirk. "Did you even hear what I just said? They left me there. Alone. To potentially watch my grandmother die. Cheyenne even grabbed the silver jewelry box they wanted me to get. It was all about com pleting the task. All about impressing Billings." I had a sudden flash in my mind of that box I had found in Cheyenne's room. The silver box with the engraving on the top of the initials V.M.S. That must have been the box. Ivy's family heirloom. S for Slade. Cheyenne had actual ly kept it all this time. How had she lived with that thing in her sight? How had the guilt of what she'd done to her best friend not torn her apart?

"So I was the only one who got arrested that night, though my father had the charges dropped later," Ivy continued, standing up straight and facing me again. "And last year I went to school in Boston so I could help care for my grandmother, but she was never the same again. The whole family was relieved when she finally pa.s.sed on this summer, saying she had gone to a better place, but at the funeral no one could even look at me. They all blame me, and they should. It's my fault she's gone. Billings's fault." In spite of myself my heart actu ally went out to her right then. I couldn't imagine the pain of what she'd been through. How it must have felt to know what she had done. How awful. How incredibly awful.

"So that, Reed, is why I hate Billings. Why I hate Ariana. Why I hated Cheyenne. Why I still hate Noelle," she said, stepping closer to me, getting right in my face. "Ariana, she made her own bed, but Noelle... Noelle is still there. Still walking around like she's G.o.d's gift, lording her power over everyone. But I know what she really is. What she's capable of. That's why I'll do anything to see the ivory tower fall. Anything." A blast of cold shot through me, even though the air was now still. Any sympathy I'd felt for her a second ago was blown away. Ivy had killed Cheyenne. Cheyenne's parents were right. Their daughter hadn't committed sui cide. She had been murdered. By her former best friend. Suddenly, it all made sense. I al ready knew Ivy had figured out a way to get into Billings, since she'd been torturing me for weeks. She must have sneaked in that night and somehow orchestrated Cheyenne's suicide in order to get back at her for choosing Billings over her, for leaving her there all alone with her ailing grandmother. Then Ivy had decided to release her venom on me--the house's other leader, the new symbol of Billings. She hated us. Hated all of us. And if that look in her eye was any indication, she was capable of murder.

And now she had singled out Noelle. What did that mean? Was Noelle her next victim?

Was that how she was going to make the so-called ivory tower fall? The door behind Ivy opened and Josh stepped through, b.u.t.toning up the last b.u.t.ton on his coat. He glanced at me quickly, but then looked away, as if it pained him to look me in the eye. "There you are," he said, slipping his hand into Ivy's. "You ready to get out of here?" I stared at their entwined fin gers. He was holding the hand of a murderer. My Josh. My love. Holding hands with evil. Ivy looked at me triumphantly, smiled, and said, "Definitely." Josh shot me one last look as they turned to go, but in my state of miserable panic, I couldn't read it. Was he disappointed? An gry? Sad? Indifferent? I had no idea. All I knew was that I had to get him away from her. I had to save him. But how? I opened my mouth to speak, to shout some kind of warning, but they were already ten paces away, and before I could get a word out, Ivy turned her head and looked back at me. She looked back at me with a flicker in her eye that stopped me dead. A look that scared me so badly it took the breath right out of me. And then they turned at the cor ner and were gone. Traffic whizzed by me on the avenue and a cold rain started to fall. Josh was gone. Dash was gone. There was no one left. No one to tell what I now knew about Ivy. No one to help me figure out what to do. I was in this alone.

end.