Part 3 (1/2)

SO MUCH FOR THAT.

Sunday morning dawned crisp and cold. So cold that I had to huddle close to Noelle, Con stance, Vienna, and London as we hurried across the leaf-strewn campus toward the dining hall. As the wind whipped my hair back from my face, I burrowed my chin into my scarf and wished I had thought to bring my wool hat. All I wanted to do was get inside again as quickly as possible. All my friends wanted to do was talk about my date. ”I can't believe you walked out on Hunter Braden,” Vienna said, clutching London's arm in her shearling coat. ”No one walks out on Hunter Braden.” ”Reed Brennan does,” Noelle said, sounding proud. ”I'm sorry. He's just... not my type,” I told them, my words m.u.f.fled by my scarf. I wriggled my chin out and ducked it over the woolly fabric. ”He's everyone's type,” London replied. ”Until you talk to him,” I told her. ”Just trust me. It was the most boring night of my life.”London and Vienna looked at each other and rolled their eyes. ”Fine. We'll go to the next candidate,” London said, whipping the printed F.Y.R. list out of her pocket. The wind almost made off with it, but she managed to keep it clutched in her gloves. ”But if Hunter Braden is boring, I don't really know who's going to satisfy you,” she added under her breath. ”Who's next?” Constance asked, try ing to see over London's shoulder as we walked.

”Dominic Infante. Portia's pick,” London replied. ”Actually, I think I'm going to ask out Marc Alberro,” I told them. ”You are?” Constance's face lit up. ”Who?” London blurted, looking con fused. ”Number fifteen,” Vienna informed her, pointing. ”Reed, come on. He's, like, a scholar s.h.i.+p student.” Noelle snorted a laugh at the faux pas. I stopped in my tracks just outside the door to the dining hall and they all stopped as well. I stared down the blank-faced Twin Cities until they remembered who they were talking to--another scholars.h.i.+p student. ”Oh! Right!” Vi enna said finally, blus.h.i.+ng. ”But this is different. I mean, he's a Dreck.” Dreck was the not-sopositive nickname the Billings Girls had for residents of Drake Hall, the uppercla.s.sman dorm where the ”unsavory” boys lived.

”Plus he's president of the Purity Club,” London said with a shudder, sticking her tongue out like she'd just swallowed a bug. ”Easton has a Purity Club?” I asked, shocked. ”Oh, it's, like, really small,” Vienna clarified. Interesting. I couldn't imagine anyone at this particularly h.o.r.n.y school wanting to remain pure, let alone advertise the fact. Marc Alberro was looking better and better. A smart, funny, cute boy with no delusions of grandeur who was not out for s.e.x? Count me in. ”I'm asking him out,” I said, whipping open the door and striding into the warm, hustle-bustle of the dining hall. ”Yay!” Constance cheered. The Twin Cities protested under their breath, but I pretended not to hear. I'd done it their way. Now it was time to try it my way. I unb.u.t.toned my coat as I walked over to the Billings tables, feeling confident in my decision. Feeling, in fact, better than I had in days. But the feeling was short-lived. Halfway across the cafeteria I noticed people whispering. Eyeing me warily. Glancing away quickly when I looked in their direction. An eerie sense of deja vu settled in around my shoulders. The vibe in the room was way too familiar. It felt exactly like it had after Thomas's body had been found.

I gulped for air. Cheyenne. Had Easton somehow found out about the murder investiga tion? ”What's up with the morgue vibe?” Noelle asked, flinging her coat over the back of her chair. The Billings Girls who were already seated with their meals--Sabine, Tiff, Rose, Kiki, Astrid, and others--all exchanged nervous looks. Like there was something they didn't want to tell us. Then Amberly Carmichael scurried over with her two sentries in tow. She grabbed my forearm with one hand and Noelle's with the other. ”You guys, I just want you to know, I don't believe a word of it,” she said, her eyes wide and earnest.

”A word of what?” I asked, removing her hand from my arm. At that moment Missy arrived, dropped her tray on the next table, and turned around, her arms crossed under her sizable chest. ”You guys should know that everyone's talking about how you conspired to murder Cheyenne,” she said bluntly, looking at me and Noelle. I grabbed onto the back of the nearest chair to steady myself. ”What?” Noelle blurted, loud enough that most of the conversation in the airy room screeched to a halt. ”Like I said. Not a word,” Amberly repeated. Like it was so important to us that she trusted us. Please. My life was flas.h.i.+ng before my eyes over here.

”No one believes a word of it, right, girls? It's crazy talk,” Tiffany said, looking around the ta ble. Everyone murmured their agreement. ”I don't understand. How did this whole thing get started?” Noelle asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Everyone at the Billings tables looked around at everyone else. Again, no one wanted to answer. Finally Missy stepped closer to us and lowered her voice. There's a rumor going around that the police questioned someone from school last night,” she said. ”That they're go ing to reinvestigate Cheyenne's death.” What? How could anyone know that? ”Now every one's saying that you got Reed to off Cheyenne so that there would be a vacancy in Billings,”

Missy added. Noelle scoffed. ”Total fiction. Honestly. Who comes up with this c.r.a.p?” ”Exact ly,” Portia added as all our friends nodded and murmured their agreement.

”Everyone's just jealous of you guys. That's why they want to tear you down,” Vienna said sagely. ”It's always lonely at the top,” Shelby agreed. ”Too true,” Noelle said. She looked around the room, taking in the silence and the stares. ”Well, this is unacceptable.” She stepped out into the center of the aisle and shook her head incredulously. ”So, you all think Reed and I pulled off a murderous coup at Billings, huh? Do you even hear how ridiculous that sounds?” she announced in a loud voice. ”Who would kill someone for a spot in a dorm?

Even if it is Billings? Are you guys that hard up for scandal that you're going to believe some thing like that? I thought that only smart people were admitted to Easton.”

There was laughter all around. Her announcement had the desired effect. People went back to their food, and I even caught a few of them rolling their eyes like it really was ridiculous. Rumor squelched, just like that. d.a.m.n, this girl had power. I wondered if everyone would have believed me if I had said the same thing, but now I'd never get the chance to find out. ”See? I told you,” Amberly said to her cohorts before ushering them away. ”You do have to admit, the timing was a tad suspect,” Missy said casually. ”Cheyenne dies and you show up the following week. And after everything that happened last year, people around here think you guys are capable of pretty much anything. You can't really blame them for being suspi cious.” ”You're going to want to stop talking now,” Noelle snapped. Missy did, and took her seat at the next table. She tried and failed to hide a smile behind a cough. The girl was loving every minute of this.

”So who was this mysterious person? Who did the police bring in for questioning?” Sabine wondered aloud, her expression concerned as I slowly unb.u.t.toned my coat. ”Please. It prob ably didn't even happen,” I said, forcing a laugh. ”Someone probably made the whole thing up from start to finish.” I glanced up at Noelle as I said this, figuring she'd chuckle and agree with me, but instead her eyes were flat as she stared back at me. My heart all but stopped. She knew. She knew it had been me. She knew I was lying. How did she do that? ”Yeah. Prob ably,” Noelle said calmly. I glanced around at the rest of my friends, feeling suddenly nervous and snagged, but I could tell that Noelle was the one person at the Billings tables who saw through me. The only one who understood that I knew more than I was letting on. And sooner or later, she was going to want to know the truth.

CONTROL.

How much could one person handle before totally losing it? This was a question, among many others, that started to plague me after the scene in the dining hall. Not only had I just broken up with my boyfriend, but now he was quite possibly smooching some girl who was a liar with a criminal record and who just generally gave me the creeps. I was hiding the fact that the cause of our breakup was me hooking up with my best friend's boyfriend--though I still didn't know if he was her boyfriend at the time. Meanwhile, someone was planting a dead girl's stuff in my room for sport, and said dead girl might or might not have been murdered. Oh, yeah, and soon the ultra-exclusive dorm of which I was president might be closed down-a travesty for which I would be blamed for all eternity. Yeah. That wasn't too much to deal with. And I also had cla.s.ses and calls home to my par ents and a rivalry between Sabine and Noelle and my friends forcing me to date random boys. Public school was starting to look not so bad.

Monday morning I decided that the best thing to do would be to focus on the stuff that I could actually control. Stuff like the fundraiser. So after lunch I went directly to the Crom's of fice. His a.s.sistant, Ms. Lewis, was on the phone when I walked in, looking harried. I waited quietly in front of her desk, thinking of our bizarrely intimate encounters last year, back when she used to be Ms. Lewis-Hanneman. Before her husband had found out she was having an affair with Thomas Pearson's brother Blake. I had been the one person she had confessed ev erything to. The only person she had managed to trust. It was so strange to think of it now. Finally she hung up the phone and sighed. She pushed her hornrimmed gla.s.ses up on her nose and smoothed her blond hair back toward her bun, then pulled her chair closer to her desk. ”What can I do for you, Miss Brennan?” ”I was hoping to see the headmaster,” I said. She glanced at her phone. One red light was blinking. ”He's on his line right now. I can leave him a message.” ”I have a few minutes. I can wait,” I told her. ”Super,” she replied sarcastical ly. The phone rang again and she quickly answered it. As soon as she hung up, she typed a few words into her computer and yanked a file out of a drawer. She seemed irritated and busy, but while I was there, I did have some business with her as well. ”Ms. Lewis?” I said ten tatively. ”Yes?”

She didn't look up as she flipped through some papers in the file. ”I was wondering if you could do me a small favor,” I said. ”In all my spare time?” she said. I laughed quickly for her benefit. ”If you get a minute, I mean. I need a list of all the Easton alumni under the age of six ty-five along with their addresses and e-mails.” Ms. Lewis stopped what she was doing and looked up at me like I'd just asked her to put an end to world hunger. ”Come on,” I wheedled.

”For old times' sake?” Her glossy lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. ”Fine.” She grabbed a pen and started to make a note on a Post-it, but there was no ink left. ”Nothing is easy today,” she said, flinging the pen down and yanking open another drawer. A lockbox slammed forward as she did so. It was labeled--in old, chipped paint--dorm keys. Suddenly a lump rose from my chest area into my throat. ”You have keys to all the dorms?” I asked, my blood running cold. Ms. Lewis quickly slammed the drawer. ”Yes. I have to have them so I can make copies when you oh-so-responsible students lose them. Like your friend Kiki did last week.”

She gestured at a gray machine atop a filing cabinet behind her. A maker of keys. ”And that's where you keep them? In an unlocked drawer in your desk?” She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. ”The lockbox is locked,” she said impatiently. ”Hence the term lockbox. ”

As she quickly made a note to put together the list I'd asked for, my mind started to roam free. Keys to all the dorms. Right here where anyone could get to them. It wouldn't be that hard, if someone was determined. Dash and I had, after all, broken into this very office last year to use Ms. Lewis's computer. Whoever was messing with me could have easily broken in and stolen the Billings key. Could even have made a copy if they figured out how to work that ma chine. Anyone could have the key to Billings. Anyone.

”He's off the phone,” Ms. Lewis announced, getting up. I cleared my throat and attempted to, at the same time, clear my brain. I had to focus now. Cromwell. The pa.s.ses. I could deal with this new discovery later. Ms. Lewis straightened her skirt and strode over to the double door that connected her office to the headmaster's. ”Reed Brennan to see you, Headmaster,”

she said as she opened the door. ”What can I do for you, Miss Brennan?” Cromwell asked, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper laid out on his sizable desk. Ms. Lewis left the two of us alone and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. His office was blazing hot, as always, thanks to a roaring fire in the ancient fireplace on the far side of the room. The win dows were all shut tight, and there was little if any air to be had. How could the man possibly work like this? Had he only recently escaped from h.e.l.l?

”I'm here to request off-campus pa.s.ses for this weekend for myself and four fellow stu dents,” I told him, hoping that maintaining a formal tone would somehow impress him. I tugged at the collar of my sweater in an attempt to get some air to my skin. It didn't work. ”We want to go to New York to finalize plans for our fund-raiser.”

”Miss Lange has already applied for, and secured, four pa.s.ses for this trip,” he said, lan guidly turning the page. I hesitated. Noelle had already been here? When? And why would she apply for only four when we had already discussed the fact that we needed five? She was trying to keep Sabine out. Of course she was. How could she have gone behind my back and-”Was there anything else?” Cromwell asked, still reading. Okay, focus. Sabine and Noelle were not the issue right now. ”Yes, sir, I'd like one more pa.s.s,” I said firmly. Headmaster Cromwell took a deep breath. He looked at his glowing computer screen and hit a few but tons. ”Miss Lange has secured pa.s.ses for you, Miss Simmons, Miss Clarke, and herself. Why, might I ask, are the four of you not enough? Are you in need of someone to carry your bags? ” He looked at me for the first time, a wry smile on his tight lips.

”No, sir,” I said patiently. ”But we'd like to bring Sabine DuLac with us.” ”And why should I let Miss DuLac accompany you?” he asked. ”Because she--” Okay. ”She wants to see New York” wasn't going to fly here. There had to be a plausible reason for Sabine to be in on this trip. Cromwell raised his eyebrows at my hesitation and I noticed the huge globe on its pedestal behind his desk. Epiphany. ”Because Sabine will bring in a lot of international donations,” I improvised. ”Her family has friends and acquaintances all over the globe. She would be a true a.s.set to the planning committee.” I clasped my sweaty hands together behind my back and prayed my lie would do the trick. Money talked. And international money was still money.

”Fine,” Cromwell said finally. ”Five pa.s.ses it is. You can come and pick them up on Friday af ternoon.” Yes! ”Thank you, sir. You won't regret this,” I said. ”I do hope this project of yours is a success,” he said with so little sincerity he was practically transparent. ”And we very much appreciate your support,” I replied sarcastically. Then I turned and walked out of his oven like office before my tone had a chance to sink in, and he had a chance to change his mind.

MOOD SWING.

It was unbelievable, the lengths Noelle would go to in order to get what she wanted. I knew she didn't like Sabine, but did she hate her so much she couldn't deal with her for one lousy weekend? That seemed so petty. And so beneath Noelle. Couldn't she let me have just one little thing? Couldn't she keep herself from trying to control every aspect of life in Billings?

Well, Noelle clearly didn't realize who she was dealing with. I loved the girl, but she had to get used to the fact that she wasn't the only person living in Billings. Things couldn't always be the way she wanted them to be. She had been gone all spring and part of the fall. Did she re ally think that in all that time, nothing would have changed? There was already someone at Easton working against me with all this Cheyenne c.r.a.p--which made my knees jellify every time I thought about it. I didn't need my best friend working against me too. I shoved through the front door of h.e.l.l Hall and jogged down the steps, feeling triumphant and clear for the first time as the cold air hit my face. I was going to have a talk with Noelle. She couldn't go behind my back and change things up on me. I was president of Billings. She was just going to have to get used to it. I was so focused as I strode across the rapidly darkening campus, I barely noticed Marc sitting on one of the benches in the quad until I was right on top of him. ”Reed, hi,” he said, looking up from his French book. ”Marc! Hey,” I said, pausing. The wind tossed my hair in front of my face and I tossed it back with a smile. I hadn't seen Marc since I had made the decision to b.u.mp him up from number fifteen to number three on the F.Y.R. list. Now I felt as if he'd been placed in my path at the perfect moment. Not only was I high on adrenaline, but I was in definite need of a distraction.

”I'm just studying for a French test,” he said. Pointing out the obvious again. ”That's good,”

I replied. ”What're you up to?” he asked, standing. He was a couple of inches shorter than me, but still beyond cute with his dark hair and light eyes. He wore a gray wool coat with tog gle b.u.t.tons over a burgundy sweater and jeans. Unlike the Ketlar boys, he was not too cool to realize it was freezing out and that he could do something about it. ”Have you thought more about the interview? Because I'd really love to get your thoughts on--” ”Actually, yeah. Let's do that. Let's set up a time to do the interview,” I replied, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder and tucking my hands underneath my arms to ward off the cold. ”How's Wednesday afternoon? Soccer's over, so I'm free.” Marc whipped out a BlackBerry to check his schedule, all business like. His brows knit as he checked it over. ”Wednesday should work. Do you want to--” ”I'll meet you at Coffee Carma at four,” I told him, feeling very in charge. ”Four it is,” he replied. ”Good. It's a date,” I said. Marc blushed and grinned. It was a nice grin. Real. Not at all smug. ”It's a date,” he repeated. ”See you then!” I turned and walked determinedly toward Billings. I'd dealt with Cromwell and the New York trip, I'd made my next F.Y.R. move. So far, so good. I was taking charge of my life. But as the dorm loomed before me, I started to feel a bit short of breath. Almost dizzy. Almost like I didn't want to go inside. What if there was something new and unexplained in my room? A few days had gone by since the discovery of Cheyenne's clothing, but rather than making me feel safer, the pa.s.sing time was making me more paranoid. Who was planting that stuff ? What would they do next?

And when? When would I open another door or drawer and find some other Cheyenne-related artifact that would knock the wind out of me all over again? All my Noelle-in spired adrenaline started to wane and my steps slowed. I didn't want to go in there. Didn't want to know what was waiting for me. Billings, the only place that had felt like home in the past year and a half, had changed. All because one of my schoolmates had a very sick, cruel sense of humor. Why would someone want to do this to me? Did I really have such an enemy on campus? What had I done to deserve this?

I paused outside the door and leaned back against it. What if it was someone inside Billings? What if it was more than one person? What if everyone knew what was going on and they were all laughing at me behind my back. What if-No. Stop. This was my dorm. I was not going to be intimidated. I was not going to be afraid to walk through the door. These were my friends. They wouldn't do this to me. And whatever my mystery stalker wanted to throw at me next, I would just deal with it. Like I'd dealt with Cromwell. I'd deal with it like I knew I could. And whoever was doing this to me would be sorry. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and strode inside.

Everyone was gathered in the parlor. For a fleeting moment I considered just going in there and asking if any of them was behind the black marbles and the clothing, and maybe even how that picture of Cheyenne and me had made it out of my desk drawer and onto my bulletin board a few weeks back--which I was starting to think was part of all this. Or if any of them was helping someone on the outside. Just call them out. But then I realized that reveal ing what was going on to the general Billings population would be a mistake. It would make me look weak. It would bring up questions about why I was the only one being targeted. I would have to tell them about the e-mail. About my guilt. And I was not about to do that. No, I was just going to have to figure this out on my own. Once the fund raiser was over. Once everything started to normalize again. Then I would deal with my tormentor. Decision made, I walked over to the parlor door and instantly my blood started to boil. Noelle was stand ing in front of the fireplace, addressing a rapt audience of Billings Girls. Clearly, this was a for mal meeting and clearly, Noelle was in charge. ”So if your parents want to fly in anyone from the West Coast, let me know by Friday. Daddy's going to let us use his jet for one cross-conti nental run, so we'll need to make sure everyone knows where to be and when,” Noelle was saying. A few people made a note of this and Noelle glanced at the next item on her agenda. She had an agenda. ”Okay, now--” ”What's going on?” I said loudly, announcing my presence to the room. Everyone turned around. My irritation must have been evident, because many of them looked quickly, guiltily away.

”Reed! Good. There you are. We were just going over some of the details for the fund-rais er,” Noelle said, unfazed. ”I went to Cromwell about the off-campus pa.s.ses and he said four is the limit, so we're back to the original plan.” She turned to Sabine and shrugged. ”Sorry, Frenchie. You're out.” Sabine's face fell, which made me want to scream. Or hit something. Possibly Noelle. ”Actually, I just talked to Cromwell and secured the extra pa.s.s,” I said point edly, my skin burning with barely suppressed ire. ”So Sabine, you're still in.” Everyone looked from me to Noelle, as if we were volleying in a tennis match. Noelle's lips screwed up in some thing that vaguely resembled a smile. ”Well. I guess your powers of persuasion are improv ing.” All the faces swiveled to me. ”Yeah. I guess they are,” I replied. Silence. I had silenced Noelle. Cool. I walked into the room, dropping my bag and coat on the window seat, and joined Noelle up front. ”So, has anyone had any new ideas about the theme?” I asked. Everyone looked at everyone else. There was so much tension in the room, I was sur prised any of us could breathe. ”Reed, can I talk to you for a second?” Noelle said through her teeth, but maintaining a sunny tone. ”Alone?” ”Sure,” I replied, just as sunnily. ”Why don't you guys brainstorm while we're gone? Constance, would you take notes?” As Noelle followed me out of the room, I knew there would be no talk of the fund-raiser. All they were going to talk about was me and Noelle, and take bets on who might throw the first b.i.t.c.h slap.

THE TRUTH.

I led Noelle right into my room and whirled on her the moment she closed the door behind us. I was so full of pent-up emotion that I was able to shove my fear of being there all the way to the back of my mind. ”What the h.e.l.l was that? You're calling meetings behind my back now?” I demanded. G.o.d, it felt good to yell. It felt like all the confusion and stress were pour ing right out of me. ”This is not about the fund-raiser. Screw the fund-raiser,” Noelle replied, stepping toward me. ”This is about Cheyenne.” Instantly, my ballooned-up ego deflated to nothing. Determination, gone. Anger, gone. I glanced at my closed closet door. ”What about Cheyenne?” I asked quietly. ”I'm only going to ask you this once, Reed,” Noelle said, crossing her arms over her chest. ”Did you have anything to do with Cheyenne's death?” My heart dropped through my body so quickly I felt faint. ”What?” I breathed.

”I need to know the truth. I'm not going to go through what I went through last year,” Noelle said coolly. ”Not again.” I turned away from her accusing eyes, my mind reeling. I couldn't fo cus on anything, and the details of my room seemed to circle in front of me. The window, the desk, the photo of me and Scott, my bedspread, my lamp, the window, the desk--everything swirled. ”You can't really think... you can't really think that I could do something like that.”