Part 5 (2/2)

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 rus.h.i.+ng 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, 'fas.h.i.+on 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 friends.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+fted 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 Scholars.h.i.+p 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 scholars.h.i.+p? ”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 fas.h.i.+on 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 friends.h.i.+p, 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 pus.h.i.+ng 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 astonis.h.i.+ng. 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.

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