Part 6 (1/2)

”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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+rt, 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. ”Jos.h.!.+” I shouted, not caring that half the room could hear me. ”Jos.h.!.+”

He smiled, but not at me. Smiled at someone coming toward him from his left. The crowd s.h.i.+fted 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, makes.h.i.+ft 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!”