Scandal (7 page)

“You are!” She sat down again with a smile, shaking her head. “Listen to you. You sound like Anne of Green Gables or something.”

“That was one of my favorite books as a kid,” I conceded, toying with one of the pens. I used to fantasize about being whisked away from my family and adopted by stern-but-kind Marilla Cuthbert and sweet old Thomas. Anne’s life might have been a bit of a struggle—especially before she went to the Island—but it was a freaking cakewalk compared to having a drug-addicted mother with violent mood swings and a penchant for guilt trips.

Thank God she was better now.

“I was more into Stephen King,” Ivy replied.

I narrowed my eyes. “That explains a
lot.”

“Shut up, Anne Shirley.” Ivy laughed and tossed the pen at me.

My phone beeped with a text.

Upton: Sorry for the delay. Math not my forte. Is approx 515 days. NOW will u tell me what ur wearing?

“What’s with the blush?” Ivy asked, angling to see the phone. “Is it a
boy?” she teased.

“Kind of,” I said. “Well, yeah, he’s a boy. I met him in St. Barths. When I wasn’t, you know—”

“Left for dead on a deserted island?” she said, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah. His name’s Upton.” I sighed, my heart feeling suddenly heavy as I looked down at the text.

Ivy twirled her pen between two fingers. “What’s wrong?”

I leaned back on my hands, my phone in my lap. “It’s just … it was fun while it lasted and everything, but he’s in England and I’m here. … I think it was more of a transitional thing. But I really like him and we said that if neither one of us had a boyfriend or girlfriend by spring break, we’d go to Italy.”

“Italy? Damn, girl,” Ivy said, impressed. “The only place Josh has taken me is the house on the Cape.”

Instantly, my throat crowded with jealousy. What was wrong with me? Here I was showing off about my amazing semiboyfriend and I still wanted
hers.
How selfish could I be? I picked up the phone again, hit the reply button and texted back.

Gray shorts and Easton T. Sorry it’s not sexier. But it is hot in here, if that helps. :)

His reply came in seconds.

You = sexy in anything.

I smiled. Even thousands of miles away, Upton was good for the self-esteem.

“Got any pictures?” Ivy asked.

I scrolled to a photo of Upton I’d taken on the beach the day before we’d left the island. He looked insanely hot in plaid madras shorts with no shirt, the ring on his necklace glinting in the sunlight, his light brown hair tousled with ocean water. Ivy whistled.

“Okay. Next Christmas I’m going to St. Barths,” she joked.

“Well, you can tell everyone I said hi, because I’m never going back there again.” I powered my phone down and set it on my bed behind me.

Ivy looked up at me tentatively through her lashes, tapping her palm with the end of her pen. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “What happened on that island, I mean. It must have been so freaking scary.”

A huge rock settled in the center of my chest as the memories of the ordeal came back to me rapid-fire. “Not really,” I said, neatening the pile of finished invites, my fingers suddenly trembling. “I’d rather just forget it ever happened, honestly. But thanks for asking.”

“I understand,” she said. “I didn’t want to talk about the shooting for a while either.” She leaned forward across her legs, reaching for one of the blank envelopes, then suddenly winced and fell back again. Her hand, still holding the pen, hovered over her stomach. Hot white guilt flooded my veins.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need something?”

“No. I’m good,” she said, then laughed. “So much for not talking about it.”

“Yeah,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t be awkward. I handed her the envelope she’d been reaching for. My throat was so tight I could hardly breathe. “Okay,” I said, looking Ivy in the eye. “Eleven members it is.”

“Yeah?” she asked, taking a deep, faltering breath.

I felt another surge of guilt and nodded.

“Yeah. There must have been some reason Elizabeth Williams chose that number,” I said, looking over at the book, which sat atop my desk. “I may never know what it was, but it was important to her. And it’s important to you, too.”

Ivy looked at me and smiled, blushing. “Okay, Anne Shirley.”

“If you keep calling me that,
you’re
not going to get tapped,” I told her.

Ivy raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m done. Now let’s write these things up already. My butt’s starting to go numb.”

“Right. Let’s do this,” I said, resting another blank invitation atop my chemistry book.

Carefully I started to write out Noelle’s name.

Miss Noelle Lange

The honor of your presence is requested.

9:35 p.m. Friday night

Hull Hall

The basement

Enter by the south side window. Come alone.

Yours in sisterhood,

BLS

When I finished filling out the information, I held it up to check my work. A tingling of uncertainty wove through me and I wondered, just for a second, if we wouldn’t be better off if she did turn us down. Already four people weren’t going to get in. If Noelle bailed, it would be only three. The fewer casualties, the better, right?

Ivy handed me a freshly written envelope and I placed the invite inside, unsure of what to hope for. Noelle was the only one who could make the choice. I just hoped she made the right one, for all of us.

CHANCE MEETINGS

The weather was bright and crisp as Ivy and I walked across campus together to the post office to mail our taps. It was still early, the main green nearly empty. My heart was a ball of nervous excitement, and every time I looked at Ivy, she was grinning as stupidly as I was. We were really doing it. We were about to make our first real step in bringing back the Billings Literary Society. I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

Ivy yanked open the door to the post office, letting me slip inside before her. I hurried over to the “Campus Mail Only” slot and stood next to it, impatiently waiting for her to catch up. My heart pounded like I was lining up to kick a penalty shot in the last minute of the biggest soccer game of my life.

“This is it,” I said, as Ivy paused facing me. I pulled my stack of pristine ivory-colored envelopes out of my bag and held them in both hands.

Ivy looked me dead in the eye, clutching her half of the invites, grinning. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, highlighting her pale skin and red lips. “This is where it all begins.”

We nodded, took a breath, and slipped the envelopes into the slot. Then we stood there for a moment, staring at it.

“Well. That was anticlimactic,” I said.

“Coffee Carma?” she suggested.

“Sounds good.”

We turned and nearly walked right into Noelle Lange. Both of us froze. I felt like my boyfriend had just caught me with another guy. Where the hell had she come from and how had she done it so stealthily?

“Hey, Reed,” she said. Then she looked down her nose. “Ivy.”

“Noelle,” Ivy said, lowering her voice a few octaves in a mocking way.

I bit down on my tongue to keep from giggling. Noelle’s eyes narrowed.

“You two have certainly been spending a lot of time together,” Noelle said, striding past us to her mailbox. She was wearing tall brown boots, the tops of which disappeared beneath the hem of her belted, camel-colored wool coat. Girl owned more coats than I had pairs of shoes. “Lunch and dinner yesterday. Every period between classes …”

“Yeah, well, we’re friends,” I said. I had caught a couple of strange looks from the Billings Girls when Ivy and I had found our own table yesterday at the dining hall, but I figured they would all understand what was going on soon enough.

“Friends?” Noelle arched one brow as she worked the combination lock. “What on earth do you two have in common?” she asked. “Aside from an intimate knowledge of Josh Hollis, of course.”

Ivy’s jaw dropped open. I almost threw up on my shoes. She did
not
just go there.

“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve both been backstabbed by you,” Ivy shot back, her dark eyes aflame. “We’ve both been deserted by Billings on occasion.”

Noelle smirked as she popped open the small gold door. “Interesting that those are your bonding points, considering what you’ve been doing behind closed doors.”

Ivy and I exchanged a look. How did Noelle have any idea what we’d been doing? But then, she knew everything, didn’t she? She’d been reminding me of that since the first day I met her. Noelle extracted her mail and blithely flipped through it before slamming the door of her box closed.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Ivy,” she said, walking casually toward us. She tucked the mail into her bag and lifted her brown hair over her shoulder. “You were not Billings material then, and you are not Billings material now.”

She delivered this criticism calmly, matter-of-factly, like she was reporting on the weather. Ivy’s ivory skin turned red so fast I actually flinched.

“You guys, listen, I know you’ve got some issues,” I said, looking from one angry face to the other. “But can’t you just try to get along? For me?”

It was as if I hadn’t even spoken. As if I wasn’t even there. The two of them simply stared at each other for a few seconds, before Ivy finally turned on her heel and headed for the door.

“I’ll be outside, Reed,” she said, shoving it open with one hand.

Noelle snorted a laugh. I turned to look at her.

“What is your problem?” I demanded.

“The problem is, Reed, she never should have been invited to join in the first place,” Noelle replied. She shook her head and sighed, as if I was just so naïve. “I hope you didn’t show her the book.”

My heart switched places with my stomach. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. But I imagine that the person who left that thing for you wouldn’t want you sharing it with outsiders,” Noelle replied, adjusting the strap on her brown leather bag.

The door swung open and a pair of freshman girls walked in, chatting loudly. The moment they saw Noelle and I there, facing off, they stopped in their tracks, turned around, and walked right back out. Our reputation was just that intimidating, I guess, but I hardly cared. I was too busy fretting about what might happen if Noelle was right. What if whoever had given me the book was somehow keeping tabs on me and knew I’d included a non—Billings Girl in the proceedings? Would they take the book back?

I saw Noelle watching me out of the corner of her eye.

“Whatever,” I said, not wanting her to see me sweat. “If you don’t want to be involved, you shouldn’t be commenting on how I do things.”

Noelle smiled her knowing smile. “You’re right. I have better things to do with my time.”

Then she turned her back on me and started for the door. Searing hot frustration bubbled up from my very core.

“It’s going to be amazing,” I said. “At some point, you’re going to be sorry you turned me down.”

Noelle paused. She turned around and looked me in the eye. “Have fun playing pretend with your little friend.” Then she whipped around again and walked out.

THE POTENTIALS

Candlelight flickered on the basement walls of Hell Hall, casting eerie shadows along the hulking piles of ancient wooden desks and rickety, broken chairs. This was, apparently, the place all Easton Academy furniture came to die, but tonight, it was going to play host to the start of something new. Something amazing. Something of which the teachers and administrators, who had their offices upstairs, would never approve.

I sat atop a huge metal desk, which Ivy and I had covered with one of the old, dusty, burgundy-colored curtains we’d found in the closet. We’d used the rest of them to cover up the piles of furniture to make the room look slightly cozier. Ivy was perched at one of the fourteen desks we’d arranged in a semicircle facing me.

Tiffany arrived first. She dropped down onto the gritty floor with the dexterity of the ace basketball player she was, frowned at the covered furniture, then took a seat. Rose was next. She peeked inside the window, smiled when she saw me, then turned around and backed through the window, dangling by her hands for a second before she let go. Lorna pretty much fell through sideways and crashed to the floor with an “oomph.” Tiffany, Rose, and I jumped up to see if she was okay, while Ivy rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Lorna whispered. Which, aside from the dirt smear on her camel coat and her obvious embarrassment, she was.

The girls arrived separately at perfect five-minute intervals. We’d planned it that way; it was Friday night, and we didn’t want to generate suspicion in any security guards, teachers, or students who might be loitering in the vicinity. After Lorna came Vienna. Then Missy, Astrid, Kiki, London, Amberly, Shelby, and Portia. They all made it through the window unscathed, except for a scraped hand here or a torn hem there. Constance was one of the last to arrive. She fumbled through the window, plummeted to the floor, and fell right on her ass. Portia, who was closest to the window, snorted a laugh but went to help. Red-faced, Constance grabbed Portia’s hand, scrambled to her feet, and looked around. When her eyes fell on me she visibly brightened and relaxed.