Scandal (9 page)

My heart skipped a tentative beat.

“Noelle had nothing to do with it.”

A Barton player with a frizzy blond ponytail scored a sweet three; half the crowd went nuts.

“But they both knew about it before the rest of us,” Constance whispered as the cheers died down. “We could all tell.”

“I needed someone to help me figure it all out,” I admitted, keeping my eye on the game. Tiffany stole the ball and raced down the court, executing a perfect layup. I clapped my hands as the Easton side cheered. “Noelle said no so I asked Ivy.”

Constance swallowed, her lips pulled back almost as if she were trying not to throw up. “Ivy Slade.”

My gut tightened. Suddenly I knew exactly where this was going.

“Constance, I—”

“She’s not even a Billings Girl,” Constance said, ducking her head. “I mean, why would you ask her instead of, like … Kiki or Astrid or—”

“You?” I finished.

“No! No … I mean … well, yeah,” Constance said with a shrug. “Why not me? I mean, I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” I said. “It’s just, Ivy …”

How was I supposed to explain this? Was I really going to say that Ivy was stronger? Smarter? Better at keeping a secret?

“Ivy was … She was really depressed after the shooting,” I lied. “I just felt like she needed something, you know? Like a project? Something to make her feel like she was useful and part of something.”

Constance’s eyes widened. “Really?”

She was so gullible I felt even guiltier for lying. “Yeah. But don’t say anything about it, okay? She’s still pretty sensitive.”

“Okay. I get it,” Constance said eagerly. If there was one thing she loved, it was to feel included, to be brought into someone’s confidence.

“Constance, you know not to tell anyone about this, right?” I said, placing my hand on hers. “Not even Whit?”

Constance rolled her eyes. “Please. I know what the word
secret
means, Reed.”

I sure hoped so.

She shifted in her seat and looked out at the court. “That’s so nice of you to do that for Ivy. Especially since she’s with Josh and everything. You’re, like, a saint!”

I gave her a stiff smile.

Just then, Ivy joined us, dropping down on the bench next to me and taking a swig of her Coke. “All right, explain this game to me,” she said. “I know you’re supposed to get the ball through the hoop, but other than that I got nothing.”

“I can explain it to you!” Constance offered, getting up and shooing me aside so she could sit next to Ivy.

I slid closer to Kiki and tried not to hang my head in shame. Now Constance was being nice to Ivy because she thought the girl was depressed? Good one, Reed.

But so what? I’d only lied to spare Constance’s feelings. The one little lie wouldn’t matter.

During a lull in the noise, I heard my phone beep and fished it out of my bag. It was a text from Upton.

Haven’t heard from you in a while. Are we still friends? :)

My heart clenched and I looked around at the Easton crowd. Ivy and Constance were chatting with their heads bent close together. The rest of the girls were cheering as Tiffany set up the next play at center court, dribbling the ball in front of her. And behind me, I could practically feel Josh’s presence. Feel his eyes on the back of my neck.

Just my imagination. It was just me wishing I was as important to him now as I’d once been.

From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Ivy. She was completely focused on the game. Slowly, I turned around, trying to make it seem like I was just looking for someone in the crowd.

And Josh was staring right at me. My heart stopped. He held my gaze for a long moment. A
very
long moment. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I wanted to do was grab him and pull him out of here and kiss him. Then finally, slowly, he looked past me at the court. The moment passed, but my pulse continued to race.

My throat completely dry, I turned around again and looked down at my phone. It was possible that Josh and I would never be together again. But I was starting to think that my getting over him was completely
im
possible. My heart heavy, my fingers trembling, I texted Upton back.

Of course we’re still friends. but would u hate me 4ever if i said “just friends?”

I held my breath, fretting over his reply. It came almost instantly.

Could never hate u. And can never have enuf hot American friends.

I laughed, relieved, and texted back a thank-you, then tucked my phone away and tried to concentrate on the game. At least one relationship on my life was now clearly defined. Now if only I could figure out the rest of them, I’d be golden.

LIGHT READING

“Did you guys know that Mitchell and Micah Easton had a sister? Her name was Marianne and she married this French guy against her father’s wishes and moved to Paris,” Constance gushed, leaning over the table at the solarium on Sunday night.

“I like the girl already,” Astrid put in.

She was kicked back, her big black boots on the marble table, a huge hardcover copy of
Jane Eyre
open in front of her. Tucked inside of it was her Easton Handbook, open to a back page having to do with Easton’s prized historical objects. The old bell, the paintings in the art cemetery, the cornerstone from Gwendolyn Hall, the oldest building at Easton … at least until last semester’s fire leveled it. The cornerstone was now encased in glass in the library.

“Do you think anyone is wondering what we’re doing?” London whispered, leaning over the table as she looked around.

Constance, Kiki, Lorna, Missy, London, Vienna, and Rose also had their handbooks hidden inside novels from the list inscribed at the back of the Billings Literary Society book. The list had been added to throughout the years, starting with Thomas Paine’s
Common Sense
and ending with
Fear of Flying
by Erica Jong. It was our way of paying homage to the original Billings Girls, and it gave the handbooks the perfect camouflage. Any teacher might have thought it was odd if a table full of coffee-sipping girls were poring over the Easton handbook—especially considering we were all juniors and seniors. Library books, however, were more of a common sight around here.

“They’re probably wondering what
you’re
doing since you haven’t taken out a library book since your Clifford the Big Red Dog days,” Vienna joked.

London shoved Vienna’s arm and clucked her tongue but laughed as she sat back again.

Surreptitiously I glanced around the octagonal solarium. Sandwiched between the Coffee Carma counter on the far wall and the bay of windows that overlooked the now darkened campus were about twenty other students. Some were curled into the high-backed chairs and a few sat chatting on couches and laughing over texts. A group of senior girls at the next table over were eyeing us with what could only be called disdain. I wondered just how many people here thought that the razing of Billings was justified.

Then my gaze fell on Diana and her friend Shane Freundel. I lifted my hand in a wave, which they reciprocated with a smile. They had always been so intrigued by Billings. Were they annoyed that it had been torn down—that they wouldn’t get that last chance to live there as seniors? Maybe next year, after the current seniors graduated, I would invite them and Sonal to be in the new class of potentials.

Just as I was about to turn back to my book, I spotted Josh coming through the doorway with Trey. The moment he saw me, he turned red, ducked his head, and veered off toward the coffee counter. Clearly confused, Trey hesitated for a moment, then followed.

My face burned. Was the idea of saying hello to me so very awful?

“I can’t believe they actually wanted to tear down the original library in the eighties,” Rose said, reaching for her coffee. “I love that building.”

“I know. Good thing the Whittakers put a stop to it,” Kiki said. “Thank your boyfriend for us, C.”

Constance beamed and grabbed her phone. “I’ll text him right now.”

I forced a smile, trying to put Josh out of my mind, and scanned the page of the handbook in front of me, searching out tough but fair questions. As I jotted down a note about the number of books housed within the Easton library, I felt a shift in the solarium’s jovial vibe.

“Incoming,” Kiki whispered.

Headmaster Hathaway was strolling toward our table, all hip-casual in a cashmere sweater-over-shirt combo and flat-front pants. He had a quizzical look on his face. My friends pulled their books a bit closer, drawing the thick tomes into their laps or holding them directly in front of their faces.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greeted us, standing just over Rose’s shoulder. Rose slipped her handbook from her copy of
The Bostonians
and placed it in her lap under the table. “Getting in a little light reading?”

Every pair of eyes slid toward me. I closed my copy of
Clarissa
and placed it flat on the table, folding my hands over it.

“Actually, we’re thinking about forming a literary club,” I said.

A few of my friends tensed. But the closer my words were to the truth, the harder it would be to peg them as outright lies.

Over the past year and a half I’d learned a few things from Noelle and Cheyenne. Even Ariana and Sabine. God help me.

The headmaster rubbed his chin.

“Interesting. Are your teachers not giving you enough class work? Because I can have a chat with them about that if you like,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh no. Our workload is fine,” Kiki said, dropping her heavy copy of
War and Peace
on the table with a thud. “It’s just that we Billings Girls
love
to read. It’s kind of what we’re known for.”

Everyone, including me, barely held in the laughter.

“Did they not tell you that about us?” Astrid put in. “We are extraordinarily dedicated to the advancement of our intellect.”

The headmaster furrowed his brow. He was no longer in on the joke, and he clearly didn’t like the feeling.

“Well. That’s refreshing to hear,” he said after a beat. Then he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “But let me remind you all that the Billings Girls no longer exist. You are all simply students of Easton Academy now.”

“Oh yes,” Missy said, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling. “We’re aware.”

“Very aware,” Lorna added, smoothing her freshly straightened hair over her shoulder.

“Good,” he said. Then he gave me a quick nod and a smile. “Enjoy your reading.”

We all held our breath as he walked away. Somehow we managed to wait until he left the solarium, fresh cappuccino in hand, before we doubled over laughing.

THE FIRST TASK

At midnight on Monday, everyone gathered once again in the basement of Hell Hall. I’d gotten there early to rehang the dark drapes over the furniture, but this time there would be no light aside from that generated by the large white candle I held in my hands. The room was so hushed I could hear the wick burning slowly down. Standing in a wide circle around me were the fourteen potentials, all of them dressed in head-to-toe white, as instructed. Which, given the fact that it was January, couldn’t have been easy. There were a few minidresses, a couple pairs of wrinkled linen pants. Constance was wearing a floor-length white flannel nightgown that made her look about eight years old. Kiki sported a tank top and white boxers. Tiffany kept her white coat buttoned over whatever she was wearing underneath. Noelle, of course, had donned a white silk dress that looked as if it had just been whisked off some runway model mid—fashion show and flown in for the occasion.

I took a breath and looked down at my candle. The book had instructed that I pose a question to a prospective, then tilt the candle over that person’s hand as they answered. If an answer took more than five seconds, I was to drip hot wax on that person’s hand.

The very idea had kept me up at night. It seemed 1915 had been a mite closer to medieval torture times. So I’d decided to change it slightly—update it to fit with the times. Upon their arrival, each of the potentials had been given a book of matches. Lorna turned hers over and over in her fingers.

I glanced at my watch. It was one minute past twelve.

“You have all gathered here in confidence to have your worthiness tested,” I began.

A couple of people flinched at the sound of my voice. My candle flickered. I took a breath and told myself to chill.

“I have arranged you in order of your seniority at Easton,” I said, turning to face Noelle. “The eldest will be tested first.”

Noelle smirked. My hand shook.

“You will light one match. I will pose my question. You must answer correctly before the flame is extinguished,” I instructed. This way, I had figured, the time restriction would still be in place, and maybe a few fingertips would be singed, but at least I wouldn’t have to personally injure anyone. “A late answer will be marked as a wrong answer. Each of you will be asked five questions in turn.” I fixed each girl with a brief stare. Amberly looked like she was about to pass out. “There will be silence throughout this process. Only myself and the person before the flame may speak.”