The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (166 page)

I had to win Noelle back. She was the key to putting an end to all of this. She was the key to winning back my life. I wished I had told her about the stalking from the beginning, but I had been too proud. Too afraid to let her know there was a chink in my armor. And look where that attitude had gotten me.

I should have been in my comfy bed in Billings right then, snoozing my cares away. I should have been the one throwing parties with Noelle and shopping for extravagant gifts and planning my Christmas vacation to St. Bart’s.

Instead I was lying in my tiny room all alone, with Josh’s lame-ass Christmas gift leaning up against the far wall, listening to Ivy as she giggled on the phone, while I was stuck looking forward to yet another gray holiday in dreary Croton, Pennsylvania. And, oh, yeah, I was potentially living next door to a killer. The same girl who was, right now, flirting with the love of my life right on the other side of this crappy wall. The same girl who was potentially plotting my former best friend’s murder.

At least as long as she was in there flirting, she wasn’t out there killing anybody. I supposed there was always a bright side.

I rolled over onto my side and groaned, balling the sheet up in my hand. How could I get Noelle’s attention? How could I get her to take me seriously again? How could I make it all up to her? Everything hinged on that. If I could only get back in with Noelle, I could not only have
my
life back, but I could protect—even save—hers.

I had to do something. But what? How could I show Noelle how much she meant to me? Thanks to me and my seven minutes in heaven with Dash, she had been publicly humiliated. How did a person make up for that?

Suddenly, I sat up straight in bed, so excited I almost choked on my own breath. The answer was so obvious, so blatantly obvious, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.

I threw my covers aside and jumped out of bed to power up my computer. I finally had a plan. And this was going to work. It had to.

Thursday morning I was exhausted and foggy and out of it. Even after my Noelle epiphany, I hadn’t been able to do anything but obsess all night long. I couldn’t even fathom making small talk, so at breakfast I decided to sit alone. I dragged my butt over to one of the smaller tables near the wall of the cafeteria and dropped into a cold chair. Supporting my head on my hand, I poked at my Cheerios, shoving them down into the milk until each one was so soggy I didn’t want to eat it at all. My eyes hurt. The skin around my eyes hurt. Even my scalp hurt. I had never been so tired, so frustrated, so scared in my life.

All I could do was hope that my plan for Noelle would work. All I could do was hope that the stalker wouldn’t attack again before I won her back. Because I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

What would I do if it didn’t work? Who would I turn to then?

A familiar laugh caught my attention and I looked over at the Billings table. There was Noelle, her head thrown back in laughter,
looking fresh-faced and gorgeous and carefree. Didn’t she see how miserable I was? Didn’t she care at all?

Then Sabine stepped up to my table, blocking my view.

“Hey,” she said tentatively. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“You probably shouldn’t,” I told her flatly. “Noelle will make your life a living hell.”

“I don’t care.”

Sabine set her tray down and smoothed her brown tweed pencil skirt underneath her as she sat. She slid her linen napkin out and unfolded it on her lap.

“You’re my friend, and if Noelle doesn’t like it,
c’est la vie
,” she said.

I was so touched, my eyes filled with tears. Sabine was the only real friend I had left. Even Constance only spoke to me when there was no chance of her being caught. Not that I didn’t understand. Constance was, after all, terrified of Noelle. As I had been last year. But that just made Sabine’s sacrifice all the more special. Now I needed both hands to hold my head up.

“Reed? What is it? Are you all right?” Sabine asked, concerned.

“No. I’m not,” I said, staring down at my cereal bowl. My voice was thick with unshed tears. “It’s happening again.”

One hot tear escaped the corner of my eye and I let it run right down the side of my nose and plop onto my tray. I was so tired. So, so, so tired.

“What?” Sabine asked, breathless. She leaned into the table. “What’s happening again? Reed, you’re scaring me.”

Don’t do it. Don’t tell. You’ve kept the secret so long—why tell now?

Because I’m exhausted. Because I need help. Because everyone already thinks I’m crazy anyway.

I looked up at Sabine. Her green eyes were wide with worry. She was clearly the only person who cared about me around here. The very thought was so overwhelming, I caved like a paper tent.

“Someone’s stalking me,” I whispered, my face hot with shame.

“What?” Sabine gasped under her breath. She balled her napkin up in her hands and twisted. “What do you mean?”

“For the past couple of months, someone has been leaving things for me to find . . . things related to Cheyenne,” I said in a rush. I couldn’t believe I was finally letting this out, but it actually felt kind of good to share it with someone—freeing. “They were in our room. They left black balls in my drawer and Cheyenne’s clothes in my closet, and they planted that perfume in my bag the day of the fund-raiser, and they sent me these e-mails as if they were from Cheyenne. Hundreds and hundreds of e-mails. I think they even fished that photo of me and Cheyenne out of my bottom drawer and pinned it to my bulletin board that time . . . remember?”

Sabine bit her lip. “Which picture?”

I was so frustrated I dropped both hands on the table, which caused a clatter of silverware and dishes. “Forget it. It’s not important. But whoever it is has gotten really crazy since I moved into Pemberly.” I looked around to make sure no one was in hearing distance, then lowered my voice just to be sure. “They left me those pills. The same ones Cheyenne used to kill herself. Or, well, I mean,
the same ones the murderer used to kill her, I guess.”

Sabine gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “What?”

“Yeah. And that photo of me and Cheyenne, well, they pulled it out again, but this time they X’d out the faces. And last night they destroyed my room. Left the bed unmade and did this other stuff that Cheyenne once did to me. . . .” I stopped, gasping for air. Someone at a nearby table laughed, and a glass broke on the other side of the room, drawing a quick round of applause—reminding me of where I was. For a moment I think I’d been so focused on my story, I’d forgotten. “Sabine, I don’t even want to go back to my room.”

For a long moment Sabine said nothing. She sat back in her chair, rock still, and stared down at the table, clearly trying to process everything I’d said.

“I can’t believe this,” she said finally. “Why did you not tell me this before? This person sounds dangerous.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy,” I admitted, toying with my water glass. “I thought I could handle it on my own. Or I thought it would go away. But it hasn’t. It’s only gotten worse.”

Sabine pushed her tray forward and folded her arms in front of it. “And you have no idea who it is?”

“No,” I said miserably. “I thought I did, but . . .”

Sabine folded her napkin back over her lap. She pushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear and looked straight at me.

“This may sound weird,” Sabine said tentatively. “But have you considered Ivy?”

I had felt as if I had been spinning and spinning and spinning in place and someone had just held out a hand to stop me. As if the whole world had just snapped back into focus. Finally.

“Why? Do you know something?” I asked.

Sabine glanced over her shoulder before leaning in even farther. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I saw Ivy inside Billings the morning of the fund-raiser.”

All the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Inside? How?”

“I think . . . I think she was visiting Rose. At least, she was coming out of Rose’s room,” Sabine admitted. “I figured they were old friends so it didn’t seem that strange to me, but now . . . it’s kind of a big coincidence, no? She could have left Cheyenne’s perfume for you that day.”

My mind reeled and a cold shudder passed through me, making me cling to my cardigan sweater. Rose. Could Rose have been letting Ivy into Billings all that time? Could she have been helping Ivy torture me? She was the only other person who had been in the room when Cheyenne had pulled her blush bead act. It all made perfect sense. And I knew she was still friendly with Ivy. She and Portia were the ones who had floated the idea of re-extending Ivy’s invite to Billings at the beginning of the year. Maybe she had been trying to bring Ivy and Cheyenne back together. Smooth everything over. That was totally her style.

But then why would sweet little Rose want to stalk me? She had been Cheyenne’s best friend. Did she really think I had pushed
Cheyenne over the edge? Was she punishing me? Did she blame me for Cheyenne’s expulsion?

“Where is she?” I said, glancing over at the Billings table. “I have to talk to her.”

“Rose? You didn’t hear?” Sabine said, stabbing at a chunk of melon with her fork.

“Hear what?” I asked, my throat closing.

“She went home yesterday morning,” Sabine replied. “She has mono or something, so they sent her home so she wouldn’t spread it.”

“Mono?” I repeated. That seemed a tad convenient. Right when I was onto a breakthrough, the girl who could sort it all out had fled campus? My pulse raced through my veins like a brakeless freight train. It was all too big of a coincidence. It had to be Rose and Ivy. It had to be.

But why?

“You should go to the police,” Sabine said, her eyes serious. “I mean it, Reed. If someone is stalking you, that’s a serious crime, no?”

I scoffed. “They won’t listen to me. I’ve already asked them to investigate Ivy and they won’t bother. I need to get some concrete evidence.”

“Well, did you take pictures of the damage to your room?” Sabine asked. “Show them that.”

My face burned in embarrassment. It hadn’t even occurred to me to take pictures. I had been too busy freaking out and trying to clean it up so that I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

“No. No pictures,” I said.

“Oh.” Sabine chewed slowly. “Well then, next time . . . I mean, if there is a next time,” she said comfortingly, “make sure you get pictures.”

“I will.”

I folded my arms on the table and rested my chin atop them, realizing I actually felt relieved. Just like that, I could put Ivy back at the top of my list. I no longer had to figure out a whole new list of stalker suspects. I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder every second—only when Ivy was around.

Another laugh from the Billings table caught our attention. Sabine rolled her eyes as she took another bite of melon.

“I am so sick of that Amberly girl,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” I replied, happy for the change of subject. Something to distract me. “I’ll bet she sucks as a roommate.”

“I hardly know,” Sabine replied. “She’s in Noelle’s room twenty-four-seven. They’re fused at the hip. All they do is talk about their travel plans for Christmas. Noelle even gave Amberly a vintage Louis Vuitton travel trunk. Portia said it’s worth more than Noelle’s car.”

I could practically feel my skin turning green. It was weird even to think about Portia and Sabine hanging around Billings, discussing such things. Weird to think that normal Billings life was going on without me.

“I don’t understand what Noelle sees in her,” I said through my teeth. “Would you believe the little twit tried to blackmail me?”

“No! How?” Sabine asked.

“Remember the other night at the library when you walked in on us by the vending machines?” I said.

Sabine nodded, obviously intrigued, her fork suspended over her fruit salad.

“She basically told me she wanted me to give her that Billings disc or else,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Sabine’s face slackened slightly. “But you destroyed that disc.”

“I know, but I told Noelle I still had a copy,” I replied, blushing slightly as I recalled my own lame attempt at blackmail.

“Oh. But you don’t?” Sabine asked, pushing her food around now.

“No. I was just trying to get Noelle’s attention,” I said with a sigh, folding my arms on the table. “Anyway, Amberly went all
Sopranos
about it. Like she was willing to do anything to protect her own.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she can’t get her hands on that information,” Sabine said, laying her fork down finally. “It would not be good for anyone if that got out.”

“I know. I kind of have a feeling that, no matter what she says, our privacy would not be her first priority,” I added, glancing over at Amberly as she held out her hand to show her manicured nails to Lorna.

“A ditzy little upstart like her? Definitely not,” Sabine agreed, following my gaze.

“Well, whatever. I’m kind of dying to see what her version of ‘or else’ looks like,” I said with a laugh as I stood. “I’m going to go get some more cereal.”

As I rejoined the food line, Ivy and Josh were just coming out the
other end with their breakfasts. Much to my surprise, Josh said hi to me, but Ivy simply smirked. I narrowed my eyes at her and didn’t look away until the snarky expression completely fell off her face.

She and Rose had been torturing me. I was sure of it. Now all I had to do was find the proof. And photograph it.

As I sat in morning services, listening to the Crom drone on about rules and regulations for tomorrow night’s Easton Holiday Dinner, I realized I felt better than I had at breakfast. About as good as a person in my rather precarious and pathetic position could feel. I turned in my pew slightly to glance back at Noelle. She was texting on her iPhone, so she didn’t see me. I couldn’t help but cross my fingers. I so had to win her back tomorrow night.
Had
to. Because if my plan didn’t work . . . No. I couldn’t think that way. I had to be positive.