the girl who had told me she hated Ariana and Noelle above anyone? It just didn't add up.
Steeling myself, I studied the photo, looking for clues. Judging by the girls' clothes and the
blossoming tree behind them, the picture had been taken in the spring, but when? Why? Why
those four and only those four? I was about to pluck the photo off the wall for a closer look, when
down the hallway a door slammed, scaring the breath right out of me. My head whipped around
to look at the door and I took a few stumbling steps away from the bed, every inch of me shaking. I
couldn't stay here any longer. I was going to have to continue my search another time.
As I fumbled with the doorknob, I took one last look at the photo. Why on earth would Ivy want
the faces of the people who had betrayed her to be the last thing she saw before closing her eyes
at night?
There was definitely something freaky going on here. And I was going to figure out what it was.
41
SUSPECT NUMERO UNO
I skipped breakfast, spending the hour calming my nerves, adding to my list of evidence against
Ivy, and sending Noelle an e-mail apologizing once again for what I had done. All I could do was
hope that she would have an unguarded moment and read the message, and that my words might
start to melt the ice wall she had put up between us. I finally headed out in time to make it to
morning services at the chapel, where I sneaked in at the back of the crowd.The vibe in the air was
hushed, paranoid. Apparently everyone had heard about the murder investigation at breakfast.
And if they hadn't, the two uniformed cops stationed near the doors of the chapel certainly set an
eerie tone.
"... police are taking over Dean Marcus's old office...."
"Are they going to interrogate everyone? I didn't even know the girl."
"... everyone knows who did it anyway--"
42
When I heard that one, my head whipped around, but I couldn't tell who had said it. I was soon
bustled right down the center aisle to the junior section, where I was about to sit in my usual pew-
-until I realized it was a Billings pew. Instead, I took the one two rows back and tried to hold my
head high.
"Hi, Reed," Constance whispered as she slid into the pew in front of mine. "How was your first
night in your new room?" she asked, trying to sound all positive and upbeat.
"Fine," I lied, the back of my neck flushed with heat. I could practically feel Noelle watching us
from a few rows back. I knew she wouldn't like the idea of Constance fraternizing with the enemy.
"But the room itself is kind of dark and depressing."
"I missed you," Sabine added as she joined Constance. "It was so odd, sleeping in that room
alone."
A lump of sorrow filled my throat, nearly choking me. Meanwhile, Missy shot me a death glare as
she, Lorna, Astrid, and Kiki filed in next to Sabine.
"You guys better quit it," Missy hissed to my friends while glancing at me. "Noelle will eat you alive
for talking to her."
My heart squeezed tightly in my chest.
"I don't care what Noelle thinks," Sabine said defiantly.
"No, you guys, Missy's right," I said, as much as it pained me to agree with her. "You don't want to
get on her bad side right now. I'm fine. Just... face forward."
Constance and Sabine turned their backs to me reluctantly and I slumped against the hard pew. A
few other juniors filled in the seats
43
to my right, all eyeing me with curiosity, wondering why I was in their row. I supposed the news of
my expulsion from Billings hadn't completely made the rounds yet. Either that or they were still
obsessing over the Reed-and-Dash-seminude show they had all gotten to see. I had been the
subject of whispers and stares ever since the night of the fund-raiser.
"Good morning, faculty and students of Easton Academy!" Headmaster Cromwell announced,
taking his spot behind the podium.
"Good morning, Headmaster Cromwell," we dutifully recited.
With a nod, our fearless leader got right down to the morning announcements. He wore a gray
suit and blue tie this morning, along with his ever-present American flag tie tack. His white hair
was perfectly slicked back from his face and his voice boomed throughout the chapel as always,
but I noticed something different about him. There was something almost jaunty in the way he
spoke and held his head. Like Mr. Serious was actually excited about something.
How was that possible, when we had another murder on our hands and the Easton Police
announcement that I'm hoping will bring a bit of levity to our lives here at Easton," he said, looking
across the room. A never-before-seen sparkle danced in his normally dead blue eyes. "This year I
have decided to reinstate an old Easton Academy tradition--the Easton Academy Holiday Dinner."
Instantly, the entire chapel filled with an excited buzz. Everyone, it seemed, knew what this dinner
was--all except me.
44
"For those of you who are new to our community, the Easton Academy Holiday Dinner is a catered
banquet held in the dining hall. There will be traditional holiday fair and decorations, the Easton
Academy Chorale will treat us to a holiday concert, and everyone will have a chance to relax and
unwind before finals. All students and faculty are invited. In my day this dinner was the social
event of the season. I'm hoping it will be that again."
The buzzing intensified as the girls around me started gabbing about how their mothers and
grandmothers had always talked about the Holiday Dinner and how fabulous it was. I was
surprised my classmates could get so excited about a dinner in the cafeteria.
"The dinner will be held next Friday night. Dress will be formal," the headmaster continued. "Also,
each student will be receiving a special note in his or her mailbox this afternoon. This note will
contain the name of another Easton student. You are to select a gift for this student and bring it,
wrapped in holiday paper, to the dinner, to be placed under the Easton tree."
"Yay! Presents!" Lorna said, clapping her hands. "I hope someone good gets me."
Now the talking was at an all-time high. Headmaster Cromwell raised his large hands and called for
silence. Instantly, the chapel went quiet. We were all used to following his demands by now.
"Finally," he said, "the Holiday Dinner also includes a toasting hour, one of my favorite traditions.
During this hour any student who wishes to do so will have the opportunity to stand up and toast
another member of the Easton community, whether it be for their service to
45
the school or their academic achievement or their steadfast friendship. It is an honor to be singled
out during toasting hour, so if you intend to speak for someone, please prepare your toast in
advance. Your speeches should be eloquent and from the heart. Anyone giving an inappropriate
speech will, of course, be dealt with accordingly. That is all."
"Leave it to Cromwell to end on a sour note," Lorna said under her breath.
Still, everyone around me was chatting happily, and smiles abounded. I couldn't help thinking that,
for once, the Crom had gotten it right. This dinner was exactly what Easton needed. Something to
look forward to. Something to get our minds off Cheyenne's murder investigation.
As soon as we were dismissed, I jumped up and exited the chapel as fast as I could. Outside, the
bright sun bounced off the white blanket of snow covering the quad, nearly blinding me. I had to
close my eyes for a split second, and my foot came down on someone else's. Blinking, I could just
make out the purple-y shadow of Amberly Carmichael, freshman and heir to the Coffee Carma
empire. I was just opening my mouth to apologize when she cut me off.
"Watch it," she snapped, yanking a white wool cap over her wavy blond hair. "I don't want to be
your next victim."
Her two sidekicks, who always hovered behind her, laughed before they all sauntered off. For a
second, I didn't move. I was too stunned. Since when did Amberly talk to me that way? Since when
did any
46
freshman talk to any upperclassman that way? And next victim? What was that about?
I looked around at the crowd still pouring through the doors. Several people who had been looking
at me looked away, and a few sophomore girls hanging out near the outer wall of the chapel
sneered in my direction. I saw Detective Hauer coming my way with a uniformed police officer and
my pulse froze in my veins.
Please. Not here.
They walked right by me. But that was when I heard the whispers.
"That's her."
"She totally did it."
"... capable of anything."
"Psycho whore, basically. That's what we should call her."
My heartbeat pounded in every inch of my body. These weren't the same scathing remarks I'd
been getting before Thanksgiving break. These were worse. Venomous. What was going on?
Just then Gage Coolidge slipped through the chapel doors and started past me. My hand shot out,
Gage paused, looked down at my hand like it was a leech, and slowly pulled his arm away. He
dusted off his designer coat like I'd left a trail of ants behind.
"Not cool," he said, looking past me. His handsome face was ruddy from the cold and his eyes
darted around as if concerned about who might see us together.
"Don't worry. This'll only take a second," I said, bravely squaring my shoulders. If there was anyone
on this campus who had no right
47
to judge someone else based on their sexual escapades, it was Gage. Plus, he had always been
brutally honest. It was one of the only things I liked about him. And hated, depending on the
situation. "What the hell is going on? Everyone's looking at me like I'm about to blow up the
building."
"Funny!" Gage said. "Amazing how you can be funny right now, Brennan. They must've raised you
tough out on the farm."
I grabbed his arm again and pulled him around the corner, away from the prying eyes of the
crowd. "What are they saying about me now?"
Gage scoffed, his head tipping back as he did so. "What aren't they saying? Rumor has it that you
were the one who got dragged in for questioning before break. Apparently you are suspect
numero uno in Cheyenne's murder."
"What?" I breathed.
"Good surprise face, kid. I like a girl who can act," Gage said, amused.
"I'm not acting, idiot," I replied. "Yeah, Hauer questioned me, but that was before they even knew
for sure she was murdered. And I am not a suspect."
"That's not what everyone's saying. They're saying you offed Cheyenne so that Noelle could get
back into Billings," Gage reported bluntly. He reached up to smooth his short, brown hair forward,
rolling his eyes skyward as if he could see what he was doing.
"That again?" I said, throwing up my hands and letting them slap down at my sides. "Noelle
quashed that one a couple weeks ago."
48
"Yeah, well, it's back. Only no one thinks Noelle was involved anymore," Gage informed me.
Apparently satisfied with his coif now, he shoved his ungloved hands under his arms to keep them
warm. "They're saying you couldn't stand not having Noelle down the hall from you because you
worship her so hard-core, so you forced Cheyenne to take those pills and forged the suicide note.
They're also saying that having Noelle in Billings wasn't enough. You wanted to be Noelle, and
that's why you got all horizontal with her boyfriend."
My brain couldn't process this information. It was bad enough being looked upon as a
backstabbing slut. Now everyone thought I was a murderer, too? I glanced around at the few
people walking along the path to the library and once again, every last one of them quickly looked
away.
"Was it because you didn't get enough love out there in East Bumblefart, Pennsylvania?" Gage
asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Is that why you do the things you do, Brennan?"
"I didn't do anything," I said through my teeth, my fingers clenching into fists. "Cheyenne was
leaving anyway--she was expelled."
"Yeah. You just keep telling yourself that," Gage said. "You know, if the world isn't giving you
enough hugs, you can always hug yourself, " he said mockingly, crossing his arms in an X over his
chest with a sad little frown. Then he laughed and strode away with his signature swagger.
I stood there for a moment in shock, unable to move or think or breathe. Noelle was the only
person who knew I had been the one to be questioned by Hauer that night. Why would she do
this? Why
49
would she start such a vicious rumor? Hadn't I been through enough already?
Unless she was trying to send me a message. Trying to tell me how very over we actually were.
This wasn't something you did to a person you planned to eventually forgive. This was something
you did to a person you hated to her very core.
My eyes filled with hot tears. Noelle hated me. She really and truly hated me.
A few girls from Pemberly walked by and saw me standing there, looking like I'd just been told I
had three days to live. They all clutched each other and moved quickly away, like they thought I
might suddenly attack. On their retreat they nearly ran over Josh Hollis and Ivy Slade. My
boyfriend and my stalker. My boyfriend and the murderer.
My whole body went numb at the sight of Josh. His dark blond curls danced in the wind, and his
blue eyes looked pained as he passed by me, like he wanted to talk. Almost like he was desperate
to talk to me. But then Ivy tightened her grip on his arm and he turned away, ducking through the
door to Hull Hall.
That was it. It was all I could take. I shoved my notebook into my bag and took off for class alone.
50
INSIGNIFICANT
I survived that first day back by focusing on my teachers when I was in class and keeping my head
down and my earbuds in when I wasn't. At lunch I grabbed a sandwich and ate it by myself outside
in the frigid air. Dinner I skipped entirely. Basically I played right into my new role--that of campus
outcast extraordinaire.But after another sleepless night, I realized I couldn't live like this. First, I
loved breakfast. Pretty much lived for it, actually. And second, I didn't want to prove everyone
right. I couldn't slink around campus and let them think I was guilty. I hated proving people right.
From that morning on I was going to hold my head high. People could say what they wanted. I
t
wasn't going to affect me.
Besides, I wanted to keep an eye on Ivy whenever I could. Who knew when she might trip up and
give something away? I wanted to be there when it happened.
Of course, when I emerged from the breakfast line on Tuesday
51
morning I immediately doubted the sagacity of my plan. My eyes instinctively darted to the Billings
tables and I felt such an instant and intense longing I almost fell over. There they were. My old
friends. Looking as beautiful and untouchable as ever. They laughed and chatted and passed
around holiday catalogs and checked out one another's notes for class. Somehow, they seemed
even more stylish and alluring and perfect than usual. Like when Josh had miraculously woken up
even hotter the day after we'd broken up.
I forced myself to look at the other tables and seek out some new place to sit. But only wary,
suspicious faces greeted me.
What was I thinking? This was never going to work. There was nowhere for me to go.
"Hey, Reed."
I flinched, startled that someone was actually talking to me. When I turned around I found Diana
Waters, Kiki's roommate in Bradwell last year, hovering behind me. Behind her were two of her
friends from Pemberly--Sonal Shah and Shane Freundel, people I knew vaguely from class. I had
noticed Diana hanging out with them ever since Kiki had been invited to live in Billings.
"Hi, Diana," I said. "Hey," I added to the girls behind her. They gaped at me as if amazed I
possessed the ability to speak.
"You can sit with us, if you want," Diana offered, a smile lighting up her pretty, makeup-free face.
She pushed a blond wave off her shoulder.
I was so relieved I could have hugged her, but at the same time
52
some shallow part of my inner being felt exactly how far I had fallen. A couple of weeks ago I had
basically been the queen of this place. I'd had the most sought-after guys falling all over each
other to ask me out and all the most elite girls at Easton hanging on my every word. Now a group
of lowly Pemberly juniors in jeans, hoodies, and sneakers were extending a pity invite to their
breakfast table. I could only imagine the giggles Noelle would get out of this.
Still, it was better than eating alone.
"Thanks," I said.
I managed to keep my chin up as I followed them to their table in the far wing, away from the
center of the room where the Billings Girls held court. I refused to look to see if Noelle and the
others were watching. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction. But I felt as if I were under a harsh
spotlight as I walked, and when I finally fell into a chair at Diana's table, I felt exhausted.
"Nice table," I said, forcing a smile for Diana and her friends. "Very private."
They all smiled in a self-conscious way, but no one replied. Ooookay.
Trying to act as if everything was perfectly normal, I picked up my bottle of apple juice, shook it
up, and popped the top. As I took a sip, I realized that Diana and her two friends were all
communicating with one another silently, darting looks and nudging shoulders. Sour apprehension
filled my stomach.
"What?" I said, lowering the bottle.