(a) make this part of the night more fun, and (b) give me an excuse to avoid kissing Dominic and/or going back to wherever he was
staying. From the way he'd been looking at me all night, I had a feeling he had one or both in mind. Thank God Platinum had turned
out to be a Twin Cities--approved destination. I turned around to dance with Sabine. Dominic moved right in behind me, grinding
against my back. I tried to ignore the invasion. "Where are London and Vienna?" I asked. "They saw some guys they knew, so they're
bringing them over," Sabine shouted in reply. She glanced over my shoulder at Dominic and made a disgusted face. I was feeling a lit-
tle disgusted myself. "I'm taking her to the bathroom!" Sabine yelled at him. Then she grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I had
never been more grateful. "I will be here!" Dominic shouted after us.
We got to a less crowded corner of the dance floor and Sabine stopped. "Are you okay?" "Yeah. Thank you for getting me out of
there, though," I said, leaning toward her ear. "He was totally fine until he started drinking like a sponge. Now all of a sudden he's Mr.
Inappropriate Touching." "There you guys are!" London sang, holding Vienna's hand aloft as she wove toward us. They both had full
martini glasses, the liquid sloshing over the sides as they walked. The guys they had brought along looked like two Abercrombie mod-
els, one with dark skin and a white shirt, the other with light skin and a black shirt. Both ridiculously hot. "Let's dance!" Vienna said,
throwing her arm over my shoulder. I glanced behind me, but couldn't spot Dominic in the crowd. Who cared where he was, anyway?
A few minutes without his paws all over me felt like a good idea. Plus this place was so jam-packed there was a decent chance he'd
never find us again. Might not be the most polite way in the world to end a date, but at least it would be easy. And this weekend I was
all about easy.
"Don't worry about him," Sabine told me, clearly noticing that I was in crowd-scan mode. "I'm sure he's already molesting some
other girl. Hopefully one who feels like being molested." I laughed and decided to just live in the moment. And so I did. I danced with
my friends, letting go of everything. Letting the music move through me. Letting it shove out all thoughts of the guys I wanted and the
girls they apparently wanted instead of me. Letting thoughts of Billings and its possible closing and of the strange, Cheyenne-related
happenings fade. I just let it all go and had fun with my friends. Eventually white-shirted Abercrombie boy moved from Vienna to me
and we danced together for a good half hour. Unlike Dominic, any touching he did was appropriate. He had incredible rhythm and an
even more incredible smile. Hmmm. Maybe the next boyfriend of the Billings president could be a wild card. Someone from outside
Easton's walls... Now all I had to do was find out who the heck he was. "What's your name? " I shouted, leaning toward him. "Fine!"
he replied, smiling and nodding to the beat.
Yeah. Communication was not so easy inside Platinum. Whatever. I decided to let it go and just dance. Which was what I was do-
ing when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and had to peel my hair from my sweaty cheeks. Dominic stood in front of me,
his face gleaming, the champagne bottle still in hand. "You never came back from the bathroom," he said. "I couldn't find you," I lied.
He grinned. "Well, good that I found you, then." He took a slug from the bottle, then offered it to me. "Drink?" he asked me for about
the millionth time that night. "No, thanks." I wrinkled my nose. I had already downed one glass of wine at the restaurant and I did not
want to get drunk. I had learned my lesson at the Legacy and the day after. Being hungover again was not in my immediate plans.
"You have had nothing to drink since we got here," he accused. "So?" I replied. "So you should lighten up. Look around. It's a party."
He spread his arms wide and clunked a Hollywood starlet in the head with his bottle. "Hey! Watch it!" she shouted, shoving him. Do-
minic merely laughed.
"I know it's a party, and I'm having fun," I shouted at him. I glanced back at Abercrombie boy, but he had moved on to some chick
in a pink wig, damn it. "I don't need to drink to have fun!" I told Dominic. Dominic snorted a laugh, wavering slightly in place, then
took another slug from the bottle. "Cheyenne was right about you," he said. My blood seemed to freeze in my veins. I looked over my
shoulder at Sabine and the Twin Cities. Apparently they had heard it too, because they had all stopped dancing. "Excuse me?" I said.
"She was always saying how you had this stick up your butt. Which made sense, since you were from the sticks," he said with another
snort. "Shut it, Infante!" Vienna snapped, coming over to stand next to me. London and Sabine gathered around as well. "Just because
you're a pseudo prince doesn't mean you can talk to my girl like that." Dominic sniffed and took another drink. "Wait. You and
Cheyenne talked about me?" I demanded, my heart pounding a mile a minute. "When? Why?"
"Cheyenne was an old friend," he said. "A very close friend," he added suggestively. "She liked to cuddle afterward. And talk." Vi-
enna and I looked at one another, skeeved. "You hooked up with Cheyenne? When?" Vienna demanded. "All the time," Dominic
replied, standing up straight. "Girl really made her way through Ketlar. But Hollis was her ultimate conquest, and now I can see why
he went for her, even though he was with you. Cheyenne was hot behind closed doors. But you..." He looked me up and down with
disdain, a complete one-eighty from the way he'd checked me out at our hotel suite. "You are kind of a frigid bitch, aren't you?"
I felt as if all the wind had just been knocked out of me. I wanted to slap him, but before I could regain my senses, London did it
for me. And Dominic was so drunk, he went down like a house of cards right there in the middle of the dance floor. "Ow. That hurt,"
London said, pouting as she shook her hand. "Wow, London. Thanks," I replied. "Come on. Let's get out of here," Sabine said, putting
her arm around me. "I don't get it," I said as we shoved our way through the crowd of curious onlookers who were now surrounding
Dominic. "He was so nice earlier." "Bad drunk," Vienna theorized, giving me a squeeze from the opposite side. "I'm sure he didn't
mean any of that." "Right." She had a point. I knew from experience that people could turn into monsters when they were under the
influence. Look at Thomas. My mother. Even me. Would I have hooked up with Dash that night if it hadn't been for all those drinks? I
hoped not. I hoped that my sober self was better than that.
"So. Guess we're scratching Dominic off the list," Vienna said, placing our coat-check tags down at the counter near the front of
the club. "Unless you can keep him sober." "Not likely," I replied, forcing a laugh. Besides, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to for-
get the things he'd just said, drunk or not. Dominic might have been the perfect arm candy of a Billings president on the surface, but he
was clearly not for me. Besides, I didn't want any of Cheyenne Martin's sloppy seconds, which apparently meant most of Ketlar was
off the table. It was amazing how these boys kept reinforcing what a catch Josh had been. Amazing and really, really annoying.
* * *
The moment we walked through the doors of Barneys New York the next morning, the Twin Cities took off like a pair of sugar ad-
dicts who'd just been let loose at a chocolate factory. I glanced at Noelle and Sabine and laughed. "Looks like we're on our own." Now
please just don't kill each other. That morning over an early br
unch, we called the St. Sebastian and booked it for the fund-raiser din-
ner and auction. Noelle hadn't been all that happy about it, but she had agreed with me in the end. Then we had called Kiki and Astrid
to give them the dates and told them to send out the e-mail invites ASAP. Now, everything in place, it was time for a little retail ther-
apy. The Billings Girls' therapy of choice. We strolled through the main floor with its wide walkways and gleaming glass counters,
and then down the stairs to the beauty department. Noelle wandered off toward the makeup counters to check out a few things, and I
was hit with a whiff of perfume. I paused and looked over at an anorexic-looking woman dressed in a formfitting black suit who was
offering samples of some new scent. The cash I'd been given by the Billings alumni was currently burning a hole in my Chloe bag,
and I had never bought myself perfume before. Could I possibly spend my green on something so decadent?
Why not? This was my weekend of freedom. I could do whatever I wanted. "I'm going to go try out some perfume," I told Sabine.
"I'll come with you," she replied. As if I ever thought she was going to go after Noelle. After assaulting my senses with fifteen ridicu-
lously strong scents, I chose a clean, invigorating perfume called, appropriately, Free, and barely broke a sweat handing over the many
bills I needed to shell out for the tiny bottle. The moment the transaction was done, my iPhone rang, and Vienna's picture came up.
"What's up?" I asked. "Max out your credit already?" She ignored my joke. "Where are you bitches? We're trying on dresses. Get your
butts up here!" she shouted.
"Guess we're going to try on dresses," I told Sabine and Noelle, who had just joined us with a small bag from La Mer. "Sounds like
a plan," she said. She glanced at my bag. "I can't believe I'm actually in Barneys," Sabine breathed, looking around as we ascended the
escalator. I glanced at Noelle, knowing some obnoxious comment was right on the tip of her tongue. She caught my look, and instead
of saying whatever she wanted to say, she looked away. Huh. Maybe Noelle was starting to get bored of teasing Sabine. Or maybe
whatever she and Dash had done last night had left her in such a good mood that her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't returned to our suite
until this morning. Clench. Okay. Not thinking about that. We found London and Vienna in the spacious dressing room off the couture
section on five, being waited on by two very eager assistants. From the looks of their rooms, they had already tried on several dresses
and sorted them into racks of "yes's" and "no's."
"Oooh! What'd you get?" London asked, grabbing at me and Noelle and our little Barneys bags. "Perfume," I said, as she pulled
out the bottle so she and Vienna could inspect it. Vienna spritzed it and smiled. "Nice. Very bold. Very you." "Thanks," I said, beam-
ing as I reclaimed the expensive bottle. They seemed much less interested in Noelle's face cream. "Have you guys found anything
yet?" "We found something for you !" London announced, shoving a gold minidress at me. "You have to try this one on! With your
legs and butt, the guys will go catatonic when they see you." At the mention of my butt I froze. I saw Noelle check it out in the mirror.
Was she thinking of Dash? Wondering if he'd ever noticed it? Wondering if she'd been wrong about our flirtation being so very inno-
cent? "She's right. You'll look hot in that," Noelle said finally. She slipped out of her coat and glanced at one of the hovering workers.
"Bring me something sophisticated and black. Only black," she told them.
"Right away, Miss Lange," the girl said. Of course she knew Noelle's name. "We have some fabulous new things you'll just adore."
"I'm sure I will," Noelle replied, taking a seat on the velvet chair in the corner. And adore them she did, considering she bought five of
them. After trying on practically everything in the store, London and Vienna went home with two new dresses each. I bought the gold
one, which basically made me look runway-worthy. It put another dent in my cash, but it was totally worth it. Noelle kept urging me
to use the Billings Alumni Fund instead, since the dress was for the fund-raiser, but I didn't feel right about it. Sabine, meanwhile,
snapped up a Marc Jacobs on sale. Even though she came from money like the rest of the Billings Girls, her family had actually taught
her frugality. Go figure.
Afterward, we hit the CO-OP on the top floor, where the Twin Cities stocked up on more pairs of jeans than any two people could
ever wear in a lifetime, and I splurged on a funky BCBG sweater that cost more than my mother brought home each week from her
new job at Target. I could get used to this having-money thing. Although the wad was rapidly dwindling at this point. Perhaps I'd re-
ceive a new stash at Christmas or something. I'd have to hold out hope. By the time we returned to our waiting limo, we were so load-
ed down with bags, they didn't all fit in the trunk. We had to squeeze a few in between us on the seats. I let out a sigh as I dropped
back against the cool leather, feeling tired, but in a very self-satisfied way. "That was a productive weekend," Noelle said as the chauf-
feur closed the door behind us. "Yeah, for American Express!" Vienna joked, shoving some bags into the corner near the partition.
"Back to Easton, then? " I said with a smile, happy to discover that I was actually looking forward to getting back there. This week-
end really had been like a vacation. I felt so much more relaxed and happy. Like everything was going to be all right. That retail ther-
apy always did the trick. "Back to Easton," Noelle replied. "Drew! We're ready!" she shouted at her driver. "Noelle, whip out those
Prada boots you got again so I can drool over them," London said, scooting forward in her seat as Drew edged into traffic. "If you in-
sist," Noelle said smugly, pulling the box out.
London delicately lifted one of the black leather boots from the tissue inside the box and hugged it. "Omigod. I want to marry these
boots!" "I don't know why you didn't just get a pair for yourself," Noelle said. London scowled and handed the coveted boot back. "I
tried them on, but they pinched my feet." "Of course they did, Ms. Big Foot. You totally need that surgery where they pare down your
tootsies," Vienna said. "Ew! Vienna!" I exclaimed. "What? Her feet are as wide as a duck's. Seriously! Have you not noticed? Here!
I'll show you!" Vienna exclaimed, grabbing one of London's legs and lifting it onto her lap. She tugged at the lace of one of London's
Coach booties and tried to pry it off. "Leave my monster feet alone!" London squealed, giggling as she tried to squirm from Vienna's
grasp. "No! The world needs to know about your deformity!" Vienna said with a faux cackle.
We were all laughing as Drew pulled the car out onto the FDR. Then, suddenly, all five of our phones beeped and sang in near uni-
son. Everyone scrambled in their bags, but my phone was hidden somewhere at the bottom of my Chloe. Vienna was the first to un-
earth her cell. "Omigod!" London and Vienna blurted in unison. They were both gaping down at Vienna's screen, looking ashen, Lon-
don's legs still hooked over Vienna's. "What?" I asked, sitting up straight again. "What's wrong?" "The cops just dragged Ivy off for
questioning!" London said, her eyes wide. My heart started to pound. They had come for her. They had finally come for her. "About
Cheyenne?" Sabine asked, glancing at me with concern. Vienna swallowed and nodded. "There must be new evidence or something.
They've actually reopened the case as a possible murder." Everything inside of me deflated. We sat there in stunned si
lence, letting the
true meaning of this sink in. Possible murder. Another murder. There could very well be a killer somewhere on campus. Again. Even
though I had known this was a possibility, I still felt as if I was hearing the news for the first time. I guess I had been hoping it would
all just go away. Now that hope had been dashed. I looked up at Noelle, my skin cold. She stared grimly back. We were going to have
to go through this. Again.
* * *
Later that night Constance, Rose, Tiffany, and I walked into the solarium together. I hadn't seen the place so dead in months, not
since Coffee Carma opened. But that night the place was so hushed it could have been a museum. People were talking--of course they
were talking--but they were talking in whispers. Paranoid, frightened whispers.
It was all too familiar. Too eerily, skin-tinglingly familiar. Cheyenne's death was bad enough. But Cheyenne's possible murder? It
had left the place grim. I wanted to tell them all what I knew--that Cheyenne's grieving parents had asked for the investigation and that
the police weren't 100 percent behind it--but I couldn't. Not without everyone knowing that I had been the one to visit with the cops
last week. I glanced right and saw Josh alone at a table with a book open in front of him. He was looking at me but quickly looked
away. What did that mean? "I really don't believe this is happening," Constance said under her breath, clinging to the sleeves of her
white sweater. As we wove our way around the cafe tables and couches, every eye in the room was on us. The Billings Girls. Once
again we were at the center of a murder investigation.
"How could it have been murder?" Tiffany whispered. "We were all there. We all saw her. She took pills. There was no violence,
no struggle. She wrote a note. I don't understand." Two notes, actually. But there was no need for them to know that. "Well, clearly
the police have something or they wouldn't be questioning all these people," Rose said. Her normally healthy skin looked waxy under
her red ringlets. "I just can't imagine it. She must have been so scared. Why didn't she call for help? Why didn't she--" Rose's voice
broke and she covered her face with her sleeve, which was pulled down over her hand. Tiffany put her arm around her and shot me a
sad look. "We'll go get a table," she said.
My insides quaked as Constance and I joined the short line at the counter. I wanted to squirm to try to make this awful feeling go
away, but I knew it wouldn't work. This feeling wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No point in letting half the school see me fid-
gety and nervous and scared in the meantime. "I hate this. I hate it," Constance said, hugging herself tighter. She leaned closer to me
as the worker behind the counter fired up the foam maker. "Do you realize that someone in this room might have killed her? Might
have snuck right into our dorm while we were all asleep and killed Cheyenne? I can't handle this." I was about to respond when the al-
ready quiet vibe went deathly still. As if someone had just hit the mute button on the sound track of our lives. Startled by the sudden
silence, I turned around. Ivy stood in the doorway, looking like a rabid pit bull ready to strike.
No one moved. They had let her go. The police had let her go. Her blue eyes found me in the crowd. "You," she said under her