gone. I looked like a sad clown who'd been caught in a rainstorm. Scary. Freakish. Insane.
How was I going to do this? How was I going to pull this night off while feeling like I was about to lose my mind? I stared into my
puffy eyes and took a deep breath. Outside, the Billings Girls were chatting happily, my frantic moment clearly forgotten. "You have
to do this, Reed. For them. For Billings," I told myself, even as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. "You can get fitted for your strait-
jacket later."
* * *
Noelle had been right all along. Loft Blanc was the perfect location for this event. It was simple. Minimal. Clean. Glamorous. And
with the champagne flowing, the chatter filling the room, and the Twin Cities' model brigade circulating in skimpy clothes with their
placid expressions, it was all like one decadent work of moving art. I saw all this. Processed it. But couldn't appreciate it. All I could
think about was the perfume. The next time I saw Ivy I was going to make her confess. And then I was going to kick her ass. Enough
was enough. "Reed! Congratulations! This event is a smash hit!" Susan Llewelyn said, stopping by to double air-kiss me. Susan was
one of the few Billings alumnae I actually knew. "Thanks," I said, surprised to see her. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course!" she
said, taking a sip of her champagne and tossing her short blond hair back. "Where were you the day the board met to go over our
case?" I asked. "We could have used a friend on the other side."
Susan blinked and her ever-present smile briefly faltered. I got the distinct feeling she thought I had just overstepped my bounds.
And maybe I had. But didn't I deserve to know? "The board felt that my presence would be a conflict of interest," she said smoothly.
"And to be honest, I thought it might be a good idea for me to lie low, considering my part in the whole Gwendolyn mess." "I see." In
other words, she hadn't wanted to be forced to take responsibility for telling us how to get off campus--for leading us to the Gwen-
dolyn secret passageway in the first place. Suddenly, the level of respect I'd always felt for Suzel dropped a notch. "Oh! I see an old
friend! Gotta go!" she said gaily. As she hastily scurried off, I wondered if anyone was ever what they seemed. So far, most of the
people I had met at Easton had turned out to have at least two faces. Some many more.
"Champagne?" Marc asked, suddenly arriving at my side.
He pressed the cool flute against my bare shoulder and I smiled. For a November night, it was rather warm in here, and I was happy
I had chosen something skimpy from Noelle's collection. It was a black, halter- style swing dress with subtle pleats that fell a few
inches above the knee. "Thanks," I said, smiling as I took the champagne flute from him. "Have I told you how amazing you look
tonight?" Marc asked. He looked pretty amazing himself in his rented tux with its long, cocoa brown tie. "You don't have to say that,"
I told him, downing half the champagne in one gulp. "I know I don't. I wanted to," Marc said with a genuine smile. "Reed. There you
are! We've been looking all over for you," Hunter Braden said, appearing before me. He reached out and squeezed my elbow as if he
hadn't been the rudest date in history and I hadn't walked out on him. Hunter had gone with a tux and an open-collared shirt, and blond
scruff lined his cheeks and chin. Very rogue millionaire. "My mother was dying to meet you. Harper Braden, this is Reed Brennan.
She organized this event."
"Mrs. Braden," I said, trying to be warm even though her son basically sucked. "Always a pleasure to meet a Billings alum." Her
blue eyes widened, though I wasn't sure how that was possible, considering she looked as if she had just been shot up with ten vials of
Botox in the past hour. Her face was a puffy mask, stretched to its limits around full lips and heavily lined eyes. "You know your an-
cient history!" she exclaimed. "Glad to hear it. It's so good to finally meet you." She shook my hand, unsnapped her vintage clutch
purse, and extracted a small envelope, which she discreetly handed to me. "For the cause," she said "Thank you," I replied. Luckily,
Cromwell had only said we couldn't accept money from Billings alums for preparations, not for the fund-raising itself. "Good luck
tonight. Not that you'll need it," she added; then she looked past me. "Oh! Is that Rinnan Hearst? I must go say hello!" The mention of
the familiar name caused my heart to stop.
I whipped around and there was the famous actress Rinnan Hearst, Cheyenne's stepmother, standing near the wall holding court
with Cheyenne's father. One look at his handsome face, his sad eyes, the mournful lines permanently etched around them, and the
room started to spin. "Wow. You really are the woman of the evening," Marc said as a few more people stopped by to congratulate
me. People to whom I couldn't even respond. The heavy perfume and sweaty palms assaulted me, and my body temperature skyrock-
eted. Cheyenne's dad was here. Cheyenne's devastated father. One of the two people who had insisted on reopening her case. Mem-
ories assaulted me from every angle. Memories of the way he had barely been able to speak to us on the day of her funeral. Of how
he'd fallen to his knees when they released her ashes. He had loved her so much. I could only imagine what it must be like for him,
standing in a room full of his daughter's friends, knowing that by all rights she should be there too, chatting and laughing and flirting.
Was he wondering who among us might have murdered his daughter? Who might have taken his one and only child from him?
"I have to get out of here," I heard myself say. "I need some air." "Reed--" I took one step toward the door and froze. Josh had just
walked in. Josh. My savior. My rock. Looking gorgeous in his tux with his curls all askew. Just the sight of him made my heart leap.
Why was he here? He hated Billings. Had he come for me? To support me? Marc was saying something. Had his hand on my wrist as
if to calm me. But I couldn't even hear him or feel him or see him. All I saw was Josh. What I wouldn't give to have him back. To feel
him hold me. To hear him tell me everything was going to be okay. I felt the longing in my gut, my heart, my skin. So acute it was
painful. Suddenly I knew that was what I needed. Not to find someone else to replace him. Not to pick out the perfect specimen to
make him jealous. That had all been so petty. So stupid. So vindictive. No. More than anything, I needed him. Josh was all that mat-
tered. He would make it all right.
All I wanted was to hear his voice. "Josh!" I shouted, not caring that half the room could hear me. "Josh!"
He smiled, but not at me. Smiled at someone coming toward him from his left. The crowd shifted and I saw her. Ivy Slade. Dressed
in pure, ironic white. Smiling as Josh took her hand. And the walls crashed in around me. "What is she doing here?" I snapped ven-
omously. "Who?" Marc was thoroughly confused at this point. "After everything she's done..." I was shaking from head to foot from
unadulterated anger. How dare she come here tonight? How dare she? "Reed? Who are you talking about?" He followed my gaze and
must have spotted Ivy. "Oh. Yeah. That's not good," he said, knowing Ivy was the leader of the anti- Billings brigade. "She. Cannot.
Be here." I started forward, my eyes trained on Ivy. I was going to throw her out. I didn't care if she'd paid to get in. She was the en-
emy. "If I can have your attention, please?" Tiffany said into the microphone on our small, makeshift stage.
People started to quiet, to turn. I stayed my course. I was on a mission. "My name is Tiffany Goulbour
ne, and I'd just like to start
out by thanking everyone for coming out tonight." I was ten steps away. Ten steps away from vindication. From revenge. And then,
Josh pulled Ivy to him--pulled her whole body into his--ran his hand over her cheek, and leaned in to kiss her like there was no one
else in the room. I stopped moving. Stopped breathing. Stopped being. Her eyes fluttered closed. He deepened the kiss, his fingertips
now resting lightly on her shoulder. So it was true. They were together. I had been so hoping it was all a lie. Some out-of-control ru-
mor with a life of its own. So much for hope. My heart took over. Took over my whole body. Pounding and slamming and panicking.
Those were my hands. My lips. My fingertips. My tongue. My body. He was mine. Mine, mine, mine.
And yet there he was right in front of me, giving himself to her. "And now I'd like to bring up the person who is responsible for this
fabulous event!" Tiffany's voice boomed through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, Reed Brennan!"
AND THE WINNER IS
I couldn't move. Could not make my limbs bend. Josh and Ivy pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes, their mutual affection
blatant, and all I could do was watch. My head swam. The floor heaved beneath my feet. I was going to faint. Actually going to faint.
"Reed? Where are you, Reed? I know you're out there somewhere!" Tiffany chided, earning polite laughter from the crowd. Marc
stepped up behind me and nudged my arm. "Reed, you have to go. They're waiting for you." Then Ivy turned and looked up at the
stage. She whispered something to Josh and was off, weaving her way with determination through the maze of waiters and guests and
models. Where was she going? But wait, who cared? Josh was alone now. All that mattered was-- "Reed! Let's go!" Suddenly the
Twin Cities had me by either arm and were walking me toward Tiffany. The moment I moved, my knees gave out and they had to
hold me up for a few steps. The people right around us stared, probably thinking I was drunk. But all I could think about was Josh and
Ivy. Josh and Ivy. Josh and Ivy.
How could he kiss her? How could he look at her like that? And at my event. He was supposed to love me. How could he ever look
at anyone else that way? It wasn't fair. Didn't he know how evil she was? What she was capable of? He couldn't have known. Would
never be with her if he did. I had to tell him the truth about her. I had to tell him that I needed him. I needed-- "Hello, everyone! My
name is Ivy Slade and I'm here to tell you all, well, why you're really here." The Twin Cities stopped abruptly and we all gaped up at
the stage. Somehow Ivy had gotten the microphone away from Tiffany and was now addressing the rapt crowd. "This is not a fund-
raiser for Easton Academy," Ivy said quickly, vehemently. "It's a PR job for Billings House. You remember Billings House. That tall
dorm on the edge of campus where lived the most awful girls at the academy?"
There were a few chuckles. The rest of the Billings Girls, who were dotted throughout the room, started to mobilize. Tiffany, who
until now had been standing aside looking baffled, reached for the microphone, but Ivy dodged her and slid away.
"You know those girls who always seemed to get away with everything that no one else could get away with? The girls who wield-
ed their power and money over the school as if they were running the place?" Ivy continued, pacing. "Well, guess what? This year
they were finally caught. They were finally going to be brought to justice. But shocker of all shockers, they wrangled a deal. If they
make five million dollars tonight, their precious house will not be dissolved, as it should have been long ago. See, they're using people
again to get what they want. More specifically, they're using you and your hard-earned money to save their own skins. Is that what you
want? Haven't the Billings Girls done enough damage already?"
My heart was in my toes. First Josh and now this. I looked wildly around at the esteemed guests and tried to find Josh. Tried to see
his reaction to this, to see if he'd known this was coming, but I was unable to focus on any one face. All I could see was a lot of nod-
ding and pinched expressions. All I could hear were knowing whispers. Her words were hitting home. This was working. Her evil plan
was working. "Reed! Do something!" Vienna said through her teeth. "You have to get up there. Stop her," London added, letting go of
my arm. But I was frozen. My throat was dry. My head a complete fog. "I... I can't. I can't." This was it. This was the beginning of my
nervous breakdown. Ivy had won. She had won Josh. She had destroyed Billings. Destroyed me. And I was so shaken, so broken, so
crushed, that I couldn't think of a single word to stop her. "For years, the women of Billings have been making our lives a living hell,"
Ivy continued, "but we can end this now. Don't give them your money! Don't support the hypocrisy!"
"Omigod, enough. Reed! You have to shut her up," Vienna said Then she shoved me forward so hard I almost tripped into the
stairs that led to the stage. Tiffany couldn't have looked more relieved to see me, but Ivy simply smirked. "Oh, look, it's Reed Bren-
nan, president of Billings," she said as she sneered down her nose at me. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm dying to hear
what she has to say in her defense." Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to me. I was frozen in terror. "Come on up, Reed! What are you
waiting for?" Ivy descended two steps, grabbed my arm, and dragged me up next to her, practically dislocating my shoulder. She
shoved the microphone into my hand and stepped back. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I stared out at the crowd, but all I
could see were Josh's lips on Ivy's, Cheyenne's dead body on the floor, her name in my in-box ten thousand times over, the note, the
black marbles, the perfume bottle, the stain on the sleeve of the pink sweater. All of it. All of it reeled through my mind at a sickening
speed. I was so dizzy, so disoriented, so confused, I actually reached for Ivy for support, but she flinched away and I almost went
down. "Oops. I think our hostess might be a little buzzed," Ivy shouted, amused.
Somehow I righted myself, but the laughter her comment elicited stung every inch of my skin. What was I doing here? Why were
all these people looking to me? I didn't belong here. I was nobody. I was just a loser from Pennsylvania who had been dumped and
stalked and nearly driven out of my mind This was it. This was where it all fell apart. "I'm sorry," I blurted out of nowhere. "I'm sorry,
I--" And then a strong hand came down on my shoulder. I sensed it was Noelle before I even saw her. She reached around me, slipped
the microphone right out of my hand, and stepped to the front of the stage. "Thank you, Ivy, for the unplanned entertainment," she be-
gan with a smile, coaxing out a few laughs from the crowd. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Noelle Lange, and I am a senior
at Easton Academy and at Billings House. I just want to go on the record as saying that almost everything Ivy has just told you... is
true."
There were a few gasps and some stunned silence. No one was expecting that. I stepped back and hugged my now freezing-cold
arms. Watched her as if I was watching a film, a play--something from which I was completely detached. "Our living arrangements
were put in jeopardy due to some unfortunate incidents earlier this year, true, and it is also true that we asked Headmaster Cromwell
for a second chance," Noelle continued. "He agreed that the best way for us to prove our loyalty to Easton would be for us to throw a
fund-raiser for the school and
so, here we are. Just to clear things up, you should know that any money you donate this evening will be
going directly to the Easton Academy board of trustees, to be used at their discretion. Billings will have no further involvement with
the funds." She glanced at Ivy, who looked angry enough to spit. But she stayed where she was, as if waiting for her next opening. Not
that Noelle was about to give her one. "Now, as for the accusations about the behavior of the Billings Girls, all I can say is, Ivy is
right," Noelle continued. "We have, in the past, used our power and position on campus to get the things we wanted, but all that has
changed this year. This year's new house members were chosen by the administration, not by the residents of Billings. They were cho-
sen for their academic merit, their service to the school, their morals and standards. They are the best of what Easton has to offer."
She looked down at our friends, who had now gathered in front of the stage, like a mother hen looking down at her freshly hatched
chicks. "They deserve a chance to make Billings what it should be," Noelle continued. "They shouldn't have to pay for the crimes,
whether real or perceived," she said, pointedly looking at Ivy, "of those of us who came before. "They are the new Billings, and the
new Billings is about sisterhood, about strength, about doing what's right and putting forth the best image we can for Easton," Noelle
continued. "That's where your hard-earned money is going tonight. To building a better Billings, a better Easton, a better future." She
paused and looked around the room, driving her message home to each and every member of her audience. "Are you really going to
let one misguided party crasher get in the way of all that?" she asked, lifting a blithe hand toward Ivy.
The laughter and applause filled the room this time, and we all knew. We all knew that Noelle had won. She handed the micro-
phone to Tiffany, who quickly squirreled it away. Ivy simply stood there, arms crossed in an indignant pose, until she finally shook
her head and made her retreat. The cheers were still echoing in my " head when Noelle turned to me. There was no way to express the
force of gratitude that was surging through my weakened body.
"Noelle, thank you so much," I gushed, a tear spilling down my cheek. "I didn't know what to do. I--" "Well, Glass-Licker. Looks
like I've saved your little fund-raiser twice now," Noelle interrupted, her eyes flashing. "I guess you were right all along. This is my
house." I felt like she had just slapped me across the face. "What?" I gasped. Noelle looked me up and down like I was some pile of
dog doo she'd just stepped in, and strode right past me. What was going on? Had she planned this all along? Had she booked the St.
Sebastian behind my back? Did she have the makeover and photo shoot plan up her sleeve from the beginning? Sabine was right.
Noelle had been working against me. And I had let her in. I had let myself believe she cared about me--that we were friends. But
Noelle had no idea what it meant to be a friend. All she cared about was herself. "How could you?" I blurted, whirling around. "How
could you do this to me?" Noelle paused and half turned. She had her iPhone in her hand and shook her head, laughing as she looked