Revelation

  "And don't tell me. You feel you need to be living in Billings to properly protect me, right?" She let

  out a short, incredulous laugh.

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  "You're really grasping at straws here, Reed. And desperation, by the way, is not becoming."

  "Noelle--"

  "I don't need your protection, Glass-Licker. I don't need anything from you," she said, crossing her

  arms over her chest. "You know what I think? I think you must have way too much time on your

  hands over at Pemberly if you're making up stories like this. Way too much time."

  Her smile was mocking. She knew I had been watching her through the window on Sunday night.

  She knew just how pathetic and lonely I was.

  "I'm not making this up," I said, needing her to understand. "I'm worried about you."

  "Well, thanks for the tip," she replied blithely. "I'll make sure to keep an eye out for a wannabe

  loser wielding pills."

  She turned to go again and I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to, but I had to. It was blackmail

  time.

  "You're wrong," I said to her. "You do need me."

  Her shoulders slumped dramatically as she turned to me once more. "Oh, really? And why's that?

  Are you going to teach me all about the ins and outs of NASCAR?"

  "A dig at my Middle America upbringing. How original," I said sarcastically. I pulled the Chloe bag

  out from behind my book bag and dropped it on one of the small Coffee Carma tables.

  "Remember the disc that came with this?"

  Noelle hesitated. This time I knew I had her. She had not been expecting this.

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  "Yes," she said slowly. "I believe you destroyed it right in front of my face."

  I stared straight into her eyes and just prayed she wouldn't be able to tell that what I was about to

  say was a complete lie.

  "I made a copy. How stupid do you think I am?" I said.

  Inside I knew exactly how stupid I was, but she didn't need to know that. She studied my face, and

  I made sure not to blink.

  "I still have it, Noelle," I said. "I can zap that information to the entire school, to the entire Easton

  community--alumni and parents included--at any time. Everything there is to know about you and

  all my Billings sisters. Out there for all the world to read and enjoy."

  Noelle's expression was baffled, incredulous. I had her. I so, so had her.

  "Are you trying to blackmail me?" she said merrily. "That is so cute!"

  Okay. So maybe I didn't have her.

  Her dig got right under my skin. I was losing control of this thing. Losing big time. But I wasn't

  about to give up just yet.

  "Let me back in Billings, Noelle," I said under my breath. "Let me back in or I'll do it. I'll e-mail all

  the files to everyone we know."

  Noelle narrowed her brown eyes. "Go ahead," she said. "There's nothing on there that I'm

  ashamed of. And as for the others, if they have skeletons, that's their problem. Go ahead and send

  it. The aftermath might actually be fun."

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  "So you're saying you'd rather have all your housemates and friends humiliated--in some cases

  devastated--than let me back in," I said, disbelieving.

  Noelle smiled ever so slowly, causing my heart to drop to my toes.

  "Yes, Reed. That is exactly what I'm saying."

  149

  MINI ARIANA

  I was getting nowhere. With Noelle, with Josh, with my schoolwork. That night I sat at a table on

  the first floor of the library, staring straight ahead at the spines of the books on the opposite shelf.

  Didn't even try to pretend I was studying. There was no way I could concentrate.Noelle was never

  going to let me back into Billings. Josh was never going to let me back into his life. And no one

  other than Marc would believe what I knew to be true about Ivy. I might as well just flunk out of

  school. What could possibly be the point of staying here anyway?

  "Hi, Reed."

  Sabine slipped into the chair across from mine and glanced at my textbook. "English? Good. I'm so

  behind in English. Want to work together?"

  I looked at her eager face, her hair pulled back in a thick French braid, and sighed. "Sure. But I

  need to refuel. I'm just going to go get

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  some chocolate." I grabbed my wallet from my bag and stood up. "You want anything?"

  "No, thanks," Sabine said cheerily. So cheerily I was starting to wonder if she thought she could

  raise my mood by osmosis. So far, not working. But I applauded her effort.

  I walked along the wall to the little alcove where the vending machines were housed and waited

  while a pock-faced boy selected his candy bar of choice. When he turned and saw me, he started

  visibly then slid away from me like I was on fire. I shook my head and started to feed my coins into

  the machine. People really were just so juvenile.

  "Hello, Glass-Licker."

  Amberly Carmichael strode into the alcove and leaned one shoulder up against the vending

  machine, so close I could smell the minty freshness of her breath. She wore a pristine white

  sweater coat with a faux fur collar and that aqua blue scarf around her neck. Her blue eyes

  narrowed as she stared me down. Even up close, her resemblance to Ariana was enough to chill

  my bones.

  "You don't get to call me that," I said through my teeth.

  "Actually, I think I can call you whatever I want," she said. "You've become that insignificant. It

  would be sad, really, if you didn't deserve it."

  I simply stared at her. I was so stunned by her audacity, I couldn't even begin to address it.

  "Listen, Reed." She said my name as if its four letters polluted her mouth. "I heard everything you

  said to Noelle this morning. You

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  should really work on your blackmail voice," she said, lowering her own voice to a near whisper. "I

  know about the disc. And if you think for one second that I am going to let you make any of that

  information public, you are sorely mistaken."

  Laughter bubbled from my lips. "Oh, am I?"

  A cold, angry look flashed across Amberly's face and my heart halted. Ariana. So Ariana. "I would

  do anything to protect my Billings sisters."

  Even as my mind drew the disturbing comparisons between this nut job and the other, I had to

  laugh again. I couldn't help it. Whatever airs she was trying to put on, whoever she was trying to

  morph into, this little upstart had been in Billings for a few days. I had been there for over a year.

  Those girls were more my sisters than they would ever be hers.

  "I'm glad you think this is so hilarious," Amberly said, putting her hands behind her back. "But I

  want that disc, and if you don't get it to me by tomorrow evening, you are going to be very sorry."

  I could just imagine what amounted to consequences in Amberly's world. "What're you going to

  do? Throw a Build-A-Bear at my head like your little friend did to you?"

  For a split second the old, wide-eyed Amberly was back. Clearly she was caught off guard by my

  insight into her personal life. Noelle would have been so proud of me. If she'd been at all inclined

  to feel for me anymore.

  "Gee, Amberly, thanks for the warning," I said, seizing my moment. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out

  for flying stuffed animals."

  152

  I started to walk away, feeling rather good about myself, but her hand shot out and grasped my

&n
bsp; arm.

  "The bill," she said, holding a yellow slip of paper up in front of my face. "For the dry cleaning."

  Bitch. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

  "You can give me the money tomorrow when you give me the disc," she said with a smirk.

  She sidled out of the alcove just as Sabine walked in. Sabine looked at me, clearly sensing the thick

  tension in the air.

  "Hi, Sabine," Amberly said brightly as she passed her roommate by.

  "Hi," Sabine replied hesitantly. "What was that about?" she asked me the moment Amberly was

  gone. She glanced at the dry-cleaning slip in my hand.

  "Her bill," I said, holding it up. "For the dry cleaning."

  The thin paper trembled in my hand. I was bubbling with anger.

  "No. I thought she was kidding," Sabine said, incredulous. "You're not going to pay it, are you?"

  "Um, no," I replied, crumpling the receipt and shoving it into the pocket of my jeans. "I really don't

  like that girl."

  "Join the club," Sabine said, slipping by me to feed some cash into the candy machine. "I decided I

  needed some chocolate after all. What do you want? "

  "Nothing, thanks," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm good."

  Chocolate was no longer needed. The adrenaline rush should keep me going for at least an hour.

  And if I never saw mini Ariana again, it would be way too soon.

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  DE JA VOMIT

  I trudged back to my room later that night, my body weary, my eyes at half-mast. I had stayed at

  the library far longer than I had intended, and I could still feel the hard, uncomfortable library

  chair pressing into the small of my back. My brain hurt from the number of literary characters and

  motives and plots Sabine and I had re-crammed in there, and my fingers had atrophied from

  taking notes. The good news was, I was so tired, I would probably pass out in about five minutes.

  There would be no lying awake staring at the ceiling and letting the cold, suffocating blanket of

  loneliness overcome me. No obsessing about my tiny single and everything it represented. No

  fretting about pills and X'd-out photos and other morbid gifties.But then, in the dimly lit, carpeted

  Pemberly hallway, about five steps away from my room, a familiar scent tingled my nostrils. I

  froze. My heart seized with fear and I tried to breathe through my mouth, but it was no good. The

  smell was so strong I could taste it.

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  Cheyenne's perfume. The sickly sweet floral scent of Fleur. It filled my senses. Someone had

  sprayed it all over the hall.

  No. No, not again. Not again. Of all the presents my stalker had left me, this was always the most

  haunting, the most visceral, the most... Cheyenne.

  I stared at the closed door of my room. Someone on the floor was listening to Bach at top volume.

  My head started to pound along with the racing tempo.

  Run. Just run. Don't go in there. Nothing good can come of going in there.But where else did I have

  to go?

  Trembling from head to foot, I stepped over to my door. Placed my hand around the cold

  doorknob. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer. That I was just imagining things. That my room

  would be exactly as I had left it. And then I pushed the door open and flipped the light on in one

  quick motion.

  One look at what lay before me and I staggered backward. My vision blurred and I had to brace my

  hands on my knees to keep from buckling over.

  "No." The word escaped my lips. "No, no, no."

  Somewhere on the floor a door slammed. Startled, I clung to the cold metal of the doorjamb and

  pressed my hot face against it, my eyes wildly scanning my room. Why was this happening to me?

  Why?

  My bed had been stripped, the comforter balled up on the floor, the pillows uncased and tossed at

  the foot of the bed. The sheets trailed across the floor. Crushed into the throw rug in the center

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  of the room--the brand-new, cheery throw rug Sabine had given me--were dozens and dozens of

  blush beads. Pink and brown powder everywhere.

  I started to hyperventilate, breathing in the scent of Cheyenne's perfume until it started to poison

  my brain. Cheyenne. She had done this to me that first day of chores last year. That day I had been

  woken from my bed in Billings and forced to do whatever the residents asked of me. Cheyenne

  had told me she liked her pillows fluffed, her sheets tight. And when I had talked back to her, she

  had crushed an entire pot of blush beads into her white and green flowered rug. She'd demanded I

  clean it up.

  Suddenly, my dinner decided to make a reappearance. I turned away from my room and fled for

  the bathroom. I dropped my book bag in the hallway and clawed off my coat. My knees hit the

  hard tile in the first stall just in time. Everything I had eaten in the past five hours came right back

  up. Tears streamed from my eyes as I retched. Luckily the bathroom was empty. Thank goodness

  for small favors.

  Finally, I sat back on my butt and flushed the toilet. I wiped my hand across my mouth and nose

  and dried my tears, shaking uncontrollably. My temples were pounding, my vision blurred.

  My stalker had sunk to a new low. That had been one of the worst mornings of my life, and my

  first real introduction to Cheyenne. Seeing those blush beads brought her back to me more vividly

  than any of the other pranks and plants I had endured--even more than the perfume. Whoever

  was doing this really was trying to drive me crazy.

  And maybe they were succeeding. A girl could only take so much.

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  I pressed my palms into the cool tile at my sides and pushed myself up. I cleared my throat as I

  stepped tentatively from the stall and around the partial wall that separated the toilets from the

  sinks and showers. There I found out I was not, in fact, alone. Ivy stood at one of the sinks, smiling

  happily at me.

  "Okay, that was disgusting," she said to me, shouldering her bag. "Bulimia is so last century, Reed.

  Next time you want to toss your cookies, do it in the privacy of your own room. That's what plastic

  trash cans are for."

  Then she turned and sailed out of the room, her nose in the air. I stared at myself in the mirror

  above the sink, my eyes rimmed in red, my nose all puffed up. And just like that I felt another

  wave of nausea. Because Ivy could not have pulled off this particular prank. She hadn't even been

  here last year. There was no way she could have known about my first chore day. No way she

  could have known what Cheyenne had done to me. I gripped the sides of the sink and stared into

  my own terrified eyes.

  All this time I had been so sure that it was Ivy. But the only people who knew about what had

  happened that morning were Billings Girls.

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  * * *

  After scrubbing the rug in the sink, remaking the bed, and cracking open my window to clear the

  smell (which took all my strength and about twenty minutes of struggling against years of paint

  buildup), I finally crawled into bed. Then I lay there wide awake, shivering against the cold

  streaming through the screen, petrified to close my eyes.

  If not Ivy, then who? If not Ivy, then who? Who would want to torture me like this? I had plenty of

  enemies now, sure, but when all of this had started, there'd been no one. No one but Ivy, who

  hated everyone
in Billings. Or Ariana, of course, but she was locked up somewhere. If it wasn't Ivy,

  then I was at a loss. If it wasn't her, then it could be anyone.

  If only I could talk to Noelle. She would know what to do. She would know exactly how to sniff out

  my stalker, how to catch the person in the act or smoke them out or something. At the very least

  she could

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  talk me down. Make me feel better about the situation. Make me feel above it all. Make me feel

  safe.

  But that was never going to happen. Noelle was never going to forgive me. I was on my own.

  As I stared at the swirls in the crumbly stucco ceiling, a thousand thoughts whirled in my head, but

  one kept squirming its way to the forefront.

  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.

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  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.

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  ROSE AND IVY

  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