Blake paced around the small couch and sat down on the edge of it. Dash didn't move, but I could see his chest rising and falling, like he was trying to contain something huge. I hoped that meditation thing was as good as he believed it to be. "Take this situation, for example," Blake continued, once he'd caught his breath. "Cara has refused to speak to me ever since the night of Josh's arrest. She's the love of my life and she won't even take a call from me. When I got that e-mail I thought..." He trailed off and my heart broke for him. Just a touch. He clearly loved Ms. Lewis-Hanneman, as strange as that seemed to me. It was obvious by the torment in his eyes. And all we'd done here was give him false hope. "Thomas is dead, and still he managed to fuck up the one good thing in my life," Blake said stoically. He stood up and turned to face me. "So to answer your question, no. I don't really care who killed him." My stomach heaved. I had to swallow a dozen times to keep down whatever was trying to come up. There was pity on Blake's face before he turned to Dash again.
"Are we done here?" he said. Dash said nothing. He'd gone catatonic. I knew the feeling. He didn't make any move to stop Blake as he slipped by him out the door. It wasn't until the outer door of Mitchell Hall slammed again that either one of us moved. I leaned back and slid down the wall until my butt hit the floor. "What just happened?" I croaked, unable to blink or turn or do anything but stare straight ahead. Straight at the spot where Blake had stood just moments ago. "I had no idea," Dash replied. "I always knew those two hated each other, but I thought it was just sibling-rivalry hate. Not real I-want-you-dead hate."
Dash sat down on the couch and hung his head in his hands. Our best hope to help Josh had just walked out the door and was probably already speeding south on Interstate 684. "What do we do now?" I said. Dash took a deep breath. "I have no idea."
KIND EAR
I hadn't spoken to Josh in nine days, and that was including him shouting to me across a crowded police station. Was he okay? Was he scared? Were they allowing his parents and his brothers and sisters to see him? Was he thinking about me? These questions occupied most of my brain space that Saturday night while I sat in front of the television in the parlor. Around me other Billings Girls studied, chatted, and laughed. Only a few, since most were upstairs getting ready for Noelle's off-campus romp. At least I had put to bed the question of whether or not I was going. The dirty-hair ponytail, ripped plaid pajama pants, and a Penn State sweatshirt had to be dead giveaways of my mood.
Part of me wished I could be up there with them. Wished I could be that carefree, thinking only about which shoes went with which dress and how to do my hair. I had just started to get into that stuff since meeting the Billings Girls and I missed it. I missed being able to enjoy those things. But I couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever again. "So, girls, which do you think is a better Christmas present for a new boyfriend with rock-star aspirations?" Cheyenne asked, bouncing into the room. She was wearing a red plaid skirt and a white ballet-neck top. Girl seemed to have an endless supply of season- appropriate outfits. "Backstage passes to the Fray and a meet-and- greet with the band, or three recording sessions in a state-of-the-art studio?"
"Recording sessions, definitely," Natasha replied, not looking up from her political science book. "The Fray doesn't fully qualify as 'rock,' anyway." "Who the heck are the Fray?" Rose added. Cheyenne blinked. "Both good points," she said, whipping out her gold-plated cell phone. "Studio time it is." Unbelievable. Adam Robinson had had a birthday over the summer when we'd been dating, and I'd gotten him a Philadelphia Flyers hat. On sale. Cheyenne quickly finished her business on the phone and sat down next to me. She smoothed her blond hair behind her shoulder and smiled in a friendly way. "So, Reed. How are you doing?" she asked, lightly touching my shoulder before bringing her elbow up to rest on the back of the couch. "Have you heard anything from Josh?" Natasha glanced up, probably as surprised as I was. Nobody had asked me this question. Nobody had asked me anything about Josh's arrest or how it was affecting me. Until that very moment everyone, including Natasha, who was probably my best friend in Billings at this point, had chosen to take the don't-ask-don't-tell tack. I was touched that she'd thought to ask, but at the same time didn't remotely want to answer.
"No," I said. "I guess he's not allowed to make phone calls, really." "You don't think he did it, do you?" she asked. "I know he didn't." "Good." She readjusted herself so that she was fully facing the TV and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. "The very idea that someone on this campus might have had something to do with it makes me wake up in a cold sweat some nights." I couldn't imagine Cheyenne sweating, let alone admitting to it.
"Did you think that he did do it?" Natasha asked. "No. I don't know," Cheyenne said. "I never knew either one of those guys very well, but Reed did. Does. Whatever. If she says he didn't do it, then I believe it." She flashed her perfectly straight, whitening-stripped smile, and I felt inexplicably warm. In a good way. "Now all we have to do is convince the rest of the world," I said. "What I want to know is when they're going to figure it out," Cheyenne said. "I just hope this doesn't turn into one of those unsolved-mystery things, because that would not be pleasant." I turned green at the thought and sank down lower in my seat. "They'll figure it out," Natasha said confidently. "They're just missing some piece of the puzzle. As soon as they find it, it'll all fall into place."
We heard the sound of voices and footsteps descending the stairs. Apparently Noelle and her troupe were ready for their big night. Cheyenne cleared her throat and faced forward, her back to the door, as Noelle, Ariana, Kiran, Vienna, London, and a couple other girls gathered there. The moment I saw them, dressed to the nines in silk and diamonds, teetering on their high heels and made up like movie stars, I almost caved. This was fabulousness personified. Wasn't this the reason I'd wanted to be friends with them in the first place? But I couldn't do it. There was a point to be made here. Plus there was too much risk. If I was caught where I wasn't supposed to be one more time, the dean would no longer be able to ignore it. Sneaking to the police station and to Hell Hall and the art cemetery was one thing--that was all for Josh. But this, this was just to get drunk and be seen. The only person I wanted to be seen by anymore was Josh Hollis. He was the only one who mattered.
"Well, we're off," Kiran said happily, lifting the slim strap on her red dress, which had fallen down over her shoulder. "Have fun getting caught," Natasha said under her breath. "Are you guys sure you want to do this?" I asked, turning in my seat. They really did look beautiful, standing there all in a row, all perfect skin and dramatic eyes and shimmering fabrics. "Are you sure you don't?" Noelle asked. "Because we can wait a few minutes if you'd like to run off and take your first shower of the week." There were a few snickers, which I ignored. "You do realize that if you get caught, we're all going to be in trouble," Cheyenne said flatly. "If we get caught, which we won't, nothing is going to happen," Noelle said, lifting her gold wristlet. "How long do you girls have to live in this dorm before you understand how it works?" "I don't know," Cheyenne said. "With everything that's been going on lately, I'm not sure the old rules apply." "Well, that's your problem then, isn't it?" Noelle said.
She walked over to the couch and leaned into it. "Reed, I'm not mad at you for last night, if that's what you're thinking. I know you're just stressed and overtired and you snapped. To be honest, I was actually kind of proud of you." "She thinks she's rubbing off," Kiran put in. I wasn't sure whether to feel sick or proud of that theory. I was more focused on how totally self-centered she was. Did she really think I wasn't coming to New York with them because I thought she was mad at me? Had she listened to absolutely nothing I'd said in the past week? "So come on. Don't be lame. Come with us," Noelle said, nudging me with her bag.
"Thanks. I'd rather watch the Rudolph special for the two hundredth time," I told her. Noelle's eyes darkened for a split second and my blood ran cold, but she quickly cleared it away with a smile. "All right then. You all stay here and work on spreading your asses. Meanwhile, we'll
be hooking up and dodging paparazzi all night." "Well, have fun. Try not to bring home any new diseases!" Natasha joked. Noelle leveled her with a glare before turning and striding out. The moment the door closed behind them, we all laughed. Even me.
GROUNDED
It was only twenty minutes later that Mrs. Lattimer, our housemother, scurried down the stairs, cinching the belt on her velvet robe tightly around her slim waist. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rush to the front door of Billings and I surreptitiously touched my toe to Natasha's arm. We both got up, intrigued, and Cheyenne and Rose followed. Mrs. Lattimer buttoned her nightgown all the way up until it was practically choking her, then opened the inner door. A blast of wind hit her in the face, and then in walked Noelle, Kiran, Ariana, London, Vienna, and the rest of them, followed by Scat himself, our neckless head of security.
"Girls! Whatever were you doing out at this time of night?" Mrs. Lattimer put on a good show of being shocked and appalled, but it was just that. A show. She knew every move Noelle made and was bribed big-time to keep her mouth shut about all of it. Noelle glared at the woman. Then Dean Marcus walked in and closed the door behind him. An iron curtain of dread settled over all of us. I caught Natasha's eye. This was not good. Cheyenne was almost red with rage. "In the parlor, please, everyone," the dean said. Only Vienna hopped to and rushed right into the room where we already stood. "Now!"
I'd never heard the dean yell before. Not really. Even Ariana flinched. "Well. That was a waste of a good-hair day," Kiran said as she sauntered by me. Noelle waited until everyone else was inside before taking her dear, sweet time strolling in behind them. She took a spot by the wall near the armchair where Kiran sat and struck a defiant pose. The dean looked around at all of us. "I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you girls," he said sternly. "And not just those of you who flouted the rules tonight, but those of you who let them do it and didn't say a thing to stop them." I felt Natasha tense next to me and I touched her arm. Now was not the time to debate the dean. We could do that later if we needed to, after he'd had a chance to calm down and maybe take a Tums. Or ten.
"You girls have the privilege of residing in one of the most prestigious dormitories on this campus. Billings was the first women's residence at this academy. Its alumnae have gone on to be some of the most powerful, well-respected women in the world. How do you think those women would feel about the way in which you have spat upon this institution with your actions?" "They'd probably be pretty proud," Noelle said under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. There were a few giggles and I just wanted to throttle someone. "Ms. Lange, is there something about this situation that amuses you?" the dean asked, appalled. "Because if you like, we can go back to my office and you can tell me all about it before I expel you."
Someone gasped. But Noelle . . . Noelle just smiled, never taking her eyes off the dean. Cool as the other side of the pillow. "No, Dean. I'm not amused." The dean hesitated a moment. Clearly he wasn't used to dealing with the likes of Noelle Lange. But he soon recovered and returned to his speech. Still, he didn't look in Noelle's direction again.
"I don't have to tell you girls that the rest of the school looks up to you. You set the example. When I appealed to the student body for their support, I was appealing primarily to you. They will follow whatever course you blaze, and you just blazed a course right into the woods and through a hole in a bloody fence!" I thought the top of Cheyenne's head was going to blow right off. She was the type of girl who lived to set the right example, and she'd tried to do just that. But Noelle had ruined it for her. Noelle had turned lily-white Cheyenne Martin into a black sheep. "Now, I warned you that there would be grave consequences for any indiscretions," the dean said. "Well, here they are."
No one in the room breathed. Every single girl around me tensed. Everyone except Ariana, who hadn't blinked since her return; Kiran, who just looked bored; and Noelle, whose defiant expression had not changed. "From this moment on, when you are not in class, in the chapel for services, or in the cafeteria for meals, you will be in the library, seated at the center tables, studying." "What?" Kiran finally snapped to and a few of the other girls stirred. "Mrs. Lattimer will be there with you at all times to keep a head count," the dean continued, giving our housemother a stern look. As if, perhaps, she was being punished as well. She gripped the high collar on her nightgown and looked away. "You can't do this," Ariana said. "I believe I just did, Ms. Osgood," the dean said. "All of you, consider yourselves grounded for the remainder of the term."
He looked around the room, making eye contact with each and every one of us and just daring us to speak up again. No one did. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and stormed out, taking Scat with him. The moment the door closed behind him, the room erupted in a hail of protests and whines. Noelle merely rolled her eyes and cut a straight line through the crowd, heading for the door. She was just about there when Cheyenne got right in front of her. "I told you not to do this!" she ranted. "How could you be so selfish? Now you've gotten all of us grounded! I've never even been grounded by my parents!" "There's a shocker," Kiran said.
Noelle stared down her nose at Cheyenne. She had a few inches on the girl and a much more imposing figure, but to Cheyenne's credit, she never backed up. Not even a step. "Try to remember who you're dealing with, Martin," she said. I expected Cheyenne to step aside. We all did. But she stood her ground. And in the end, it was Noelle who had to go around her to make her grand, sweeping exit.
DEVELOPMENT
"This one you are not going to believe!" I awoke with a start and my history textbook slid off my lap and banged to the floor. Natasha stood in the doorway of our room, cell phone closed in her hand, her hair wild from the breeze on the roof. I brought my hand to my heart to make sure it wasn't on the outside of my body. "Oh my gosh. I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?" Natasha said. I looked around at the notebook on my bed, the clock, the mussed sheets. "Looks that way." "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be asleep already," Natasha said. She sat down on the edge of my bed near my feet. "But you're never going to believe the dish Leanne just told me." "Good news or bad news?" I asked, rubbing my temple with my fingertips. She looked pretty excited, so I was guessing it was good. Natasha didn't usually get her jollies from negative gossip. Not her style.
"I'm not sure. You tell me. Apparently, the gossip around the city is that Blake Pearson has disappeared." "What?" All right, now I was awake. And on my feet. About a zillion thoughts flew through my head at once, none of them coherent. Something about guilt and death and anger and brothers. "When? I mean . . . how? Are you sure about this?""Well, it's not confirmed-confirmed, but in our circles these rumors are usually pretty accurate," Natasha said. The joy was gone, replaced by concern. "Why are you freaking out so bad?" "Why am I freaking out so bad?" I blurted. Because I just saw him. Because he left here so pissed off last night, he might have driven his BMW or whatever the hell he drove into a lamppost for all I knew. Because I had just met the guy for the first time, however convoluted and awful that meeting had been, and now he was gone.
"I'm sorry, that was a stupid question," Natasha said. "First Thomas and now Blake. Of course it's totally insane." I stopped, a whole new line of thinking occurring to me. "Wait a minute. Do they think that somebody took him? That, like, whoever killed Thomas killed Blake now? Is that what they think?" "It came up in the conversation," Natasha said, lifting her shoulders. "What if it's some kind of revenge thing? Like Mr. Pearson pissed somebody off somehow and now they're, I don't know, going after his kids. He's a pretty powerful guy in business, you know. Guys like that have equally powerful enemies." "Sounds like you're writing a Law & Order," I told her.
"There's a reason why their plots are always 'ripped from the headlines,'" Natasha said, complete with air quotes. "When you think about it, it's kind of a good thing--in a sick, really twisted way. If someone did take Blake, then that kind of clears Josh, doesn't it? Since he's in police custody and all." "Yeah. I guess it would
." I plopped down in my desk chair, trying to digest all this information. Trying to make sense of any of it. Maybe it was because I didn't grow up on the Upper East Side with all its alarm systems and bodyguards and whatever else they had, but I had a hard time believing that some pissed-off business associate of Mr. Pearson's was picking off his children. Of course, maybe that was the type of thing that happened all the time in the lives of the rich and famous.
Still, I couldn't shake the thought that Blake's disappearance was somehow related to the meeting with him last night. It was too coincidental. He'd just been here, just been confronted with the truth. And he'd been so angry. So venomously angry. It couldn't be a fluke. It had to mean something that he'd vanished so soon after he'd found out that his brother's best friend and girlfriend knew he'd been on campus the night of Thomas's murder. It had to mean something. But what?
THE NEWS
"Who cares? It's just a couple of weeks and we were all going to be studying anyway. BFD," Noelle said the next morning, tearing off a piece of her bagel.
I stared across the cafeteria at the faculty tables. Ms. Lewis-Hanneman sat like a statue in front of her untouched food, staring at nothing. A few pieces of hair had fallen out of her usually perfect bun and she wasn't wearing any makeup. Her sweater was big and gray, the kind of thing you put on when you can't be bothered, or when you need some comfort. She'd heard the news. Obviously. My heart went out to her. I knew exactly how she was feeling. Knew all the horrible things that were going through her mind. How she felt like she might never be able to move again. At that moment, I didn't even care how awful she'd been to me in her office. I just felt for her.