Legacy

  I couldn't have been more flabbergasted if she'd whipped out a flaming baton and started tap-dancing. "I have something for you," Mrs. Kane said. She turned and placed her bag on the podium so that she could search through it. I was so confused I felt weak. Was this really what Cheyenne had thought of me last year? It was hard to recall after all the bickering and venom of the past few weeks, but we had been friends. Had spent a lot of time together last spring. But still, if she had ever thought I was grounded, and that I was "much needed" in Billings, then why had she spent so much time this year making sure I knew I didn't belong? Just over a week ago, she had told me flat out that I wasn't Billings material. That I would never understand what it meant to be there. What had happened since the summer that had changed her mind about me so drastically? Or had she not changed her mind at all? Maybe she'd just been so in love with Josh that she would have done or said anything to hurt me. Tried to get me to leave Billings so she wouldn't have to look at me anymore. She had to have had real feelings for him, right? You don't drug a guy into fooling around with you if your feelings are immoderate. Not that I would know from experience, but still.

  "Here. I found this among her things," Mrs. Kane said turning around. She handed me a photo. It was a picture of Cheyenne and me taken at Vienna's Sweet Seventeen party last spring. The two of us were smiling broadly, hugging each other, our cheeks pressed together almost as if we were best friends. Because we had been friends. As difficult as it was to recall, we had been. It was a gorgeous shot, and I remembered when Tiffany had taken it. We had been dancing to "Margaritaville" on the deck of the yacht, singing at the top of our lungs. I remembered being surprised that people in the Easton circle knew the words to a song like "Margaritaville," but I suppose tunes like that were universal. There was a pinhole in the top of the photo, as if Cheyenne had hung it somewhere. It had meant enough to her to put it on display. "She would have wanted you to have it." A bubble rose in my throat, choking off my air supply. "Remember what I said, Reed. Don't waste too much time ruminating on what's already done. You're young. You should live your life." She gave my shoulder a squeeze and started past me. Suddenly, the guilt crashed over me anew, and it was too much for me to bear.

  "Mrs. Kane," I blurted. She paused and turned to look at me expectantly. "Yes?" "I... I'm so sorry," I said, my vision blurring as I looked at the picture. "I didn't mean--" Constance stepped forward as if to hug me or steady me, and suddenly I snapped back to reality. What was I going to say? That I hadn't meant to force Cheyenne to kill herself? That I was sorry I had contributed to the death of her daughter? I looked at Constance and Sabine, both of whom were wide-eyed, concerned. What was I thinking? No one could know about that e-mail. No one.

  "You didn't mean what, dear?" Mrs. Kane asked. I swallowed hard and shoved the photo into my purse. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just... really sorry." Mrs. Kane smiled sympathetically. "Thank you, Reed." She turned and strode out. "I can't believe Cheyenne said all that stuff about you," Constance said, biting her lip. "Yeah. Me neither," I replied, overwhelmed by my confusion, my guilt. "We should probably go outside. They'll want to start soon," Sabine suggested, putting her arm around me. So I walked out into the sunshine with my two closest friends, feeling completely detached from them. They didn't know what was really going on inside of me. Didn't know what I was capable of, what I had done. And they never would. Even with them flanking me, comforting me, I had never felt so alone.

  * * *

  Outside on the bluff, the pastor finished his speech, and Cheyenne's parents stepped forward to lift the gold urn from the white lace cloth on which it had been sitting during the service. They walked out onto the bluff with the container between them, walked out almost to the breakers, to where the water collided with the earth. Mrs. Kane said something to her ex-husband. He replied with a nod. Then he opened the urn and a huge cloud of black ash poured out, whipped up by the wind.

  Behind me someone wailed. Rose dissolved into tears. I felt something inside of me start to shake. Like my ribs were crumbling around my heart. I clutched Josh's hand, and he immediately put his arm around me and held me tightly to his side. Whatever was trying to batter its way out of me, I held my breath and held it in. On the bluff Mr. Martin dropped to his knees. The urn fell away and rolled until it hit Mrs. Kane's feet. Several people—family members, it seemed--moved forward to help. The rest of us watched the last of Cheyenne's ashes as they were scattered by the wind. And then it was over. The last speck was gone, and the crowd began to disperse. I took a deep breath as Mr. Martin was helped to his feet, and tried to let the air fill me. It was over. Done. We'd said good-bye. Much to my surprise, I felt a huge sense of relief. Maybe this was all I needed. Closure, or whatever they call it. Maybe I really would be able to move on.

  "I can't believe Taylor and Kiran didn't show," Portia sniffed to her roommate, Shelby Wordsworth, as they walked by us. "They were initiated with us. I mean, how rude." "Please. No one's heard from Miss Genius since last fall, and Kiran puts the 'self in 'selfish,'" Shelby sniffed. "I am not at all surprised." My face grew hot at her scathing words. Shelby was a senior, gorgeous in an understated, sophisticated way with her thick, dark blond hair, bright blue eyes, and refined clothing choices. But she had barely ever spoken two words to me. She hadn't been that close with my friends last year--with Noelle, Ariana, Kiran, and Taylor--so I felt as if she had no right to criticize them now. Even though technically she had known them longer than I had.

  Still, it wasn't the time to criticize her. Instead, I glanced around, wondering if any of the former Billings Girls had shown up but were just keeping a low profile. I had thought of them that morning, considered that they might attend the service--but I had been so distracted during the eulogy and by Mrs. Kane's "no regrets" directive that I had forgotten all about them. "So... you okay?" Josh asked me as we followed the rest of the Easton students down the hill. His dark blond curls had been tamed with gel, and in his pressed blue suit and dark tie, he'd never looked more perfect. "Yeah, actually. I think I'll be all right." I bit my lip, hesitating. "So, are we going to talk about it? You know, the fight?"

  Josh tipped his head back, his hands in his pockets. When he looked at me again, his expression was pragmatic. "I'm thinking no." Relieved, I smiled. The last thing I needed was more drama. "No?" "I say we chalk it up to emotions--temporary insanity--and move on," he suggested. "You think?" "I am totally down with that plan," I replied. Temporary insanity. Perhaps that could double as my excuse for that e-mail to Dash. Yes. Temporary insanity worked. I liked that. I took a deep breath of the crisp sea air, feeling infinitely better as I started walking again. "God, I can't wait to get back and sleep. I just want to chill, you know? I just want this to be over so we can--" And then I saw her. Standing right there in the middle of the crowd. Cheyenne was not dead. She was there. And she was staring right at me. Her blunt-cut blond hair. Her blue eyes. Her perfect skin. Her big diamond earrings. Definitely her.

  "Josh!" I gasped, gripping his hand. "What? What's the matter?" "Cheyenne," I told him, breathless. A crowd of men in dark suits moved in between myself and Cheyenne, and when they moved away again, she was gone. I scanned the crowd like a crazy person, but she had disappeared. Was she a figment of my imagination? "Cheyenne what?" Josh asked. "Reed, take a breath."I did as I was told, and my brain cleared a bit. A figment of my imagination. Of course she had been. Cheyenne was dead. Her parents had just sent her ashes into the wind. I was just tired. Just imagining things. "What is it?" Josh asked again as I clutched his hand.

  "Nothing. I just..." I glanced up at him and forced a strained laugh. "You're gonna think I'm crazy. I seriously just thought I saw Cheyenne." Josh blinked. "Oh. Okay, I could see why that would freak you out," he said with an understanding smile, briefly cupping my cheek. "You probably just saw one of her cousins or something. Someone who looks like her." I looked into his eyes and my panic dissipated. A cousin. Right. Someone who looked like her. Of course. I wasn't crazy. I'
d merely spotted a look-alike. What would I do without him? "Okay?" he asked, loosening his grip a bit. I nodded. "Okay. "You're sleeping in the car on the way home," he told me, slipping his arm around my waist as we started walking again. "Like Gage and Trey are gonna let me sleep," I said with a forced laugh. "I'll kick them out. You can sack out in the backseat," he told me. "How're they gonna get home?" I asked. "They'll find a ride. Everyone we know is here. All I care about is you," he added with a smile.

  God, he was perfect. What had I been thinking, flirting with a hot billionaire real estate heir? Did I really need to create drama in my life when it seemed to have a way of finding me quite easily on its own? Answer? An emphatic no. I tipped my head to the side and rested it on Josh's strong shoulder as we made our way down the beach to his car. I loved him. I did. Him and only him. From this moment on.

  * * *

  "It's like a morgue in here," Astrid said that evening, hugging her purple sweater closer to her body. She shivered and sat down next to me on the settee in the foyer. Sabine leaned against the wall under the framed photos of illustrious Billings alumni, many of whom had been present that morning to pay their respects to their lost sister. In the parlor most of our fellow Billings Girls sat in pensive silence. The TV was on, but I was sure no one was paying attention to it. In the hour we'd been back on campus, not one person had even approached Cheyenne's room to take her parents up on their generous, if morbid, offer. "So much for that whole moving on thing." "Give it time," I said. "We did just scatter her ashes this morning." The moment we'd returned I'd run directly up to my room and stuffed the photo Cheyenne's mother had given me into one of my textbooks from last year, then shoved it in the very bottom of the bottom drawer of my desk. Out of sight, out of mind. Except that it wasn't, since it kept flashing across my mind's eye every other second. Yeah, moving on was not going to be easy. Especially not for me.

  "My mum always says death is a natural part of life," Astrid said, looking down at her black-and-white checkered shoes. I noticed she had picked off most of her bright yellow nail polish and had eschewed her usual glitter eye shadow today, going for a more subdued gray. "But this doesn't feel natural, does it?" "That's because it's not. It's not natural when it's suicide," I said glumly. "We have to do something," Sabine said suddenly, pushing herself away from the wall. Being a true island girl, she owned no black clothing, and she looked awkward in my black skirt and gray top. Like she was a little girl playing librarian or something. "It's too depressing." Astrid and I glanced at each other. "Like what?" I asked. "I don't know. Something," Sabine said, pacing in front of us. "All of us together. Like you've said you all did last year. Something to cheer us up and help us to... you know... what's the word?" "Bond?" I suggested.

  "Yes! Exactement!" Sabine's eyes were bright with excitement. "But what could we do?" Astrid asked, sitting up straight. "I'm not sure. Reed, you know these girls better than we do," Sabine pointed out. "What would they all like to do?" "I don't know... shop?" I joked. It was, after all, the universal Billings Girl pastime. "Brilliant!" Astrid said. "Yes! That's it!" Sabine added, clasping her hands together and pointing her index fingers at me. "Shopping. We should all go shopping together!" I blinked up at her. I'd been kidding, after all. I mean, was this really an appropriate moment for shameless acts of consumerism? "You think?" I said. "Definitely!" Sabine replied, pulling me up off the settee. "It's a perfect idea, Reed." A spark of something akin to excitement filled my chest. It would be so nice to do something normal. Something distracting. Something fun. The last few weeks had been so bleak, a few hours off from that would be such a relief.

  "Well, we do have a free pass off campus all weekend...." Normally anything but flexible, Headmaster Cromwell had granted us all the passes because of the memorial service, knowing some families would be around and that some students would likely stay up at the Cape overnight. I suppose he assumed it would be easier just to give everyone a universal "get out of jail free" card than to deal with people coming in and filing requests every other second. "Good! You should go tell them. Cheer them up," Sabine said, pointing at the parlor. She and Astrid both looked so stoked by the idea, I could hardly say no. I walked over to the parlor door and peeked in. The other Billings Girls were all sitting on the U of couches, staring into space or whispering to each other. London twirled her hair around her finger, then let it go, then twirled it again. Portia toyed idly with her necklaces. Constance texted on her phone, undoubtedly to Whittaker. Other than the occasional whisper and the sound of her fingers punching the keys, the room was fairly silent.

  "You guys? We kind of had an idea we wanted to run by you," I began. I had their attention instantly. "It was really Reed's idea," Sabine said, coming up behind me. "I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could all go shopping," I suggested. "Walk into town... hit those cute shops on Main Street? Maybe we could even have lunch at the Driscoll." "Really?" London and Vienna popped up like those moles in the Whack a-Mole games at the Jersey Shore. The whispering intensified into excited murmurs. "I am totally in," Portia said. "I am the Q of retail therapy." A few people laughed and the murmurs turned to chatter. Who needed what? Who was going to burn out Daddy's credit card first? The morgue had suddenly morphed into a cocktail party. Without the cocktails, of course. "This was a fab idea, Reed," Portia said, double air-kissing me. "I'm going to go do a shoe inventory right now." Tiffany, Rose, London, Vienna, Kiki, and Lorna were all smiling at me, and I suddenly felt an enormous sense of satisfaction. Felt very Noelle Lange. I had taken charge. I had just completely changed the vibe from depths of despair to excited anticipation in about two seconds flat.

  Later that night everyone but me had been to Cheyenne's room. Shelby was the first to tentatively approach, but once the seal had been broken, all the other Billings Girls had been through there, whispering like they were in a museum. Only I stayed in my room, alone. I knew Cheyenne wouldn't want me to have anything of hers, and the last thing I needed was some token to remind me of my guilt each time I saw it. Finally, when they were all done, I heard everyone adjourn to the parlor to hang out, but I didn't join them. I felt heavy. Like I couldn't move. Bed was the only place I wanted to be.

  I have no idea how long I lay there, staring at the ceiling--brooding about everything that had happened that day--but when the door opened, I sat up, more than ready for a distraction. Sabine struggled in with a large box covered in airmail stamps. She paused when she saw me. "Oh. I thought you were downstairs with everyone else," she said. "Nope. What's that?" I asked, gesturing at the box. "Care package from home," she said, dropping it on the floor of her closet. "I left it downstairs before." "Cool. Aren't you going to open it? " I asked as she closed the closet door. "Maybe later. My mother always puts in these sentimental notes and cards," she said, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "I'm sort of not in the mood."

  I could understand that. There had already been way too much emotional spillage around here today. "What did you take from Cheyenne's?" I asked. "Nothing," Sabine said, picking at some unseen speck on the back of her desk chair. "I don't want anything of hers." Then she pulled a small pink jewelry box from the pocket of her jeans. "Tiffany made me take this, though. She made Constance, Lorna, and me all take them." She cracked the box open. Inside was a very familiar diamond Bona gold chain. My heart thumped extra hard when I saw it: the symbol of Billings membership Cheyenne had given to each of us at the beginning of the year, but had withheld from Sabine, Constance, and Lorna--the girls she had deemed unworthy. Tiffany must have found them in her room. I hadn't worn mine in days. Thinking about it now, I realized I hadn't seen any of the Billings Girls wearing them. When had they stopped?

  "Are you going to wear it? " I asked. "No." She snapped the box closed and tossed it unceremoniously on her desk. "Diamonds are so tacky," she joked, smiling wanly. I exhaled a laugh. For a long moment neither of us said a word. "Do you want to... I don't know... play cards or something?" I asked finally. Sabine's green eyes lit
up. "Definitely!" She came over and bounced down on my bed as I fished a deck of cards from my top desk drawer. From that moment on it was all Spit and Rummy and Go Fish, which Sabine had never played. Neither of us mentioned Cheyenne again, and for a couple of hours I actually felt close to normal. Not completely. But close.

  BEST IDEA EVER

  "You must let me buy it for you, Reed," Portia said. "It is so you."

  It was a gorgeous dress. A red Nicole Miller, sleeveless and slim, with a skirt that hit just above the knee and a sophisticated boat neck. It accentuated my long legs and defined arms, and was sexy without being slutty. Kind of a perfect Billings Girl dress. It had been a long time since I'd felt anything this luxurious touch my skin. Not since I'd gotten rid of all the stuff Noelle and the others had given me last year. I'd even trashed that frothy, shimmery gold gown they'd chosen for me to wear to the Legacy--perhaps the only move I regretted. I had felt so beautiful that night. So... not me. Sort of how I felt looking at myself right now. Part of me would have loved to have just said, "Sure, Portia. Ring it up." But it was a six-hundred-dollar dress. And also red. A little bit "look at me!" for my taste.