“Noelle. Why didn’t you—”
“Tell you? And miss the look on your face right now? Please,” Noelle said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “A girl likes to have her fun.”
The seniors chuckled knowingly. The juniors shifted in discomfort. I couldn’t have torn my eyes away from Noelle if I’d tried.
She reached for my hands and spoke in an intimate tone, as if no one else was there. “You’re finally going to see Billings the way it’s supposed to be.”
There was a lump in my throat the size of a soccer ball. How did she know exactly what I wanted to hear? Now that she was back—back where she belonged—Billings was Billings again.
Noelle’s eyes slid past my shoulder. “Do I know you?”
I glanced behind me just as Sabine replied, “No. I don’t think so.”
“Noelle Lange, this is Sabine DuLac,” I said, lifting a hand in introduction. “She’s a transfer this year.”
“A pleasure,” Noelle said with a small smile.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Sabine gushed.
“Really? I’ve heard nothing about you,” Noelle replied, looking bored as she picked an invisible piece of lint off her Chaiken sweater.
Sabine’s excited expression crumbled and she shot me a betrayed and embarrassed look. I wanted to explain that I would have told Noelle all about her if I’d had any contact with the girl whatsoever before last weekend. But it seemed too lame to try to explain right then in front of everyone, and people were starting to chatter again, asking Noelle where she’d been and whether she’d heard from Kiran Hayes or Taylor Bell and what was up with her and Dash. Questions I was dying to hear the answers to.
“Come on, Reed. I’ve got some presents for you,” Noelle said over her shoulder, as the others ushered her toward her room.
Presents? This just got better and better. I shot Sabine an apologetic look, resolved to explain later, and followed Noelle. Just like old times.
“So, what
is
up with you and Dash?” Shelby asked as Noelle flipped open the top of her Louis Vuitton trunk.
I held my breath as she stood up straight. She shot a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. “Dash is fine,” she said, deftly avoiding the real question. Did she not want our friends to know they’d broken up? And if not, why? “Have you heard he was the only freshman at Yale to make the sailing team?”
As the other girls “oohed” and “ahhed” over this achievement, my insides burned. How did she know this and I didn’t? She was supposed to be broken up with him, and he’d been e-mailing me since the beginning of the year. Maybe I wasn’t worthy of the big news. Not like Noelle.
“So, this Cromwell guy is kind of a jackass, huh?” Noelle said, tossing an armful of cashmere sweaters and scarves from the trunk into a drawer and slamming it shut. For a girl who owned some of the most
expensive stuff available to womankind, she had never treated any of it with all that much respect. To her, everything was replaceable, expendable. She had an endless supply of luxury at her fingertips.
London, Vienna, Tiffany, Portia, Rose, Shelby, and I were all gathered around the room, but none of us dared answer. Everyone was clearly a tad freaked at being back in Cheyenne’s room now that her parents had cleaned it out. They must have come and gone while we were shopping. It seemed so empty, even with Noelle’s bags piled everywhere. So eerie. I couldn’t speak for anyone else, but I had this creepy feeling that someone was watching us. Judging us.
“What?” Noelle asked, noting the silence.
“We hate him,” London blurted.
“That’s an understatement,” Portia said.
“He killed Cheyenne,” Vienna put in.
Whiplash. “What?” I steadied myself against Cheyenne’s—no, Noelle’s—desk.
“Everyone knows it,” London said, her eyes wide. “He expelled her, then she killed herself that night. We all know she, like, lived for this place. Ergo—”
“Everyone here blames him,” Tiffany said, adjusting the long lens on her old-school camera.
How did I not know this? Maybe because I’d been too busy obsessing about who Cheyenne herself had blamed.
“If he hadn’t been such an unyielding asshole—”
“Tell me about it,” Noelle said, rolling her eyes. “My dad had to threaten to close this place down before he let me back in.”
“Close down Easton? Could your dad do that?” I asked, although it wouldn’t really surprise me.
“Not in so many words. But he could sue . . . and sue . . . and sue,” Noelle said with a laugh. “And trust me, Daddy’s pockets are far deeper than Easton’s. Eventually, this place would have crumbled. Once Cromwell understood that fact, he caved like a cheap wedding tent.”
“Wow. He must be PO’d,” Portia said, perching on the edge of the single bed. Cheyenne’s parents had removed all her custom furniture, so now the standard-issue Billings stuff was back. At least until Noelle redecorated.
“Oh, he is. Believe me,” Noelle said, tossing her iPod on the desk. “Have you guys seen how he gets all shaky when he’s angry? It’s very Frankenstein’s monster.”
Everyone laughed, but Noelle scrunched her nose and ran her finger across the surface of the desk. “What’s this? Did you guys hold a Studio 54 party in here?” Her fingertip was caked in some kind of thick white dust.
“That’s probably left over from when the police dusted for fingerprints,” Tiffany said, staring at Noelle’s finger. “The desk is the only piece of Billings furniture Cheyenne was using, so . . .”
Noelle’s jaw dropped as she looked around at us. “They dusted for prints? Why? I thought it was suicide.”
“It was,” Rose said quietly, staring out the bay window. “They just . . .”
“Wanted to make sure,” I finished, swallowing hard.
“Guess they’re a tad suspicious when it comes to Easton,” Portia said wryly.
Noelle’s expression darkened. She looked toward the opposite side of the room. The side of the room that had once belonged to Ariana Osgood. To her best friend. To the girl who had turned out to be a cold-blooded killer.
“Gee. I wonder why,” Noelle said.
For a moment no one spoke, but then Noelle slapped her hands together to clear away the dust.
“So. What else is going on around here?” she asked, dumping the contents of her massive cosmetics bag into the top drawer of the desk. “I mean, aside from this Driscoll Dinner thing that Cromwell kept spewing about at our meeting.”
The Driscoll Alumni Dinner. Right. I had completely forgotten about it in all the drama. The dinner was to be held at the Driscoll Hotel this Saturday, the central event of alumni weekend. Every student had been required to join a committee to help plan or work at the event. Sabine and I were going to be servers. I felt a skitter of nerves down my spine as I wondered for the millionth time if Dash was planning on attending, but I quickly and guiltily banished the thought, as if Noelle could read my mind.
“Oh my God! We’re getting a Coffee Carma!” Vienna announced, bubbling up the mood considerably.
“Oh, yeah. Amberly is a freshman this year. I totally forgot. I’ll have to go say hi before my mother calls me and starts badgering me to,” Noelle said.
“Right. You guys know each other,” I said.
“Oh, so you’ve met our little Amberly.” Noelle was amused.
“She gave Reed a Carma Card,” London said petulantly.
“Not surprising. I’ve told her all about Billings and you in particular, Reed,” Noelle said. “She must be laying the groundwork. Smart girl.”
Noelle placed a jewelry box on the dresser. “What else?”
“Well, you heard about the Legacy, obvi,” Portia said, flinging her glossy black hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah. That’s such a crock,” Noelle said, sifting through her makeup. She selected a tube of M.A.C. lip gloss and opened it. “Someone will step up and throw the thing. Believe me, one unfortunate incident will not stop the Legacy.”
“You think?” London asked hopefully.
“I know,” Noelle replied, whipping open a gold compact mirror and touching up her bottom lip.
“Well, just in case, Reed came up with an alternate plan,” Tiffany said.
“A fabulous alternate plan,” Rose added.
Noelle raised one eyebrow, her lip gloss wand pausing just millimeters from her top lip. “And what’s that?
“We’re going to throw our own Halloween masquerade!” Vienna exclaimed.
“In Cheyenne’s honor,” Shelby added.
I watched Noelle expectantly. Hopefully. I wanted her approval. Even after all this time.
“Really?” Noelle continued with her makeup application. “How very industrious of you, Reed. Look at you, taking all the initiative. I’d say, ‘You go, girl,’ but it’s just so passé.”
I smiled and shook my head. That was about right. That was about as much praise as I was ever going to receive from her. But still, it felt good.
“And Reed’s our new president!” London said, coming over to fling her arm around me.
Noelle snapped the compact closed. My chest instantly tightened with dread. The look on her face was unreadable. Anger? Shock? Both? I felt myself backpedaling like mad. I didn’t want to step on her toes. She was Noelle Lange. Who was I to be president of Billings if Noelle Lange was here?
“Well, well,” Noelle said, crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed me. “Glass-Licker’s come a long way.”
“Well, I mean . . . now that you’re back, things are different,” I stammered. “Obviously you’re the one who should be . . . I mean, if you’d been here, there’s no way I would have been elected.”
Noelle simply looked at me. Nobody argued my point.
Thanks for the support, girls.
So much for them thinking I was the patent choice. Although I couldn’t really blame them. This was Noelle. Even I knew she should be president.
I cleared my throat. If I was going to do this, if I was going to give up the coveted presidency so soon after winning it, I was going to do it with some dignity. Not like a stammering idiot.
“This place was not the same without you,” I said evenly. “It’s
always felt like your house to me. So if you want the presidency, it’s all yours.”
Everyone looked at Noelle. I tucked my hands into my back pockets and held my breath. Slowly, her lips turned up in a smile. “That’s sweet of you, Reed, really, but no thanks.”
I blinked, stunned. Relieved, but stunned.
“What?” Portia blurted, voicing the word bubble hanging above all our heads.
Noelle shrugged and tossed the lip gloss back in the drawer. “Look, technically, I shouldn’t even be here. I should have graduated last year, but, well, things happen. I’m only here to prove to the Ivies that I want to do the work. That I don’t expect special treatment.”
The incredulity was obvious on my friends’ faces. Noelle didn’t expect special treatment? She had never known life without it. Even among the most privileged girls in the country, she was privileged. And she never let anyone forget it.
“You’re the future of this place, Reed,” Noelle said, turning to face me. “All I want is to make sure that when I do finally leave here, I leave it in good hands. And I couldn’t imagine better hands than yours.”
Whoa. Everyone looked at me, impressed. Now
that
was praise. Even though the girls of Billings had voted me in, even though the vote had been unanimous, this was true validation.
“Thanks, Noelle,” I said warmly.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled, an unreadable—maybe teasing?—glint in her eye. “Madame President.”
The next morning at breakfast, Josh picked up a coffee cup and slammed it onto his tray. He held a bowl under the cereal dispenser and jammed down on the lever. I heard a crack, and was surprised when the plastic handle didn’t break off. When the bowl overflowed with Apple Jacks, he cursed under his breath, grabbed a handful of cereal, and tossed it toward the garbage can behind the counter. Little orange and green
O
s rained everywhere. I think only one hit the actual can.
All around us, students studiously avoided the topic of Cheyenne and her memorial service, and instead buzzed about alumni weekend, coming up at the end of the week. They chatted about what they would wear, about which illustrious graduates might attend, about how best to sneak alcohol out of the Driscoll Hotel on Saturday night. But it was clear that Josh and I would not be participating in such frivolous banter.
“My woman’s intuition is telling me something’s bothering you,” I joked, trying to lighten his mood.
He looked at me like I was the enemy. “I can’t believe she’s back. How the hell could they let her back in?”
I took a deep breath. Noelle. Of course. What else could possibly be bothering him? But I had to remind myself that he had good reason to hate her. She had been all too ready to pin Thomas’s murder on him last year, even though she had suspected all along that it had been Ariana. And even if Josh had never been arrested, he would have been totally justified in hating her simply for the role she’d played in his best friend’s death. She, Kiran, Taylor, and Ariana had kidnapped Thomas from his room and brought him out to the woods, where they had tied him up and basically left him scared and alone. All to teach him a lesson. All to make him feel as helpless and humiliated as he’d made me feel the evening before at a party in the woods. What they had done was awful, but it had been Ariana who had gone back and murdered him. The others hadn’t known of her sadistic jaunt. In my opinion, Noelle and the others had messed up big-time, but they hadn’t intended for Thomas to die. They had simply thought they were playing a prank. That was the way I justified it. The only logic that helped me sleep at night.
“Well, apparently her parents threatened to sue and that was that,” I said calmly, adding a bagel to my tray. I pushed up the sleeves of the black V-neck cashmere sweater Noelle had given me—one of many gifts, which included Miu Miu boots, a Tiffany monogrammed lock necklace, and an iPhone—hoping he wouldn’t ask me where it
had come from. She’d said she was making up for the fact that she’d missed my birthday last year. And Christmas. And something about Flag Day.
“Shocker. Gotta love America. They should rename the country Litigation Nation,” he grumbled. He took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose, placing his hands on his hips. “You have to get out of Billings now. With her back, it’s going to be just like it was last year.”