But this new theory did nothing to comfort me. Because if I was blocking things out, that wasn’t normal. It wasn’t good. If I had blocked out something that simple, what else was I not remembering? What else might I have done?
No. No. People didn’t just block stuff out for no reason. They didn’t just lose time unless they were on something—pills or way too much alcohol. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been me. Which left one other explanation. Someone was screwing with me. And as I yanked open my dresser drawer I resolved to figure out who it was. I was president of this house. No one messed with the president of Billings. No one messed with Reed Brennan.
Not anymore.
One question kept repeating itself in my mind all day. If Ivy was responsible, how was she getting into Billings? The thought of Kiki’s lost key crossed my mind. Maybe Ivy had found it. Or even stolen it. If that was the case, could I get the administration to change the locks? But then I would have to tell them why. Would have to admit to potentially being stalked. And that would open up a whole can of worms I wasn’t ready to deal with. Like heightened security around Billings. Like people watching me as if I was a freak. Like, possibly, explaining about Cheyenne’s e-mail—explaining why Ivy or someone else might
want
to stalk me.
No, thank you. I would have to figure this one out on my own.
In the meantime, however, I had to keep up with my regularly scheduled life. And that included a study date with Jason Darlington. Fun, independent Reed was about to start her fun, independent life.
It was still raining and windy, as it had been all day long, when
I started across the dark campus, keeping to the pathways closest to the buildings in an effort to duck the weather. I huddled under my black umbrella and kept my head down as I scurried along, already looking forward to being back in my room later, cuddled up under the covers. Halfway to the library, the wind carried a voice to my ear and I looked up. Headmaster Cromwell stood just inside the open doorway of Hull Hall, shaking hands with Detective Hauer. I nearly tripped over myself when I saw them.
Detective Hauer. Lead investigator of the Thomas Pearson murder case. The man who’d arrested Josh last year right in front of me. The man who had later arrested Ariana after she tried to kill me. What the hell was he doing back on campus?
My abrupt stop caught their attention. Predictably, the Crom fixed me with a grim glare. But Detective Hauer was less in character. Last year he had almost always been nice to me—treated me as if I were his kid sister—as if he were on my side. But when he saw me there, he didn’t smile or wave. Didn’t even nod. He simply stared at me as if disconcerted. As if he didn’t quite know what to make of me.
What was up with that?
Thrown, I quickly started walking again, and even jogged the last few steps to the library. Why had Hauer looked at me that way? And why did it make me feel so . . . guilty?
I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The moment I stepped into the cozy warmth of the library, my iPhone beeped. I had a text from Jason.
u on ur way? im in 2nd flr stax. got a good corner. come up.
Study-date time. I took a deep breath, shook my damp hair back, and started up the wide staircase at the back of the marble-floored lobby. The lighting in the upstairs stacks was dim at best, provided mostly by low-wattage, fogged-glass lamps in the ceilings. Way more conducive to sleep than studying. I could hear people whispering at the ends of the packed bookshelves, ensconced in the high-backed chairs or huddled over the small tables. I even caught a telltale snore near the antiquities section. When I finally reached the end of the aisle near the window, I looked right, then left, and spotted Jason. He had not only found us a private corner, he had found us the only corner in the Easton Library with a love seat rather than single chairs. He looked up and smiled, flashing those dimples. Damn. He really was cute.
Okay, date time. If Josh could have breakfast with Ivy, then I could do this. Fun, independent Reed could do this.
“Hey,” I whispered, hoping I didn’t look as unattractively waterlogged as I felt.
“Hey.”
He was taking up one half of the small couch. I shrugged out of my wet coat and slung it over a nearby chair, out of the way. As I perched on the other side of the couch, I placed my bag on the floor and pulled out a hair band to wrap my soaked locks back in a ponytail. Once that was done I felt much more human. Much more dateworthy.
Dateworthy. I was on a date with someone who wasn’t Josh. How was this possible?
“Can you believe this weather?” Jason asked. “Kinda makes you want to hunker down in here all night and wait it out.”
I smiled. Way to work in the phrase “all night” before I’d even settled in. Boy was jumping right in.
“Seriously,” I replied. I dug into my bag and pulled out all the novels we had read so far this year, as well as my massive notebook, all of which I dropped on the low table. “You sure you want to study here? There’s not much light.”
Unless you want to make out. Which is so not happening. Not even with Fun Reed. Even she isn’t ready for that.
“It’s fine,” Jason said. “I’ve been here awhile. Your eyes will adjust.”
His arm was draped along the back of the couch, so that when I sat down, I could feel the soft fuzziness of his sweater sleeve against my neck.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked, restacking my books nervously. “Do you want to tackle the novels in order, or—”
“Yeah. That seems like a good plan,” he replied, picking up his own, worn copy of
The Death of the Heart.
Okay, so maybe he
was
here to study. We settled in and started to go over our notes, flipping through our marked-up, dog-eared books to remind ourselves of specific references. Jason turned out to be smart for a child star—a very perceptive reader—and before long I found myself enjoying our heated discussions.
“Wait, so you actually liked this book?” I asked, holding up my copy of
Sister Carrie
between my thumb and forefinger like it was a bag of smelly garbage.
“Okay, I admit it was
somewhat
over the top,” Jason said, flashing
those dimples of his as he drew his knee up on the couch to better face me. “But Dreiser had his reasons for—”
“Somewhat? Somewhat? Are you kidding me?” I demanded, my voice going shrill as I laughed. “There were points when I actually wanted to track down Dreiser’s grave, dig his ass up, and beat on his bones just for torturing me.”
“Um, don’t you think it would be easier to take out your wrath on Winslow?” Jason suggested, his eyes sparkling. “He did assign the book.”
“Point taken,” I replied with a smile. “But he
is
giving me an A so far this term, so—”
“All right, then. Dreiser’s bones it is,” Jason joked.
“Thank you,” I said, dropping the book on the table.
“You’re welcome.” He righted himself on the couch so that we were both facing forward again. We were both still smiling, and there was this warm camaraderie between us. A nice, friendly warmth.
“This is fun,” I said.
“You sound surprised,” Jason replied.
“Do I?” I said, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Out of nowhere his hand fell on my shoulder. He was much closer than he’d been ten seconds ago.
“The library’s gonna close in half an hour,” he said, looking into my eyes.
“So?” I said stupidly.
“Sooooo . . .”
He leaned in and kissed me. I was so taken aback that I didn’t even have time to stop him or pull away, and suddenly I was leaning backward, with him bearing down on me, the arm of the couch pressed into the center of my back.
Okay. Cute boy kissing you. Nice, cute boy kissing you. Don’t freak out. Just . . . kiss him back. That’s what Fun Reed would do.
So I tried. I tried to kiss him back. But then his unfamiliar tongue shot into my mouth and I thought of Josh. How very not-Josh this guy was. Suddenly I wanted to hurl.
“Jason, stop,” I said, pushing him gently away and sitting up. Maybe there was still a way to salvage this. Get out of this gracefully and retain Jason as a friend. It wasn’t his fault I was on the rebound, after all. He was just doing what half the other guys at this school seemed to want to do—land the Billings president. “I can’t do this right now,” I said.
“Sorry. Sorry,” he said awkwardly, tugging at his pants legs as if to de-wrinkle them. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No. It’s okay. It’s just—”
“You’re not over Hollis yet. I get it.” He was all red as he flashed me a self-deprecating smile. “I just figured that since he was already hooking up with Ivy Slade, you might be ready to, you know—”
My heart plummeted. “What?”
“What what?” Jason asked, surprised by my outburst.
“Who told you they hooked up? Did he tell you that?” I asked.
“No! I—”
“Then who told you?” I demanded.
“No one. Someone,” Jason babbled. “I don’t know! Everyone’s talking about it.”
Everyone’s talking about it. Everyone but the people around me. If there was something going on, the Billings Girls knew about it. What were they trying to do, protect me?
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, feeling more nauseated than ever. I had to get out of there. I had to think.
“Wait! Reed, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled. “I’ll be back.”
Then I turned and fled. Ivy and Josh, Ivy and Josh, Ivy and Josh. Suddenly the images my mind had conjured the night before took on a new and realistic clarity. His hands in her thick black hair, her short-but-toned legs wrapped around him. I had to cover my mouth to keep from throwing up as I raced down the staircase toward the bathrooms on the first floor.
Please don’t let me boot in the middle of the library. That’s the last thing I need.
At the bottom of the staircase I was about to turn toward the bathrooms when I saw him. Josh himself. He had just walked in through the front door and now stood, his curls glistening with rain, directly across from me. The length of the lobby separated us, the low glass cases displaying Easton artifacts acting as a barrier. But we might as well have been face-to-face. For a long second neither of us moved. Time stopped.
How could you? How could you hook up with someone just days after we broke up? Did I mean nothing to you?
You hooked up with Dash
before
we broke up,
Josh’s voice replied in my mind.
And don’t even try the “I thought you dumped me” line. Even if I had, what you did was still horrible
.
Silent conversation over, Josh turned and walked toward the circulation desk, which was hidden from my view by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I forced myself to make a left and walk to the bathroom alcove, but before I went inside, I glanced down an aisle between the stacks. Glanced at the tall oak desk. Josh stood there with Ivy, her head tipped sideways against his arm in a comfortable way, as if they had been dating for years.
That was it. That was all I needed to see. From here on in, Josh Hollis was nothing to me. I would date every drop-dead-gorgeous guy at this school if that was what it took to get over him, and he would just have to watch it happen.
From now on, Reed Brennan was on a mission. Forget the bathroom. I turned on my heel and walked determinedly back upstairs to Jason. Back to my date. Back to my new life.
“You do realize we’re not going to New York until
next
weekend,” I said to Sabine on Friday night. Her bed was covered with clothing, sorted by skirts, tops, pants, sweaters, and miscellaneous accessories, and she was systematically removing everything from her closet to add to the piles.
“I know. I just want to make sure there’s nothing else I need,” Sabine replied, studying a long-sleeved azure dress. “If
Maman
is to send something from home, I have to tell her tomorrow or it won’t get here in time.”
Sabine wanted to look stylish for our trip to the city. Which I understood. It was the cool capital of the world. But I had enough trouble looking of-the-moment at Easton. Trying to do the same in New York would probably make my head explode.
She took the last few things out of her closet and closed the door with a bang, which forced the door of my closet to pull back an inch.
My heart caught in my throat. I hadn’t been in my closet since yesterday morning, which meant that today I had worn the same jeans and shoes as I had yesterday. So far, my fashionista friends either had not noticed or had refrained from saying anything, but that wouldn’t last long. Tomorrow I’d have to venture into my wardrobe again, but for now, I got up and closed the door without so much as a peek inside.
I didn’t want to think about those clothes. Didn’t want to think about what they meant. Avoidance was key to sanity.
“Everybody decent?” Noelle asked, striding right into our room without waiting for the answer.
She dropped down on the edge of my bed, leaning back on her hands and kicking her legs out, crossing them at the ankle. She was wearing camel-colored suede ankle boots with little silver buckles across the backs. Here was a girl who hadn’t worn the same shoes twice since she’d arrived on campus a month ago.
“So, the good news is, Dash is going to be in the city next week too,” Noelle announced.
My heart leapt through my back into my bra strap, then slingshot its way through my body into my ribs. Dash was going to be there. Dash still existed. I’d been starting to wonder, considering he had yet to respond to my e-mail. I guess talking to his current girlfriend was more important than explaining himself to the girl he’d totally led on. For some reason, the thought of Noelle and Dash whispering sweet nothings to each other over the phone as if he and I had never happened made my fists clench.
It wasn’t that I wanted Dash. Not anymore. Especially not now that he had sat on my message for so long and hadn’t bothered to call or write back. I had been enthralled by him, sure. I could admit that to myself. But that was all. And all before I realized exactly how much Josh meant to me. As for the pinch of anger, it was just that once again Noelle had won. She always, always won.