“I’ll meet you at Coffee Carma at four,” I told him, feeling very in charge.
“Four it is,” he replied.
“Good. It’s a date,” I said.
Marc blushed and grinned. It was a nice grin. Real. Not at all smug.
“It’s a date,” he repeated.
“See you then!”
I turned and walked determinedly toward Billings. I’d dealt with Cromwell and the New York trip, I’d made my next F.Y.R. move. So far, so good. I was taking charge of my life. But as the dorm loomed before me, I started to feel a bit short of breath. Almost dizzy. Almost like I didn’t want to go inside.
What if there was something new and unexplained in my room? A few days had gone by since the discovery of Cheyenne’s clothing, but rather than making me feel safer, the passing time was making me more paranoid. Who was planting that stuff? What would they do next? And when? When would I open another door or drawer and find some other Cheyenne-related artifact that would knock the wind out of me all over again? All my Noelle-inspired adrenaline started to wane and my steps slowed.
I didn’t want to go in there. Didn’t want to know what was waiting for me. Billings, the only place that had felt like home in the past year and a half, had changed. All because one of my schoolmates had a very sick, cruel sense of humor. Why would someone want to do this to me? Did I really have such an enemy on campus? What had I done to deserve this?
I paused outside the door and leaned back against it. What if it was someone inside Billings? What if it was more than one person? What if everyone knew what was going on and they were all laughing at me behind my back. What if—
No. Stop.
This was my dorm. I was not going to be intimidated. I was not going to be afraid to walk through the door. These were my friends. They wouldn’t do this to me. And whatever my mystery stalker wanted to throw at me next, I would just deal with it. Like I’d dealt with Cromwell. I’d deal with it like I knew I could. And whoever was doing this to me would be sorry.
Taking a deep breath, I turned around and strode inside.
Everyone was gathered in the parlor. For a fleeting moment I considered just going in there and asking if any of them was behind the black marbles and the clothing, and maybe even how that picture of Cheyenne and me had made it out of my desk drawer and onto my bulletin board a few weeks back—which I was starting to think was part of all this. Or if any of them was helping someone on the outside. Just call them out. But then I realized that revealing what was going on to the general Billings population would be a mistake. It would make me look weak. It would bring up questions about why I was the only one being targeted. I would have to tell them about the e-mail. About my guilt. And I was not about to do that.
No, I was just going to have to figure this out on my own. Once the fund-raiser was over. Once everything started to normalize again. Then I would deal with my tormentor.
Decision made, I walked over to the parlor door and instantly my
blood started to boil. Noelle was standing in front of the fireplace, addressing a rapt audience of Billings Girls. Clearly, this was a formal meeting and clearly, Noelle was in charge.
“So if your parents want to fly in anyone from the West Coast, let me know by Friday. Daddy’s going to let us use his jet for one cross-continental run, so we’ll need to make sure everyone knows where to be and when,” Noelle was saying. A few people made a note of this and Noelle glanced at the next item on her agenda. She had an agenda. “Okay, now—”
“What’s going on?” I said loudly, announcing my presence to the room.
Everyone turned around. My irritation must have been evident, because many of them looked quickly, guiltily away.
“Reed! Good. There you are. We were just going over some of the details for the fund-raiser,” Noelle said, unfazed. “I went to Cromwell about the off-campus passes and he said four is the limit, so we’re back to the original plan.” She turned to Sabine and shrugged. “Sorry, Frenchie. You’re out.”
Sabine’s face fell, which made me want to scream. Or hit something. Possibly Noelle.
“Actually,
I
just talked to Cromwell and secured the extra pass,” I said pointedly, my skin burning with barely suppressed ire. “So Sabine, you’re still in.”
Everyone looked from me to Noelle, as if we were volleying in a tennis match. Noelle’s lips screwed up in something that vaguely
resembled a smile. “Well. I guess your powers of persuasion are improving.”
All the faces swiveled to me.
“Yeah. I guess they are,” I replied.
Silence. I had silenced Noelle. Cool. I walked into the room, dropping my bag and coat on the window seat, and joined Noelle up front. “So, has anyone had any new ideas about the theme?” I asked.
Everyone looked at everyone else. There was so much tension in the room, I was surprised any of us could breathe.
“Reed, can I talk to you for a second?” Noelle said through her teeth, but maintaining a sunny tone. “Alone?”
“Sure,” I replied, just as sunnily. “Why don’t you guys brainstorm while we’re gone? Constance, would you take notes?”
As Noelle followed me out of the room, I knew there would be no talk of the fund-raiser. All they were going to talk about was me and Noelle, and take bets on who might throw the first bitch slap.
I led Noelle right into my room and whirled on her the moment she closed the door behind us. I was so full of pent-up emotion that I was able to shove my fear of being there all the way to the back of my mind.
“What the hell was that? You’re calling meetings behind my back now?” I demanded. God, it felt good to yell. It felt like all the confusion and stress were pouring right out of me.
“This is not about the fund-raiser. Screw the fund-raiser,” Noelle replied, stepping toward me. “This is about Cheyenne.”
Instantly, my ballooned-up ego deflated to nothing. Determination, gone. Anger, gone. I glanced at my closed closet door.
“What about Cheyenne?” I asked quietly.
“I’m only going to ask you this once, Reed,” Noelle said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you have anything to do with Cheyenne’s death?”
My heart dropped through my body so quickly I felt faint. “What?” I breathed.
“I need to know the truth. I’m not going to go through what I went through last year,” Noelle said coolly. “Not again.”
I turned away from her accusing eyes, my mind reeling. I couldn’t focus on anything, and the details of my room seemed to circle in front of me. The window, the desk, the photo of me and Scott, my bedspread, my lamp, the window, the desk—everything swirled.
“You can’t really think . . . you can’t really think that I could do something like that.”
“That’s not an answer, Reed. I know you were the one the police brought in for questioning. Don’t even try to deny it,” she said. “So what the hell was that all about?”
“It was nothing,” I lied. My back was to her and I started to empty my bag just to give myself something to do. Give me an excuse not to look her in the eye. “It was just . . . they never interviewed me after Cheyenne was found. I left campus with Josh and they questioned everyone else in the dorm, but they never questioned me. They just wanted to make sure they had everyone’s accounts of what happened. You know, for the file.”
“And that was it,” Noelle said, sounding unconvinced. “They didn’t say anything about Cheyenne being murdered. Didn’t ask if you had anything to do with it.”
Her doubtful tone caused something to snap inside of me, and I turned around. “How could you think—”
“Allow me to quote from an e-mail you sent to a certain someone
we both know,” she replied, as still as stone. “‘Cheyenne has lost it. We need to find a way to get rid of her. I need your help.’ Now what was that all about?”
Holy. Holy. Crap. Had Noelle just quoted to me from one of my e-mails to Dash? That was it. I could no longer stand. I fell back onto the edge of my bed and put my head between my knees, fighting for breath. The past few months flashed before my eyes. E-mails with Dash. Phone calls. His desperation that night at the Driscoll dinner. The longing in his brown eyes as he pulled me to him at the Legacy. Was it all lies? One big game? Had he told Noelle everything? Had he been betraying me at every turn?
“How did you . . . ?” I lifted my head. Noelle’s expression was a mask of disgust. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting an extreme head rush pass. “You know about . . . you know I e-mailed Dash?”
Suddenly I no longer cared about Noelle’s power-tripping. All I cared about was making it up to her. Explaining it to her. Keeping her from hating me.
Noelle scoffed, looking up at the ceiling like she just couldn’t figure out what to do with me. “Reed, try to remember who you’re talking to. I read every last one of your pathetic e-mails and every one of his,” Noelle replied. “Dash and I have no secrets. Even when we’re broken up, I know his every move. This isn’t just some high school crush. Dash and I are meant to be together. One little breakup is not going to derail that. And you”—she paused to laugh derisively—“you, Glass-Licker, are certainly not going to derail that.”
“So . . . what? He showed them to you?” I said, finding some
indignation toward Dash in the midst of all my mind-bending panic. Did she know about the Legacy? Did she know?
“Please. No. I’ve known his password since freshman year. He never changes it,” she replied. “So while we were apart, I kept an eye on him. Had to make sure my man was staying out of trouble.”
Wow. I knew the girl liked to have her control, but wasn’t spying on her ex-boyfriend’s e-mails going a little far over the line into complete paranoia? Although, in this case she’d had every reason to be paranoid.
“So, yes. I know all about your little flirtation,” she told me with a superior glint in her eye. “You should know by now, Reed, that you can’t keep secrets from me.”
“Noelle, it didn’t mean anything,” I told her quickly, standing. “It was just stupid and—”
Noelle laughed merrily. “Please. I’m not worried about you and Dash flirting on your computers like some pathetic fourth-graders. Could you be any lamer?”
My face burned as if I’d just been slapped.
“He just missed me and you were a distraction. I know neither of you would ever have the balls to actually
do
anything,” she added. “Neither one of you is that stupid.”
Implication? If we had “done something,” she would have made us pay. So she didn’t know every move he made. She didn’t know what had happened at the Legacy. As relief flooded through me, so did an intense desire to tell her everything we had done—to wipe that superior certainty off her condescending face and show her that she
did not know everything. But I bit my tongue. Even in all the trauma of the moment, my self-preservation instinct kicked in.
Leave well enough alone.
“Let’s get back to the point,” Noelle directed, walking over to my desk. She picked up my plastic box of paper clips and toyed with it, dumping the contents back and forth slowly, like a rattle. “You wanted to get rid of Cheyenne, so tell me . . . what did you do?”
“I wanted to get her expelled, not killed,” I replied, turning my palms out at my sides. “She was out of control . . . treating the new girls like dirt . . . trying to get
them
thrown out of school. I was actually e-mailing Dash to see if he could get in touch with
you
for help. Since you—”
I paused, not wanting to dredge up any more unpleasant memories. Noelle’s brown eyes lit with understanding.
“Since I got Leanne expelled last year,” Noelle finished, placing the box down again. “That was really more Ariana’s thing.”
“I know, but Noelle . . .” I gazed at her, on the verge of desperate tears. “Honestly, did you really think I could ever kill someone? I mean, you know me.”
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I knew Ariana too,” she said. “Or so I thought. I’m not making that blind-trust mistake again.”
Okay. She had a point. But it wasn’t fair that Ariana’s insanity should prejudice Noelle against me. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, not anything that could get me arrested, anyway.
“Cheyenne and I were not getting along toward the end. Everyone
knows this,” I told her. “But I had nothing to do with her death. I mean, just look at it logically. The girl was out. She was expelled. I was never going to have to see her again. Why would I kill her?”
Noelle turned to face me fully and studied my face for a long moment. I couldn’t believe she was still doubting me. Me. Her best friend.
“Noelle, please. You have to believe me,” I said, my voice cracking. “I can’t lose you, too.”
Finally, Noelle rolled her eyes and gave me a genuine smile. “Aw, Glass-Licker, you’re such a sap,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
“Could you
please
stop calling me Glass-Licker?” I asked, grasping at levity.
“No,” she replied. “You flirted with my boyfriend. I get to call you whatever I want for as long as I want.”
Right. I guess I couldn’t argue with that.
“But we’re okay?” I asked uncertainly.
“We’re okay,” she replied. “Let’s go back downstairs before those girls decide on a slumber party theme without our direction.”
“Good idea.”
She walked ahead of me out of my room and I paused for a moment to collect myself. My heart was racing, my mind felt numb, and there was a cool sheen of sweat all over my skin. The only question in my mind right then was how long we would be okay. How long could a person like Noelle Lange be kept in the dark about what really happened at the Legacy? And how long would I survive if she ever found out?
I had to focus on the task at hand. Focus. Not on Josh, not on Noelle, not on the Cheyenne investigation. On the fund-raiser. Focus on the fund-raiser. It was about all I could do to keep myself sane.
So after English lit class on Tuesday, Sabine and I speed-walked to lunch to go over our short list of theme ideas, which we had narrowed down at the meeting the night before. By the end of the day I was going to make a decision. By the end of the day something was going to be set in stone.