“I know I don’t. I wanted to,” Marc said with a genuine smile.
“Reed. There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you,” Hunter Braden said, appearing before me. He reached out and squeezed my elbow as if he hadn’t been the rudest date in history and I hadn’t walked out on him. Hunter had gone with a tux and an open-collared shirt, and blond scruff lined his cheeks and chin. Very rogue millionaire. “My mother was dying to meet you. Harper Braden, this is Reed Brennan. She organized this event.”
“Mrs. Braden,” I said, trying to be warm even though her son basically sucked. “Always a pleasure to meet a Billings alum.”
Her blue eyes widened, though I wasn’t sure how that was possible, considering she looked as if she had just been shot up with ten vials of Botox in the past hour. Her face was a puffy mask, stretched to its limits around full lips and heavily lined eyes.
“You know your ancient history!” she exclaimed. “Glad to hear it. It’s so good to finally meet you.” She shook my hand, unsnapped her vintage clutch purse, and extracted a small envelope, which she discreetly handed to me. “For the cause,” she said
“Thank you,” I replied. Luckily, Cromwell had only said we couldn’t accept money from Billings alums for preparations, not for the fund-raising itself.
“Good luck tonight. Not that you’ll need it,” she added; then she looked past me. “Oh! Is that Rinnan Hearst? I
must
go say hello!”
The mention of the familiar name caused my heart to stop.
I whipped around and there was the famous actress Rinnan Hearst, Cheyenne’s stepmother, standing near the wall holding court with Cheyenne’s father. One look at his handsome face, his sad eyes, the mournful lines permanently etched around them, and the room started to spin.
“Wow. You really are the woman of the evening,” Marc said as a few more people stopped by to congratulate me. People to whom I couldn’t even respond. The heavy perfume and sweaty palms assaulted me, and my body temperature skyrocketed. Cheyenne’s dad was here. Cheyenne’s devastated father. One of the two people who had insisted on reopening her case. Memories assaulted me from every angle. Memories of the way he had barely been able to speak to us on the day of her funeral. Of how he’d fallen to his knees when they released her ashes. He had loved her so much. I could only imagine what it must be like for him, standing in a room full of his daughter’s friends, knowing that by all rights she should be there too, chatting and laughing and flirting. Was he wondering who among us might have murdered his daughter? Who might have taken his one and only child from him?
“I have to get out of here,” I heard myself say. “I need some air.”
“Reed—”
I took one step toward the door and froze. Josh had just walked in. Josh. My savior. My rock. Looking gorgeous in his tux with his curls all askew. Just the sight of him made my heart leap. Why was he here? He hated Billings. Had he come for me? To support me?
Marc was saying something. Had his hand on my wrist as if to calm
me. But I couldn’t even hear him or feel him or see him. All I saw was Josh. What I wouldn’t give to have him back. To feel him hold me. To hear him tell me everything was going to be okay. I felt the longing in my gut, my heart, my skin. So acute it was painful. Suddenly I knew that was what I needed. Not to find someone else to replace him. Not to pick out the perfect specimen to make him jealous. That had all been so petty. So stupid. So vindictive. No. More than anything, I needed him. Josh was all that mattered. He would make it all right.
All I wanted was to hear his voice.
“Josh!” I shouted, not caring that half the room could hear me. “Josh!”
He smiled, but not at me. Smiled at someone coming toward him from his left. The crowd shifted and I saw her. Ivy Slade. Dressed in pure, ironic white. Smiling as Josh took her hand. And the walls crashed in around me.
“What is she doing here?” I snapped venomously.
“Who?” Marc was thoroughly confused at this point.
“After everything she’s done . . .”
I was shaking from head to foot from unadulterated anger. How dare she come here tonight? How
dare
she?
“Reed? Who are you talking about?” He followed my gaze and must have spotted Ivy. “Oh. Yeah. That’s not good,” he said, knowing Ivy was the leader of the anti-Billings brigade.
“She. Cannot. Be here.” I started forward, my eyes trained on Ivy. I was going to throw her out. I didn’t care if she’d paid to get in. She was the enemy.
“If I can have your attention, please?” Tiffany said into the microphone on our small, makeshift stage.
People started to quiet, to turn. I stayed my course. I was on a mission.
“My name is Tiffany Goulbourne, and I’d just like to start out by thanking everyone for coming out tonight.”
I was ten steps away. Ten steps away from vindication. From revenge. And then, Josh pulled Ivy to him—pulled her whole body into his—ran his hand over her cheek, and leaned in to kiss her like there was no one else in the room.
I stopped moving. Stopped breathing. Stopped being.
Her eyes fluttered closed. He deepened the kiss, his fingertips now resting lightly on her shoulder. So it was true. They were together. I had been so hoping it was all a lie. Some out-of-control rumor with a life of its own. So much for hope.
My heart took over. Took over my whole body. Pounding and slamming and panicking. Those were my hands. My lips. My fingertips. My tongue. My body. He was mine. Mine, mine, mine.
And yet there he was right in front of me, giving himself to her.
“And now I’d like to bring up the person who is responsible for this fabulous event!” Tiffany’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, Reed Brennan!”
I couldn’t move. Could not make my limbs bend. Josh and Ivy pulled apart and looked into each other’s eyes, their mutual affection blatant, and all I could do was watch.
My head swam. The floor heaved beneath my feet. I was going to faint. Actually going to faint.
“Reed? Where are you, Reed? I know you’re out there somewhere!” Tiffany chided, earning polite laughter from the crowd.
Marc stepped up behind me and nudged my arm. “Reed, you have to go. They’re waiting for you.”
Then Ivy turned and looked up at the stage. She whispered something to Josh and was off, weaving her way with determination through the maze of waiters and guests and models. Where was she going? But wait, who cared? Josh was alone now. All that mattered was—
“Reed! Let’s go!”
Suddenly the Twin Cities had me by either arm and were walking
me toward Tiffany. The moment I moved, my knees gave out and they had to hold me up for a few steps. The people right around us stared, probably thinking I was drunk. But all I could think about was Josh and Ivy. Josh and Ivy. Josh and Ivy.
How could he kiss her? How could he look at her like that? And at my event. He was supposed to love me. How could he ever look at anyone else that way? It wasn’t fair. Didn’t he know how evil she was? What she was capable of? He couldn’t have known. Would never be with her if he did. I had to tell him the truth about her. I had to tell him that I needed him. I needed—
“Hello, everyone! My name is Ivy Slade and I’m here to tell you all, well, why
you’re
really here.”
The Twin Cities stopped abruptly and we all gaped up at the stage. Somehow Ivy had gotten the microphone away from Tiffany and was now addressing the rapt crowd.
“This is not a fund-raiser for Easton Academy,” Ivy said quickly, vehemently. “It’s a PR job for Billings House. You remember Billings House. That tall dorm on the edge of campus where lived the most awful girls at the academy?”
There were a few chuckles. The rest of the Billings Girls, who were dotted throughout the room, started to mobilize. Tiffany, who until now had been standing aside looking baffled, reached for the microphone, but Ivy dodged her and slid away.
“You know those girls who always seemed to get away with everything that no one else could get away with? The girls who wielded their power and money over the school as if
they
were running the place?”
Ivy continued, pacing. “Well, guess what? This year they were finally caught. They were finally going to be brought to justice. But shocker of all shockers, they wrangled a deal. If they make five million dollars tonight, their precious house will not be dissolved, as it should have been long ago. See, they’re using people again to get what they want. More specifically, they’re using you and your hard-earned money to save their own skins. Is that what you want? Haven’t the Billings Girls done enough damage already?”
My heart was in my toes. First Josh and now this. I looked wildly around at the esteemed guests and tried to find Josh. Tried to see his reaction to this, to see if he’d known this was coming, but I was unable to focus on any one face. All I could see was a lot of nodding and pinched expressions. All I could hear were knowing whispers. Her words were hitting home. This was working. Her evil plan was working.
“Reed! Do something!” Vienna said through her teeth.
“You have to get up there. Stop her,” London added, letting go of my arm.
But I was frozen. My throat was dry. My head a complete fog. “I . . . I can’t. I can’t.”
This was it. This was the beginning of my nervous breakdown. Ivy had won. She had won Josh. She had destroyed Billings. Destroyed me. And I was so shaken, so broken, so crushed, that I couldn’t think of a single word to stop her.
“For years, the women of Billings have been making our lives a living hell,” Ivy continued, “but we can end this now. Don’t give them your money! Don’t support the hypocrisy!”
“Omigod, enough. Reed! You have to shut her up,” Vienna said.
Then she shoved me forward so hard I almost tripped into the stairs that led to the stage. Tiffany couldn’t have looked more relieved to see me, but Ivy simply smirked.
“Oh, look, it’s Reed Brennan, president of Billings,” she said as she sneered down her nose at me. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m dying to hear what she has to say in her defense.”
Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to me. I was frozen in terror.
“Come on up, Reed! What are you waiting for?”
Ivy descended two steps, grabbed my arm, and dragged me up next to her, practically dislocating my shoulder. She shoved the microphone into my hand and stepped back. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I stared out at the crowd, but all I could see were Josh’s lips on Ivy’s, Cheyenne’s dead body on the floor, her name in my in-box ten thousand times over, the note, the black marbles, the perfume bottle, the stain on the sleeve of the pink sweater. All of it. All of it reeled through my mind at a sickening speed. I was so dizzy, so disoriented, so confused, I actually reached for Ivy for support, but she flinched away and I almost went down.
“Oops. I think our hostess might be a little buzzed,” Ivy shouted, amused.
Somehow I righted myself, but the laughter her comment elicited stung every inch of my skin. What was I doing here? Why were all these people looking to me? I didn’t belong here. I was nobody. I was just a loser from Pennsylvania who had been dumped and stalked and nearly driven out of my mind.
This was it. This was where it all fell apart.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out of nowhere. “I’m sorry, I—”
And then a strong hand came down on my shoulder. I sensed it was Noelle before I even saw her. She reached around me, slipped the microphone right out of my hand, and stepped to the front of the stage.
“Thank you, Ivy, for the unplanned entertainment,” she began with a smile, coaxing out a few laughs from the crowd. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Noelle Lange, and I am a senior at Easton Academy and at Billings House. I just want to go on the record as saying that almost everything Ivy has just told you . . . is true.”
There were a few gasps and some stunned silence. No one was expecting that. I stepped back and hugged my now freezing-cold arms. Watched her as if I was watching a film, a play—something from which I was completely detached.
“Our living arrangements were put in jeopardy due to some unfortunate incidents earlier this year, true, and it is also true that we asked Headmaster Cromwell for a second chance,” Noelle continued. “He agreed that the best way for us to prove our loyalty to Easton would be for us to throw a fund-raiser for the school and so, here we are. Just to clear things up, you should know that any money you donate this evening will be going directly to the Easton Academy board of trustees, to be used at their discretion. Billings will have no further involvement with the funds.”
She glanced at Ivy, who looked angry enough to spit. But she stayed where she was, as if waiting for her next opening. Not that Noelle was about to give her one.
“Now, as for the accusations about the behavior of the Billings Girls, all I can say is, Ivy is right,” Noelle continued. “We have, in the past, used our power and position on campus to get the things we wanted, but all that has changed this year. This year’s new house members were chosen by the administration, not by the residents of Billings. They were chosen for their academic merit, their service to the school, their morals and standards. They are the best of what Easton has to offer.”
She looked down at our friends, who had now gathered in front of the stage, like a mother hen looking down at her freshly hatched chicks.
“They deserve a chance to make Billings what it should be,” Noelle continued. “They shouldn’t have to pay for the crimes, whether real or perceived,” she said, pointedly looking at Ivy, “of those of us who came before.
“They are the new Billings, and the new Billings is about sisterhood, about strength, about doing what’s right and putting forth the best image we can for Easton,” Noelle continued. “That’s where your hard-earned money is going tonight. To building a better Billings, a better Easton, a better future.” She paused and looked around the room, driving her message home to each and every member of her audience. “Are you really going to let one misguided party crasher get in the way of all that?” she asked, lifting a blithe hand toward Ivy.