My bird was still eating when Noelle walked in without knocking. Old habits were hard to break, I supposed.
“Rise and shine, Glass-Licker. It’s time for our appointments with the seamstress,” she said, going straight to the mirror and pushing her thick hair back from her face. In a very out-of-character move for this time of morning, Noelle was already showered, her hair blown dry, and she was dressed in a sleeveless white dress and leather sandals.
“Okay. I’ll jump in the shower,” I said with a yawn, lying back on my sheets.
“Reed, this is no time to be lazy!” Noelle scolded lightly. She walked over to the end of the bed and pulled on my ankles, yanking me down across the mattress. “
Vogue
is letting us use their seamstress as a personal favor to Tassos. We can’t be late.”
“All right, all right.”
Just then, the bird finished his meal and started to sing again. Noelle glanced over at the window, noticing him for the first time, and her face screwed up in annoyance.
“That’s your bird? He’s totally irritating.”
“No, he’s not!” I protested, sitting up. “I love him.”
“Oh my God, you’re such a loser,” Noelle said with a laugh. “All I
know is that if I had to wake up to that every morning, I’d be committing bird-i-cide.”
I arched my brows. “Bird-i-cide? Really?”
“Don’t judge me. It’s early,” she said. “Now get the hell up.”
The bird suddenly squawked and took off, as if something had startled him. My heart hit my throat, and I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. Something outside the window, down on the beach below. My stomach churning with nerves, I jumped up and placed my hands on the windowsill, craning my neck to see out.
“What’s the matter?” Noelle asked, coming up next to me.
“I swear there was someone out there,” I said. “Someone was staring at my window, and they spooked the bird.”
Noelle stood on her tiptoes and looked up and down the beach in both directions. The bushes just outside blocked some of the view, making it impossible to see very far. “Reed, there’s no one there.”
“Maybe I just imagined it,” I said lightly, stepping back from the window.
But I knew I had seen something—someone. A chill raced down my back, and I hugged my arms. Had someone been watching us? Was someone spying on me? And if so, who could it have been? And why?
“Come on. Shower time,” Noelle said, grabbing my shoulders and steering me toward the bathroom.
“I’m on it,” I told her, thinking the warm water might help me clear my mind. Make me realize it had all been a figment of my imagination. Because one thing I did not want for Christmas was a stalker.
By midafternoon on Sunday, I had made a serious decision about the rest of my life.
I did not want to be a model.
These poor girls. Kiran and the rest of the models spent the entire day on the beach, half clothed, with men they didn’t know splashing water on them. The meager clothing they did have on was pinned in a million places, and the pins looked like they were jabbing into their skin whenever they moved. Half their time was spent waiting and shivering in the surprisingly cool breeze coming off the ocean while Tassos and Tiff fixed the lighting or checked the exposure or adjusted some meter or another. When craft services showed up with lunch—heaps and heaps of salads and sandwiches and pastries—all they consumed was water. I think I saw Kiran eat a slice of cucumber, but she did it so fast I couldn’t be sure.
Meanwhile, Noelle, Taylor, Amberly, and I all sat on a flat gray rock
in the sand, chowing down on chicken salad and coffee and watching the proceedings. I, for one, was bored. The whole thing had been glamorous and exciting for the first half hour—the gorgeous people, the racks of expensive clothing, the makeup and hair artists at the ready with their tool belts full of products—but really, it was just a lot of standing around.
With all the downtime, my thoughts kept wandering back to that blur I’d seen outside my window the previous morning. Had someone really been there, or had I just been acting paranoid? I so wished I could rewind my life to check what I’d missed, the way I could on the Billings parlor DVR. As two of the models began posing in ankle-deep water, each wearing mod bathing suits made up of skinny spandex strips taped to their bodies in strategic places, Noelle nudged me with her elbow, waking me from my thoughts.
“You can see that girl’s entire nipple,” she whispered.
“Which one?” I asked, squinting.
“The one on our left,” Taylor put in. “It’s so obvious. Right through the bathing suit.”
I looked away. “Ew. This isn’t
SI
.”
“
SI
?” Amberly asked.
“
Sports Illustrated
,” I clarified with a sneer.
“You don’t have to be so condescending all the time,” Amberly said, shifting her position. “Like knowing
Sports Illustrated
is something to be haughty about anyway.”
“
I’m
condescending?” I hissed, leaning forward so I could see her past Noelle. “Who’s the person who spent an entire week talking
down to me, tossing dry-cleaning bills at my feet, calling me Glass-Licker and—oh wait, I almost forgot—
trashing
my room and stealing from me?”
Amberly’s eyes went wide. “I asked you for those things, and you wouldn’t give them to me! What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, how about
not
breaking into my room and destroying half my stuff?” I shouted.
“Ladies! Ladies! You two are going to need to kiss and make up,” Noelle said, lacing together her fingers and resting them on her lap. “Because there is only one vacancy in Billings next semester and guess what—it’s in Amberly’s room.”
Wait. Noelle expected me to live with Amberly? In the room I used to share with Sabine? Why not just lock me in the house with the psycho neighbor from
Disturbia
and leave me there?
“You want us to live together?” Amberly blurted, spilling iced coffee on her exposed toes. She quickly wiped it up and tucked the wet napkin in the pocket of her silk cardigan.
“Can’t I live with Constance?” I asked, my hands pressing into the cold, hard rock on either side of me. “I’m sure that Amberly, as a
freshman,
wouldn’t mind splitting the triple with Kiki and Astrid.”
“No way! I am not living in a triple!” Amberly protested. “Constance can come live with me.”
“Well, isn’t this interesting?” Noelle said, tossing back her hair and taking a sip of her coffee. “Looks like you two both have a reason to kiss my ass for the next few days.”
Taylor laughed as Amberly and I glared at each other. Noelle could not be serious. But she sure looked serious. I couldn’t believe it. Noelle was pitting me against Amberly?
“You guys! Dad’s calling it a wrap! Do you want to take some pictures?” Tiffany called out, her oversize white shirt billowing in the breeze from down by the water.
“Definitely!” Noelle replied with a grin. She turned to pick up her plate and cup, but Amberly pounced on them.
“I’ll get those for you!” she said with a smile.
“Well, thank you, Amberly,” Noelle replied.
Amberly shot me a narrow-eyed look of triumph and walked off toward the garbage can next to the craft service table. I jogged after Noelle, who was already on her way to the makeup area—two chairs set up in front of huge mirrors lodged in the white sand.
“You’re not really going to make me compete with her, are you?” I asked. “I’m a junior. I used to be president of the house. And you like me better!”
“All of that may be true, but you both want the same thing, and there has to be a fair way to decide who gets it,” Noelle said as she sat in the first makeup chair.
“So whoever does more crap for you over the next few days gets to live with Constance, and whoever doesn’t has to live in the triple?” I said. “How is that fair?”
“It’s fair because I’m the president of Billings now, and I say it’s fair,” Noelle replied. “What could be more Billings than a good old-fashioned competition?”
Taylor smirked as she slipped into the second chair and pushed back her curls behind her ears.
“Come on, Glass-Licker. It’ll be fun,” Noelle said. “Just like old times.”
“Yeah. Way fun,” I said sarcastically.
Noelle shot me an admonishing look, and then glanced at the hovering makeup artist. “I’m thinking earth tones for the eyes. Reed, would you mind getting me a bottle of water? I’m parched.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. I could just walk away. Tell her to shove it. Living in Pemberly wasn’t all bad. . . .
Oh, who was I kidding? I hated Pemberly. And I was not about to share a triple. No way, no how.
“Fine. Water it is.”
“With a squeeze of lemon,” Noelle said, raising a finger. “
Just
a squeeze.”
I trudged past Taylor, who giggled and sang the word “freedom” under her breath. I paused for a second to glare at her.
“What? I’m sorry, but you totally walked into that one,” she said, earning a pleased smile from Noelle.
It was all I could do to keep from dunking Taylor’s face into the huge vat of powder on the counter in front of her. I had thought that Noelle and I were friends now. Equals. But Taylor was, unfortunately, right. If there was one constant with Noelle, it was that she lived for power, and Amberly and I had just dangled the perfect opportunity for power right in front of her salivating choppers.
I managed to avoid morphing into Noelle’s slave by hanging out only with Upton for the next few days. We went for a hike to a gorgeous, secluded waterfall and explored some frigidly cold caves. We lay out in the sand, occasionally reading to each other when something seemed too good to keep to ourselves. We ate most of our meals on the beach just the two of us, avoiding Shutters and the crew-related drama.
And we made out. A lot. Pretty much everywhere we went. It was next to impossible to keep from kissing him, and he seemed to feel the same way about me.
Being with Upton kept me from thinking about a lot of things I probably would have been obsessing about otherwise. Like the Amberly situation, the Josh situation, the stalker situation. Luckily, there were no more disturbing feelings of being watched. I didn’t know if Upton’s constant presence at my side had scared off the
stalker, or if I had just imagined the whole thing. Either way, I was more than fine with it being over.
Finally, on Christmas Eve, I met Upton’s parents. Not because we were at that stage in our relationship or anything, but because every year the Giles family welcomed the entire group and their families to their home for Christmas Eve dinner. So there I was, in a red flutter-sleeved wrap dress I’d borrowed from Kiran, meeting my vacation fling’s parents on one of the biggest holidays of the year.
Or was he my vacation boyfriend now? Did saving my life make him my boyfriend? In that case, Josh was my boyfriend, too. And he definitely was
not
my boyfriend. He was Ivy’s. So by that logic, Upton was still just a fling.
And my brain was starting to hurt.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Giles,” I said, offering my hand to the tall blond woman with a gazellelike neck. She wore a white cashmere turtleneck sweater, black thin-wale corduroys and red velvet shoes, as if we were snowbound in the northeast rather than kicking back in the islands. They even had the AC jacked up to arctic levels, so that those of us who had dressed climate appropriately were starting to get goose bumps. Apparently the Giles family really wanted to pretend it was a white Christmas. At least Mrs. Giles’s smile was genuinely warm as she shook my hand, her chunky gold bracelet sliding up and down her thin wrist.
“The pleasure is all mine, Reed. Upton can’t seem to stop talking about you,” she said. “I feel I know you as well as a character in a novel I’ve read a hundred times.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a laugh.
“Considering that Upton rarely talks about any of his friends with us, I’d say it’s a very good thing,” his father chimed in, taking a sip from his mug of hot cider. With his balding head; small, square glasses; and full tweed suit and tie, he looked like the stereotype of a college professor.
“Thanks for that, Father,” Upton said.
Mr. Giles lifted his glass again in acknowledgment.
“Come on, Reed, let’s go in by the fire,” Upton suggested, putting his arm around me. “Stop my parents from embarrassing me further.”
Mr. and Mrs. Giles laughed good-naturedly as we walked away. That had gone well. At least they hadn’t treated me the way Mrs. Ryan had. We walked by Noelle and Kiran, who were standing with their parents and Taylor, chatting and laughing. Noelle shot me an approving look, as if congratulating me on charming the elder Gileses. I smiled back and just hoped that she wouldn’t make me fetch any drinks for her or run back to the house to get her a sweater. That could be embarrassing.
“What’s with the winter vibe in here?” I whispered to Upton.
“My parents hate being on the island for Christmas,” he replied, moving his hand to the small of my back to steer me around the Ryan family, who were standing in a klatch with Sienna in the center of the living room. All five of them shot us cold looks as we passed. Upton didn’t seem to notice. “They only come these days because it’s tradition, and they don’t want to be the first to break code.”
“God forbid,” I said, pausing by the fire.
Unlike all the other open, airy island homes I had visited over the past few days, this house was all cozy old-world elegance. The walls were covered with ornate wallpaper in reds, greens, and golds. The floor was waxed hardwood, dotted with antique rugs, and the furniture was carved wood and overstuffed upholstery. There was a roaring fire in the brick fireplace with stockings hung over it, and a gigantic Christmas tree blocking the entire window—and therefore, the view of the beach.
Upton nodded and took a sip of his eggnog. “They renovated a couple of years ago and transformed this room and the dining room into exact replicas of our house on High Street in London.”