“Yes, ma’am,” the handsome driver said.
He hit a button over his head and a tinted window slid up, shutting him off from the rest of us. Natasha lifted herself up to mess with a stereo that was set into the ceiling. Two seconds later, party music filled the car. This was definitely a whole new brand of kidnapping.
“Here you go, Reed. Drink up,” Noelle said, handing me a full glass.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on here?” I asked.
“We’re taking you for a spa day!” Taylor cried, downing her champagne in one gulp.
“Kiran knows this exclusive place in Boston,” Ariana explained, smoothing her slim skirt. “Only models and movie stars are allowed.”
“And a few politicians,” Kiran said, sipping her drink. “As long as they’re dating models or movie stars.”
“We got Suzel to pull a few strings and get us all day passes,” Noelle said with a smile. “Love her!” she trilled.
“To Suzel!” the girls cheered, clinking glasses and sipping their champagne.
“What’s a Suzel?” I asked.
“Suzel. Susan Llewelyn. Board member. Former Billings Girl. Love her,” Kiran sang.
“To Suzel!” the girls all cheered again. Another clink. Another sip.
“Suzel thought you deserved a day of distraction,” Ariana said. “So this is it.”
I found it interesting that Suzel had an opinion on what I might deserve, considering I’d never met the woman.
“Your day,” Taylor said with a smile.
“To get your mind off things,” Natasha told me, looking me in the eye.
“Exactly! We’re here for you, Reed,” Noelle said. “Massage, facial, manicure, pedicure. Whatever you need to make you feel relaxed. It’s all about you.”
I looked at her in her perfect jeans and cozy turtleneck sweater, her thick hair washed and shining and giving off a rich, clean scent. Meanwhile, I smelled like I needed a shower, and I knew I looked ridiculous, my feet sticking out of my pajama pants in my sneakers. I could only imagine what my hair was doing—probably being greasy and knotted and frizzed.
“Really? So what was the kidnapping thing all about?” I asked.
“Oh, that? That was payback,” she said, taking a slug from her glass.
“Payback is her favorite pastime!” Kiran said, lifting a glass toward Noelle. Everyone else lifted theirs as well, as if this, too, was something to celebrate. Everyone other than Natasha, who had reasons
not
to rejoice over Noelle’s mind games.
“You didn’t really think you’d get away with yesterday’s little performance without any repercussions, did you?”
Noelle smiled teasingly, and somehow I found myself smiling back. Love her or hate her, this was Noelle. And as I was being whisked off campus in a limousine on my way to a day of beauty at an exclusive spa, I decided to choose “love her.”
For now, anyway.
“London is
not
getting a reduct,” Kiran cried, pushing herself out of her cushy chair as her aesthetician finished her facial. She walked over to a slatted-wood counter, where twelve fresh mimosas were lined up, and grabbed one. “That girl lives for those double-D’s.”
“I’m just telling you what I heard,” Taylor replied with a shrug.
“Call me crazy, but I don’t believe half the stuff I hear at Easton,” Natasha said wryly. A direct commentary on the other girls in the room, I knew.
“I thought you were supposed to be resting quietly,” Noelle commented.
Natasha smiled beatifically. She was still lying back in her own chair with a cold blue pillow over her eyes, breathing in and out as instructed. Up until a few minutes ago, Kiran, Natasha, and I had been alone in the small, orange-blossom-scented room with our spa worker bees, but Noelle, Ariana, and Taylor had just rejoined us, having finished their treatments.
“Anyway, Taylor, you’re missing an important detail of the story,” Noelle said, laying her
W
magazine aside.
Her facial having been finished just a few minutes before, she now sat on the leather couch in the corner with her face covered in purple shellac. Her hair was back in a white towel and her diamond earrings sparkled in her ears. She crossed her legs and her white, waffle-weave robe—standard issue from the spa and exactly like the ones we all wore—fell open to expose her entire thigh.
“London
floated
the rumor that she was getting a reduction so that Vienna would book one over Christmas break,” Noelle told us.
“You know how the Twin Cities always need to one-up each other,” Ariana put in. She stood against the wall, her arms crossed over her stomach and her legs crossed at the ankle. Her blond hair practically glowed in the soft pink light.
“The idea is that Vienna will come back from break all deflated,” Noelle continued. “And London—”
“Will be the only Pam Anderson on campus,” Kiran said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Now that’s ingenious.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t buy it,” Natasha said, still blinded. “This is London we’re talking about. You know, the girl who asked me if strawberry milk would turn her bones pink?”
“She did not,” Ariana said, her jaw dropping.
“Hand to God,” Natasha replied, lifting a hand. “The best part being, of course, that I think she
wanted
them to be pink.”
Everyone laughed, including me and the girl working on my
face, whose name was Teresa. She shook her head as she finished touching up the area near my temples.
“Your friends are a rare breed,” she said with a slight Italian accent.
“Tell me about it,” I replied with a smile.
“Okay, you’re all done,” she told me. “Just relax for twenty minutes and then we’ll come give you the final scrub and toner.”
“Thank you,” I told her, sitting up.
She handed me a glass of cucumber water and slipped from the room. A smile had attached itself to my face without my even thinking about it. My whole body felt so relaxed, it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. Every person on the planet should get a massage and facial every month. It should be an accepted part of normal life, like checkups or haircuts. I could only imagine how much more chill my mother would be if she was able to get pampered every once in a while. Maybe my childhood wouldn’t have been all psychodrama all the time. Maybe she wouldn’t feel the need to pop all those pills and take out any residual anger on me.
“You look happy,” Ariana said, sipping her mimosa.
“I think I am happy,” I said.
Noelle and Ariana exchanged an approving, triumphant look. At that moment, one of the cell phones lined up on the bench near the wall trilled. I recognized my ring and jumped down to get it. My heart gave a flutter when I saw Josh’s name on the caller ID.
“Who is it?” Ariana asked.
“It’s Josh.”
I was about to flip the phone open when Noelle grabbed it out of my hand. “No men.” She turned the phone off and placed it in the pocket of her robe.
“But I—”
“Eh! This is
our
day,” Noelle said, lifting her finger. “No men.”
I glanced at her pocket. What was I going to do, tackle her? Not likely. No one wanted to see the repercussions of
that
. Instead, I surrendered. I was not going to argue now. Not when I was feeling this good.
“Josh, huh?” Kiran said. “You two sure have been talking a lot lately.”
Everyone was staring at me now, their faces green and purple and white. They were all silent, and for the first time since Noelle and the others had joined us, the soothing bamboo flute music that was being piped in from hidden speakers was actually discernable. I felt the familiar sourness of Thomas-guilt creeping over my shoulders and into my chest, but I refused to let it settle.
“I thought the rule was ‘no men,’” I said, walking over to get a drink. “So I suggest we change the subject.”
“She’s right,” Ariana said lightly. “What were we talking about again?”
“What
were
we talking about?” Kiran said, dropping her empty glass and reaching for another. “Oh, yes! Plastic surgery. Would you guys ever do it?”
“Are you kidding? To maintain this?” Noelle said, pointing at
her purple face. “Of course. In fact . . .” She looked around conspiratorially as she slid back into one of the facial chairs. “I’ve already done it.”
“You have?” I gasped.
“No! How did I not know this?” Kiran demanded.
“Come on, people. A nose like this does not exist in nature,” Noelle said.
I stared at her nose. It
was
darn perfect. But I couldn’t believe that Noelle hadn’t been born her own, beautiful self. It felt almost wrong somehow, that she was even slightly less blessed that I’d believed.
“I had my chin fixed,” Kiran put in. “When I was twelve.”
“Your parents let you do that?” Natasha asked, appalled.
“My mother insisted on it,” Kiran said with a shrug. “She said I’d never have a career with my wicked-witch chin, so . . . slice!”
She made a cutting motion with her hand under her chin. I cringed. This was very enlightening.
“Oh my God. That is just evil,” Taylor said. “Even for your mother.”
“Clarissa Hayes has been evil as long as I’ve known her,” Noelle said matter-of-factly.
Kiran stared at a fixed point somewhere on the floor. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have a billboard in New York if she wasn’t.”
She swallowed an entire glassful of mimosa in one gulp.
“Has anyone else in Billings had something done?” Natasha asked. I got the idea she was changing the subject for Kiran’s sake,
rather than because of any real lust for dirt. Aside from the strawberry milk story, I’d never known her to gossip.
“I heard Cheyenne took growth hormones from age ten because the doctors predicted she’d only be four-eleven,” Taylor said.
“So obvious,” Noelle said. “Check the arms. Have you ever seen her sitting in class? They practically drag on the floor!”
Soon everyone was laughing and gossiping and drinking away any uncomfortableness caused by Josh’s call or Kiran’s evil mom. I had nothing to contribute, so I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes, and listened to the chatter.
As Natasha and I padded back down the hallway after our manicures and pedicures in our spa-issue slippers, I was perfectly relaxed. My face tingled, my nails were thick with polish, and my feet were softer than pillows. Was this how Kiran and the other girls felt all the time, just walking around on a normal day? Because if so, I could almost understand why they acted so superior. I felt undeniably beautiful.
I wished Thomas could see me. And when I wished it, sorrow seeped into my heart. But it was a softer kind of sorrow than the red-hot anger and confusion I had been feeling for so long. It was a nostalgic, wistful sorrow. A kind that didn’t send me hurtling over the edge.
“So, was this a good idea?” Natasha whispered. There was something about the hushed, opulent vibe of this place that made a person want to whisper. “I wasn’t sure.”
“It was a great idea,” I told her. “I almost feel like myself again. Whatever that means.”
Natasha’s freshly waxed brows came together. “I don’t think anyone really knows what that means.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel
better
or if it’s just really, really sad,” I replied. We both smirked. Deep conversations were for another time.
I pushed open the slatted door to the locker area and stopped. Instantly, I recognized the distinct snorts and sniffles of Taylor’s sobs. Natasha and I exchanged a look and neither of us moved. A silent agreement. Suddenly I felt all kinds of close to her. We were conspiring together. Me and Natasha. Considering how much conspiring had been done all around and about me since my arrival at Easton, it felt sort of good to be on the other side.
“It’s going to be okay,” Kiran said in a soothing voice. I’d never heard her sound so gentle. “Taylor, please. Just try to calm down.”
Taylor gasped in a breath. “I just . . . I just . . . I just . . . can’t—”
“I can’t take this anymore,” Noelle said. “Taylor, I swear to God, if you don’t freaking chill the hell out in the next five seconds, I cannot be held responsible for the shit fit I’m going to throw.”
Taylor whimpered, like a hungry dog that had just been kicked by its master. Natasha’s and my eyes met. All right, enough was enough. I was “one of them” now, wasn’t I? Hadn’t they told me that a dozen times? No more secrets and all of that. I had to know what was going on in there.
And saving Taylor from whatever Noelle’s “shit fit” would bring seemed like a wise idea.
“Hey, guys!” I said, striding into the small room as if I had just walked in. Natasha, on the ball as ever, fell right in behind me. I looked around at Noelle, Taylor, Ariana, and Kiran, who stood in a square in the center of the room. “Everything okay?”
Taylor turned away from me and ran for the bathroom.
“Where did you come from?” Kiran asked.
“We just got back and I heard Taylor crying,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s just freaking out because she was rejected from that summer program at Harvard,” Noelle said, turning to her locker. “She just called home and found out.”
“Getting in would have guaranteed her a spot in their freshman class year after next,” Ariana explained. “She so wants to go there,” she added, looking pityingly toward the bathroom.
“And on top of everything else that’s been happening . . .” Kiran said.
I instantly felt horrible for begrudging Taylor all her tears and mood swings. Somehow I had forgotten that every one of us had other stuff going on. All Taylor’s notebooks and folders were stamped with the Harvard University logo. I knew she wanted to go there more than anything and that everyone at Easton, and in her family, expected her to. There was a lot of pressure on her to succeed. Maybe Thomas’s death was just screwing with her already raw emotions.
“That sucks,” Natasha said. She crossed the room and opened her own locker. “But there has to be someone she could talk to. It’s not like we have no connections at Harvard.”
Right. Didn’t being a Billings Girl guarantee things like this? Automatic acceptance to whatever one wanted acceptance to?