I hoisted my gym bag on my shoulder as I came around the building toward the front door. The moment I got there, Ariana stepped out from the alcove, scaring me nearly to death.
“Hey,” she said. She clutched a couple of notebooks to her chest.
“Hi.”
Was she waiting for me?
“How was practice?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. This was strange. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do or say. I racked my brain and came up with a fabulously original question. “What team do you play for?”
At Easton, everyone had to play at least one sport. Something about fulfilling a physical fitness requirement. I didn’t pay much
attention to it because I would be playing, sports requirement or no.
“Oh, I don’t,” she said. Then, off my confused look, “Health reasons.”
“Oh.” She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t feel like she wanted me to ask. Of course, now I had one more thing to obsess about. What could Ariana possibly have that would preclude her from fulfilling her physical fitness requirement?
“So . . . making friends?” she asked.
“I guess,” I said.
“How’s your floor?” she asked.
“It’s . . . good,” I said. Constance seemed okay and Diana was nice enough.
“What about guys?”
My mind instantly flashed on Thomas and I felt the cool metal of the subway token against my sweat-caked skin. The Billings Girls had to respect a girl who caught the attention of a hot senior on her first day at Easton, didn’t they?
“Well, I met this one guy . . .,” I said.
“Thomas Pearson,” she said flatly.
I blinked, surprised. Her tone had all the warmth of black ice.
“I saw you guys talking,” she explained. She stepped away from the door, closer to me, as a few girls returned from field hockey practice, laughing and rehashing a play. I felt a flash of jealousy.
“Reed.”
“Sorry,” I said. What was I thinking, letting my attention
wander from the one person who had been nice to me today? The one person whose attention I would kill for.
“So, you like him?” Ariana asked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, even though my pulse raced at the very thought of him. Thomas was gorgeous, no doubt. And intriguing and funny. But he was also clearly a player. And I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to get involved with someone like that just then. Flirt with? Fine. Get involved with? Another story.
Ariana’s eyes narrowed. “Most girls can’t resist a guy like Thomas Pearson,” she said. “He has that . . .”
Ridiculously sexy quality?
“Dangerous thing going,” she finished.
She gazed at me intently, as if gauging my reaction to this assessment.
“Yeah, I could see that,” I said nonchalantly. Beautiful and rich and smart and cocky and lascivious? Yeah. That added up to dangerous. “If you go for that type of thing,” I added. “Which I don’t.”
Normally.
But even if I was considering potentially going for it now, she didn’t need to know that. Especially if she, for some reason, had some kind of problem with Thomas, as her tone suggested. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was come off as boy crazy. I wanted to come off as cool. Sophisticated. Above it all. Like she was.
Ariana smiled slowly and seemed to glow from within. “You should sit with us tomorrow,” she said. “At breakfast.”
My heart didn’t beat for a good five seconds.
“Really?” I said, sounding a little too excited.
“I’d like to get to know you better,” she said. “We all would.”
So they had talked about me. Discussed me. Behind my back. The thought was disconcerting. After such a short time on campus, I already had people talking about me.
But wait . . . did I care? This could be the beginning—the beginning of me getting everything I had hoped for. If they had talked about me, great. Apparently they had seen something they liked. Though what that might be, I had no idea.
“Okay then,” I said finally, smothering my giddy glee. “I’m there.”
Ariana was seated alone at her table when I arrived the next morning, wearing a white sundress and a blue scarf. I wasn’t sure if she had gotten there early on my behalf, but I was relieved to see her. Approaching her when she was on her own was a lot easier than the alternative. I kept expecting her to look up from her book as I got closer, but she never did. Finally I was left standing there, hovering, feeling awkward. Maybe it
had
been a joke. Or maybe she had forgotten. Could she really not have noticed the shadow I was casting on her pages?
“Uh . . . Ariana?” I said, prickling with heat.
She raised her head, confused. Oh, God. She
had
forgotten. From the look on her face she didn’t even know who I was.
“Sorry,” I said automatically.
I was about to retreat when her expression cleared and she smiled. “Hi, Reed,” she said. “Sit here.”
She pulled out the chair next to hers, in the interior of the table. Relief flooded my body, I walked behind her and placed my tray on the table, then hung my bag on the back of the chair.
“Not hungry?” she said, eyeing my meager breakfast of dry toast and coffee.
Starving, actually.
I just hadn’t been sure what would constitute a sanctioned breakfast at the Billings table, so I had played it safe. On Ariana’s tray was a half-eaten fruit cup, two pieces of toast, and a bowl of dry Lucky Charms. My stomach grumbled at the sight of it all—inaudibly, thank God.
“I’m not a big breakfast person,” I lied. Then wanted to kick myself when I realized that if I ended up sitting here again, I was going to have to stick to that.
“I love breakfast,” Ariana said lightly, picking up one purple horseshoe marshmallow and placing it in her mouth. “I would eat it three times a day if I could.”
I smiled. Her serenity had a calming affect on me. “It’s quiet here in the morning,” I said, looking around as students trailed blearily in through the double doors.
“That’s why I like it,” Ariana said. “Much better for reading.”
Just then, two girls walked over and took the two opposing seats at the far end of the table. I recognized them from the Billings crowd on my first morning. One had dark skin, jet-black hair, and a Victoria’s Secret–worthy body under her jeans and white shirt. The other had straight blond hair that hung halfway down her back. Her outfit was trendy, but a touch
too
trendy, as if she had spent far too much time finding the exact right belt to match the exact right bag to match the exact right shoes. Both shot me confused looks as they sat.
“Hi,” the girl said as she removed a magazine from her bag.
The National Review
. There was a picture of the Democrat donkey on the
cover with a noose around its neck. No one I knew ever read political magazines. Not even the adults. “You are?”
“This is Reed,” Ariana answered before I could. “Reed, that’s Natasha Crenshaw and Leanne Shore.”
“Hi,” I said with a nervous smile.
“Does
Noelle
know you’re sitting here?” Leanne asked with a sneer.
My smile drooped.
“She’s about to,” Ariana said coolly.
Just then, Noelle emerged from the food line, trailed by Taylor, Kiran, and Dash. She smiled hungrily at us and my stomach turned. What had I been thinking, believing that this was a good idea?
“Good morning, glass-licker!” Noelle said, dropping her tray across from Ariana.
My face went red instantly.
Bad idea. Big bad idea.
“Glass-licker?” Leanne said. “Oh! Right! You’re the
les
bian,” she said in a husky voice. Natasha smirked as she opened her mag and Leanne laughed, enjoying her own joke.
Ariana brought her book down and glared not at Leanne, but at Noelle. Amazingly, Noelle blushed as well. Ariana could make Noelle blush. Good to know.
“
Sorry!
” Noelle said, rolling her eyes. “Hi,
Reed
,” she said pointedly. Then she sat down and scoffed. “Touchy, touchy.” She slung her bag over her chair and rolled her eyes. “God, Leanne. Can you shut it?”
Leanne’s mouth snapped closed, silencing her laughter. She turned beet red under her makeup.
Ariana brought her book back up and continued to read. It was all I could do to keep the grin off my face. Kiran took a chair across the way and flipped open her Sidekick. Around her neck a large diamond pendant flashed in the sun, nearly blinding me as she settled in. She wore a tiny, soft-looking lemon-colored sweater, black skirt, and kitten heels, all of which screamed
money.
If she sold that outfit, she could probably buy my house with the proceeds. But then I supposed that having your bod on an NYC billboard paid a pretty penny.
Taylor—much more my speed in jeans and a preppy polo—shot me a curious look as she slid behind me and sat down to my right. She did, however, also have large diamond studs in her ears.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Taylor.”
“She
knows,
” Noelle said impatiently.
Taylor’s cheeks turned pink.
“I’m Reed,” I said, trying to make her feel better.
“She knows that, too. What are we all, retarded?” Noelle asked.
Natasha sighed and looked up from her magazine. “Noelle. I’d rather you not use that word. At least not around me.”
“Sorry, Princess PC. Did you want to slap my wrist?” Noelle said, offering her arm over Kiran’s Sidekick. Kiran clucked her tongue and leaned back so she could see.
“That’S won’t be necessary,” Natasha said with a smirk.
“Natasha considers herself the moral center of Easton,” Noelle told me.
“Well, it’s not like any of the rest of you are gunning for the job,” Natasha said with false sweetness.
Noelle stuck her finger in her mouth.
Alrighty, then.
“So, Reed, do you like it here so far?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah. Definitely,” I said.
“You’re from Pennsylvania, right?” she asked brightly. “Is it like your old school?”
I glanced at Noelle. Had she told the others where I was from?
“She already memorized all the textbooks in this place, so she’s moved on to yearbooks and new student rosters,” Noelle explained.
“Did you know that less that two percent of all Easton students and alumni were from Pennsylvania? Isn’t that weird?” Taylor asked. “I mean, considering it’s such a big state.”
I swallowed hard. Less than 2 percent, huh? So I
was
a huge novelty.
“What do you think of your teachers?” Taylor put in eagerly. “What classes are you taking? Do you have Corcoran for Trig?”
“I—“
“Taylor, you don’t need to give her the third degree,” Ariana said lightly.
Taylor’s face turned pink. “Sorry,” she said.
“She needs to know everything,” Noelle explained.
“As if she doesn’t already,” Natasha said under her breath.
Taylor ducked her head, hiding behind her curls, and my heart went out to her. Even though I was relieved to be out from under the microscope.
Just then, Dash dropped down across from me and cleared a curl away from his eyes with a flick of his head. Up close, I could see he was even handsomer than I had realized. With his square jaw, warm brown eyes, and perfect skin he looked like an Abercrombie ad come to life.
“Dash McCafferty,” he said by way of greeting. “You’re the girl with the sweet feet.”
Noelle glanced at me suspiciously.
“You should’ve seen the way this girl kicked the football the other day,” he said to Noelle. “She could give you a run for your money, babe.”
“Gee. Sorry I missed it,” Noelle said flatly.
Leanne busted out with another laugh until Noelle silenced her with a glance.
A couple of other guys walked over and slapped hands with Dash. One of them sat on the table behind him while the other pulled out another chair and brought it close, as if to be too far away from Dash would have deprived them of oxygen. I recognized both of them from the football game and wondered if Thomas would be far behind.
“This is Josh,” Dash said, thumbing over his shoulder at a cute blond kid with a baby face.
“Hey,” Josh said with a nod and smile.
“And that loser is Gage.”
The taller, trendier kid scoffed. Dash punched him once in the arm—hard, if the contortion of Gage’s face was any indication—and that was that.
The double doors opened and I glanced over automatically. Constance and Diana walked in with Missy, Lorna, and the others. Constance scanned the room and I knew she was looking for me, wondering why I had left so early and without her. I felt a stab of guilt as she finally found me and did a double take. I managed an apologetic smile as she walked by me, looking stunned. Missy and Lorna whispered to each other and, if possible, Missy’s nostrils flared even wider. The envy was clear.
So far this was a good morning.
“Do you play a lot of sports, Reed?” Taylor asked out of nowhere.
Here we go again. I tore my gaze away from Missy’s. Taylor was systematically gutting her bagel, piling all the dough up in a mountain on the side of her tray.
“Just soccer and lacrosse,” I said.
“Just like you, babe,” Dash said, slinging his arm over Noelle’s chair.
Noelle stared at me. “Again I can’t help but say, ‘Gee.’”
Wow.
Guess that respect I gained on the soccer field yesterday really didn’t translate to the real world.
Leanne laughed again and Natasha squirmed in her seat. “Leanne, would you kindly remove your nose from my ass? It’s starting to chafe,” Noelle snapped.
This time, Leanne looked as if she might cry. She got up, pulled her backpack onto her shoulders, and shot me a scathing look before walking off.
“Nice one, Noelle,” Natasha said, rising as well. “She just wants you to like her.”
I was surprised at the frankness of this statement.
“I’m sorry, Natasha,” Noelle said innocently. “But I’m afraid that’s going to be impossible.”
Natasha rolled her eyes and followed Leanne through the double doors. So all was not harmonious behind the walls of Billings. Somehow, knowing this only made it all the more intriguing.