Josh turned slightly so that his knees touched mine. I ignored the thrill that went through me. Every touch was about a zillion times more intense today.
“You don’t think . . . do you think Blake did this?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but it
is
suspicious, isn’t it?” I said.
Josh looked like he was about to throw up. He sat back again and slumped, taking a long, deep breath.
“Are you all right?” I asked, my heart thudding.
“It’s just a lot, you know? I’ve known these guys my whole life. Blake can be a dick, yeah, but I can’t imagine him . . . with my baseball bat. . . . But I guess he could have gotten it, right? He could have gone to our room and gotten Thomas to come with him and taken the bat. . . .”
He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped forward, releasing my hand for the first time so that he could grasp the back of the pew in front of us.
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting my hand on his back. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just thought you’d want to know what was going on. . . .”
“No, it’s okay,” Josh said, taking a few heaving breaths. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
After a couple of minutes he sat up again. His face looked waxy and pale, but he was otherwise okay. He gave me an apologetic glance, then laced his fingers through mine again.
“Let’s just not talk about this anymore, okay?” he suggested, trying to smile. “As far as I’m concerned, this is the police’s problem now. Not ours. From now on, we just . . . move on. Get back to normal. Is that okay with you?”
I smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Okay?” I said. “It sounds perfect.”
“So now they want to bring Blake Pearson in for questioning,” Noelle said, lowering her copy of the
New York Times
. Everyone on campus had one. Or a copy of the
Post
or the
Hartford Courant
. The new developments in Thomas’s case had made the front page all up and down the East Coast, apparently. “That boy always was a little too intense for my taste.”
I looked at Josh across the wide cafeteria table. He had been back at school for two days and was looking more and more like himself each day. This morning he wore a tan sweater with a hole near the collar and a paint stain on the sleeve. He’d already devoured a chocolate doughnut and was on to a cinnamon. Our legs were hooked together at the ankle under the table. He shook his head slightly at Noelle’s comment and continued to eat.
“Please. You had a major crush on him,” Kiran said as she texted on her BlackBerry.
“Kiran!” Noelle blurted.
“You did?” Dash asked, nonplussed. “When was this?”
Kiran went green, but continued to type away with her thumbs.
“I never had a crush on Blake Pearson,” Noelle said huffily. “Maybe I thought he was cute for five seconds in eighth grade, but then he went through that awful awkward phase,” she said with a shudder.
“Right. Pizza-Face Pearson,” Gage said, laughing with his mouth full. “Extra pepperoni!”
“You’re one to laugh, Coolidge, considering your awkward phase never ended,” Natasha said.
Gage’s mouth snapped shut. Thank God. I really didn’t need to look at his half-chewed food any longer.
“It must have been so difficult for him, with Thomas for a younger brother,” Ariana mused. “He never had an awkward phase, did he?”
“No, but he did have a jackass phase,” Kiran said.
“Kiran!” Ariana scolded. “You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead.”
Kiran looked up and pulled a stupid-me face in my direction, then set her BlackBerry aside. “Sorry. I’m texting Tiara in Milan. I have no filter with her.”
“Ah, TyTy.” Noelle sighed as she speared a grape with her fork. “I miss that girl and her total inability to edit herself. When is she coming back to school?”
“Oh, never. She just landed
Vogue.
” Kiran’s jealousy was plain to the world.
I stared at Kiran blankly. I had no idea who Tiara was, nor did I care, but she took my lack of expression to be my usual fashion-world ignorance.
“The cover,” Kiran explained. “You don’t go back to being a mere human after that.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Maybe Tiara knows where Blake is,” Noelle said with a knowing smile. “Those two always seemed to find each other whenever there was no one else to find.”
“She found Thomas a few times too,” Gage put in.
“God, it’s a wonder those two didn’t kill each other sooner,” Noelle joked.
“Noelle! What the hell is wrong with you?” Dash said, dropping his fork with a clatter.
Noelle lifted her hand to her chest. “Sorry. God. Have a coronary. It was just a joke.”
“Can we please talk about something else?” Josh blurted.
Everyone fell silent. Noelle took a deep breath and moved her utensils to the sides of her plate, lining them up carefully before she finally spoke.
“I’d think you’d be happy the focus has shifted to Blake, Josh,” she said. “After all, that’s what got you out of jail, didn’t it?”
Josh said nothing. I could see the blood working its way up his neck and into his face.
“Noelle, drop it,” Dash said.
“All I’m saying is, it’s good to finally have a suspect that makes
perfect sense,” she said with a shrug. “Those two always hated each other. We all saw it.”
Josh looked like he was about to explode. If he did, I knew it would not be pretty and that it might be quite loud. Something for everyone in the cafeteria to hear. My protective side kicked in.
“Why is it that every person the cops suspect makes perfect sense to you until they’re cleared?” I asked Noelle.
I could feel the implied “ooooooh” from everyone at the table. Kiran pushed back as if she was avoiding the line of fire and Dash shot me a pitying look. But I wasn’t about to back down.
“What do you mean, Reed?” Noelle asked icily.
“She’s right,” Josh said. “First Rick DeLea, now Blake. I heard you even had me drawn and quartered for a few days there, Noelle. What the hell is up with that?”
Noelle glared at Josh before her eyes slid slowly to me. As if I had told Josh how very guilty Noelle thought he was. But I hadn’t. If I had to guess, my money was on Gage. But good luck making Noelle believe that.
I had a feeling that Noelle was starting to regret ever inviting me to live in Billings.
Normal. We’d been trying to find it all semester. Now, with everyone safely back inside Easton’s gates, we settled into some semblance of it. Everyone was busy studying. The library, still the Billings Girls’ home away from home, was now jam-packed with students from every class holding cram sessions and project meetings. Even I was able to absorb information again, which was a very good thing, since I had so much to catch up on. I found that Dean Marcus’s grounding turned out to be a blessing. Since I spent every waking hour outside of class in the library, studying was about all I could do.
There were still a few clues here and there that not all was right in the world of Easton. Especially for me. Every now and then I would see someone out of the corner of my eye and think it was Thomas. My heart would catch and I would turn, and the guy in question would actually look nothing like him. It was just my brain playing tricks on my already battered heart, and I’d have to remember all over again that Thomas was dead. Even though I was with
Josh now, it hurt every time. To know that he was gone forever. That I’d never see that smile again. It still hurt.
Meanwhile, Josh refused to be anywhere within a five-foot radius of Noelle. Since I had to sit at the same table with her at all times, it made seeing him difficult, but we found our ways. Timing our bathroom breaks so that we’d be coming out at the same moment, walking from classroom to classroom together, sitting at the far end of our table at mealtimes, ignoring the conversation around us. Still, the chill between them was palpable, and Noelle hadn’t said all that much to me either since our showdown in the cafeteria. I hoped she wasn’t using that time to plot against me. I was not in the mood for more hazing.
Also, there were the headlines. Each day they grew more and more scathing. Easton Academy was dragged through the muck every which way possible. The school was derided for turning out murderers and drug dealers in one article, yet taken to task for installing security cameras in the next—as if the board didn’t have the right or the cause. The student body started to develop a palpable anger. There were details in one article that could only have been related by someone who attended the school. Whether it was an alumnus or one of the kids who had been pulled out after Thomas’s death, no one knew. But no one wanted to believe it was someone who was still on campus. In our delicate state of being, that kind of betrayal would have been too much for anyone to take.
I tried to ignore all of it. Josh was safe, and I had to keep my grades up if I wanted to come back to Easton in the spring. Of
course I still wanted to see Thomas’s murderer brought to justice, but my role in that particular drama was over. As Detective Hauer had suggested in the beginning, I decided to let the police do their job, and I would do mine: pass finals.
That’s exactly what I was trying to do late one Tuesday night in the library. I was so engrossed in my chemistry flash cards that I didn’t even notice when Dean Marcus walked in.
“What’s he doing now? Checking up on us?” Noelle grumbled from across the table and a couple seats down.
“I feel bad for him,” Cheyenne said. “Look. He’s aged at least ten years since the beginning of the term. I bet he wishes Headmaster Cox had never retired.”
“Who’s Headmaster Cox?” I asked.
Everyone looked at me like I’d just asked how to add two and two.
“Headmaster Cox ran this place for thirty years,” Ariana told me. “He retired last semester. Dean Marcus is technically the dean of students. He’s only acting as head of the academy until they can find a new headmaster.”
“How did you not know that? Everyone knows that,” Kiran said.
“She’s new, remember?” Cheyenne defended me.
I glanced up then and found Dean Marcus talking with Mrs. Lattimer way down at the far end of our sequestered area. He looked frail, like he hadn’t eaten in days, and he was obviously graying. Cheyenne was right. This school year had taken a big toll on the man. What an awful year to be acting as interim headmaster.
“Maybe he should quit,” Noelle said. “Spare us all the misery.”
“Noelle!” Cheyenne was shocked. “Dean Marcus
is
Easton. I couldn’t even imagine this place without him.”
“I could,” Noelle said. “Gladly.”
“You don’t mean that,” Cheyenne protested, shaking her blond hair back.
“Yes. I do. The guy’s an asshole, Cheyenne,” Noelle said. “He
grounded
us. Us! This weekend is the last weekend before finals and we can’t even leave this library, let alone campus. I mean, who does he think he is?”
“He’s the dean of students and he’s worked here since he was a professor. He cares about this place and its reputation,” Cheyenne replied flatly. I saw something register in her eyes. An idea. “In fact . . . we may be able to use that to our advantage.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued.
“I think I just came up with a way to get us off campus after all.”
“
You
have a plan,” Noelle said doubtfully.
“Yes.” Cheyenne grinned, sitting up straight. “Yes. In fact, I do.”
She placed her hands on the table and stood, then smoothed the front of her white sweater and patted her hair. My skin prickled with curiosity. She turned and strode right over to Dean Marcus and Mrs. Lattimer, all confidence and smiles.
“What’s she up to?” Kiran asked, pulling her earbuds from her ears.
Noelle sighed and returned to her work. “I could not care less.”
“Did my gown come in?” Natasha asked, clutching her cell phone to her ear as we walked back from the library later that night. It was a beautiful crisp night with thousands of stars blanketing the sky. I kept my head tipped back as we walked; for the first time in weeks, I was able to focus on the beauty of the world. “How does it look? Okay. Yes. We’ll have the last fitting the day before Christmas Eve. No, I’ll do it. I’ll call him, Mom. You have other things to worry about. Okay. Love you too.”
She hung up the phone, smiling.
“Aw! Miss Moral Center loves her mommy! How sweet,” Noelle teased.
Natasha rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“What’s the gown for? You ‘coming out’ to society?” Kiran asked, cackling.
“Kiran,” Ariana scolded, “that is so inappropriate.”
“No. It’s hilarious. Really,” Natasha said flatly, patting Kiran’s shoulder. “And they say models have no brains.”
Kiran scoffed but could not, in fact, come up with a comeback. Which clearly pissed her off.
“No, the gown is for the embassy ball on Christmas Eve,” Natasha said. “I go every year.”
“The embassy ball?” I asked. My vision fogged over for a second as I snapped my head forward. Reverse head-rush.
“My mother is the ambassador to the United States from Zimbabwe,” Natasha said. “She holds this ball in D.C. every year.”
I almost tripped on my own feet. “Your mother’s an ambassador? You never told me that.”
Natasha shrugged. “Never came up.”
I felt stung. I thought Natasha and I had grown close, but this was a huge thing she’d never deigned to share with me. “I can’t believe you never told me.”
“I don’t know what
your
mother does,” Natasha pointed out.
Oh. Right. And you never will.
“What
does
your mother do?” Kiran asked, tilting her head toward me.
“Nothing interesting,” I replied, wishing like hell I’d kept my mouth shut.
“No, come on, Reed. Tell us,” Noelle teased. “I’ll bet she drives a bus. No! She works in a mill.”
I felt like I was going to burst into embarrassed tears at any second. Noelle was just goading me. She knew all about my family—or so she’d implied on several occasions. She’d probably read my file at some point, considering she seemed to have access to anything she wanted. I wondered if she knew only that my mother was
on disability, or if she also somehow knew that all my mother ever did anymore was pop pills and make everyone’s lives miserable—for the few hours a day she was awake.