“Well, she did already use them on Ketlar this morning,” Vienna joked, earning snickers all around. She and London slapped hands, their identical French manicures clicking together, looking quite pleased with themselves. I hoped Josh’s room wasn’t facing theirs.
“Look, the way I see it, all this means is we don’t have to do all the work,” I said. “They already did it for us.”
Honestly, I didn’t like having my say in the matter taken away much more than anyone else did. But I had a feeling that my Billings sisters, with their indefinable standards, might not have accepted Constance, and I did not want to see that girl heartbroken. I couldn’t imagine how crushed I would have been if on the same day I’d been invited into Billings, I had then been summarily tossed out. All I wanted to do was accept the decree and move on.
Cheyenne’s eyes flashed. “Laziness is no excuse for giving up everything that Billings stands for, Reed,” she snapped. “Not that I’d expect you to understand that,” she added under her breath.
My face burned hot. “Excuse me?”
“What? Oh, nothing,” she said with a sweet smile.
As irritated as I was, I didn’t feel like getting into a knock-down, drag-out fight with Cheyenne, so I chose to ignore her dig and focus on the current issue. “I don’t want to give up everything Billings stands for either, but what are we going to do? I say we just give the new girls their necklaces and get on with our year.”
There was a general murmur of assent that boosted my confidence.
“Uh, no. I don’t think so. They don’t just
get
necklaces,” Cheyenne said, cutting us all off. “We have no way of knowing if those girls are even Billings material.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” Rose said with a shrug. “They’re moving in. They’re gonna have to be Billings material.”
My thoughts exactly. Why couldn’t I have said it first?
Cheyenne’s blue eyes narrowed. “Not necessarily.”
Oh, God. I didn’t like that tone. A very familiar skitter of nervousness raced down my spine.
“Oooh, what’re you thinking?” Vienna asked.
Apparently, Vienna
did
like that tone.
“I’m thinking we can still test them. Just because they’re living under our roof, that doesn’t mean they can’t still be vetted,” Cheyenne said. “We’ll come up with a task for them to perform, and those who pass, fine. But those who don’t . . . ”
A few of the girls eyed one another conspiratorially. I, however, was a blank.
“Those who don’t, what?” I asked.
“Well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Cheyenne said, crossing over to pat me on the shoulder like a little girl.
“I don’t get it,” I said, trying to stave off whatever heinousness these girls had in mind. “The headmaster said they’re living here. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Oh, there’s always something we can do, Reed,” Cheyenne said with a beatific smile. “You just need a little creative thinking.”
NEEDED
When I walked into my room after our brief and irritating meeting, Sabine was zipping her empty suitcase closed and stashing it under her bed. Her sheets were simple and white, and her closet was only half-filled with exotic, flimsy-looking clothing in all sorts of bright colors. Flat sandals lined the floor along with one pair of sneakers. There were three candles on the table next to her bed and two photos. A picture of her and two friends in bathing suits, standing in a simple bamboo frame, and a larger print of Sabine in a school uniform, hugging a woman who had to be her mother. This was framed in silver.
“That’s it?” I asked.
She lifted a small stack of hardcover books off her bed and placed them on her desk next to a silver Apple laptop. “That is all.”
“Wow. And I thought I was a minimalist.”
I crossed over to my bed and sat down, facing her. She looked around at her things and shrugged her slim shoulders. “I wore a
uniform at my old school, so I didn’t need much. And I suppose sweaters and winter clothes take up more room, but I don’t have those things yet. Do you know where I could buy a good coat?”
“I’m not the person you want to ask,” I told her with a sardonic smile. “Portia or Cheyenne, maybe. If you follow my advice, you’ll be so horribly last year,” I joked, putting on a snobby voice.
“Cheyenne? The girl with the temper?” Sabine shuddered. “No thank you.”
I smiled. “So, where are you from that you don’t need a winter coat?”
“Martinique,” she said, pacing over to the window to gaze out at the mountains. “Have you ever been?”
“Can’t say that I have,” I replied with a private smile. Actually, I’d never even been on a plane before, but she didn’t need to know that.
“It’s a small island. Very hot. My family lives in a house on the beach, so I grew up in the sun and not wearing much of anything,” she said with a wistful smile.
“Sounds nice. Why come here?” I asked.
“I’ve always wanted to see what it is like to live in the States,” she said simply.
Yeah. Easton Academy wasn’t really going to give her a snapshot of a normal U.S. existence.
“It is strange, though. Being here,” she said with a sigh, staring out the window.
“How so?” I asked.
Aside from the obvious.
“I was so excited to come here. Life at home can be . . . complicated,” she told me with a small, almost apologetic smile. “I couldn’t wait to get away. But now that I’m here . . . ”
“You miss home,” I finished for her.
“Exactement,”
she replied.
I recalled that feeling. Last year I had sat in my room at Bradwell completely confused as to how I could possibly be homesick, what with my brother off at school and my mother catatonic in bed. And yet, there I was, verge-of-tears girl. I had, however, gotten over that fairly quickly, what with all the hazing, confusion, and abject fear that had soon come my way.
“You get used to it,” I told her.
“Really?” she looked at me hopefully, and I felt a pang in my chest. This girl needed a friend. Maybe Cromwell’s mentor idea was a good one.
“I promise,” I replied.
“Good. I’ll just think of this as an adventure,” Sabine said firmly. “It’s like a different world, anyway. All the stone and brick and hills and trees. And the ceremony this morning? Like a scene from a novel.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement.
“Yeah. It is pretty cool,” I agreed, remembering the warm rush I’d gotten the first time I’d seen it. That feeling of being part of something bigger. The optimistic expectation that it had inspired inside me. I could only hope that Sabine would have a better first semester than I’d had.
But then, how could it possibly be any worse?
My computer let out a beep, and I got up to check my e-mail. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” she said lightly.
I blinked when I saw the address. [email protected].
Dash? Dash McCafferty was e-mailing me? I felt an odd flutter of excitement in my chest and told myself to chill. I clicked it open.
Hey Reed,
Just wanted to check in and see how Easton is doing. Yale is just what I expected. A lot of people seem overwhelmed, but I think Easton may have been more difficult. My roommate’s a tool, but after living with Gage, I think I can deal. Write back when you get a chance.
—Dash
“Oooh. Someone’s blushing,” Sabine said, walking over. “Who’s it from?”
I wasn’t blushing. I couldn’t be blushing. Just because Dash and I had shared that one freaky maybe-moment over the summer . . .
“Just a friend,” I told her. “He graduated last year.”
“Oh?
Un petit ami?
” she teased.
What the heck? Did I look flustered or something? Maybe I was a tad excited, but only because I was surprised that Dash would bother keeping in touch with me. That was all.
“Uh, no. He was a friend’s boyfriend,” I told her.
Was? Is? I had no idea. Dash had come to the Vineyard with his
family for a wedding in August, and Natasha and I had hung out with him for a few days. But the whole time we were together, he didn’t mention Noelle once. Taking his lead, we hadn’t brought her up either, even though we’d both been dying to know what he knew. Still, it seemed cruel to mention it. How could he have possibly been dealing with the idea that his girlfriend had any sort of a hand—however inadvertent—in his best friend’s death?
And then, that moment had happened. After the wedding Dash had shown up at the Old Fisherman—the restaurant I’d worked at all summer—slightly tipsy, his blond hair disheveled by the wind, still wearing his tux, but with the tie adorably loosened. I’d been closing up the porch tables on my own, and he had pitched right in, helping me stack the chairs and move everything toward the wall to protect them from the wind, as I did every night. He told me stories about all the uptight snobs at the wedding, and we ended up out there for an hour, laughing and talking as we looked out over the water.
“I wish you’d been there,” he said, leaning his thick forearms on the railing. “It would’ve been a lot more fun.”
My heart skipped a surprised beat at the way he was looking at me. “Yeah. Sounds like good people watching,” I replied, trying to make light.
“I can’t believe I’m going to Yale in a few weeks,” he said.
“Yeah. College. It’s so huge,” I replied.
“No. Not that. I just wish . . . I wish I could go back to Easton. Do senior year all over. I would do so many things differently,” he told me in that earnest way of his.
“Like what?”
“Like . . . ” He looked me in the eye in this searching way, and I froze. Even though I knew what he was thinking, even though I’d just talked to Josh from Germany two hours before, I didn’t move. This was Dash McCafferty. He was almost mind-bogglingly gorgeous. And I swear, when he tipped his head toward mine, there was a moment of insanity in which I was going to kiss him back.
And then I remembered I had a conscience. I backed off. Cleared my throat, acted like nothing had happened, and so did he. By the next day I was absolutely positive I had imagined the whole thing. Or that I hadn’t, but he’d been more drunk than I’d thought and hadn’t known what he was doing. That he’d somehow thought in his bleary condition that I was Noelle. Okay, she was
Vogue
-level gorgeous and I was me, but we both had brown hair, similar heights, and athletic bods. It was possible. Whatever the case had been, I hadn’t seen or heard from him again until this moment, even though his family had spent two more days on the island.
“Oh. Well, tell him your new roommate said hello,” Sabine said before moving back to arrange her things.
I nervously started to type a quick response, my fingers shaking ever so slightly after recalling that summer night so vividly. Taking Dash’s sort of detached lead, I filled him in on the new headmaster, the situation at Billings, and the mentor program. I had just hit
SEND
when Constance burst into our room. If there was one thing she was good for, it was total distraction.
“Omigod! Reed! The view from my and Kiki’s room is
so
gorgeous!” she rambled. “I can’t believe I’m in Billings! I can’t believe it!”
“Why are you so excited?” Sabine asked, looking up from a turquoise T-shirt she was folding. “Is this place special somehow?”
“You have no idea!” Constance trilled. “This is the most exclusive dorm on campus. They don’t let just anyone live here.”
Except this year.
“So when do we get our necklaces?” Constance reached out to touch my diamond
B
. “Did you notice that Cheyenne’s is bigger than everyone else’s?”
I knew it!
“I can’t wait to get mine!”
“Calm down, Constance. Take a breath,” I told her, laughing guiltily. Little did Constance know that she wasn’t actually a Billings Girl yet. At least not as far as certain people were concerned. “I’m sure you’ll get one eventually.”
Especially since I’m planning to help you and Sabine pass whatever stupid test Cheyenne comes up with.
“Oh, God. I can’t wait! I have to call Whit! He’s going to be so happy for me! He told me I could still get in, but I didn’t believe him. He was just being Whit, you know? You know how he is. Anyway—”
Constance whipped out her cell phone to call Whittaker, who was now a Harvard man. She turned away from me and Sabine as she greeted Whit and squealed into her phone. I shot Sabine an apologetic glance, but she just smiled back.
No eye-rolling. No judging. Which were the reactions Constance
often got around Easton. Sabine really was going to get a culture shock at this school.
“Yeah,” Constance was saying. “There’s a new girl living with Reed, so we’re not rooming together, but—No. She’s right here. Okay. Sure.” She held out the phone to Sabine. “Whit wants to welcome you to Easton.”
Sabine looked surprised, but took the phone. “Hello? Yes. Thanks! It’s nice to meet you, as well.”
“Omigod, he’s so sweet, isn’t he?” Constance asked Sabine.
Sabine nodded and smiled as Whit gabbed away. My heart felt warm just watching them. Yep. These two were going to pass Cheyenne’s test if it killed me. They were exactly what Billings House needed.
COZY
The day had turned from warm to blazing hot by the time we all headed out for class. Sabine and I walked around the quad together—me in khaki shorts and a T-shirt, her in a layered yellow dress and pink tank that no one else around here could ever pull off—taking the long route so that I could point out the various buildings. Somewhere along the way she took out a tiny blue leather-bound book and pencil and started to jot notes.
“What are you doing?” I asked, amused.
Sabine blushed and hid the notebook against her chest. “I’m awful with directions. If I don’t write this down, you’ll just have to tell it all to me again tomorrow.”
“Right. So this is Hull Hall, but we all call it Hell Hall,” I said as Sabine made a quick entry in her book. I lifted my hair off my neck and tied it up in a quick ponytail, trying to cool myself off. “It’s where the faculty and deans and the headmaster have their offices.”
“I was there this morning,” Sabine recalled, tipping her pencil toward the door. “The headmaster had us all meet him there before he brought us to Billings.”