SO MUCH FOR THAT.

Sunday morning dawned crisp and cold. So cold that I had to huddle close to Noelle, Con stance, Vienna, and London as we hurried across the leaf-strewn campus toward the dining hall. As the wind whipped my hair back from my face, I burrowed my chin into my scarf and wished I had thought to bring my wool hat. All I wanted to do was get inside again as quickly as possible. All my friends wanted to do was talk about my date. "I can't believe you walked out on Hunter Braden," Vienna said, clutching London's arm in her shearling coat. "No one walks out on Hunter Braden." "Reed Brennan does," Noelle said, sounding proud. "I'm sorry. He's just... not my type," I told them, my words m.u.f.fled by my scarf. I wriggled my chin out and ducked it over the woolly fabric. "He's everyone's type," London replied. "Until you talk to him," I told her. "Just trust me. It was the most boring night of my life."London and Vienna looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Fine. We'll go to the next candidate," London said, whipping the printed F.Y.R. list out of her pocket. The wind almost made off with it, but she managed to keep it clutched in her gloves. "But if Hunter Braden is boring, I don't really know who's going to satisfy you," she added under her breath. "Who's next?" Constance asked, try ing to see over London's shoulder as we walked.

"Dominic Infante. Portia's pick," London replied. "Actually, I think I'm going to ask out Marc Alberro," I told them. "You are?" Constance's face lit up. "Who?" London blurted, looking con fused. "Number fifteen," Vienna informed her, pointing. "Reed, come on. He's, like, a scholar ship student." Noelle snorted a laugh at the faux pas. I stopped in my tracks just outside the door to the dining hall and they all stopped as well. I stared down the blank-faced Twin Cities until they remembered who they were talking to--another scholarship student. "Oh! Right!" Vi enna said finally, blushing. "But this is different. I mean, he's a Dreck." Dreck was the not-sopositive nickname the Billings Girls had for residents of Drake Hall, the uppercla.s.sman dorm where the "unsavory" boys lived.

"Plus he's president of the Purity Club," London said with a shudder, sticking her tongue out like she'd just swallowed a bug. "Easton has a Purity Club?" I asked, shocked. "Oh, it's, like, really small," Vienna clarified. Interesting. I couldn't imagine anyone at this particularly h.o.r.n.y school wanting to remain pure, let alone advertise the fact. Marc Alberro was looking better and better. A smart, funny, cute boy with no delusions of grandeur who was not out for s.e.x? Count me in. "I'm asking him out," I said, whipping open the door and striding into the warm, hustle-bustle of the dining hall. "Yay!" Constance cheered. The Twin Cities protested under their breath, but I pretended not to hear. I'd done it their way. Now it was time to try it my way. I unb.u.t.toned my coat as I walked over to the Billings tables, feeling confident in my decision. Feeling, in fact, better than I had in days. But the feeling was short-lived. Halfway across the cafeteria I noticed people whispering. Eyeing me warily. Glancing away quickly when I looked in their direction. An eerie sense of deja vu settled in around my shoulders. The vibe in the room was way too familiar. It felt exactly like it had after Thomas's body had been found.

I gulped for air. Cheyenne. Had Easton somehow found out about the murder investiga tion? "What's up with the morgue vibe?" Noelle asked, flinging her coat over the back of her chair. The Billings Girls who were already seated with their meals--Sabine, Tiff, Rose, Kiki, Astrid, and others--all exchanged nervous looks. Like there was something they didn't want to tell us. Then Amberly Carmichael scurried over with her two sentries in tow. She grabbed my forearm with one hand and Noelle's with the other. "You guys, I just want you to know, I don't believe a word of it," she said, her eyes wide and earnest.

"A word of what?" I asked, removing her hand from my arm. At that moment Missy arrived, dropped her tray on the next table, and turned around, her arms crossed under her sizable chest. "You guys should know that everyone's talking about how you conspired to murder Cheyenne," she said bluntly, looking at me and Noelle. I grabbed onto the back of the nearest chair to steady myself. "What?" Noelle blurted, loud enough that most of the conversation in the airy room screeched to a halt. "Like I said. Not a word," Amberly repeated. Like it was so important to us that she trusted us. Please. My life was flashing before my eyes over here.

"No one believes a word of it, right, girls? It's crazy talk," Tiffany said, looking around the ta ble. Everyone murmured their agreement. "I don't understand. How did this whole thing get started?" Noelle asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Everyone at the Billings tables looked around at everyone else. Again, no one wanted to answer. Finally Missy stepped closer to us and lowered her voice. There's a rumor going around that the police questioned someone from school last night," she said. "That they're go ing to reinvestigate Cheyenne's death." What? How could anyone know that? "Now every one's saying that you got Reed to off Cheyenne so that there would be a vacancy in Billings,"

Missy added. Noelle scoffed. "Total fiction. Honestly. Who comes up with this c.r.a.p?" "Exact ly," Portia added as all our friends nodded and murmured their agreement.

"Everyone's just jealous of you guys. That's why they want to tear you down," Vienna said sagely. "It's always lonely at the top," Shelby agreed. "Too true," Noelle said. She looked around the room, taking in the silence and the stares. "Well, this is unacceptable." She stepped out into the center of the aisle and shook her head incredulously. "So, you all think Reed and I pulled off a murderous coup at Billings, huh? Do you even hear how ridiculous that sounds?" she announced in a loud voice. "Who would kill someone for a spot in a dorm?

Even if it is Billings? Are you guys that hard up for scandal that you're going to believe some thing like that? I thought that only smart people were admitted to Easton."

There was laughter all around. Her announcement had the desired effect. People went back to their food, and I even caught a few of them rolling their eyes like it really was ridiculous. Rumor squelched, just like that. d.a.m.n, this girl had power. I wondered if everyone would have believed me if I had said the same thing, but now I'd never get the chance to find out. "See? I told you," Amberly said to her cohorts before ushering them away. "You do have to admit, the timing was a tad suspect," Missy said casually. "Cheyenne dies and you show up the following week. And after everything that happened last year, people around here think you guys are capable of pretty much anything. You can't really blame them for being suspi cious." "You're going to want to stop talking now," Noelle snapped. Missy did, and took her seat at the next table. She tried and failed to hide a smile behind a cough. The girl was loving every minute of this.

"So who was this mysterious person? Who did the police bring in for questioning?" Sabine wondered aloud, her expression concerned as I slowly unb.u.t.toned my coat. "Please. It prob ably didn't even happen," I said, forcing a laugh. "Someone probably made the whole thing up from start to finish." I glanced up at Noelle as I said this, figuring she'd chuckle and agree with me, but instead her eyes were flat as she stared back at me. My heart all but stopped. She knew. She knew it had been me. She knew I was lying. How did she do that? "Yeah. Prob ably," Noelle said calmly. I glanced around at the rest of my friends, feeling suddenly nervous and snagged, but I could tell that Noelle was the one person at the Billings tables who saw through me. The only one who understood that I knew more than I was letting on. And sooner or later, she was going to want to know the truth.

CONTROL.

How much could one person handle before totally losing it? This was a question, among many others, that started to plague me after the scene in the dining hall. Not only had I just broken up with my boyfriend, but now he was quite possibly smooching some girl who was a liar with a criminal record and who just generally gave me the creeps. I was hiding the fact that the cause of our breakup was me hooking up with my best friend's boyfriend--though I still didn't know if he was her boyfriend at the time. Meanwhile, someone was planting a dead girl's stuff in my room for sport, and said dead girl might or might not have been murdered. Oh, yeah, and soon the ultra-exclusive dorm of which I was president might be closed down-a travesty for which I would be blamed for all eternity. Yeah. That wasn't too much to deal with. And I also had cla.s.ses and calls home to my par ents and a rivalry between Sabine and Noelle and my friends forcing me to date random boys. Public school was starting to look not so bad.

Monday morning I decided that the best thing to do would be to focus on the stuff that I could actually control. Stuff like the fundraiser. So after lunch I went directly to the Crom's of fice. His a.s.sistant, Ms. Lewis, was on the phone when I walked in, looking harried. I waited quietly in front of her desk, thinking of our bizarrely intimate encounters last year, back when she used to be Ms. Lewis-Hanneman. Before her husband had found out she was having an affair with Thomas Pearson's brother Blake. I had been the one person she had confessed ev erything to. The only person she had managed to trust. It was so strange to think of it now. Finally she hung up the phone and sighed. She pushed her hornrimmed gla.s.ses up on her nose and smoothed her blond hair back toward her bun, then pulled her chair closer to her desk. "What can I do for you, Miss Brennan?" "I was hoping to see the headmaster," I said. She glanced at her phone. One red light was blinking. "He's on his line right now. I can leave him a message." "I have a few minutes. I can wait," I told her. "Super," she replied sarcastical ly. The phone rang again and she quickly answered it. As soon as she hung up, she typed a few words into her computer and yanked a file out of a drawer. She seemed irritated and busy, but while I was there, I did have some business with her as well. "Ms. Lewis?" I said ten tatively. "Yes?"

She didn't look up as she flipped through some papers in the file. "I was wondering if you could do me a small favor," I said. "In all my spare time?" she said. I laughed quickly for her benefit. "If you get a minute, I mean. I need a list of all the Easton alumni under the age of six ty-five along with their addresses and e-mails." Ms. Lewis stopped what she was doing and looked up at me like I'd just asked her to put an end to world hunger. "Come on," I wheedled.

"For old times' sake?" Her glossy lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Fine." She grabbed a pen and started to make a note on a Post-it, but there was no ink left. "Nothing is easy today," she said, flinging the pen down and yanking open another drawer. A lockbox slammed forward as she did so. It was labeled--in old, chipped paint--dorm keys. Suddenly a lump rose from my chest area into my throat. "You have keys to all the dorms?" I asked, my blood running cold. Ms. Lewis quickly slammed the drawer. "Yes. I have to have them so I can make copies when you oh-so-responsible students lose them. Like your friend Kiki did last week."

She gestured at a gray machine atop a filing cabinet behind her. A maker of keys. "And that's where you keep them? In an unlocked drawer in your desk?" She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "The lockbox is locked," she said impatiently. "Hence the term lockbox. "

As she quickly made a note to put together the list I'd asked for, my mind started to roam free. Keys to all the dorms. Right here where anyone could get to them. It wouldn't be that hard, if someone was determined. Dash and I had, after all, broken into this very office last year to use Ms. Lewis's computer. Whoever was messing with me could have easily broken in and stolen the Billings key. Could even have made a copy if they figured out how to work that ma chine. Anyone could have the key to Billings. Anyone.

"He's off the phone," Ms. Lewis announced, getting up. I cleared my throat and attempted to, at the same time, clear my brain. I had to focus now. Cromwell. The pa.s.ses. I could deal with this new discovery later. Ms. Lewis straightened her skirt and strode over to the double door that connected her office to the headmaster's. "Reed Brennan to see you, Headmaster,"

she said as she opened the door. "What can I do for you, Miss Brennan?" Cromwell asked, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper laid out on his sizable desk. Ms. Lewis left the two of us alone and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. His office was blazing hot, as always, thanks to a roaring fire in the ancient fireplace on the far side of the room. The win dows were all shut tight, and there was little if any air to be had. How could the man possibly work like this? Had he only recently escaped from h.e.l.l?

"I'm here to request off-campus pa.s.ses for this weekend for myself and four fellow stu dents," I told him, hoping that maintaining a formal tone would somehow impress him. I tugged at the collar of my sweater in an attempt to get some air to my skin. It didn't work. "We want to go to New York to finalize plans for our fund-raiser."

"Miss Lange has already applied for, and secured, four pa.s.ses for this trip," he said, lan guidly turning the page. I hesitated. Noelle had already been here? When? And why would she apply for only four when we had already discussed the fact that we needed five? She was trying to keep Sabine out. Of course she was. How could she have gone behind my back and-"Was there anything else?" Cromwell asked, still reading. Okay, focus. Sabine and Noelle were not the issue right now. "Yes, sir, I'd like one more pa.s.s," I said firmly. Headmaster Cromwell took a deep breath. He looked at his glowing computer screen and hit a few but tons. "Miss Lange has secured pa.s.ses for you, Miss Simmons, Miss Clarke, and herself. Why, might I ask, are the four of you not enough? Are you in need of someone to carry your bags? " He looked at me for the first time, a wry smile on his tight lips.

"No, sir," I said patiently. "But we'd like to bring Sabine DuLac with us." "And why should I let Miss DuLac accompany you?" he asked. "Because she--" Okay. "She wants to see New York" wasn't going to fly here. There had to be a plausible reason for Sabine to be in on this trip. Cromwell raised his eyebrows at my hesitation and I noticed the huge globe on its pedestal behind his desk. Epiphany. "Because Sabine will bring in a lot of international donations," I improvised. "Her family has friends and acquaintances all over the globe. She would be a true a.s.set to the planning committee." I clasped my sweaty hands together behind my back and prayed my lie would do the trick. Money talked. And international money was still money.

"Fine," Cromwell said finally. "Five pa.s.ses it is. You can come and pick them up on Friday af ternoon." Yes! "Thank you, sir. You won't regret this," I said. "I do hope this project of yours is a success," he said with so little sincerity he was practically transparent. "And we very much appreciate your support," I replied sarcastically. Then I turned and walked out of his oven like office before my tone had a chance to sink in, and he had a chance to change his mind.

MOOD SWING.

It was unbelievable, the lengths Noelle would go to in order to get what she wanted. I knew she didn't like Sabine, but did she hate her so much she couldn't deal with her for one lousy weekend? That seemed so petty. And so beneath Noelle. Couldn't she let me have just one little thing? Couldn't she keep herself from trying to control every aspect of life in Billings?

Well, Noelle clearly didn't realize who she was dealing with. I loved the girl, but she had to get used to the fact that she wasn't the only person living in Billings. Things couldn't always be the way she wanted them to be. She had been gone all spring and part of the fall. Did she re ally think that in all that time, nothing would have changed? There was already someone at Easton working against me with all this Cheyenne c.r.a.p--which made my knees jellify every time I thought about it. I didn't need my best friend working against me too. I shoved through the front door of h.e.l.l Hall and jogged down the steps, feeling triumphant and clear for the first time as the cold air hit my face. I was going to have a talk with Noelle. She couldn't go behind my back and change things up on me. I was president of Billings. She was just going to have to get used to it. I was so focused as I strode across the rapidly darkening campus, I barely noticed Marc sitting on one of the benches in the quad until I was right on top of him. "Reed, hi," he said, looking up from his French book. "Marc! Hey," I said, pausing. The wind tossed my hair in front of my face and I tossed it back with a smile. I hadn't seen Marc since I had made the decision to b.u.mp him up from number fifteen to number three on the F.Y.R. list. Now I felt as if he'd been placed in my path at the perfect moment. Not only was I high on adrenaline, but I was in definite need of a distraction.

"I'm just studying for a French test," he said. Pointing out the obvious again. "That's good,"

I replied. "What're you up to?" he asked, standing. He was a couple of inches shorter than me, but still beyond cute with his dark hair and light eyes. He wore a gray wool coat with tog gle b.u.t.tons over a burgundy sweater and jeans. Unlike the Ketlar boys, he was not too cool to realize it was freezing out and that he could do something about it. "Have you thought more about the interview? Because I'd really love to get your thoughts on--" "Actually, yeah. Let's do that. Let's set up a time to do the interview," I replied, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder and tucking my hands underneath my arms to ward off the cold. "How's Wednesday afternoon? Soccer's over, so I'm free." Marc whipped out a BlackBerry to check his schedule, all business like. His brows knit as he checked it over. "Wednesday should work. Do you want to--" "I'll meet you at Coffee Carma at four," I told him, feeling very in charge. "Four it is," he replied. "Good. It's a date," I said. Marc blushed and grinned. It was a nice grin. Real. Not at all smug. "It's a date," he repeated. "See you then!" I turned and walked determinedly toward Billings. I'd dealt with Cromwell and the New York trip, I'd made my next F.Y.R. move. So far, so good. I was taking charge of my life. But as the dorm loomed before me, I started to feel a bit short of breath. Almost dizzy. Almost like I didn't want to go inside. What if there was something new and unexplained in my room? A few days had gone by since the discovery of Cheyenne's clothing, but rather than making me feel safer, the pa.s.sing time was making me more paranoid. Who was planting that stuff ? What would they do next?

And when? When would I open another door or drawer and find some other Cheyenne-related artifact that would knock the wind out of me all over again? All my Noelle-in spired adrenaline started to wane and my steps slowed. I didn't want to go in there. Didn't want to know what was waiting for me. Billings, the only place that had felt like home in the past year and a half, had changed. All because one of my schoolmates had a very sick, cruel sense of humor. Why would someone want to do this to me? Did I really have such an enemy on campus? What had I done to deserve this?

I paused outside the door and leaned back against it. What if it was someone inside Billings? What if it was more than one person? What if everyone knew what was going on and they were all laughing at me behind my back. What if-No. Stop. This was my dorm. I was not going to be intimidated. I was not going to be afraid to walk through the door. These were my friends. They wouldn't do this to me. And whatever my mystery stalker wanted to throw at me next, I would just deal with it. Like I'd dealt with Cromwell. I'd deal with it like I knew I could. And whoever was doing this to me would be sorry. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and strode inside.

Everyone was gathered in the parlor. For a fleeting moment I considered just going in there and asking if any of them was behind the black marbles and the clothing, and maybe even how that picture of Cheyenne and me had made it out of my desk drawer and onto my bulletin board a few weeks back--which I was starting to think was part of all this. Or if any of them was helping someone on the outside. Just call them out. But then I realized that reveal ing what was going on to the general Billings population would be a mistake. It would make me look weak. It would bring up questions about why I was the only one being targeted. I would have to tell them about the e-mail. About my guilt. And I was not about to do that. No, I was just going to have to figure this out on my own. Once the fund raiser was over. Once everything started to normalize again. Then I would deal with my tormentor. Decision made, I walked over to the parlor door and instantly my blood started to boil. Noelle was stand ing in front of the fireplace, addressing a rapt audience of Billings Girls. Clearly, this was a for mal meeting and clearly, Noelle was in charge. "So if your parents want to fly in anyone from the West Coast, let me know by Friday. Daddy's going to let us use his jet for one cross-conti nental run, so we'll need to make sure everyone knows where to be and when," Noelle was saying. A few people made a note of this and Noelle glanced at the next item on her agenda. She had an agenda. "Okay, now--" "What's going on?" I said loudly, announcing my presence to the room. Everyone turned around. My irritation must have been evident, because many of them looked quickly, guiltily away.

"Reed! Good. There you are. We were just going over some of the details for the fund-rais er," Noelle said, unfazed. "I went to Cromwell about the off-campus pa.s.ses and he said four is the limit, so we're back to the original plan." She turned to Sabine and shrugged. "Sorry, Frenchie. You're out." Sabine's face fell, which made me want to scream. Or hit something. Possibly Noelle. "Actually, I just talked to Cromwell and secured the extra pa.s.s," I said point edly, my skin burning with barely suppressed ire. "So Sabine, you're still in." Everyone looked from me to Noelle, as if we were volleying in a tennis match. Noelle's lips screwed up in some thing that vaguely resembled a smile. "Well. I guess your powers of persuasion are improv ing." All the faces swiveled to me. "Yeah. I guess they are," I replied. Silence. I had silenced Noelle. Cool. I walked into the room, dropping my bag and coat on the window seat, and joined Noelle up front. "So, has anyone had any new ideas about the theme?" I asked. Everyone looked at everyone else. There was so much tension in the room, I was sur prised any of us could breathe. "Reed, can I talk to you for a second?" Noelle said through her teeth, but maintaining a sunny tone. "Alone?" "Sure," I replied, just as sunnily. "Why don't you guys brainstorm while we're gone? Constance, would you take notes?" As Noelle followed me out of the room, I knew there would be no talk of the fund-raiser. All they were going to talk about was me and Noelle, and take bets on who might throw the first b.i.t.c.h slap.

THE TRUTH.

I led Noelle right into my room and whirled on her the moment she closed the door behind us. I was so full of pent-up emotion that I was able to shove my fear of being there all the way to the back of my mind. "What the h.e.l.l was that? You're calling meetings behind my back now?" I demanded. G.o.d, it felt good to yell. It felt like all the confusion and stress were pour ing right out of me. "This is not about the fund-raiser. Screw the fund-raiser," Noelle replied, stepping toward me. "This is about Cheyenne." Instantly, my ballooned-up ego deflated to nothing. Determination, gone. Anger, gone. I glanced at my closed closet door. "What about Cheyenne?" I asked quietly. "I'm only going to ask you this once, Reed," Noelle said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you have anything to do with Cheyenne's death?" My heart dropped through my body so quickly I felt faint. "What?" I breathed.

"I need to know the truth. I'm not going to go through what I went through last year," Noelle said coolly. "Not again." I turned away from her accusing eyes, my mind reeling. I couldn't fo cus on anything, and the details of my room seemed to circle in front of me. The window, the desk, the photo of me and Scott, my bedspread, my lamp, the window, the desk--everything swirled. "You can't really think... you can't really think that I could do something like that."

"That's not an answer, Reed. I know you were the one the police brought in for questioning. Don't even try to deny it," she said. "So what the h.e.l.l was that all about?" "It was nothing," I lied. My back was to her and I started to empty my bag just to give myself something to do. Give me an excuse not to look her in the eye. "It was just... they never interviewed me after Cheyenne was found. I left campus with Josh and they questioned everyone else in the dorm, but they never questioned me. They just wanted to make sure they had everyone's accounts of what happened. You know, for the file." "And that was it," Noelle said, sounding uncon vinced. "They didn't say anything about Cheyenne being murdered. Didn't ask if you had any thing to do with it."

Her doubtful tone caused something to snap inside of me, and I turned around. "How could you think--" "Allow me to quote from an e-mail you sent to a certain someone we both know," she replied, as still as stone. "'Cheyenne has lost it. We need to find a way to get rid of her. I need your help.' Now what was that all about? "

Holy. Holy. c.r.a.p. Had Noelle just quoted to me from one of my e-mails to Dash? That was it. I could no longer stand. I fell back onto the edge of my bed and put my head between my knees, fighting for breath. The past few months flashed before my eyes. E-mails with Dash. Phone calls. His desperation that night at the Driscoll dinner. The longing in his brown eyes as he pulled me to him at the Legacy. Was it all lies? One big game? Had he told Noelle ev erything? Had he been betraying me at every turn? "How did you... ?" I lifted my head. Noelle's expression was a mask of disgust. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting an extreme head rush pa.s.s. "You know about... you know I e-mailed Dash?" Suddenly I no longer cared about Noelle's power-tripping. All I cared about was making it up to her. Explaining it to her. Keeping her from hating me.

Noelle scoffed, looking up at the ceiling like she just couldn't figure out what to do with me.

"Reed, try to remember who you're talking to. I read every last one of your pathetic e-mails and every one of his," Noelle replied. "Dash and I have no secrets. Even when we're broken up, I know his every move. This isn't just some high school crush. Dash and I are meant to be together. One little breakup is not going to derail that. And you"--she paused to laugh derisive ly--"you, Gla.s.s-Licker, are certainly not going to derail that." "So... what? He showed them to you?" I said, finding some indignation toward Dash in the midst of all my mind-bending panic. Did she know about the Legacy? Did she know?

"Please. No. I've known his pa.s.sword since freshman year. He never changes it," she replied. "So while we were apart, I kept an eye on him. Had to make sure my man was stay ing out of trouble." Wow. I knew the girl liked to have her control, but wasn't spying on her exboyfriend's e-mails going a little far over the line into complete paranoia? Although, in this case she'd had every reason to be paranoid. "So, yes. I know all about your little flirtation,"

she told me with a superior glint in her eye. "You should know by now, Reed, that you can't keep secrets from me." "Noelle, it didn't mean anything," I told her quickly, standing. "It was just stupid and--" Noelle laughed merrily. "Please. I'm not worried about you and Dash flirting on your computers like some pathetic fourth-graders. Could you be any lamer?" My face burned as if I'd just been slapped. "He just missed me and you were a distraction. I know nei ther of you would ever have the b.a.l.l.s to actually do anything," she added. "Neither one of you is that stupid."

Implication? If we had "done something," she would have made us pay. So she didn't know every move he made. She didn't know what had happened at the Legacy. As relief flood ed through me, so did an intense desire to tell her everything we had done--to wipe that supe rior certainty off her condescending face and show her that she did not know everything. But I bit my tongue. Even in all the trauma of the moment, my self-preservation instinct kicked in. Leave well enough alone. "Let's get back to the point," Noelle directed, walking over to my desk. She picked up my plastic box of paper clips and toyed with it, dumping the contents back and forth slowly, like a rattle. "You wanted to get rid of Cheyenne, so tell me... what did you do?" "I wanted to get her expelled, not killed," I replied, turning my palms out at my sides.

"She was out of control... treating the new girls like dirt... trying to get them thrown out of school. I was actually e-mailing Dash to see if he could get in touch with you for help. Since you--"

I paused, not wanting to dredge up any more unpleasant memories. Noelle's brown eyes lit with understanding. "Since I got Leanne expelled last year," Noelle finished, placing the box down again. "That was really more Ariana's thing." "I know, but Noelle..." I gazed at her, on the verge of desperate tears. "Honestly, did you really think I could ever kill someone? I mean, you know me." She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "I knew Ariana too,"

she said. "Or so I thought. I'm not making that blind-trust mistake again." Okay. She had a point. But it wasn't fair that Ariana's insanity should prejudice Noelle against me. I hadn't done anything wrong. Well, not anything that could get me arrested, anyway.

"Cheyenne and I were not getting along toward the end. Everyone knows this," I told her.

"But I had nothing to do with her death. I mean, just look at it logically. The girl was out. She was expelled. I was never going to have to see her again. Why would I kill her? " Noelle turned to face me fully and studied my face for a long moment. I couldn't believe she was still doubting me. Me. Her best friend. "Noelle, please. You have to believe me," I said, my voice cracking. "I can't lose you, too." Finally, Noelle rolled her eyes and gave me a genuine smile.

"Aw, Gla.s.s-Licker, you're such a sap," she said, tilting her head to the side. "Could you please stop calling me Gla.s.s-Licker?" I asked, grasping at levity. "No," she replied. "You flirted with my boyfriend. I get to call you whatever I want for as long as I want."

Right. I guess I couldn't argue with that. "But we're okay?" I asked uncertainly. "We're okay," she replied. "Let's go back downstairs before those girls decide on a slumber party theme without our direction." "Good idea." She walked ahead of me out of my room and I paused for a moment to collect myself. My heart was racing, my mind felt numb, and there was a cool sheen of sweat all over my skin. The only question in my mind right then was how long we would be okay. How long could a person like Noelle Lange be kept in the dark about what really happened at the Legacy? And how long would I survive if she ever found out?

THANK NOELLE.

I had to focus on the task at hand. Focus. Not on Josh, not on Noelle, not on the Cheyenne investigation. On the fund-raiser. Focus on the fund-raiser. It was about all I could do to keep myself sane. So after English lit cla.s.s on Tuesday, Sabine and I speed-walked to lunch to go over our short list of theme ideas, which we had narrowed down at the meeting the night before. By the end of the day I was going to make a decision. By the end of the day some thing was going to be set in stone.

We grabbed sandwiches and bottled water and got to our table before any of the other Billings Girls arrived. In fact, the place was as still as the library. Only a few of the faculty and some of the foreign exchange students--who always seemed to arrive early to everything-were present, and their conversations were whispered, hushed. "I think 'indulgence' is a per fect theme," Sabine whispered as we sat down. "All those ideas London had about serving on ly sweets and champagne and having private ma.s.sage rooms and cashmere blankets on ev ery seat as favors--it sounded divine." "I like it too, but it might be too expensive to pull off. It'll all depend on whether or not the Twin Cities can really get all that stuff for free or at cost," I replied, opening my notebook to the theme list. "What about the green theme? The environ ment is so trendy right now and we--" "Ladies! I've got it!"

I stopped talking as the door to the dining hall flew open and Noelle made her announce ment. She strode over to our table, her cheeks flushed from the cold, tugging her camel-col ored suede gloves from her fingers. Tiffany, London, Vienna, Portia, and Shelby were at her heels, looking like very excited ladies-in-waiting. "You've got what?" I asked, looking up at Noelle as she paused at the end of the table. "The most perfect fund-raiser idea ever!" She shrugged her thick hair off her shoulders and spread her fingers wide. "We are going to make so much money for this school, the Crom will not only leave Billings alone, he'll bow down to us for the rest of our scholastic lives." I glanced warily at Sabine, whose expression had turned hard and cold. No surprise there. I was sure she saw this as yet another attempt by Noelle to seize control of Billings. But even if I did feel a twinge of foreboding myself, I had to ignore it. I owed Noelle that much, after last night's conversation. Besides, I was kind of psyched to hear about this plan of hers. In my experience Noelle's plans were generally fab ulous. "Don't keep us in suspense," I prompted.

"Right. So we have the big, extravagant dinner for the per-plate donation we talked about, but we also offer a special platinum ticket," Noelle said, pulling a chair over to sit at the head of the table. "And what do they get with a platinum ticket?" I asked. "Patience, Reed. I was get ting to that," Noelle said with a condescending smile. "Anyone buying a platinum ticket will be invited to a salon earlier in the day to be styled by the one and only Frederica Falk, stylist to the stars." London and Vienna clasped hands and squealed at the sound of the name. Like Noelle had just announced that Brad Pitt was going to be teaching their afternoon art history cla.s.s. "And photographed by Ta.s.sos, world-renowned fashion photographer," Tiffany added, grinning. "Really? That's amazing," I said. I had never heard of Frederica Falk, but all the oth er girls seemed beside themselves at the mention of her name. And I knew from the reverent way the Billings Girls talked about Tiffany's father, Ta.s.sos, that landing a shoot with him was one of the most sought-after prizes of the rich and famous. We could make a killing with this.

"And Dad has offered to donate a whole slew of his old photos and cameras and equip ment so that we can auction them off at the dinner," Tiffany added, dropping into the chair next to mine. She whipped her heather gray scarf off and opened her coat. "He can't wait. Said the studios are long overdue for a purging." "Are you sure he's okay with this?" I asked, turning to her. "I know he's usually pretty busy." "Yeah, but he knows how much Billings means to me, so he's going to clear his weekend," Tiffany said with a shrug of her slim shoul ders. "He even said he'll donate all the film and developing, so his involvement won't cost us a thing." "Wow. This is amazing," I said, dollar signs floating through my head. "Frederica's do nating her time too," Noelle added as the other girls took off their coats and slung them over various chairs with their bags. "Kiran had major dirt on the woman, so it wasn't exactly difficult to convince her to go along." "Wait a minute. Kiran's involved? You talked to her?" I asked, nearly breathless at the thought. Kiran Hayes had been one of my best friends last year be fore the whole Thomas scandal went down, and I hadn't heard from her since. Suddenly I was practically salivating for news. "How is she?"

"She's fine. She's Kiran," Noelle said with a blase wave of her hand. "Living with some male model on the Left Bank... planning some psychotic birthday bash for herself in Amster dam or something. The usual." My friends chuckled knowingly, but I couldn't believe that was all I was getting. The girl had dropped off the face of the earth, except for the occasional ap pearance in a perfume ad or magazine spread. Had she finished school? Did she care? Was she still drinking like a fiend, or had she gotten her c.r.a.p together? Info, please! "Anyway, Fred erica is going to bring along five a.s.sistants to make sure everything runs smoothly, and since she owns her own makeup line, supplies won't be a problem," Noelle said, shrugging out of her cashmere coat. "This is going to be the event of the season." "Try the year," Portia correct ed. "I don't know what to say, you guys," I told them, feeling awed by their abilities, their con nections. "This is going to be incredible." "Well, thank Noelle," Shelby said, tucking her iPhone away and shaking her blond hair back. "It was all her idea." I glanced at Sabine again. She could have incinerated the entire dining hall with the fire in her eyes.

"Come on. I'm starved," Portia said, grabbing a potato chip off my plate. "Let's motor." As Noelle, Tiffany, Portia, Shelby, and the Twin Cities scurried off to secure their lunches, I found myself alone with Sabine--and I didn't relish it. I had a feeling I was in for another overly con cerned lecture. " Please don't tell me you think Noelle is trying to oust me again," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. "Anyone could have come up with that idea." "Yes, but 'anyone' didn't,"

Sabine said, throwing in some air quotes. I had never seen her use air quotes before. She was really becoming Americanized. "Noelle did. And she should have at least run it past you before telling everyone how brilliant she is." "She had to tell Tiffany, at least, so that Tiff could ask her father right away," I replied. "And besides, who cares who knew first? We were all go ing to hear it eventually." "It's a matter of respect," Sabine said firmly. "She has no respect for you."

My mouth went dry and I took a long drink from my water bottle. Unfortunately, Sabine's blunt comment struck a nerve. Noelle had always been my friend, but she had rarely, if ever, shown any respect for me--well, except for that night when she'd saved my life.

"Aw. Madame President is looking a tad peaked," Ivy Slade said, stopping next to our ta ble with her tray. "Having trouble finding people who want to help you save the Den of Evil?" I wanted to reply, but not a single comeback came to mind. Ivy grinned at my hesitation, then laughed in my face and sauntered off toward Josh's table. I watched her go with narrowed eyes, wishing I had some kind of telekinetic power that could send her sprawling on her a.s.s from across the room. Clearly, Hauer hadn't brought her in for questioning yet, or she couldn't possibly be so smug.

Or maybe she could. Who knew? The girl was a complete enigma. Noelle had been no help, and I a.s.sumed that the rest of the Billings Girls would be mum about Ivy as well. If one member of my house thought something was big enough to keep a secret, that usually meant they all agreed. But someone else at this school had to know something more about her. Someone who would be willing to talk.

TOTALLY WRONG.

"I've been doing a lot of research on the subject, and the residents of Billings House have always sort of pushed the envelope around here with the administration turning a blind eye. Why do you think they're coming down so hard on you now?" I stared at Marc's digital recorder, which he held in front of my face. Suddenly I realized I should have given some thought to what he might ask me and what I might say in return. But how was I supposed to concentrate on such things with so much going on around me? "Reed?" Marc prompted. "Um... because the new headmaster is a repressed jacka.s.s who's probably never experienced a single mo ment of unadulterated fun in his entire sad life?" I blurted. Marc looked at me, startled, then cracked up laughing. He doubled over and I felt a laugh bubble up in my throat as well. Before long we were both laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the sunlit quad.

"Can I quote you on that?" he asked, his eyes glistening with merry tears. "Probably not a good idea," I replied, grabbing his recorder and turning it off. It took a minute for us to regain our breath. It felt so good to laugh, I wanted to keep doing it all afternoon, but then I saw something that brought me up short, and my mirth died. Just like that. It was Detective Hauer, and he was striding purposefully across the quad a number of yards off. I glanced ahead, checking where he was going, and my eyes fell on Josh. Josh, who was walking toward Ket lar, completely oblivious to the heat-seeking missile coming his way. All the blood rushed out of my head. "Reed? Are you all right?" Marc asked, concerned. I didn't answer. Couldn't. What did Hauer want with Josh? The detective caught Josh's attention, and Josh looked around for a moment, as if disbelieving that the man was talking to him. He looked so skittish, so frightened in that moment, I just wanted to go over there and get between them. Protect Josh from whatever was about to happen.

Marc turned around and saw what had caught me so off guard. We both watched as Hauer led Josh back to h.e.l.l Hall. Watched until they disappeared inside. "What's going on?

Why would the police want to talk to Josh?" I said, breathless. "It makes sense. He and Cheyenne were involved in that whole drug-s.e.x scandal thing right before she died," Marc said pragmatically. "Maybe they think he was holding it against her or something." "You know about that?" I demanded. Marc hesitated for a moment, as if snagged. Had he been research ing me and my past as well as Billings? "Doesn't everyone know about that?" he said finally. I supposed it was possible. News did travel fast at Easton. Especially scandalous news. I decid ed to let it go. Especially considering there were more urgent matters at hand. "So you think he's a suspect?" I asked, my heart racing. " I don't," Marc clarified. "But they might."

"This is insane. I can't believe they're doing this to him again," I said, my words coming out in a rush. "The girl committed suicide. Josh didn't do anything. He wouldn't. He--"

"Reed, it's okay. You don't know what they're doing in there. I'm sorry I said anything,"

Marc told me, turning around and straddling the bench so he could face me fully. "Don't jump to conclusions, okay? I'm sure it's fine." I had told Hauer to question Ivy. Ivy, not Josh. Had he just completely ignored everything I said? "Reed, if you want to do this interview some other time, I completely understand," Marc was saying. Off to my left, I heard a familiar laugh. Gage's laugh. I glanced over at him, hanging with some of his Ketlar boys. Gage, of course. Gage had dated Ivy last year, had been fooling around with her as recently as two weeks ago. If there was anyone on this campus who knew about Ivy, it was him. "I'm really sorry, Marc. I have to go," I said, standing and gathering up my book bag and coffee cup. "Rain check?"

"Sure," he said, standing as well. "Do you want me to walk you back to your--" But I didn't let him finish. I was already halfway to Gage. When I reached him, I grabbed the arm of his trendy wool sweater and dragged him away from his friends. "Backwater Brennan! What's with the stealth attack?" he asked, yanking his arm away. At first he looked annoyed, but then his eyes lit with conceited understanding. "Oh, am I your next conquest?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he looked me up and down. "Sweet." "Ew. No." I swallowed back the bile that was oozing its way up my throat and yanked him down next to me on an empty bench. Gage was, of course, unfazed by my response. "I have a question about Ivy," I told him. "You mean Ice - Cold b.i.t.c.h? " he said, clenching his jaw as he looked away. Apparently, someone was holding a grudge against his former paramour. Interesting. I hadn't been aware that Gage was capable of feelings. Maybe he'd recently seen the Wizard about a heart. "What about her?"

"What happened to her last year?" I asked. "Why didn't she come back to Easton for her ju nior year? " "You know, jealousy doesn't become you, Reed," Gage told me, his blue eyes sparkling. "You want to get back at Hollis, don't go sniffing around about his new lady friend. You have to make him jealous. And I can help with that," he said suggestively, eyeing my legs. G.o.d. What was with the guys around here? "Did you not catch the 'ew, no'?" I asked him, snapping my knees together. "Now spill."