heard something. I mean, they wouldn't be the most reliable sources, but it could be a start."
A realization hit me and I stopped in my tracks so fast Marc tripped forward in surprise. I didn't
know anyone at Barton. But I knew someone who did. Josh Hollis.
"What? What is it?" Marc asked, adjusting his backpack.
I looked west toward the outer buildings. Toward the J.A.M. Building in particular. "I have an idea--
someone who might be able to help us," I said, breathless.
"Who?" Marc asked.
"I'll let you know if it pans out," I told him.
Then I turned on my heel and started for the J.A.M. Building. Josh had to be in the studio, working
on his final project for his painting class. And if he wasn't, I was just going to have to track him
down elsewhere. Right then, he was my only hope.
"Okay, Cryptic Girl! You do that!" Marc shouted after me.
I didn't even bother to turn around and respond. I had to focus. Focus on keeping my nervously
beating heart inside my chest. I was going to see Josh. And hopefully I was going to clear my
friend. That was about all my brain could handle at that moment.
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BOLLOCKS
A fat drop of rain smacked into my cheek about halfway across the quad. Seconds later, the rain
was coming down in earnest, and by the time I slipped into J.A.M.'s well-lit hallway, my hair was
soaked through and my teeth were chattering. A couple of girls shot me derisive looks as they
opened their Coach umbrellas and ducked out into the rain, but I hardly noticed. My mind was
racing at the idea of talking to Josh. But I forced myself to keep moving. I walked over to the studio
and opened the door.There were a few students peppered throughout the room, working busily at
easels. They all looked up when I entered. Josh was the only one who didn't instantly look away.
"Can I talk to you? " I mouthed to him from the doorway. The place was so silent I didn't want to
disturb it any further. Josh dropped his paintbrush and came right over.
"What happened to you? You look like a drowned rat," he said.
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"Let's go in the hall," I suggested.
I walked out and dropped my bag on the floor against the far wall of the hallway. Josh leaned back
against the opposite one, keeping his distance. Next to him was a large bulletin board papered
with information about various clubs and plays and outings. A huge, colorful Holiday Dinner sign
was tacked up right in the center, reminding me of how very lame the gift I'd bought him for said
dinner was. But that wasn't the point right now.
"Listen," I began. "I know you're going to think I'm insane, and I know you're probably not in the
mood to do me any favors--"
"Is this about Ivy?" Josh said grimly, picking at an old piece of Scotch tape on the frame of the
bulletin board.
I tried not to cringe. His question was, after all, called for. The last time we'd spoken I'd told him
he didn't know his girlfriend the way I did, and then I'd fled.
"No. It's not," I told him. "You still talk to that Cole guy, right? Astrid's ex-boyfriend?"
Josh and Cole Roget had hit it off at Cheyenne's Christmas party the previous year after
discovering their mutual love of art, and I knew they had kept in touch via e-mail while Cole was
studying in Paris last spring. Josh took a deep breath and stopped picking at the tape, instead
tucking his hands behind him against the hallway wall. He looked suddenly uncomfortable.
Squirmy.
"Yeah. My brother and I actually met up with him one night in Vienna over the summer. Why?"
I bit my lip and prepared myself for his forthcoming reaction.
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Lacing my fingers together, I brought my hands up over my chest and held my breath.
"Is there any possible way you could call him and find out if he knows why Astrid was kicked out of
Barton?"
Josh looked at me like I was insane. "What?"
"I swear there's a good reason," I said in a rush. "You know that I wouldn't come here and ask you
to do this unless there was a good reason. Especially not after the way we left things."
"No. No way," Josh said, standing up straight and shaking his head. "What would I even say to
him? 'Hey, I'm calling you out of nowhere to ask why your ex-girlfriend got expelled?' You're
cracked."
I moved away from the hallway wall, hazarding a step toward him. "I know. I know it's insane. But I
desperately, not sure how he was going to take this. "Trust me. I just... need to be sure."
Josh stared at me, looking me over as if he was trying to figure out what to make of me. As if he'd
never seen me before. I tried my best to plead with my eyes. Finally, he tipped his head forward,
brought the heels of both hands to his forehead, and let out a kind of groan.
"I already know why she got kicked out," he said.
I felt as if the doors at the end of the hall had just burst open and the wind had knocked me
sideways.
"You know? How?" I asked, my heart pounding anew.
Josh looked up at me through his lashes. One perfect curl had fallen forward over his forehead.
Even with all the intrigue, all I wanted to do right then was kiss him.
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"Cole told me over the summer," he admitted, swallowing hard. He crossed his arms over his
chest, shoving his hands under his arms and looking off down the hall. Whatever it was Astrid had
done, I could tell by his face that it appalled him even to think about it. My throat suddenly went
dry. Had Astrid really done something awful?
"What?" I asked, barely audible. "What was it?"
Josh reached back and scratched the back of his neck. His face was turning redder and redder by
the second. Whatever he had to say, he really didn't want to say it.
"Josh," I prompted.
"Fine! Astrid slept with her history instructor, okay?" he blurted finally, keeping his voice down so
the people in the studio wouldn't hear. "That's why she got kicked out of Barton."
My heart completely stopped beating. Astrid and a professor? I immediately envisioned her
making out with the dreaded Mr. Barber--our current history teacher--and almost heaved right
there on Josh's boots. But wait. This was good news. Astrid hadn't hurt anyone.
At that moment, the door at the end of the hallway swung closed with a bang and we both looked
up to find Astrid herself standing there in a hot pink rain slicker and matching hat, clutching her big
black portfolio. It was blatantly clear from the stunned look on her face that she had just heard
exactly what Josh had said.
"Oh, bollocks," she said. "How did you find out?"
Josh and I both stood up straight, snagged. Astrid slowly trudged over to us, her black and white
polka-dotted rain boots squeaking and squealing on the hardwood floor.
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"Actually, it doesn't matter. You're not going to tell Trey, though, are you?"she asked Josh.
Trey? What did she care what Trey thought?
"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me," Josh said, blushing all over again.
"I'm sorry. What am I missing here?" I said.
Astrid took a deep breath and let it out audibly. She whipped her hat off and tousled her short
dark hair before looking at me.
"I've sort of been seeing Trey since the
beginning of term," she said.
"What?" I blurted. How did I not know this? Josh and Trey were roommates. How had Astrid and I
never talked about this? How had Josh and I never talked about this? Especially back when we
were together?"I know. I know. At first I kept it a secret because I didn't want Cheyenne to find
out," Astrid admitted. "I mean, it's like breaking the code, isn't it? You don't date a friend's ex,
right?"
Apparently not, if Noelle's reaction to Dash and me was any indication. Josh shuffled his feet
uncomfortably.
"Then, after she died, I didn't want all of you to think I was some backstabbing slut, so I just kept
my mouth shut," Astrid added.
"That was why you didn't want me to choose Trey off the FYR list!" I blurted. Back when the
Billings Girls actually cared about me, they had set up Find Your Rebound to find me an eligible
bachelor to help me get over Josh. Noelle had suggested Trey, but Astrid had negged him--
supposedly because it would be too weird if I were
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to date Cheyenne's ex. "Because then you would have had to tell me what was going on."
"The FYR list?" Josh asked.
"Long story," Astrid told him.
I thanked her with my eyes, relieved to avoid having to explain the whole thing.
the reason I was with Mrs. Naylor when we found Cheyenne that morning. I had been out all night
at Trey's room playing online games with the blokes and she had just caught me sneaking back in.
She was going to bust me, but then we found Cheyenne and... I suppose she let it slide."
Astrid looked down at her feet and I glanced over at Josh. The whole thing was just so out of left
field, I felt like I needed some kind of confirmation. "Seriously. All three of you were together all
night?"
"Yep. Girl's a gamer. She put me to shame," Josh admitted with a smile, reaching over to slap
Astrid on the back like she was an old poker buddy
"I can't believe neither of you told me," I said, stunned.
"It's my fault," Astrid said. "I swore Josh to secrecy."
"So, are we done here?" Josh asked, glancing at me. "Because I have a lot of work to do..."
My heart twisted painfully. He was so eager to get away from me. First I'd talked crap about his
girlfriend and then I'd made him reveal Astrid's dirty little secret. What else could I possibly do to
push him further away?
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"Yeah. We're done," I told him. "Thanks, Josh."
He gave me the stiffest of smiles before retreating back into the studio.
"I really wish you two crazy kids could work it out," Astrid said, sounding so sincere that it made
me want to slaughter myself for ever suspecting her. For ever prying into her private life.
"I know. Me too."
I leaned back against the cool brick wall behind me and let everything I'd just learned sink in,
realizing that all of this added up to a major positive. Astrid was innocent. She had been with Josh
and Trey all night, and Naylor had discovered her sneaking in after Cheyenne was already dead.
As of that moment, there was only one suspect left. And her name was Ivy Slade.
Maybe there was still a chance for us two crazy kids--once I got the third wheel carted off to jail.
127
BILLINGS JUNKIE
Sunday, I studied in the library. I studied all day long, from 9 a.m. until well after the sun had gone
down. Now that I had only one suspect left, I felt somehow more secure. Like I could take a day
off. Take a day off and try to salvage my academic future.It looked like Ivy had decided to dedicate
herself to work for the day as well. She had been hunkered down at a table on the other side of
the huge bookcase to my right ever since I had arrived. Every half hour or so, I got up to stretch or
go to the bathroom just to make sure she was still there. As long as she was studying, she wasn't
out somewhere plotting against Noelle, or me, or anyone else. She switched study partners
throughout the afternoon, allotting Josh a two-hour stint, which was so fun for me, but she almost
never left her own chair. Easy girl to stake out.
Finally, it was about two hours after dinner, and I had definitely hit my limit. I had read the same
sentence in my history text at least ten
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times and none of the info had sunk in. It was time to pack it in. But I felt good about my day. I had
accomplished a lot. It was quite possible that I could now avoid flunking my finals. A bonus,
considering the last thing I needed was to lose my scholarship.
Gathering my things, I stood up and smiled at the other loners who dotted the seats around the
table, all hunkered down with their iPods. Not one of them smiled back. Even among the school
losers I was persona non grata. But I just let it roll off my back. This had been a good day. I wasn't
going to let anyone get to me. After one last check on Ivy's position--still taking notes from her
English anthology--I headed for the door.
Outside, I pulled my white wool hat down over my forehead and started carefully along the stone
path around the quad. Last night the rain had turned to snow, leaving about three inches of
pristine white blanket over the grass. The paths, however, had iced over, and even after a daylong
battle by the grounds crews, there were still patches of the slick stuff here and there, just waiting
to trip up an unsuspecting student. I kept my eyes trained for any speck of black ice.
It wasn't until I was about ten yards away that I realized I had walked to Billings instead of
Pemberly.
I stopped in my tracks, looking up at the tall building that used to be my home, and tears of
embarrassment flooded my eyes. How pathetic was I? Pemberly was in the complete opposite
direction. Damn my subconscious. Clearly it had a sick sense of humor.
I was about to turn on my heel and rush off before anyone could spot me, when I realized there
was music coming from inside. All
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the lights were on in the foyer and the parlor. Someone on the first floor had cracked a window,
and in addition to the music I could hear laughter. Laughter and talking and music.
The Billings Girls were having a party. I saw Portia and Shelby sweep through the foyer, dressed in
jewel-toned cocktail dresses and grasping flutes of champagne.
Just walk away, Reed. Don't do this to yourself.But I couldn't help it. I was drawn to Billings like a
junkie in need of a fix. I crunched through the untouched snow, ducked behind a tree, and peeked
around the trunk. From there I could see through the huge bay window in the parlor, and the
smaller windows in the foyer. And what I saw made me abysmally sad.
They were all there. All the Billings Girls. Everyone dressed to the nines. Fires blazed in both
fireplaces and a Christmas tree was decorated in reds and silvers in the corner of the parlor. As I
watched, Rose passed out presents from under the tree and a tuxedoed waiter offered a tray of
hors d'oeuvres. Everyone looked so happy. So peaceful. So warm. And here I was, staring in from
the cold, my shoes filled with rapidly melting snow and tears threatening to turn my lashes into
icicles.
Memories of the holiday party Cheyenne had thrown last year flooded my mind. That was the first
night I had gotten to know her good side. The first night I had really felt connected to all the
Billings Girls, not just Noelle, Ariana, and Kiran. Taylor, of course, had left for home by then. But
this used to be my life. This revelry, this decadence, this warmth. It should have still been my life.
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Suddenly, two girls stepped in front of the parlor window and sat in the wide window seat, their
backs to me. My already cold heart instantly froze over. There was a brunette and a blond. The
dark hair and the light. The black dress and the blue. Noelle and Ariana. What was she doing here?
Why would they--
No. I closed my eyes and shook my head against the blood rushing through my ears. It couldn't be
Ariana. Of course it couldn't.
I opened my eyes again and the girl turned to the side to speak to Noelle. My heart started beating
again. It wasn't Ariana after all. It was Amberly Carmichael.
But what was she doing, dressing up as Ariana? Was she trying to look like the girl? Because she
was succeeding. She was even wearing an aqua scarf--Ariana's signature accessory. Suddenly I
realized that this was why that weird deja vu had hit me the other day in the conservatory when
Amberly had frantically attempted to clean her coat of the latte stains. With her softened look, her
straightened hair, her slightly boho clothes, Amberly had slowly started to morph into Ariana.
But why? Why would she want to look like a murderer? Did she think that Noelle would somehow
like her more if she emulated the girl's former best friend? It made no sense.
Suddenly, Amberly turned toward the window and did a double take. She touched Noelle's arm as
if to alert her and I sprang out from behind the tree and ran. I ran straight across the snowy quad,
forgoing the icy walkways and cutting my own erratic path through the snow. The last thing I
wanted was for Noelle to see me standing out there like some pathetic Oliver Twistian waif.
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But it wasn't just that. It was also Amberly. Her transformation had me officially freaked. The girl
had to be seriously disturbed if she was purposely trying to emulate a cold-blooded killer.
Maybe, just maybe, Ivy wasn't the only person on campus worth looking into after all.
132
SIDEKICKS
The freshman girls always gathered in the bathroom on the first floor of the class building after
fourth period. They would scurry in there in a loud, giggling, gabbing clump and spend at least
fifteen minutes doing God knows what before reemerging and heading off to lunch. The rest of us
avoided that bathroom like it was the source of a festering boil plague. Honestly, freshman girls
could be really annoying. They all dressed alike, they all sounded alike, they all looked alike. I could
hardly wait for a few of them to mature, grow their own personalities, and infuse a little variety
into the group.But on Monday after fourth period, I broke the upperclassman rules. I walked
downstairs and straight into the freshman bathroom. Instantly all their shrieking and laughter died
down. There were at least ten of them in front of the long mirror, fixing their liquid eyeliner and
brushing their super-straight hair, but at my entrance, they