“I didn't intend to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing,” Whittaker began, resting his wrists on the edge of the table like a well-?mannered boy. “Reed, if there is, in fact, someone in Billings who has cheated . . . you cannot, under any circumstances, turn them in.”
“What?” Josh blurted.
'Your opinion is kind of naive, don't you think?“ Whittaker said, picking up his fork and toying with the eggs on his plate. ”Not to mention hypocritical."
Josh pushed back a bit and crossed his arms over his chest. “Wow. Called a naive hypocrite before I even get to morning services. That's a first.”
'Well, it's true,“ Whittaker said. 'You sit there talking about how people in the wrong should be called on their actions, but did you ever do anything about the fact that your roommate was a drug dealer?”
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I felt as if the entire room had just been hit by a cold north wind. Goose bumps everywhere. Josh's face went ashen.
“That's none of your business,” he said.
“It is when you're filling my friend's head with empty morality,” Whittaker told him.
Then, satisfied that he'd rendered Josh speechless, Whittaker turned and looked me dead in the eye.
'You do not want to ostracize yourself from the women of Billings, Reed,“ he said. ”Trust me. Not if you want to have a life after you graduate this place. That's reality."
I swallowed hard and looked at Josh. He rolled his eyes, but said nothing. I realized that Whittaker had just hit upon the very reason Josh's idealism had made me squirm. Ever since my first day at Easton, all I had heard was that the Billings Girls had the brightest futures of anyone at this school. It was all about connections. The connections got you everywhere. If I turned in Noelle and the others, would all my Billings connections be severed for life? Would everything I had gained by getting in there be automatically obliterated?
“You know I'm right,” Whittaker said haughtily. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Excuse me,” Josh said, shoving away from the table. “I'm feeling a little nauseous all of a sudden.”
He grabbed one of the remaining doughnuts and stormed out. Whittaker took a deep breath and shook his head. “He'll learn,” he said. “Eventually.”
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I watched Whittaker shovel eggs into his mouth and was suddenly disgusted by the very sight of him. Even if he was right on some level, something about his all-?knowing tone completely turned me off. Who had died and made him the fourth wise man?
“Now that we're alone . . ,” he said, lifting himself out of his chair and taking Josh's, so that he was sitting directly across from me. “I wanted to let you know that all the arrangements are in place for Friday night. I'll pick you up on the circle at six o'clock. That should give us plenty of time to get to Boston for our reservation. I am so looking forward to this, Reed.”
The way he was looking at me made me feel almost feverish with revulsion. There was desire in his eyes, plain and simple and obvious. He thought that this date was going to end the same way that night in the woods had.
Well, he was probably hoping to avoid the vomit.
“Are you excited?” he asked.
It's for Thomas. It's so that you can go to the Legacy and see Thomas.
“Sure,” I said weakly.
Then he reached out and took my hand. He covered it with both his big, clumsy, oafish ones. Staring at them, I had sudden flashes of another pair of hands. Thin but strong. Self-?assured and tender. Hands that had caused me to flush with pleasure every time they touched me.
I glanced to the left and saw several junior girls from one of the other dorms eyeing me with envy. Everyone knew what
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Whittaker's gesture meant. It meant I was one step closer to being his plus-?one. And they were one step closer to sitting at home on Halloween night.
“Maybe after dinner we can stop somewhere,” Whittaker said, coloring slightly. “Somewhere we can be alone.”
His thumb pressed into my palm. My stomach turned and I pulled my hand away. There was no way I could do this. No way I could sit in a car with this guy for hours each way wondering when he was going to make his move, dreading the thought of his lips on mine. He was a sweet guy--an awkward, hopeful, sweet guy who was just trying. I could see that. But he was trying on the wrong girl.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, his eyes wide.