"That picture. Do you know how it got there? " I asked her. Sabine squinted at my desk. "It's been there, no?" I looked at the photo wildly. Had it been? Had I pinned it there and simply forgotten? Was I totally losing my mind? "No!" I said, shaking my head adamantly. "I hid it. I--" "Reed, stop," Noelle demanded. "This is not a big deal. The cleaning service was here this morning. They probably found it and thought you lost it or something. They probably thought they were being helpful." "You think?" I asked, my hand over my heart. "I know. My stuff is always moved around after they've been here. Just be grateful they didn't steal anything." Noelle reached over and yanked out the pin, removing the photo, which she quickly shoved right back into the bottom drawer. "See? All better." As soon as the photo was gone, my heart rate started to return to normal again. Noelle was right. It was a perfectly good explanation. I wasn't insane. I wasn't. There were perfectly good explanations for all the strange things that had been happening to me lately. I was just glad there were people around to tell me what those explanations were.
* * *
On Monday afternoon between classes, the solarium was buzzing with the news about the Legacy. Half the student body had jammed the campus post office after lunch, and nothing. The mail had been delivered, but there wasn't a single Legacy invite among all the catalogs and college applications and postcards from exotic locales. Everyone knew someone from another school who had received one. It seemed clear that Easton's legacies were, for some reason, being snubbed. And these people were not accustomed to being snubbed. As I wove through the crowded, sun- streaked room, packed with people sipping their mochaccinos and foaming lattes, I caught snippets of indignant conversations. "Barton got them on Friday. Friday! And that's right up the road--" "Dalton shouldn't even be invited. I mean, day schools? Please. Next they're gonna extend it to those crunchy satellite places with, like, no grades." "If we don't get invited, I'm gonna sue. I swear."
I joined the back of the line at the Coffee Carma counter and Noelle slipped in behind me. "We're about to have a Million Moron March on our hands." I laughed and glanced around. "The coffee can't be helping. I think you can get a buzz just by breathing the air in here." "Please. This student body has built up enough tolerance to put all the rejects at Promises, Wonderland, and Betty Ford to shame," Noelle joked. "A little caffeine is not going to affect them." As Noelle looked over her shoulder, her expression darkened. My classmate Diana Waters and a group of girls from Pemberly stood a few feet away, whispering and staring at Noelle. "Problem?" Noelle asked. Diana blanched. "Um, no. No problem. We were just..." She looked down quickly. "Nice boots." "They're Balenciaga," Noelle replied, giving them a cursory look. "And if you don't walk away right now, you'll find out what they look like up your ass." Because I liked Diana, I hid my laugh behind my hand as she and her friends quickly found a table at the back of the room.
"That keeps happening," Noelle said, looking bored as she surveyed the menu behind the counter. "Like no one's ever threatened their way back in here before." We both knew that wasn't why they were staring. They were staring because of what she and the others had done to Thomas. If Noelle had been intimidating last year, her presence was now morbidly fascinating, even scary. She was practically a walking urban legend. Noelle and I ordered our coffees, and I paid for both with my Carma Card. When we turned around, Gage was bearing down on us. "Okay. What the hell is going on? " he demanded. His hair was flattened, highlighted with blond streaks, and cut short. He had day-old stubble all over his chin. Plus he was wearing an L.A. Galaxy soccer jersey, even though he didn't play soccer. "The Beckham makeover, huh? How original," Noelle commented.
"Right. Because you're so above trends,"Gage replied with a sneer. "For your information, while I was in the city this weekend I saw ten of these bogus Legacy invitations with my own eyes. These things are for real and we don't have any." Josh stepped up behind Gage and leaned over to give me a kiss. "If they're bogus, how can they also be real?" Josh questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Shut up, man. I'm not in the mood," Gage snapped. "Sorry," Josh said, trying not to laugh. Which made me laugh. "Oh, I'm really glad this is so funny to you," Gage said derisively. "But if Easton has been blackballed by the Legacy, we're over. We're gonna be shut out of everything. We may as well just go enroll at some public school and call it a day. We have to find out what the hell is going on." Both Gage and Noelle looked at me expectantly. I realized with a start that they were waiting for me to say something. That they were expecting me to find out what the hell was going on. Noelle Lange and Gage Coolidge. Looking to me.
And then I remembered. I was president of Billings. In theory, the most connected girl at Easton. I thought of all the info I had ba
ck in my room. All those powerful people I could contact. Somewhere in there, there had to be an answer. "Don't worry," I told them, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline. "Whatever it is, I'll figure it out." Noelle nodded approvingly and Gage seemed pacified by my promise. Josh reached out and laced his fingers through mine. A flutter of pride welled up inside me. Once again I felt very Noelle Lange, but this time Noelle Lange was standing right there. Very weird. But also very, very cool.
REVOLUTIONARY
I had Dash's cell phone number from over the summer at the Vineyard. He'd given it to both me and Natasha so we could make plans to go sailing. I'd never used it. Instead, Natasha had called him and set it all up. We'd gone out on her dad's boat one afternoon, and Dash had brought two of his ridiculously gorgeous male cousins and a case of beer along. All very innocent. Until the following night at the restaurant where I'd worked, when we'd shared that almost kiss... Anyway, I had never used it. Until now. I needed more information. That was my excuse. And aside from Natasha--who I knew had a Monday night class at Dartmouth--Dash was the only Easton alumni I was still in contact with. Well, and Whittaker. I supposed I could have gotten Constance to call Whittaker. But whatever. It was just a quick question and good-bye. I hit the send button and crossed my legs on my bed, holding my breath as it rang. He answered right away.
"Hi." His tone was intimate. Relieved. Maybe he didn't know it was me. "Hey. It's me, Reed," I said. He chuckled. "I know. There's this amazing new thing called caller ID." I laughed, relaxing slightly. After his cold e-mail, this was a promising reception. "This is a pleasant surprise. How are you? " he asked. Again husky. Intimate. I was blushing. I glanced at my desk. At the framed picture of me and Josh, and cleared my throat. "I'm fine. Actually, I was calling because I have a question," I told him, all business. "I'm listening," he replied. I heard female voices in the background and someone giggled. Suddenly my eyes burned. "Hang on. Let me go out in the hall," he said. As I waited I realized my fists were clenched and I relaxed my fingers. I was not jealous. I could not be jealous. "Sorry about that," he said. "I'm alone now." "Having a party?" I asked.
"Something like that. Our sailing team won the Hood Trophy yesterday and we're still kind of celebrating. It's kind of a big deal around here," he said lightly. "Oh. That's great. Congrats," I said, even though I had no idea what a Hood Trophy was. But if they were celebrating, then where were all the guys from his team? Unless they had very effeminate voices, they weren't present. "I heard you were the only freshman on the team," I said, ignoring the jealous questions that were itching my tongue. "That's incredible." "Thanks. So what's up?" he asked. I was dying to know why he hadn't told me about the team--whether he was just being modest or whether I wasn't important enough to share such things with, but I couldn't do that without sounding like a petulant loser. A petulant loser who was not okay with being just friends. "Reed?" Right. Focus, Reed. He's not your boyfriend, and you have a job to do. I took a deep breath.
"It's about the Legacy. Have you heard what's going on?" I asked. "Something about it being canceled, then not being canceled...." "Yeah, well, now every school on the East Coast has gotten invites except for Easton," I told him. I gave myself major props for staying on point. "That's odd," Dash said. "So, I know you wouldn't be getting one anyway--" "Ouch." He laughed. "But have any of your alumni friends gotten them?" I asked. "Now that you mention it, no one's brought it up," Dash replied. "Usually the guys plan a whole weekend around the thing--even for us unsavories who don't merit an actual invite to the party--and I haven't heard a thing. Not even from Whit, who as you know, lives for this stuff."
Just then the door opened and my heart hit my throat. It was only Sabine, who smiled at me as she crossed the room, but I still felt as if I'd just been snagged. "Do you want me to make some calls? Find out for sure?" Dash was saying. "No, actually. That's okay. I have a plan," I lied, wanting to get off the phone as soon as possible now that I had an audience. "Reed, listen, about Saturday--" "Actually, I can't talk about it right now," I said quickly, as Sabine shot me a quizzical glance. "I'll talk to you later. And thanks." "Wait! I" I ended the call and turned the phone off for good measure, tossing it on my bed as I stood. "What's up?" I asked Sabine, shoving my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. "How was your lab?" "Fine. It was a lab," she said with a laugh. "Why so red? Were you talking with Josh? " she said teasingly. The lump of guilt in my throat was barely swallowable. "No. Just... my brother," I said dismissively.
It was beyond obvious that she didn't believe me, but she simply finished unpacking her books onto her desk and turned to me. "So, Missy was just telling me about this Legacy thing. These people sure are big on their exclusivity." "That's an understatement," I replied, leaning back against my desk. "It's so annoying. All they can talk about is getting their invitations. It's like they're not even thinking about your party anymore," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "My party?" I asked. "The Billings Masquerade! Don't tell me you've forgotten as well! It was your idea. And a good one, I thought, with the whole fund-raiser thing," she said. "Oh, well, yeah. But the Legacy means a lot to everyone. I get it," I said, averting my eyes. I picked up a pen from my desk and toyed with it. "Besides, I still plan to set up the scholarship fund in Cheyenne's name. We can start with money from the Billings alumni fund and then ask for donations." "So you're just going to give up," Sabine said. "What do you mean? " I asked, stung by her unusually judgmental tone. "I mean, you should go down there and tell those girls that instead of moping, they should be planning the masquerade. The one they were so excited about," Sabine said, stepping toward me. "You're the president. This was your thing. And now they're ignoring it."
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Sabine, the Billings Masquerade... it was a good idea, but it's not the Legacy. You don't understand what this party means to these people. It's, like, a point of honor. They have to go." "So that's it. You just back down," Sabine sniffed. "I'm not backing down. I'm going to help them get into the Legacy," I told her. "Give the people what they want, right?" "I don't get you. Why are you going to help them get into this thing you can't even go to and help them dismiss your party and your authority in the process?" she asked. "Doesn't that offend you?" "Okay, when did you become Miss Revolutionary?" I joked, trying to lighten the sudden and extreme tension. Sabine turned away from me and shook her head. "I'm just trying to help you," she said. "You're the president of Billings. I just wish you would start acting like it." I felt as if I'd just been slapped across the face. "Well, I think I am acting like it. I'm going to get Easton into the Legacy. For Billings, for Easton--"
"For Noelle," she said bitterly. Ah. So there was the real truth. Noelle. She had a problem with Noelle. "I'm not doing this for her," I said. At least not just for her. Sabine gazed at me for a long moment, looking hurt and betrayed. "Whatever you say." She turned around and picked up a book from her desk. She picked at its spine, then hugged it to her chest. "Hey, maybe we can do something together that night--the two of us. Since neither one of us will be able to go," she suggested hopefully. I wasn't feeling all that buddy-buddy toward her after all the criticism, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. So I said, "Yeah. Maybe." But inside I was actually hoping I would find a way to finagle an invite to the Legacy. The very idea of missing out, of having to listen to everyone around me gab about how amazing it was and relate the minor details of everything I'd missed, made me cringe. I was president of Billings. There had to be a way. "I was just going to walk over to the solarium to get some coffee," Sabine said. "Do you want to--" At that moment, the door to our room was flung open and Noelle grabbed my arm. "Sorry, Frenchie. Gotta borrow our girl," she said.
Then she dragged me right out of the room, leaving a very dejected- looking Sabine behind.
* * *
The entire population of Billings, minus Sabine, was gathered in the parlor, nursing coffees, talking in low tones and looking jittery. I felt as if I'd just walked in on an Al-Anon meeting. (I had attended one before, along with my brother, at the urging of my father, who had thought it might help us cope with my mom. It didn't.) They all looked up at me with hopeful, bloodshot eyes. "All right. I've brought our fearless leader," Noelle said, depositing me in front of the fireplace. She took a step away and turned to me, arms crossed. "We need to figure out what to do about the Legacy," she told me, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. "Everyone's freaking out." "Clearly," I replied. Even Lorna and Astrid looked upset. And, like myself, they wouldn't be getting invites. "This level of stress is not good for my complexion," Portia said. "ImeapVN.G." Very Not Good. I knew that one. There wasn't a zit in sight, but who was I to quibble?
"I just don't get it," London pouted, tugging on her hair. "Why did everyone get them but us? What did we do?" "I didn't do anything," Vienna volunteered, quite unnecessarily. "Whoever's throwing it must have a grudge against Easton or something," Tiffany said, snapping a photo of Kiki's boots, which Astrid had painted with swirls of orange and yellow paint during their art class that day. "It's the only explanation." "Unless the Easton stack of invites just got lost in the mail," Rose offered hopefully as she tugged on her red curls. "Still, somebody would have gotten one," I said. "And apparently none of our alumni have received them either." Noelle shot me a "how did you know that? " look that made my toes curl
. I wouldn't be answering that question anytime soon. "Omigod! Even the grads have been blackballed? What are we going to do?" London wailed. There was a general grumble and a few sighs of despair. Enough was enough already.
"Okay, look. I have an idea," I announced, silencing the room. "We need to get our hands on one of the invitations. If we can do that, maybe we can figure out where they came from. And if we can figure out where they came from, we can find out who bought them." "Good idea!" Tiffany announced. "Very CSI." I grinned. "So... get dialing. You all know someone who got one. Get somebody to send us an original." A dozen cell phones flipped open. Texts were rapidly typed and sent. A few people made actual calls. Of those few, we could all instantly tell the news wasn't good. "No way. No way!" Vienna half screeched. She stood up and removed the phone from her ear, the better to yell into the receiver. "You suck, Vanessa! I hope you choke on a condom and die!" she shouted, slapping the phone closed. "Vienna!" Rose admonished. "What? We all know my sister's a slut," Vienna said with wide- eyed innocence. Her sister? That was kind of the pot calling the kettle black, wasn't it? I wondered why Vanessa Clark didn't go to Easton, but let that impertinent question pass. "What happened?" I asked. "She said, and I quote, I can't send you the invitation,'" Vienna said, putting on an overly shrill voice and tipping her head from side to side, like a little girl mocking someone on the playground. "I just got an e-mail saying that if anyone shared info about the Legacy with an Easton student, the planner would find out about it, and the person who blabbed would be kept out.' Ugh! I am so not giving her Bubbles now." "Bubbles?" "My horse," Vienna mumbled.
Her horse. The best hand-me-down Scott had ever given me was a portable CD player. "You guys? Rourke says the same thing!" London cried, clutching her phone with both hands as she read a text. "He's afraid of the e-mail." "That's what they're all saying," Kiki confirmed, kicking back on the sofa and crossing her now colorful combat boots on the table with a bang. She tipped her head back to look up at the ceiling and her pink bangs fell back from her face. "If Vanessa isn't getting your horse, can I have him?" she asked the ceiling. Vienna looked like she was actually pondering this, but the rest of the room was on high alert. I looked at Noelle. Clearly this ostracism went far beyond anything I could have possibly imagined. For once, my baffled expression was mirrored in her own. For once, Noelle Lange did not know what was going on. That realization was the most disturbing of all.
A CHALLENGE
"Whit is losing it. He thinks the world as we know it is crumbling," Constance whispered to me during morning services on Tuesday. "According to him, this Legacy snubbing is an affront against everything it stands for." Like what? Drugs? Random sex acts? Underage drinking? Not that I was getting all goody-goody, but it was kind of funny how old-world honor had somehow devolved into getting an invite to the biggest night of debauchery known to man. "And I was going to get to go this year as his plus one," Constance mumbled, looking down at her hands. "It figures." I gnawed on the inside of my lip. There was a general sense of disgruntled acceptance on campus this morning. I had spent half the night poring over the Billings info, trying to come up with a plan of attack, and I had a few ideas. But if people were starting to accept the fact that we weren't going to the Legacy, then maybe I'd be better off dropping it. Did I really want to bother some illustrious alumni with a petty, whining query about a party? Did I really want my first act as Billings president to be that superficial? Maybe Sabine was right. Maybe I'd be better off going back to my original plan and throwing a masquerade in Cheyenne's honor. There was something more honorable in that. More mature and forward thinking. I was starting to think that the Billings Masquerade would make a much better first impression on the alumni committee. Plus there was the added bonus of me actually being able to attend. And of maybe, somehow, proving Cheyenne's final e-mail wrong.
"Before you are dismissed, I have one final announcement to make," Headmaster Cromwell said, taking the podium. He wore a dark blue suit and a yellow tie, pinned, as always, with an American flag tie tack. His white hair was slicked back from his square face and his eyes slid over the chapel with obvious disdain. Why had a man who clearly detested teenagers ever taken a job like this? "I am aware that the annual Legacy party is scheduled, as always, for the end of this month." The chapel filled with the sounds of creaking pews and surprised murmurs. No adult, as far as I knew, had ever avowed any knowledge of the Legacy to the students. It was the ultimate "don't ask, don't tell." The headmaster rapped his knuckles against the podium to get our attention. The sound echoed ominously through the high-ceilinged chapel, and silence fell.
"I am also aware that previous administrations have looked the other way when it comes to this particular event, caring not for the safety of our students, nor for the reputation of this academy," Cromwell continued, his voice even more stern than usual. "That ignorance ends with me." There was no sound in the chapel other than my own breathing. Which was starting to grow shallow. I hated this man. I so, so hated him. First he'd dismantled every Billings tradition he could get his hands on, then he'd interrogated us all into the wee hours of the morning on the night of initiation and expelled Cheyenne. Which, of course, had seemed like a blessing, after everything Cheyenne had done. It had seemed like the end of a nightmare. But in twenty-twenty hindsight, it had only meant the beginning of a new one. Now this. "If anyone attempts to leave this campus on the night of October thirty-first, rest assured that I will know about it, that those persons will be stopped, and that the punishment will be severe," Cromwell said ominously. "This is my school. I make the rules. You are to follow them."
Was I just imagining it, or did he look right at me when he said that? I felt my heart flutter with defiance. Was he challenging me? Daring me? "You are dismissed," Cromwell said. The school rose as one and filed into the aisles. "What a dick," someone behind me said. "Obviously the ignorance didn't end with him if he doesn't even know about the invites." "Like he could really stop us from going. If we wanted to get out, we'd get out."
"I really don't like this guy," Noelle said as I joined her. "Yeah. Tell me about it," I said. I shoved past her into the bright autumn sun, feeling adrenaline pumping through my veins. I had always hated being told what to do. The only time I had ever really tolerated it was last year, when I had been trying to get into Billings, but even then it had been difficult. Now, I found, I hated even more being told what I couldn't do. The mystery planner was trying to keep us out of the Legacy, and now Cromwell was making it his own personal mission to thwart us, too. Who did these people think they were? Easton had as much right to participate in the Legacy as anyone.