Legacy (Private 6)

"I just wanted to have a good time tonight, "I told Josh, feeling weak and rubbery all over. "I love you, but I want to have a life. I shouldn't have to choose." "Well, I'm asking you to," he said. This was not happening. He was not forcing me to do this. He was not forcing me to break up with him. Forcing me to say the words, when he was the one making everything so damn difficult. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. "I can't do this," I said, backing away from him. My head shook from side to side of its own volition, swimming in fizzy pink drinks. "I can't." He stared at me. The resignation on his face was clear. "Then I have to go. Have fun with your friends. " There was such venom in the word. Such anger in his eyes. When had Josh become so mean? So judgmental? How could he say he loved me, then look at me that way? And how could he so easily just turn his back and leave?

The crowd swallowed him. I suddenly became aware of the music again. It was everywhere. Around me, inside me, forcing its way through me. Had he just broken up with me? Was that what had just happened here? Someone elbowed me in the face. I was hip-checked into a curvy chick's backside. On this dance floor if you didn't keep moving, it was your funeral. The entire room spun and spun and spun. Suddenly, I had to get out. I needed air. I needed to think. I needed, quite possibly, to puke. Looked like Vienna's bet on Constance as the first hurler was going to be a bust. "Reed! Reed!" Sabine shoved her way over to me. I hadn't even realized she had gone. "Sorry. I have to get out of here," I said, clutching her arms for balance. "Wait. Here! Someone gave this to me and told me to give it to you!" she announced, excited. She wrested one arm from my fingers and held up a folded piece of paper like it was the golden ticket.

"Who?" I asked, trying hard to breathe evenly. Had Josh and I just broken up? Had we? "I don't know! Some girl. She wore a masklike everyone else," she said, clasping her hands. She was really loving the mysterious aspect of the Legacy. "Open it!" I did. The letters were fuzzy, and I had to squint to make out the message. It read, quite simply, "Meet me on the roof." "Oooh. Intrigue!" Sabine said with a gasp. "Are you going to go? The room whirled before me again. What girl would want to meet me alone? And why did it have to be the roof of all places? After last fall, I wasn't a fan of heights in general, especially not roofs. I pressed my hand to my forehead. My body heat was starting to skyrocket. Just like it always did right before I heaved.

Okay. So maybe some fresh air was a good idea. "Yeah. I'm going to go," I said. And before I could vomit on Sabine's brand-new shoes, I fled.

* * *

I stumbled along the lollipop-colored bungalows on the roof. The air was cool and crisp. I could breathe again. I could think. And everything was becoming clear. Perfectly, sharply clear. Josh and I had just broken up. He'd made me choose. In his mind I had chosen the Billings Girls. He'd left me here. Left me. How could he do this to me? Someone inside one of the bungalows laughed and I snapped to, remembering why I was there. A glance around revealed a few couples standing near the guardrail, looking out at the view. Some guy was sucking on some girl's neck, sitting on the edging around the skylight. Otherwise, there was no one. No single girls waiting for me. I looked at the note again.

Meet me on the roof. It was not a girl's handwriting. Not at all. My heart started to pound. What was going on here? A few staggering steps. Two feet away from me, a girl moaned in ecstasy. A champagne cork popped. Someone shrieked. I turned around, lost my balance, and a hand grabbed my arm. I didn't even have time to resist. The hand pulled me into a red bungalow. Pulled me against a warm, firm body. "What are you--" The eyes were deep. Warm. Brown. He took off his black mask. My mouth watered. It was Dash. "You're here," I heard myself say. My brain felt buoyant. Unfocused. My limbs weak."I've been watching you all night." His hands ran across my bare shoulders as his eyes moved over me. My face, my hair my shoulders, my breasts, my hips, and back to my eyes. "I couldn't take it anymore; I had to touch you." "Dash--" It was barely a gasp. My constricted lungs wouldn't allow anything more. His eyes were so intense. So searching. Was he on something? Considering where we were, it was more than likely. But I couldn't tell. Maybe I was too drunk. Maybe, right then, I didn't care. All I knew was that there was too much air between us. Too much space. It was mere inches, but it was too much.

"Reed, I can't... You're all I think about. I can't do this anymore. I can't. Please. Please..." I found myself stepping closer to him. There was no way I could stop. This was bad. This was very, very bad. But we were alone. And this was Dash McCafferty. Strong. Handsome. Impossibly sexy. And Josh... Josh had left me. He'd left me here all alone. My heart hurt so much all I wanted to do was forget. To lose myself. Lose myself in this. "Please..." He was begging. Begging me to touch him. Dash McCafferty. Begging me. This was the Legacy. Anything could happen. And no one. Would ever. Know. "What do you want to do, Dash?" I whispered. And then he kissed me. Everything inside of me exploded. I instantly weakened and sank into him. He held on to me, his strong arms around my back, and held me

up. Held me to him. Pressed every inch of his body into every inch of mine.

God, what had we been waiting for? How could we have let this go for so long? If I had known that kissing him would feel like this--would make my entire body vibrate with pleasure--I would have kissed him at the Driscoll. I would have kissed him at the Vineyard. I would have kissed him last year at any and every chance I had. Dash pulled me forward. He was shaking. And I knew. He felt it the same way I did. Our bodies needed to be together. Needed to feel each other. Needed to ride this psychotic rush wherever it took us. He backed toward the silk-draped mattress. I didn't resist in the slightest. When he pulled away from me, I fell forward a bit, my lips searching for his. "What" He smiled. Then he swooped me up in his arms like a child. The feathers on my skirt tickled my skin, and even that was somehow arousing. As Dash laid me back on the bed, I grabbed his jacket and pulled him down on top of me. I just wanted to feel his weight. Feel his body. Feel every inch of him.

"God. Could you be any more gorgeous?" he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck. I reached behind his head and pulled his lips down on mine again. From there, it got very heavy, very fast. My dress was loosened. His jacket was off. My breast was exposed. His shirt was unbuttoned. I watched my fingers as they worked the closure on his pants, hardly daring to believe what I was doing. But I couldn't stop. Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't. I needed him. Now. Dash's fingers slowly, tremblingly, moved up my torso toward my chest. I sighed in ecstasy. Somewhere outside, someone shouted. There was a crash. Breaking glass. A cry. I barely even noticed. Didn't notice a thing other than Dash's body, moving fully on top of mine. And then, the curtains were flung open. And Josh was there. And all the hurt and betrayal and anger and shock and pain in the world was reflected in his eyes. "Josh!" And then he was gone.

* * *

What. The hell. Was I doing? I shoved Dash off me, yanked up the zipper on my gown, and almost fell over in the process. Righting myself, I shoved my way out of the tent. Dash shouted something after me, but I couldn't even comprehend it. The roof and all the colors spun around and around as I searched for Josh. No. No. No. My heart felt like someone was jamming an ice pick into it over and over and over again. My stomach lurched. I heaved for breath. It was no good. I turned around and all my insides came out through my mouth. All over the pristine glass of the skylight. "Ew! Bitch!" "Nasty!" I dragged my hand across my mouth. Tears poured from my eyes. I couldn't be this drunk. I tried to think back and count the pink drinks. There had only been three, maybe. Maybe four. Or was it five? On a full stomach. And yet I couldn't focus. Couldn't stop my mind from whirling. Could barely even stand up straight. What was wrong with me?

Then I heard someone shout and, holding my hands to my head, I looked up. Josh was just shoving his way past a group of revelers through the door, into the house. I wasn't too late. "Josh! Josh, wait!" I stumbled forward, tripping on my feathers, and yanked up my skirt, balling it in one hand so I could sprint. Down a few steps to the fifth floor. Tripping. Gripping the guardrail. Everything spinning. Everything a blur. There were people everywhere--passed out against walls, sucking face on the floor, talking and drinking and smoking. It was all distorted. All wrong. But somehow I saw Josh fling himself down the spiral staircase at a run. Bumping along the hallway from one side to the other, I attempted to follow. The moment I started down the spiral stairs, my stomach heaved again. I looked down, and four floors of partiers stretched and contracted and turned below me. Some unsuspecting dancer was going to get thrown up on. I turned inward, covered my mouth, and kept running. Luckily, Josh got off at the fourth floor. I stumbled off the last step and managed to take in a shaky breath. I got a mouthful of pot smoke--there was a huge group of kids on the floor violating all manner of bongs--but somehow I still felt better. I lurched forward and grabbed his arm.

"Josh, please. Please! We need to talk!" I cried. He turned around and looked at me. There was nothing but pity and disgust in his eyes. I reached for him, but he backed away. I had to press my hands into the wall to keep from falling over. "You're a mess," he snapped. "I know. But Josh. I didn't... I didn't know...." What was I supposed to say? How could I possibly explain? I was so confused. So hot. So desperate. I just wanted him to stop looking at me that way. I just wanted him to look at me the way he had in the woods. The way he had when he first told me he loved me. I wanted to go back. I had to go back.

"I came back here to apologize," Josh said stonily. "I came back here to tell you I felt bad about what I said. That I felt guilty. But where do I find you? I find you half naked, pinned under one of my best friends!" He shouted this last part so loudly I flinched, and several of the bong Buddhas around us laughed. "Dude, chill. It is the Legacy," one of them said. "Josh, please. I didn't know what I was doing. Something's wrong with me. I feel... I didn't--" "Think you were going to get caught?" he spat. "Well, you did. And just so we're clear, we're over. As of right now, I don't ever want to see you again. Good-bye, Reed." He turned around, shoved some guy aside, and ran. "Josh!" The tears flowed like a waterfall now as I stumbled after him. "Josh, no! Please! You can't--" But he was too fast for my addled self this time. He hit the staircase and disappeared. "Omigod. Omigod. Omigod." I was hyperventilating. There was no air. I pressed my face into the cool wall and let my whole body follow. Josh was gone. Really and truly gone.

And all around me, people were laughing. People were talking and shouting and shoving and smoking and dancing and kissing and touching and drinking. And Josh was gone. Really and truly gone. I had never felt anything like the pain in my chest, in my stomach, in my lungs. And suddenly, I knew that I couldn't survive without him. I closed my eyes. All I wanted to do was close out the pain. Sink to the floor and stay there for the rest of my life. And then, someone laughed. My eyes popped open as an icy chill chased down my spine. I knew that laugh. That was Cheyenne's laugh. Someone brushed by me. I forced myself to turn around. Once again, my vision blurred, but this time I was prepared for it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. And there she was. It was her. Picking her way down the hall of stoners with three other girls. Laughing. Her hair. Her smile. Her figure. Her chin beneath the pink sequined mask. She wore a gauzy white gown with a pink sash. Pink. Cheyenne's favorite color. Her hand was on another girl's back as they navigated along. In two seconds they'd be gone.

I forgot about Josh. I had to. For that moment he ceased to matter. I had to find out what the hell was going on. Was Cheyenne alive? Was I insane? Hallucinating? Hearing things? No. I couldn't be. She was right there. My head pounded. I couldn't think straight. But I had to know. I had to know for sure. "Wait! Cheyenne! Wait!" I shouted.

They didn't stop. Didn't look back. "No! Wait! Come back!" I followed after them. Tripped on someone's outstretched leg. Braced my hand against the guardrail. Her laughter floated back to me. Even as the hallway turned beneath my feet, I kept moving. "Cheyenne! Wait! Why are you doing this? Please, just stop!" Through the haze of smoke and sweat and heat, I saw Cheyenne hug one of her friends, then duck into one of the rooms down the hall. Perfect. She was alone. She couldn't get away now. Working on pure adrenaline, I shoved aside a pair of giggling girls, kneed some guy in a George W. mask in the balls when he tried to grab me, and lurched for the door.

My heart pounded in my throat as I slipped inside, turned, and closed the door. I waited for my brain to stop turning in my skull and took a breath. I was petrified to turn around. Irrational fears flooded my mind and brought out goose bumps all over my skin. Fears of vengeful spirits and specters and zombies and death. I was petrified to turn around. But I did. And the room was empty.

* * *

I really was losing my mind. There were no other doors at this end of the hallway. I could have sworn she had come through here. And yet... nothing. That was when I really started to cry. I groped my way to the queen- size bed in the center of the room, convulsing, clutching my stomach, choking for air. I cried like I'd never cried for Cheyenne. Like I'd never

really cried for Thomas. Something even bigger had died tonight. My heart. My love. My future. Selfish, I know, but true. And when I realized this, I curled into a ball and cried some more, now thinking of those people I had lost. Thinking of the total uselessness of their deaths. Thinking of how I'd have given anything to have them back.

For the past few weeks I had distracted myself with tasks. With the presidency, with the Legacy, even with school and Dash. But there was nothing here to distract me now. Nothing but this empty room. And the weight of it all pressing down on me. I don't know how long I stayed like that, curled up on the deep red comforter, tearing and snotting all over some stranger's bed. But after awhile, the sobs subsided. I realized I was exhausted. All I wanted was a tissue, some aspirin, and to curl up here and wait for morning. Pushing myself up, I glanced around for the first time. There was a cabinet next to the bed with a lamp and several issues of Paper and Nylon stacked on top. No tissues. I crouched down and opened the doors, and out slid three photo albums, one of which fell open at my feet.

My heart seized up. There, right in the center of the page, was a glossy five-by-seven photo of Ivy Slade and Cheyenne Martin. They were young. Maybe thirteen. Cheyenne had braces. Ivy, glasses. They were both beautiful. Adorable and fresh-faced and grinning. Their arms were flung around each other's shoulders and each held a tennis racket in her free hand. A handwritten caption underneath read, "Cheyenne and Ivy, Doubles Champs!"

My throat was so dry I started to cough. Dropping back on my butt, I looked around the room. The wall directly across from me was a collage. The entire wall was covered with words and images. Some clipped from magazines, some printed on photo paper, some on flimsy newsprint. They were partial images. Lips, but not faces. Petals, but not flowers. Wings, but not birds. Clouds, but not sky. Still, it wasn't the jarring disconnect of the images that made me stop cold. It was the word, painted in red script against the black wall in the center of the collage, that stopped me. The word IVY. This was Ivy's room. I was in Ivy's room. And Ivy had pictures of Cheyenne. My hand shaking, I turned the page. There were several, smaller photos on this one, but Cheyenne and Ivy were a major theme. I turned the pages. On every one, images of the two girls greeted me. Cheyenne older, no braces now, clinging to the bow of a boat. Ivy and Cheyenne, maybe fourteen or fifteen, trying out water skis. Ivy and Cheyenne in formal attire, full-body hugging with their legs kicked up in back. The two of them on horses, on the beach, standing in front of Bradwell.

"Me and Che at the Regatta" "Ivy + Cheyenne = BFFs" "Me and Che, first day at Easton!" Ivy and Cheyenne, Ivy and Cheyenne, Ivy and Cheyenne. This didn't make any sense. Cheyenne and Ivy hated each other. Cheyenne had all but spit when Rose and Portia had suggested we offer Ivy an invite to Billings. And Ivy detested all of us, but especially Cheyenne. She sneered whenever the girl's name was brought up. But now, suddenly, I was finding out they were BFFs? I slammed the album closed, shaking now with anger. More lies. Everything was lies. Everything was secrets. It was just like last year, when perfect Thomas had turned out to be a drug dealer, and sweet Ariana had turned out to be a lovesick murderer, and Natasha had been secretly dating Leanne Shore, and Taylor had disappeared in the middle of the night, with no explanation, never to return. This world was nothing but rewritten histories. It was all about what you could get away with. Who you could deceive. Had anyone been honest with me ever? Was it some kind of Easton law that people couldn't tell the truth? Was there a secret course being given in deception that I didn't know about?

Instantly, Josh's devastated face came back full force and I laughed ruefully. Way to be a hypocrite, Reed. I didn't need a course in deception. What the hell had I been doing since the beginning of the year? Flirting with Dash. Lying to Josh. Lying to Noelle. I was just as bad as the rest of them. Josh was right. I had become one of them. I shoved the books back into the cabinet and stood up. This was it. I was done. No more lies. I was going to find Noelle and tell her what had happened with Dash. I was going to tell her I had feelings for him, no matter how muddled and confused those feelings were. I was going to 'fess up and take whatever was coming to me. Noelle was going to go ballistic, I was sure, but at that moment I didn't care. I was sick of the lies. And I was going to do something about it.

THE GOOD NEWS

"Noelle! Noelle!" She was gabbing with some girl I'd never seen before. Tall and willowy, with red hair and a distinctly regal air. As I raced toward her, Noelle nearly spit out a mouthful of her green apple martini. "Reed! What happened to you? You look like shit," she said. The willowy girl flicked her eyes over me like I'd just rolled in off one of the fishing boats in the harbor. She quickly, silently moved away. "I know," I said, trying to ignore the warning siren going off in my head. The siren screaming at me that this was a bad plan. A bad idea. That if I told the truth I was a dead woman. But it didn't matter. I didn't matter. All that mattered was the truth. "Listen, I have to talk to you. Like, now." I gripped both her arms and pulled her toward the wall.