"Perfect," Gage said with a snort. "You can wear your blue collar." Cheyenne laughed, then covered it up quickly with a cough. I chose to ignore them and glanced at Sabine. Comments like that one had to kill her crush. But she kept stealing adoring glances in his direction. Perhaps there was a translation issue here? I sighed and moved on. "You should do it too, so we can hang," I told Josh, squeezing his arm. "Actually, we already signed up for the food committee," Josh said, gripping either end of his pencil with both hands as if he would break it. "We?" I asked. I had this horrible acidic sensation in my gut.
"Yeah, sorry. I totally bogarted your boy," Cheyenne said, brushing Josh's other arm with her fingertips. Would it be wrong to systematically break every last one of them off? I looked at Sabine. She was pretending to concentrate on her reading, but she widene
d her eyes. She knew exactly what was going on. "Food committee?" I said to Josh, hoping I didn't sound as shrill to him as I did to me. "Why?" He shrugged. "We were all talking about it in Lit class, and we just thought it would be cool to all do something as a group." "We all?" I asked. "The seniors," Cheyenne said in a superior tone. Like it was just so obvious that they were part of something I was not. "It's our last year. We want to spend as much time as we can together." "Basically," Josh said. "Oh." I supposed that made sense. But why hadn't it occurred to him that it might be cool to do something with me? That it would also be our last year together?
"Better get used to it, Reed. There are a lot of senior events," Cheyenne said as she jotted a few notes. "But don't worry about Josh. I'll make sure he doesn't get lonely." Josh glanced at her, and they both laughed. I felt a flash of anger and jealousy so hot, it could have incinerated the library and everyone in it. "I'll do waitstaff with you guys," Trey offered. "Yeah?" I said. "Yeah. I, for one, have no desire to participate in senior events," he said, glancing derisively at Cheyenne. A look that did not go unnoticed by her. "I'll sign up tomorrow." "Cool." !"Well that's just fine, Trey," Cheyenne said pertly. "I already have plenty of help." Her proprietary look at Josh curled my toes. I had to say something. Anything. But what could I say without looking like the psychotically paranoid and jealous girlfriend? How was it that no matter what, Cheyenne always seemed to get the last word?
THE PRESENTATION
I sat in the parlor on the settee on Saturday night, wedged in between Rose and Portia, who could not stop adjusting her hair and elbowing me in the process. Lined up in front of the fireplace were five of our six new Billings residents--or prospective Billings residents, as Cheyenne kept calling them, even though they already did live here--and each had an item on the floor next to her, covered in a sheet or hidden inside a bag. Constance chewed on her lip and eyed me excitedly. I couldn't muster much more than a smile in return. I was too worried about Sabine, who was conspicuously missing.
"Where is she?" Rose asked, sounding nervous. "I have no idea," I replied. She had told me several times over the past twenty-four hours that she had this task thing covered, though how, I had no idea. Maybe she had simply decided to bail. Maybe she, like Josh, thought this wasn't worth the effort. "Well, we said seventy-two hours and it's been seventy-two hours and two minutes," Cheyenne said. "I'd say it's time to begin." Right then the front door slammed and in ran Sabine, breathless. She held a large black scroll in one hand.
"Is it over?" she asked. Gasped, really. "Did I miss it?" Everyone looked at Cheyenne. Cheyenne's already straight posture somehow straightened even further. She was enjoying her position of power. "Don't let it happen again," she said coolly. Breathing a relieved sigh, Sabine went to take her place at the end of the line next to Astrid, but Cheyenne stopped her. "No, no. You stand here," she said, placing Sabine between Kiki and Constance. What was that about? I glanced at Rose, who shrugged. Just Cheyenne being power-hungry Cheyenne. Now that everyone was in place, Tiffany snapped a picture of the whole nervous group. "Let's begin," our leader said, stepping to the top of the line. "Lorna? What have you brought for us?" Lorna swallowed hard and looked at Missy, who pursed her lips to urge her on. With a quick throat clearing, she reached into her Neiman Marcus bag and pulled out a small gold placard, bent on one side and scratched up a bit. It read:
DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT ROBERTSON CLASS OF 1935
A few of the girls around me snickered. Tiffany's camera flashed. "You stole Big Bubba's plaque?" Cheyenne asked flatly. "It's a part of Easton history." Lorna's voice was barely a squeak. Big Bubba was this monstrous oak tree outside the chapel that had been dedicated to the memory of some late Easton student named Robert Robertson. Lorna had stolen the evidence of that dedication. Cheyenne sniffed. "Well. We're off to an inauspicious start."Lorna paled as she placed the plaque back in her bag. Her chin quivered, but she managed not to cry. Suddenly, and much to my surprise, I felt sorry for her. Lorna had never been much more than Missy's lackey, really. And maybe her presentation wasn't all that impressive, but at least she'd tried.
"Missy. Let's see if you can do better," Cheyenne said, stepping up to Nostril Girl. "Oh, I can," Missy said simply. Nice. Way to stick up for your supposed best friend. She reached into her own bag and pulled out a small leather-bound book. Instantly my jaw dropped. Rose lifted up from her seat to see better. "Is that the--" "The original Easton Academy handbook." Cheyenne was obviously impressed. And well she should be. The original handbook was kept hermetically sealed in a glass case in the center lobby of the Easton Library, locked up tight. "How very black ops of you, Miss," Portia said. "I know people," Missy replied, pleased with herself. Next to her, Lorna turned green.
"Well. The bar has been set a bit higher." Cheyenne handed the book back to Missy. "Kiki?" she said. "You're next." Kiki popped her gum, turned around, and picked up a heavy- looking object from the floor. She placed it on the table and removed the blue sheet she had covering it. Every person in the room gasped. It was a small gray, square stone with the date 1858 etched into it, the numbers so worn, they were barely visible. It was the cornerstone from Gwendolyn Hall, the original Easton Academy class building. "Kiki. What did you do?" I blurted. "It was no big deal," she said, lifting her shoulders and popping her gum. "All I needed was a crowbar. It just popped right out. Building's crumbling anyway." "I like this girl," Tiffany said, snapping off a few shots.
"Tiff, maybe you should put that away," Cheyenne said, holding up a hand. For the first time, Cheyenne looked to be rethinking the sagacity of this little test. Everyone was now eyeing Kiki with a mixture of respect and fear. She stepped back into line and blew a bubble. "Good point," Tiffany said. She held the camera behind her back. "Ooookay," Cheyenne said. "Sabine? Not really sure how you're going to top that." Lifting her chin, Sabine unfurled the scroll and held it up. It was one of the black banners that usually hung between the stained glass windows in the chapel. Embroidered onto it was the year 1984 and the names Susan Llewelyn and Gaylord Whittaker. I couldn't imagine how anyone could get one of those down without a ladder and some help. Impressive.
Cheyenne looked at it for a long moment. "What's this?" "It is the graduation banner from 1984, "Sabine said. "I researched Billings history and found out that Susan Llewelyn is one of our alumnae and she sits on the board of directors. She was the female valedictorian that year. So it's not only Easton history, but Billings history as well." Rose shot me a look like, Not bad. I couldn't have agreed more. "Who's Gaylord Whittaker?" I asked. "Is he related to--" "He's Whit's uncle," Constance blurted. "Everyone calls him Guy." Portia snorted a laugh and fluffed her hair, elbowing me in the cheek. "Ow," I protested. She shot me a look like I had inconvenienced her, and turned her knees away from me in a huff. "All right, moving on," Cheyenne said, stepping past Sabine.
My fingers curled into fists. That was it? No compliments, no nothing? Did Cheyenne not understand how difficult it would be to break into the chapel and get that thing down? Not to mention the research that had gone into it. And Sabine hadn't asked for my help once. If that wasn't Billings material, I don't know what was. "Constance?" Cheyenne said. Constance glanced at me before lifting the large Barneys shopping bag off the floor. She hadn't told me what Whittaker was sending her, wanting it to be a surprise. With a smile in my direction, she reached inside and made a yanking motion, but whatever was inside got stuck as she tried for her dramatic reveal. Cheyenne rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue, which only made Constance shakier. Finally, she simply tore the bag down the front and the contents were revealed. Hanging from a wooden hanger was a dark blue jacket with the Easton crest on the pocket, a blue-and-yellow-striped tie, and an ancient blue cap.
"Wow. Nice," Tiffany said from behind me. "That's one of the old Easton uniforms, right?" "From the early nineteen hundreds," Constance confirmed. Someone whistled, impressed. "Doesn't get much more historically significant than that," Rose said. Constance beamed. "Yeah
. And gee, I wonder how you got it." Cheyenne said, glaring Constance down. Constance backed up a step as if there were actual heat coming off Cheyenne's face. "Problem?" I said. "I thought I made it clear that they weren't supposed to have any help," Cheyenne replied, glancing at me. "Did you get this somewhere on campus?" she demanded of Constance. Don't answer that. Plead the fifth.
"N-no," Constance said."So where did you get it?" Cheyenne asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "From your little boyfriend?" "Cheyenne," I said in a warning tone. "Whit isn't exactly little," London joked. Constance's face burned. "Leave her alone," I said firmly. "To be fair, Cheyenne, you never actually said they had to steal something. Just that you wanted them to bring back a piece of Easton," Rose pointed out. "They just assumed stealing would have to be involved." As always Rose was there with a very good point. Constance appeared to be buoyed by the backup. She gripped the hanger, her chin lifted. Cheyenne narrowed her eyes at Rose and her nostrils flared. "That doesn't change the fact that she took the easy way out. And I'm sure her fellow neophytes don't appreciate it."
Actually, none of them had seemed to care until Cheyenne mentioned that they should. Then Missy and Lorna both sniffed in Constance's direction, annoyed. Kiki, however, was eyeing the old Easton cap, probably trying to figure out if she could snag it for herself, and Sabine just looked sympathetic. Finally, Cheyenne turned and faced Astrid. "And last, but certainly not least?" Astrid looked around at all of us, hesitating. Nervous? Then she ducked her chin and crouched to the floor. She lifted up an obviously heavy and awkward object, wrapped in a thick blanket, then placed it on the floor in the center of the room. The girls behind me stood so that they could see. Astrid lifted the blanket and stepped back. Underneath it was an old tarnished copper bell. The kind they used on Little House on the Prairie to signal everyone into school.
"OMG," Portia said dramatically. "How did you get it?" Tiffany asked. "Now that is what I was looking for," Cheyenne said proudly. Astrid's eyes were trained on the floor. "There's no way," London said, crouching down to see it better. "This can't be the one. It has to be a knockoff." "A knockoff of a school bell?" Tiffany blurted. "Uh, you guys?" I said. "What is it?" "It's the Old Bell," Cheyenne said with a smile. "It hung in the tower in Gwendolyn Hall from 1838 until 1965 when they realized how badly its supports had rotted and they removed it. Ever since, it's sat in the center of the table in the board of directors' chamber." Trust traditionalist Cheyenne to know every word of the official Easton Academy history.
I looked at Astrid in amazement. I didn't even know where the board of directors' chamber was. How did she know about the bell? How had she gotten in and sneaked out of there with something so huge? "Damn, girl," London said with a smile. "You have got guts." "How did you do it?" Tiffany asked. "Your arms must be dying." The room was suddenly all chatter as everyone gathered around to congratulate Astrid and admire the bell. "How did you even know about this thing?" I asked. After all, I had never heard of it before. "I... well, I... read about it," Astrid said, her face coloring as she glanced at Cheyenne.
Instantly, the truth hit me like an anvil to the head. Cheyenne had helped her. That was what the whispered conference at the chapel had been about. That was why Cheyenne had made sure Astrid was presenting last. Because she knew the bell would make an impressive finale. Here she was getting on Constance's case for seeking help, and she'd guided Astrid right through this thing. I looked at Cheyenne, and she glanced back, snagged. As I opened my mouth to say something, she clapped her hands for attention. "Well, well, well. I have to say I'm impressed with some of you," Cheyenne announced as the noise died down. I wanted to say something right then. I did. But I didn't want to embarrass Astrid, whom I actually liked, and whose head was hanging so low right now, she could probably smell her own feet. So I bit my tongue. "Astrid, Missy, Kiki, good job. You really went above and beyond to impress us. Thank you for that. The rest of you . . ." Cheyenne looked around at Lorna, Constance, and Sabine. "I don't even know what to say. Except nice try."
Constance shrank back toward the wall. Sabine's jaw set. Lorna hugged herself tightly with both arms. I knew it right then. Knew that Cheyenne had decided long before she ever even devised this test, that three people were going to pass and three people were going to fail. Astrid was her friend whose family had taken tea with Prince William on more than one occasion. Missy was a legacy. Kiki was one of the smartest girls in the junior class and the ridiculously wealthy daughter of a computer magnate. They were all perfectly acceptable Billings material. But Lorna was unattractive and a doormat, Constance was sweet and unassuming, and Sabine was, well, my friend. I couldn't think of any other reason why she would be deemed unacceptable. Unless it was just that she was unmaterialistic and kind.
"Cheyenne, come on," I said. She completely ignored me. " Everyone has their place in the world, girls. I think you three should really start thinking about whether or not you want to keep trying to fit in somewhere you obviously don't belong." Constance looked at me with shining eyes. I wanted to tear Cheyenne's heart out just to show her how she was making these girls feel. "Tonight you all need to go out and return these things to where they came from," Cheyenne said. "What?" Astrid blurted. "I thought you wanted them to spruce up the house," Sabine added. "Like we can really spruce the house with stolen objects. What kind of idiot do you think I am?" Cheyenne scoffed. "They're going to come looking for these things, and they cannot be found here. I expect each and every one of them to be back where they belong before dawn. Of course for some people, that just means calling the FedEx man," she said, giving Constance a scathing look. "Good luck!" she trilled. London, Vienna, Portia, and some of the others laughed at the newbies' dumbfounded expressions as they trailed Cheyenne out of the room. Constance turned toward the wall to hide her tears while Lorna ran out the front door. I had never liked that girl, but in that moment I felt for her. For all of them. Even the ones who had won Cheyenne's approval. Now they were faced with sneaking out again. With breaking and entering again. And in Lorna and Kiki's cases, with replacing things that may have already been damaged beyond repair. I had never wanted to strangle anyone more than I wanted to strangle Cheyenne at that moment. And with my history, that's really saying something.
* * *
I awoke in the dead of the night when a hand covered my mouth. My heart left my body and I tried to scream, but all that came out was a backof-the-throat groan. A flashlight flicked on, illuminating Tiffany's face. I stopped struggling. Looked at her, confused. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and silky pajama pants. She lifted a finger to her lips and pointed at Sabine's bed. I glanced over. Sabine was dead asleep. "Let's go," Tiffany whispered, releasing me. "Where?" I rasped. She tilted her head. Rose and Portia stood at the door. Portia in a floor-length green silk robe, Rose in a pair of DKNY baby doll pajamas. Each held a flickering candle. Color me intrigued. I got up, shoved my feet into my slippers, and walked into the hallway. Tiffany closed the door silently behind us. Portia thrust a candle into my hand and lit it, then handed another to Tiffany. I could hear footsteps downstairs. Murmured voices.
"What's going on?" I asked. "It's the vote," Rose told me. The vote? We were really going through with this charade? Really acting like we had any control over who lived here and who didn't? And why the hell didn't I know about it? You guys!" someone whispered up the stairs. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Let's go!" We tiptoed in a line down the staircase and into the foyer. I expected to follow my friends into the parlor, but they turned left instead, away from the darkened gathering space. Toward the back door that had been locked and sealed up for as long as I'd lived there. "Where are we going?" I whispered.
No one answered. Portia turned another corner, taking us behind the stairs, and I finally understood. The basement. For the first time since I'd lived in Billings, the basement door was open. "We're going to the boiler room?" I asked. That was, after all, the only thing that was down there. Or so I'd been told. Someone giggled. Portia shot me a You're a moron look over her shoulder and started down the creaky steps, holding her hand behind her candle flame. As I reached the top of the stairs, I could see a half dozen coiffed heads of hair descending before me, the ancient brick walls illuminated by the thin candlelight. There was no telling what lay at the bottom.
Irrationally, my heart started to pound with fear. Or maybe not so irrationally, considering the things I'd been through at the hands of the Billings Girls in the past. "What's down there?" I whispered over my shoulder to Rose. "The dungeon," she whispered in my ear. Joking. But it didn't make me feel better. Portia was already five steps ahead of me, her robe billowing up behind her as she descended the stairs. Tiff and Rose were waiting behind. It was move now, or move never. I moved.
My knees quaked as I navigated the unfamiliar and uneven stairs. Instantly, the air turned thirty degrees colder. I shivered in my nightshirt, and my candle flame went horizontal. I quickly shielded it as Portia had, and held my breath. At the bottom of the stairs was a huge slatted wooden door. Open. Beyond that, pitch black. My housemates had formed a circle in the center of what felt like a small frigid chamber. I stubbed my toe on something hard and cursed under my breath. Foot throbbing, I hobbled inside and took my place next to Portia. Directly across from me in the circle were Vienna, London, and Cheyenne. As soon as we were all inside, Tiffany closed the huge door with a creak.