I had never thought until that moment that I was claustrophobic. Turned out maybe I was. I could feel my pulse in every inch of my body. There was an incessant dripping somewhere nearby. Behind me, some sort of box or chair pressed into the back of my calf. I couldn't tell what it was. The darkness was so thick, I couldn't see my feet. "Welcome, sisters of Billings, to the inner circle," Cheyenne said with pride. My heart skipped an excited beat. "Many years ago, our sister
s established this tradition, this ritual for the all-important selection of the members of Billings House. Tonight, we continue that tradition," Cheyenne said, her eyes agleam. "Ladies, take your seats."
Everyone around me dropped down. I hesitated a moment--not knowing what was behind me--then did the same. My butt hit the arm of a chair before sliding into a hard seat. I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain. Cheyenne stepped forward in a beautiful white nightgown, trimmed with intricate scalloping. Her candle illuminated an old-fashioned silver lantern on a table in the center of the circle. Once it was lit, I could see everything in the dim light. All ten faces. All ten chairs. Six easels set up along the wall, each with a black lacquer bowl in front of them. Each with a photo of one of the new girls sitting above. There were shallow bowls dug out of the arms of my chair. In the right bowl, six black marbles. In the left, six white. There was a silver candle holder just behind the bowl on the right side. I followed Portia's lead and placed my candle in it.
"I will call each of your names in turn," Cheyenne said. "When I call your name, please rise from your seat, and place one marble before each of our prospective sisters. Place white if you wish to accept, black if you wish to deny. We'll begin with Portia Ahronian. Portia, please step forward." I watched her closely from the corner of my eye. She selected three white balls, three black. Shocker. I wonder where those were all headed. Slowly she walked along the line of photos, as if considering carefully. When she was done depositing her votes, she walked back to her chair and sat. "Thank you, Portia," Cheyenne said. "Reed Brennan?"
Alphabetical, huh? For once, I didn't come in last. I grabbed all my white marbles with a scrape of fingernails against wood, just in case anyone doubted my intentions. It took two seconds to drop them in the bowls, even with my brief hesitation before Missy's picture. I was not going to discriminate, even against her. I was making a point here. Everyone deserved a chance. I looked Cheyenne in the eye as I walked by her, defiant. She rolled her eyes in return. The vote went quickly. Everyone, it seemed, had made their decisions before ever entering this room. When it was over, Cheyenne stepped forward and lifted Astrid's bowl. She dumped the marbles out onto the black cloth under the lantern. Ten white balls. "Astrid Chou has been voted in unanimously." There were pleased smiles all around. Cheyenne moved to Kiki's bowl. There was one black ball. The rest, white. "Kiki Rosen has been voted in," Cheyenne announced. Constance's bowl was next. I held my breath. It took me a moment to count, then count again. Cheyenne sucked in air through her teeth. "Ooh. Close. Six to four. But Constance Talbot has been denied," she said. I gripped the arms of my chair. I was not going to freak out. At least not until this archaic bull was over. Lorna's marbles were dumped.
"Lorna Gross . .. denied." "Missy Thurber has been voted in unanimously." Shocker. And then, Sabine. The marbles were dumped. There were five white balls, five black. "Atie! How exciting," Cheyenne said. "What happens in a tie?" Rose asked. "In a tie the most senior member of Billings gets a second vote," Tiffany told her. "That would be me," Cheyenne said happily. I stood up. "Wait a minute. How are you the most senior member? I count nine seniors in this room." "Not senior in school, Reed. Senior in pri," Portia explained flatly. "Cheyenne has pri above everyone else because she's the long leg." "Long leg?" I asked. "Longest legacy. My mother, my grandmother, and my aunt were all in Billings," Cheyenne explained with a sniff. "No one else in this room can claim more than two family members."
I don't believe this. I do not believe this. "And, although it's difficult for me to assume this burden," she continued, all martyr-like, "I'm going to have to say . . ." She turned around and selected a marble from her chair, her perfect blond hair shimmering in the candlelight. She looked right at me with a triumphant smirk as she dropped it among the others. "Deny." "You are nothing but a power-hungry bitch," I told her, crossing my arms over my chest. "Reed!" London gasped. "This is a sacred space, Reed. You'd better watch what you say," Cheyenne told me. "Sacred? Are you kidding me? All of you just voted on these girls based on one stupid task that Cheyenne pulled out of her ass! And which, by the way, she actually helped Astrid pass. Did you all know that?" "Excuse me?" Cheyenne asked, hand to chest. "Don't act all innocent. You were such a bitch to Constance about Whittaker, when we both know you told Astrid all about the bell. I wouldn't be surprised if you even used your connections to get her a key to the boardroom," I told her. "Admit it. You already chose who was getting in before any of us had the chance to vote." "Is that true, Cheyenne?" Rose asked. "Of course not," she snapped, eyes on me. "Which is why she has no proof."
"I don't care if anyone else believes it. I know it's true," I said. "It was one totally fixed test." I looked around at the group. "Is that really how you want to choose who you're going to live with for the rest of the year?" "You just don't get it, Reed. This isn't just about who we're going to live with, it's about who is going to represent us to the world at large," Cheyenne explained condescendingly. "If we want to keep attracting the right people, we have to have the right people in the house at all times. Lorna, Sabine, Constance? They're just not the right people." "In your opinion," I told her. "In the opinion of the house, it seems," she pointed out. I clenched my teeth. "Fine. So you've voted out three people. What are you going to do now? The headmaster has placed them here, Cheyenne. This is nothing but a sham anyway."
"I told you, Reed. There's always something you can do. In this case, no, we can't throw them out of here. But we can make them want to leave," she said. "What?" I blurted. "If the three of them decide to bail on their own, then who is the headmaster to stop them? Easton students can request dorm transfers at any time. It's just one of the many privileges our parents pay so dearly for. Well, our parents, anyway," she added with a condescending smile. Very mature. Picking on the scholarship girl. My pulse roared in my ears. No one was contradicting her. No one was telling her how insane this plan was. "So you're going to torture them until they beg to be placed elsewhere," I said, ignoring her personal insult.
"I wouldn't put it in such cruel terms but, basically, yes," she said with a shrug. "I won't let you do this to them," I said, facing off with her. Cheyenne chuckled under her breath. "And you're going to stop me how?" "With my help," Tiffany said, standing up behind me. Thank God some people around here still had some heart. "And mine," Rose added, with a bit less gusto. My heart felt all warm inside my frigid body. "Thanks a lot, Rose," Cheyenne said. "I just want everyone to get along, Cheyenne," Rose pleaded. "I mean, do we really need to create drama? Personally, I've had enough." Cheyenne shot Rose a betrayed look, but recovered quickly. She glanced at the other six members of the house. "Anyone else feel like defecting? Anyone else feel like being responsible for the integrity of Billings going down in flames?" No one moved. "Well, then, it seems the sides have officially been drawn." Cheyenne smiled slowly at us, like we were just so amusing. It was all I could do not to smack her in the face. "This should be fun."
PLAYING THE GAME
"I just don't understand how you got the banner down in the first place," I said to Sabine at breakfast the next day, trying to keep the conversation light. Trying not to think about what had gone down in the middle of the night. "You have to tell me how you did it."
"I had help." She toyed with her oatmeal and looked up at me guiltily. "From Gage." "Gage? Wait. He actually knows the meaning of the word help?" I blurted. "So that's why he missed study group," Josh said. "He's actually very nice. Once you get to know him," Sabine said earnestly. Both Josh and Trey cracked up. Sabine dropped her fork and shrank in on herself. "You guys," I scolded. "Sorry," Josh said. "It doesn't matter anyway," Sabine said, staring at her food glumly. "Those girls will never approve of me." "That's not true," I assured her. "Everyone likes you." Lie. "Cheyenne is just one person. She may seem all-powerful, but she's not." Not a lie. I've seen all-powerful, and it doesn't look like Cheyenne Martin.
"It didn't feel that way last night," Constance said, leaning her elbows on the table and slump
ing. "Not at all," Sabine added. I sat back in my chair at the usual Billings table, which still felt and probably always would feel like Noelle's chair, and blew out a frustrated sigh. These girls were never going to be able to stand up to whatever was coming next if they already felt so defeated by one little test. Next to me, Josh shifted in his seat, avoiding eye contact, most likely because he knew I didn't want to see the I told you so in his eyes. Beside him, Trey had decided to ignore the conversation and now concentrated on his bio book. Both Constance and Sabine looked exhausted after spending half the night sneaking stolen objects back into their proper places. I offered to help, but Sabine, Astrid, and Kiki had promised to assist one another and keep me out of it. Constance had gone along as well, swallowing her fear in the name of solidarity. Apparently all had gone well, since none of them had been expelled or arrested or anything. But I knew that every one of them was wondering what Cheyenne was plotting next.
They weren't the only ones. Cheyenne herself emerged from the lunch line, and the moment she saw us, she fixed her otherwise beautiful face into a sour expression. She strode over with Portia, London, and Vienna on her heels, and cleared her throat. "Cold coming on?" I asked her. "Hilarious," she said. "No, it's just that this is the Billings table. Only the most senior Billings residents can sit here." "Since when?" I asked. "Since always," she replied.
"I sat here last year and I was a sophomore," I pointed out, knowing that the recollection would sting. Last year Cheyenne had been at the next table, while Noelle and the others had invited me to sit here. "Yes, well, that was then. You can stay, but your little friends here are going to have to move," she said, flicking her eyes over Constance and Sabine like they were scuff marks on her new Manolos. "God, Cheyenne. When did you get so bitter?" Trey demanded. "No one's talking to you, Trey," she replied. "Ladies?" Constance and Sabine exchanged a glance and both got up. Trey got up with them, slamming his chair back so hard, it smacked into the table behind him. "No. You guys. You do not have to move," I told them. "It's fine," Constance mumbled, turning around.
She placed her tray on the next table over and yanked out a chair. Sabine took the one next to it, and Trey joined them. I looked at Josh. He no longer had any problem looking at me. He appeared to be sick to his stomach as Cheyenne took the seat next to him and the other girls filled in around us. "Astrid! Missy! Over here!" Cheyenne shouted loudly, lifting her arm. Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Astrid and Missy, oblivious to what was going on, came over and took the seats at the end of the table. Constance really looked like she might crumble. "Cheyenne, there's something I've been wanting to ask you," I said sweetly. "What's that, Reed?" she asked with false breeziness, playing the game as well as I. "Do you sleep okay at night or do the horns and the hooked tail get in your way?"
"Oh, Reed. You're so droll," she said, sipping her apple juice. "This is a free country. I can choose who I want to eat breakfast with." "Well, so can I," I replied, standing and lifting my tray. "Your prerogative," Cheyenne said with a shrug. Josh got up as well, but Cheyenne grabbed the arm of his frayed corduroy jacket. "You can stay if you want, you know," she said, blinking up at him with her big blue eyes. I was going to scratch those eyes out. Right here and now. Then Josh smirked and shrugged. "Where Reed goes, so go I." Cheyenne's face fell. I welled up with pride. I would have said so there if it wouldn't have been the most immature thing in the history of spoken language to say. But that didn't stop me from thinking it as I sank into a chair facing her, a perma-smirk on my lips. Josh reached out under the table, took my hand, and gave me a proud squeeze. So there.
CINDERELLA II
I heard the banging five seconds before my door was flung open. My heart instinctively flew to my throat, but this time, they weren't coming for me. They were coming for Sabine.
"Get up, get up, get up! Get up, get up, get up!" And this year, they had a chant. I flung my covers from my legs as Cheyenne, London, Vienna, and Portia barged into my room and over to Sabine's bed. London and Vienna banged pots with the handle side of hairbrushes. Portia had somehow procured a bullhorn. Sabine was already sitting up straight, her eyes wide with confusion, when Cheyenne yanked the girl's flimsy covers off and pulled her up by her wrists. She was wearing nothing but a tiny blue T-shirt and a pair of white underpants. Somehow, she looked very small.
"What is this?" she asked, looking at me over Cheyenne's shoulder. "You guys, is this really necessary?" I demanded. They all ignored me. Cheyenne lifted a red-and-white checkered apron over Sabine's head, then forcibly turned her around to tie it. Sabine's long thick hair was still tucked under the shoulder straps and down the back as they shoved her into the hallway.
"At least let her put on some pants!" I shouted.
They left the room without a word or a glance. I groaned and grabbed Sabine's jeans off her desk chair where she'd left them the night before. When I tore into the hallway, every one of my housemates was already gathered there, and our six new girls were lined up at the wall in their hideous multicolored aprons. Constance's face was dotted with zit cream. Astrid had a sleep line right down the center of her forehead. Missy looked like a football player, there was so much mascara black beneath her eyes. Kiki was asleep standing up. Lorna just looked scared. I walked over to Sabine and handed her the jeans, enduring sour looks from half my supposed friends. Sabine quickly shoved her legs into them and yanked them up. "All right, girls, this is where the fun begins!" Cheyenne announced. "This is where you prove to us how very much you want to live here. Astrid, Missy, Kiki, you three are on bed duty. Start with my room. And we're talking hospital corners and fluffed pillows, girls! If you cheat, we will know!"
Astrid shook Kiki until her eyes fully opened, and the three of them scurried off toward Cheyenne's room without a peep. Almost as if they had known this was coming. I looked at Rose, who returned my glance with one that said, I know. What can you do? Something. There had to be something. "The rest of you, bathrooms," Cheyenne said, losing even the false brightness. "We have Clorox and toothbrushes all ready for you. Get to work." "I'm sorry. We have to clean for you?" Sabine asked. "No, honey, I'm sorry--that you're so slow that you haven't figured it out yet," Cheyenne said, patting Sabine on the shoulder. She leaned forward so that the two of them were practically nose-to-nose. "You want to live here, you have to work for it. That's how it is."
Sabine shot me this betrayed look that made me want to tear my own hair out. "Cheyenne, we have a cleaning service," I said. "Just let them go back to bed." "Back off, Brennan," Cheyenne snapped. "This doesn't concern you." "Last I checked, I live here too," I replied. "And I don't see a point in making them scrub bathrooms when the school already pays some one to do it." "The point is, we all had to do it," Cheyenne said, stepping closer to me. "It's part of becoming an integral member of this house. It's called shared experience." "That is such a crock," I replied. "Yeah, we all had to do it, but we all hated it. What do you really get out of making more people miserable? "
Cheyenne's face was crimson. "Reed, if you don't like the way we do things, why don't you just--" Suddenly her mouth snapped shut and her eyes darted past my shoulder. "What is going on here?" Mrs. Lattimer demanded, striding in all clipped and proper. Our housemother was known for her ramrod posture, high collars, and imperious demeanor. Her gray hair was always back in a bun that only accentuated her sharp, birdlike features and beady eyes. "You all heard the headmaster. If you girls are conducting some sort of hazing, I will be forced to report it." We all closed like a wall in front of the three girls wearing the aprons. Cheyenne and I actually stood next to each other, temporarily united against a shared enemy.
"We're doing our chores, Mrs. Lattimer," Cheyenne said sweetly. "You know we have to get them done before class or this place just becomes a sty." Mrs. Lattimer eyed her shrewdly. She knew exactly what was going on. We all knew that she knew exactly what was going on. The question was, would Cheyenne's story be good enough for her to pass off to the headmaster if he somehow got wind of the charade? "Fine," she said finally, clutching the collar of her blouse to her neck. "Cleanliness is, after all, an important virtue in young ladies. I admire your ethic." "Thank you, Mrs. Lattimer," we chorused, playing our part.
"Well, get back to it, then," she said. Then she turned and walked down the stairs. We breathed a universal sigh of relief. But it didn't last long. Cheyenne turned to the girls again and barked. "Why are you still standing here? Get to work!" As the three of them rushed away, Cheyenne looked up at me and smiled. "Guess that's score one for me!" she sang. She walked off before I could formulate a response, but I resolved to be ready next time. Maybe Round One had gone to Butt Stick Girl. But she had better be ready for Round Two.