“Here! This color would look amazing on you, Reed,” Taylor said, holding up a silky red dress.
“Take the suede jacket. Every girl needs a little suede,” Ariana said, handing over a box.
“We'll make a fashionista out of you yet,” Kiran told me, offering a champagne flute.
“Wow. This is incredible, Kiran. Thanks,” I said.
“Well,” she said, stepping in front of me and looking me in the eye. “What are friends for?”
My insides squeezed with guilt and I took a slug of the champagne. Friends, huh? What would she think if she knew that a few minutes ago I had been considering pawing through her stuff? And Noelle's and Ariana's and Taylor's? Would she still call me a friend then? Not likely.
71
I shook my head and tried to clear the negativity. I hadn't done it. I hadn't betrayed them. Not yet anyway. But for the first time, as I looked around at their eager, happy faces, I suddenly realized what I had to lose if I went through with Natasha's plan. It was this. If I went through with it, these girls would all be gone from this place, gone from my life.
I had this to lose.
72
PERFECT GENTLEMAN
All throughout my morning classes, I was in a daze. If my art teacher had called on me during her lecture about French Impressionism, I probably would have muttered an answer like, “The ratio of the height to the hypotenuse.” I had no idea where I was.
To spy or not to spy? That was the question. And when that wasn't the question, there was always that other infinitesimal issue: When were the police going to come get me? And when they did, was I or was I not going to tell them about Thomas's note?
I had a few more pressing things on my mind than whether or not Claude Monet could be considered a revolutionary.
When I was finally released from my fourth class of the day, I was the first one out the door. I practically jogged down the hallway, in desperate need of oxygen. I had to clear my head. I had to go somewhere and think. I had no idea what any of my teachers had said all morning long. If I didn't figure all this out soon, Natasha's blackmail would be a moot point. I would flunk out before she could get me expelled.
73
As I shoved open the door of the classroom building and emerged into the sun, I took a nice deep breath of the crisp autumn air. This was what I needed. I would stroll at a leisurely pace across campus to the cafeteria. I would take a second to breathe and regroup. A few minutes of alone time were just what the shrink ordered.
“Hello, Reed.”
Walt Whittaker was leaning up against the stone pillar at the bottom of the stairs. Instantly Natasha's nasty slide show replayed itself in my brain. Lips, hands, tongues. Ugh. Apparently he had finally decided it was time to talk to me. The boy officially had my nomination for the Worst Timing Award.
“Hi,” I said, walking right by him.
As always, a few gossiping girls were watching me and I was hoping he would be embarrassed in front of them and take the hint. I physically shuddered as I passed him. What should have been a quickly forgotten, detail-?fuzzy hookup had now turned into a messy encounter that was permanently burned into my brain.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
With his long legs, he had caught up to me in two simple strides.
I took a deep breath and let it out audibly. Okay. This was not his fault. He wasn't the one blackmailing me. As far as I knew he didn't even have a clue that those pictures existed. And it wasn't as if I could avoid the guy forever. Might as well get this over with, I thought. At least it would be one less thing to think about. I stepped off the cobbled path and under the shade of a golden maple.
74
I tried not to cringe when I looked at him.
“How are you?” Whittaker asked me, his brown eyes full of concern.
“Fine,” I told him. “You?”
“I'm well. Thank you for asking. Listen, about the other night,” he began, causing my insides to squirm. “I wanted to apologize. I was a tad over my limit and I think you may have been as well.” He looked at me for confirmation.
“A tad.”