The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind of phone calls from florists and caterers and drivers and alumni. There was some insan-
ity when we discovered that London and Vienna had taken it upon themselves to run with the models - as - moving- art idea and had
each hired twenty guys--and no girls--by luring them into working for free with the promise of the amazing contacts they could make.
Luckily we managed to fix the problem in time and hire twenty girls. Somehow in there I managed to write a paper for Spanish and
ace a history test. Apparently, I was a good multitasker.
The best part of the whole week was that the stalking had stopped. Maybe Ivy had gotten bored or busy or scared after her trip to
the police station, but whatever the reason, the whole week passed without another incident. On Wednesday, I went to the administra-
tion office and changed my e-mail address for the second time, promising myself that I would give this one only to teachers and fam-
ily. My friends could text my phone if they wanted to--I didn't care. All that mattered to me was never seeing Cheyenne's name in my
in-box again. As for Dash's e-mail, it was just going to have to go unread. And so what? He was Noelle's boyfriend now. If she was
going to try to change for me, the least I could do was quit her man cold turkey.
By the time Saturday morning rolled around and we were all piling our luggage and makeup cases and garment bags outside the
front door of Billings for our chauffeurs to take to the cars, I was feeling pretty damn good about myself and about the house. I gath-
ered everyone into the foyer, climbed to the third step of the staircase, and shouted for everyone's attention. They fell silent instantly.
Fifteen pairs of interested eyes looked up at me, riveted. This was power.
"I just wanted to thank everyone for all your hard work these past couple of weeks," I announced, gripping the banister. I lifted my
blue folder, which contained the guest list and all the spreadsheets breaking down received donations and pledged donations. "And al-
though my father always says, 'Never count a chicken before it's hatched,' I think it's safe to say that with all the money we've already
made, and all the money we stand to make at Tassos's silent auction tonight, we will more than reach our goal." Everyone cheered and
hugged and congratulated one another. I watched it all from my perch, feeling like I'd really done it. I'd saved our home. This was all
because of me. As I watched my friends giddily trail out the door to head for our waiting limousines, I even had a stray thought of
Cheyenne and how proud she would be. I felt warmed by the idea.
"Reed! Reed!" Rose jogged back inside with a vase full of white roses. "These were just delivered for you!" Vienna, London, Rose,
and Noelle all gathered around while I read the card.
"They're from Marc," I said happily. "He says good luck and he'll see me tonight." "I think we underestimated Scholarship Boy,"
London said, earning a pointed glare from Noelle. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that my friends kept forgetting that I was on
scholarship? "White roses. A smart choice," Vienna mused. "Red would be too pushy, pink would be too babyish, but white... white
is..." "Elegant. Refined," Noelle said, taking the vase from my hands and placing it in the center of the mantel. "The kid's good." I
smiled, glad they were coming around. Even if I didn't intend to seriously date the guy, it was nice to know my friends had some
depth. "We should get out of here. We have to beat the traffic," I said, hustling the stragglers out. Everyone rushed ahead into the cold