Vengeance (Private 14)

“Sonofa—”

I leaned over my desk and booted up my computer. The Billings Construction folder was gone from the desktop. I checked the trash. Wiped out. I hadn’t had time to back up the files before I went out this morning, which meant they were just gone. Carolina had some of the information, obviously, and I had everyone’s numbers and e-mails stored in my phone, but all my notes were in that folder. All my ideas and whims and reminders. All of it had been deleted.

“No,” I said under my breath, lowering myself onto the edge of my bed. “No, no, no.”

I drew my knees up under my chin and clung to my shins. Suddenly all the old horrifying feelings came rushing back over me. All the dread and fear and sense of violation I’d felt back when Sabine stalked me last semester. That feeling that nothing was sacred, that nothing was safe, that nothing was mine. Someone had been in my room. Someone had rifled through my things. Someone had walked around this very space—my space—like they were entitled to it.

My heart clenched over and over and over until it felt like it couldn’t take it anymore. What else had they done? What else had they taken? What else had they tarnished?

And how had MT known they were here?

Someone passed by the open door of my room and I nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was only Josh. He did a double take, like he was surprised to find me here. My hands clutched the bedspread at my sides as I waited for my pulse to come back from its sprint.

Josh paused and looked down the hall, in the direction from which he’d come. My eyes narrowed automatically as he braced both hands against either side of the doorway and leaned his whole body forward into the room.

“Um, hey,” he said.

Um, hey?

“Hi.” I uncurled my legs and placed my feet carefully on the floor. Part of me didn’t want him to notice my terrified body language—didn’t want him to worry—but part of me was also wondering . . . how could he not notice it? Why hadn’t he immediately asked me what was wrong?

Finally he stepped into the room. “What’s up?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looking around the room. Looking everywhere but at me.

My heart gave an extra-hard thump. He was acting really weird. He didn’t . . . he couldn’t . . . there was no way he had something to do with the missing stuff, was there? He wouldn’t try to sabotage Billings. Not when he knew how much it meant to me. Not when he knew how Sabine had tortured me last fall by infiltrating my room. But then why was he so blatantly keeping his distance from me?

“Nothing,” I said flatly.

“So did you have fun with Noelle and them?” he asked, looking me in the eye for the first time.

“Yeah. It was great,” I said. I tried to infuse my words with enthusiasm. “She was so excited when she saw Kiran and Taylor. It was awesome.”

Josh smiled and suddenly, just like that, he was Josh again. He sat down next to me and knocked my shoulder with his. “Told ya so.”

My heart relaxed slightly. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that everyone hates a guy who says ‘I told you so’?”

“Oh, right.” He reached for my hand and held it. “I think I have heard that somewhere.”

I looked down at our fingers, at the sparkling aquamarine promise ring Josh had given me for my birthday, and suddenly felt like a colossal jerk for suspecting him. Josh may have hated Billings in the past, but he would never do anything to hurt me. Someone else had to be behind all this.

Which, of course, made me feel gross and violated and paranoid all over again. I opened my mouth to tell Josh about MT and the thefts, but my throat closed over the words. I didn’t want

to stress him out and make him worry. And maybe just the teeniest, tiniest bit of me didn’t want to see how he’d react, just in case he wasn’t surprised.

I was going to tell him eventually. I would. I just had to sort out a few things first for myself.

“I’m glad it all worked out,” Josh said, giving my hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” I said distractedly, my eyes scanning the room for more items out of place, trying to discern if anything else might be missing. “Yeah, me too.”

CUTTING THE RIBBON

“And now I’d like to introduce the driving force behind this entire project,” Carolina said into the microphone, leaning toward the podium. “Miss Reed Brennan.”

She threw out her arm in my direction and I stood up shakily from my chair on the stage. The crowd clapped and cheered and I gave them the widest smile I could manage, considering how nervous I was. The sun was blinding, but I could still make out the surprisingly large crowd gathered at the base of the five-foot-high stage. Not only were there dozens of older Billings alumnae represented, but some of my more recently graduated friends were there too. Natasha Crenshaw, my former roommate, stood at the front of the pack with Walt Whittaker and Dash McCafferty, who held hands with Noelle in the sun. Josh stood next to Noelle, along with Ivy and Tiffany, whose camera was at the ready. Several reporters, some with microphones and cameras, others with tape recorders or notepads, were focused on me. Behind me on the stage, all the members of the Billings Board of Directors were seated in their chairs, waiting to hear my speech. I glanced down at Headmaster Hathaway as I passed him by and was almost surprised he didn’t shoot out a leg to trip me.

“Thank you, everyone, for that amazing welcome, and thanks for simply being here. Before I get started I’d like to thank Headmaster Hathaway and the Board of Directors for granting me the distinct honor of rebuilding Billings House.” I looked over at the board, each member more distinguished-looking and proud than the last. “I wouldn’t be here without your support.”

Taking a deep breath, I faced the crowd. I had prepared a short speech, which I had practiced for anyone who would listen, and I had thought I was ready for this, but at that moment my head felt somehow heavy and light all at once. A slight breeze tickled the back of my neck and sent a foreboding skitter down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder quickly, feeling as if someone was watching me from behind. Across the yawning hole of the foundation, Larry Genovese stood with a dozen other workers, all clad in safety vests and hard hats, ready for their cue. As I scanned their faces, I saw a shock of blond hair as someone in a dark jacket ducked behind one of the trailers. My breath caught, but the creeper didn’t appear again, and I was left wondering if I’d imagined it.