"Stop this!" I shouted. I stepped out of line and faced Cheyenne, shaking with barely restrained rage. "Reed. Get back in line," Cheyenne ordered. "You uncontrollable bitch," I said, my jaw clenched. "You can't do this to them." "Reed! You're disrupting an ages-old ritual!" Cheyenne lifted her hand to her chest, faking shock. "Screw your ritual!" I shouted. I blew out my candle and threw it at her feet, where it broke in two. "This is not how your precious founding sisters would want this place to be!" "Oh, please. Like you know anything about Billings and its history," Cheyenne spat. "My grandmother was in Billings. My mother. All her friends. And if they knew how you and our new headmaster were trying to corrupt it, they'd be appalled."
"I think they'd be appalled by you," I retorted. "That's it. I'm done playing nice with you," Cheyenne said, stepping up to me. "You don't belong here, Reed. No more than any of these losers do." "What?" I snapped. "You know it. We all know it. No one here voted you in. You were Ariana's pet project. She went overall our heads to get Leanne expelled and bring you in, but guess what? Ariana--psycho that she turned out to be--is gone now. And nobody wants you here." I stared at her, unable to find the words to cut through my fury. "You're wrong." "Am I?" She was. She had to be. And yet, no one was coming to my defense. I stared into Cheyenne's eyes defiantly, just willing someone, anyone, to stick up for me. No one did. Well, screw them. Sure, maybe they had all gone through all the hazing and ridiculous chores and tests, but I had nearly died to be here. Not another soul in that room could claim that. I was more of a Billings Girl than any of them.
"Uh, Reed?" Rose said. "Cheyenne?"
"What?" we both blurted. We turned to look at her, and our jaws dropped in unison. Suddenly I knew why not even my closest allies had spoken up. Standing at the open door were Headmaster Cromwell, his goon Mr. White, and our housemother Mrs. Lattimer, clutching at the high neck of her blouse. The headmaster looked around, taking in the candles, the black and white clothing, the discarded blindfolds, and set his face into a grim mask. "Well," he said finally. "This is very disappointing."
RINGLEADER
Headmaster Cromwell and I stared at each other across his wide desk. Afire crackled in the huge stone fireplace behind me, heating my back to the point of blistering. It was twenty past midnight. He and Mr. White had already grilled most of my Billings sisters. They had each passed me by in the outer waiting room, heads down, no eye contact. Not one of them had looked at me or Cheyenne, who was still on the other side of that thick wooden door. Waiting. If he was going to expel me, I wished he would just get it over with. The skin on my neck was going to be permanently disfigured at this point.
The headmaster shifted in his seat, leaning back and placing one finger on his cheek as he studied me. If he was waiting for me to crack and start blubbering, he had no idea who he was dealing with. My stomach was folding over and over and over on itself like an intricate work of origami, and I had to pee. My palms were sweating. My head pounded. My eyes were dry. But none of that mattered. I'd already read all the titles on the 334 tomes behind his desk, and I could do it again. He had them in alphabetical order by author, OCD man that he was. Perfectly in order. Just like the rest of his office. All right angles, gleaming glass, and freshly shone wood.
Behind me, Mr. White cleared his throat. The headmaster looked up. He adjusted back to his original position. Hands laced together on his desk. Expression stern. "What was going on in Billings House tonight, Miss Brennan?" he asked in that imperious voice of his. I smirked. "You've already talked to fourteen of my friends. I think you know." His eyebrows arched. Oops. Too pert? But we both knew this was a joke. Someone had obviously cracked before I even walked through his door. Constance, definitely, could never have handled this. So why was he even continuing with this charade?
"I'd like to hear it from you," he said. "I have nothing to say," I told him. He blew out a sigh. "Look, Miss Brennan, I'm not here to make trouble for you. I know your history. I've read your file. I hardly believe that a scholarship student from central Pennsylvania is the ringleader of this little sorority of yours. All I want to know is who that ringleader might be. Tell me that, and then you can go." I almost choked on a laugh. Was he really good-copping me? And even more ridiculous, was he really telling me that all I had to do was give up the one girl I wanted to see booted from this institution and I was off the hook? It was almost too perfect. "I know who it is, Miss Brennan. You know who it is," he told me. "But I need someone to go on record with the information if I'm going to do anything about it."
So it was up to me. No one else had given her up. That was what he was telling me. Shocking. Finally it had come down to me and Cheyenne. I could end this, right here, right now. Get rid of the girl who had stolen the love of my life. Make it so that she and Josh would never see each other again. Well, maybe not never, but at least not every day. Get them out of trysting distance of each other. Oh, how I'd love to take away any possibility Cheyenne had of being with him again.
But the more I thought about it, a cold blanket descended over my shoulders. As much as I hated her, as awful as she'd been, as easily as she'd tricked me, now that I was faced with the choice, I knew that I couldn't be the one to give up Cheyenne. Doing that would be proving her right about me. It would be proving to her that I wasn't a true Billings Girl. That I didn't understand what it meant. Maybe I didn't agree with all Cheyenne's opinions on what being in Billings signified, but I did know one thing. Billings Girls protected one another. Even when they didn't want to. I'd learned that from Noelle. Among so many other things. The only reason to turn Cheyenne in now would be to protect myself, and I had a feeling that I wasn't going anywhere. As long as we stuck together, the headmaster could do nothing. There was no way he could expel sixteen of us without a negative backlash from the alumni and the press unlike any other. "So, Miss Brennan. What's it going to be?" the headmaster asked me, looking quite sure of himself. "Are you going to tell me whose idea it was to have this initiation?"
I sat up straight, looked him dead in the eye, and smiled. His expression of certainty faltered. I wished Cheyenne were here to witness this. "Headmaster Cromwell," I said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
* * *
When I got back to Billings, everyone was gathered in the parlor. Everyone except Cheyenne, who had been called into the headmaster's office after me. Rose and Portia stood up when I walked in. Portia's eyes darted behind me. "Where's Cheyenne?" she asked. "Still there." I was suddenly exhausted. I walked over to the bay window and sat down, staring out at the darkened quad. There were too many thoughts. Impossible to focus. What had I done? Had I really passed by my chance to rid my life of Cheyenne? Was I really going to have to live with all that hatred for the rest of the year? I felt a hand touch my shoulder and looked up. It was Rose.
"I just wanted to see if you're okay," she said. "After everything Cheyenne said before ..." My heart felt hollow. "Thanks. I'm-fine." Behind her the rest of the girls started to murmur amongst themselves. Constance, Sabine, Astrid, Kiki, and Lorna were all gathered in a corner, talking urgently. Missy sat alone, staring into the darkened fireplace. "It's not true, you know. What she said," Rose told me, sitting across from me in the window bench. "Well, part of it is. You weren't voted in the normal way. But she was wrong when she said no one wants you there. We all love you." I had to laugh. I leaned my head on the cool windowpane and looked out. "Yeah, right." "I'm serious," Rose told me. "After everything you went through last year, just the fact that you came back spring semester . . . Well, everyone was impressed. I mean, none of us could have been that brave. You know everyone likes you. We had so much fun last spring. The spa trips, that insane shopping weekend in Boston, Vienna's sweet-seventeen party."
I smiled, recalling how Vienna had gotten so wasted, she'd decided to try to reinvent her balance beam routine from her brief childhood flirtation with gymnastics. Problem being she had tried to create it on the railing of her father's yacht while out at sea. Gage had caught
her about two seconds before going over, then made everyone call him "My Savior" all night long. Because, in his opinion, his great achievement was saving the party for all of us. Not saving Vienna's life.
"It's just Cheyenne," Rose told me. "For whatever reason, she's had issues with you from day one." "I think we both know the reason. She's never thought a scholarship student with a Gap wardrobe and a twenty-dollar haircut belonged in Billings," I said, remembering that day during my hazing that Cheyenne had referred to my blue-collar background and crushed her blush beads into her rug for me to clean up. Somehow, between then and now, I had allowed myself to forget about that. Had even enjoyed her company some last year. Temporary insanity. "Twenty dollars? Really?" Rose said, looking momentarily horrified. Then she recalled herself and waved her hand. "I mean, you totally can't tell."
"Thanks, Rose," I said with a laugh. "No problem!" Rose trilled. "So we're good?" I didn't have the chance to respond. The front door of Billings opened. Cheyenne walked into the parlor, her steps stiff, her eyes red. She looked as if she'd just been told she had two weeks to live. "What happened?" Rose asked, standing. "I'm out," Cheyenne said. She stared straight ahead, not meeting anyone's eye. "I'm expelled." The air was forcibly sucked from my lungs. I couldn't move. I had no idea what to think. "But you didn't do anything!" Portia said. "At least, nothing we haven't always done. Did you tell him--" "They don't care," Cheyenne said, lifting her eyes for the first time. "They didn't even want to hear it. I have tonight to pack my things, and tomorrow I'm gone." She turned around and staggered out. Portia leapt over Tiffany's legs and scurried to follow. No one else moved. I looked over at Sabine, trembling. Sabine stared back. It was over. Cheyenne had gotten herself expelled. And we hadn't done a thing.
PUNISHMENT FITTING THE CRIME
Two seconds later no one had recovered enough to move, and once again the front door of Billings opened. Our eyes darted everywhere, like our fortress was being invaded and no one knew where the weapons were. Headmaster Cromwell walked right into the parlor with Mrs. Naylor, of all people, on his heels. It was the middle of the night and she was fully dressed in a gray suit and eggplant shirt, her watery eyes heavily lined as always. "Everyone please sit," the headmaster ordered.
We did. All fourteen of us. I wondered if he would notice Portia's absence, but didn't much care. What now? My heart wasn't going to be able to take many more moments like this. There was no air in the room. My pulse was shallow and rapid. To my left, Sabine was so tense, a loud noise would have sent her straight through the ceiling. To my right, Constance looked green. Tiffany's hands were folded on her lap. Her camera, for once, was nowhere in sight. The headmaster cleared his throat. "Ladies, I think you already know how gravely disappointed I am, so I'm not going to rehash that now," Cromwell began. "You should all know that Cheyenne Martin has been expelled and I've fired Mrs. Lattimer."
Gasps all around. Even I couldn't believe that one. "I realize she's been with the school for a number of years, but clearly she was unable to control you, and so she had to go." "Omigod," Vienna said under her breath. I knew what she was thinking. Lattimer may have been haughty and prim, but she had also been in our pocket. She had looked the other way on several occasions, not just this year, but last year as well. It had always been implied that Noelle was slipping her money or shoes or whatever it was she wanted in order to buy her cooperation. If she was gone . . . "Mrs. Naylor has kindly volunteered to take Mrs. Lattimer's place," the headmaster continued.
Mrs. Naylor lifted her head. Her waddle swung back and forth beneath her chin as she looked down at us. Constance grabbed my hand, probably to keep from flinching. "Mrs. Naylor will be writing up daily reports about the goings-on inside Billings," the headmaster continued. "Reports which I will read every night. When one of you sneezes, I will know about it. If there is so much as an unkind word spoken between you, I will know about it. So I suggest you start thinking seriously about how you're going to conduct yourselves from this moment forward. Mrs. Naylor, you have the floor." The headmaster stepped aside, and Mrs. Naylor strode back and forth along the front window, eyeing us like new recruits into her personal army of pain. Her orthopedic shoes had been shined to a gleam, and they squished and squeaked as she walked.
"Many of you know me," she began. "Some of you do not. For those of you who do not, rest assured you will get to know me. Well. You and I will be spending a lot of time together. This school is a respected institution of learning. Your dorm rooms are for studying and for sleeping. They are not for socializing. They are not for partying. As far as I am concerned, you and your lot have done enough to sully the good name of Easton Academy over the past few years. That all ends with me."
I glanced at London and Vienna, who both looked as if they'd just had their American Express Black cards taken away. The desperation in the air was palpable. As punishments went, I had to admit, this one was creative. Cromwell hadn't expelled us, but to most of my housemates, this was even worse. If they had been expelled, they could have moved on to one of the many other posh boarding schools and continued to party like the celebutantes they were. But with Mrs. Naylor breathing down our necks, the party was over. Life in Billings House would never be the same.
* * *
The door to Cheyenne's room was open. I don't know what drew me there, but while everyone else followed Mrs. Naylor's orders to go directly to bed, I went to Cheyenne's doorway. I was breathless, knowing what this must be doing to her. She loved this place. Not just Billings House, but Easton. This was her senior year. And just like that, it was all over. I found Cheyenne sitting on the edge of her neat-as-a-pin bed, knees together, feet apart, posture slumped. Just staring. Her eyes flicked to me.
"Come to gloat?" she asked. "No," I said automatically. "Why not? Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked, lifting her palms as she stood. "Isn't this what you've been working for all year?" I blinked. "Working for? You were the one who was trying to get people thrown out. I was just defending them." "Oh, please. We both know this is all your fault!" she snapped. "Don't insult me by pretending otherwise." I took a few steps into the room. "My fault? What are you on?" "I know you're the one who tipped Cromwell off about initiation," Cheyenne said, standing. "How else would he have known to conduct his ridiculous raid tonight?" "I tipped him off? Why would I tip him off?" I asked, completely baffled. "Obviously you found out that I had no intention of initiating your little posse of losers, so you decided to ruin the whole thing," Cheyenne blurted.
"Okay, first of all, Ms. Selective Memory," I began, "I had no idea you were planning on ostracizing them. Do you not remember how shocked I was?" I hated to admit my naivete, but it was the truth. And if it would get her psycho self to back off, so be it. "So you're a good actress. Bully for you," Cheyenne said. "Bully for me? Where do you get this stuff?" I asked. "All I know is, a true Billings Girl would never have gone against her sisters like this," Cheyenne said, walking slowly toward me. "This is an elite house, Reed. But you don't get that, do you? You don't get that our lives are different from yours. That they will always be different. That our bonds are formed on something much deeper than you could ever hope to understand." "On what? On money? On privilege? On Daddy's credit card?" I retorted. "Oh, yeah. That's deep." Cheyenne sniffed, looking me up and down. "See? You've just proved it. You don't belong in our world. You have no idea what it takes to be in Billings."
She crossed her arms over her chest and her diamond B shifted above her neckline. That ridiculous trinket. Her superior way of separating us from the crowd. God, I wished she could have seen me in that office tonight. Someone had turned her in, yes. It was the only explanation for her expulsion. Constance? Sabine? I had no idea. But even Cromwell couldn't get away with booting her without someone's testimony. But it hadn't been mine. Oh, how I wished I could tell her it hadn't been mine. But I knew without reservation that if the situation had been reversed, Cheyenne would have given me up without so much as a blink. I wasn't going to stand here and defend
myself. I wasn't going to let her think I was begging for her approval and absolution.
"I think you're the one who has no idea what it takes," I said through my teeth. "I hate you," Cheyenne spat, getting right in my face. "I wish you'd never come to this school. You don't belong here. You're nothing but a backwater hick, and that's all you'll ever be." The venom dropping off her tongue seared right through me. I narrowed my eyes. "That may be true, Cheyenne, but tomorrow I'll still be an Easton Academy student. What will you be?" Oh. My. God. I'd just said it. The perfect comeback at the perfect time. My face was hot with triumph. And an undertone of what felt, annoyingly, like guilt. But she deserved it, didn't she? After all that she'd done? "Get out," Cheyenne said through her teeth, an angry tear spilling down her cheek. Her face was near purple with rage.
"Cheyenne--" "Get out!" She grabbed me, turned me around, and shoved me into the hall. Before I could even turn fully around, she'd slammed the door. I stood there for a long moment, shaking as I tried to catch my breath. I had never seen Cheyenne look like that before. It was almost frightening. "Ms. Brennan?" Mrs. Naylor's voice startled me half out of my skin. She stood at the end of the hall looking like grim death. A few doors in the hallway quietly closed. Clearly the girls in the house had been listening in on me and Cheyenne. "I believe I told you all to get to bed." "Right. Sorry," I told her, scurrying to my room. I caught her look of disdain as I slipped inside and closed the door. Sabine sat up in her bed. The candles next to her bed were lit, and they flickered as she moved. "Are you all right?" she asked. I sat on my comforter, still trembling, and took a deep breath. "Fine," I replied. I swallowed hard, feeling almost nervous. "So. Interesting development."