“God, I could just go to sleep right now,” Josh said, stretching his arms above his head. “I think I ate too many pancakes this morning. They put me right out.”
'Wow. You're gonna be really useful on the soccer field today," I teased.
Josh, like me, played defense--on the men's team, of course.
“I don't know how you can eat those things,” Kiran said,
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crossing her arms over her stomach as we rounded a bend under a tunnel of colorful leaves. “That's enough calories for a whole week right there.”
“Like you've ever eaten enough calories for a whole week. Even in a whole week,” Noelle joked.
“Hey! I eat! I do! You've seen me eat,” Kiran replied, suddenly manic. “You've seen me eat, right, Reed?”
“Uh . . . yeah,” I said. Because I had. Until I'd found that psycho box I never would have known Kiran had issues. “Of course you eat. And you look perfect, by the way.”
A little affirmation couldn't hurt, right?
“See?” Kiran said triumphantly. “Reed's seen me eat.”
“Okay! Okay! Calm down already before you give yourself the shakes,” Noelle said.
“I vote for a change of topic!” Taylor put in, casting Kiran a worried look. So maybe she did know what went on in her roommate's closet.
“Fine. Reed, how's it going with Whittaker?” Noelle asked.
I glanced warily at Josh, who instantly became very interested in the nearest tree.
“How's what going?”
“Has he asked you to go steady yet?” Kiran said sarcastically, causing Taylor to snort a laugh.
'Yeah. Did he pin you?" Taylor asked.
“He does sort of seem like he's out of another era, doesn't he?” I said. “Like we should all be wearing poodle skirts and superhigh ponytails.”
“I think it's sweet,” Noelle said. “At least he's a gentleman.”
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Kiran, Taylor, Josh, and I all paused. Noelle stopped a few feet ahead and turned with an exasperated sigh. “Problem?”
“Uh, yeah. You just complimented someone with no trace of sarcasm or malice,” Kiran said.
“Not just someone. Walt Whittaker,” Taylor pointed out.
“Are you self-medicating again?” Kiran asked.
“Kiran, you're a model. Don't try to be funny,” Noelle said, earning a laugh from Josh. “And, news alert, I set Reed up with the guy. That means it's my responsibility not to mock him until after they've gone horizontal.”
Ugh. We all had to groan at that one.
“We are not going to be . . . you know . . . doing that,” I told them in no uncertain terms. “We're just friends.”
“You're sure about that,” Noelle said, taking a step toward me.
I lifted my chin. She could make me vacuum her room and clean out her hair brush and shine her shoes, but she could not tell me who to date. I had to draw the line somewhere. Josh was watching me closely.
“Yes. I'm sure,” I said.
“Well, you might want to tell him that,” she said, turning me around and pointing. Whit was coming toward us down the path, an eager smile on his face as he bore down on me. “Because that is not the face of a person who wants to talk to a friend.”
“Good morning, all,” Whit said, with a slight bow of his head. “How is everyone this fine day?”
“We're all just fabulous, Whit. Thanks for asking,” Noelle said, slinging her arm over Kiran's shoulder. Kiran turned and laughed
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into Noelle's jacket. “We'll leave you two alone, won't we?”
“Sure. 'Bye, Whit!” Taylor said. Then the three of them traipsed off, arm in arm, toward the buses, leaving me seething in Whit's shadow.
“See you guys later,” Josh added before loping away.
'“Bye!” I said loudly. Like somehow that would make him come back and save me.
“Hello, Reed,” Whit said huskily. “How are you?”
“Fine,” I said. I turned and walked toward the end of the path. He, of course, fell into step with me. “How are you?”
“I'm well,” he said, nodding. “Thank you for asking.”
We had come to the edge of the parking lot. The various teams were gathered together in clumps as the bus drivers and coaches tried to sort out which bus was going where. A couple of the guys' teams were off to other schools and apparently there had been some crossed wires. I paused and let out a sigh. Looked like my hopes of getting on the bus and jetting off were dashed.
“Which sport do you play?” he asked.
“Soccer,” I told him.
“A rough sport,” he said. “You seem too delicate for such a rough sport.”
“Well, then you don't know me,” I replied, sounding a bit harsher than I intended.
Whit, however, didn't seem to notice. He just smiled at me for a long moment as if I'd said something amusing. Long enough to make me squirm. And then, gradually, his face fell.
“What?” I said.
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'You're not wearing the earrings," he said.
He reached out and touched my bare earlobe, pressing it gently between his thumb and forefinger. I tilted my head and shrugged away.
This was unbelievable. Couldn't he take a hint? Maybe I should just tell him I had a boyfriend. Except that I didn't, thanks to Thomas's secret breakup note. Not that anyone other than me knew that.
God, I wished Thomas were there right then. So I could throttle him.
“No . . . they're a little much for a soccer game, don't you think?” I asked.
“But you haven't worn them since I gave them to you,” he said. “Do you not like them?”
“No. It's not that,” I said. “It's just...”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Constance standing with the rest of the cross-country team. She was watching me--watching us--very closely. Surreptitiously, I turned my hand, palm out at my side, and crooked my fingers, waving her over.
“It's just, they seem more like special-occasion earrings,” I told him. “They're too nice to wear every day.”
Constance shook her head very slightly and shifted her feet. I crooked my fingers more insistently.
“But the man at the store said they were everyday earrings,” Whittaker told me. “That was why I purchased them. So that you could wear them every day.”
Someone behind me giggled. Damn eavesdroppers. I so didn't
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like where this conversation was going, and the last thing I needed was for anyone else to overhear it. I did the only thing I could think to do: I sacrificed a friend.
“Constance!” I said loudly, turning my head and widening my eyes. “Hey! I've been looking all over for you!”
No one had perfected the deer-in-headlights thing like Constance. She stood there, frozen, with her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Then her head twitched and she looked at Whittaker and her face entirely transformed. Charming smile, flirtatiously tilted head, rosy cheeks.
“Hi, Reed,” she said. “Hello, Walt.”
For a moment, Whittaker seemed offended by both the interruption and the use of his first name. But then his expression cleared and he smiled.
“Constance! Constance Talbot! My parents told me you were matriculating here this semester! It's so good to see you!”
Constance made her way over to us. Whittaker leaned in and gave Constance a cheek kiss, and I was almost certain she was going to pee i
n her pants. The glee on her face could have warmed the entire student body.
“Oh! You two know each other? ” I said, trying my best to be the good actress. “How great is that? Two of my favorite people and they already know each other.”
Whit looked at me quizzically.
“We were roommates at the beginning of the year,” I explained. “Constance is the best,” I said, wrapping my arm around her. She grinned at me, pleased. "Did you know she's
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writing for the Gazette? You should tell him all about that frontpage article you're working on."
Constance flushed. “No. Please. It's no big deal.” She looked up at him with sheer worship in her eyes. “I'd rather hear about your trip. Was it as amazing as it sounded?”
Yes. Go, Constance. She'd hit on his favorite topic in one shot. This girl was good. Better than she gave herself credit for.
“Even more so, actually,” he said. “China was absolutely awe- inspiring. When you're standing there, under the Great Wall, you really understand for the first time the capacity man has for--”
“I'm gonna let you two catch up,” I said, interrupting before I got stuck. Behind Constance, I saw Noelle and some other girls from the soccer team finally boarding a bus. “Looks like they've got us sorted out.”
Whittaker's brow knitted as he looked at me. “But I--”
“See ya!” I said, then turned and jogged off.
I climbed onto the bus, sat down in the first seat, and hunkered down to peek through the bottom of the window. Whittaker was still talking, gesturing hugely as he spoke, and Constance was rapt with attention. Standing out there in the sun, her in her Easton sweats and him in his trench, they looked like the perfect fresh-faced, overprivileged, prep school couple.
All I could hope was that very soon Whittaker would start seeing that too.
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TRUNK SHOW
Noelle Lange had sick amounts of stuff. Hundred of CDs stuffed into leather crates in her closet. A half-dozen silk boxes filled with tangled necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, most of which looked far too expensive to be treated with such carelessness. Drawers full of photographs and postcards and invitations to charity events and fashion shows. Ticket stubs from London theaters, shot glasses from exotic locales, three iPods of various sizes and colors, crystal-studded makeup cases, leather wristlets, gold and leather key chains, scented candles, digital cameras, lace thongs, manicure kits, cell phone cases. It never ended. How I would ever sort out something that mattered from all this swag that clearly didn't, I had no idea.
I stood up after closing her bottom desk drawer and blew my hair out of my face. I was almost afraid to try under the bed. What did she keep under there? Her illegal furs and bars of gold and silver?
At least I had time on my side. Noelle and Ariana were supposed to be at the library all night studying for some massive
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English exam. Or, more likely, gossiping all night and trusting that their golden streak of luck and blessedness would, as always, get them through.
That golden streak was the reason I was here. All I wanted in life was to have their kind of luck. Too bad I was going to have to take them down to get it. But I couldn't think about that now. I had work to do.
Down on my hands and knees, I was about to lift Noelle's duponi comforter when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. On the floor, sticking out from behind her dresser, was a sliver of something red. Curious, I crawled over and inspected. It looked like the end of a patent leather bag. Suddenly my pulse went into overdrive. This looked like it could be something.
Bracing one hand on the front of the dresser, I reached around and yanked the bag free. It was long and slim, a plain red clutch. I leaned back against the foot of her bed and slowly unzipped it. Inside were about ten four-by-six photographs.
I pulled the first one out and almost gagged. It was Dash, and he was naked. Completely stark naked. And very... well... excited.
Barking a laugh, I slapped the photo facedown into my lap.
Oh. My. God. Was this for real? Slowly, I lifted the corner of the photo again and peeked. Yep. Still there. He was lying on his side on a double bed, his head propped up on his hand, his hairless chest cut as could be, and his penis completely erect.
Damn, was he ever endowed. This guy could totally be in porn.
Quickly, I pulled out the rest of the pictures. Dash, naked,
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sitting on the edge of the bed. Dash, naked, standing with a smirk on his face. Dash, naked. Dash, naked. Dash, naked. And the piece de resistance: Dash, naked, hugging a teddy bear. Talk about blackmail. If I ever felt like taking Dash McCafferty down, I had just found the motherlode.
Shaking my head, I stuffed the photos back in their case and shoved them behind the dresser again, this time making sure no part of it was visible. No one else needed to find that. It was my good deed for the day.
I blew out a sigh and decided to try Ariana's side of the room. This time I went for the closet first and straight for the top shelf, since that was where I had uncovered Kiran's big secret. Unfortunately, Ariana's shelves contained nothing scandalous, aside from a pink crocheted sweater that I had never seen her wear and hopefully never would. Definitely one of those gifts given by a grandma that one just couldn't manage to throw away. I jumped down off the desk chair and dropped to the floor.
Tucked back toward the rear wall was an old-fashioned trunk. Huh. That definitely looked like something that might hold something scandalous. I pulled it toward me and opened the lid. Inside were piles and piles of notebooks, copies of the Easton literary magazine, various editions of Poetry magazine and Writer's Weekly, and boxes of pens and pencils. I lifted out a stack of magazines and dug through the memorabilia, looking for anything that seemed as if it didn't belong. There were random pages and scraps covered
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in Ariana's handwriting, drafts of poems and lines of ideas. If I'd had more time and a free pass from Ariana, I might have stopped to read some of it, but that wasn't what I was here for. Unfortunately, it looked as if I'd hit another dead end.
I was about to replace the magazines when I saw a tiny piece of brown ribbon that seemed to be lodged between the bottom of the trunk and the side. How had that gotten wedged in there? I reached in and tugged at it and my breath caught in my throat. Had the bottom of the trunk just moved?
I glanced at the outside of the trunk. Sure enough, the “floor” of the inside was about four inches higher than the bottom on the outside.
The trunk had a false bottom.
Heart pounding a mile a minute now, I dove in and took everything out. I knew this was dangerous. There was a ton of crap here and it would take me a while to replace it all. But I had to see what was in the bottom of this trunk. If Ariana was hiding something, she had done a much better job of hiding it than her friends had.
Once the trunk was clear, I grabbed the ribbon and pulled. The entire floor of the trunk pulled free. Sitting underneath it was a sleek black laptop computer.
I turned and looked over my shoulder. Ariana had a Mac all set up on her desk. What did a high school student need with a second, secret computer?
I took the computer out and rested it in my lap. I popped the
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top and hit the power button, just praying no one would walk
in. It took the computer a few agonizing seconds to power up. What was on this thing? Was it the proof Natasha was looking for? Had Ariana and the others actually plotted to get Leanne thrown out of school? It was clear that Ariana, at least, had something worth hiding. These were pretty elaborate measures for simply stashing a laptop to keep it from getting stolen. Especially when everyone at this school could buy one of these things four thousand times over.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, come on. . . .”
Finally, a black screen appeared with a prompt window in the center.
“Welcome, Ariana,” it read. “Password?”
And there was that white box underneath with a flashing cursor, mocking me. There would be no getting past this without a password.
Shit.
Downstairs, the front door of Billings opened and slammed. I was on my feet in an instant, carefully replacing the computer and the false bottom and all the contents of the trunk. I shoved it back into the closet, slipped out the door, and ran to the stairwell, jogging down to my own floor. It wasn't until I was back in my room that I allowed myself to breathe. I leaned back against my door and heaved, my hand over my stomach.
I was onto something. I knew I was. I had to get the password
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to that computer, but how? I couldn't figure out what Ariana meant half the time when she was speaking directly to me, so how was I supposed to deduce her secret password?
Didn't matter how. I had to do it. Because if there was anything to be found, it was on that computer. I was sure of it.
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PERFECT COUPLE
“Reed! Reed! Wait up!”
I paused on the steps to the library as Constance jogged to catch up with me. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement. She placed her hand over her heart as she stopped in front of me to catch her breath. Just looking at her made me think of meadows in springtime and flowers blooming.