back to stare up at the window above.
The figure paused, its back to the window. In the early morning light, she recognized the dark hair. The
familiar navy argyle sweater. It was Sergei. Just Sergei. Relieved, Ariana ducked down and threw the window
open. She tossed everything through the opening and onto the desk she'd moved underneath the window that
morning. She heard the sound of the plastic bottle rolling across the floor.
Quickly, Ariana crawled through the window, dropped down to the desk, and then to the floor. Shoulders
rising and falling with her rapid breath, she chided herself for letting her curiosity get the best of her. Sergei
could have seen her, not to mention any one of
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the other students staying behind during break. She had to be more careful.
And she had to know where Daniel was. Hands shaking, she pulled out Mr. Holmes's phone and dialed.
After one ring, a young female voice chirped in her ear. "Good morning, Winter Lodge Resort. This is
Alessandra."
Ariana cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm trying to get in touch with one of your guests," she whispered into the
receiver, glancing across the basement. Thomas was still sprawled out on the dusty floor, his head resting on
her coat. "Daniel Ryan?"
"One moment, Miss. I'll try his room."
"Thanks," Ariana croaked.
It's fine, she told herself as the harsh ring echoed from the receiver. It's going to be fine.
Still, she felt sick to her stomach. If he picked up, that meant he had no idea what she'd done or whom she'd
done it with. But if he picked up, he was still going to be angry. What was she going to say to him?
"Yeah?" A groggy, muffled voice sounded on the other end of the line.
Ariana gripped the phone tightly in her sweaty fist. Daniel's voice. He was in Vermont.
"Hello?" His voice sounded again, stronger this time. It was familiar, almost comforting. Ariana felt a twinge
in her heart. Indecision? Remorse? But then the image of his glowing laptop screen flooded her thoughts. The
image of all the names, the endless
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list of girls. And her name, no different from any other, at the end. She'd been a nothing to him. Just some girl
that he'd counted on screwing by Christmas.
She slammed the phone shut and tossed it on the table next to her. Relief and dread filled her at once.
Daniel wasn't the one stalking her and Thomas. This was a good thing. But now she was back where she
started. The person who had taken that picture had the power to ruin her life. He or she had evidence that she
and Thomas had been on campus when they weren't supposed to be, that they'd been in another student's
room, that they'd been doing things they definitely weren't supposed to be doing. The person who had taken
that picture could destroy her. And she had no idea who that person could be.
Feeling a new wave of adrenaline rush through her, Ariana scooped up the bottle of water and the food and
crouched under the stairs, next to Thomas's body.
"Thomas," she whispered. "Wake up."
She pressed her hands against his chest. His body was limp, motionless under her palms. She tried again,
shaking him more violently this time.
"What the hell?" he yelled, sitting up straight. When he saw Ariana in front of him, he gripped his head with
both hands and sank back onto the floor, wincing in pain. "Your wake-up calls could use a little work."
"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.
"Like somebody took a bat to my head. And my ankle."
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He tested his ankle by pressing his foot into the floor and flinched, his eyes still closed.
"I'm sorry about the timing, but I need you to focus," Ariana said firmly. "I have to show you something."
She removed the folded picture of her and Thomas from her pocket. He had to see the photo-had to know
what was going on.
"What is it?"
Thomas struggled to push himself up against the cement-block wall. His swiped the bottle of SmartWater and
twisted the cap off, chugging half the bottle in one gulp.
Ariana dropped the picture on the floor in front of him. "I found this in your room yesterday," she began,
opening Mr. Holmes's cell phone over the picture. Blue light spilled over every crease, every imperfection in
the paper. "On your desk."
Looking confused, Thomas leaned over the crinkled piece of paper. Shock froze his features, and he was
silent.
"Somebody's following us." Ariana was trying to sound strong, but her voice came out shaky. "And it's not
Daniel. I called his resort this morning. He's there. Just like you said."
"Why?" Thomas asked, his brow creasing. "Who would-"
"I don't know," she said flatly.
She stared at the photo. Thomas was facing the camera. She was facing away. They were both sitting on
Daniel's desk, amidst a pile of textbooks and dirty clothes. Daniel's laptop was open on the edge of the desk,
facing the door. Once again, the thought of that spreadsheet sent a shiver of disgust through her body.
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"What's that?" Thomas squinted harder at the picture, bringing it in front of his face.
"What's what?" Ariana felt her pulse quickening.
"Nothing." He shrugged. His features had hardened. "I just thought I saw something." He dropped the picture
again and Ariana snatched it before it had the chance to reach the floor.
"Show me," she demanded.
The picture was the only link between them and whoever was following them. If he'd seen something that
could help them figure out who it was, she needed to know.
Thomas rolled his eyes and pointed. "It's just that dark smudge in the corner of the mirror. I thought it was the
photographer, but it's just ink from the printer or something." Thomas reached for the white chocolate
reindeer, peeling the edge of the tinfoil away. "Never thought I'd say this, but I'm starting to wish I'd gone
home for Christmas." He reached down to his ankle and touched it gingerly. "Definitely sprained."
Ariana studied the picture, trying not to let his words sting. She knew his comment hadn't meant anything, but
it was hard not to take it personally.
"It's nothing," Thomas said again, biting off a giant antler. "Don't waste your time."
But Ariana's pulse was quickening again. She stood up and brought the photo over to the window, where the
soft morning light was starting to gain strength. Suddenly, the smudge, as Thomas had called it, came into
focus. Ariana's eyes widened in disbelief as she recognized
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the familiar pattern. The dark argyle plaid she'd seen just seconds ago, in the window on Drake's fourth floor.
"Oh my God." She brought her free hand to her mouth. Nervous energy rattled her insides. She should have
known. How could she have been so stupid?
"What?" Thomas sat up straight.
"Sergei Tretyakov." Her voice trembled with excitement. "The Russian kid?" he asked incredulously. "He's
Latvian."
"Seriously? You want to argue about this?" For the first time since they'd escaped Ketlar, Ariana saw light
dancing in Thomas's eyes.
"That's his sweater, in the corner of the mirror." Ariana brought the photo over and dropped down to the floor
again so that he could see it. "You were right. When he took the picture from the doorway, he accidentally got
himself in the reflection."
Thomas looked skeptical. "You sure about this? I mean, why wo
uld-"
"He's always had a weird thing for me," Ariana said, intoxicated by the discovery. Now that she knew who
the perpetrator was, she could do something about it. "Remember-the kid was taking so many pictures of me
at the Winter Ball, Daniel had to steal his camera!" Her voice brimmed with energy. It was all starting to
come together. "He's practically obsessed. So he breaks into my room and steals the picture of me. Somehow
he figures out that I'm still on campus, and follows me around, leaving that photo of us in your room. It was
his blood on my coat."
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"Wait, how would he find out you're still around?" Thomas interrupted.
"I don't know," Ariana admitted. "Maybe he spotted us the other night in Hell Hall or something. He could
have been there dropping off work like I was. And-oh my God. He was at North Face when I was-the hat
outside the chapel must have been his!"
"Kid's a little creepy." Thomas shrugged, not looking quite convinced. "But why leave that picture for us to
find? He's too lame to pull off blackmail."
"Only one way to find out," she said. "We have to break into his room."
"Oh, no," Thomas groaned. "I'm staying right here." He shrank away from her toward the wall.
She shook her head. "I can't do this alone, Thomas. And Drake is his permanent dorm. We don't even have to
go outside."
Relief seeped through her heart. Sergei was a lot of things, but intimidating wasn't one of them. They could
handle this. Together. She checked her watch. Two hours until breakfast.
"We'll wait until everybody leaves for breakfast and sneak in."
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Thomas handed her the half-empty bottle of water and tore into a Zone
bar.
"No. You don't," she said happily.
Ariana brought the bottle to her lips and let the cool water slide down her throat, calming her. In less than two
hours, they'd have their answers.
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THE MISSION
***"Can you walk?" Ariana glanced worriedly at Thomas's ankle as they started up the basement stairs.
"Yeah." He grimaced at the first few steps. "Nothing I can't handle." He gripped her face in his hands, a
serious look suddenly hardening his features. "Your mission, Agent Osgood, is this: Break into the Russian's
room and make sure he's not hiding your picture in there." Thomas's eyes danced with amusement.
"Questions?"
"Thomas," she giggled, "it's not funny. This is serious. Now come on." She held his hand as he limped slowly
up the rest of the stairs.
"That's Agent Pearson to you," he retorted. "And I know it's serious. Should you accept this mission, the path
through the Russian's room will be a dangerous one. There will be corduroy pants. There will be chess sets."
"Again, Latvian." Ariana rolled her ice blue eyes. "The Latvian's room."
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"And worst of all, Agent Osgood, there will be ..." Thomas paused dramatically, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Argyle."
"I think you're still a little drugged, Agent Pearson," Ariana said with a laugh.
"Nothing wrong with that," Thomas said.
Ariana paused and leaned back against the stairwell, wanting to enjoy the lightness of the moment. After
everything they had been through in the past two days, laughing with Thomas felt good. It felt normal. And,
glancing out the windows, she noticed for the first time that morning how beautiful the campus looked
underneath the thick covering of snow. It was as if someone had taken a white cashmere throw and tossed it
casually over the grounds. The trees, the old stone buildings, the lampposts-everything was draped in pure
white. Under the bright sunlight, Easton Academy looked innocent. Untouched.
"You ready?" she said finally, her hand on the door handle.
"Yep." Thomas nodded, glancing suspiciously around the deserted basement. "Let's move, Osgood."
"You are such a dork," she groaned. "When the guys get back to campus I'm going to tell all of them what a
dork you are," she lied. She wasn't exactly sure which parts of this weekend she would ever divulge, but she
was just having fun-and trying to keep her mind from wondering if the stalker really was Sergei and if he
was actually dangerous.
Together they slipped into the darkened lobby of Drake House. Ariana lifted her index finger to her lips,
motioning for Thomas to be quiet. He gave her an exaggerated nod and she had to concentrate
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to stifle a giggle while he checked the directory board to find Sergei's room number.
"He's on four," Thomas said as he limped to the elevator.
In moments, Ariana found herself staring at a dorm door covered in photographs. Shots of the Easton
Academy campus. Pictures of buildings, professors, and students. There was a shot of Noelle giving the
camera the finger at the Winter Ball, a look of annoyance tinged with self-satisfaction on her face. A candid
of Dash and Thomas, tossing a football across the quad. A picture of the entire student body, taken from the
back of the Easton chapel during the last morning assembly. Brilliant red and blue light filtered through the
stained glass and spilled over the students. It was a stunning image. All the images were, in their own way.
Somehow, Sergei had managed to capture something about Easton that Ariana couldn't name. What Easton
was, who its students were, when no one was looking, when it was stripped of the polished veneer of money,
prestige, and power. Sergei had captured what was underneath.
"There you are." Thomas pointed.
Ariana's breath caught in her throat. In the photo, she was leaning against the marble column at the Driscoll,
staring up at the ceiling, the light from the crystal chandelier spilling over her face and hair. She couldn't take
her eyes away from the girl in that picture. There was an innocence about her that seemed foreign. That girl
felt safe and secure in the world. She trusted that everything was going to work out for her in the end. Ariana
felt an unexpected twinge of anger.
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"Ariana?" Thomas rested his hand on her shoulder and she flinched.
"What?" she snapped. Her voice severed the space between them like a razor blade.
Thomas looked surprised. "Nothing. I just thought you wanted to get this over with."
Ariana avoided his gaze. "You're right. Let's go." She pushed Sergei's door open and tried the light switch on
the wall. It worked. "Power's back on."
Sergei's room was sparse and perfectly organized. His books and notebooks were stacked in symmetrical
piles on his desk, and his bed was made so tightly, Ariana wondered whether he had ever actually slept in it.
The attention to detail was familiar-comforting, in a weird way. It was a lot like Ariana's room.
A single photograph of an older-looking man and woman hung above his dresser. And sitting on his
nightstand, next to a tiny travel alarm clock, was another photograph. A black-and-white photograph of
Ariana, blowing a kiss to the camera.
"Found it." She sank onto the edge of Sergei's bed in disbelief, staring into her own eyes. No matter how sure
she'd sounded earlier, part of her still hadn't believed Sergei could do such a thing. He was so unassuming, so
quiet. But who knew what churned beneath his calm exterior? For the first time since she'd spotted the telltale
argyle in the picture of her and Thomas, she felt afraid.
Thomas collapsed onto the bed ne
xt to her. "Got the camera," he said, holding up Sergei's Nikon. "Your
boyfriend must have given it
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back before he left." He held it up so Ariana could see and pressed the display button at slow intervals. "But
he let the Latvian keep his photos."
Ariana stared at the glowing images on the display screen. Snapshots of her walking to class, clutching her
books tightly to her chest. A picture of her and Noelle, laughing in the cafeteria. Countless images of her
sitting alone, reading. And shot after shot of her at the Winter Ball. Nuzzling Daniel's neck. Taking a sip of
champagne. Twirling a lock of hair around her index finger.
She leaned against Thomas, suddenly feeling weak. "I had no idea he was this ..." She couldn't even finish
her sentence. There must have been dozens of images of her in Sergei's camera. Scrolling through them was
like watching a slide show of her life for the past few months. Everything she'd done, everywhere she'd been,
was right at her fingertips.
"Oh my God," Ariana gasped.
The screen had just landed on a picture of her and Thomas as they entered the old chapel in the woods the
other night, followed by a photo of Eli heading back in the direction of town. He'd probably caught the last
train to Greenwich that night. Smart guy.
"I was right. He's been following us this whole time," she said, shoving the camera at Thomas. "What is
wrong with him?"
She pushed away from the bed, clutching the framed picture in her hand. The familiar feeling of panic clawed
at her once again, threatening to drag her under. If Sergei was capable of stalking her like this, what else could
he do to her?
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"Thomas, what if he is planning on blackmailing us?" Ariana said shakily. "He has dozens of pictures of us
from the last two days. He could get us expelled in a heartbeat."
"Ariana, it's okay." Thomas's voice sounded far away. Aloud beep emanated from the camera. "I just deleted
all the files."
"But he could have saved them on his computer. Or worse, an Internet
account. That's not a guarantee that-"
Thomas put the camera down and placed both hands on her shoulders. "It's okay. We'll take care of it."
Ariana stared into Thomas's eyes, but she barely heard him. Sergei could ruin everything. If she got expelled,
her life would be over. She would never graduate from Easton, never get into Princeton, never have the life
she and her mother had planned for her.
And she would never see Thomas again. She couldn't let that happen. For the first time in her life, she was
actually living. She was herself when she was with Thomas. Ariana, and nobody else. She couldn't go back to
the way things were before. Couldn't go back to pretending. It would kill her.
Thomas was right. They were going to take care of this. Starting now.
Heart thundering, Ariana whirled around to the door and froze. Sergei was standing in the doorway, his cold
gaze fixed on her.
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SO EASY
***"You son of a bitch," Thomas hissed, grimacing as he tried to put weight on his bad ankle.
There was something in Sergei's dark eyes that sent tiny, electric chills through Ariana's body. She
recognized it instantly; the look that had surfaced in her mother's eyes years ago and had never left.
Desperation.
Sergei glanced from Thomas to Ariana to the photo in her hand, to the camera on his desk, and back again.
Instantly, the desperation in his eyes morphed into fear. He turned from the doorway and ran.
"Sergei! Wait!" Ariana shouted, dropping the picture of herself on the bed and bolting for the door. She
sprinted down the hallway behind Sergei. "We just want to talk to you!"
With every step, the gap between them widened. Ariana had never been much of an athlete, but she couldn't
let him get away.
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"Kid's fast," Thomas huffed from behind her. His voice crackled with pain.