Ambition Page 11

"Anyone could have come up with that idea." "Yes, but 'anyone' didn't," Sabine said, throwing in some air quotes. I had never seen

  her use air quotes before. She was really becoming Americanized. "Noelle did. And she should have at least run it past you before

  telling everyone how brilliant she is." "She had to tell Tiffany, at least, so that Tiff could ask her father right away," I replied. "And

  besides, who cares who knew first? We were all going to hear it eventually." "It's a matter of respect," Sabine said firmly. "She has no

  respect for you."

  My mouth went dry and I took a long drink from my water bottle. Unfortunately, Sabine's blunt comment struck a nerve. Noelle

  had always been my friend, but she had rarely, if ever, shown any respect for me--well, except for that night when she'd saved my life.

  "Aw. Madame President is looking a tad peaked," Ivy Slade said, stopping next to our table with her tray. "Having trouble finding

  people who want to help you save the Den of Evil?" I wanted to reply, but not a single comeback came to mind. Ivy grinned at my

  hesitation, then laughed in my face and sauntered off toward Josh's table. I watched her go with narrowed eyes, wishing I had some

  kind of telekinetic power that could send her sprawling on her ass from across the room. Clearly, Hauer hadn't brought her in for ques-

  tioning yet, or she couldn't possibly be so smug.

  Or maybe she could. Who knew? The girl was a complete enigma. Noelle had been no help, and I assumed that the rest of the

  Billings Girls would be mum about Ivy as well. If one member of my house thought something was big enough to keep a secret, that

  usually meant they all agreed. But someone else at this school had to know something more about her. Someone who would be willing

  to talk.

  TOTALLY WRONG

  "I've been doing a lot of research on the subject, and the residents of Billings House have always sort of pushed the envelope

  around here with the administration turning a blind eye. Why do you think they're coming down so hard on you now?" I stared at

  Marc's digital recorder, which he held in front of my face. Suddenly I realized I should have given some thought to what he might ask

  me and what I might say in return. But how was I supposed to concentrate on such things with so much going on around me? "Reed?"

  Marc prompted. "Um... because the new headmaster is a repressed jackass who's probably never experienced a single moment of

  unadulterated fun in his entire sad life?" I blurted. Marc looked at me, startled, then cracked up laughing. He doubled over and I felt a

  laugh bubble up in my throat as well. Before long we were both laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the sunlit quad.

  "Can I quote you on that?" he asked, his eyes glistening with merry tears. "Probably not a good idea," I replied, grabbing his

  recorder and turning it off. It took a minute for us to regain our breath. It felt so good to laugh, I wanted to keep doing it all afternoon,

  but then I saw something that brought me up short, and my mirth died. Just like that. It was Detective Hauer, and he was striding pur-

  posefully across the quad a number of yards off. I glanced ahead, checking where he was going, and my eyes fell on Josh. Josh, who

  was walking toward Ketlar, completely oblivious to the heat-seeking missile coming his way. All the blood rushed out of my head.

  "Reed? Are you all right?" Marc asked, concerned. I didn't answer. Couldn't. What did Hauer want with Josh? The detective caught

  Josh's attention, and Josh looked around for a moment, as if disbelieving that the man was talking to him. He looked so skittish, so

  frightened in that moment, I just wanted to go over there and get between them. Protect Josh from whatever was about to happen.

  Marc turned around and saw what had caught me so off guard. We both watched as Hauer led Josh back to Hell Hall. Watched un-

  til they disappeared inside. "What's going on? Why would the police want to talk to Josh?" I said, breathless. "It makes sense. He and

  Cheyenne were involved in that whole drug-sex scandal thing right before she died," Marc said pragmatically. "Maybe they think he

  was holding it against her or something." "You know about that?" I demanded. Marc hesitated for a moment, as if snagged. Had he

  been researching me and my past as well as Billings? "Doesn't everyone know about that?" he said finally. I supposed it was possible.

  News did travel fast at Easton. Especially scandalous news. I decided to let it go. Especially considering there were more urgent mat-

  ters at hand. "So you think he's a suspect?" I asked, my heart racing. " I don't," Marc clarified. "But they might."

  "This is insane. I can't believe they're doing this to him again," I said, my words coming out in a rush. "The girl committed suicide.

  Josh didn't do anything. He wouldn't. He--"

  "Reed, it's okay. You don't know what they're doing in there. I'm sorry I said anything," Marc told me, turning around and strad-

  dling the bench so he could face me fully. "Don't jump to conclusions, okay? I'm sure it's fine." I had told Hauer to question Ivy. Ivy,

  not Josh. Had he just completely ignored everything I said? "Reed, if you want to do this interview some other time, I completely un-

  derstand," Marc was saying. Off to my left, I heard a familiar laugh. Gage's laugh. I glanced over at him, hanging with some of his

  Ketlar boys. Gage, of course. Gage had dated Ivy last year, had been fooling around with her as recently as two weeks ago. If there

  was anyone on this campus who knew about Ivy, it was him. "I'm really sorry, Marc. I have to go," I said, standing and gathering up

  my book bag and coffee cup. "Rain check?"

  "Sure," he said, standing as well. "Do you want me to walk you back to your--" But I didn't let him finish. I was already halfway to

  Gage. When I reached him, I grabbed the arm of his trendy wool sweater and dragged him away from his friends. "Backwater Bren-

  nan! What's with the stealth attack?" he asked, yanking his arm away. At first he looked annoyed, but then his eyes lit with conceited

  understanding. "Oh, am I your next conquest?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he looked me up and down. "Sweet." "Ew.

  No." I swallowed back the bile that was oozing its way up my throat and yanked him down next to me on an empty bench. Gage was,

  of course, unfazed by my response. "I have a question about Ivy," I told him. "You mean Ice - Cold Bitch? " he said, clenching his

  jaw as he looked away. Apparently, someone was holding a grudge against his former paramour. Interesting. I hadn't been aware that

  Gage was capable of feelings. Maybe he'd recently seen the Wizard about a heart. "What about her?"

  "What happened to her last year?" I asked. "Why didn't she come back to Easton for her junior year? " "You know, jealousy

  doesn't become you, Reed," Gage told me, his blue eyes sparkling. "You want to get back at Hollis, don't go sniffing around about his

  new lady friend. You have to make him jealous. And I can help with that," he said suggestively, eyeing my legs. God. What was with

  the guys around here? "Did you not catch the 'ew, no'?" I asked him, snapping my knees together. "Now spill."

  Gage rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I'd only be the best you ever had, but your loss. Ivy's grandmother got sick to-

  ward the end of our sophomore year, and she and Ivy were, like, really close, so Ivy decided to go to some school in Boston to be

  close to her. Then this summer the old lady croaked and voila. The prodigal bitch returns to Easton to wreak havoc on all our lives."

  He opened his palms toward the sky with a wry smile. "Happy now?" he asked. Not exactly. This did not add up at all. Ivy as caring

  granddaughte
r? Ivy giving up her whole school life to be there for a member of her family? That so didn't track with the girl I knew.

  The girl who was always ready with an obnoxious comment. The girl who had tried to keep all of Easton out of the most exclusive

  party of the year. The girl who had allegedly broken into said grandmother's house intending to steal something. The girl who had

  dropped a guy who clearly liked her and gone after my guy before I'd had even a day to mourn our relationship. "One more question,"

  I said, unable to stop myself. "Make it quick. I have to take a piss before my club meeting," Gage said. Charming. "Are Ivy and Josh...

  are they, like, serious?" I asked, filleting my heart down the middle and leaving it wide open to his answer. Gage looked at me for a

  moment, and for that one moment I swear I saw actual compassion in his eyes.

  "Please. Ivy is never serious about anyone," he said, standing. Then he turned and faced me and opened his arms. "Besides, the girl

  does have a brain. She'll be coming back for more of this in no time." Gag. But still. I hoped he was right.

  * * *

  "Has everyone come up with a guest list?" I asked that night. Via e-mail, I had reminded each of my Billings sisters that they were

  to create their own lists of invitees for the fund-raiser--friends, family, people with cash. We were getting down to the wire, so I hoped

  that everyone had made time to work on it between classes. "Got it!" Portia announced, holding up her rhinestone-covered PDA as ev-

  eryone else murmured their assent. "Mine's handwritten. Is that bad?" Constance asked, biting her lip. "It doesn't matter what format

  it's in as long as you have one," I replied. "Now I need someone to volunteer to compile them all and cross-reference for any dupli-

  cates. Volunteers?" "I'll do it!" Kiki offered. Her mouth was full of the mini eclair she'd just popped into it, but I got the gist. Vienna

  had ordered up a few dozen delicacies from the French bakery in town, which were now being passed around on silver platters.

  "Great. Everyone get your lists to Kiki by the end of the night," I directed. "We'll also be inviting every Easton alumni under the age

  of sixty-five. Ms. Lewis e-mailed me the list today, and I'll forward that to you as well," I told Kiki. "Okay," Kiki said, taking Con-

  stance's list. "What do I do with all the addresses once I have them?"

  "Actually, I was kind of hoping that maybe you and Astrid could come up with some kind of gorgeous e-mail invite to send to ev-

  eryone," I replied. "We can mock it up now and then just add in the locations once we have them. Sound good?" "I'm in!" Astrid an-

  nounced. "I just got this new design software from my dad that's still in prototype. It's killer," Kiki added. Noelle sat forward in her

  chair and cleared her throat. "E-mail? Really?" she asked, looking up at me like I had suggested fingerpainting the invites. "Isn't that

  sort of gauche?" I felt my fingers start to curl. I had decided to go with her theme. Did she really have to contradict my one piece of

  input in front of everyone? I mean, I know I had flirted with her man and all, but did that mean I was never going to get a say in any-

  thing ever again? No. I wouldn't let her step all over me that way. So I'd flirted with Dash. Last year she'd helped kidnap my boyfriend

  and had left him for dead. I'd say we were even. Until she found out about the fact that I'd almost slept with Dash. That might tip the

  scales in her view. But as of now, she didn't know about that.

  "It's the fastest and cheapest way to reach everyone," I told her patiently. "If we have to get invitations printed and stamped and

  mailed, by the time the guests receive them, it will be two days before the party." Noelle raised her palms. "Point taken." I let out a

  breath. See? She wasn't trying to control things. She was simply voicing an opinion. Way to overreact, Reed. "Okay, I think that's it

  for tonight," I told the room. "If anyone has any suggestions for us before we leave for New York on Saturday, stop by my room and

  let me know." The meeting broke up with everyone gabbing happily and comparing their lists, swiping a few more treats from the

  platters around the room. I suddenly felt too exhausted to move. It was difficult, keeping up appearances and being a leader when my

  mind was on Josh and Hauer and a million other things. It took a lot out of me. Noelle stood, selected a small tart, and wrapped it in a

  linen napkin to bring with her upstairs. I had been hoping for a moment alone with her and was glad she had hung back from the

  crowd. "I swear, with the amount of crap we've been consuming at these meetings, the eating disorders in this place are about to sky-

  rocket," she joked. "Noelle," I said, wiping my palms on my wool skirt, "have you heard anything about Detective Hauer meeting

  with Josh this afternoon?" Noelle smiled sympathetically. "Worried about the boy who dumped you? You're so sweet."

  The boy who dumped me? I'd never told anyone that was how it had happened. Did she know, or did she just assume? Did she

  know more about that night than she had let on? "I didn't-" "I'm just messing with you," Noelle said, stepping toward me. "I heard it

  was just a routine questioning. Because apparently she used the same stuff to off herself as she used to mess with him. There's an ob-

  vious connection." Obvious. Obvious that Cheyenne was a nut job who was capable of anything. Why wouldn't they just chalk her

  death up to suicide and let it go? "Besides, didn't you say you both left campus before they had a chance to question you?" Noelle

  asked, arching her brows. "Maybe they're just now catching up with Hollis as well. If, of course, that was really the reason for your

  visit with the police the other night." My face turned warm. I felt as if she could see right into my brain. "Right. That makes sense."

  Noelle smirked, then instantly shifted gears. "Don't worry, Reed. He'll be fine," she said kindly, soothingly. "He can take care of

  himself." "I know." Or maybe Ivy was taking care of him. "Come on. You can help me with my Spanish. You're one of those dorks

  who love homework, right?" she joked, knocking me with her arm as she passed me by "I'll be right up," I told her. I hoped she was

  right--I hoped Josh was fine without me--but the idea that he could be only made my heart ache worse. As much as I was trying to

  move on and cling to my anger with him over Ivy, I hated not knowing what was going on with him. I hated not being able to be there

  for him. I hated myself for doing this to us.

  LIFE AFTER HOLLIS

  I had never been inside a Drake Hall common room before. It was nice. Cozy. There was a fire in the old stone fireplace, big

  leather chairs all around the room, and the walls were paneled in dark wood. It had the feel of a mountain lodge. Not that I'd ever been

  to a mountain lodge, but I imagined this was how it would feel. Unlike the common room on Josh's floor in Ketlar, there was no big-

  screen TV or boys shouting over a round of Guitar Hero in the corner. The few guys dotted around the room were studying, carrying

  on whispered debates. This was where the real students lived.

  "So, where are you from, anyway?" I asked Marc. I leaned over the open Tupperware box on the table between us, chose one of the

  flaky, homemade desserts his mother had sent him, and leaned back in my comfy leather chair. "We're supposed to be interviewing

  you," Marc reminded me. "I'm bored of me," I replied. "Let's talk about you for a while." Marc smiled and turned off the recorder,

  which sat next to the Tupperware. "I have one more question first, off the record," he said. "Sure," I replied, licking some powdered

  sugar from my lower lip. Whatever I was eat
ing was damn good. "Is this an interview or a date?" he asked. My heart skipped a sur-

  prised beat. "What makes you think it's a date?" Marc looked at the floor and rubbed his hands together shyly. He glanced up with a

  tentative expression. "Constance said something about a list...."

  I laughed and finished off my little pastry. "Trust Constance to stick her nose in. So maybe it is a date." I didn't want it to be a date.

  Not really. I didn't want to be on a date with anyone other than Josh. But that was what this was supposed to be. So I said it. "Is that

  okay with you?" His eyebrows shot up. "Very okay." I felt a bit guilty after that. Like I was giving him false hope. But I soldiered on.

  "Good. So where are you from?" I asked again, reaching for another pastry. "Miami," he replied. I paused mid-bite. When I thought of

  Miami, I thought of neon lights, hot pink spandex, and loud music. Marc was none of these things. His very being screamed New Eng-

  lander. "Really? But you're so--" "Preppy? Ambitious? Sober?" he supplied. "Okay," I said.

  "I never really fit in there," he told me. He leaned back in his chair and laid his arms on top of the chair arms, then started to tap a

  beat on the front of them with both hands. "My older brother, Carlos, was born to live there. All my friends worshipped him because

  he, you know, raced cars and knew all the bouncers and had a different girl over every night and never seemed to actually work a day.

  They thought he was the coolest thing ever. I just thought it was sad. I couldn't wait to get out of there." "Wow," I said. "Too much in-

  formation?" he asked. "No. Not at all. It just sounds familiar," I replied.

  "You have a slutty, drag-racing older brother?" Marc joked. I laughed and reached for my coffee cup. "No. Not that part. Just the

  part where you couldn't wait to get out of there." "Didn't fit in out there in central Pennsylvania?" he asked. My paranoia flared in-

  stantly. "How did you know where I was from?" "Reed, I'm a reporter. I'm doing a story on you. Come on," he said, turning his palms

  up. "I thought the story was more about Billings." "Yeah, and you're president of Billings. The girl who's singlehandedly trying to

  save it," Marc said. Like, duh. "You're kind of central to the story." "Oh. Right." I laughed.

  And as I laughed I realized that I only ever laughed anymore when I was with Marc. I looked at him and he looked at me and I felt

  nothing. Zero tingle. Zero attraction. Zero emotion. He wasn't Josh, but I liked being with him. It made me forget the other stuff. There

  was a definite possibility that this guy could be a good friend. "So. How big's your scholarship?" he asked with a wry smile. "Like I'd

  ever tell you that," I responded, and smacked his arm lightly. "I'll get it out of you eventually," he told me, reaching for one of the pas-

  tries. "It's what I do." I sipped my coffee and settled in. We spent the next hour talking about how surreal it was to be at Easton with-

  out trust funds behind us. Our hopes of breaking into the Ivy League. The crazy birthday gifts our parents cobbled together during

  leaner years. In the end it was one of the most enjoyable nights I'd had in recent memory. And he didn't even try to kiss me at the door.

  As I strolled away from Drake Hall, I felt somehow lighter. I knew that there was definitely going to be life after Josh Hollis.