Ambition Page 4

"I've talked to him," I said. My words had the desired effect. Suddenly Constance sat up straight and looked at me all bright-eyed.

  "You have?" "Yeah," I said with a casual shrug. "And I liked him." "Omigod, yay!" Constance exclaimed, dropping her spoon. "So

  are you going to ask him out? " "Ew! No!" Vienna exclaimed as she wrapped her thick hair back in a ponytail. Her massive breasts

  bulged forth from her low-cut shirt as she did so, and a freshman boy tripped himself as he walked by. Vienna didn't seem to notice.

  "Reed, you cannot start with what's-his-face. If you do, then last night was totally pointless."

  "His name is Marc," Constance said, gaining confidence from my backup. "And he's totally sweet and the most determined reporter

  on the paper, and he's cute, too--I think." Constance was editor-in-chief of the Easton Chronicle and therefore had this whole other life

  I knew almost nothing about, which included friendships with people like Marc. "Good. Then you go straddle the guy," London said.

  She was now working on her own ponytail. Heaven forbid the Twin Cities should be seen without matching hair. Constance blushed

  and fell silent again. "I don't want to straddle him," she said, making a choking noise in the back of her throat. "I have Whit."

  "Good, then you go straddle him, and let us help Reed snag someone worthy of the Billings president," Noelle replied. "Exactly.

  Just not Trey Prescott," Astrid put in. Noelle smiled triumphantly. Her plan was working. "Why not Trey?" London said. "He's a total

  hottie." "True, but the last person he dated was Cheyenne," Astrid said, popping a grape into her mouth. "Reed's already taken over

  the presidency. Wouldn't dating Trey be a bit too morbid?" For a long moment no one spoke. My heart felt sick. What was Astrid im-

  plying? That I was trying to take Cheyenne's place? I knew she and Cheyenne had been friends for years, but she had told me they

  were never that close. So this was an odd comment to make. Was she upset with me for taking the presidency and running with it? Up-

  set enough, perhaps, to plant black marbles in my desk drawer?

  "What?" Astrid said innocently as everyone looked at her. "I'm just saying I think people would talk." "Okay. Moving on..." Noelle

  said, shaking her head incredulously. "Hunter is right over there, Reed," Tiffany said, leaning in from the far end of the table. "Why

  don't you go talk to him?" I glanced over at Hunter, who sat at one of the smaller tables with Trey and West, looking as hot as ever in

  a striped shirt and semi- destroyed blazer. My eyes instantly flicked to Josh's usual table, but he wasn't there. Still, that feeling of long-

  ing in my heart told me all I needed to know. "I just can't, you guys," I said. "I'm not ready to--"

  The cafeteria doors opened, and this time I looked right away. The entire cafeteria seemed to screech to a standstill as Josh Hollis

  and Ivy Slade strode through those doors together. He was wearing my favorite sweater of his--high-collared and gray--and looked

  amazing, his dark blond curls all tousled by the wind. She looked like a witch in her slim black coat, her raven hair parted down the

  middle. A gorgeous witch, but a witch nonetheless. A witch whose head was bent so close to Josh's as they walked and whispered, I

  saw their temples brush. As I sat there, catatonic, the pair of them strolled right by me. Right by me without a glance. I felt like I was

  going to retch. "They're not--" I couldn't even finish the sentence. "I don't know. They have been hanging out a lot the last couple of

  days," Missy sang, sounding happy to impart the gossip.

  No. Not possible. Why Ivy? Why did it have to be Ivy? Did he hate me that much? "Are you all right?" Sabine asked me. "She's

  fine," Noelle replied for me. She leaned across the table. "What you're feeling right now, Reed? You need to use that. Get up and go

  over to Hunter. You don't have to marry the guy. You just have to talk to him long enough to make Josh green." "She's right," Shelby

  put in, checking her brows in a compact. "God put hot boys on this earth for this very purpose." Josh and Ivy emerged from the break-

  fast line together. Walked to a table together. Sat down together. Alone. Apparently he was not going to wake up one day and forgive

  me. Was not going to realize that me hooking up with Dash while drunk was right on par with him hooking up with Cheyenne while

  drugged. Apparently he was just going to move on. With the girl I loathed most at Easton.Screw him. Screw. Him.

  "Fine," I said. I pushed myself up and pressed my hands into the table for a moment, steadying my knees. "I'm going." I turned,

  cleared my throat, and tossed my hair over my shoulder. This gave the entire cafeteria time to take notice. To see that the Billings

  president was on the move. In the beginning the fact that everyone was constantly watching me had been disturbing, but today I would

  use it. Today everyone would be talking about how Reed Brennan made her move on Hunter Braden. Slowly, I strolled toward

  Hunter's table, my heart pounding sickly in my chest. Even with all of the eyes in the room watching me, I could feel Josh's on my

  back. You think Ivy hurts ? Try this.

  Hunter looked up as I approached. I pulled out the chair across from his and sat slowly, gracefully. Trey and West didn't seem to

  know what to make of me. They both just stared. "Reed Brennan," Hunter said. Even through all the misery and posturing, it killed me

  the way he said my full name. So. Hot. "Knew you'd come around." "I know a good offer when I see one," I replied smoothly.

  Hunter's smile widened. West looked grim for a moment, thinking, probably, that I had blown him off because I liked Hunter, but then

  he and Trey started up their own private conversation. He hadn't texted me yet, as he had promised, and I supposed he wouldn't now.

  Oh well. I could only deal with one high-profile conquest at a time anyway.

  Hunter produced his BlackBerry from his pocket. He slid it across to me, then folded his hands on the table. "Give me your digits."

  I picked it up, leaning my elbows on the table so that the Black- Berry would be more visible, and slowly typed in my numbers. It was

  at that moment that Josh got up and stormed out of the dining hall, leaving Ivy all alone. One gulp of guilt. Just one. That was all I al-

  lowed myself. And after that, I just felt good. Really good. Maybe it's wrong, but I did. Josh was canoodling with the enemy. And af-

  ter all, I'm only human.

  * * *

  That afternoon after class, I walked back to Billings to change for my final soccer game of the season, my head bent as I hungrily

  read Vanity Fair--the novel, not the magazine--which was the new assignment for English class. I had read the book before and hated

  it. Now I couldn't for the life of me remember why. It was a good thing that people had started to dodge out of my way wherever I

  went, like we all used to do as freshmen back at Croton High when the seniors appeared in the hall. Otherwise I would have been

  blindly mowing people over. "Reed! Reed! Wait up!"

  I ripped myself out of Becky Sharpe's world and back into my own. Students peppered the walks and the doorways of dorms, chat-

  ting before club meetings and practices and study sessions. I was halfway across the quad, between the class building and Billings, and

  had been about to trip over a stone bench. Good thing whoever was calling me had stopped me.

  "Hey!" Jason Darlington jogged up to me, his cheeks ruddy from the cold and exertion. His shaggy, reddish-brown hair fell perfect-

  ly in place, the bangs almost covering his blue eyes. Jason was cute in that innocuous Disney Channel way. He had, in fact, been a

  child actor, but had nev
er hit the big time. "How do you walk so fast and read at the same time?" he asked with a smile. "Special tal-

  ent," I replied. "What's up? Did you miss the English assignment?" "Nah, I was just curious why you agreed to go out with Hunter

  Braden," Jason said, tossing his bangs back. They fell right back into place. "You deserve better." Okay, presumptuous. How did this

  guy know what I deserved? But still, I realized he was complimenting me, so I let it go. "I mean, did you notice that the only pronoun

  in his vocabulary is I?" Jason joked. I laughed. "He does have a bit of a self-confidence issue. In that he has too much." "Exactly," Ja-

  son said, exhibiting some adorable dimples. "So forget about him and go out with me instead. I promise I've heard of the word you."

  Okay, was it just me, or had three cute, popular guys just asked me out in the space of three days? Even for a Billings Girl, this was

  pushing it. I narrowed my eyes, recalling that Jason was number three on our eligible-bachelor list, right after Hunter and Dominic.

  "Did London put you up to this?" I asked, tucking my book into my bag. Hunter was Vienna's pick, after all. And as much as the

  Twin Cities loved to copy each other, they could be competitive, too. Maybe London had put Jason on my case to try to thwart Vienna

  and Hunter. But Jason's expression was one of total confusion. "London? London Simmons?" he said. "I don't think I've talked to that

  girl since we did summer stock at that regional theater in Bucks County together three years ago." Wait a minute. London did summer

  stock? Hello, left field. I never knew she was an actress. I had to file that one away for later. I eyed Jason to see if he was making this

  up, but he wasn't that good an actor.

  "So, what do you say? You. Me. Library. Thursday night? We can study for the English exam together," Jason suggested eagerly. I

  hesitated for a moment, thinking of Josh. Wondering what he would think of me if he spotted me with Hunter one day and Jason the

  next. But then, what did I care? Josh was done with me and had moved on to Ivy. I could do what I wanted. I was single. I was the

  president of Billings. And Jason was ridiculously adorable. "Sure," I said. "I'm in." "Great!" Jason's face lit up. "I'll meet you in the li-

  brary at seven- thirty." "Perfect." He jogged off so jauntily I half expected him to suddenly break into song. I turned around, feeling

  pretty good about myself, until I found myself face-to-face with Ivy Slade.

  "What do you want?" I snapped automatically. "I just wanted to tell you it's not going to work," Ivy said, her blue eyes boring into

  mine. "This little fund-raiser of yours. We're all so sick of you people and your entitlement complex. Everyone at this school wants to

  see you fail, and we're going to make sure that you do." My face burned. "Is that a threat?" "It's a fact," Ivy replied with a smirk.

  "Even your perfect ex is with me on this one. You really destroyed him, Reed. Noelle must be so proud of her little prodigy." I wanted

  to strangle her for mentioning Josh, but I somehow managed to keep my composure. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "What is

  your problem with Billings?" I demanded. "What did we ever do to you? "

  Ivy turned slightly and glanced back at my dorm. Noelle, London, Vienna, Portia, and Shelby were hanging around outside, loung-

  ing on the low stone walls that led up to the door. Ivy's jaw clenched, her skin as white as ivory. For a split second, I saw so much pain

  in her eyes that I practically felt it. But then she turned her back on Billings and she was Ivy again. Cold, disaffected Ivy. "Plenty," she

  responded, looking me dead in the eye, her expression fierce. As she spun on her heel and stalked off, I was left wondering what, ex-

  actly, my Billings sisters might have done to inspire that kind of anger. Was it real or just something Ivy had perceived? I had no idea,

  but someone in that house knew. And that someone was going to spill.

  BLAME GAME

  It was our final soccer game of the season against Barton School, and we were deadlocked at zero. Almost ninety minutes of soccer

  played and nothing to show for it. As I raced up the field with the ball, all I could think about was scoring. I had to score before the

  whistle. I had to win. I needed this. A cold wind whipped all stray hair back from my face toward my ponytail as I charged forward.

  The scrappy defender who had been giving me trouble all day raced toward me from the right. She slid for the ball, but I popped my

  toe under it at the last second and it sailed right over her outstretched leg. She was still ground-bound, so in the next moment I had to

  vault myself over her, too. Somehow I ended up on my feet with the ball, while she was still in the dirt. The crowd on the Easton side-

  lines--larger than normal, since it was the last game of the year, I assumed--went crazy. "Nice move, Brennan!" someone shouted. I

  just kept going. Score. I had to score. Ten yards from the goal. Five. The goalie was watching me like a hawk. Still, I had figured out

  her weakness. Too short. No wingspan. If I could kick it into the upper corner above her head, glory would be mine. I could see the

  shot in my mind. Could see the ball sailing past her outstretched fingers. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Noelle. She

  was open on the other side of the field. Somehow she had evaded her defender, who was now sprinting toward her from behind.

  Noelle was a senior. This was her final game. And the timing was perfect. I wanted to score, but an assist would be just as good. I

  glanced into the upper corner of the net where I would have kicked the ball. The goalie bought it and scooted to her right. Instead, I

  sent the ball zooming across to Noelle, who lobbed it easily into the net behind the goalie's back. The girl reacted, but it was far too

  late. By the time she dove, the ball was already hitting rope. "Yes!" Noelle cheered

  We all sprinted over to pile on her as the whistle blew. Game over. An Easton win. Noelle had gotten to score the winning goal in

  the final game of her prep school career. Thanks to me. "Nice pass," she said as I clasped her hand. She gave me a knowing look, and

  I knew she realized what I had done for her. "Nice goal," I replied. As we made our way over to the stands with the rest of the team,

  slapping backs and smiling, I noticed for the first time that there was something off about the crowd. There were more parents in at-

  tendance than usual, there to cheer on their graduating daughters, but the rest of the crowd was made up of guys. Almost exclusively.

  On both sides. Not only had the Easton men come out in droves, but the Barton men were also well represented. Normally the stands

  were almost empty for our games, and certainly guys had never been a big contingent. What was the deal?

  "Nice moves, Brennan!" one of the senior guys shouted as we all made for the water jug. "I like a team player!" another called out

  to me. At that, a couple dozen guys applauded and whistled and hooted, all directing their attention at me. Even the Barton guys were

  clapping for me. I caught Jason Darlington hooting in my direction with a knowing smile, as if we were sharing some private thought,

  though what that would be I had no idea. My skin was already red from exertion, but now an embarrassed blush fueled it further.

  "Okay, what's going on?" I asked Sabine as she handed me a cup of water. Sabine had gone out for soccer at the beginning of the year,

  but Coach Lisick had decided that her talents were more suited for the position of team assistant. She got into the game every once in a

  while--it was an Easton rule that everyone got some playing time--but only when we were winning hugely or losing hugely.

 
"They're all here for you," she whispered to me. "They've been talking about you throughout the game." "Seriously?" I asked,

  glancing around at the dozens of faces, some familiar, some not. "That's what happens when the hottest girl at Easton suddenly hits the

  market," Noelle said, resting her forearm on my shoulder and leaning into me as she checked them out. "Salivating boys come from

  all over." I'd had no idea it was possible to be so mortified and so flattered all at once. As I looked around, I saw random guys jostling

  for a better look at me. Like I was a celebrity or something. Floppy-haired boys, crew-cut boys, tallboys, shortboys, cute boys, hot-

  boys, scrawny boys, chubby boys. All of them smiling at me. Checking me out. After a few seconds I had to turn away. It was too

  bizarre. "I'm gonna go... get some ChapStick before we shake hands," I mumbled to my friends.

  I walked to the far end of the Easton bleachers, hoping to duck out of sight and dig through my soccer bag for a few moments to get

  a breather. As soon as I came around the side, though, I stopped in my tracks. Astrid was crouched down in the pile of duffel bags and

  gym bags, pawing through my stuff.

  For a long moment, I didn't say anything. My heart all but stopped. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Why was she going

  through my things? Was Astrid the one who had blackballed me? Was she leaving something else in my soccer bag? I thought we

  were friends. I opened my mouth to speak, but at that exact moment she finally stood. There was something in her hand, but I couldn't

  tell what it was. She turned, saw me standing there, and nearly tripped herself. Snagged. "You startled me!" she said with a laugh.

  "What were you doing in my bag?" I demanded. Her smile faltered, as if she was confused by my tone. "I guess you caught me,"

  she said, flashing her palm. "I stole a barrette." She held up her palm. One of my plain snap barrettes sat in her hand. "Sorry. My

  bangs are driving me crazy," she said, flipping her short, sweaty hair back to illustrate how the bangs fell right back into her eyes. "I

  just wanted something to pin them for the team meeting. Is that okay?" I glanced at the bag again, trying to decide whether to believe

  her. It was a simple enough explanation, but my suspicious side was on high alert these days. "Sure," I said finally. "No problem."

  Astrid smiled awkwardly and started past me.

  As she walked off to join the team, I dropped onto my butt on the ground, pulling my bag into my lap. Quickly but carefully, I re-

  moved everything. My sweatshirt, my towel, my water bottle, my extra shin guards. I even opened the smaller nylon pouch where I

  kept my key, ChapStick, and hair bands. Everything was there except that one barrette. And there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  When the bag was empty, I turned it upside down and shook it, checking to see if anything would fall out. Nothing. The bag was

  clean. I looked up and saw Astrid highfiving Bernadette Baskin. Sure, Astrid had always been nice to me, a friend. But with every-

  thing that had been going on lately, I couldn't be too careful. It looked like I was just going to have to get used to being suspicious all

  the time. At least until I figured out who was to blame.

  ENTWINED

  After the soccer game, we got down to business. If we were going to throw this fund-raiser, it was time to get serious. I called a