The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (146 page)

“You know that Noelle booked the St. Sebastian herself,” Sabine said, perching on the edge of her chair. “Who else has the money to pay for the venue
and
bribe them to lie to you?”

My heart tumbled down along my rib cage. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, lie?”

Missy laughed and shook her head as she opened her notebook. It was all I could do to keep from elbowing her in the face.

“We were there, Reed. We all saw their schedule. There was nothing booked for this Saturday,” Sabine said in a soothing tone, like she was explaining a deathly diagnosis to a delicate cancer patient. “The only way this could have happened would be if someone called up
after
we booked it and offered them more money.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, even as my cheeks turned pink with irritation. “She wouldn’t do that.”

I might have been irritated that Noelle always seemed to manage to save the day, but I couldn’t believe she’d actually plot against me. That she would set up a situation just so that she would
have
to swoop in and fix things.

“Yeah. No way,” Constance agreed.

“Oh, please. Would you wake up already?” Missy said incredulously. “Did you not go to school here last year? What would Noelle
not
do to get her way?”

“Nothing,” Sabine agreed. “She couldn’t handle the fact that you made all the decisions this weekend, so she set up a problem so that she could fix it. Now she looks like the hero.”

“It’s perfect, really,” Missy added as Mr. Crandle entered the room, dropping his leather briefcase on his desk. “Diabolical, but perfect.”

“No. I can’t believe she would orchestrate something like this,” I said. “I just—”

“You’re clouded by your friendship,” Sabine whispered, leaning toward me. “But I can see her for what she really is, and trust me, that girl doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Before I could respond, she turned and resolutely faced the front of the room, unwilling to hear more. I glanced at Constance, who simply shrugged.

“Everyone kindly open your books to page one hundred fifteen,” Mr. Crandle announced as he started writing an equation on the board. “I hope you’re all ready to concentrate, because this is going to be an intense day.”

Tell me about it.

I sighed and opened my book, trying to put thoughts of Noelle and the fund-raiser out of my mind, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sabine’s last words. That Noelle didn’t care about anyone but herself.

I was starting to think she might be right.

After classes I walked slowly across the quad, taking my time on my way back to Billings. I thought about stopping for coffee, but didn’t want to feel more jittery than I already did. I thought about going to the library, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on studying. Besides, I was supposed to be helping my friends with the fund-raiser. There was no avoiding it. I had to go home.

But maybe I would just stop for my mail first. And read it all in front of my P.O. box. Even the catalogs. Anything to avoid Billings. Avoid the merriment. And, of course, my room.

Even though there was a murder investigation going on, Billings had suddenly become the most animated space south of the North Pole. My friends, it seemed, had chosen to ignore the morbid and throw themselves into the fund-raiser. To deal with the problem they could actually solve. I should have been happy to
see them rushing home to put together gift bags and make place cards and schedule makeover appointments. I should have felt gratified that everyone was behind my plan. But I wasn’t. I was depressed.

It no longer felt like my plan—it felt like Noelle’s. It no longer felt like my night, considering I couldn’t even bring the guy I wanted to bring. At least I knew that Ivy and Josh wouldn’t be attending the event. No one was more anti-Billings than those two, so I couldn’t imagine either one of them putting up the funds for admission. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to watch them canoodling all night. Of course, that also meant they’d be back here at Easton, with practically the whole campus to themselves. They could canoodle all over the place if they wanted to.

Great. Now I was even more depressed.

Part of me was actually looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving next week. Go figure.

I shoved open the post office door and walked over to my mailbox, quickly working the lock. Inside there was only one envelope—large, red, and square—with my name and address printed in gold. Intrigued, I tore right into it. The lining of the envelope was purple, and the invitation inside was round and black.

An invitation to Kiran Hayes’s eighteenth birthday party.

My heart leapt as if I’d just been accepted to Harvard. Kiran remembered me. She had actually included me in her plans.

I went to shove the invite back in the envelope and noticed a
piece of heavy white card stock nestled inside. The initials
K. H.
were stamped at the top. Underneath was a handwritten note from Kiran.

Reed,

It’s been TOO long. Please come. Would love to catch up.

x’s,

Kiran

Okay. So maybe things were finally starting to look up. Grinning from ear to ear, I walked back to the doors. Standing at the counter near the exit was Marc, picking up a rather large package. His face lit up when he saw me. Which was nice.

“Hey!” he said, sliding the box off the counter and wrapping both arms around it in front of him. His fingers barely made it around the sides. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just picked up my mail,” I replied. “That’s a big box.”

“My grandmother. She thinks I’m going to freeze to death up here, so every winter she sends me a whole mess of homemade sweaters. She even took a knitting class so she could make them look more professional, since I go to school with all those, quote, ‘fashion plates.’”

God, he was so normal. And sweet, actually appreciating his grandmother and all. If I couldn’t go to the fund-raiser with Josh, this was the person I wanted to go with. Someone who wouldn’t spend all night seeking my attention or looking down my dress or getting drunk off his ass and being an embarrassment. And so I just said it.

“Marc, do you want to be my date for the fund-raiser?” I asked.

His eyebrows shot up and he readjusted the box, tossing it up to get a better grip near the bottom. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I’d be honored,” he replied with a grin. “Escorting the woman of the hour. It would be my extreme pleasure.”

I laughed. It was nice to hear that someone I actually respected thought of me that way. “Thanks. I’ll, um . . . I’ll give you all the info tomorrow.”

I would have e-mailed it to him, but I had that whole computer-avoidance issue.

“Sounds good,” Marc replied, starting past me, awkwardly managing the box and his hefty backpack, which had slid down and now hung from his elbow. “Thanks for asking me.”

“Thanks for saying yes,” I replied with a smile.

As Marc hobbled out, I felt about ten times better. I was invited to Kiran’s party, and I had a date for the fund-raiser, with someone I might actually want to talk to, at that. I knew the Billings Girls wouldn’t approve—they would have preferred a Hunter Braden, even if he was a jackass—but at that moment I didn’t care. Maybe it was time for this Billings president to start doing things her own way.

When I walked into Billings, Noelle was standing near the fireplace in the foyer with Tiffany and the Twin Cities while Sabine, Constance, Kiki, and Astrid pored over a printout of the guest list. Noelle turned and her eyes went right to the invitation, which was still clutched in my hand.

“Oh, good. You got one. I thought I was going to have to text Kiran and remind her to invite you,” she said.

All the blood in my body rushed right to my head and started to boil. Like I needed her help to land an invite. Like I would be nowhere without her.

“So, Reed,” Noelle continued, as if she hadn’t just insulted me, “since the whole night is about glamour, we were talking about maybe hiring some models to just circulate around the room and look hot. What do you think of—”

Without a word, I turned and stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I could practically feel the hushed surprise at my rudeness following me all the way up to my room, but I didn’t care. I was so sick of Noelle. So sick of her constantly trying to put me in my place. As if she could define what my place was. Maybe last year. Maybe last year I had let her do that. But not anymore.

The door opened behind me and I whirled around, expecting to find Noelle walking in without a knock as always. But it was Sabine. A very timid-looking Sabine.

“What was that?” she half-whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Actually, no. I’m not,” I blurted, throwing my coat down on my bed. “I’m starting to think you’re right about Noelle. I mean, I always just figured that her little digs and stuff were just part of her personality, and I let them roll off my back or whatever, but now I’m starting to wonder why I need to be friends with a person who treats people like that. When does it stop? When do we become good enough friends that she stops wanting to make me feel like shit?”

I had no idea there was so much venom inside of me until it started spewing out. I took a deep breath and looked at the floor.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe the only person she cares about is herself.”

“Well, have you ever seen her be consistently nice to any of her friends?” Sabine asked.

I thought back to last year. Back to her random jabs at Taylor and that whole incident with Kiran and her Dreck boy. She certainly
hadn’t treated either of those so-called BFFs with much respect. But then there was the other.

“Ariana,” I said bitterly. “She’s the only one Noelle never put down.”

Sabine stared at me. I knew the name didn’t hold as much power with her as it did with me, but she had heard the story. She knew enough to know that Ariana was an interesting choice when it came to showing loyalty.

“If one of your friends has you paranoid . . . constantly walking around wondering when she’s going to choose to backstab you . . . then that person isn’t much of a friend,” Sabine said finally, biting her lip.

And she had a very good point. Last year I had needed Noelle and the other Billings Girls. Their friendship had seemed so important to me—to helping me leave my old life behind and become the person I wanted to be here at Easton. But now I
was
that person. I was Billings president. And all those other girls were gone. Everyone but Noelle. Did I really need her hanging around, constantly reminding me of how lucky I was to know her?

Definitely not.

The door opened.

“Reed, we have to talk,” Noelle said.

I looked at her. Looked at Sabine. My chest was heaving from all my running and ranting. My heart pounded in my ears. What to say? How to handle this?

“Do you mind?” Noelle said to Sabine.

“She can stay,” I snapped. “This
is
her room, not yours. This house is not yours. I may have thought it was once, but I was wrong. It doesn’t all belong to you. We don’t all belong to you.”

Noelle took a deep breath. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me “Okay. So obviously you’re pissed off about something.”

My skin tingled as I faced off with her. I felt like I was about to go into battle. Like I was Russell Crowe in that gladiator movie my brother was so obsessed with, standing just outside the gates of the Colosseum, listening to the crowd that was salivating for my blood.

“Try a lot of things,” I replied.

“You still think I’m trying to take over,” Noelle theorized. Sabine quietly moved away and sat down on the edge of her desk chair from the side, watching us.

“You’re not?”

Noelle rolled her eyes and tipped her head back. “Reed, we both have the same goal here. We’re both just trying to save Billings. God, this is more for you than me. You’re still going to be here next year. Do you
want
to spend your senior year in Pemberly?”

“That’s not what this is about. This is about you trying to sabotage me,” I replied, crossing my arms as well.

“Sabotage you?” Noelle’s face screwed up in confusion. “What are you smoking?”

“Did you or did you not call back Cheryl after we left and convince
her to say the place was booked?” I demanded, my face hot at my own audacity.

Noelle appeared shocked. But was she? “What?”

“I think you did. I think you knew all along that the St. Sebastian was going to fall through and that’s why you booked Loft Blanc,” I told her. “It’s vintage Noelle. Not only do you get your way, but you get to swoop in and look like the hero to everyone in the process.”

“You’re cracked!” Noelle said sharply. “I would never do something like that.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you?” I shot back.

Noelle took a deep breath and pushed her hands through her hair, lifting it back from her face. “Okay. Don’t get me wrong. There’s a lot I’d do to get my way, but do you have any idea what a huge waste that would have been? My family may have a lot of money, Reed, but we didn’t get where we are by burning huge piles of it for no apparent reason.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Look, I only booked Loft Blanc because I’ve been through this before,” Noelle told me, lifting a hand. “Two summers ago, my cousin’s wedding got canceled the week before the ceremony because the place she booked went under. It was a total nightmare. Ever since then my mother has booked two venues for every important party we’ve hosted. And I think you know that this is one hell of an important party.”

I stared at Noelle’s face. For once her expression was completely
without guile. She looked almost desperate. Desperate for me to believe her. And, to be honest, I’d never heard her try to explain herself so vehemently in my life.

“Swear you didn’t book the St. Sebastian,” I demanded.

Sabine shifted in her seat, and I knew she was annoyed that I was caving, but I ignored her.