As Natasha and I padded back down the hallway after our manicures and pedicures in our spa-issue slippers, I was perfectly relaxed. My face tingled, my nails were thick with polish, and my feet were softer than pillows. Was this how Kiran and the other girls felt all the time, just walking around on a normal day? Because if so, I could almost understand why they acted so superior. I felt undeniably beautiful.
I wished Thomas could see me. And when I wished it, sorrow seeped into my heart. But it was a softer kind of sorrow than the red-hot anger and confusion I had been feeling for so long. It was a nostalgic, wistful sorrow. A kind that didn't send me hurtling over the edge.
"So, was this a good idea?" Natasha whispered. There was something about the hushed, opulent vibe of this place that made a person want to whisper. "I wasn't sure."
"It was a great idea," I told her. "I almost feel like myself again. Whatever that means."
110
Natasha's freshly waxed brows came together. "I don't think anyone really knows what that means."
"I don't know if that makes me feel better or if it's just really, really sad," I replied. We both smirked. Deep conversations were for another time.
I pushed open the slatted door to the locker area and stopped. Instantly, I recognized the distinct snorts and sniffles of Taylor's sobs. Natasha and I exchanged a look and neither of us moved. A silent agreement. Suddenly I felt all kinds of close to her. We were conspiring together. Me and Natasha. Considering how much conspiring had been done all around and about me since my arrival at Easton, it felt sort of good to be on the other side.
"It's going to be okay," Kiran said in a soothing voice. I'd never heard her sound so gentle. "Taylor, please. Just try to calm down."
Taylor gasped in a breath. "I just... I just... I just. . . can't--"
"I can't take this anymore," Noelle said. "Taylor, I swear to God, if you don't freaking chill the hell out in the next five seconds, I cannot be held responsible for the shit fit I'm going to throw."
Taylor whimpered, like a hungry dog that had just been kicked by its master. Natasha's and my eyes met. All right, enough was enough. I was "one of them" now, wasn't I? Hadn't they told me that a dozen times? No more secrets and all of that. I had to know what was going on in there.
And saving Taylor from whatever Noelle's "shit fit" would bring seemed like a wise idea.
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"Hey, guys!" I said, striding into the small room as if I had just walked in. Natasha, on the ball as ever, fell right in behind me. I looked around at Noelle, Taylor, Ariana, and Kiran, who stood in a square in the center of the room. "Everything okay?"
Taylor turned away from me and ran for the bathroom.
> "Where did you come from?" Kiran asked.
"We just got back and I heard Taylor crying," I said. "What's wrong?"
"She's just freaking out because she was rejected from that summer program at Harvard," Noelle said, turning to her locker. "She just called home and found out."
"Getting in would have guaranteed her a spot in their freshman class year after next," Ariana explained. "She so wants to go there," she added, looking pityingly toward the bathroom.
"And on top of everything else that's been happening ..." Kiran said.
I instantly felt horrible for begrudging Taylor all her tears and mood swings. Somehow I had forgotten that every one of us had other stuff going on. All Taylor's notebooks and folders were stamped with the Harvard University logo. I knew she wanted to go there more than anything and that everyone at Easton, and in her family, expected her to. There was a lot of pressure on her to succeed. Maybe Thomas's death was just screwing with her already raw emotions.
"That sucks," Natasha said. She crossed the room and opened her own locker. "But there has to be someone she could talk to. It's not like we have no connections at Harvard."
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Right. Didn't being a Billings Girl guarantee things like this? Automatic acceptance to whatever one wanted acceptance to?
"That's a good point, Natasha," Ariana said, sounding oddly detached. "We should look into that when we get back."
Natasha and I exchanged a look. There was something weird about the way they were all talking. It was too antiseptic. Too clipped.
"And she could still get in next year, right?" I suggested. "It's just not a given."
"Very true," Noelle said calmly, turning away from me to pack her bag. "You should remind her of that when we get in the car."
"Okay," I said. "Maybe I will."