She was practically wedged into her gray suit, and her dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore no jewelry and, after giving us a quick once-over, didn't look very pleased at the prospect of dealing with a pair of teenagers. Noelle cleared her throat and stepped forward, and I was suddenly more than grateful for her presence. I hated dealing with snooty salespeople. Back home in Croton, I was sometimes too intimidated to even walk into the Gap. "Yes. We're trying to find out who ordered this invitation," Noelle said, sliding the Legacy invite across the tall wooden counter. The woman picked it up, turned it over for a cursory glance, then placed it down again. She used all four fingertips to slide it determinedly back to Noelle. "Sorry. All orders are confidential," she sniffed.
Noelle looked the woman up and down, and for a brief moment I thought she was going to raise holy hell, but then she smiled. She smiled the most genuine smile I'd ever seen from Noelle before in my life. "I understand," she said. "It's just... these girls at our school?" she said, gesturing at me over her shoulder. "They're throwing this exclusive party, and they're purposely leaving out all these other girls, you know? Just because they're, like, a little chunky or have bad skin or come from the wrong families. It's, like, totally arbitrary. "
It was all I could do not to laugh. Noelle was doing a pitch-perfect imitation of Constance. Sweet, innocent Constance Talbot. Her own polar opposite. I had to turn away so the woman wouldn't notice the reddening of my face. "That's awful!" the woman lamented, suddenly sympathetic. Unbelievable. In ten seconds Noelle had read this woman perfectly and knew exactly what would make her crack. "All we want to do is find out which girl is really orchestrating all this so that we can, you know, confront her," Noelle continued pleadingly as I looked over my shoulder. "It's so unfair." The woman looked Noelle and me up and down. "Hang on. You two weren't invited?" she asked suspiciously. My heart skipped a beat. Clearly she had read Noelle right back. She was far too gorgeous and well dressed ever to be ostracized based on looks or money. "No, no. We were invited," Noelle said, turning her eyes down modestly. "That's why we have the invitation. It's just a lot of our friends were left out, and it's not like we'd go without them. We want to stand up to this girl on their behalf. There is a little thing called loyalty, you know? " The woman still looked unconvinced. This wasn't going to work after all. Then Noelle leaned into the counter and looked earnestly into the woman's eyes.
"Look, two years ago, I never would have been invited. We're talking glasses, bad skin, overbite. Not a pretty sight." I didn't believe any of that for a second, but she painted an interesting picture. "I know how it feels to be left out, and I'm just trying to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone I care about," Noelle continued. "So can you help us?" The saleslady checked the back of the room, where her colleague was still engrossed. "Okay. But if anyone asks, you didn't get this from me," she said. She turned to her computer and quickly typed in some information. I rejoined Noelle at the counter, amazed. She held out her hand to me, behind her and out of sight, and I quickly swiped my own palm across it. "Ah, yes. I took this order myself," the woman whispered. "I remember this girl. Blond, thin, blue eyes. About your age, I'd say. She had this sort of odd, detached way about her. Sound familiar?"
A chill shot right through me. Noelle and I looked at each other. Yes, it sounded familiar. But it couldn't possibly be. Noelle cleared her throat. "Maybe," she said. "Do you have her name?" "Yes. It was--" The woman leaned toward us and lowered her voice until it was barely audible. "Amanda Hold." Noelle's eyes lit up, and she bit back a smirk. Did she know this girl? "Do you remember anything else? "she asked. "Was anyone with her? Or did she call anyone while she was here? "Actually, yes," the woman said, speaking in a more normal voice. "I remember she told someone on the phone that she was going to Ungari Jewelers later that day."
Noelle slipped the invite back into her bag. "Thank you so much, Miss... ?" "Roxanne," the woman said, reaching her hand out to shake Noelle's. "I hope this Amanda girl gets what's coming to her." Noelle smiled again, this time looking more like herself. "Oh, she will. Don't worry. We'll make sure of that."
* * *
"Nice work," I said to Noelle as we walked along Commonwealth. "Like taking veggies away from a big, fat baby," she replied with a smirk. Okay, rude. But whatever. The phrase "taking candy from a baby" had never made sense to me anyway. Wouldn't that be hard to do? "So who's Amanda Hold? You know her?" Noelle laughed. "Reed, please. Amanda Hold?" She looked at me in a leading way. I stared back. "A. Man. To. Hold? Amanda Hold? It's one of the oldest aliases in the book." "Oh," I said, feeling stupid. "Why would someone use a fake name at a stationer? " A twist of dread knotted up my stomach as I recalled Roxanne's description of Amanda. She had described Ariana perfectly. And of all people, Ariana had good reasons to make up a name. But no, it wasn't possible. Ariana was locked up in a mental institution somewhere, wasn't she? Locked up for life. "Stop thinking what you're thinking," Noelle said firmly. "There are a million blond-haired, blue-eyed girls with blank stares in this world. It's a cliche for a reason. And Ariana is safely tucked away in her padded cell. Though it's probably padded with Prada."
She swung open a large, silver door to a stately looking shop. I hesitated for a moment before following. It was the first time she had directly mentioned Ariana--her former best friend--since she'd returned to Easton, and it brought up a zillion questions. But as a Hulk-size security guard stared me down from just inside the door, now didn't seem like the time to ask. "In or out, miss?" he said to me gruffly. "In. I'm in," I replied. Inside, the air was crisply cool, and everything was gray. Gray carpeting, gray walls, gray felt inside hundreds of gleaming glass cases. Everywhere I looked there were diamonds. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, and on and on. In one case there was a pink diamond the size of a quarter set into an ornate necklace of tiny white diamonds set to look like a string of flowers. Thousands of diamonds. I couldn't imagine wearing something that exquisite and expensive on my neck. I'd have to take Krav Maga classes first or I'd never feel safe.
"Reed. Look at this." Noelle waved me over. "Third one from the back." Her fingertip hovered over the case, making no contact between skin and glass. She was pointing to a square-cut diamond, gorgeous, huge, set high on a ring of pinpoint-size diamonds that lined the entire band. I swallowed back the sudden taste of acid in my throat. Engagement rings. She was looking at engagement rings.
I surreptitiously glanced at her profile. Her eyes were bright, her expression almost dreamy. Was she thinking of Dash? Why did the very idea make me ill? "Can I help you, ladies? Perhaps take something out for you?" The elderly gentleman behind the counter spoke in a hushed baritone. Apparently rich people really liked quiet in their stores. Noelle started to speak, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. One, because I was partially scared she was, in fact, going to start trying on engagement rings. Two, because if she was going to try to work the guy, I wanted my chance first. This was, after all, supposed to be my mission. Not hers. "I'm Amanda Hold," I told him. "I placed an order a couple weeks back and I just wanted to check on the status." "Of course, Ms. Hold. This way," he said with a nod. We followed him to a computer tucked away in a corner. Apparently I could get over my fear of salespeople when I was feeling territorial.
A few keystrokes and "my" order popped up. "Yes. I see we have three hundred and twenty-five platinum money clips on order for you, as well as four hundred and seven gold rings. All etched with a single!." My throat was dry. This was it. The Legacy token. This so-called Amanda girl was really running the show. "Yes. That's right," I managed to say. "They should all be delivered to the address you provided within the week," he told me with a kind smile. The address! Perfect! That was all we needed. "And what--" This time Noelle's hand on my arm stopped me. "You wanted to add to the order, didn't you, Amanda?" she said pointedly. She reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny piece of paper on which some numbers were scribbled. "We'll need fifty-three more money clips and sixty-five rings," Noelle said. "And I'll be paying for those myself. Amanda's already done enough," she added with a bright smile.
"Of course," the man said with another nod. "If I could just get your credit card and delivery information, Miss... ?" "Lange. Noelle Lange," Noelle replied, slapping down her American Express Black. Once the order was placed and we were back out in the fresh air, I realized my near mistake. Amanda Hold wouldn't have had to ask the guy for her own address. I'd almost given us away. I was really going to have to work on my undercover talents. Or at least not go on these missions after four mimosas. "So, why fifty-three and sixty-five?" I asked Noelle as we strolled up Commonwealth again. "That should cover current legacies and young alumni. Plus all the Billings Girls," Noelle said matter-of-factly. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear that had been tossed free by a cool breeze. "You're welcome." "What?" I blurted. "You didn't."
"I did. I take care of my own," she said, lacing her arm through mine. She casually checked out a window display as we strolled by. "I can't believe you're going to mess with the Legacy rules." Noelle paused and looked me in the eye. "This Amanda Hold person messed with them first," she said, slipping her dark sunglasses over her eyes. "Now it's our turn."
OFF AGAIN
The shop was called Flourish, and it was so exclusive it was marked only by a gold plate on the brick outer wall that listed its address and 1912 as its date of establishment. Walking through the door, I felt as if a net were going to fall from the ceiling and trap me while alarms blared, signaling that a poseur had crossed the threshold. No matter how much time I spent in places like this, I still felt as if I didn't totally belong. But instead of sounding the alarm, the black-suited salesladies rushed forward across the deep, plush carpeting, offering champagne, coffee, and a guided tour through the collections. Less than an hour later, Noelle and I were settled in a dressing room bigger than my bedroom back home, with twelve gowns apiece to try on, each more exquisite than the last.
But first, the torture. The seamstress had Noelle's measurements on file, but mine had to be taken. So a white-haired lady wielding a brown tape measure told me in a clipped tone to strip down to my underwear, and was now in the process of measuring every inch of my half-naked body with her cold, bony fingers. "God, Reed, I forgot what a prude you are," Noelle said, standing there with her ample breasts perfectly shaped by a black lace bra. Barely covering her butt were black lace boy shorts that made even me blush. "It's not like you have anything to see." I would have been offended if she hadn't been so right on. Genetics and a predisposition for sports had combined to give me a figure that was more boyish than girlish--broad shoulders, flat stomach, nonexistent hips. At least my boobs had grown a little this year. I had actually shrieked with delight over the summer when Natasha and I had gone shopping and I'd found I'd graduated to a B cup. She'd laughed for about an hour over my reaction. "Thanks a lot," I said flatly. Noelle just rolled her eyes. She stepped into a full-skirted black taffeta gown and zipped it up, then gathered the excess fabric of the bodice behind her, defining her perfect hourglass body.
"Don't worry," she said as I winced at the woman's touch. "It'll all be worth it when your gown fits like it was made for you. Because it will be! Darla is a genius." "Thank you, Miss Lange," Darla said. She crouched in front of me and measured up the side of my bare leg. A ticklish skitter raced along the inside of my thigh, and I almost kicked the poor woman in the head on reflex. "Sorry," I said as she noticed my wince. She merely pursed her lips and stood. "All right, Miss Brennan," Darla said. "We're all set. Let us know if you need anything." "Thank you."
As she strolled out with her clipboard and tape measure, I finally breathed freely again. Noelle grabbed a bronze-colored dress from my selections on the wall. "This is the one. I know it." I stepped into the dress, the silky fabric tickling my ankles as it swished around, and slipped my arms through the cap sleeves. I had to gather a lot more fabric behind me than Noelle did. We looked at our reflections in the mirror and I sighed. Next to Noelle, I looked like a ten-year-old playing dress-up. "Gorgeous. Look what that does for your coloring!" Noelle gushed. "I don't know. I think I want something more sophisticated," I said as I wrangled my way out of the dress. "And I want something sexier," Noelle agreed. She let the gown drop to the ground and kicked it aside, where it joined two other discards. Classic Noelle. The frock was worth thousands and she was using it as a soccer ball. She took down a long, slinky red dress and pulled that on next. I went with a gray strapless with a tiered, feathered skirt. It looked like something Rinnan Hearst, Cheyenne's famous, Oscar-nominated stepmother, might have worn on the red carpet.
"Now this is a look," Noelle said, striking a sultry pose in the mirror. It was all I could do not to gawk. It was a look all right. A breasty, curvy, sexpot look. She pulled all her hair over one shoulder and pursed her lips. She made me think of those pictures of old-school movie vixens like Veronica Lake or Marilyn Monroe. "You need that dress," I said, zipping up my own. "I know. Dash will die," she replied. I jerked and caught my skin in the zipper. Wincing, I yanked it down again and flung myself around to check my back. There was an angry red mark, but I hadn't broken the skin. "Dash is going to the Legacy?" I asked, keeping my voice even as I rubbed at the red mark, which only made it worse. Hadn't he just told me he and Noelle were not together? Hadn't she said the same that night in New York? What the hell had happened to that? "Well, yeah," Noelle said, twisting her hair up and holding it behind her head. She turned her face from side to side to inspect. "He's always my plus one. But since it seems even I'm not on the list this year, I just ordered one extra money clip for him."
Wow. She was just breaking rules all over the place, wasn't she? "Oh." I finished zipping up the dress and checked my reflection. The gown was gorgeous, with subtle little sparkles trailing across the strapless neckline and down only one side of the bodice, into the feathery skirt. It was sophisticated, definitely. A work of art. But I felt like a troll next to Noelle. Dash was going to die when he saw her. Die and go to heaven. I glanced at her reflection as she looked over her shoulder to check the back of the gown. This was my opportunity. My chance to find out how she really felt about him. What she thought the future might bring. Maybe if I knew for sure that they were getting back together, or at the very least that Noelle definitely still wanted him, I could get past this ridiculous crush already and focus on Josh. The guy I was supposed to be in love with.
I took a deep breath. Yes. This was a good plan. Find out. Move on. Trying to sound as casual as possible, I asked. "So, do you think you two will get back together?" I adjusted my gown and checked it out disinterestedly, just for good measure. "Of course," Noelle said without hesitation. Everything inside of me sank. Fast. "Really?" I blurted. Her brown eyes flashed. "You sound surprised." "No. Not at all," Humbled, my heart pounding. "I'm just... I don't know. I don't even know why you broke up in the first place. I wasn't sure if it was the kind of thing you could get past or..." Shut up, Reed. You're just digging a hole for yourself. Less is more. I bit my tongue to keep from rambling further.
Finally, Noelle answered. "Well, you don't know this, since you weren't here, but until last year Dash and I had a very on-again, off- again relationship, but we always, always came back to each other. Right now we're off again, but if I have my way..." Here she paused to give me a look that reminded me that she always got her way. "We'll be on again before the Legacy," she finished, smoothing her hair. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Would Dash die if he saw me in this? Not likely. But really, what did it matter? Josh would like it. It was just his kind of thing--interesting lines, an original color. A work of art. Josh would definitely appreciate it. "I'm taking this one," I said, quickly unzipping the gown and stepping out of the skirt. "Good choice," Noelle said. "Come on. We still have to pay for this and hit the MEA. We should get going," I said as I impatiently yanked on my jeans.
"Okay. Want me to pay for yours?" Noelle asked as she returned the dress she was buying to its hanger. Unlike the rejects on the floor. For some reason her offer made my blood boil. "No. Billings has an account here," I said, holding out my hand for her gown. "I'll just put them on that." Noelle stared at me for a long moment. A moment in which I had no idea, and in fact feared, what she might be thinking. But then, she slowly smiled. "Now you're getting the hang of it," she said, handing the dress over. She turned back to the mirror as I turned to go. "Don't forget to tell them we need a rush on the alterations." "Got it," I grumbled as I shoved my way through the door. You know everything. You have everything. I got it. Believe me. I do.
UNGRATEFUL
"I have the best news!" I cried as I barreled into my room that evening.
I had decided to focus on the positives. And one major positive was having some news that should actually break Sabine out of the weird funk she'd been in lately. Sure, she had seemed anti-Legacy before, but I knew she'd change her mind now that she'd get to go too. She was sitting on her bed with a needle and thread and some kind of fabric stuck into a ring, which she dropped the moment I entered. "What? What is it?" she asked, sitting up straight. "What's that?" I asked, pointing. Momentary distraction. It's not every day you see a sixteen-year-old girl doing needlepoint. "Just someth
ing I'm making for my sister." She tucked it away under her pillow as if embarrassed. But then she lifted her chin in a defiant way. "I do embroidery. It's calming."
"Oh. Okay," I said. I placed my Chloe bag on my bed. Sabine really was different from anyone else at Easton. I could only imagine what Portia and the Twin Cities and Noelle would say about such an old- fashioned and completely unglam hobby. But maybe there was something to this calming idea. Sabine always seemed pretty chill to me. "So? What's your news?" she asked. Right. My news! I turned to her, practically bubbling over. "We all are going to the Legacy!" I announced. Sabine's face fell. "Oh." Not exactly the enthusiastic response I had been looking for. "You don't understand! This is beyond incredible!" I cried. "Now we don't have to sit here alone while everyone else traipses off to the biggest party of the year! Noelle got rings for all the Billings Girls, so we're all going to crash. It's going to be an insane night. Just wait." "Rings? What rings?" Sabine asked, sliding to the end of her bed. "You need these rings to get in. There's always some piece of jewelry you get that proves you were invited. Last year it was a necklace," I told her. "Anyway, Noelle will be getting them any day, and then all we have to do is get the e-mail with the location and we're in."
"Noelle will be getting them," Sabine said pointedly. She dropped her clasped hands between her knees as she looked up at me. "Yeah. She ordered them," I told her. "Why?" "There's a surprise," she said. She shoved herself up and went over to her desk, where she started shifting through her books, her back to me. Okay. Now I was getting seriously annoyed. Not only was she not excited about the Legacy-- a party everyone else at Easton would give their left ear to go to--but she was giving me crap about Noelle. Again. "What is your problem with Noelle?" I asked. "Nothing," she said. My fingers clenched. "No. I want to know." Sabine sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Well, first of all, she's been mean to me since the day she got here." "You haven't been all that nice to her, either," I replied. It was lame, I know. Like Noelle really cared how Sabine treated her. But it was true.