And we were ordered not to do it, but go ahead and make it seem like it was your own sense of propriety that forestalled this whole thing.
“Now we’re in the position of having to fill the house and having to do it quickly. But I’m sure we’re all up to the task.” She handed a stack of papers to Tiffany on her right and Vienna on her left. “Find the pages with your name on them and pass the others on,” she instructed. “These are all the current juniors. We will need to choose six girls from the more than one hundred possibles.”
I glanced at the pyramid of boxes in the center of the table. Six girls. Six more necklaces.
“You will each be responsible for vetting at least ten prospective Billings Girls,” Cheyenne continued.
“Vetting?” I asked as the pages were dropped in front of me. I noted the first name with dismay: Lorna Gross. Along with her name and her unfortunate sophomore class picture was a list of all her vitals—her birthday, primary residence, final grades from last year, clubs and sports, plus paragraphs about all her family members and her parents’ income. There was even a rundown of where they summered and vacationed during winter break for the past ten years. How this information was obtained, I had no idea. I turned to the second page and smiled. Kiki Rosen. As far as I was concerned, Kiki—straight-A student and cool person that she was—was in as of that moment. And, holy crap, was that really how much her family was worth?
“First, you will make an appointment to sit down with each of your girls and conduct an interview. Make sure they’re Billings material. That they really want it,” Cheyenne said, strolling around the table imperiously. “Second, and more important, you will keep an eye on
them. See how they conduct themselves when they think no one is watching. That is when their true characters will be revealed.”
My laughter filled the otherwise silent room. Every person at the table stared me down.
“She’s not kidding,” Rose said.
No way. “You want me to spy on these girls?”
Cheyenne flattened her lips like I’d just jammed a lemon drop into her mouth. “This is how it’s done. This is how it’s always been done.”
“With one exception,” Portia said, casting a haughty glance in my direction.
Right. Me. As always, the black sheep.
“Bygones,” Cheyenne said with a wave of her hand. “But it does bring up a good point. Considering all that happened last year, it is of the utmost importance that we get the
right
girls this year. We have to buff the tarnished Billings image. Show the world that those girls are not indicative of the type of women we want to be.”
Can I barf now?
“Um, Cheyenne? What about Ivy?” Rose asked.
A skitter of anticipation raced down my spine.
“What
about
Ivy?” Cheyenne snapped.
Okay. Clearly no love lost there.
“Well, she would’ve been in Billings no Q last year if she hadn’t gone MIA,” Portia said, inspecting her nails. “Should we re-extend the invite?”
“No. We want juniors only. The whole point is to guide the future
of the house, not take someone new who will be out of here in a few months,” Cheyenne said. “Besides, did no one hear a word I just said? I don’t really think Ivy Slade is the right sort of girl.”
There were many knowing glances and a few snickers. Rose, however, did not look happy.
“We will choose our new housemates from among the junior class, and we will choose wisely,” Cheyenne said. “It’s up to us to ensure the future of this house.”
Out in the lobby, the front door opened. We all looked around, wondering who was missing. It sounded as if a crowd had just walked through the door. Seconds later Headmaster Cromwell appeared, practically filling the parlor doorway. He looked down the table with obvious distaste.
“Ladies.”
“Headmaster! Hello,” Cheyenne greeted him uncertainly.
He stepped aside slightly. “Come in. Let’s not be shy,” he said over his shoulder.
There was stunned silence as six girls walked into the room and lined up by the lace curtains at the front window. Lorna Gross, Missy Thurber, Constance Talbot, Kiki Rose, Astrid Chou—who as far as I knew was Cheyenne’s friend from Barton School—and the new girl from the chapel. Miss Island Nation, as Lorna had called her.
“Ladies, allow me to introduce your new housemates,” the headmaster said with a curt nod.
“What!?” Cheyenne blurted. Screeched, actually.
The headmaster eyed her with disdain. “These girls are among the
elite in the junior class. They have been selected by the board of directors and have been granted the honor of residing in Billings House.”
Tiffany snapped their picture. Everyone else around me looked appalled. He had to be kidding. They couldn’t just decide who was going to live in Billings. That wasn’t how it was done. But then I noticed Constance’s expression. She looked like a five-year-old who’d just been dropped off at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. That lessened the sting. At least enough to make me smile.
“Headmaster Cromwell.” Cheyenne’s voice sounded weak as she tried to regain her senses. She gripped the back of Tiffany’s chair and faced him. “I’m sorry, but the women of Billings House have always selected our own housemates. It’s one of the privileges of living here. That’s how it’s always been done. For the past eighty years.”
The headmaster eyed Cheyenne with a look of barely veiled disdain. “Ms. Martin, is it?”
“Yes, sir.” She was clearly pleased that her reputation preceded her.
“I heard all about you from Dean Marcus,” he said. “Including the little deal you made with him last year to get you and your friends off campus during the holidays.”
Cheyenne’s smile faltered a bit.
“Well, let me make something perfectly clear to you,” he continued. “
I
do not make deals with students. I tell you how it’s going to be, and your response is, ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Good day, sir.’ ”
Every single one of us was frozen in place.
“As of today, this house will no longer be run like a sorority,” he
continued with a sniff. He reached over Rose’s shoulder and picked up her place card, which he glanced over quickly before flicking it back on the table with obvious disgust. London pulled hers to her as if to hide it. “I’ve heard about your rituals and initiations. That all stops now. This is a dormitory. A living space. That is all.”
I felt a dart of pain shoot through me and knew that the others probably felt the degradation even more acutely. Living in Billings was supposed to mean something. It meant something to all of us. And he’d just snatched that away and insulted us in the process.
“Do you have anything to say to that, Ms. Martin?” he asked, lifting his chin.
“I . . . ”
“Yes, sir . . . ,” he prompted her.
Wow. This was humiliating. Big time, boob-out-of-bathing-suit humiliating. Cheyenne cleared her throat and cast her eyes at the ground.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Good day, sir.”
At least she put some sarcastic emphasis on the last
sir
. That was something.
“I’ll leave you all to get to know each other,” the headmaster said. Then he turned on his heel and strode out.
For a long moment, nobody moved. Cheyenne’s ire could have incinerated the whole room.
“That man needs a good shagging,” Astrid joked, her British accent somehow making the joke funnier.
Everyone laughed nervously. Everyone except Cheyenne.
“They can’t do this to us,” she said, her voice like ice.
“I think they just did,” Tiffany replied.
“No. This is my senior year. They can’t just change everything now,” Cheyenne ranted. “They just can’t. I’ve been looking forward to this for my entire Easton career. They can’t just bring us these random people and expect that to be it!”
“Cheyenne,” Rose scolded, jumping up. She glanced at the six girls by the window apologetically, then grabbed Cheyenne’s wrist and pulled her into the corner, talking to her in low tones. Vienna and London quickly joined them.
I glanced at the other girls at the table, who looked just as dumbstruck and unsure as I felt. But it couldn’t have been half of what Constance and the new girls were feeling. I couldn’t just let them stand there all uncertain and out of place. I got up and gave Constance an awkward hug.
“Congratulations!” I told her. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. A few of the other Billings Girls followed my lead and roused themselves to talk to our visitors. Gradually, chatter filled the room, drowning out Cheyenne and the others.
“What’s wrong with Cheyenne?” Constance whispered. “Does she really not want us here?”
“She wants to vote, like always,” I said. “She wants the power to decide who lives here. But what’s she going to do? The headmaster seemed pretty serious. If he says you’re living here, you’re living here.”
“I don’t believe it. I’m in Billings!” Constance said, wide-eyed.
“Just wait till you see what’s in those boxes,” I told her, glancing at the table.
Constance glanced at the empty pink boxes strewn all over the place, then looked around the room, practically drooling as she noticed the diamond
B
s everywhere.
“Omigod! Am I going to get one?” she asked, reaching out to touch my pendant.
I shrugged. “Looks to me like all the Billings girls have one, so . . . ”
Constance quietly squealed and I moved on to Astrid, whom I’d met at Cheyenne’s Christmas party last year. True to her original fashion sense, she was wearing a strapless dress with postage stamps all over it, yellow flats, and a flower in her short, shaggy hair.
“Reed! It’s so nice to see a familiar face,” she said.
“I know! What are you doing here?” I asked. “What happened to Barton?”
“Caught me smoking behind the gymnasium one too many times, didn’t they?” Her brown eyes gleamed with mischief. “But no matter. I always wanted to come here anyway.”
I introduced her to Kiki and Constance, then turned to the new girl who stood in the corner, her hands behind her back, shyly observing the room.
“Sabine, right?” I said.
Her face lit up, if possible rendering it even more beautiful. “Yes. How did you know?”
Her English was slightly accented. French, as Josh predicted. I pulled
the blue slip out of my back pocket and handed it to her. “I’m Reed. Looks like I’m supposed to show you around.”
“Oh,
merci
! I’m so happy to meet you,” Sabine said, hand to chest. “This place is a bit intimidating, no?”
I smiled. “Just a tad.”
“No! Forget it!” Cheyenne blurted from across the room. “This is not acceptable!” She turned to the six newcomers. “You! Sit!” she ordered, pointing her finger at the table. “The rest of you, my room. Now.”
She swept the six remaining jewelry boxes up in her arms as if she was afraid the new girls might pilfer them, then stormed out of the parlor, the rest of the Billings Girls trailing behind her. I looked at Sabine and the others with an apology in my eyes and sighed.
“Okay. Maybe more than a tad.”
CREATIVE THINKING
“They have no right to do this! What were they thinking?” Cheyenne ranted, pacing back and forth in her huge single room. She had taken Noelle and Ariana’s old room again this year, but somehow had managed to secure it all to herself. It was still weird to be in here without Noelle’s ridiculous mess on one side and Ariana’s OCD primness on the other, but Cheyenne had done all she could to make it her own. She had a double bed set up near the bay window, two dressers, a huge desk, an ornate vanity table, and a sitting area. Plus room enough for all ten Billings residents to hang out at once. Everything in sight was white, pink, or mossy green—the bedspread, the chair coverings, the throw pillows, the fresh-cut flowers in the bay window. It was like she was living in an English garden. “I mean, Lorna Gross? I don’t care if she did take a private jet to Switzerland for her nose job. She’s still Lorna Gross!”
“And did you see that one girl’s shoes?” Portia said, her eyes practically crossing as she inspected a lock of hair for split ends. “Wrong!”
I looked at Tiffany, confused. Which girl was she talking about? Tiff simply shrugged.
“Well, at least Astrid got in,” I said, trying to find a tack that would placate Cheyenne. “Aren’t you two, like, best friends?”
Cheyenne leveled me with a glare. “We
know
each other,” she corrected. “And that is so not the point.”
“But she is right. Transfer students never get into Billings,” Rose piped in from her seat on one of Cheyenne’s upholstered chairs. “Maybe the board did you a favor.”
“Are you kidding me? How am I the only one here who’s upset? This is an affront to all of us,” Cheyenne said. “They don’t know what it takes to be in Billings. They can’t just suddenly decide who’s worthy. Each and every one of us was carefully selected by women who have lived here, who know what it’s about. The board of directors has no clue, and Headmaster Cromwell certainly doesn’t.”
“Yeah, but Kiki and Constance are both cool. Kiki got First Honors twice last year, and Constance landed editor-in-chief of the
Chronicle
even though she’s only a junior,” I pointed out. “And I’m not the biggest fan of Lorna or Missy’s either, but Missy’s a Billings legacy. Wouldn’t she have automatically gotten in anyway?”
“The girl has a point,” Tiffany said, toying with her camera.
“But it doesn’t change the fact that Evil HC just swooped in here and stripped us of our rights,” Portia said. Her bangle bracelets jangled as she crossed her arms over her chest. “The man’s an alum. He should know better.”
“Exactly,” Cheyenne said, her eyes lighting up now that someone was getting her back.
Unreal. Somehow I was still shocked by the Billings ego.
“Yeah. And now we don’t get to spy on the prospects.” London pouted. “I was so looking forward to that part. I even got binoculars,” she said, producing a sleek set of silver binocs from her leather Prada bag.
“See?” Cheyenne said, lifting a hand like this was such a heinous affront. “London didn’t even get to use her binoculars.”