Confessions

by Kate Brian

  Huh. Apparently Noelle's life was not, in fact, perfect outside of Easton. That was the first I'd heard of it. But it didn't seem like she cared much, or at all. "Don't you guys sort of miss out on the decorations and the music and everything?" I asked, deciding to change the subject. The Christmas season was the only time of the year my hometown could actually pass as pretty, with all the lights and trees and wreaths decorating the strip malls and town buildings. I almost liked it this time of year. Not that I was looking forward to returning. Inside the Brennan home it was always dreary, no matter what was going on outside.

  "Who needs strings of lights when you can have string bikinis?” Kiran replied. "And trust me, a mai-tai is much more festive than eggnog," Noelle added. "I'm with Reed," Ariana announced, putting a chill right through me. "For me, there's nothing like a cozy fire and a big fir tree and being surrounded by people who love you." "Afire? In Atlanta?" Kiran asked. "It can get pretty cold there," Ariana said, her blue eyes--usually so piercing--alive with light. "I love this time of year." "Well, I honestly don't care where I go as long as I get the hell out of here," Kiran said as we reached the front door of Billings. "This place is de-pressing." We walked inside. The first things that hit me were the scents of cinnamon, mulberry, and freshly baked cookies. The next was the incredible, musky warmth. We all paused and then quickly shoved ourselves through the inner door.

  "Whoa," I said, nearly tripping over a faux-fur rug that had not been there that morning. In fact, there were a lot of things that hadn't been there that morning: the huge Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with white lights, red ribbons, and gold ornaments. The fir garland, peppered with acorns and red flowers, strung from the fireplace, the banister, and every doorway. The dozens and dozens of red and white poinsettias. The hundreds of tapered candles in crystal stems. The huge logs alight in the fireplace. And the three waiters in tuxedos, passing champagne, eggnog, hors d'oeuvres, and cookies on silver platters. The Nutcracker Suite was being played by a string quartet made up of Easton students, and all the Billings Girls were dressed up in velvet and cashmere and pearls, circulating around the room with the boys of Ketlar, who had donned business casual for the occasion.

  It was a Hallmark card come to life. "What the hell?" Noelle blurted, ripping off her hat and scarf. Rose Sakowitz strolled by, her curly red hair back in a black headband to match her slim, sleeveless dress. I grabbed her skinny wrist, and she nearly spilled her mug of hot chocolate all over the new rug. "You can just say, 'Hey, you,' Reed. You don't have to grab me," she said good-naturedly. "Sorry. I think I'm in shock. What is all this?" I asked. "Ask Cheyenne," Rose replied with a grin. "She's been working on it for days. I think she's petitioning to be the next Martha Stewart." "Where the hell did she get all this stuff?" Noelle asked. "The Internet," Rose said proudly. "She ordered it all then, spent half the afternoon decorating. Plus she paid some of the staff from the cafeteria to stay late and wait, since she wasn't allowed to hire an outside caterer to come on campus. Genius, isn't it?"

  I was inclined to agree. Already the aromatherapy was working its wonders on my coiled shoulder muscles. Noelle, however, was practically spitting fire. Cheyenne had pitched this idea the other day, and Noelle had shot it down, but Cheyenne had gone ahead with it anyway. In the Billings universe, that was heresy. "Isn't this incredible?" London trilled, bounding over. Her huge breasts were all but popping out of her red sweater, and she wore a Santa hat at a jaunty angle atop her thick, wavy hair. "We couldn't go out, so Cheyenne brought Christmas in!" "God, how lame," Kiran said, even as she grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

  Noelle had heard enough. She flung her coat over the back of one of the couches that had been moved to the lobby from the parlor and stormed into the next room. Of course, Kiran, Ariana, Rose, and I had to follow. The parlor was decorated much like the lobby, and White Christmas was playing on the big-screen TV. Dash stepped away from the wall to greet Noelle, but she blew right by him and zeroed in on Cheyenne. She stood near the wall with a tall guy from Ketlar named Trey, her diamond studs sparkling in the candlelight. She wore a white turtleneck, a plaid skirt, and a black velvet headband just like Rose's. Girl could have stepped right out of a Burberry ad. "Cheyenne--" "Noelle!" Cheyenne said with a big smile. "What do you think?"

  "I think it looks like Rudolph threw up in here," Noelle replied. Cheyenne's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "Well, everyone has their own taste, I suppose." "Let's skip the pleasantries, Rachael Ray. What the hell do you think you're doing planning this behind my back?" Noelle demanded. Trey took a step closer to Cheyenne. Brave guy. Most would have backed away. "I didn't realize that every little thing we did in the dorm had to be approved by you," Cheyenne said tersely. "I mean, I know you like to throw your weight around, but there's no president of Billings, is there? Not officially." I thought Noelle was going to rupture something. Kiran chuckled under her breath. "And besides, I knew you thought it was a bad idea, and I also knew that everyone else would enjoy it. And look," Cheyenne continued, lifting her hands. "They do." "That's because they're drunk," Noelle said flatly.

  "If you say so," Cheyenne replied. Dear Lord. Was that condescension? Did this girl have some kind of preppy death wish? "Now can I please get back to my date?" Cheyenne turned toward Trey, but Noelle didn't move. Her eyes narrowed as she worked something out. Then she slowly smiled, and I felt pity for Cheyenne. "I thought you were dating Ennis Thatcher from Barton School," Noelle said finally. Cheyenne's shimmery lips slowly twisted into a smirk. "Well, I couldn't exactly invite him, considering the restrictions, could I? Besides, unlike you, Noelle, I'm not ball-and-chained to my man. I do what I like." "I'm not ball-and-chained to anyone," Noelle fumed. As if on cue, Dash stepped up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist. "Hey, babe," he said, clearly already buzzed on champagne. Otherwise he never would have used the word "babe." Noelle slapped his hand away.

  Cheyenne all but laughed. "My mistake." "So are you not at all concerned that Ennis might find out about this?" Kiran asked Cheyenne, finishing off her champagne. She eyed Trey up and down. "Not that I question your taste." "Why? It's not like anyone here is going to tell him," Cheyenne said blithely, lifting one shoulder. "Billings Girls protect their own, right?" The girl wasn't fazed. Frustrated, Noelle turned around and headed back toward the lobby. "This party is a joke," she said under her breath. "Come on, Dash. Let's go up to my room." Dash, even with everything that was going on, didn't have to be told twice. He dropped his glass on a bookshelf and went after his girl. "Where'd you get that hot chocolate?" I asked Rose. She smiled. "It's in the other room. There are even mini marshmallows." I love mini marshmallows," I told her. "Let's go.'

  Ariana and Kiran looked baffled as Rose and I left them behind, but I didn't even care. Maybe they all thought this was lame, but to me, it was heaven. In the lobby I filled a red mug with steaming cocoa and covered the top with a generous heap of marshmallows. Then I grabbed a few sugar cookies and joined Natasha over by the fire. Rose settled in next to me and I let the chocolatey goodness warm me from the inside out. For the first time in days I felt semi- relaxed, and I was going to enjoy it for as long as humanly possible. When Cheyenne strolled through the room a few minutes later, I reached up and touched her hand. She looked down at me, surprised. Not that I could blame her--ever since she'd crushed her blush beads into her rug and made me clean it up during my hazing stage, there had been no love lost between the two of us. But as of tonight I was seeing Cheyenne in a whole different light.

  "Thanks for this," I said. Cheyenne smiled kindly, and I felt that in that moment, any leftover animosity between us was erased. "You're welcome."

  FRUSTRATION

  The next day the clouds and rain were gone, leaving a crisp blue sky in their wake. First thing in the morning I got out of bed, taking my comforter with me to guard against the cold, and padded over to Natasha's desk. She snored lightly in her bed as I powered up her computer. My fingers trembled both with ant
icipation and from the chill as I logged on to my e-mail. He had to have responded by now. He just had to. I logged on. My breath caught. There was one new message. I clicked to my inbox. The message was from my brother. I groaned and opened it.

  To: rbrennan391@aol.com

  From: Scott.Brennan@PAState.edu

  Subject: Whaddup, loser? And other burning questions. Hey. So. I'm not gonna be able to make the drive out with Dad to pick you up. I have a final that last day. Bastards. Sorry. Really wanted to get a firsthand look at Eat Me Academy. How are things there? Any more normal? Hope you're hanging in. Know you are. You're tough like that. All right. Enough with the mush. Call me later, loser. Scott

  I sighed and typed a response.

  To: Scott.Brennan@PAState.edu

  From: rbrennan391@aol.com

  Subject: You're a jackass. And other lame responses. Want to know how things are here? I can't wait to get home. What does that tell you? –Reed As soon as I sent it, I checked my inbox again. As if Blake would be up at 6 a.m. typing notes to his dead brother's girlfriend. Nothing. I bit my tongue and went back to bed to lie there and stare at the ceiling. At seven I got up, checked my e-mail again, cursed under my breath, and took a shower. For the rest of the day I was a sweaty mess. That's what happens when you spend the ten minutes in between each class sprinting to the library to check your e-mail, finding nothing, and then sprinting back again. With each fruitless venture I grew more and more frustrated, both at Blake for not replying, and at myself for continuing to believe that he would. Finally, on my last try between my final class and dinner, I sent him another e-mail. I had to retype several of the words over and over again, my hands were shaking so badly.

  To: BlPearson@columbia.edu From: rbrennan391@aol.com Subject: Your conscience

  Dear Blake, How do you live with yourself, knowing that an innocent person is sitting in jail and all you have to do is pick up the phone to fix it? Now I understand why Thomas hated you so much. Regards, Reed

  I regretted it the moment I hit "send." Telling someone off like that was probably not the best way to coerce them into cooperating. But there was nothing I could do about it now. The message was out there. I just had to hope it pissed Blake off enough for him to call me and scream at me. Then at least I'd have a shot at talking-to him.

  JOINING FORCES

  The next day there was still nothing from Blake. Not even a "screw you" text message. I considered going back to talk to Ms. Lewis-Hanneman, but I had no idea what I could say to make her talk. Blake seemed like the more viable option. He had nothing to lose by divulging that he'd been on campus. No one would care if he was having an affair with a staff member. He wouldn't get in trouble. And he had everything to gain. Even if he and Thomas did dislike each other, they were still brothers. Wouldn't Blake want the real killer to be found? Someone had to get through to him, and clearly it was not going to be me. Who did I know who knew Blake? Who might actually be able to get him on the phone and talk some sense into him?

  As soon as I had this thought, the answer was blatantly clear. I found Dash studying for his advanced chemistry exam in the library. Unfortunately, he was not alone. Gage was with him, snapping his gum and listening to his iPod as he studied the physique of some Swedish model in the latest issue of Maxim. Cheyenne's boy toy, Trey Prescott, was there as well, scribbling notes onto index cards. This was going to be interesting. I'd never talked to Dash on my own before. I stepped up to their table and cleared my throat. Dash and Trey looked up. "Hey," I said. "What's up?" Dash asked. "Could I. . . uh . . . talk to you?" I asked, looking uncertainly at Gage. He still hadn't noticed me. Thank goodness for those deafening earbuds.

  Dash was clearly intrigued. He pushed away from the table. "Sure." As he stood, Gage did look up. He popped the buds from his ears. "What's going on?" "Nothing, man. Just stay," Dash said. Like Gage was a dog. Gage looked irritated for a moment but sighed and put his buds back in. Good boy. "Over here," Dash told me. He touched my back and steered me to the alcove with the Evian and candy vending machines. The fluorescent light overhead flickered as we leaned against opposite walls of the small doorway. Even with my tall and athletic build, Dash dwarfed me. His broad shoulders pulled the sleeves of his blue sweater taut, and he had to be at least six foot four.

  "What's wrong? Is it Josh?" Dash whispered. "No. Well, sort of." I took a deep breath and looked into Dash's guileless eyes. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I thought that I was. I plowed ahead. "It turns out he has an alibi." Dash's face lit up and he stood straight. "He does! That's great!" "Yeah, but neither of the people who saw him that night will come forward," I told him. "Who are they?" Dash asked. "Blake Pearson and Ms. Lewis-Hanneman." Dash reached both hands up and held them over his mouth as though he were praying. "You've got to be kidding me. They're still at it?"

  "Apparently. But she's lying about it, and he won't return my e-mails," I told him. "They were in Mitchell Hall that night, and Josh went there. He hangs out in the art cemetery sometimes when Thomas gets . . . got. . . you know ..." "Wasted," Dash said, clenching his jaw. "Yeah." I looked away. I could hear a few girls whispering nearby but couldn't tell if they were getting closer. "So you've tried to get in touch with Blake?" Dash asked. "Yeah, but nothing." "Asshole." Dash crossed his arms over his chest, and his perfect brows knitted as he paced to the vending machines and back again. "Okay, I think I know a way we can get Blake's ass up here so we can talk to him in person." "You do? How?" I asked, my heart starting to pound. "We have to use Lewis-Hanneman. Blake would do anything for that woman," he told me. "Although I don't know why. She always seemed like a frigid bitch to me."

  A lot of people would have described his girlfriend the same way, but I refrained from pointing that out. "I told you, she won't help." "Doesn't matter. We just need to figure out how to get into Hell Hall after hours." Dash paused in front of me, racking his brain. "Oh, I know a way," I said, preening just slightly. I had, after all, been forced to break in there a couple of months ago in the dead of night. I could do it again, no problem. "You do?" Dash asked. "Piece of cake," I said. "When do you want to do it?" "As soon as possible," he replied, psyched to have a clear task at hand. "Tonight." "Okay, meet me there at--" "Well, well! What's this? Should I be concerned?" Noelle strolled over to us, still in her coat. I felt all the blood rush to my face and took a step away from Dash. Couldn't have been more obviously guilty if I'd had the word stamped across my chest. Dash's eyes met mine and I shook my head ever so slightly.

  "Dash was just giving me some pointers for my modern civ project," I said quickly. "Really?" Noelle arched her brows at her boyfriend. I silently prayed that he would go along with my story, not thinking for a second that he would. They were Dash and Noelle, after all--the perfect couple against which all other perfect couples were measured. If she found out what I knew she would certainly interfere. "Yeah," Dash said, slipping his arm over her shoulders. "You know how much Kline loves me." My jaw dropped in surprise, but I quickly snapped it shut. If Noelle noticed, she didn't let on. "How very generous of you," she said to Dash. "Reed could use a little help, considering all she's been through."

  "Yeah. That's what I figured," Dash said with a grin. "Thanks again for all your ideas," I told him, edging away. "I think I'll go get started on the research." Noelle kissed Dash on the lips, then hugged him, turning her back to me. As I stepped away, Dash wrapped his arms around her but looked at me. Midnight, he mouthed. My heart skipped an excited beat and I nodded before quickly walking away. My palms itched like crazy as I grabbed my books and made my way to the computer lab. For now I would try to get some actual work done on that project--both to keep up appearances and maybe even save my grade. But I could hardly wait for later tonight when I would break and enter for the second time since arriving at Easton. For the first time, I was grateful for my Billings hazing period. At least some of it was about to be put to good use.

  DOUBLE-O DASH

  We had to be out of our minds, because breaking in
to Hell Hall in the middle of the night after cameras had been installed all over campus and the security staff had been doubled? Not too smart. Still, I didn't even think about turning back as I snuck out of Billings House that night. I had long since learned that the back stairs were far less squeaky than the front (this from many nights of listening to my sister Billings Girls tromp up and down, in and out), so I tiptoed down the hall, past Noelle and Ariana's room, and held the door of the stairwell until it clicked closed quietly. Then I jogged downstairs on my tiptoes, crossed the deserted lobby, and paused by the door. Already I could feel the biting grasp of the winter night. I lifted the hood of my black hoodie, buttoned up my black coat, and slipped out into the cold.

  The moment I was outside, I ducked my head and ran. My white sneakers cut an eerie streak through the pitch-black night. No stars. No moon. The weather had cooperated with our scheme by giving us serious cloud cover. Still, I sprinted as fast as I could. By the time I reached Hell Hall, my lungs burned from the frigid air and I really had to pee. Nerves. They do it to me every time. "I'm here," Dash whispered, stepping out of the shadows. I could have laughed when I saw him. Black turtleneck with a little RL embroidered into the neck. Black skullcap by A/X. Flat front, black wool pants. Very high-end skulker. Did the wealthy have a catalog for everything?

  "You sure you want to do this?" I asked. He was, after all, God's gift to Easton. This type of thing could be bad for the golden boy's reputation. I, however, couldn't tarnish mine much more without a blowtorch. Dash nodded resolutely. "I'm sure. Whatever happens is worth it if it helps Josh." I smiled. This guy was so pure he practically glowed. I hoped he never went into politics. He'd get slaughtered. Or just corrupted, which would be sad. My heartbeat, started to return to normal, which made me feel ready for the next step. "Okay," I said. "This way."