Revelation

by Kate Brian

  made me think of her and Josh and how far they might have already gone, which made me want

  to vomit, but there was nothing else there.

  The second drawer was all T-shirts, again perfectly folded and arranged in rows. I lifted out a stack

  and there was nothing underneath. Same with the next.

  The third drawer contained about twenty black and white sweaters. Ivy's staples. I lifted up the

  first pile, holding the sweaters toward my shoulder, and froze. Sitting in the bottom of the drawer

  was a very familiar silver box. A box with the letters VMS etched into the lid. The very box Ivy had

  been sent into her grandmother's house to steal. The very box I had seen in Cheyenne's room the

  night before her parents had come to pack up all her things.

  Clutching the sweaters in the crook of my arm, I reached down with my free hand and flipped

  open the lid of the box. Sure enough, sitting inside on the velvet lining was Cheyenne's diamond B

  necklace--which was slightly bigger than everyone else's--the chain broken a few inches away from

  the clasp.

  Ivy must have sneaked into Billings that night--the night before Cheyenne's things were carted

  away. It was the only explanation. She was still so angry that Cheyenne had taken the box, she

  must have sneaked in to steal it back. That was how much this little token meant to her.

  Suddenly, my skin tingled with excitement. This was it. This was the key. The heirloom box gave Ivy

  a very concrete motive. She had never forgiven Cheyenne for her role in her grandmother's stroke

  and

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  for leaving her there to take the blame. She had never forgiven her for taking the family heirloom

  with her. So she had killed Cheyenne and, once she knew the police had inventoried everything,

  she had sneaked back to the scene of the crime to reclaim what was hers. The fact that the B

  necklace was inside was even better. Maybe Ivy had ripped it off of Cheyenne during some kind of

  struggle. I would have bet my life that the B had Ivy's fingerprints all over it.

  This was it. I finally had her.

  Fingers trembling, I whipped out my iPhone and snapped a picture of the open box with the B

  necklace inside, sitting right where it was. Then I covered my hand with the end of my sleeve to

  keep from leaving more fingerprints, closed the box, and snapped another picture. Finally, I took a

  step back and got the wider scene--the open drawer with the box inside and some of Ivy's things in

  the background, so that the police would have no question as to where I was.

  I placed the sweaters back in the drawer and closed it carefully. My heart was racing with

  unbridled excitement. Ivy was going down. It was almost over. I almost couldn't believe it.

  I was about to grab the doorknob and hightail it out of there, when I heard determined footsteps

  coming down the hall.

  "So stupid," someone said to herself.

  My heart stopped. It wasn't just someone. It was Ivy. She was about two seconds away from

  opening her door and finding me standing in the middle of her room with my iPhone out.

  I wheeled around. The door to Jillian's closet was open. I flung

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  myself inside, tripping on her shoes and banging into a dozen hangers, and yanked the door

  closed.

  Ivy shoved the door to the room open and stormed inside. I was breathing so hard she was sure to

  hear me. I grasped the sleeve of one of Jillian's sweaters and held it over my mouth, forcing myself

  to breathe in and out slowly, quietly. Through the tiny space between door and wall, I could see

  Ivy moving about.

  "Where the hell did I put it?" she said to herself, shoving some papers aside on her desk.

  She groaned and opened a drawer, then slammed it. Shuffled a few more things around. The

  whole time I had to clutch myself to keep from trembling and losing my balance atop the sea of

  pumps and boots and sneakers. If I moved, my ankle might turn and I might tumble right out onto

  the floor.

  That would be very not good.

  "Ah! Thank God," Ivy said finally.

  She shoved whatever she was looking for into her bag and strode past me toward the door. She

  got so close to the closet I could see the fur lining on her coat and smell her musky perfume. It was

  all I could do to keep from gagging. Then she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

  I let out a breath but didn't move. Glancing at my Nike watch, I forced myself to wait. And wait.

  And wait. Until five full minutes had passed. Then I finally emerged from the closet and took a real

  breath.

  "That was way too close," I said to myself.

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  I was about to flee the scene when something caught my eye and I paused. It was the picture--the

  photo of Cheyenne, Noelle, Ariana, and Ivy. It still hung above Ivy's bed, but something about it

  had changed. As I took a tentative step toward it, I realized what it was. Every single face had been

  X'd out with black marker except for Ivy's. Just like the photo of me and Cheyenne.

  My whole body trembled. What did these defaced photos actually mean? Was she close to getting

  rid of Noelle? And if so, how did she intend to do it? Hands quaking, I lifted my phone and snapped

  a photo of the photo. Then I took a step back and snapped the wider scene once again.

  This was all I needed. I was going to the police. And this time, they were going to have to listen to

  me. Noelle's life--and maybe even my own--depended on it.

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  * * *

  "I'm sorry, Reed. I don't really know what you think this proves," Detective Hauer said, sliding my

  iPhone across the table to me. He pushed up the sleeves of his drab, tan sweater and folded his

  arms on the table in front of his notebook.

  I felt as if every muscle in my body had just atrophied all at once. He had to be kidding me. First,

  the two officers at Hell Hall had told me that Detective Hauer wouldn't be on campus today. So

  then I had been forced to skip an entire morning of classes, sneak off campus, walk all the way

  over here in the freezing cold, and suffer on that cracked plastic chair in their saunalike waiting

  room for over an hour. All of that for him to just dismiss me?

  "I already told you," I said, sitting forward until my upper body was pressed against the edge of the

  table, my hands clasped in my lap. " Ivy herself explained to me how much this silver box meant to

  her. To her, it's the reason her grandmother died. Cheyenne not only left her

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  alone at her grandmother's that night to potentially watch the woman die, but she took the box

  with her. Ivy hated her for that."

  "So she killed Cheyenne over a jewelry box," the detective said skeptically, leaning his elbow on

  the table and his chin on his hand. "That's not much of a motive."

  "No! She killed Cheyenne over her grandmother's death!" I said, frustrated. "Look at the photos of

  Cheyenne's room from the morning we found her. That box is sitting on her desk. Now it's hidden

  in Ivy's room. She must have gone back and taken it. To her that box is a symbol of everything that

  happened that night. Maybe she thought that if you guys found it you might figure it all out. I

  mean, isn't that what guilty people do? Return to the scene of the crime to cover their tracks?"

  The detective took a deep breath and glanced toward the open doorway behind me, toward th
e

  hustle and bustle of the office, as if he was wishing he was out there rather than in here. Why did

  he refuse to take me seriously?

  "Listen, Reed, we've already talked to Ivy and she has an alibi for the night Cheyenne was

  murdered." He pulled his notebook toward him and flipped through it. "She was with Gage

  Coolidge all night and he corroborated her story."

  "So? Gage is totally in love with Ivy," I protested. "He'd say anything she asked him to say."

  Hauer looked at me with the expression of a man who was starting to get fed up with pandering to

  a whiny kindergartner. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to cry or smack him across his tired, old

  face. Instead, I whipped out my next weapon.

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  "Look," I said, pulling the destroyed photo of Cheyenne and me out of my bag and slapping it

  down in front of him. "I found this in my room the other day."

  Detective Hauer picked up the two halves of the photo by their edges and looked them over. I

  grabbed my iPhone and scrolled to the pic of Ivy's photo, then turned it to him.

  "Now look at this," I said. "Me, Cheyenne, Ariana, Noelle. All of us X'd out in the exact same way.

  The girl has already taken care of Cheyenne, and Ariana took care of herself. That leaves me and

  Noelle," I said, my voice trembling. "She's coming after us next, I swear."

  For the first time all morning, Detective Hauer looked slightly interested. Even concerned. I was

  glad that the fact that I was afraid for my own life had actually gotten through to him. He had a

  heart after all. He placed the phone and the photo in front of him and studied them. I seized my

  moment.

  "Is that what you want, Detective?" I asked. "Do you really want another murder on your hands?"

  He lifted his weary eyes to me and sighed, then sat back in his chair.

  "Crosby!" he shouted, so loud I actually jumped in my chair..

  Almost instantly, a skinny guy in a blue uniform scrambled into the room. "Yes, Detective?"

  "Grab an evidence bag and some gloves and get in here," he ordered. "I want this photo dusted for

  prints."

  "Yes, sir," the cop said.

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  My heart leapt as I looked back at Detective Hauer. Was this for real? Was he finally going to help

  me?

  "We'll look into it," he said, glancing at the picture on my iPhone once more. Glancing at it as if he

  didn't like what he saw. "I'm not guaranteeing anything, but we'll look into it."

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  IMMATURE STAMP

  By the time I got back to campus after making a quick stop at the Hallmark store in town for some

  supplies to complete Josh's gift, classes were over for the day. Students were streaming out of the

  cafeteria following lunch and loitering on the quad before heading to their dorms to start primping

  and dressing and finishing wrapping their presents. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. If

  I had strolled back onto campus an hour earlier, I could have easily been snagged for skipping, but

  now I blended right in.Praying I wouldn't bump into Ivy on my way back to my room lest I give

  away my anticipatory glee, I took the stairs instead of the elevator. My plan was to hunker down

  alone in my dorm for the rest of the afternoon and wait to see what happened next. If the police

  did come to arrest Ivy, I wanted to be there to witness it.

  I speed-walked down the hall to my room, tugging my scarf from my neck and unbuttoning my

  coat. There were a few girls hanging out

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  in front of their rooms, but Ivy wasn't among them. When I slipped inside, I turned around and

  closed the door, allowing myself a quick breath of relief. Home free.

  Then I turned and faced my room. A gasp of horror escaped my throat.

  The place was a complete wreck. The drawers of my dresser yawned open, clothes spilling out of

  them and covering the entire floor. My bed was unmade, pillows on the floor as well. My closet

  was open and half the clothes inside had been ripped from the hangers. The Chloe bag had been

  tossed in the corner, unclasped and upside down. Two of the three posters Constance had given

  me had been slashed in half and the third hung from one sorry tack over my bed. Even the photo

  of Scott and me hadn't come through unscathed. The glass was broken and the frame cracked.

  I was going to kill Ivy. I was going to kill her.

  My hands had just curled into fists when I noticed that all my CDs were fanned out across the

  desk, some of them having tumbled to the floor.

  CDs. Wait a second. CDs.

  Maybe this wasn't Ivy's handiwork after all.

  I grabbed the Chloe bag and righted it, then yanked open the small, inside pocket. It was empty.

  "Amberly," I said through my teeth. "You little bitch."

  She hadn't found the Billings disc, which, of course, didn't exist. But she had managed to find her

  precious Carma Card. Plus what was left of my Billings fund money. Both were gone from their

  hiding place inside the Chloe bag.

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  My heart rate started to return to normal as my brain accepted the fact that this had not been the

  work of my stalker. There was nothing Cheyenne-related about this particular attack. No. Amberly

  had done this. The pointless destruction had her immature stamp all over it. Apparently, this was

  her idea of "doing things the difficult way."

  I groaned as I looked around at the disaster area that was my room, hating the fact that Amberly

  had--even in a tiny way--gotten the better of me. Part of me wanted to storm right over to Billings

  and steal the stupid Carma Card right back, just to prove a point, but I knew that was never going

  to happen. No one over there was going to let me through the front door, let alone allow me to

  ransack my old room. I hated that Amberly had managed to get into my room and mess with me,

  but there was nothing I could do about it now. I wasn't going to let that twit ruin the rest of my

  day--the day on which Ivy might finally be arrested, the day on which I might finally get through to

  Noelle and Josh.

  No. I was just going to have to deal. And hopefully, by the end of the night, this mess would turn

  out to be just a blip in an otherwise perfect day.

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  MUCH WORSE

  "I cannot believe she did this to you," Sabine said, shaking her head as she speed-folded my

  clothes and stacked them into my dresser. Apparently, when Sabine was angry, she was like a

  whirling dervish. In five minutes she had cleaned up all the clothes, hanging them back in their

  places and tucking them into drawers. "That's it. I'll never talk to that girl again."I smiled wanly as I

  carefully removed the photo of Scott and me from the broken frame. "Thanks, but won't that

  make your living situation a tad difficult?"

  "I don't care," Sabine said, shoving the drawer closed. "Clearly there is something wrong with this

  girl. You can't just break into people's rooms. What is wrong with everyone?"

  Good question. I was about to attempt an answer when several male voices filled the hallway. I

  heard the telltale feedback from a walkie-talkie and my heart skipped a beat. Sabine and I locked

  eyes.

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  I felt tingles all over every inch of my skin. This was it. They had come for Ivy.

  "Yes, sir. I understand," Headmaster Cromwell's voice echoed down the hall. "I understand that,

 
but I have the academy's lawyer right here and she has looked over the warrant. Everything

  appears to be in order."

  Quaking with excitement and uncertainty, I crept over to my door and cracked it open. Two

  uniformed police officers strode by my room along with the Crom, who was on his cell, and a

  rotund woman in a gray suit who was reading over some legal document. Bringing up the rear was

  Detective Hauer in his thick wool coat, looking grim. The officers stopped and one of them

  knocked on Ivy's door. His blue vinyl jacket swished with every movement he made.

  "Ms. Slade? Ms. Crane? This is the Easton Police Department."

  "What's going on?" Sabine asked, trying to see through the crack by leaning into my shoulder from

  behind.

  I closed the door quietly and looked at her, wide-eyed. "It's the police. They've come for Ivy!" I

  whispered.

  My God. They must have found her fingerprints on my photo. I had finally done something right.

  "Right now?" Sabine asked, clutching her hands together.

  "What's going on?" I heard Ivy ask from next door.

  "Shhh!" I said to Sabine, putting my hands out and freezing in place as if doing so would help me

  hear better. All up and down the hall, doors were opening and closing as my floor mates checked

  out the drama.

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  "Miss Slade, we have a warrant to search your things," one of the officers said.

  "What? What for?" Ivy blurted, sounding angry.

  "Yes, sir. Yes. She's right here," Headmaster Cromwell said.

  He must have handed Ivy the phone, because in the next second I could hear her rambling right

  outside my door.

  "Daddy! Yes, there are three of them and they're going through all my stuff! What is going on? "

  She sounded on the verge of tears. I would have given anything to have been able to open my

  door, but everyone was crowded right outside. My appearance would have been way too obvious.

  So all I could do was stand there and imagine. Imagine how scared Ivy must have looked as she

  realized she was finally about to be brought to justice.

  There was another squeal of the walkie-talkie and a voice came through. "Detective Hauer, sir, we

  have the Coolidge boy. Should we take him right to the car?"

  "Gage?" Sabine mouthed.

  "Yes, Officer Crosby. We'll meet you there as soon as we wrap this up," Detective Hauer

  responded.

  My pulse pounded in my ears. Now that this was all happening, it seemed so very out of control.

  Had they decided that Gage was some kind of accomplice? Was I right in guessing that he had lied

  to the police to protect Ivy? I actually felt a thump of guilt at the thought of Gage being dragged

  off campus by the police. Who knew I had any sort of soft spot in my heart for that jerk?

  "Miss Slade? Care to explain this?" Detective Hauer asked.

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  "What? Dad, hang on," Ivy said. There was a pause. "Wait a minute. Who did this?" Ivy asked.

  "Are you trying to tell me you didn't deface this photo yourself?" Detective Hauer said.

  "No! No, I didn't," Ivy said. "I have no idea who did that, but it wasn't me."

  I rolled my eyes at her obvious lie. That was it. I couldn't take this anymore. I opened the door and

  stood in the doorway with Sabine just behind me. Everyone looked over at us. Headmaster