City Secrets (2 page)

The trunk of the car slammed shut and an attendant came and picked up Heather's and my suitcases, loading them onto a cart.

“C'mon,” Heather said. “Our stuff will be upstairs in a sec.”

I followed her as a doorman tipped his hat, opening the door to let us inside. “Miss Fox,” he said.

“Hi, Allen,” Heather said. She smiled at him and we walked into a lobby that looked like something out of a movie set. Nothing looked real.

“You have exactly two seconds to gawk before I shove you back in the car,” Heather said to me.

I couldn't help it. The white-and-sandy-colored marble floors gleamed. A security guard monitored people heading for one of the six elevators. The gold elevators looked imposing, and elevator attendants waited to offer assistance if necessary.

A giant stone fireplace, surrounded by crimson high-backed chairs, cast heat across the lobby. Gleaming gold fireplace tools were hung on the hearth. It looked like a spot I'd
never
leave during the winter if I lived here. I'd curl
up with
Misty of Chincoteague
, one of my favorite books, and read for hours.

Placed around the room were coffee tables and end tables—most with neat stacks of magazines, and others with vases of flowers. Potted plants were in the corners of the room. There were a few cream-colored couches where people sat and read books or chatted in quiet tones on their phones.

My gaze traveled upward to the high ceiling and six crystal chandeliers that sparkled. Hundreds of crystals dangled from the chandeliers and reflected bits of light onto the ceiling. The chandeliers alone screamed elegance.

On the opposite side of the elevators, a staircase with a gleaming wooden railing wrapped around the side of the room, over the fireplace, and to what looked like another level of the lobby. I stared down at my jeans and flip-flops—I looked
so
out of place here.

“Enough already,” Heather said, grabbing my elbow. “People are going to stare. I
do
live here and have to see my neighbors occasionally when I'm here on break.”

“Sorry,” I said.

I followed Heather past the security desk. She waved at the guard and he smiled at her.

We waited for the elevator, then stepped inside. The doors closed behind us and I almost fell back against wall when I turned to face the door.

“There's a
TV
in your elevator?” I asked.

Heather smirked. “So easily impressed. It's only going to get better from here, so chill before you pass out or something.”

“I'm not going to faint,” I muttered.

The elevator doors opened and I held my breath as we stepped into the hallway. The walls were eggshell, and the dark gray carpet had red and gold swirls. Golden accents ran along the top of the walls, near the ceiling, and I half-expected a movie star to emerge from one of the rooms. This looked like a building where celebs would
def
live.

We turned the corner and stopped in front of a dark cherrywood doorway labeled
PH1
in gold. Heather pressed four numbers into a keypad, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. Heather's parents weren't exactly . . .
nice
, and Mr. Fox always made me nervous. He never missed a chance to be intimidating or to make the people around him sweat.

The red light on the keypad turned to a blinking green, and Heather pushed down the door handle. I took
another breath, hoping I'd made the right decision by coming here. But it was too late to go back now. My parents had left for vacation, and there was no way I could—or would—stay with Paige. I was stuck here no matter what.

 2 

HEATHER OPENED THE DOOR AND WALKED inside. We stepped into the entryway and the only sound in the penthouse was my flip-flops slapping the marble floor. How many times today was I going to regret my shoe choice?

Heather kicked off her wedge platforms and motioned for me to do the same.

“The maid will put them away,” she said. “My mother will freak if you wear shoes in the apartment, FYI. She just got the carpets redone.”

I stared at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the tables that had gorgeous lamps on them, and the sparkling crystal knobs on the closet doors.

“Heather, you're a half hour late.”

Mrs. Fox walked into the room in a black v-neck dress. A diamond tennis bracelet sparkled from her wrist. She shared Heather's blond hair, willowy build, and blue eyes.

“Sorry, Mom,” Heather said. “Paul hit traffic.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Heather, probably glad for the interruption, turned to open it. It was the doorman with our bags. I grabbed mine and Heather took hers.

“Thank you,” we both said. He dipped his head and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

“Traffic?” Mrs. Fox asked.

The roads had been clear—Heather had waited until the last possible minute to leave. And from being inside for just two seconds, I already understood why. We'd been held hostage in the foyer since we'd gotten here.

I had to distract Mrs. Fox from questioning Heather. She'd been nice enough to offer for me to stay with her—it was the least I could do.

“Wow,” I said, moving toward a crystal vase filled with orchids. It sat on an end table in the entryway. “That's so beau—”

“Please be careful,” Mrs. Fox interrupted. “That's from Tiffany.”

I stepped back and stood close to Heather.

Mrs. Fox stared at me as if I were some kind of bug or intruder in her home.

“Heather,” she said. “Remember your manners and take Sasha to the guest room. There's no need for everyone to be standing in the doorway. I'll see you both at seven for dinner.”

And with that Mrs. Fox turned and disappeared down a side hallway.

Heather sighed. “C'mon,” she said. “Your room's this way.”

I followed Heather through the foyer and down a long hallway. Framed black-and-white photos of the city lined the walls. It felt like a museum, like an alarm would go off if I accidentally touched something. This was
so
unlike my much shorter hallway at home. Mine was decorated with framed “art” I'd created in kindergarten and time-worn family photos. Here there wasn't one picture of Heather or her parents.

Heather stopped in front of a door and twisted the brass knob. A light scent of violet flowed through the open door and I almost dropped my bag.

“This is
my
room?” I asked. “It has a fireplace!”

Heather smirked. “All of the bedrooms have fireplaces, Silver.”

Wow.
I had a feeling I was going to be thinking that a lot.

I put my bag on the floor and walked over to the sliding glass door with sheer curtains held back by elegant ties. I looked out at a balcony with two wicker chairs, a small glass table, and pots of flowers that I couldn't even attempt to name.

“Can I—” I asked, stopping when Heather nodded.

Heather stepped in front of me and unlatched the door. She slid it open and walked in front of me onto the balcony. I followed her, gasping at the view of New York City.

“It almost feels like we're in an airplane or helicopter hovering over the city,” I said.

Heather nodded. “I still get that feeling too. The view is pretty insane.”

I looked out over the tops of the buildings that stretched toward the puffy clouds. I grasped the iron railing and a gentle breeze blew my golden-brown hair back. It felt like I was in another country.

“I might sleep out here,” I joked.

Heather rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that. C'mon, let me give you a quick tour, and then you can unpack.”

“Okay.”

I followed Heather out of my room and we walked a few feet down the hallway. Heather pointed to doors on either side.

“Those are two of the other guest rooms. Mom and Dad's room is at the end of the hallway.”

“Three guest rooms,” I said. “Wow.”

“Get a new word before I shove the ‘wow' out of you,” Heather said. But she smiled.

“Fine,” I said.
“Whoa.”

“Your bathroom's down there,” Heather said, pointing to another door.

We turned down another hallway and passed giant bay windows that overlooked Manhattan. I couldn't help thinking how different the view was from here than from Paige's apartment. Paige's fifth-floor apartment had a gorgeous view of Central Park, but it couldn't compare to the stunning view Heather's penthouse offered.

“Let's get a snack,” Heather said. We walked down another hallway that felt almost hotel-like and entered the kitchen.

We'd no sooner sat on bar stools at the island in the kitchen than a smiling woman appeared. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun and she had on black pants and a white long-sleeve dress shirt.

“Welcome home, Heather,” she said.

“Thanks, Kay,” Heather said. “This is my friend Sasha, from school.”

I blinked when Heather said “friend,” but recovered. Sometimes it was still hard to even entertain the idea that we were friends now.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling at Kay.

“And you,” she said. “What can I make you girls?”

“A fruit and cheese plate would be great,” Heather said. “Do you have the Havarti cheese that I like?”

Kay nodded. “Sure do. I'll make you girls a plate right now.”

Kay got grapes, cantaloupe, honeydew melon, pineapple, and a handful of different cheeses out of the Sub-Zero fridge. The glass cabinets were filled with black plates, mugs, and bowls. Kay opened a cabinet near us and took out two glasses. I gulped a little. At home my favorite “glass” was a sparkly plastic cup with a horseshoe on it that Dad had won for me at the Connecticut State Fair. I'd dropped it a zillion times, and it always bounced off the kitchen floor. If I dropped one of
these
glasses, Mrs. Fox would probably make me become a maid for the week to work it off.

Something buzzed and Heather pulled her phone out of her pocket.

She typed a message and put her phone facedown on the counter.

“I love Julia, but she can be
so
annoying sometimes,” Heather said. She grabbed a green grape off the plate that Kay set in front of us. Heather was referring to one her BFFs and one-third of their clique—the Trio.

“What's up?” I asked. Heather and I had a tentative friendship, but I wasn't sure if she'd confide in me about Trio business.

Heather took her time placing a piece of Havarti cheese on a wheat cracker. She took a bite, then looked at me.

“Julia's ticked that you're spending break with me. I mean, it's not like she was going to, anyway—her parents planned a killer trip to Miami—but she's being weird that you and I are spending break together.”

“What about Alison?” I asked. “How's she acting?” Alison Robb was Heather's other best friend, and I was much closer to Alison than I was to Julia.

Heather waved her hand. “You know Alison likes you way more than Julia does. You did save them both from Jasmine, but Julia still has this thing with you. Alison thinks it's cool that you're here.”

Jasmine King was also on the list of things I didn't want to think about. She'd caused destruction the entire
time she'd been at Canterwood, until she'd finally been caught and expelled. I speared a strawberry with my fork.

“At least
one
of them thinks that,” I said. “Thanks again for letting me stay here. I really didn't want to stay on campus for a week.”

Heather leaned closer to me. “As if I wanted to stay
here
by myself for a week.”

She stopped talking and we finished the fruit, crackers, and cheese. I couldn't imagine how difficult summers and holidays were for Heather. Her mom wanted nothing to do with her, and I hadn't even seen Mr. Fox yet. No doubt he'd burst into the room and start questioning Heather about her riding and what she was doing to become the best rider at Canterwood. If Heather wasn't getting snarky comments from her mom, then she was getting grilled by her dad. No wonder she wanted someone—even someone she used to try to get kicked off the riding team—here with her during fall break.