Dream a Little Dream (The Silver Trilogy) (F) (10 page)

I nodded.

“Crazy!” said Persephone even more enthusiastically. “The Tittle-Tattle blog is always up to date with the latest developments. Wow! I bet there are advantages to being Grayson Spencer’s future little sister.” She patted my hand. “Of course he can’t take you to the Autumn Ball himself, but he and Florence are sure to try pairing you off with one of their friends. The only question is who?”

“What’s a tittle-tattle blog?” It sounded somehow improper. And why couldn’t Grayson go to the ball with me? That was a purely theoretical question, of course.

“You’re too young for Jasper—you’re only fifteen, right?—and probably not pretty enough for Arthur, but then, who
is
pretty enough for Arthur?” Persephone sighed deeply, and I couldn’t help feeling that she wasn’t talking to me anymore, she was thinking out loud. And without stopping to take a breath or bothering about my confused expression. “That leaves Henry Harper—but could anyone get him to go to a dance? However hard I try, I can’t imagine him in evening dress. Last year, anyway, he was conspicuous by his absence from the Autumn Ball, and he wasn’t at the end-of-year ball either. Of course I know about the rumor that he and Anabel Scott … but I mean,
hello
? No one really believes it, Tittle-Tattle or no Tittle-Tattle.”

My God, what on earth was the matter with her? And was it catching? I instinctively edged a little farther away from her, but Persephone moved to close the gap between us again. “Then again, Secrecy always has a good nose for these things. She knew when it was all over between Madison and Jasper—even before they knew it themselves.”

Mrs. Lawrence, the French teacher, had come into the classroom and asked for quiet, but unfortunately Persephone wasn’t about to let that stop her. “If Florence has her way, I bet you’ll have to go with Emily Clark’s pimply brother,” she said, still thinking aloud. “But better to go to the ball with Sam the Pimple than not at all. I went with Ben Ryan last year, and it didn’t bother me. I’m so fed up with waiting for Jasper to remember my name, or even register my existence at all. As a girl, I mean. This year I’m going with Gabriel. He owes Pandora a favor—he’s on the basketball team too—and believe you me, I’ll make sure it’s the best evening of his life. Because of course the boys talk in the locker room, and Gabriel will say such enthusiastic things about me to Jasper that he’ll be pale with envy and never call me Aphrodite again, and—”

“I said
un petit peu de silence, s’il vous plaît
, and that means you too, Persephone!” Mrs. Lawrence was standing in front of us, frowning, and she looked really annoyed. All the same, I’d never been so glad to see a teacher in my life.

“
Pardon, madame
. Liv is new, so she has a lot of questions,” said Persephone with an apologetic flutter of her eyelids. “Hush for now, Liv,” she hissed in a loud stage whisper. “We can talk about it later.” With that, she leaned over her books again, and I looked at my watch, feeling exhausted. Wow! She’d mentioned at least thirty-seven names and the same number of facts in just two minutes, and I didn’t understand a word of it. However, I did know one thing for certain: I wouldn’t be going anywhere with Emily Thingummy’s pimply brother.

T
ITTLE
-T
ATTLE
B
LOG

The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, with all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals from our school.

ABOUT ME:

My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know
all
your secrets.

4 September, 8:30 a.m.

Good morning, darlings!

To wake you up right away, here’s a photo I managed to take just now. Voilà—the new owner of locker number 0013.

So what do you think of Liv Silver, Class Eleven, our new student at Frognal Academy? Her father is a famous German nuclear physicist, and her mother, a professor of literature who will be lecturing at Oxford, is soon going to marry Grayson and Florence Spencer’s father. At least, they’re all moving in together in October. Liv’s little sister, Mia, is in Class Eight, and they both have the same exciting hair color. It’s probably known as moonlight blond, and it’s exactly the color of the streaks that Hazel Pritchard got the hairdresser to put in her own hair at the price of ninety pounds. Only, in the Silver sisters’ hair it’s natural and comes for free—chance would be a fine thing, don’t you agree, Hazel? I’ve heard some criticism of the glasses both sisters wear, but personally I think they’re kind of stylish. Hey, Grayson, soon you’ll have three sisters—congratulations. And what a good thing Emily isn’t the jealous type.…

Next week the basketball season starts again, a good opportunity to take a closer look at Arthur and Co. After the Frognal Flames played so outstandingly well last season, winning the Schools’ Cup, to everyone’s surprise, I’m expecting a full house in the spectators’ stands this season encouraging our boys. Aesthetically speaking, those sloppy shirts they wear are the worst (even polo kit has more sex appeal), but all the same I don’t object to the sweaty sight of our Four Musketeers: Arthur Hamilton, Henry Harper, Grayson Spencer, and the three-point king, Jasper Grant.

So have a good day here at school—oh, and if you want it to be a
really
good day, mind you steer clear of Mr. Daniels. He must have ordered a pound of raw onions with his doner kebab at the Turkish restaurant last night.

See you soon!

Love from Secrecy

Tittletattleblog.com

11

THE FROGNAL ACADEMY LIBRARY
had fourteen computer desks, with access to the Internet included, and all fourteen of them were empty. Presumably because everyone but me had a tablet or a smartphone and could update their Facebook status at five-minute intervals. But there wasn’t much going on around here at midday in any event; there wasn’t anyone around except for one of the smaller boys sitting in a corner reading. I chose a screen right at the back, where I couldn’t be seen from the door, just in case it came into Persephone’s head to look for me here. She’d obviously decided to be best friends with me from now on. It had nothing to do with a sudden liking for my company, but I guess my connection with the Spencers made up for the absence of diamond mines or diplomatic parents in the family. It would have been much nicer if she’d gone on ignoring me, and above all much quieter. She even followed me to the toilets, where she kept on nattering. I’d slipped out of the cafeteria and come here on the pretext of looking for my sister—I thought I’d rather do without lunch than spend another minute with Persephone.

And now I had three-quarters of an hour for valuable research. First I wanted to check whether Persephone really had found her information about the merging of our family with the Spencers in a blog. And sure enough, searching for the terms “Grayson Spencer,” “Liv Silver,” and “Frognal Academy” led me straight to a page that called itself the Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, written by someone who gave her name as Secrecy. The latest entry was time stamped eight thirty that morning. I held my breath for a moment as I recognized the lead item: a photograph of me just as I was opening my locker.

Oh, shit.

I quickly read the text under it twice running, to make sure that my eyes hadn’t deceived me. Then I took a deep breath. Moonlight blond, indeed! This girl Secrecy (or was Secrecy a boy?) was very well informed—except that the bit about Papa was wrong: he was neither famous nor a nuclear physicist, and as an engineer he worked mainly on the development of hybrid cars. But the rest of it was right—and how horrifying was that? She or he had been lying in wait for me near the lockers to take that photo.
I’m right here among you, and I know
all
your secrets.

I scrolled down to earlier entries and began reading. The style and content reminded me a little of the trashy magazines I loved to look at in the dentist’s waiting room, except that the blog wasn’t devoted to celebrities, actors, and the European aristocracy but was all about the students and teachers of Frognal Academy and their families. Secrecy apparently knew everything. She revealed clandestine relationships and knew who was splitting up from whom and why. Her articles were pitiless and malicious. And admittedly, also
very
entertaining.

It was just about miraculous that no one seemed to have found out who she was yet—half the people she had exposed in her blog must entertain murderous feelings about her, that was for sure. And the other half would want to pluck out all her hairs one by one, at the very least. But she also had any number of fans, judging by the comments.

“
Don’t even try to find out who I am, because so far no one has managed it
”—that read to me like a personal challenge. I just couldn’t resist puzzles and mysteries. In any case, someone who knew Florence or Grayson well must be hiding behind the name of Secrecy, because only they knew about Mom and Ernest’s plans. And only since yesterday evening at that. Or had Secrecy simply happened to eavesdrop on a conversation by chance? Did she have undercover informers? Did she have up-to-date bugging methods? Was she hacking into private e-mail accounts?

Someone put a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. I’d been so deep in thought that I hadn’t paid any attention to the movements I’d seen out of the corner of my eye.

To my relief, however, it wasn’t Persephone who had tracked me down, but Grayson. Thanks to Secrecy, I now knew that Grayson was an outstandingly good basketball player, that he was deputy editor of the students’ magazine
reflexx
, and that he had broken the heart of a girl called Maisie Brown last year because he’d taken Florence’s best friend, Emily Clark, to the Autumn Ball instead of her. (Ah, that would almost certainly be Emily with the pimply brother—I was beginning to get an idea of the situation.)

“Hi,” whispered Grayson.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

Then I noticed that he wasn’t on his own. A little way off, Jasper was perched on the edge of a table, and Henry was leaning against some shelves beside him, with his arms crossed.

For a second I felt I’d gone back into my dream, and I saw myself dropping out of the cedar tree right in front of their feet again.
I was a barn owl a moment ago, honest.

Luckily my arm was lying over my notebook, so Grayson couldn’t read what I had been writing, but he’d had a good chance to see what was on the screen.

“Don’t you like your paparazzi photo?” he asked, still in a whisper. “You got off lightly—she snapped me with an icicle on my nose.”

I giggled. I must definitely look for that photo later. Jasper and Henry were openly watching us, but at least they couldn’t hear what we were saying so long as we stuck to whispering. I closed my notebook and leaned my elbows on it.

“How do you know Secrecy is a she?” I asked.

Grayson shrugged his shoulders. “Well, a boy wouldn’t be able to write so knowledgeably about the lace and frills on ball dresses.”

“Unless he does it on purpose to be taken for a girl.”

“Hmm. I never thought of that.” He scratched his nose, and I noticed that the words had disappeared from his wrist. They really had been felt pen. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from Persephone Porter-Peregrin, my new best friend. How about you?”

“We, er … incidentally, these are
my
best friends. I think you’ve met Jasper and Henry.” He sighed. “And this is Arthur.”

Sure enough, Arthur had appeared behind Henry and Jasper. “You can talk out loud, Grayson,” he said. “Our dear Miss Cooper has gone for lunch and is leaving the library in good hands.” Smiling, he came toward us. Henry and Jasper left their observation posts and strolled closer too.

“Hi. You must be Grayson’s new little sister. Liv, is that right?”

I nodded. My God, Secrecy was right, he really was the best-looking boy in the Western Hemisphere. Those angelic golden curls! They’d have made any other boy look like a girl, but they suited him perfectly. In daylight he didn’t look at all uncanny, more the opposite. My short-term memory made the information I’d just picked up from the Tittle-Tattle blog into a kind of Wanted poster up beside his head before my mind’s eyes.

ARTHUR HAMILTON, AGE 18. Captain of the basketball team. In a (long-distance) relationship with Anabel Scott. Favorite subjects: sports and math. Favorite color: blue. Cautioned by the police for violent behavior last winter. Father: managing director of a large advertising agency. Family has their own private cinema at home.

“So how do you like it at Frognal?”

“Seems to be very … interesting here,” I said.