Private 03 - Untouchable (9 page)

PAMPERED

"London is not getting a reduct," Kiran cried, pushing herself out of her cushy chair as her aesthetician finished her facial. She walked over to a slatted-wood counter, where twelve fresh mimosas were lined up, and grabbed one. "That girl lives for those double-D's."

"I'm just telling you what I heard," Taylor replied with a shrug.

"Call me crazy, but I don't believe half the stuff I hear at Easton," Natasha said wryly. A direct commentary on the other girls in the room, I knew.

"I thought you were supposed to be resting quietly," Noelle commented.

Natasha smiled beatifically. She was still lying back in her own chair with a cold blue pillow over her eyes, breathing in and out as instructed. Up until a few minutes ago, Kiran, Natasha, and I had been alone in the small, orange-blossom-scented room with our spa worker bees, but Noelle, Ariana, and Taylor had just rejoined us, having finished their treatments.

"Anyway, Taylor, you're missing an important detail of the story," Noelle said, laying her IF magazine aside.

Her facial having been finished just a few minutes before, she now sat on the leather couch in the corner with her face covered in purple shellac. Her hair was back in a white towel and her diamond earrings sparkled in her ears. She crossed her legs and her white, waffle-weave robe--standard issue from the spa and exactly like the ones we all wore--fell open to expose her entire thigh.

" London floated the rumor that she was getting a reduction so that Vienna would book one over Christmas break," Noelle told us.

"You know how the Twin Cities always need to one-up each other," Ariana put in. She stood against the wall, her arms crossed over her stomach and her legs crossed at the ankle. Her blond hair practically glowed in the soft pink light.

"The idea is that Vienna will come back from break all deflated," Noelle continued. "And London--"

"Will be the only Pam Anderson on campus," Kiran said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Now that's ingenious."

"Which is exactly why I don't buy it," Natasha said, still blinded. "This is London we're talking about. You know, the girl who asked me if strawberry milk would turn her bones pink?"

"She did not," Ariana said, her jaw dropping.

"Hand to God," Natasha replied, lifting a hand. "The best part being, of course, that I think she wanted them to be pink."

Everyone laughed, including me and the girl working on my 
face, whose name was Teresa. She shook her head as she finished touching up the area near my temples.

"Your friends are a rare breed," she said with a slight Italian accent.

"Tell me about it," I replied with a smile.

"Okay, you're all done," she told me. "Just relax for twenty minutes and then we'll come give you the final scrub and toner."

"Thank you," I told her, sitting up.

She handed me a glass of cucumber water and slipped from the room. A smile had attached itself to my face without my even thinking about it. My whole body felt so relaxed, it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. Every person on the planet should get a massage and facial every month. It should be an accepted part of normal life, like checkups or haircuts. I could only imagine how much more chill my mother would be if she was able to get pampered every once in a while. Maybe my childhood wouldn't have been all psychodrama all the time. Maybe she wouldn't feel the need to pop all those pills and take out any residual anger on me.

"You look happy," Ariana said, sipping her mimosa.

"I think I am happy," I said.

Noelle and Ariana exchanged an approving, triumphant look. At that moment, one of the cell phones lined up on the bench near the wall trilled. I recognized my ring and jumped down to get it. My heart gave a flutter when I saw Josh's name on the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Ariana asked.

"It's Josh."

I was about to flip the phone open when Noelle grabbed it out of my hand. "No men." She turned the phone off and placed it in the pocket of her robe.

"But I-"

"Eh! This is our day," Noelle said, lifting her finger. "No men."

I glanced at her pocket. What was I going to do, tackle her? Not likely. No one wanted to see the repercussions of that. Instead, I surrendered. I was not going to argue now. Not when I was feeling this good.

"Josh, huh?" Kiran said. "You two sure have been talking a lot lately."

Everyone was staring at me now, their faces green and purple and white. They were all silent, and for the first time since Noelle and the others had joined us, the soothing bamboo flute music that was being piped in from hidden speakers was actually discernable. I felt the familiar sourness of Thomas-guilt creeping over my shoulders and into my chest, but I refused to let it settle.

"I thought the rule was 'no men,'" I said, walking over to get a drink. "So I suggest we change the subject."

"She's right," Ariana said lightly. "What were we talking about again?"

"What were we talking about?" Kiran said, dropping her empty glass and reaching for another. "Oh, yes! Plastic surgery. Would you guys ever do it?"

"Are you kidding? To maintain this?" Noelle said, pointing at 
her purple face. "Of course. In fact . . ." She looked around conspiratorially as she slid back into one of the facial chairs. "I've already done it."

"You have?" I gasped.

"No! How did I not know this?" Kiran demanded.

"Come on, people. A nose like this does not exist in nature," Noelle said.

I stared at her nose. It was darn perfect. But I couldn't believe that Noelle hadn't been born her own, beautiful self. It felt almost wrong somehow, that she was even slightly less blessed that I'd believed.

"I had my chin fixed," Kiran put in. "When I was twelve."

"Your parents let you do that?" Natasha asked, appalled.

"My mother insisted on it," Kiran said with a shrug. "She said I'd never have a career with my wicked-witch chin, so . . . slice!"

She made a cutting motion with her hand under her chin. I cringed. This was very enlightening.

"Oh my God. That is just evil," Taylor said. "Even for your mother."

"Clarissa Hayes has been evil as long as I've known her," Noelle said matter-of-factly.

Kiran stared at a fixed point somewhere on the floor. 'Yeah, well, I wouldn't have a billboard in New York if she wasn't."

She swallowed an entire glassful of mimosa in one gulp.

"Has anyone else in Billings had something done?" Natasha asked. I got the idea she was changing the subject for Kiran's sake, 
rather than because of any real lust for dirt. Aside from the strawberry milk story, I'd never known her to gossip.

"I heard Cheyenne took growth hormones from age ten because the doctors predicted she'd only be four-eleven," Taylor said.

"So obvious," Noelle said. "Check the arms. Have you ever seen her sitting in class? They practically drag on the floor!"

Soon everyone was laughing and gossiping and drinking away any uncomfortableness caused by Josh's call or Kiran's evil mom. I had nothing to contribute, so I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes, and listened to the chatter.

SAVING TAYLOR

As Natasha and I padded back down the hallway after our manicures and pedicures in our spa-issue slippers, I was perfectly relaxed. My face tingled, my nails were thick with polish, and my feet were softer than pillows. Was this how Kiran and the other girls felt all the time, just walking around on a normal day? Because if so, I could almost understand why they acted so superior. I felt undeniably beautiful.

I wished Thomas could see me. And when I wished it, sorrow seeped into my heart. But it was a softer kind of sorrow than the red-hot anger and confusion I had been feeling for so long. It was a nostalgic, wistful sorrow. A kind that didn't send me hurtling over the edge.

"So, was this a good idea?" Natasha whispered. There was something about the hushed, opulent vibe of this place that made a person want to whisper. "I wasn't sure."

"It was a great idea," I told her. "I almost feel like myself again. Whatever that means."

Natasha's freshly waxed brows came together. "I don't think anyone really knows what that means."

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or if it's just really, really sad," I replied. We both smirked. Deep conversations were for another time.

I pushed open the slatted door to the locker area and stopped. Instantly, I recognized the distinct snorts and sniffles of Taylor's sobs. Natasha and I exchanged a look and neither of us moved. A silent agreement. Suddenly I felt all kinds of close to her. We were conspiring together. Me and Natasha. Considering how much conspiring had been done all around and about me since my arrival at Easton, it felt sort of good to be on the other side.

"It's going to be okay," Kiran said in a soothing voice. I'd never heard her sound so gentle. "Taylor, please. Just try to calm down."

Taylor gasped in a breath. "I just... I just... I just. . . can't--"

"I can't take this anymore," Noelle said. "Taylor, I swear to God, if you don't freaking chill the hell out in the next five seconds, I cannot be held responsible for the shit fit I'm going to throw."

Taylor whimpered, like a hungry dog that had just been kicked by its master. Natasha's and my eyes met. All right, enough was enough. I was "one of them" now, wasn't I? Hadn't they told me that a dozen times? No more secrets and all of that. I had to know what was going on in there.

And saving Taylor from whatever Noelle's "shit fit" would bring seemed like a wise idea.

"Hey, guys!" I said, striding into the small room as if I had just walked in. Natasha, on the ball as ever, fell right in behind me. I looked around at Noelle, Taylor, Ariana, and Kiran, who stood in a square in the center of the room. "Everything okay?"

Taylor turned away from me and ran for the bathroom.

"Where did you come from?" Kiran asked.

"We just got back and I heard Taylor crying," I said. "What's wrong?"

"She's just freaking out because she was rejected from that summer program at Harvard," Noelle said, turning to her locker. "She just called home and found out."

"Getting in would have guaranteed her a spot in their freshman class year after next," Ariana explained. "She so wants to go there," she added, looking pityingly toward the bathroom.

"And on top of everything else that's been happening ..." Kiran said.

I instantly felt horrible for begrudging Taylor all her tears and mood swings. Somehow I had forgotten that every one of us had other stuff going on. All Taylor's notebooks and folders were stamped with the Harvard University logo. I knew she wanted to go there more than anything and that everyone at Easton, and in her family, expected her to. There was a lot of pressure on her to succeed. Maybe Thomas's death was just screwing with her already raw emotions.

"That sucks," Natasha said. She crossed the room and opened her own locker. "But there has to be someone she could talk to. It's not like we have no connections at Harvard."

Right. Didn't being a Billings Girl guarantee things like this? Automatic acceptance to whatever one wanted acceptance to?

"That's a good point, Natasha," Ariana said, sounding oddly detached. "We should look into that when we get back."

Natasha and I exchanged a look. There was something weird about the way they were all talking. It was too antiseptic. Too clipped.

"And she could still get in next year, right?" I suggested. "It's just not a given."

"Very true," Noelle said calmly, turning away from me to pack her bag. "You should remind her of that when we get in the car."

"Okay," I said. "Maybe I will."

I stepped up next to Natasha to open my locker and she widened her eyes at me and shrugged. Call me crazy, but I don't believe half the stuff I hear at Easton, I heard her say in my mind. Words to live by.

PODUNK COPS

Somehow, we were back on campus early that afternoon. I felt like I had been gone for days. Years. That was how different I felt from the angry, tense, scared (I did have a blindfold over my eyes) person who had left that morning.

Now I was energized. My skin practically sizzled and my hair felt freakishly soft against my face. Since I hadn't been allowed to shower that morning, Noelle had treated me to a shampoo, deep condition, and blowout before we left--a ridiculously expensive blowout. But worth every penny, especially since I hadn't paid for it.

I pulled some of my wavy brown locks in front of my eyes, just to see how shiny they were. Unbelievable. This could not be my hair.

"Look at her. You'd think no one had ever shampooed the girl before," Noelle said as we made our way around Bradwell.

"What are you gonna do next? Throw your arms out and twirl?" Kiran asked.

I paused, embarrassed. "Actually, I was about to say thank you, but you guys make it so hard. ..."

"Sorry." Noelle stopped in her tracks and the other girls lined up beside her. "Proceed."

"With what?" I asked.

"The thank you," Noelle replied.

They all looked at me expectantly--even Taylor, with her bloodshot eyes.

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes slightly just so that they wouldn't think they had me entirely under their thumbs. "Thanks, you guys. Really. I actually feel almost normal. Like, I don't know, like life might actually go on. And I just--"

Suddenly, I realized that Noelle's gaze had wandered past me and over my shoulder. Gradually, all the other girls looked as well. Their expressions changed so abruptly I felt the stone path tilt beneath my feet.

What now?

When I turned around, I saw Dash and Gage stalking toward us with military stiffness. Dash's nostrils were almost as wide as Missy Thurber's, who could have snout-doubled for Seabiscuit. He had a rolled-up newspaper in his hand.

"What happened?" Noelle asked as the boys arrived, blustering and short of breath.

"They let the prick go. They let the freakin' prick go," Dash said.

"They didn't," Ariana said.

Dash shoved the newspaper at Noelle and Ariana, his hands trembling. Slowly, Noelle took the paper in both hands. It was a local publication I had seen around campus before. The headline read Murder Suspect Freed. Beneath it was a picture of a person I assumed to be Rick DeLea walking out of the Easton police station.

"He came up with an alibi," Gage said. "Some crackhead girlfriend, no doubt. We should've known. These podunk cops'll take care of their own over us any day. Even if he is a scum-sucking drug dealer."

Thomas was a scum-sucking drug dealer, too.

I don't know why that was the first thought that came into my head, but it was. And even though it was the truth, I felt guilty for thinking it.

"I don't believe this," Noelle said. "I thought we had this all under control."

"We?" Dash said.

"We. They. You really want to debate pronouns with me right now?" Noelle snapped.

Her skin looked shiny with sweat, and her hand was over her mouth. Seeing her look so thrown was almost more disconcerting than the news itself. Turning in Rick the Townie had been her idea, and clearly, she didn't enjoy being wrong. I glanced at Ariana and Kiran and Taylor. Everyone looked like wide-eyed caricatures of themselves. I wondered if their stomachs felt as tight and empty and sick as mine did. If the police were right, then Thomas's killer was still out there.

"What're we going to do?" I heard myself say.

No one replied. Natasha reached out and slipped her arm around mine, pulling me to her. I had thought this whole thing was over. I had thought the police had done their job.

But now I saw that this was never going to end. That I was going to feel this way forever.

How to Go from on Top of the World to Rock Bottom in Less Than Five Seconds: A Cautionary Tale, by Reed Brennan.