Private Feelings
Reed
I can see it now.
All too clearly.
It was a bright spring day, and my class was on the playground. We'd been told to pair up and bunch into thick brown sacks. Far across the field, I saw what appeared to be the finish line...and that was when I began to smile, knowing that this was one race I could win.
Three seconds later, I'd begun looking for a partner. Three minutes later...I was doing the very same thing.
As usual, barely anyone else appeared to be having this problem. The other kids got welcome smiles, fast high-fives. I got cold glances, turned heads.
I was quite young at that stage, but I'd already learned a poignant lesson in life: No one wants to play with the "smart girl."
Getting high marks and gold stars had brought me much pride on a scholarly level...but much isolation on a personal one. After a while, the teachers intervened and paired me up with someone — someone who did a fair amount of whining, and a fair amount of complaining.
Then a grown-up said "Go!" — and the hopping commenced. Halfway toward the finish line, the girl at my side started making a real effort. It was at this point that we'd pulled ahead of the crowd, and realized we had a good chance of winning. We were almost there, almost at our goal...when suddenly I tripped, and stumbled to the ground. Naturally, she fell right along with me.
Moments later, the contest ended, and the winners were announced. As my partner and I prepared to stand, we saw several of our classmates — kids who hadn't participated in the race — running over to lend their aid. We both reached out our hands...but only one of us was helped up.
Seconds afterward, the small crowd walked away while chatting with my partner, and I was left lying there — still, silent...and alone.
Then the vision ended.
Slowly, I opened my eyes — and closed my thoughts. I tried very hard to push the memory away, and wished very hard that it would stop invading my dreams.
My surroundings began to sink in.
I was lying still, in a bed, curled up on my side in a long shady room. Three tall windows reached up to the ceiling, casting three tall shadows across the honey-colored floor. A seemingly endless amount of snow fell beside the exquisite panes of glass, and every few seconds, I saw the shadow of a swaying branch flutter across the wall.
It all came back to me now. The storm. The mansion.
With a long, quiet sigh, I closed my eyes again, then opened them and sat myself up. Though my arrangements were comfortable, I technically wasn't in an actual bed after all — just a couple of matresses that I and my companion had collected and stacked. She didn't have a guest bed in her room, because apparently, she didn't have many visitors over.
Pulling aside the covers, I took a moment to glance at the silk pajamas she'd provided me with once again. Then I picked myself up, turned around, and had a long look at the morning sky.
Moments later, I took a glance at the door, and made my way out of the room and down a long and beautiful stairway. On more than one occasion, I found myself pausing to stare as I walked through the mansion. It hadn't taken long for me to stop being impressed, and to start being amazed. As I glanced at all of her belongings, a certain truth began to sink in: Anything that we both had, Ivy's was better.
I glimpsed an incredibly complex stereo system, so shiny and unfamiliar that I imagined it wasn't even in stores yet. I felt an unbelievably plush carpet, so soft and fuzzy that I looked back to see if I was leaving prints. And I saw an amazingly big, "big-screen TV," so notably large that I couldn't help wondering why anyone would even need such a thing.
Then I recalled something else: For people in Ivy's circle, matters such as these had nothing to do with need, and everything to do with want. Girls like her lived a life of luxury, a life of beauty...and the kind of life that I'd always envied.
...Hadn't I?
After a moment's pause, the answer to my query slowly sunk in. I thought about the first time I'd heard of Easton, the first time I'd seen the Billings Girls. On both of those occasions, desire and envy had filled me to the brim.
Indeed, I was drawn to people like Ivy, and I was drawn to places like this. For some reason, the world of privilege held an undeniable allure. It had never really been a question of what I wanted...
It was just a question of why I wanted it.
Then I saw the open doorway, saw the hands at the kitchen table. The rest of her body was obscured by the wall. Moving closer, I took a peek inside, prompting her to glance up from the book. "Hey..." I offered quietly.
"Hey," said Ivy. She was still in the purple nightgown, but her hair was now down and partly fastened back with a clip. "All yours," she said, motioning to the plate across from hers.
"Thanks," I replied, slowly taking a seat. To my surprise, steam was rising from the food. "Wow," I said under my breath, "still warm..."
Her eyes were on the book. "I know what time you wake up. I certainly heard you leave the dorm often enough."
A soft chuckle escaped my lips. Very quickly, I began thinking back to what she'd said last night, I recalled what her current purpose in life was. "You really do dedicate yourself — when you plan on carrying something through, I mean."
She held her serious eyes on the pages. "Absolutely."
While chewing, I watched her for a moment. Ivy Slade was one of the most committed people I'd ever known. Given the circumstances, it could either be her most admirable trait...or her biggest vice. While eyeing her closely, I found myself hoping that she could keep that passion on its present course, that she could keep it focused on something good.
I hoped so for her family's sake, for Billings', and above all, for her own.
"What's so funny?" Her tone was quiet and composed, but I saw the slightest hint of a smile appearing. At the same time, she lifted the book, as though to hide her expression.
"Nothing," I said after another soft chuckle. "It's just...believe it or not, I sort of imagined this once. I figured something like this could happen sometime — I just didn't think that it'd be so soon."
Ivy and I were on a couch now, one of the widest and most comfortable I'd ever encountered. She was lying back and running her eyes across the page, while I was sitting cross-legged and applying a neon-green polish to her toenails. Silence was the only reply I received, and upon looking up, I saw a calm-faced reader — one who was so quiet and so placid that she reminded me a little too much of the stoic girl I'd seen at the beginning of the year.
Lowering my gaze, I suddenly became aware of a silver lining: In all the silence, I'd finally realized how to say something I'd been wanting to since last night. "I've tried calling, you know..."
She simply kept her eyes on the book.
I briefly glanced upward. "Since you got out of the hospital, I mean..."
Ivy remained quiet.
I could feel my skin tingling, threatening to turn a stark shade of red. How many hints did I need to drop? How many implied questions was it going to take? Would she really make me come right out and ask how she was doing? Furthermore, would she really make me acknowledge — right out in the open — that the only reason she'd been victimized was because Sabine had been after me? Couldn't she tell I was feeling guilty? Couldn't she see I was trying to show it?
After a while, I briefly closed my eyes, then licked my lips for a second. I realized that there was no easy way to go about this, which was why I needed to stop looking for one. "Listen..." I paused, lifting my gaze again, "I'm sorry, about...you know. I'm sorry that my business with Sabine — and Ariana — came to hurt you."
Ivy held her eyes on the page a moment...then lowered the book, looking away.
For a while, I didn't say anything, and neither did she. I imagined that we'd both known we could only put this moment off for so long.
"She fired the shot...not you." There was a clear conflict in her tone. It didn't entirely sound like she was saying, "I don't resent you," but it did sound like she was saying, "I absolve you." Moments later, Ivy turned her gaze to mine, as though to confirm her statement.
With a look of awkwardness, which gave way to a slightly appreciative grin, I quietly spoke up. "Thank you."
She nodded. "Thank you, too."
We both returned our eyes to their previous targets. After a bit more silence, I became curious about something. "So, why haven't you been answering the phone?"
"I told you. For a little while I was left feeling empty, and I didn't know why."
"I know, but, why didn't you want to talk to anyone about it. If not me, or...Josh...then why not anyone else?"
"No one else has been calling." She said it bluntly, unabashedly.
A brief pause came over me after I heard that. "Why not?" I muttered. And that was when I began to wonder something else. Looking upward, I stared at her closely, thinking about the few girls I'd seen her with while talking to Detective Hauer. "Why don't you have real friends? Actual friends?"
There was a slight delay in her response, a slight hint of doubt in her tone. "I do have friends."
"No, you have admirers." I could tell that most of the girls she hung out with — or rather, the girls who hung around her — were more interested in Ivy's status than in Ivy herself. I imagined that she mainly spent time with them when she was feeling lonely.
After a while, she spoke up again, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the page. "Why don't you tell me what real friendship is, Reed."
Great. And here we go again with the condescending talk. "You..." I paused. "You don't have to get defensive."
"I'm not. Seriously, give me your opinion of a real friendship. Tell me what you think it's founded on."
A certain word came to mind, and I shrugged as I said it — speaking as though I could tell there was something she wanted to hear. "Trust?" Immediately afterwards, my eyes began wandering elsewhere, and it slowly dawned on me that I'd answered my own question.
"...I think you know how that worked out for me last time."
I tried pushing the thoughts of Cheyenne from my mind, ashamed that I'd unwittingly brought her up. I could tell that Ivy didn't like saying what she did, and didn't like thinking about it.
"The reason I haven't made many 'real' friends since coming back to Easton, is because it isn't a very trustworthy place."
"All right..." I said. Fair enough. "But to me, it seems like you're hardly willing to even give anyone the opportunity."
She glanced up. "What opportunity?"
"To earn your trust."
Her gaze fell to her lap. "That's not true."
"Really?" I lifted my eyebrows. "Stop me if you're heard this story: One girl walks up to the other's table. She extends a friendly greeting. The girl at the table rejects it. Then—"
"Let's just say I've been less willing to give the opportunity to certain people than others." She paused, running her eyes over me. "Or at least, that was the case back then."
"So why did I fall into the category of those you were 'less willing' to give the opportunity to?"
She looked away. "You know why."
I stared her over. "Because I was a Billings Girl?"
After a pause, as though she was confirming something to herself, Ivy nodded. "That was part of it."
Immediately, I became curious as to what the other part was. "What do you mean?"
She eyed me again. "Believe it or not, I learned a little about you before we met."
Oh, I believed it; her statement about Thomas had confirmed that. But wait...was she trying to tell me that she'd learned more? I lowered my eyebrows, letting the curiosity show in plain sight.
"When you approached the table that day, my guard automatically went up. I couldn't help being suspicious...I couldn't help wondering if you'd been drawn to me for superficial reasons — the same as my 'admirers' are."
The next word was slow to leave my mouth. "Why?" I couldn't sound entirely perplexed...because unfortunately, I wasn't.
"I found out."
My cheeks were warming up. It wasn't fun being on the receiving end of that statement, especially when you weren't sure what the other person meant.
"With you being a new Billings Girl," she nodded, "I found out a thing or two. I came to realize just how badly you wanted to get into Billings." She went quiet a moment, simply watching me closely. "That sort of thing means a lot to you, doesn't it?" A hint of confirmation had crept into her tone, the sneaky kind that suggests a question isn't really a question.
"What sort of thing?" I tried my best to sound like I didn't know what she was referring to.
"The glitz. The glamour. The privileged life that comes with being a Billings Girl. The posh, attractive people you meet."
"I..."
"You like being around people like that, don't you?"
I simply went quiet.
"So that goes back to what I was saying," she continued. "What prompted you to even approach me in the first place? What was the first thing on your mind?"
Very quickly, I began reviewing possible answers. Of course, I could simply state a certain truth — that I'd wanted to ask her about Taylor...but actually, that wasn't the first thing on my mind when I considered approaching Ivy that day, it was the second. Or third.
After another brief silence, my head sagged. Much as I didn't like to acknowledge this...it seemed she had a point. After a few seconds I glanced up again.
It was Ivy, now, who slowly averted her gaze, then lifted an eyebrow. "Are looks really that important to you? Is glamour really that alluring?"
It's tempting to automatically say "no" when you're accused of something personal, but in some cases, it's also hard to.
"Are you instantly drawn to attractive people, attractive places?" She ran her eyes over me a second. "Is that what initially got you interested in Josh?"
A quick chill stirred my spine. "No." I paused. I waited. "...Maybe."
"Is that why you like him?"
"No," I repeated, feeling that chill again. Upon settling down a few seconds later, I took a short breath, shifted a little on the couch, focused on what I had to say...and knew that I was saying it with certainty. "I may have partly been drawn to him for superficial reasons...but no more than normal in that case." Meaning it was unrelated to what Ivy was describing. "And as for why I like him, it has little to do with who he is on the outside, and a lot to do with who he is within."
Ivy licked her lips, giving me a soft, almost cautious look. I could tell she believed what I'd said.
"What drew you to him?"
Her eyebrows flinched, and the cautiousness on her face stirred a little. I hadn't meant to, but I'd struck a sensitive spot.
There was something I wanted to know, but I suddenly lowered my voice, choosing to tread lightly. "Did it have to do with your purpose at the time?" A bit of awkwardness crossed my face. "The vendetta?"
"No." She paused. She waited. And then, she said something familiar. "...Maybe."
I stared.
"Look, you may not believe it, but I also like Josh for who he is inside."
I shrugged. "Actually..." a slight grin crossed my face, "I do believe it." I nodded. "It certainly isn't the hardest thing to believe."
Ivy lowered her gaze a few seconds, then looked back up at me. "No...I guess it isn't."
We eyed each other warmly for a moment. Warmly, yet regretfully.
It wasn't long afterwards that her eyes returned to the book. My eyes returned to the polish.
Silence filled the room for a little while.
"On the topic of why I don't have 'actual' friends," she spoke up again, "I could ask the same thing about you."
I locked my eyes onto her. "Pardon?"
She closed the book suddenly, and began looking me over again. "So here's what I don't get: You already had a lot going for you, so why was getting into Billings so important? Why is posh glamour so important?"
"I..." Wait. Was there a compliment in all that? Another one? "I have a lot going for me?"
"Please. Save the modesty act. We both know what you've accomplished academically. We both know what you've accomplished athletically." She watched me, running her fingers along the book's cover. I could tell she'd begun to recall the same things she'd asked before. "Why did getting into some 'elite sisterhood' matter so much to you?" Her eyes examined mine, as though searching for the answer. "It couldn't have been a matter of low self-esteem, because you're not exactly the type who has reasons for that."
I chuckled. "Why, thank you, Dr. Slade."
She didn't appear to be in a joking mood. After a few moments, Ivy looked at me plainly...then shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. Her expression told the story: She'd confided in me last night, so wasn't it my turn now?
I sighed, and looked back down. We both returned our attention elsewhere.
On a few occasions in the long silence that followed, I could feel her curious gaze again, heating up my face like sunlight. Eventually, I simply paused in my work, thinking deeply on what I was about to say. Once I was finally sure that all ten of her toes hadn't gone anywhere, I slowly looked away and began to mumble something. "It has to do with exactly what you said — the 'sisterhood' aspect."
She simply listened.
"When I was a little girl...I didn't have very many friends." I had to pause, letting the deep breath come and go. "I was something of an overachiever in school. I was a top student in most of my classes, and the other kids resented me for that." I glanced up, just long enough to see that Ivy's curious eyes were still on me. "I pretty much grew up isolated, and I had a rather mundane, dull childhood because of it." At least, it was dull outside of my house. Naturally, things had been a bit more memorable within my family, but not in a very pleasant way.
Ivy held her lips closed for a moment, making a slight nod as she looked me over. "I grew up an overachiever too."
I recalled what she'd mentioned about her mother.
"And I grew up alone most of the time as well." Then she paused, watching me closely. "To an extent, it sounds like we each had an isolated, mundane upbringing. The reasons were simply different."
My lips parted as I watched Ivy.
"But the results were different as well," she confirmed. "Fact is, I never cared as much as you about getting into Billings. I was never as determined as you were to become a Billings Girl."
"Because you're already a match for them glamour-wise."
"No, because I simply didn't feel the same desire that you did — the desire to surround myself with people of that variety. My closest friend was Cheyenne Martin, and I knew her long before she got into Billings."
I went quiet.
"...This isn't an attack on your choices, Reed. You can associate yourself with whoever you want to. I'm not exactly criticizing it, I'm simply wondering about it.
"You're saying you grew up isolated. Fine. Perfectly understandable that you'd eventually want friends. It's the kind you wanted that we're discussing. You didn't just want girls, you wanted Billings Girls. And before that, you didn't just want an academy, you wanted Easton Academy." She paused a few seconds. "Why is it that you want to surround yourself with the 'very best'?"
My arms were now crossed, and I was looking down at them, quietly leaning back and forth. "That's not entirely true. When I was in Billings...I had non-Billings friends too."
"...But you made sure that they were complemented by your 'sisters,' didn't you? You made sure that there was always a little glamour in your life."
I waved the statement off. "I may have initially been drawn to the Billings Girls for superficial reasons, but I've grown to appreciate them for who they are inside. They're all true friends of mine now."
"Is that so?" Ivy lifted her eyebrows a second. "If I recall correctly, two of those 'true' friends turned on you. One wasn't such a 'true' friend after all."
Once again, I became quiet.
"And how long will it be until another of those 'true' friends becomes a true enemy?"
I didn't answer that. I didn't want to.
She opened up her book again, lowering her eyes to the page. "It goes without saying that you and I haven't always been close..."
I simply listened.
"But I can say this much about our relationship: You've never had to worry about fronts. You've never had to worry about honesty. With me, what you see is what you get."
I remained silent and still for a while after hearing that. In time, a tiny grin crossed my face, and I slowly nodded to myself. Not long afterwards, I thought of someone else who I could apply the same statement to...thought of all the many times that it had been true of her.
And it was around then that I began to feel the first trace of dampness in my eyes.
The snow continued to fall, and I was watching it from a chair now. Ivy was standing right behind me, doing a variety of work on my hair.
"Reed," she broke the silence, "...are you crying?"
It would've been easy to simply say "no," but pointless when she could just take a peek and see for herself. "...I'm okay."
She was quiet a moment. "What's the matter?"
I brushed a hand across my face. "Just thinking about someone...that's all." I watched the window for a while before speaking again. "My mom has these problems. She's had them her whole life. They've made her a recurring addict at times."
Ivy's hands became gentler.
I sniffed. "And when I look for the root of those problems...I think about some of the stories I've heard — stories about her upbringing. I think about the people she grew up with, the places she grew up in."
Ivy stayed completely quiet.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes, opened them, and finally said something I didn't want to say. "You were right about what you said before. I surround myself with glamourous places, 'successful' people." A tear rolled down my cheek as I confirmed a certain truth. "I do that because I believe it's the way to avoid following my mom's path. I'm not ashamed of her, I just don't want her issues to become my own."
Once again, silence filled the room for a while.
"You know," said Ivy, "you gave me a certain label earlier — 'Dr. Slade' — suggesting that I was some sort of therapist or something.
"I'm not. I can't give you a professional perspective, but I can give you a personal one: A posh lifestyle has nothing to do with need, and everything to do with want."
I lifted an eyebrow.
"That's why you're wrong if you think you need to surround yourself with 'glamourous places,' and 'successful people,' in order to be on the right path.
"If you want to find your way, you don't need to approach others, you just need to take a long hard look at yourself."
Everything seemed to stop as I listened closely.
"It's like I said earlier, you've got a lot going for you, Reed — academically, athletically — and if you keep it up..." she paused, her words trailing off, "...then that's all you're really going to need, in order to avoid making your life a reoccurrence of someone else's."
I'd noticed something in Ivy's voice. For a second, it sounded as though she was surprising herself by saying what she had. And if she wasn't surprised by it, I certainly was. "Th-Thanks..." I said with stunned eyes.
She cleared her throat suddenly. "Sure...whatever." She said it casually, quietly, as though she was trying to make me forget, as though she was trying to take those private feelings and make them hidden once more.
"So anyway, if you want to be a Billings Girl again, that's one thing — just don't think that it's what you need to do."
I lowered my gaze to my lap. "I'll keep that in mind." Though I was surprised to feel it, a slight grin arrived seconds later. "You know, I said something else earlier too."
"And what was that?"
"I said that I may have been drawn to certain people for superficial reasons, but I'd grown to appreciate them for who they'd revealed themselves to be inside."
"...Mm, hm," she said innocently.
A full smile crossed my face. "I think I may have found someone else to add to that list now."
Ivy's hands paused in my hair...then slowly continued.
I can see it now.
All too clearly.
It was a bright spring day, and my class was on the playground.
The teams were gathered, and the race was begun.
Toward the finish line, I suddenly tripped, and I suddenly fell.
Before I knew it, the race was over, and the kids came running toward me and my partner.
Once again, we both reached out our hands, and once again, only one of us was helped up. Afterwards, my partner walked away with the others, while I was left lying there — still, silent...and alone.
Then the vision ended — but a lot less calmly this time.
I awakened quickly, realizing I'd fallen from the couch to the floor. Just above my moan, I heard someone approaching. Looking upward, I saw a hand reaching down toward me.
Ivy's hand.
"You okay?"
I watched her for a moment, staring into her eyes. Then, I slowly reached out. "Yeah," I said softly, taking her hand in my own. "I think I'm just fine." I smiled as she gently helped me up.
