That thought makes me feel even worse, and I despise myself for it.
“Look, Billie. There’s no one else who can do this. No detective would be able to penetrate the campus in time or get an insider’s view of the culture here. You’re just a kid? Lucky for you, that’s exactly what we need here. No one’s going to talk to a professional detective, especially if”—she lowers her voice here, even though the thick, oak-paneled walls seem to deaden sound from the outside—“a Wickham student is responsible. Besides, we are on an extremely limited timeframe. And we must figure out who did this to her before it’s too late. You’re our only hope.”
“But I can’t—”
“You must.” Whitney’s voice is firm. Thunderous, even. When I meet her gaze once more, I see the fury in her eyes. And the despair. It’s a swirling mix of emotions that breaks my heart.
She jumps to her feet, and I do the same. “Can’t you see? We need you, Billie. Isla needs you. Everyone is whispering about her, how she did this to Emily, and it’s not true. She would never harm a soul. I may not be her birth mother, butI’ve been a mother to her in every other way, and I know in my heart that Isla would never push her best friend off a cliff and then jump right after her. It makes no sense. Not with the girl I know and love and adore.”
Whitney stops in front of me and reaches out, settling her hands on my shoulders. “Help me, Billie. Help your sister. We need you. Please don’t leave.”
The crack in her voice undoes me, and I step toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist. There’s not a single moment of hesitation before she returns the embrace. We cling to each other for a few seconds, like letting go would send us both falling into an abyss we could never climb out of. My tears make a wet patch on her sweater, but I don’t think she cares. The realization smacks me in the chest, making it hard for me to breathe.
Whitney’s love for my sister is all I’ve ever wanted from my own mother. And it’s the one thing Mom can’t seem to give me. Unconditional love and total belief in her own child.
Eventually I pull away and wipe underneath both of my eyes with the back of my hand, sniffing loudly. Whitney doesn’t say anything, though I hear her soft sniff as well. We’re both emotional wrecks. But that’s what makes my decision easier.
“Okay.” I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’ll do it. I’ll stay for two weeks.”
Her relief is obvious when she jerks me back into a quick embrace before letting me go again. “Thank you, Billie. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I think I do.” I offer her a pitiful smile but let it fade. I’m not just doing this for Isla. I’m doing it for Whitney as well. She loves my sister. Maybe even more than I do. The realizationfills me with equal parts shame and hope. I should be the one who loves Isla more than anyone in the world, but the very fact that I’m here and no one knows who I am—no one knows that Isla has a sister—means my love wasn’t strong enough. A sister who loved Isla as strongly as Whitney clearly does wouldn’t be a secret. Every unanswered text and missed call in the past year stabs into me like shards of glass.
Isla deserved better than what I’ve given her the past year. But I think she had everything either of us could have wanted in Whitney.
“Where is your coat? You’re not even wearing a jumper, and it’s quite cold out there.” Whitney marches over to a large armoire on the other side of the room and swings the doors open. Inside are a bunch of uniform jackets, and she pulls out a cardigan that looks like the one hanging in the closet back at my dorm. “Here. Put this on.”
I do as she says and button it up, hating how long it is, but there’s not much I can do about that. Whitney brushes off my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, like she’s preparing me to walk into a board room instead of a dining hall.
I reach for my backpack but then remember the yearbook and dossier are inside. I think about stashing them here, not only because they’d be beyond the reach of whatever rat went through my stuff, but because I want Whitney to know that I trust her. But safeguarding things here means I won’t be able to access them easily—and something tells me I’m going to want to spend more time with Isla’s notes in her yearbook.
In the end, I offer Whitney a quick wave and get the hell out of there, desperate to escape before it gets awkward.Moreawkward. I leave the admin building, Mrs. Brown’s irritatedgaze burning a hole in my back. I only take a deep, cleansing breath once I’m outside on the front steps. The chilly wind cools my heated cheeks, and a hint of determination fills me, reminding me why I’m doing this.
This is what I came for, right? A different life and a different me. Shedding my old skin and becoming someone new. I’m no longer Billie Vale. I’m Belinda Winters now.
And I need to start acting like it.
…
Ienter the stiflingly hot dining hall, the scent of food making my stomach growl. I’ve only had an airplane pastry and a soggy sandwich in the last day, and I’m starving. I head for the hot breakfast line, my skin prickling with awareness when it feels like a thousand pairs of eyes are watching my every move. Ignoring them, I toss my hair over my shoulder before I grab an egg sandwich and a coffee. Trying my best to act like I don’t have a care in the world, despite my being the new girl.
I spot Priya grabbing a banana from a table covered in plates of fruit. I head toward her, putting on an easygoing smile the moment our gazes lock.
“Thanks for the wakeup today.” From the flicker of irritation in Priya’s brown eyes, I can tell my easy-breezy tone is grating on her last nerve.Mission accomplished.“Appreciate it.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Her voice is flat, and her fingers grip the banana tight enough that the fruit is bound to bruise. I wonder idly if she might throw it at me,but she doesn’t. “Last time I saw you, you were soundly asleep. I’m not responsible for you.”
“It’s not Priya’s fault you slept in.” The snide comment comes from a voluptuous, redheaded bombshell who stops right beside Priya, lifting her chin in defiance. I recognize her from the photo in Isla’s yearbook. Abigail Roth. “Need to get with the schedule, newbie.”
Priya and Abigail laugh and turn away from me without another word. I follow as they head for an already crowded table, not about to let these two ice me out. I fall into the open chair on Priya’s left, letting my tray land on the table with a clatter. Everybody lifts their head at my arrival, curious expressions on their faces.
“Everyone, this is Belinda Winters. American money and new resident bad girl.” Priya laughs, and I know for sure she’s making fun of me. “Belinda, this is … everyone.”
“Everyone who matters, you mean.” The droll baritone voice comes from my left, where a tall, thin white boy with dark-auburn hair sits beside me, a slight curl to his upper lip. “Freddie Pembroke.”
“Hi.” I offer him a dazzling smile, and he grins in return, his golden eyes dancing.
“Well, aren’t you a gorgeous little thing. Tell us where you’re from, Belinda.” He props his elbow on the edge of the table, resting his chin on top of his curled fist.
