Free Scandal by Kate Brian Page A

the hint that we weren’t budging any time soon and went around us. One of them blatantly checked out Ivy as he went by and she smiled back at him.
    Geez. You have a boyfriend, remember? I glanced at Josh again. This time his gaze was trained on the court, where the girls were finishing up their pregame warm-up and jogging for the benches. I took a breath and told myself to focus.
    “That’s insane.” I looked into Ivy’s eyes and realized she wasn’t kidding. “Ivy, I need your help. How am I going to set up these tests and administer them and judge the results all on my own? That’s impossible.”
    “Yeah, but it’s the rules,” Ivy said under her breath. “You’re the Elizabeth Williams here, Reed. Once you have a membership, you’ll have all the help you need, but for this one, you’re going to have to make the decisions.”
    “If you’re getting tested, then I should be too.” I said, starting up the steps.
    She grabbed my arm and pulled me back down, tugging me into the corner by the fire extinguisher. Over the loudspeakers, the national anthem started to play.
    “Whoever left you that book chose you,” she said. “You’re the one person who gets a pass.”
    “Okay, fine,” I said. “You can do the tasks. But if you fail any of them, I will personally kick your butt.”
    She smirked. “I would expect nothing less.”
    The players gathered at the center of the court for the tip-off. Cheers of “Go Easton!” and “Let’s go Barton!” erupted from the stands as sneakers squeaked on the freshly waxed floors.
    “I’m going to go get a soda,” Ivy told me. “Save me a seat.”
    “Okay.” I sighed, suddenly heavy with the full weight of the Billings Literary Society on my shoulders. “I’ll be up there with Constance and those guys.”
    “Got it,” Ivy said with a nod.
    She paused to let a crowd of Barton fans through, their faces painted red and white. As the buzzer commenced the game, I started up the bleachers, carefully avoiding fingers and toes and book bags. Halfway up, I felt someone watching me and glanced toward the top bleacher. Josh. He quickly looked away, and a lump formed in my throat. I wished I could just go up there and join him. Hang out with him, talk to him, just be near him. But I couldn’t. Feeling suddenly conspicuous, I slid into the aisle where my friends were sitting. Constance made room for me on the bench next to her, slipping her backpack onto the floor and her coat under her butt. I sat down and smiled, concentrating on not looking back at Josh again.
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem,” she said, tugging her thick, red ponytail over her opposite shoulder. “Where’d Ivy go?”
    “To get something to drink,” I replied, keeping one eye on the game.
    “Oh. That’s good.”
    Constance continued to fiddle with her hair. Then she uncrossed and recrossed her legs half a dozen times and sighed.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked finally.
    “Nothing! It’s just …” She turned toward me, her back toward the other girls, and lowered her voice. “You planned this whole thing with her, didn’t you? The BLS?” she said, her whisper dropping to barely audible. “Her and Noelle.”
    My heart skipped a tentative beat.
    “Noelle had nothing to do with it.”
    A Barton player with a frizzy blond ponytail scored a sweet three; half the crowd went nuts.
    “But they both knew about it before the rest of us,” Constance whispered as the cheers died down. “We could all tell.”
    “I needed someone to help me figure it all out,” I admitted, keeping my eye on the game. Tiffany stole the ball and raced down the court, executing a perfect layup. I clapped my hands as the Easton side cheered. “Noelle said no so I asked Ivy.”
    Constance swallowed, her lips pulled back almost as if she were trying not to throw up. “Ivy Slade.”
    My gut tightened. Suddenly I knew exactly where this was going.
    “Constance, I—”
    “She’s not even a Billings Girl,”