By the time the last guest leaves, it’s already way past midnight and I’m exhausted. As beautiful as this dress is, I can’t wait to get out of it and put on something more comfortable.
Even though it’s completely out of her way, Sequoia insists on driving me home.
“That was amazing,” she says, as she turns out of the country club parking lot. “Simply amazing.”
“Yeah,” I say dazedly, staring out the window at the passing streetlamps. This whole day and night has felt like a dream.
A dream I never want to wake up from.
Except I can’t stop thinking about the things Dylan said to me. They’re buzzing around me like an annoying fly I can’t swat away.
As much as I don’t want to believe anything he said, Dylan was right about one thing. Sequoia and I do act like Lucinda never even existed. It’s strange. Sequoia has barely even mentioned her in the past two days, and every time someone brings her up she quickly shuts it down.
It’s not right. If Lucinda was our best friend and something bad happened to her, we should be talking about it.
Sequoia lets out a contented sigh. “Aren’t you glad that’s over with? All that buildup. All that worrying. It’s nice to just sit back and bask in your success, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I agree absently. “It’s a good feeling.”
I take a deep breath and grab the edge of the seat for support. “It’s a shame Lucinda had to miss it.”
The energy in the car snaps like a twig. I can almost hear it breaking. I peer at Sequoia out of the corner of my eye and notice her jaw has tightened and her grip around the steering wheel has turned deadly.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmurs.
I swallow timidly. “I think maybe we should.”
“Why would you do that?!” Sequoia snarls, taking me by surprise. She’s no longer quiet. No longer basking in the glow of the evening. Now she’s turned into something else. Something fierce. “Why would you ruin the night like that?”
“I’m sorry,” I offer. “But I just—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. There’s nothing more to say. Lucinda made her choice. And it was entirely hers to make. We had nothing to do with it. She knew what she was getting into. She knew what the Windsor Academy honor code says about cheating, she knew it meant automatic expulsion, but she bought the stolen exam anyway. There’s no point in feeling sorry for her. She brought this on herself.”
My brain is swimming in Sequoia’s words, trying to make sense of them and string them together with everything else I’ve learned over the past two days.
Lucinda got expelled for cheating?
She bought a stolen exam?
I feel my chest squeeze at the notion. I mean, I always knew Windsor was a tough school and the students were under a lot of pressure to succeed (I’ve only been here for a day and I can already feel it!), but I never would have imagined anyone would resort to cheating.
I try to keep my reaction inside so it doesn’t show all over my face, but it’s like trying to keep a tornado in a bottle. There are just so many questions I’m dying to ask her. My journalist brain is drowning in them, desperate to get to the bottom of the story.
Who sold her the exam? How did they get it? Has this happened before? Is Lucinda the first one to get expelled?
But I can tell from the look on Sequoia’s face as she pulls up to the curb in front of my house that she’s done talking. Even if I could find a way to phrase the question so it didn’t make me sound like a lunatic, I doubt she would even answer.
Which means I’m going to have to find the answers another way.
“I’ll pick you up at six thirty tomorrow,” Sequoia says tersely, refusing to look at me.
“Okay.” I grab my bag with my school clothes in it and reach for the door handle just as a thought comes to me. “Hey. When is it my turn to drive?” I assume we must take turns. It wouldn’t be fair for her to drive every day.
But she gives me the strangest look, like she has no idea what I’m talking about, and says, “Don’t be late. I need to study for the French exam in the morning.”
I decide to let it go. If Sequoia wants to drive, she can drive.
“I won’t,” I assure her, and step out of the car.
The house is quiet when I enter. I check the clock on my phone to find it’s almost one in the morning. Everyone is already asleep. I’m dying to wake up Frankie and ask him what he knows about Lucinda, or wake up my dad to tell him about my amazing night, but it’s late. And I’m so tired.
I peel off Sequoia’s gown and hang it neatly in my closet. Then I collapse onto my bed without even bothering to wash my face. I climb under the covers, feeling the weight of this long day settle in around me like an unwelcome bedfellow. I switch off my bedside light, fully expecting to be asleep by the time my head hits the pillow.
But sleep never comes.