THE FROGNAL ACADEMY LIBRARY had fourteen computer desks, with access to the Internet included, and all fourteen of them were empty. Presumably because everyone but me had a tablet or a smartphone and could update their Facebook status at five-minute intervals. But there wasn’t much going on around here at midday in any event; there wasn’t anyone around except for one of the smaller boys sitting in a corner reading. I chose a screen right at the back, where I couldn’t be seen from the door, just in case it came into Persephone’s head to look for me here. She’d obviously decided to be best friends with me from now on. It had nothing to do with a sudden liking for my company, but I guess my connection with the Spencers made up for the absence of diamond mines or diplomatic parents in the family. It would have been much nicer if she’d gone on ignoring me, and above all much quieter. She even followed me to the toilets, where she kept on nattering. I’d slipped out of the cafeteria and come here on the pretext of looking for my sister—I thought I’d rather do without lunch than spend another minute with Persephone.
And now I had three-quarters of an hour for valuable research. First I wanted to check whether Persephone really had found her information about the merging of our family with the Spencers in a blog. And sure enough, searching for the terms “Grayson Spencer,” “Liv Silver,” and “Frognal Academy” led me straight to a page that called itself the Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, written by someone who gave her name as Secrecy. The latest entry was time stamped eight thirty that morning. I held my breath for a moment as I recognized the lead item: a photograph of me just as I was opening my locker.
Oh, shit.
I quickly read the text under it twice running, to make sure that my eyes hadn’t deceived me. Then I took a deep breath. Moonlight blond, indeed! This girl Secrecy (or was Secrecy a boy?) was very well informed—except that the bit about Papa was wrong: he was neither famous nor a nuclear physicist, and as an engineer he worked mainly on the development of hybrid cars. But the rest of it was right—and how horrifying was that? She or he had been lying in wait for me near the lockers to take that photo. I’m right here among you, and I know all your secrets.
I scrolled down to earlier entries and began reading. The style and content reminded me a little of the trashy magazines I loved to look at in the dentist’s waiting room, except that the blog wasn’t devoted to celebrities, actors, and the European aristocracy but was all about the students and teachers of Frognal Academy and their families. Secrecy apparently knew everything. She revealed clandestine relationships and knew who was splitting up from whom and why. Her articles were pitiless and malicious. And admittedly, also very entertaining.
It was just about miraculous that no one seemed to have found out who she was yet—half the people she had exposed in her blog must entertain murderous feelings about her, that was for sure. And the other half would want to pluck out all her hairs one by one, at the very least. But she also had any number of fans, judging by the comments.
“Don’t even try to find out who I am, because so far no one has managed it”—that read to me like a personal challenge. I just couldn’t resist puzzles and mysteries. In any case, someone who knew Florence or Grayson well must be hiding behind the name of Secrecy, because only they knew about Mom and Ernest’s plans. And only since yesterday evening at that. Or had Secrecy simply happened to eavesdrop on a conversation by chance? Did she have undercover informers? Did she have up-to-date bugging methods? Was she hacking into private e-mail accounts?
Someone put a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. I’d been so deep in thought that I hadn’t paid any attention to the movements I’d seen out of the corner of my eye.
To my relief, however, it wasn’t Persephone who had tracked me down, but Grayson. Thanks to Secrecy, I now knew that Grayson was an outstandingly good basketball player, that he was deputy editor of the students’ magazine reflexx, and that he had broken the heart of a girl called Maisie Brown last year because he’d taken Florence’s best friend, Emily Clark, to the Autumn Ball instead of her. (Ah, that would almost certainly be Emily with the pimply brother—I was beginning to get an idea of the situation.)
“Hi,” whispered Grayson.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
Then I noticed that he wasn’t on his own. A little way off, Jasper was perched on the edge of a table, and Henry was leaning against some shelves beside him, with his arms crossed.
For a second I felt I’d gone back into my dream, and I saw myself dropping out of the cedar tree right in front of their feet again. I was a barn owl a moment ago, honest.
Luckily my arm was lying over my notebook, so Grayson couldn’t read what I had been writing, but he’d had a good chance to see what was on the screen.
“Don’t you like your paparazzi photo?” he asked, still in a whisper. “You got off lightly—she snapped me with an icicle on my nose.”
I giggled. I must definitely look for that photo later. Jasper and Henry were openly watching us, but at least they couldn’t hear what we were saying so long as we stuck to whispering. I closed my notebook and leaned my elbows on it.
“How do you know Secrecy is a she?” I asked.
Grayson shrugged his shoulders. “Well, a boy wouldn’t be able to write so knowledgeably about the lace and frills on ball dresses.”
“Unless he does it on purpose to be taken for a girl.”
“Hmm. I never thought of that.” He scratched his nose, and I noticed that the words had disappeared from his wrist. They really had been felt pen. “What are you doing here?”
“Hiding from Persephone Porter-Peregrin, my new best friend. How about you?”
“We, er … incidentally, these are my best friends. I think you’ve met Jasper and Henry.” He sighed. “And this is Arthur.”
Sure enough, Arthur had appeared behind Henry and Jasper. “You can talk out loud, Grayson,” he said. “Our dear Miss Cooper has gone for lunch and is leaving the library in good hands.” Smiling, he came toward us. Henry and Jasper left their observation posts and strolled closer too.
“Hi. You must be Grayson’s new little sister. Liv, is that right?”
I nodded. My God, Secrecy was right, he really was the best-looking boy in the Western Hemisphere. Those angelic golden curls! They’d have made any other boy look like a girl, but they suited him perfectly. In daylight he didn’t look at all uncanny, more the opposite. My short-term memory made the information I’d just picked up from the Tittle-Tattle blog into a kind of Wanted poster up beside his head before my mind’s eyes.
ARTHUR HAMILTON, AGE 18. Captain of the basketball team. In a (long-distance) relationship with Anabel Scott. Favorite subjects: sports and math. Favorite color: blue. Cautioned by the police for violent behavior last winter. Father: managing director of a large advertising agency. Family has their own private cinema at home.
“So how do you like it at Frognal?”
“Seems to be very … interesting here,” I said.
“She’s just discovered the Tittle-Tattle blog,” said Grayson.
Arthur laughed. “Yes, interesting is the right word.” He exchanged a brief glance with Henry, who was leaning against some bookshelves with his arms folded again. It seemed to be his favorite position. I’d gleaned a large amount of information about him, too, by now:
HENRY HARPER, AGE 17. Forward with the Frognal Flames. Son of a prominent London businessman on his third marriage. Will have to share his inheritance with a whole crowd of siblings and half siblings—that’s if there’s any of it left, because last winter his father fell in love again, with a Bulgarian lingerie model / call girl who he hopes will be wife number four. Candidate for a scholarship to St. Andrew’s. At present unattached. Attractive gray eyes, and always has a kind of funny look.
I quickly looked away and pretended I had to search for something in my files. When Henry looked at me, I always felt as if he could read my thoughts.
“Do you like basketball, Liv?” asked Arthur. “We’re having a little party at my house on Saturday evening to celebrate the start of the season—it’d be good if Grayson brought you with him. Then you could meet a few people. And we have a little pool, so bring a bikini if you’d like to swim.”
I blinked suspiciously. Was he serious? I mean, he’d only that moment met me.
“How about it—will you come?”
On the other hand, why wouldn’t people simply be nice? What’s more, I’d be fascinated to see his family’s private cinema. “If Grayson will take me, then I’d like to,” I said.
“Of course we’ll have to ask your mother first,” said Grayson, joining the conversation. Turning to his friend, he went on, “She’s rather strict about Liv not staying out late.”
What on earth did he mean? Mom wasn’t at all strict—quite the opposite. She was always telling me the things she’d done when she was my age. Even in Pretoria, which wasn’t the safest place in the world, I’d been allowed to stay out as long as I liked on the weekend. Luckily for her, I’d never wanted to stay out very long.
“Er, yes,” I said, with an inquiring look at Grayson. Why did he make a claim like that? “My mom is extremely … strict.”
“Well, I think that’s a good thing,” said Jasper. “For girls.”
Before anyone could find out exactly what he meant by that, the bell rang for the beginning of the next class.
“It’s only a harmless little party,” said Arthur as I put my things together and got to my feet. “I’m sure your mother won’t object.”
No, far from it. She’d be over the moon to think I was making friends so quickly. And with the most popular clique in the whole school. That was really something else—and so much better than getting my head dunked in the toilet.
“And you’d have your new, responsible big brother looking after you on the way,” said Henry.
“I can look after myself, thanks,” I said.
“Yes, right!” Jasper gave a chuckle of amusement. “After all, you can do kung fu.”
I’d already turned to move away, but now I froze in midmovement. What had he just said?
Jasper chuckled even louder. “Why are you looking so surprised? You said so yourself in the cemetery, don’t you remember? Or is that another of those night-watchman things?”
The others were certainly looking at him in surprise, except for Henry, who was looking at me. Much more attentively than I liked.
I tried to keep a neutral expression on my face, but I was afraid I didn’t do very well. I had goose bumps all over. This wasn’t possible.… It couldn’t be possible.
“In what cemetery?” I asked, far too late in the day.
“Oh, never mind me,” said Jasper cheerfully. “I’m talking nonsense.”
“So you are,” said Grayson with a wry grin, and Arthur rolled his eyes and laughed. Only Henry didn’t move a muscle.
Okay. Don’t panic. I can think all this over later. Get away from here first.
“I must be going.” I ignored Henry’s penetrating gaze, jammed my things under my arm, and made for the door. “Double period of Spanish.”
“Que te diviertas,” said Arthur behind me.
“See you later,” Grayson murmured, and the last thing I heard before I closed the library door behind me, struggling hysterically for air, was Henry’s voice, saying, “Jas, you really must stop helping yourself to your mother’s supply of pills.”