Private 8 - Revelation Read Online Free PDF Page A

heard--every creak, every whistle of wind, every footfall--brought my heart to a screeching halt and my eyes to the door. And between these excruciating moments, there were too many thoughts swirling in my mind. Too many humiliating memories popping up to replay themselves and make my heart and stomach clench. Too much to regret. Too much to wish away.

    I wished I had never started e-mailing with Dash at the beginning of the school year.

    I wished I hadn't had all those drinks at the Legacy.

    I wished I had never gone up on that roof. 32

    I wished Josh had never found us.

    I wished I had told Noelle the truth from the beginning.

    I wished I had seen Ivy taking that stupid video so that I could have bitch-slapped her right then and there and nipped this whole thing in the bud.

    I pulled my pillow over my face and groaned into it. At that moment Ivy's laugh, clear as day, filled my room. I tossed the pillow aside. It wasn't just that the walls in Pemberly were paper thin--which they were--but there was a vent right beneath my bed, through which I could hear almost everything Ivy and her roommate, Jillian Crane, said to each other. At least, that is, when they were being loud and I was listening. I glanced at the clock on my desk. It was after midnight. What the hell was Ivy laughing about over there?

    Her laugh was followed by a giggle and some quietly murmured words. My hands curled into fists. I recognized that tone. She was talking to a guy. Flirting. And not with just any guy--with my guy. Josh was, right now, whispering sweet nothings to cold, evil Ivy.

    Suddenly filled with ire, I flung my covers aside and sat up straight. It was still frigid in the room, so I had worn sweatpants, a turtleneck, and a sweatshirt to bed, along with some thick socks, which now protected my feet from the icy floor as I paced in a teeny, tiny circle. I had to think. I had to figure this out once and for all. Several lives might depend on it, including my own.

    Okay. Deep breath. Think. What do I actually know?

    First, according to the police, Cheyenne was definitely murdered. So what did this mean exactly? It meant the suicide note had 33

    been faked. It meant that both suicide notes had been faked. I stopped in my tracks, suddenly seeing it all with a cold clarity. The night she died, Cheyenne hadn't sent me that haunting "Ignore the note. You did this" e-mail. She hadn't blamed me for her death. Because she hadn't intended to die at all. Whoever had sent me that e-mail was the murderer. For some reason, the murderer had wanted me to feel responsible for Cheyenne's death.

    Instantly, this bizarre feeling of relief overcame me. For months I had been walking around feeling guilty, thinking that Cheyenne's last thoughts before she killed herself had been of me. Thinking that she had gone to her grave cursing me. But it wasn't true. None of it was true. Cheyenne hadn't blamed me. The very thought was like a huge boulder being lifted off my shoulders.

    But of course the relief was short-lived, replaced instantly by a new and intense fear. Did this mean that my stalker was also the murderer? It made sense. The murderer had sent the e-mail, then backed it up by leaving all of these things around to remind me of Cheyenne. To torture me. To make me feel even more guilty. The pills and the place card weren't the only thing the murderer had left for me. There had been the Billings black balls, Cheyenne's pink sweater, her perfume, and all those other awful things.

    My stalker was definitely the killer. Had to be. It couldn't all just be some terrifying coincidence.

    I dropped back down on my bed again and clutched my comforter to my chest. The killer had been in my room at Billings several times. Had been in my closet, my drawers, my overnight bag. And he or she

    34

    had been in this room too. This very day. Leaving the most horrifying message yet. Once again I heard Ivy laugh, and my blood ran cold. It had to be her. She'd had