Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

head toward the door.
    “That’s okay,” I said, lifting the books. “I think I’m just going to make some notes on these and go to sleep.”
    “Okay. Well, if you need coffee or anything, my mom got me one of those pod things for Christmas, so I’m all over it.”
    “Thanks,” I replied, my heart giving a tug. Ivy was great, but it was kind of tough being friends with the person who was smooching my boyfriend all over campus.
    Ahem, ex -boyfriend.
    “’Night,” she said.
    “’Night.”
    I slipped into my room, closed the door, and sighed. Then something caught my eye in the dim light streaming through the slim window from the quad. I froze and my vision went fuzzy with fear. I blinked and shook my head, but it was still there. Lying in the center of my bed was a package, about the size and shape of a hardcover novel, wrapped in plain brown paper. Instantly, memories of blush beads and black balls and perfume bottles and Cheyenne Martin’s clothing crowded my brain. Dozens of sadistic gifts and e-mails left for me to find. Left for me to fear.
    Who had put this in my room? And why? Was Sabine back? Could she possibly, somehow, be back? But no. She was in jail somewhere. Awaiting trial. Locked up all safe and sound.
    I flipped on the lights. Dropped the books on my shabby wood desk. Stood over the package.
    Don’t open it. Just throw it out. This is the last thing you need.
    The edge of a cream-colored envelope stuck out from beneath the package. There was some kind of swirling design stamped on it in thick brown ink. I carefully tugged the note card out as if the package might explode if I made the wrong move. The design was a three-pointed crest, filled with swirling roses. At the top of the middle point were a quill and a hammer, crossed like swords. In the very center of the crest were three letters entwined together in an elaborate script.
    B. L. S.
    Okay. Now I was intrigued. Against my better judgment, I opened the envelope. The card inside read simply, For Reed Brennan, Given with trust and pride. Your sisters in BLS.
    Sisters in what now? I glanced at the package. Trust and pride. That didn’t seem scary at all. I sat down on the bed and cautiously picked up the hefty package. Popping the first piece of tape didn’t result in an explosion of shrapnel, so I tore the rest of it open. Inside was an old, worn, leather-bound book with the BLS crest etched into the cover. Carefully, I opened the book. Its spine creaked with age. The pages were heavy yellow parchment, brown and ragged at the edges. The words on the first page were handwritten in gorgeous black script.
    The Billings Literary Society. Founded December 3, A.D. 1915.
    For a long moment I couldn’t move. Then I looked around at the four blank, off-white walls of my room as if someone was going to be sitting there, waiting to pounce. Satisfied that I was alone, I slowly turned the page, touching only the very corner, not wanting to mar what was obviously a very old and precious book. On the second page, handwritten again, was a creed.
    We, the undersigned, do hereby pledge our hearts and minds to the purposes of the Billings Literary Society. We promise to be loyal, steadfast, and true to all who join our circle. We vow never to reveal the secrets of our society, but to uphold its values and standards in the face of tyranny. Blood to blood, ashes to ashes, sister to sister, we make this sacred vow.
    Under the creed, eleven names were signed in various handwriting styles, some loopy and large, some tiny and tight—all perfectly legible. My eyes scanned the names. Jane Barton, Marilyn DeMeers, Lavender Lewis-Tarrington, Catherine White, Elizabeth Williams, Theresa Billings.
    Theresa Billings? As in Billings Billings?
    I checked the date at the bottom of the list. It had been signed on December 3, 1915.
    A door slammed in the hallway and my heart all but stopped. I took a breath, my eyes snagging on the plastic basket full of shower supplies on top