Scandal by Kate Brian Read Free Book Online Page A

otherwise, nothing. Apparently, on the second night back after break, people weren’t all that motivated yet.
    Bam!
    I jumped back in my chair and nearly tumbled to the floor. Ivy slipped into the chair at the study carrel next to mine and pointed to the book, which she’d just dropped on the desk.
    My hands on my chest, I gasped for breath. “God, Ivy! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
    The gray-haired librarian padded over to the end of our aisle to give us a stern look. I shot her an apologetic grimace as Ivy dropped her bag on the floor, then opened the book. “I know where the chapel is,” she said.
    The librarian shuffled away again and Ivy turned to the page that outlined the procedures for society meetings. There was a gorgeous sketch of a clapboard chapel, surrounded by trees. She pointed at it and leaned in closer to my side.
    “If we’re going to do this right, we’re going to do it there,” she said. “The old Billings School chapel. It was supposed to be demolished a couple of years ago, but then some historical organization came in and stopped it. There was a big story about it in the paper my sophomore year—how they were going to renovate it—but I don’t think they ever did.”
    She angled my computer toward her, saved my history paper, and opened my browser.
    “What’re you doing?” I asked.
    “Showing it to you,” she said, moving her finger over the touch pad.
    She brought up the Easton Academy website, all blue and gold and austere, with a photo of our own chapel anchoring the front page. Under the history section, she clicked the tab titled The Billings School for Girls. I scooted forward, scanning the contents.
    “Here.” Ivy clicked on a link. “Campus map.”
    A line drawing of the old Billings campus popped up. There had only been a few buildings: living quarters for students and teachers; the McKinley Building, which housed classrooms, offices, and a small library; the Prescott Building, which was basically the gymnasium and dining room; and the chapel.
    “This is that apartment building down the hill from the Easton entry gate,” Ivy said, pointing at McKinley, the largest of the structures.
    “Yeah. And isn’t the Prescott Building the Easton YMCA now?” I said.
    “Yep. And that is the old chapel …” Ivy said, pointing. “It’s on our side of Hamilton Parkway, just up the hill from campus.”
    “By the clearing,” I said with a shiver of recognition. The clearing was the spot where the Billings/Ketlar parties used to be held. Where Thomas and I had fought the night before he disappeared.
    “Yeah, it’s a short walk back from there,” Ivy said. “We used to hang out there every once in a while until they had it condemned. After that, only the ‘real’ rebels used it,” she said sarcastically. I smirked. There weren’t any real rebels at Easton, just poseurs who thought they were rebels. She slapped my laptop closed and grabbed her bag. “Let’s go check it out.”
    “What? Now? It’s pitch-black out and it’s snowing,” I protested, even as I rose from my chair.
    “I swiped flashlights from the supply closet and you have snow boots on. Come on!”
    Ivy’s excitement was infectious, and I grabbed my stuff and shoved it all into my bag. Pulling my hat down over my hair, I placed the book carefully inside my bag next to my computer and followed her out.
    The snow fluttered down from the sky lazily, like millions of tiny, weightless feathers, tickling our noses as we hurried across campus. Our feet left long tracks in the snow behind us as we ignored the shoveled pathways. My heart hollowed out when we passed the huge patch of dirt where Billings used to be, the front walkway now leading to nowhere. I averted my eyes and quickened my pace. I was going to fix this. Right here, right now, I was taking my first steps toward bringing Billings back.
    When we reached the very edge of campus, Ivy and I paused and looked over our shoulders. There were