I allowed myself a mysterious smile. “Well, it’s not as if I’d learned nothing from you. And like I said, your father only needed to have a few basic principles explained to him. It was easy.”
Easy, ha-ha! It had taken me days just to find his father’s dream door. Unfortunately it wasn’t, as I’d assumed, anywhere close to B’s door (why not, I wondered?) but in a drafty corridor off to one side of it. And I’d really found it only because it had his initials carved in the wood: R.H. for Ronald Harper.
And then the real challenge began: Harper wasn’t the type of man to listen to other people telling him how to run his business projects, and he’d had no intention of changing his mind about investing his children’s trust in a high-risk hedge fund run by dubious private bankers. I’d had to pull out all the stops, four nights running. Only when I haunted him as the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come did he crack. I’d rather have tried a version of the late Henry Harper Senior, but that wasn’t going to work because I knew nothing about the appearance and character of Henry’s grandfather. Instead I had to use the ghost out of A Christmas Carol, and I was prepared for it because I’d taken that part in a Christmas play three years ago in Berkeley. Apart from a small slipup—literally, because I nearly fell over the hem of my long, scary, hooded gray cloak—I thought I played it very well. And thanks to Charles Dickens, there’s nothing like showing a man his own gravestone to convince him that his life is on the wrong track.
I felt really proud now that my trouble had been worthwhile. Don’t let anyone say dreams can never alter reality.
Henry slipped the snuffbox into the pocket of his jeans and gave me that very special Henry smile that was kept only for me—and made me go weak at the knees. “I swear I’ll get you to tell me the whole story sometime,” he said, standing up and putting out his hand to me. “But for now it will be enough if you’ll dance with me.”
I laid my hand in his and smiled. The band played “Dream On” by Aerosmith. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
TITTLE-TATTLE BLOG
The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, with all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals from our school.
ABOUT ME:
My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know all your secrets.
18 February
Eleven minutes! Jasper Grant’s relationship status on Facebook had been “single” for exactly eleven minutes when Persephone dumped Gabriel. She’s a fast worker.
A little too fast, unfortunately, as it turned out. Because after twelve minutes Jasper’s profile said “In a relationship” again.
Good-bye, Lily, hi there, Louise. An excellent choice, judging by the bikini-clad photos in Louise’s profile. And if the villa, the pool, and the palm trees visible beyond the bikini belong to Louise’s parents, then Jasper is to be congratulated. He’s using his time abroad to make friends forever with a holiday home on the C?te d’Azur—so much more important than a good grade in French, don’t you think?
So now Persephone will have to spend the time until Easter knocking her head against the wall. And, Gabriel, you stand firm—you really do deserve something better.
However, now for our breaking news: I’ve only just heard that Anabel Scott came out of the psychiatric hospital on Friday. Obviously acute polymorphic psychotic disorder can be cured, and the schizophrenia must have been a wrong diagnosis. One way or another, Anabel is back! She’s been discharged, and she’ll probably spend a little while convalescing at home before returning to her studies. At the moment we can only speculate on whether she and Arthur will pick up their relationship again—they were certainly the best-looking couple that Frognal ever had. What am I saying? The best-looking couple the world had ever seen, and I wouldn’t grudge it to them. But after so long, I guess getting back together isn’t easy.
We’ll have to wait and see.
See you soon!
Love from Secrecy
PS—In case you’re waiting to hear the latest scandals from Florence and Grayson Spencer’s birthday party: Sorry to disappoint you. The party was a scandal-free zone. Delicious food, super band, fantastic atmosphere—like Florence, the party was just perfect.
ON THAT SAME NIGHT …
ANABEL WAS WEARING a short black dress and looked more beautiful than ever as she walked toward us in the corridor. The faint light played around her slender body, and all we needed was the right background music to put the finishing touch to her appearance in the part of a fallen angel.
“How was the party?” She put her head on one side and smiled at us. “So stupid that I got left off the invitation list.”
What an idiot I was. What a silly idiot! The evening so far had been perfect, and I’d just wanted it to go on a little longer. So after a moment’s hesitation, I’d gone out through my green door, officially to look in on Mia and make sure she was all right. Henry, Grayson, and I had made it our business to do that these last few weeks. But who did I think I was kidding?