City Secrets

  CITY SECRETS

  Other books in the

  CANTERWOOD CREST SERIES:

  TAKE THE REINS

  CHASING BLUE

  BEHIND THE BIT

  TRIPLE FAULT

  BEST ENEMIES

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  RIVAL REVENGE

  HOME SWEET DRAMA

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN M!X

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

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  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Aladdin M!X edition July 2010

  Text copyright © 2010 by Jessica Burkhart

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

  in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo

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  Designed by Jessica Handelman

  The text of this book was set in Venetian 301 BT.

  Manufactured in the United States of America / 0510 OFF

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  Library of Congress Control Number 2010902790

  ISBN 978-1-4424-0380-2

  ISBN 978-1-4424-0381-9 (eBook)

  To the dedicated, smart, funny, and brilliant

  reader girlies on Team Canterwood

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Huge thank-yous to everyone for helping create this book and supporting it, including Fiona Simpson, Bethany Buck, Mara Anastas, Jessica Handelman, Karin Paprocki, Russell Gordon, Liesa Abrams, Brenna Franzitta, Katherine Devendorf, Dayna Evans, Alyson Heller, Lucille Rettino, Bess Braswell, Venessa Williams, Nicole Russo, and Monica Stevenson.

  Thanks so much to the gorgeous, talented models for making this cover so beautiful!

  Kate Angelella, you waved your sparkly purple editor wand over my first draft and transformed it into a book. I know, I know, it’s hard for you to take a compliment, but you are truly a superstar editor and writer who is only going to continue to take over the publishing biz. No doubt. Brainstorming date in your fort soon?

  Ross Angelella, the Shake Shack references are all you!

  Hugs to all of the readers who allow me to keep doing what I love.

  Kate, you intimidate me (in the best possible way!) with your writing and I never stop learning from you—both in business and in life. Our adventures never get any less exciting and I always know we’re going to have epic fun when we hang out, b. And, hello, I’ve got you hooked on watermelon and cotton candy gloss—my goal is to get you to like one of those “complicated” flavors. LYSSMB. <3

  CITY SECRETS

  1

  PARK AVENUE PRINCESS

  I PEERED OUT THE TINTED WINDOW OF HEATHER Fox’s Lincoln Town Car and stared up at her building on Park Avenue in NYC. Twenty-four hours ago I’d never imagined I’d be spending fall break with my former arch nemesis.

  “Wow,” I said, turning to Heather. “You live here?”

  She flicked her blond hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Don’t freak out, Silver. This is just the driveway. If you’re acting like this now, you might have a stroke when we get inside.”

  This was where I’d be staying for Canterwood Crest’s weeklong fall break. Until last night I’d been supposed to stay with my best friend and roommate, Paige Parker, but . . . my thoughts stopped short. I didn’t want to think about my fight with Paige.

  The driver, in a crisp black suit and red tie, halted the car. His brown hair was streaked with gray and he had been supernice to us on the ride from school. He got out of the car, opened Heather’s door, and offered her a hand. I scrambled out after her and she sighed.

  “Paul was going to come around to your side next,” Heather said. “At least act like you’ve been to a real city before.”

  “I have,” I said. “I—” I shook my head, not wanting to finish the sentence. The last time I’d been to NYC was when I’d visited Paige last summer. We’d been planning this fall break forever, until . . .

  “Sasha!” Heather said, putting a hand on her hip. “Space much?”

  “Sorry,” I said, directing my gaze back to the building. “Forgot what I was going to say.”

  But there was no way I could forget. Not the awful fight Paige and I’d had last night at Friday’s Homecoming dance. In a flash of images I saw Paige and me standing in the bathroom just off the Canterwood Crest ballroom. Paige had accused me of being jealous that Ryan was her boyfriend because I didn’t have one. And I’d lost it. It had been too much after I’d suffered through Homecoming week—forced to do activities with Jacob (my ex-almost-boyfriend) and Eric (my ex-boyfriend). I’d wanted Paige to be more sensitive about everything. But instead she’d turned on me.

  The trunk of the car slammed shut and an attendant came and picked up Heather’s and my suitcases, loading them onto a cart.

  “C’mon,” Heather said. “Our stuff will be upstairs in a sec.”

  I followed her as a doorman tipped his hat, opening the door to let us inside. “Miss Fox,” he said.

  “Hi, Allen,” Heather said. She smiled at him and we walked into a lobby that looked like something out of a movie set. Nothing looked real.

  “You have exactly two seconds to gawk before I shove you back in the car,” Heather said to me.

  I couldn’t help it. The white-and-sandy-colored marble floors gleamed. A security guard monitored people heading for one of the six elevators. The gold elevators looked imposing, and elevator attendants waited to offer assistance if necessary.

  A giant stone fireplace, surrounded by crimson high-backed chairs, cast heat across the lobby. Gleaming gold fireplace tools were hung on the hearth. It looked like a spot I’d never leave during the winter if I lived here. I’d curl up with Misty of Chincoteague, one of my favorite books, and read for hours.

  Placed around the room were coffee tables and end tables—most with neat stacks of magazines, and others with vases of flowers. Potted plants were in the corners of the room. There were a few cream-colored couches where people sat and read books or chatted in quiet tones on their phones.

  My gaze traveled upward to the high ceiling and six crystal chandeliers that sparkled. Hundreds of crystals dangled from the chandeliers and reflected bits of light onto the ceiling. The chandeliers alone screamed elegance.

  On the opposite side of the elevators, a staircase with a gleaming wooden railing wrapped around the side of the room, over the fireplace, and to what looked like another level of the lobby. I stared down at my jeans and flip-flops—I looked so out of place here.

  “Enough already,” Heather said, grabbing my elbow. “People are going to stare. I do li
ve here and have to see my neighbors occasionally when I’m here on break.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  I followed Heather past the security desk. She waved at the guard and he smiled at her.

  We waited for the elevator, then stepped inside. The doors closed behind us and I almost fell back against wall when I turned to face the door.

  “There’s a TV in your elevator?” I asked.

  Heather smirked. “So easily impressed. It’s only going to get better from here, so chill before you pass out or something.”

  “I’m not going to faint,” I muttered.

  The elevator doors opened and I held my breath as we stepped into the hallway. The walls were eggshell, and the dark gray carpet had red and gold swirls. Golden accents ran along the top of the walls, near the ceiling, and I half-expected a movie star to emerge from one of the rooms. This looked like a building where celebs would def live.

  We turned the corner and stopped in front of a dark cherrywood doorway labeled PH1 in gold. Heather pressed four numbers into a keypad, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. Heather’s parents weren’t exactly . . . nice, and Mr. Fox always made me nervous. He never missed a chance to be intimidating or to make the people around him sweat.

  The red light on the keypad turned to a blinking green, and Heather pushed down the door handle. I took another breath, hoping I’d made the right decision by coming here. But it was too late to go back now. My parents had left for vacation, and there was no way I could—or would—stay with Paige. I was stuck here no matter what.

  2

  TOO LATE TO CHANGE MY MIND

  HEATHER OPENED THE DOOR AND WALKED inside. We stepped into the entryway and the only sound in the penthouse was my flip-flops slapping the marble floor. How many times today was I going to regret my shoe choice?

  Heather kicked off her wedge platforms and motioned for me to do the same.

  “The maid will put them away,” she said. “My mother will freak if you wear shoes in the apartment, FYI. She just got the carpets redone.”

  I stared at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the tables that had gorgeous lamps on them, and the sparkling crystal knobs on the closet doors.

  “Heather, you’re a half hour late.”

  Mrs. Fox walked into the room in a black v-neck dress. A diamond tennis bracelet sparkled from her wrist. She shared Heather’s blond hair, willowy build, and blue eyes.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Heather said. “Paul hit traffic.”

  Someone knocked on the door, and Heather, probably glad for the interruption, turned to open it. It was the doorman with our bags. I grabbed mine and Heather took hers.

  “Thank you,” we both said. He dipped his head and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

  “Traffic?” Mrs. Fox asked.

  The roads had been clear—Heather had waited until the last possible minute to leave. And from being inside for just two seconds, I already understood why. We’d been held hostage in the foyer since we’d gotten here.

  I had to distract Mrs. Fox from questioning Heather. She’d been nice enough to offer for me to stay with her—it was the least I could do.

  “Wow,” I said, moving toward a crystal vase filled with orchids. It sat on an end table in the entryway. “That’s so beau—”

  “Please be careful,” Mrs. Fox interrupted. “That’s from Tiffany.”

  I stepped back and stood close to Heather.

  Mrs. Fox stared at me as if I were some kind of bug or intruder in her home.

  “Heather,” she said. “Remember your manners and take Sasha to the guest room. There’s no need for everyone to be standing in the doorway. I’ll see you both at seven for dinner.”

  And with that Mrs. Fox turned and disappeared down a side hallway.

  Heather sighed. “C’mon,” she said. “Your room’s this way.”

  I followed Heather through the foyer and down a long hallway. Framed black-and-white photos of the city lined the walls. It felt like a museum, like an alarm would go off if I accidentally touched something. This was so unlike my much shorter hallway at home. Mine was decorated with framed “art” I’d created in kindergarten and time-worn family photos. Here there wasn’t one picture of Heather or her parents.

  Heather stopped in front of a door and twisted the brass knob. A light scent of violet flowed through the open door and I almost dropped my bag.

  “This is my room?” I asked. “It has a fireplace!”

  Heather smirked. “All of the bedrooms have fireplaces, Silver.”

  Wow. I had a feeling I was going to be thinking that a lot.

  I put my bag on the floor and walked over to the sliding glass door with sheer curtains held back by elegant ties. I looked out at a balcony with two wicker chairs, a small glass table, and pots of flowers that I couldn’t even attempt to name.

  “Can I—” I asked, stopping when Heather nodded.

  Heather stepped in front of me and unlatched the door. She slid it open and walked in front of me onto the balcony. I followed her, gasping at the view of New York City.

  “It almost feels like we’re in an airplane or helicopter hovering over the city,” I said.

  Heather nodded. “I still get that feeling too. The view is pretty insane.”

  I looked out over the tops of the buildings that stretched toward the puffy clouds. I grasped the iron railing and a gentle breeze blew my golden-brown hair back. It felt like I was in another country.

  “I might sleep out here,” I joked.

  Heather rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that. C’mon, let me give you a quick tour, and then you can unpack.”

  “Okay.”

  I followed Heather out of my room and we walked a few feet down the hallway. Heather pointed to doors on either side.

  “Those are two of the other guest rooms. Mom and Dad’s room is at the end of the hallway.”

  “Three guest rooms,” I said. “Wow.”

  “Get a new word before I shove the ‘wow’ out of you,” Heather said. But she smiled.

  “Fine,” I said. “Whoa.”

  “Your bathroom’s down there,” Heather said, pointing to another door.

  We turned down another hallway and passed giant bay windows that overlooked Manhattan. I couldn’t help thinking how different the view was from here than from Paige’s apartment. Paige’s fifth-floor apartment had a gorgeous view of Central Park, but it couldn’t compare to the stunning view Heather’s penthouse offered.

  “Let’s get a snack,” Heather said. We walked down another hallway that felt almost hotel-like and entered the kitchen.

  We’d no sooner sat on bar stools at the island in the kitchen than a smiling woman appeared. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun and she had on black pants and a white long-sleeve dress shirt.

  “Welcome home, Heather,” she said.

  “Thanks, Kay,” Heather said. “This is my friend Sasha, from school.”

  I blinked when Heather said “friend,” but recovered. Sometimes it was still hard to even entertain the idea that we were friends now.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling at Kay.

  “And you,” she said. “What can I make you girls?”

  “A fruit and cheese plate would be great,” Heather said. “Do you have the Havarti cheese that I like?”

  Kay nodded. “Sure do. I’ll make you girls a plate right now.”

  Kay got grapes, cantaloupe, honeydew melon, pineapple, and a handful of different cheeses out of the Sub-Zero fridge. The glass cabinets were filled with black plates, mugs, and bowls. Kay opened a cabinet near us and took out two glasses. I gulped a little. At home my favorite “glass” was a sparkly plastic cup with a horseshoe on it that Dad had won for me at the Connecticut State Fair. I’d dropped it a zillion times, and it always bounced off the kitchen floor. If I dropped one of these glasses, Mrs. Fox would probably make me become a maid for the week to work it off.

  Something buzzed and Heather pulled her ph
one out of her pocket.

  She typed a message and put her phone facedown on the counter.

  “I love Julia, but she can be so annoying sometimes,” Heather said. She grabbed a green grape off the plate that Kay set in front of us. Heather was referring to one her BFFs and one-third of their clique—the Trio.

  “What’s up?” I asked. Heather and I had a tentative friendship, but I wasn’t sure if she’d confide in me about Trio business.

  Heather took her time placing a piece of Havarti cheese on a wheat cracker. She took a bite, then looked at me.

  “Julia’s ticked that you’re spending break with me. I mean, it’s not like she was going to, anyway—her parents planned a killer trip to Miami—but she’s being weird that you and I are spending break together.”

  “What about Alison?” I asked. “How’s she acting?” Alison Robb was Heather’s other best friend, and I was much closer to Alison than I was to Julia.

  Heather waved her hand. “You know Alison likes you way more than Julia does. You did save them both from Jasmine, but Julia still has this thing with you. Alison thinks it’s cool that you’re here.”

  Jasmine King was also on the list of things I didn’t want to think about. She’d caused destruction the entire time she’d been at Canterwood, until she’d finally been caught and expelled. I speared a strawberry with my fork.

  “At least one of them thinks that,” I said. “Thanks again for letting me stay here. I really didn’t want to stay on campus for a week.”

  Heather leaned closer to me. “As if I wanted to stay here by myself for a week.”

  She stopped talking and we finished the fruit, crackers, and cheese. I couldn’t imagine how difficult summers and holidays were for Heather. Her mom wanted nothing to do with her, and I hadn’t even seen Mr. Fox yet. No doubt he’d burst into the room and start questioning Heather about her riding and what she was doing to become the best rider at Canterwood. If Heather wasn’t getting snarky comments from her mom, then she was getting grilled by her dad. No wonder she wanted someone—even someone she used to try to get kicked off the riding team—here with her during fall break.