The Academy

Chapter Thirty-Two

Our name became "The Beaumont Girls".

After the media found the story, the Beaumont Girls were on every newspaper, blog, and television station. There was one particular picture that the media plastered everywhere: a photo of Ivy, Marisol, Carlisle, Aspen, Lindsay, and I at the Beaumont Ball. I'd watch television and flip through channels and be greeted by our smiling faces more than once. It was such a strange feeling—constantly encountering people talking about us—and every time I would hear one of our names on television or read it in a newspaper or magazine, my stomach would somersault.

I would frequently receive calls from journalists, begging for me to answer questions regarding Rosterford, the murders, and attempted murders. Marisol would too. Finally, we both changed our numbers to avoid this.

Right after the whole situation occurred, my parents flew me back to Bunting for about a month. While I was there, my schoolwork would be sent to me. Fortunately, all of my teachers didn't assign much so it was easy for me to stay caught up. I didn't know if this was because they felt bad for me due to what occurred, or if they were in shock themselves because someone they had known so long had completely surprised them. Both made sense.

The four of us were able to graduate on time and flew back to Boston to walk alongside our classmates—and each other—during graduation. At first, my parents thought it would be a bad idea for me to go back, but I was able to convince them to let me walk instead of getting my diploma mailed to me. Graduation was a defining moment, and despite what had happened, I didn't want that to be taken away from me.

Media attention stayed on us, and due to this, a large amount of rumors circulated. Most were harmless and quite funny—such as Marisol and I fighting back Rosterford with some karate—but a few were hurtful. There was one rumor in particular a few weeks after Rosterford's arrest that devastated Aspen. Some reporter found records about her abortion and spread that it was really Rosterford's baby and the two of them were having an affair. Aspen was so upset that she refused to answer her phone for a week and a half and wouldn't leave the house for half a month. Words couldn't describe how terrible I felt for her.

Right after graduation, each of us received a call from Boston Top News, a news station in the heart of Boston that wanted us to come on their show and speak about what had happened. Something inside each of us stirred, and we realized that this would be the best way to tell our story. That took a lot of convincing for me to be able to go on the news with the other girls, but eventually my parents gave in. Sitting in front of the mirror in our shared dressing room, it finally started to sink in that our lives would never be the same.

"Sleeves down or rolled up?" Carlisle asked from behind me, fumbling with the sleeves of her pale-yellow chiffon top.

"Rolled up," I replied, analyzing her outfit in the mirror. "It looks more professional."

She nodded and rolled them up, just as a knock sounded at the dressing room door. Lindsay got up from the black leather futon that she and Marisol shared to answer it. Sarah, an intern who was in charge of making sure we were where we needed to be when we needed to be there, stood in the doorway, one of her hands on the headset she was wearing.

"Girls, ten minutes," she said. "Do you need anything?"

Aspen cleared her throat from the chair beside me, still wrapping sections of long blonde hair around a curling wand. "Can I get some water?" she asked, her voice raspy.

"Of course." Sarah disappeared back into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

My stomach started to growl, and I realized how hungry I really was. All morning, I had been so nervous for this that I didn't eat anything, and now my hunger was really starting to hit me. I reached for a glazed donut from a box on the futon, where Marisol was stuffing them in her mouth like they were the last donuts on earth.