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"Ariana?" Thomas rested his hand on her shoulder and she flinched.
"What?" she snapped. Her voice severed the space between them like a razor blade.
Thomas looked surprised. "Nothing. I just thought you wanted to get this over with."
Ariana avoided his gaze. "You're right. Let's go." She pushed Sergei's door open and tried the light switch on
the wall. It worked. "Power's back on."
Sergei's room was sparse and perfectly organized. His books and notebooks were stacked in symmetrical
piles on his desk, and his bed was made so tightly, Ariana wondered whether he had ever actually slept in it.
The attention to detail was familiar-comforting, in a weird way. It was a lot like Ariana's room.
A single photograph of an older-looking man and woman hung above his dresser. And sitting on his
nightstand, next to a tiny travel alarm clock, was another photograph. A black-and-white photograph of
Ariana, blowing a kiss to the camera.
"Found it." She sank onto the edge of Sergei's bed in disbelief, staring into her own eyes. No matter how sure
she'd sounded earlier, part of her still hadn't believed Sergei could do such a thing. He was so unassuming, so
quiet. But who knew what churned beneath his calm exterior? For the first time since she'd spotted the telltale
argyle in the picture of her and Thomas, she felt afraid.
Thomas collapsed onto the bed ne
xt to her. "Got the camera," he said, holding up Sergei's Nikon. "Your
boyfriend must have given it
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back before he left." He held it up so Ariana could see and pressed the display button at slow intervals. "But
he let the Latvian keep his photos."
Ariana stared at the glowing images on the display screen. Snapshots of her walking to class, clutching her
books tightly to her chest. A picture of her and Noelle, laughing in the cafeteria. Countless images of her
sitting alone, reading. And shot after shot of her at the Winter Ball. Nuzzling Daniel's neck. Taking a sip of
champagne. Twirling a lock of hair around her index finger.
She leaned against Thomas, suddenly feeling weak. "I had no idea he was this ..." She couldn't even finish
her sentence. There must have been dozens of images of her in Sergei's camera. Scrolling through them was
like watching a slide show of her life for the past few months. Everything she'd done, everywhere she'd been,
was right at her fingertips.
