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the police have something or they wouldn't be questioning all these people," Rose said. Her normally healthy skin looked waxy under
her red ringlets. "I just can't imagine it. She must have been so scared. Why didn't she call for help? Why didn't she--" Rose's voice
broke and she covered her face with her sleeve, which was pulled down over her hand. Tiffany put her arm around her and shot me a
sad look. "We'll go get a table," she said.
My insides quaked as Constance and I joined the short line at the counter. I wanted to squirm to try to make this awful feeling go
away, but I knew it wouldn't work. This feeling wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No point in letting half the school see me fid-
gety and nervous and scared in the meantime. "I hate this. I hate it," Constance said, hugging herself tighter. She leaned closer to me
as the worker behind the counter fired up the foam maker. "Do you realize that someone in this room might have killed her? Might
have snuck right into our dorm while we were all asleep and killed Cheyenne? I can't handle this." I was about to respond when the al-
ready quiet vibe went deathly still. As if someone had just hit the mute button on the sound track of our lives. Startled by the sudden
silence, I turned around. Ivy stood in the doorway, looking like a rabid pit bull ready to strike.
No one moved. They had let her go. The police had let her go. Her blue eyes found me in the crowd. "You," she said under her
breath. She stormed across the room. Everyone turned to look at me now. To see what I would do. They must have been disappointed,
because I could think of nothing. Like a deer in headlights, I just let her come. "Ivy." Josh stood as she passed before him, but she
flinched away. In two seconds her hand was on my arm. Grip like a vice. She dragged me away from Constance, who let out a gasp.
"What are you--" "Back off," Ivy snapped at her. Ivy pulled me into the corner near the emergency exit where we were partially hid-
den from view by a large potted plant. I couldn't see anyone from this vantage point, which meant they couldn't see me either. My
pulse started to race. Suddenly the airy room was full of murmurs. What was Ivy doing? No one treated the president of Billings this
way. The thought finally woke me up from my stunned stupor and I snatched my arm back, sure her grip was going to leave finger-
shaped bruises. "What is wrong with you, you--"
"I know you were in my room at the Legacy," Ivy said, cutting me off. She stepped right up in my face, her dark hair like two blan-
kets around those eerie blue eyes. I took an instinctive step back, then hated myself for it. "You found my albums. You left them all
over the floor, so I know that you know." "Know what?" I said, stalling for time. "Don't play dumb. It's beneath you," Ivy said. Weird.
Was that a compliment? "Did you tell the police about me and Cheyenne?" she asked. She was all accusatory. Indignant. As if I had
done something wrong. I lifted my chin and looked her dead in the eye. "Yes, I did. You've got to admit, it's all a little suspect," I said
firmly. "You guys are best friends all the way up through sophomore year, but now you hate each other out of nowhere? Put it all to-
gether with your shady criminal past and whatever this deal was with your grandmother and you start to look like a suspect to me."
"Shut up," Ivy said venomously. She didn't even register surprise at the revelation that I knew about her family and her indiscre-
tions. "Do not talk about things you will never understand." "So make me understand them," I replied, growing warm from all the
adrenaline. "What the hell happened between you guys?" "I don't have to explain myself," Ivy said with a sneer. "Least of all to you."
