Kaitlynn scrambled to her feet and got right in Ariana's face. "That's your brilliant plan? Get Allison caught cheating! What do you think this is, some kind of Disney Channel special?"
"I was trying to get the job done without anyone getting hurt," Ariana repli
ed through her teeth. "See, Kaitlynn, when people get hurt or murdered it kind of draws attention to the situation. And that's the last thing either of us wants."
"You're an idiot," Kaitlynn said, pacing over to her bed. "All you've done is wasted your time and mine. Now I have to figure out a way to off the competition and I only have a few days to do it."
Ariana wanted to scream. She wanted to scream so badly she felt as if her throat, her brain, and her heart were all going to explode.
"Didn't you hear a word I just said?" she hissed. "We cannot have a murder on campus, Kaitlynn. If anyone dies, we all get interviewed. And if you and I get interviewed, they are going to realize the truth about us."
Kaitlynn looked off toward the door. "It's just going to be so hard deciding who has to go," she said, as if she were talking about figuring out which coat to wear. "Although technically, it should be you," she added, gesturing at Ariana. "You're obviously a waste of space."
Groaning in desperation, Ariana grabbed the nearest thing she could find to stanch the bleeding on her leg, which just happened to
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be Kaitlynn's white APH hoodie. She held it over her cut and winced against the pain. Sitting down on her own bed, she held her breath and counted to ten.
"You said I had until Saturday night, remember?" Ariana spoke slowly.
Kaitlynn glanced up. "Yeah. So?"
"So, be patient. I'll take care of it. I still have five days," Ariana said. She carefully removed the sweatshirt. It stuck to the wound for a moment, then peeled away, leaving a trail of sharp pain. Ariana gritted her teeth as she looked over the wound. It was ugly but not too deep. It didn't look as if she would need stitches.
"You'll take care of it," Kaitlynn said dubiously.
"Yes. I said I would, and I will," Ariana replied, though she had absolutely no idea how. All she knew was that she had to protect her friends and herself, whatever the cost.
"Fine. If you say so," Kaitlynn said with a shrug. Then she lay back on her bed and pulled the covers over her, as if nothing more had happened than a quick midnight chat between friends. "Good night, Ariana. Oh, and you owe me a sweatshirt."
Then she turned on her side, her back facing Ariana, and promptly fell asleep.
For a long few minutes, Ariana sat there, listening to Kaitlynn breathe, marveling over the depths of the girl's psychosis, holding the sweatshirt to her leg. Then, ever so carefully, she crouched to her knees, leaned down, and extracted the bloody steak knife from under her bed. It was one of the knives they used at the dining hall. Ariana
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wondered when Kaitlynn had stolen it, and whether there were any more like it hidden in their room.
Slowly, she stood up, gripping the handle of the knife in her sweaty, blood--caked palm. She imagined herself driving the blade into Kaitlynn's back. The look of confusion and pain and reproach in Kaitlynn's terrified eyes.
Ariana breathed in and out, matching the cadence of her breath to Kaitlynn's, clutching the knife--her salvation--in her grip. And then, finally, the moment passed. She knew she couldn't do it, even though it would be so very satisfying. So very justified. If she murdered Kaitlynn in their shared dorm room, she would be back at the Brenda T. by tomorrow night. It couldn't be. And that frustrated her more than any of the failures she had endured over the last few days.
Sooner or later, Kaitlynn would get hers. The universe had a way of working these things out. Ariana simply hoped she would be there when justice was served. That she would have some part, even the smallest part, in making it happen.
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THE BULL DO ZER
Tuesday afternoon after classes, Ariana was walking across campus toward the tennis courts when she spotted Palmer coming out of the library. Her breath caught in her throat at the mere sight of him. Her first instinct was to avoid him. Lexa hadn't asked Conrad to the NoBash yet, so the two were not officially together. But Ariana had suffered a rough night. She deserved a bit of a flirt. Besides, Lexa's holier--than--thou act had seriously pissed her off.He spotted her before she reached him and his eyes traveled up and down her practice uniform appreciatively, taking in the navy blue APH polo and white miniskirt. But then, of course, he frowned at the large bandage around her leg.
"Hey," he said, pausing in front of her. He took a quick look around, and, finding the coast apparently clear, lifted her hand to kiss it. "What happened to your leg?"
"Midnight snack accident," Ariana replied, lifting a shoulder. "Never take the stairs when half--asleep."
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"Sound advice," Palmer said, removing his baseball from his bag and tossing it up in front of him. "Can I walk you to practice?"