"Don't worry. When I need you, you'll know." Then he tossed his baseball up in the air, caught it, and strode away.
Ariana breathed in the fresh, late-summer air, enjoying the excited rush of her pulse, and looked down at her purse. There would be no getting rid of her phone now. Palmer had the number. And if there was one thing she wanted in this life, it was Palmer being able to get hold of her whenever he damn well pleased.
She was just going to have to find a way to deal with Hudson.
55
ROOMMATES
Ariana had never missed Noelle Lange more than she did at that moment. As she tried on her new uniform pieces, each stirrer and itchier than the last, Allison sat on her bed with her earbuds cranked up and a magazine open on her lap, watching Ariana's every move. She watched as Ariana shimmied in and out of skirts, as she buttoned and unbuttoned blouses, as she tried on a cardigan sweater, then a blazer. When Ariana turned to the side to check out her profile, Allison snorted. Ariana shot her an irritated look and the girl trained her eyes on her magazine, as if she hadn't been observing Ariana for the last fifteen minutes.
You have no idea who you're dealing with, Ariana thought, her nostrils flaring slightly as she glared at the unsuspecting girl. I can think of five different ways to end you right now.When Allison looked up again, Ariana made sure to hold her gaze until the girl blushed and glanced away first. Then Ariana sighed, bored now, and went back to her private fashion show.
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Allison was not a person Ariana could live with for very long. Unfortunately the girl was also on gold, just like her pal Tahira. Ariana could only hope that once they got into Privilege House, the two of them would decide to room together and there would be someone cool who needed a new roommate. In the meantime, being sequestered with the girl for the last hour just brought home how amazing it was to be paired with a real friend. She missed the sound of Noelle's voice, which filled every room she entered. Missed her bald-faced honesty. Her humor. Her advice. Missed living with someone she loved.
Or had loved. Until the girl turned her back on Ariana and chose Reed Brennan over her.
Maybe Allison as a roommate wasn't half bad. If they never became friends, there was far less of a chance that Allison would end up betraying her.
"Allison? Can I ask a question?"
The girl rolled her eyes and made a big, exaggerated show of removing her earbuds from her ears, as if Ariana were making a huge imposition.
"What?"
"How does laundry work around here? I didn't see a laundry room," Ariana said, holding tightly to her patience.
Allison heaved a sigh and sat up straight. "See that bag?"
She pointed at a light blue bag that was folded and placed atop the shelf above Ariana's desk.
"You put your dirty clothes in that bag and leave it in the hallway before eight p.m. In the morning it comes back to you all clean
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and neatly folded. It's like a miracle," Allison said facetiously, her eyes wide. Then she flopped back down on her pillows and put her ear-buds in again before noisily flipping the pages of her magazine.
"Thank you!" Ariana shouted. No need to let this girl stop her from being polite.
She slipped her arms into the navy blue cardigan again and ran her fingers over the gold APH crest on the breast pocket. Ariana had always wished that Easton Academy had required uniforms. She liked how neat and cohesive they made the student body look. She cherished the tradition of wearing the school colors and proudly displaying the crest. Uniforms instilled pride. Integrity. Loyalty. Qualities that many of the people at Easton had lacked.
Even though the short-sleeved shirt was making her itch and the pleated plaid skirt needed to be hemmed, Ariana decided she would wear them to the three o'clock team meeting, along with a blue and gold tie. Her comfort was far less important than her inconspicuous-ness. She didn't want to stand out like the newbie she was. She wanted to blend. To fool everyone into thinking she had been here all along.
Allison laid her magazine aside and picked up a copy of the Washington Post. As she lazily turned the pages, Ariana reached back to French braid her hair. Then, suddenly, Allison paused and looked up from the paper. She stared at Ariana, her eyes slightly narrowed, her lips slightly taut. Ariana's heart started to race. Every day since Briana Leigh's exhumation from the lake, Ariana had checked the newspaper for any stories on herself or Kaitlynn, just to make sure no one had started to ask questions. But today she had been so busy, she hadn't
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thought to look. What if there was something in there about her funeral? A picture of Ariana or a story about Kaitlynn that mentioned her old friend Briana Leigh Covington?
Instantly she began mentally cataloging everything in the room, trying to find something that could be of use to her. There were plenty of neckties in the closet, a pair of large scissors on Allisons desk, and pillows. Pillows could be helpful. But there were people everywhere, chatting in the halls, hanging in the lounge. A struggle would definitely be heard. What was she going to do?
"I'm out of here," Allison said, suddenly rising from the bed. She curled the newspaper up, tossed it in the trash can, and brushed by Ariana, slamming the door behind her. The second she was gone, Ariana dove for the paper and ripped through it, making sure to take in every line of every last page. There was nothing. Nothing but stock quotes and football scores and stories of human suffering.
Ariana was just being paranoid.
With a sigh, she returned the newspaper to the trash and turned toward the mirror. So Allison hadn't seen anything to make her suspect Ariana. She was simply prone to staring. Which was just one of her many drawbacks. Taking a deep breath, Ariana wiped the newsprint from her hands with a tissue from Allison's desk and tossed that in the trash as well. She couldn't help looking forward to the gold team's imminent win and to getting out of Cornwall and into Privilege House. Because her perfect new life could not include an imperfect roommate.