Invitation Only (Private 2) - Page 37

The good old days. I had been so stressed out about that par­tic­ular task I had al­most lost it. Now I would have stolen a test ev­ery night if all this oth­er crap would have just gone away.

Ki­ran led me down to the ground floor and pushed open the ex­it doors to the back of the build­ing.

“Do you have to go back to class?” she asked me, slip­ping on her Guc­ci shades.

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“No, they said I could spend the rest of the day in the li­brary,” I said, tak­ing out my yel­low pass.

“Good,” Ki­ran said with a nod.

She start­ed off along the wind­ing path that led to the li­brary. I had about a dozen ques­tions for her. Like how she had found out my name was up and how she had got­ten out of class. What she meant when she'd said Nay­lor had been try­ing to snag her all year. But I didn't ask any of them.

“So, how did it go?” Ki­ran asked, look­ing straight ahead. She crossed her arms over her chest and held her­self tight­ly as she walked. Her high-?heeled boots click-?clack

ed against the flag­stone path.

“It was okay. Nerve-?wrack­ing,” I said.

“Why?”

“I don't know. You did it al­ready, right?” I said.

She nod­ded.

“Don't you hate the way they look at you? Like you're guilty of some­thing?”

“They didn't look at me that way,” Ki­ran said.

Oh. That made me feel so much bet­ter.

“Be­sides, it's not like it was the first time I've ev­er been in­ter­viewed by po­lice,” she said in a bored tone.

“Re­al­ly?”

“I've had stalk­ers,” she told me mat­ter-?of-?fact­ly. "They're al­ways ask­ing me ques­tions, as if I did some­thing to pro­voke it.

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As if it's my fault these psy­chos spend hours in front of their com­put­ers vi­olat­ing them­selves to my pic­ture."

All right then.

“What did they ask you?” she said.

I took a deep breath and tried to erase the men­tal im­age of some fat, bald­ing guy in a wife-?beat­er sit­ting in front of a glow­ing screen....

Ugh. Men­tal note: Nev­er be fa­mous.

“Prob­ably the same stuff they asked you and ev­ery­one else,” I replied.

“I doubt it,” Ki­ran said with a laugh. Then, notic­ing my sur­prised glance, she added, “You're the girl­friend.”

“I guess. I don't know,” I said, trudg­ing along, kick­ing at fall­en leaves. “They asked me what my re­la­tion­ship sta­tus with Thomas was, when was the last time I saw him ...”

“And what did you say?”

“The truth,” I told her. “That I saw him on Fri­day morn­ing.”

Tags: Kate Brian Private
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