Revelation (Private 8)

blue dress I had never seen before, with an asymmetrical, off-the-shoulder neckline and full skirt.

"It is the only one she's got," Portia added. She was, as ever, sporting her signature green--a slim-

cut dress that showed off every single curve.

There was definitely a comeback in there. Something about how Portia only ever wore the same

nasty color, but they sidled off before I could respond, laughing happily at their lame insults.

Okay. So maybe I wasn't doing perfection.

"Ignore those cows," Astrid said, laying a cold hand on my bare arm. She was as funky as ever in a

punked-out pink dress with black and purple netting over the skirt and a pillbox hat. Her shoes

were black lace high-top Converse. "Instead, let's discuss how the Crom has completely

transformed the cafeteria. I expect it took him ages to plan all this. Perhaps he has a soft side after

all."

"I kind of doubt the last part, but it is pretty spectacular," I admitted.

On every window hung a real fir wreath decorated with pine-cones and red ribbons, and real

evergreen swags were draped along the walls, strung with white lights as well, filling the room

with the comforting scent of fresh pine. All the chairs were covered in green velvet and secured

with red bows, and at each china place setting was a small favor of Godiva chocolate, presented in

a little red sleigh. But the real main attraction was the clothes. The students of Easton definitely

knew how to clean up. Everywhere I looked there were velvet frocks and pearls, wrist-length

gloves and kitten heels, tuxes and silk

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scarves. It was one big constant-motion fashion show. Even the flasks the guys were hiding in the

pockets of their jackets were superchic. Monogrammed or platinum or leather or, in Dominic

Infante's case, Gucci.

And then, of course, there was the tremendous Christmas tree in the center of the room. The star

at the top nearly brushed the panes of the skylight, and every sparkling ornament on the tree was

perfectly placed. White lights twinkled and winked from its boughs, and the garland was made of

hand-strung popcorn and cranberries.

"Do you think the garland is real?" I asked.

"It is. I already checked," Marc said, popping an hors d'oeuvre into his mouth.

"How did you check?" Constance asked.