Ambition (Private 7)

things to do around here. Maybe I should just leave the investigating of potential psychos to the cops.

SO MUCH FOR THAT

Sunday morning dawned crisp and cold. So cold that I had to huddle close to Noelle, Constance, Vienna, and London as we hurried

across the leaf-strewn campus toward the dining hall. As the wind whipped my hair back from my face, I burrowed my chin into my

scarf and wished I had thought to bring my wool hat. All I wanted to do was get inside again as quickly as possible. All my friends

wanted to do was talk about my date. "I can't believe you walked out on Hunter Braden," Vienna said, clutching London's arm in her

shearling coat. "No one walks out on Hunter Braden." "Reed Brennan does," Noelle said, sounding proud. "I'm sorry. He's just... not

my type," I told them, my words muffled by my scarf. I wriggled my chin out and ducked it over the woolly fabric. "He's everyone's

type," London replied. "Until you talk to him," I told her. "Just trust me. It was the most boring night of my life."London and Vienna

looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Fine. We'll go to the next candidate," London said, whipping the printed F.Y.R. list out of

her pocket. The wind almost made off with it, but she managed to keep it clutched in her gloves. "But if Hunter Braden is boring, I

don't really know who's going to satisfy you," she added under her breath. "Who's next?" Constance asked, trying to see over Lon-

don's shoulder as we walked.

"Dominic Infante. Portia's pick," London replied. "Actually, I think I'm going to ask out Marc Alberro," I told them. "You are?"

Constance's face lit up. "Who?" London blurted, looking confused. "Number fifteen," Vienna informed her, pointing. "Reed, come on.

He's, like, a scholarship student." Noelle snorted a laugh at the faux pas. I stopped in my tracks just outside the door to the dining hall

and they all stopped as well. I stared down the blank-faced Twin Cities until they remembered who they were talking to--another

scholarship student. "Oh! Right!" Vienna said finally, blushing. "But this is different. I mean, he's a Dreck." Dreck was the not-so-

positive nickname the Billings Girls had for residents of Drake Hall, the upperclassman dorm where the "unsavory" boys lived.

"Plus he's president of the Purity Club," London said with a shudder, sticking her tongue out like she'd just swallowed a bug. "Eas-

ton has a Purity Club?" I asked, shocked. "Oh, it's, like, really small," Vienna clarified. Interesting. I couldn't imagine anyone at this

particularly horny school wanting to remain pure, let alone advertise the fact. Marc Alberro was looking better and better. A smart,

funny, cute boy with no delusions of grandeur who was not out for sex? Count me in. "I'm asking him out," I said, whipping open the

door and striding into the warm, hustle-bustle of the dining hall. "Yay!" Constance cheered. The Twin Cities protested under their

breath, but I pretended not to hear. I'd done it their way. Now it was time to try it my way. I unbuttoned my coat as I walked over to

the Billings tables, feeling confident in my decision. Feeling, in fact, better than I had in days. But the feeling was short-lived.

Halfway across the cafeteria I noticed people whispering. Eyeing me warily. Glancing away quickly when I looked in their direction.

An eerie sense of deja vu settled in around my shoulders. The vibe in the room was way too familiar. It felt exactly like it had after

Thomas's body had been found.

I gulped for air. Cheyenne. Had Easton somehow found out about the murder investigation? "What's up with the morgue vibe?"