"No, put it on," Schuyler urged. The fabricated "reality show" about the lives of three vacuous and yet strangely fascinating blond girls from Los Angeles was their favorite.
"So how'd he find out?" Bliss asked, keeping her eyes on the screen. Then she paused the action and turned to Schuyler. "Although, I guess it doesn't matter. You know he would eventually."
"I know," Schuyler said. "I wish you wouldn't look at me that way. I know what you're thinking."
"I didn't say anything."
"You don't have to."
Bliss rubbed Schuyler's back. She was sympathetic, but Schuyler had known what she was doing when she hooked up with Jack. She'd alienated a friend, and for what - Jack Force? What did she see in him anyway?
"Look, I've got to tell you something: Mimi and I visited Dylan today," Bliss said. She repeated everything the doctor had told her.
Schuyler was astonished and confused. "So if it wasn't Dylan who killed Aggie and all those others - who was it?"
"Who knows?"
"Does anyone else know about this? That he didn't do it?"
"Other than Mimi and me? Yeah. Forsyth," Bliss said. She realized she somehow couldn't bring herself to call him "Dad" lately. "Dr. Andrews said he'd called him once the tests came in."
"But your dad didn't mention anything to you?"
"Not a word."
"Or to the Conclave?"
"Mimi said Forsyth didn't tell them about Dylan at all," Bliss said, feeling more and more embarrassed about her father's actions.
"I wonder why ..."
"Maybe he did it to help me," Bliss said defensively. "He knew the Conclave would want Dylan destroyed, so he hid him from them."
"But Dylan's not a Silver Blood," Schuyler said. "And he never was. So there was no threat that he would be destroyed. They performed the test, and he passed. Hey, what's with the suitcase?" she asked, motioning to the half-packed Tumi rollers at the foot of Bliss's bed.
"Oh yeah, we're going away."
"Where?"
"Rio. Forsyth said Nan Cutler called a major Conclave meeting, told them your grandfather needed help, and now everyone's going."
"What kind of help?" Schuyler demanded.
"Hey - don't worry," Bliss said, seeing the panicked expression on her friend's face. "I'm sure he's all right."
"I haven't heard from Lawrence in a long time," Schuyler admitted. "I've been so caught up with Jack I didn't even notice. What else did Forsyth say?"
Bliss was reluctant to say, but decided Schuyler had a right to know. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but it sounded like Lawrence was in some sort of trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"I wish I could tell you. All I know is this morning Forsyth told us we were going to Rio. Conclave business." She pointed the remote control in the direction of the television screen and fast-forwarded through the commercials.
The show came back on, and Bliss reached under her bed and handed Schuyler a bag of her favorite jalape§â potato chips. "Anyway, don't worry about Ollie. He'll come around. You know he will."
"I don't know about that. I really think he hates me, Bliss. He told me it was him or Jack. That I had to choose."
"And what did you say?"