Perfect Mistake (Privilege 3)

"What is going on out here?" Lexa asked, emerging from her room in her robe, freshly showered.

"Someone's gone around chopping off people's hair in the middle of the night," Soomie replied, whirling around.

"What?" Lexa went ashen.

"Allison, Soomie, and Ana all found locks of their hair in boxes by their beds," Brigit explained.

Lexa whirled around and ran back to her room. She emerged a moment later, looking slightly relieved but still freaked. "Maria's gone, but I don't see anything," she said, approaching. She looked over the velvet box in Soomie's hand. "They didn't leave a note or anything?"

Ariana's heart lurched as she thought of the calendar that had been

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stashed with her lock of hair. She hoped Lexa didn't go looking for her box.

"No. Nothing," Ariana said.

"Who could have done this? And why you three?" Brigit asked.

Lexa narrowed her eyes "I don't know, but don't worry, girls. I'm sure it's just a stupid prank. And we're going to find out who's behind it."

Everyone else looked relieved. They all went back to their rooms to get on with their day. Lexa, however, stayed behind. She winced as she looked over Ariana's hair.

"Wow. You got it the worst, huh?" she said.

"I guess so," Ariana replied, inwardly seething.

"Don't worry. Go shower and then I'll help you fix it up," Lexa offered with a smile.

"Thanks, Lexa," Ariana said, touched.

Safely inside her room, she picked up the jewelry box from the floor and placed it carefully on Kaitlynns desk. Her hands were still shaking, but her pulse had slowed to normal. More than anything, she was annoyed that she had allowed herself to feel even a smidgen of fear over something that bitch had done.

For just a moment, Ariana had let Kaitlynn take control. She would not let it happen again.

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SUPER SPIES

"Mr. Pitt?"Ariana peaked through the open door of her guidance counselor's office. He was kicked back in his leather chair, eating a powdered--sugar donut and reading a well--worn copy of A Brief History of Time. The moment she appeared he sat up straight and coughed, puffing a cloud of white sugar all over his dark blue sweater--vest. Ariana did her best not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She liked Mr. Pitt, but if he didn't want to be caught slacking--off while indulging in sugar--caked carbs, why leave the door open? This was basic stuff.

"Miss Covington!"

He slapped the book closed, dropped the donut onto a piece of waxed paper, and dusted off his desk with the pinky side of his hand. His gaze was expectant as he rested his thick forearms atop the clutter of his desk.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" Ariana asked.

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As she stepped inside, her hands clutched the strap on her messenger bag. Ever since the hair incident that morning, she'd been clenching her fists or clutching something all the time. She'd been forced to cut her extensions before she even got to Lexa so that her friend wouldn't realize her hair was fake. Then Lexa had shaped it into a new, shorter do that looked pretty shoddy, even though everyone kept telling her it was very now. As soon as she had a free minute she was going into town to get a real haircut.

"Absolutely." He gestured at the chair across from his desk, but she didn't take it. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had any SAT study guides you could lend me," Ariana said. "I've decided to take the test in October so I'll have plenty of chances to try again."

Although she didn't actually feel the need for study guides, her plan of attack was factual. It was one of the awful drawbacks of starting over--having to retake the SATs. Three years ago she'd nailed a nearly perfect score, but she'd gotten it as Ariana Osgood. It meant nothing now. As much as Ariana had always enjoyed taking standardized tests--the tiny circles to fill in with perfectly sharpened pencils, the warm vibe of tension and fear permeating the air, the excitement of knowing the answer--she dreaded the idea that she might not be able to improve on her original score.

"Of course, of course." Mr. Pitt got up and wiped his fingers on his brown pants, leaving a white sugar streak on his thigh, which he failed to notice. He bent and yanked open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet behind his desk, which made a loud squeal, as if it hadn't been