Revelation (Private 8)

Diana looked around at her friends and shrugged. "We kind of like it where we are. It may seem

boring to you guys, but at least we don't have to deal with all the drama."

"We have other priorities," Shane added with a sniff. "Like, other than shopping."

Okay, ouch. This one at least had the requisite Billings bitchiness down.

"But that doesn't mean we're not curious about it," Sonal said, wiping her fingers on her napkin.

"So. Tell us. If you didn't kill Cheyenne, then who do you think did?"

"Sonal!" Diana scolded again.

That was about as much as I could take. I pushed myself up from my chair.

"I have to go," I said.

"Reed, I'm sorry. You don't have to--"

"No. It's cool. Thanks, Diana," I said. "I'll see you in class."

I grabbed my coat and bag and turned around, looking forward to a speedy exit into the cold air

outside. Just as I was about to push through the back door of the caf, I almost walked into Amberly

Carmichael for the second time in as many days. For once she was making an appearance sans her

normally hovering friends. Her wavy blond hair was back in a velvet headband and she wore a long

tweed skirt over black leather boots. In her arms was a Tiffany box

that was half the size of a cafeteria table, a box she'd come close to dropping during our near

collision.

"Hey!" she snapped loudly, looking me up and down. "You break it, you buy it."

"Sorry," I said, not meaning it.

She sighed, rolling her big blue eyes, and placed the box down on the empty table next to us.

"Actually, I'm glad you almost bumped into me," she said loudly, tugging her leather gloves off

finger by finger. "I'll be needing that Carma Card back."

Half the cafeteria fell silent, all the better to eavesdrop. I looked around, my face turning ten

shades of red. From the corner of my eye, I saw Portia and Shelby craning their necks to better see

the proceedings. Noelle was looking on, amused. Clearly Amberly was performing for them. This

little twit who had been kowtowing to me since the beginning of the year. The girl who would

have jumped off a bridge if I'd asked her to a week ago. Now she was treating me like the hired

help. Or worse. Could this be any more humiliating?