I never knew why they were called residence halls instead of dormitories. Perhaps it was because they looked so much like hotels nowadays. There were no ivy-covered walls bedecking the hallowed halls here, the lobby had lots of glass and potted plants, and the halls were carpeted and clean and new-looking.

We stopped at the door of Jessica's room. It had a small, neat card taped at eye level that read ARIEL GOLDMAN & JESSICA ORTEGA. Below that in smaller print it said INTOXICANTS REQUIRED FOR ENTRY. Someone had underlined "Entry" and scrawled below it YOU THINK?

Deborah raised an eyebrow at me. "Party girls," she said.
"Somebody has to do it," I said.

She snorted and knocked on the door. There was no answer, and Debs waited a full three seconds before knocking again, much harder. I heard a door open behind me and turned to see a reed-thin girl with short blond hair and glasses looking at us. "They're not here," she said with clear disapproval. "For like a couple of days. First quiet I've had all semester."

"Do you know where they went?" Deborah asked her.
The girl rolled her eyes. "Must be a major kegger somewhere," she said.
"When was the last time you saw them?" Deborah said.

The girl shrugged. "With those two it's not seeing them, it's hearing them. Loud music and laughing all night, okay? Major pain in the butt for somebody who actually studies and goes to class." She shook her head, and her short hair riffled around her face. "I mean, please."

"So when was the last time you heard them?" I asked her.
She looked at me. "Are you like cops or something? What did they do now?"
"What have they done before?" Debs asked.

She sighed. "Parking tickets. I mean, lots of them. DUI once. Hey, I don't want to sound like I'm ratting them out or something." "Would you say it's unusual for them to be away like this?" I said.

"What's unusual is if they show up to class. I don't know how they pass anything. I mean," she gave us half a smirk, "I can probably guess how they pass, but…" She shrugged. She did not share her guess with us, unless you counted her smirk.

"What classes do they have together?" Deborah asked.
The girl shrugged again and shook her head. "You'd have to check like the registrar," she said.

It was not a terribly long walk to see like the registrar, especially at the pace Deborah set. I managed to keep up with her and still have enough breath to ask her a pointed question or two. "Why does it matter what classes they had together?"

Deborah made an impatient gesture with her hand. "If that girl is right, Jessica and her roommate-" "Ariel Goldman," I said.
"Right. So if they are trading sex for good grades, that makes me want to talk to their professors."