When Kristi had spied Ariel’s friends at the student union yesterday afternoon, she’d purposely stopped by Trudie and Grace’s table to ask about her. Chomping on chicken strips and ranch dressing, they’d insisted Ariel’s vanishing act wasn’t in the least bit strange. Ariel liked her space and sometimes, especially when studying for a major test, she would disappear, only coming out for a needed Starbucks run. That piece of wisdom had been dispensed by Grace, the near-anorexic with braces and electric-shock red hair.

Trudie had nodded, agreeing with Grace’s assessment. “Everybody needs some downtime,” she’d said, dipping a fried piece of chicken into a small plastic cup of dressing. “Ariel just needs more than most of us.” She’d bobbed her head, as if agreeing with herself.

Kristi had tried to strike up more of a conversation without turning the girls off, but they seemed more interested in their food than worrying about Ariel the Studious. But they’d been a little friendlier than usual, making room for her to pull up a hard plastic chair, so Kristi considered it progress. As she sat down they gabbled on about how they couldn’t wait for the second performance of “hot” Father Mathias’s play, offering up a few wishful, sighing comments about it being a “shame” the priest had taken his vows of celibacy. Then they mentioned meeting for drinks before the show. They always had a drink or two at the Watering Hole, just off campus, before they watched the play.

“You should join us sometime,” Grace said, obviously trying to be polite. Trudie shot her a look and Kristi lifted a shoulder as if the invitation wasn’t a big deal.

“Maybe I will. Someday,” Kristi agreed, ignoring the increased look of wariness on Trudie’s olive-toned face.

“Good.” Grace had been pleased, or so it had seemed.

Not so her friend. Trudie, obviously agitated, had yanked on her sagging ponytail with both hands, forcing the rubber band higher on her head, so that the thick black shank of hair hung higher and brushed her shoulders. All the while she fiddled with her hair, she glowered at Grace.

Kristi had acted as if she didn’t care one way or the other. She wasn’t sure how to take this thin olive branch of friendship, but Ariel’s “friends” knew something; she was sure of it. She just had to gain their confidence, pretend to be like them. That would be a trick because the more she knew about the girls who seemed prime candidates for the vampire cult, the less she liked them.