A quick scan of Angeline showed nothing too concerning. Her jeans were threadbare but decent, as was her T-shirt. Even her mop of strawberry blonde hair was tame for a change, tied back in a ponytail.

“What on earth did you wear that got her so upset then?” I asked.

Scowling, Angeline went to her dresser and produced a pair of jean shorts with the most ragged hem I’d ever seen. I thought they’d unravel before my eyes. They were also so short that I wouldn’t have been surprised if they showed underwear when she wore them.

“Where did you get those?”

Angeline almost looked proud. “I made them.”

“With what, a hacksaw?”

“I had two pairs of jeans,” she said pragmatically. “It was so hot out, I figured I might as well turn one into shorts.”

“She used a knife from the cafeteria,” said Jill helpfully.

“Couldn’t find the scissors,” explained Angeline.

My bed. Where was my bed?

“Mrs. Weathers mentioned something about an indecent shirt too,” I said.

“Oh,” said Jill. “That was mine.”

I felt my eyebrows rise. “What? I know you don’t own anything ‘indecent.”’ Before Angeline had come along a month ago, Jill and I had been roommates.

“It’s not,” agreed Jill. “Except, it’s not really Angeline’s size.”

I glanced between the two girls and understood. Jill was tall and slim, like most Moroi, with a figure much coveted among human fashion designers, a figure I would’ve killed to have. Jill had even done some modeling. With that figure came a modest chest. Angeline’s chest… was not so modest. If she wore a tank top in Jill’s size, I imagined the shirt’s structural integrity would indeed be stretched to indecent limits.

“Jill wears that tank top all the time and doesn’t get in trouble,” said Angeline defensively. “I figured there wouldn’t be a problem if I borrowed it.”

My head was starting to hurt. Still, I supposed this was better than the time Angeline had been caught making out with a guy in the boys’ bathroom. “Well. This is easily fixed. We can go—well, I can go since you’re stuck here—and get you some clothes in your size tonight.”

“Oh,” Angeline said, suddenly turning more upbeat, “you don’t have to. Eddie’s handling it.”

If not for Jill nodding along, I would’ve thought it was a joke. “Eddie? Eddie’s buying you clothes?”

Angeline sighed happily. “Isn’t that nice of him?”

Nice? No, but I understood why Eddie would do it. Getting decent clothes for Angeline was the last thing he probably wanted to do, but he would do it. Like me, he understood duty. And now I could guess why Eddie had canceled the experiments—and been vague about his reasons for doing so.

I immediately took out my cell phone and called him. He answered right away, like always. I was certain he was never more than three feet from his phone at all times. “Hello, Sydney. Glad you’re back.” He paused. “You are back, right?”