Free What's Your Status? by Katie Finn Page A

last-minute preparations?”
    “Not at all,” Kittson said, and her voice was cold to the point of being frosty. I looked at her, a little surprised. I’d never heard her use such a serious tone before. Not even when I’d suggested that our theme be Just Prom It . “We’re all prepared for Saturday, and have been for weeks. Overprepared, really.”
    Following Kittson’s lead, I nodded, wondering why she was blatantly lying to this girl I’d never seen before.

    “I don’t believe we’ve met,” the girl said, looking at me again and raising her eyebrows at Kittson.
    “What am I thinking?” Kittson asked with a bright and—I knew her well enough by now to realize—incredibly fake smile. “Madison, this is Isabel Ryan. Isabel, this is Madison MacDonald, one of my assistants on our committee.”
    “Hi,” I said, deciding to let the “assistant” thing go. Lately, I’d been thinking that the less credit I received for the prom, the better off I might be.
    “Isabel is head of the prom committee at Hartfield High,” Kittson continued, her tone still falsely cheerful.
    “Madison MacDonald?” Isabel asked, looking at me with new interest. “Really?”
    “Um, yeah,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
    “You too,” Isabel said, still looking at me closely. “Your reputation precedes you.”
    “It does?” I asked. I had never even heard of this girl, so I had no idea how she might have heard of me. A moment later, it hit me that it might have been the hacking. Had people as far away as Hartfield been aware of it?
    “Yes,” she said, still staring at me. Then her expression became less intense, and she smiled. “You’re in all the plays at Putnam, right?”
    “Oh,” I said, feeling relief flood through me. “Yes, I am.”
    “Shame about the review this morning,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
    “Wait,” I said. I tried not to be distracted by the fact that I could now see her enormous diamond studs thatlooked—as far as I could tell—real. “What did it say?”
    “So, what are you doing here, Isabel?” Kittson asked. “Not that it isn’t lovely to see you again.”
    Isabel took a piece of paper out of her binder. “The hotel’s inspection sheet. They’re such sticklers, aren’t they?”
    “What do you mean?” Kittson asked, looking down at Isabel’s paper—exactly the same as mine—and back up at her again.
    “Oh, didn’t you know?” Isabel asked. Even though I’d just met this girl, I could tell she was taking delight in this conversation. “We’re holding our prom here this Saturday.”
    Kittson was gaping at Isabel and didn’t appear to have the faculty of speech at the moment, so I stepped in. “I thought that your prom was going to be held in your school’s gym,” I said, and Kittson nodded mutely. I remembered all too well Kittson’s stakeout of the Hyatt. She had been concerned about Stanwich or Hartfield taking the Rosebud, so she had made it her—and, by extension, my—business to know where the other local proms were being held. Before Stanwich’s had been canceled, it was going to be at the Stanwich Yacht Club. And Hartfield’s had always been at the school.
    “It was,” Isabel said. “But you might have heard about the little stunt that Stanwich High pulled on Senior Prank Day.”
    “No,” I said quickly. “I’ve heard nothing at all.”
    “Well,” Isabel said, shooting me an odd look, “our school was broken into and our mascot costume wasstolen. And our headmistress thought that due to the security breach, we’d be better off at a public venue, where other precious Hartfield items wouldn’t be on display for those who wished to do them harm. So we settled on the Lily Ballroom.”
    “The one directly above this?” Kittson asked, apparently recovering the power of speech. “This Saturday?”
    “Yes,” Isabel said. “Which is why I’ve got to get this form filled out. You’re so lucky to have an assistant.”
    “Wait