Free Private 04 - Confessions by Kate Brian

had stood just moments ago. "I had no idea," Dash replied. "I always knew those two hated each other, but I thought it was just sibling-rivalry hate. Not real I-want-you-dead hate."

    Dash sat down on the couch and hung his head in his hands. Our best hope to help Josh had
    just walked out the door and was probably already speeding south on Interstate 684.
    "What do we do now?" I said. Dash took a deep breath. "I have no idea."

KIND EAR

    I hadn't spoken to Josh in nine days, and that was including him shouting to me across a crowded police station. Was he okay? Was he scared? Were they allowing his parents and his brothers and sisters to see him? Was he thinking about me? These questions occupied most of my brain space that Saturday night while I sat in front of the television in the parlor. Around me other Billings Girls studied, chatted, and laughed. Only a few, since most were upstairs getting ready for Noelle's off-campus romp. At least I had put to bed the question of whether or not I was going. The dirty-hair ponytail, ripped plaid pajama pants, and a Penn State sweatshirt had to be dead giveaways of my mood.

    Part of me wished I could be up there with them. Wished I could be that carefree, thinking only about which shoes went with which dress and how to do my hair. I had just started to get into that stuff since meeting the Billings Girls and I missed it. I missed being able to enjoy those things. But I couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever again. "So, girls, which do you think is a better Christmas present for a new boyfriend with rock-star aspirations?" Cheyenne asked, bouncing into the room. She was wearing a red plaid skirt and a white ballet-neck top. Girl seemed to have an endless supply of season-appropriate outfits.
    "Backstage passes to the Fray and a meet-and-greet with the band, or three recording sessions in a state-of-the-art studio?"

    "Recording sessions, definitely," Natasha replied, not looking up from her political science book. "The Fray doesn't fully qualify as 'rock,' anyway." "Who the heck are the Fray?" Rose added. Cheyenne blinked. "Both good points," she said, whipping out her gold-plated cell phone. "Studio time it is." Unbelievable. Adam Robinson had had a birthday over the summer when we'd been dating, and I'd gotten him a Philadelphia Flyers hat. On sale. Cheyenne quickly finished her business on the phone and sat down next to me.
    She smoothed her blond hair behind her shoulder and smiled in a friendly way. "So, Reed.
    How are you doing?" she asked, lightly touching my shoulder before bringing her elbow up to rest on the back of the couch. "Have you heard anything from Josh?" Natasha glanced up, probably as surprised as I was. Nobody had asked me this question. Nobody had asked me anything about Josh's arrest or how it was affecting me. Until that very moment everyone, including Natasha, who was probably my best friend in Billings at this point, had chosen to take the don't-ask-don't-tell tack. I was touched that she'd thought to ask, but at the same time didn't remotely want to answer.

    "No," I said. "I guess he's not allowed to make phone calls, really." "You don't think he did it, do you?" she asked. "I know he didn't." "Good." She readjusted herself so that she was fully facing the TV and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. "The very idea that someone on this campus might have had something to do with it makes me wake up in a cold sweat some nights." I couldn't imagine Cheyenne sweating, let alone admitting to it.

    "Did you think that he did do it?" Natasha asked.

"No. I don't know," Cheyenne said. "I never knew either one of those guys very well, but Reed did. Does. Whatever. If she says he didn't do it, then I believe it."

She flashed her perfectly straight, whitening-stripped smile, and I felt inexplicably warm. In a good way.

"Now all we have to do is convince the rest of the world," I said.

"What I want to know is when they're going to figure it out," Cheyenne