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monster electronics. Varon spotted me and kicked the door closed with his foot. Totally rude.
    Were all those cases full of clothes? What did a model-turned-reality-show-star-turned-temporary-editor need with so many high-grade laptops and electronics equipment? Why would Secret Service agents be unpacking for Candace? If that was part of the security detail for the First Lady, why was it in Candace’s bedroom? And where had they put Parker’s things?
    My room, on the other hand, was exactly the way I’d left it.
    Or was it?
    Having had more roommates than most people have in a lifetime, I’d figured out ways to protect my privacy. A single hair draped across my laptop, pens aimed at some focal point, money hidden in smelly shoes. Only I hadn’t had time to set up my usual safeguards. Anyway, a strand of my neon pink locks would be too bright and noticeable lying on the black cover of my laptop—and I’d had that with me all day, so it was safe. Was I paranoid? A little. I’d had my share of privacy invasions.
    Still, something didn’t feel right. I had nothing anyone would want, but something was out of place. I scanned the room. On the desk was the homework packet from Dean Harding.
    I’d left it with the text facing the window; now it faced the door.
    My room had been searched.

 
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    TRICKS AND TIPS FOR THE EDGE-Y GIRL
    Nothing is as versatile as classic beauty. Flawless skin, a cat-eye sweep of black liner or shadow, and red lips …
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    7
    I banged on the door of Candace’s room. The talk on the other side went silent, and after a long moment, it opened. Varon stared back at me, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Miss Jackson?” he said.
    â€œI want to see Candace. Now.” I tried to peer around him, but somehow he managed to take up all the available space the doorway had to offer.
    â€œMs. Worthington is busy.”
    â€œI. Don’t. Care.”
    Suddenly Candace materialized behind him, towering head, neck, and shoulders over her proper PA. “What is it, Varon?” she asked. Catching sight of me, she wrinkled her brow—someone skipped a Botox session. “What do you want?”
    â€œSomeone was in my room,” I said.
    I thought I heard Varon huff. Candace definitely did. “I doubt—”
    I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to show them I meant business, and I wasn’t leaving until I was taken seriously.
    Candace stared at me but eventually Her Highness gave an impatient sigh. “No one searched your room. Why would we?”
    I fixed her with a stare. “I never said you did. And I don’t know why, all I know is that someone, not me, was in there. My homework packet was moved. The address on the envelope was pointing toward the window when I left. After I came back from the office, it was pointed in the opposite direction, toward the door.”
    â€œThe maid service—”
    â€œI was here when they were. My stuff was moved after.”
    Her face gave me no clue to what she was thinking. She tapped her fingers against her elbow; 1, 2, 3, 4.… “I’m sure with all the excitement, the First Lady’s upcoming visit, the Secret Service asking questions—”
    â€œIt’s true!”
    Her tone was even and sure. “No one was in your room. We know everything about you. Unless there’s something new…?”
    â€œNo.” My reply was a bit surly, but at least it wasn’t offensive. Yet.
    She nodded. “I thought so. Now, I don’t want to be bothered with nonsense like this again. I don’t have time for it.” She held up a broad palm when I opened my mouth to argue. “No one touched your things, Rebecca. Go back to your room.” She turned away. “Varon,” she called, and the door was slammed in my face.
    WTF just happened?!
    I felt like banging on the door again, but I was smart enough to know when