Read Online Murder Had a Little Lamb by Cynthia Baxter - Free Book Online

carriage, Vondra’s skin was the color of freshly brewed espresso.
    But her ethnic background was only one reason she’d stood out. At least as noticeable was the different way she dressed. Everything she wore was white: her flowing skirt, her cotton blouse, even the thick white headband that helped hold her smoothed-back hair in place. The only color in her outfit was in the row of bracelets running up one arm. They were made of tiny green and black beads—not exactly the kind of thing any of the other girls were wearing.
    As I smiled at her, I could feel my cheeks burning. Ihadn’t realized that anyone had witnessed me being the target of Campbell’s mastery of the veiled insult.
    “You’re Vondra, right?” I said cheerfully, trying to cover up my embarrassment.
    “That’s right,” she said, looking pleased that I remembered her name.
    After a couple of moments of silence, I asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”
    “I just wanted to tell you not to mind them,” she said quietly.
    “Excuse me?” I said, caught completely off guard by her remark.
    “Those obnoxious girls, like Campbell and Beanie,” she said. Now that she was speaking more loudly, I could hear that her voice was tinged with bitterness. “They’re so full of themselves, even though the only thing they’ve ever accomplished in their entire lives is having the luck to be born into ridiculously wealthy families.”
    With an angry little laugh, Vondra continued, “And it’s not as if they’re that great. Campbell, especially. She’s so flaky that I’m not surprised she’s bounced around from one school to another. But ever since she showed up here at Worth a few months ago, it was clear that she didn’t care one bit about getting through high school—or doing anything well, for that matter. I’m sure she’s got a nice trust fund somewhere with her name on it.”
    I was still trying to come up with a diplomatic way to address her comments when she added, “Not me. I’m here on scholarship. And believe me, it’s something girls like that never let me forget. You’d thinkhaving parents who aren’t multigazillionaires was a federal offense.”
    “I guess it can be tough, being at a school with such a diverse group of students,” I commented.
    “For everyone,” she said, nodding, “including the teachers. Right now, they’re testing you. But don’t worry. You did just fine.”
    With that, she turned and walked out of the room. As I watched her leave, it occurred to me that while the school’s website had made the student body sound like one big happy family, the dynamics here at Worth seemed to be a lot more complicated.
    •   •   •
    It wasn’t until a few minutes later, as I stood in front of the faculty mailboxes, that I realized how exhausted I was. I had just let out a loud sigh when I heard a footstep that told me someone had come up behind me.
    “Rough day?” asked a friendly voice.
    I turned and saw that the person who’d spoken was a trim middle-aged man who wasn’t much taller than I was. He was nice-looking, with hazel eyes that smiled at me from behind a pair of glasses and a fringe of gray hair circling an otherwise bald head. Even though he was dressed casually in a sports jacket and khaki-colored pants, he had an exceptionally neat, well-groomed appearance.
    “I guess first days are always rough,” I replied.
    “My experience exactly,” he agreed. “Fortunately, the second day is always much easier. Most of the onesthat follow, too.” He extended his hand. “Richard Evans.”
    “I’m Jessica Popper,” I told him as we shook hands.
    “Oh, I know exactly who you are,” he assured me with twinkling eyes. “The Worth School is like a small town. No matter how discreet anyone tries to be, everybody ends up knowing everybody else’s business.”
    I wondered if that was true even in Nathaniel Stibbins’s case.
    “Since I’m still new, I’m afraid I haven’t learned enough