Mrs. Weathers sighed. "Your cousin is having trouble with our dress code." That was a surprise. "But we have uniforms, ma'am."
"Of course," she said. "But not outside of classes."
That was true. I was in khaki dress pants and a green short-sleeved blouse, along with a small gold cross I always wore. I did a mental rundown of Angeline's wardrobe, trying to recall if I'd ever seen anything concerning about it. Probably the most appalling part was its quality.
Angeline had come from the Keepers, a mixed community of humans, Moroi, and dhampirs who lived in the Appalachian Mountains. Along with a lack of electricity and plumbing, the Keepers chose to make a lot of their clothing or at least wear it into threads.
"Friday night, I saw her wearing the most appallingly short jean shorts," continued Mrs.
Weathers with a shudder. "I immediately chastised her, and she told me they were the only way she could be comfortable in the heat outside. I gave her a warning and advised she find more appropriate attire. Saturday, she appeared in the same shorts and a tank top that was totally indecent. That was when I suspended her to the dorm for the rest of the weekend."
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said. Really, I had no idea what else to say. I'd spent the weekend caught up in the epic battle to save humanity, and now... jean shorts?
Mrs. Weathers grew hesitant. "I know... well, I know this isn't really anything you should be involved in. It's a parental matter. But, seeing as how you're so responsible and look out for the rest of your family..."
I sighed. "Yes, ma'am. I'll take care of it. Thank you for not taking more severe action against her."
I went upstairs, my small suitcase growing heavier with each step. When I reached the second floor, I stopped, unsure what to do. One more floor would take me to my room. This floor would take me to "Cousin Angeline." Reluctantly, I turned into the second floor hall, knowing the sooner this was dealt with, the better.
"Sydney!" Jill Mastrano opened the dorm room's door, her light green eyes shining with joy. "You're back."
"So it seems," I said, following her inside. Angeline was there as well, lounging on her bed with a textbook. I was pretty sure that was the first time I'd ever seen her study, but the house arrest probably limited her recreational options.
"What did the Alchemists want?" asked Jill. She sat cross-legged on her own bed and began absentmindedly playing with the strands of her curly, light brown hair.
I shrugged. "Paperwork. Boring stuff. Sounds like things were a little more exciting here." That was delivered with a pointed look at Angeline.
The dhampir girl jumped off her bed, face furious and blue eyes flashing. "It wasn't my fault! That Weathers woman was completely out of line!" she exclaimed, a slight southern drawl in her words.
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?"