When I got back to my room with the Diet Cokes, Macie was finishing the Facebook message to Leslie. As I set the cans down on the desk, she looked up at me with a quick smirk, then back at the screen. A satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. Then she flipped a long strand of honey-blond hair over her shoulder.
“Straight-A Jillian, your proofreading skills are now required. Nothing is worse than a typo in a suicide note.”
“Totally.” Krista giggled. “That would...