The Bride Wore Size 12 by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

and Perry . Lunch with the outrageously exclusive and expensive wedding planner is definitely canceled.
    “Sarah,” I say into the phone. “Take a deep breath. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it—”
    “I don’t understand it.” Sarah is babbling into the phone. “I just saw her at dinner last night. She was fine. We had falafel. We had freaking falafel together last night in the caf. How can she be dead?”
    I knit my brows. Sarah isn’t making any sense. “You ate dinner with Kaileigh’s roommate Ameera last night in the cafeteria?”
    “No!” Sarah cries with a sob. “Not Ameera! Ameera is fine, we checked on her, she’s fine, just hungover or something. I’m talking about Jasmine, the fourteenth-floor RA. You told me to look in on her, so when we knocked and she didn’t answer her door, we keyed into her room to make sure she was all right, because I could hear music playing. Why would she have left her music on if she wasn’t in the room? Well, she’s here, but she isn’t all right. She’s dead, Heather. She’s dead!”

5
    It is New York College policy that no registered student in need of emergency medical attention will be left unaccompanied. No student shall be left alone in a hospital emergency room.
    A representative of the school must be with any sick or injured student at all times until he or she has been admitted to the care of a physician in a licensed hospital.
    In the event of a student’s death, an administrator shall be with a deceased student at all times until his or her body has been released to the OCME (Office of the Chief Medical Examiner).
     
    —excerpted from the newly revised New York College Housing and Residence Life Handbook
     
     
    L isa insisted she come upstairs and sit with Jasmine’s body, but I had my doubts this was the wisest course of action.
    “You’re sick, Lise,” I say when I call downstairs to report my findings. Sarah is a mess when I arrive, and the RA on duty, Howard Chen, is nowhere to be seen. That’s because—I soon discover—he’s in the trash chute room down the hall, throwing up.
    Howard isn’t vomiting because of the sight that met him and Sarah in room 1416, though. Jasmine looks perfectly peaceful in her white tank top and green terry shorts, her tawny-colored hair fanned out prettily against the pillow beneath her head, her eyes closed. She could have been sleeping . . . except for the fact that she isn’t breathing, and her skin is as cold as ice.
    Howard’s apparently vomiting for the same reason as Lisa: the stomach flu really does seem to be making the rounds.
    I send Howard back to his room to recover, then send Sarah downstairs to the front desk to wait for the police before calling Lisa.
    “I don’t think you’re going to be any help up here,” I go on, trying to be as tactful as possible. “In fact, you may be more of a hindrance. I don’t think Jasmine was murdered, but you never know.”
    “Just say it, Heather,” Lisa says bitterly. “You don’t want me barfing all over the crime scene.”
    “Well, you said it, not me. What I think you should do is go home and get in bed. I’ll call the Housing Office and tell Dr. Jessup what’s happened. Although he’s probably going to want you to call Jasmine’s parents.”
    Lisa’s voice cracks. “Oh God, Heather.”
    “I know. But you knew Jasmine better than anyone, since she went through RA training with you. The news will be best coming from you. I know it’s going to suck, but . . .”
    Jasmine has framed photos by the side of her bed. She has her arms around a happy-looking older couple—no doubt Mom and Dad—and a panting golden retriever. They appear to be camping.
    I have to look away. I have no such photos of myself with my parents. We never had pets when I was growing up. My mom said it was too hard to take them on the road when I was touring.
    Then Mom left. So.
    “I understand. It’s just . . .” Lisa’s voice cracks again. “She was so