Agnes
Maria looked like a deer in headlights as she glanced back and forth between me and Gertrude. She clutched her book so tightly to her chest that I thought she might snap the hard cover in half completely.
“W-What?” she finally blurted out, an unconvincing little smile touching her lips. She shook her head, causing a few strands of short brown hair to fall into her eyes. “Nothing’s going on. I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Gertrude and I exchanged glances, and I pursed my lips.
“You were crying in the design department the other week,” I said slowly, cautiously, as if I were speaking to a frightened child. “And then when I found that sketch on your desk—”
Maria’s face went pale. “I was crying because my boyfriend broke up with me. And as for the ske
