Veronika turned around. Sophie was staring up at Kensington’s high ceilings, and Danielle was socializing with all the students near the main entrance. Veronika groaned.
“We are on a mission, you know,” she said.
“I do know!” exclaimed Danielle. “Here, watch!” She whipped out her phone and turned to one of the girls, a brunette with purple nail polish she’d apparently managed to hide from the teachers all day. “What is your name?”
The girl frowned. “Are you texting someone?”
“I’m taking notes on this interview,” replied Danielle.
The girl’s eyes widened. “I did not agree to an interview—“
“This is not a democracy!” exclaimed Danielle. “What’s your name?”