“On second thought, I’ll walk.” I gave Marcie’s door a shove, locking it back in position.
Marcie tried on a confused face. “Are you offended I called her fat? Because it’s true. What is it with you? I feel like everything I say has to be censored. First your dad, now this.
What happened to freedom of speech?”
For a split moment I thought it would be nice and convenient if I still had the Spider. Not only would I not be stranded without a ride, but I might get the pleasure of plowing Marcie over. The school parking lot was chaotic after school. Accidents happened.
Since I couldn’t bounce Marcie off my front fender, I did the Since I couldn’t bounce Marcie off my front fender, I did the next best thing. “If my dad owned the Toyota dealership, I think I’d be environmentally minded enough to ask for a hybrid.”
“Well, your dad doesn’t own the Toyota dealership.”
“That’s right. My dad’s dead.”
She raised one shoulder. “You said it, not me.”
“From now on, I think it’s better if we stay out of each other’s way.”
She examined her manicure. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“Just trying to be nice, and look where it got me,” she said under her breath.
“Nice? You called Vee fat.”
“I also offered you a ride.” She floored the gas, her tires spitting up road dust that wafted in my direction.
I hadn’t woken up this morning looking for another reason to hate Marcie Mill ar, but there you go.
Coldwater High had been erected in the late nineteenth century, and the construction was an eclectic mix of Gothic and Victorian that looked more cathedral than academic. The windows were narrow and arched, the glass leaded. The stone was multicolored, but mostly gray. In the summer, ivy crawled up the exterior and gave the school a certain New England charm.
In the winter, the ivy resembled long skeletal fingers choking the building.
I was half speed-walking, half jogging down the hall to chemistry when my cell phone rang in my pocket.
“Mom?” I answered, not slowing my pace. “Can I call you ba—”
“You’ll never guess who I ran into last night! Lynn Parnell. You remember the Parnells. Scott’s mom.”
I peeked at the clock on my cell. I’d been fortunate enough to hitch a ride to school with a complete stranger—a woman on her way to kickboxing at the gym—but I was still cutting it short.
Less than two minutes to the tardy bell. “Mom? School is about to start. Can I call you at lunch?”
“You and Scott were such good friends.”
She’d triggered a faint memory. “When we were five,” I said.
“Didn’t he always wet his pants?”
“I had drinks with Lynn last night. She just finalized her divorce, and she and Scott are moving back to Coldwater.”
“That’s great. I’ll call you—”
“I invited them over for dinner tonight.”
As I passed the principal’s office, the minute hand on the clock above her door ticked to the next notch. From where I stood, it looked caught between 7:59 and eight sharp. I aimed a threatening look at it that said Don’t you dare ring early.
“Tonight’s not good, Mom. Patch and I—”
“Don’t be silly!” Mom cut across me. “Scott is one of your oldest friends in the world. You knew him long before Patch.”
“Scott used to force me to eat roly-polies,” I said, my memory starting to come around.
“And you never forced him to play Barbies?”
“Totally different!”
“Tonight, seven o’clock,” Mom said in a voice that shut out all argument.
I hurried into chemistry with seconds to spare and slid onto a metal stool behind a black granite lab table on the front row.
Seating was two to a table, and I had my fingers crossed that I’d g e t paired with someone whose understanding of science surpassed my own, which, given my standard, wasn’t hard to beat. I tended to be more of a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic. Which put science and me at odds right from the start.
Marcie Mill ar strolled into the room wearing heels, jeans, and a silk top from Banana Republic that I had on my back-to-school wish list. By Labor Day, the shirt would be on the clearance rack and in my price range. I was in the process of mentally wiping the shirt off the list when Marcie settled onto the stool beside me.
“What’s up with your hair?” she said. “Ran out of mousse?
Patience?” A smile lifted one side of her mouth. “Or is it because you had to run four miles to get here on time?”
“What happened to staying out of each other’s way?” I gave a pointed look at her stool, then mine, communicating that twenty-four inches wasn’t staying out of the way.
“I need something from you.”
I exhaled silently, stabilizing my blood pressure. I should have known. “Here’s the thing, Marcie,” I said. “We both know this class is going to be insanely hard. Let me do you a favor and warn you that science is my worst subject. The only reason I’m doing summer school is because I heard chemistry is easier doing summer school is because I heard chemistry is easier this term. You don’t want me as a partner. This won’t be an easy A.”
“Do I look like I’m sitting beside you for the health of my GPA?” she said with an impatient flip of her wrist. “I need you for something else. Last week I got a job.” Marcie? A job?
She smirked, and I could only imagine she’d pulled my thoughts directly off my expression. “I file in the front office. One of my dad’s salesmen is married to the front office secretary.
Never hurts to have connections. Not that you’d know anything about it.”
I’d known Marcie’s dad was influential in Coldwater. In fact, he was such a large booster club donor, he had a say in every coaching position at the high school, but this was ridiculous.
“Once in a while, a file falls open and I can’t help but see things,” Marcie said.
Yeah, right.
“For example, I know you’re still not over your dad’s death.
You’ve been in counseling with the school psych. In fact, I know everything about everyone. Except Patch. Last week I noticed his file is empty. I want to know why. I want to know what he’s hiding.”
“Why do you care?”
“He was standing in my driveway last night, staring at my bedroom window.”
I blinked. “Patch was standing in your driveway?”
“Unless you know some other guy who drives a Jeep Commander, dresses in all black, and is superhot.” I frowned. “Did he say anything?”
“He saw me watching from the window and left. Should I be thinking about a restraining order? Is this typical behavior for him? I know he’s off, but just how off are we talking?” I ignored her, too absorbed with turning over this information.
Patch? At Marcie’s? It had to have been after he left my place.
After I said, “I love you,” and he bailed.
“No problem,” Marcie said, straightening up. “There are other ways to get information, like administration. I’m guessing they’d be all over an empty school file. I wasn’t going to say anything, but for my own safety …”