“Frances, calm down. Breathe, for crying out loud. We’re gonna have some burgers, talk about our science fair projects, and then Charlie will tell me how to nail Angel to the wall.”
“Sounds like fun.” Frances nods. “And I can do this. I can.”
“No choking this time.”
Frances steers the wagon through downtown to the Burger Barn. It’s literally a partially fixed-up barn with a flashing neon sign and a drive-thru window. On Saturdays the owner’s son has to dress up in an anorexic cow costume and shake his hoof at the passing cars. You know he’s gonna grow up to have some issues.
I wave at the guys as we walk in. Chelsea is already there, draped across her boyfriend. Ew. Like I needed to see this before I put down a totally awesome, greasy, drippy, overfried burger?
“Hey, dudes . . . er, guys . . . boys . . . Cash . . . Harlie . . .”
I nudge the sputtering Frances. “Hey.” I scoot into my seat and grab a menu.
Charlie shrugs off Chelsea’s arms. “So—bad day today?”
“Oh, it was horrible. First my flatiron wouldn’t heat up.” Chelsea flips her perfectly straightened gold locks. “Then I had to eat two percent milk on my cereal this morning instead of skim. I specifically asked my mother never to bring two percent into our house again. And then—”
“Actually I was talking to Katie.” Charlie pats Chelsea’s hand and turns to me.
I watch Chelsea consider having a meltdown. “Yeah, could’ve been better. More stuff was stolen in PE today.” I shut my grease-caked menu. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I think I do. I’m working on it.” His not now look has me changing the subject.
“So . . . Nash, are you excited about playing for the mission project campout?”
“Totally, dude. I am so there. Really excited about it. How ’bout you, Frances?”
I push her menu down so her face is visible.
“Yeah, very, very excited. Thank you very, very much for asking. It was a pleasure to answer your question, Nash.” And the menu pops back up.
I smile like my best friend isn’t totally insane. “Frances was telling me you have a new band member, Jessi White. I think I have a class with her.”
“Yeah, totally righteous bass player.”
Frances pipes up. “I’m sure she’s the righteous-est.”
I continue with my prodding. “Is she going to play next week on spring break?”
“Nah, she’s not really ready for that yet.” The waitress comes and Nash gives her his order.
“It’s cool to play the guitar. Is that your type of a girl? The rocker-chick Jessi type?”
Nash frowns at my question. “I dunno. I’m not really into types.”
I stare a hole through Charlie. Help me.
Charlie takes a drink of his Coke. “So are you interested in Jessi?”
Beside me Frances is humming the Chihuahua fight song and beating out the rhythm with her silverware.
Nash studies his fizzy drink. “I don’t like to mix business and my social life.”
What about self-proclaimed nerds and your social life? Do those mix?
Chelsea sighs and grabs her boyfriend’s hand. “I have an extra rehearsal tomorrow night.”
My face pinches in a frown. “We have an extra rehearsal?”
Chelsea’s glossy lips snarl. “No, Ugly Stepsister, I have a rehearsal.”
“You and who else?” I ask, my inner sensor on alert.
She picks up her napkin and twists it around her finger. “Trevor and I. We’re having some problems with a few scenes and want to clear it up before spring break.” She melts into Charlie. “You understand, don’t you? You know how important this play is to me.”
Charlie just smiles. “Yeah, sure.”
Conversation turns to the science fair, and all of us but Chelsea pull out some notes to swap and discuss.
“Your data looks good, Nash.”
I beam at Frances, proud of her for completing a sentence all by herself.
I squint my eyes to get a better look, but I would bet my strawberry shake Nash is blushing. Could it be? Is it possible Nash likes Frances? Or maybe he’s just a sucker for compliments on the scientific process.
The waitress brings our food—a heaping tray of burgers, fries, and shakes. And one lonely salad, dressing on the side.
“My fork is dirty.” Chelsea holds it up for the waitress’s inspection. The woman apologizes and removes the offensive utensil from Chelsea’s grip.
“Who wants to pray?” Nash asks.
I disconnect all eye contact and choose a spot on the far wall to stare at. Hmm, nice moose head. Didn’t know you could catch moose in In Between, Texas. Very pretty Christmas ornaments hanging on his antlers too. Especially lovely this time of March.
“I will.” Charlie bows his head. “Dear God, thank you for our friendships here. Thank you for our opportunity coming up to serve you in our own town. We pray you give us servants’ hearts and really open our eyes to what you need us to do and what you want to teach us.”
God, just teach me how to survive next week.
“Lord, we pray for our science fair projects, and that it goes well tomorrow, the big due date. Help us to do the best work we can. No disasters, no mishaps.”
Hey, what’s a two letter word for disaster and mishap? Me.
“We pray for Katie. Lord, she’s under attack at school, and we ask for your hand to be over her. Guide her and protect her. Give her the help she needs.”
Or just remove Angel Nelson from this planet.
“And we ask for total healing for Millie Scott, God. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”
The waitress appears at our table as our heads rise. “Here’s you a new fork, hon.”
“Keep it,” Chelsea hisses. “That one is bent. Is it really that hard to bring me a decent fork?” She looks at us and laughs. “I guess I should’ve brought one with me. I didn’t know it was gonna be this hard.”
“You can have mine.” With an apologetic face, Charlie thanks the waitress and takes the bent fork. Chelsea eats her salad with her Cruella DeVille smile.
An hour later I slurp the last of my shake. “I think we’ve got it all down.”
Frances picks at her mutilated, uneaten burger. “I think we’re ready for the science fair.”
“It’s gonna be great.” Charlie finishes off a piece of chocolate pie and shoves his plate aside.
Chelsea’s designer bag beeps. “Oops, that’s for me.” She pulls out her phone and reads it. “Gotta go.” She leans in and kisses Charlie on the cheek.
“Where are you going?” He stands up and helps her with her chair.
She smiles prettily and holds up her phone. “Emergency practice called for the play.”
I open my mouth.
“No.” She holds up a hand. “You don’t need to be there. Gotta go.”
“Call me later.” Charlie sits back down, his brow wrinkled in a frown as he watches her leave.
“I really should be going, too. I told James and Millie I would be home by seven-thirty.” I look at Frances, who is openly staring at Nash like he’s a triple banana split.
We all pay, then Charlie puts a hand on my arm to stop me from walking out. “Nash, walk Frances to her car. I need to talk to Katie.”
“Uh . . . yeah, sure.” Nash holds the door open for a petrified Frances.
“I’ve been thinking about this stealing business.” Charlie watches our friends walk out of the restaurant to the parking lot.
“I do believe you mentioned something about helping me.”
He smiles down at me. “Yeah, I believe I did.” He digs into his backpack and pulls out a small gadget. “Know how to work one of these?”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s a video recorder. Got it from my uncle who’s a P.I. in Dallas.”
“Keep talking.”
“Do you know anyone who could let you in the gym locke
r room before school starts to hide this baby?”
I shake my head. “Well, you know, Mrs. Whipple probably would’ve, but I borrowed her favorite apple vest last week and didn’t return it. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”
He laughs and puts the camera in my hands. And for a moment our fingers intertwine. I like Trevor, I like Trevor, I like Trevor.
“What about Mrs. Hall? She thinks a lot of you.”
I clutch this idea and hold it close. “She does?”
“Don’t you know that? Katie, you really gotta work on your self-confidence.”
“What, are you channeling Oprah?”
“Seriously, I think if you explained to Mrs. Hall about what’s going on, she would help you. We need someone with some keys to get you into the locker room so you could set the camera up.”
I hold the camera to my chest. “Thanks, Charlie. You didn’t have to do this.”
He places his hand on my shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”
I just stare at him and nod, Frances-style.
“I’m glad you’re going on the camping trip too.” Charlie drops his hand.
“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun? Yeah, probably. Life changing?” He holds open the door. “Most definitely.”
Chapter 32
Friday morning at six-thirty, Mrs. Hall and Charlie meet me up at the school. Mrs. Hall lets us in the building and into the girls’ locker room. I thank her for the millionth time.
“It’s no problem, Katie. You should’ve come to me sooner with this.”
Charlie turns a full circle among all the girl stuff. “Wow. I’m standing on sacred ground here. Do you know how many guys would pay to be able to say they’ve had an up-close-and-personal tour of the girls’ locker room?”
I snap my fingers in front of him. “Focus, would you? And quit looking for stray bras to stare at.”
Mrs. Hall’s bangles chime as she lifts her hand and yawns. “I cannot believe anyone has accused you of stealing. Preposterous! I know guilt when I see it. And I know a rotten liar when I see one. Hmph! I lived with one for—”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hall. I really appreciate it.” I open my locker and peer inside. The jacket wasn’t there at the end of the day yesterday, but I wouldn’t have put it past Angel to plant it in the middle of the night.
“Still no jacket, right?” Charlie pulls his camera out of the case. “Did you get Hannah’s locker combo?”
I pull a small piece of paper out of my pocket. “Got it.” After practically accusing me of theft, Hannah was more than happy to share her combination so we could plant the camera in her locker, which is directly in front of mine, giving us a bird’s eye view.
I recite the numbers for Charlie and the locker in front of mine snaps open. He sticks his hands inside, then stops. “Maybe you should set the camera up. I don’t want to . . . touch anything.”
Despite my fatigue, I laugh. “Such the gentleman.” I take the camera and with Charlie’s guidance, set it up just right in her locker. It’s so tiny, it’s not hard to hide it among some PE clothes.
Charlie nods. “Perfect. We have up to eleven hours of battery life in that thing, so if anything happens today, the camera will get it.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “If anything does happen.”
Mrs. Hall lays her arm across my shoulders. “Honey, you’ve done all you can do right now. If this doesn’t work then I’ll help you think of something else. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Anxiety gnaws at me the rest of the day. What if Angel doesn’t place the jacket in my locker? What if we have to do this every day for the next month until we catch her? What if we never catch her? It’s bad enough to be Party Ruiner Katie, but to add Kleptomaniac Katie to it is just more than I can bear.
Seventh hour descends on me like a two-ton weight. I take a deep breath of reality. I mean, seriously, what am I getting all worked up for? The odds we caught anything on tape are slim to none. This is probably gonna take weeks.
I walk into the gym, watching my reflection on the shiny wood floors. Funny, I don’t look like a big chicken.
But I am. I turn around and head back to the lobby to change in the bathroom. If Robin Martin’s jacket is in my locker and the camera missed it, I will have to deal with that all spring break. And I can’t. I just can’t.
Five minutes later I stand on the gym floor with the rest of my sisters in misery, ready to receive our torture sentence from Coach Nelson.
Tweeeeet! “Listen up, ladies. Today I have something new for us.”
My heart soars at the thought of some variety.
“Instead of doing fifty push-ups like we usually do on Fridays, today we’re gonna skip that.”
This is awesome news.
“No, not gonna do fifty push-ups. We’re gonna do thirty one-armed push-ups. Now go!”
My soaring heart sinks to the floor. It flops pitifully once or twice before giving up like a dying fish. Is she crazy? Whoever came up with the idea of PE should be tortured. Coach-Nelson style.
After we struggle through some push-ups, we run the rest of the class period.
I grab my backpack from the gym floor and drag my limp body into the shower. It’s everything I can do not to run to Hannah’s locker and grab the camcorder.
When I step out, clean and sweat-free, I meet the cold stare of Angel in the mirror. She combs through her short hair.
“You know the principal is gonna be checking your locker today.”
I wrap my hair in a towel. “So?” What if they find something? I feel disaster looming. It would so be my luck. “They didn’t find anything yesterday.”
I feel my blood pumping pure heat as she laughs. “Your stealing’s gonna catch up with you.”
I believe this moment calls for a classic line from a timeless and inspirational cheerleader movie. I step in her space. “Bring it on.”
I stomp past her and move toward Hannah. I try to waste time, hoping Angel will leave so I can sneak the camera out of Hannah’s locker. Ten minutes into Angel doing hamstring stretches in the middle of the floor, I know I can’t stall any longer. I won’t be leaving with the camera.
With my hand already punching buttons, I have Charlie on the phone before I hit the parking lot.
“It’s me. I couldn’t get the camera out. What do I do?”
“Let me take care of it.”
Call me crazy, but I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I like Trevor, I like Trevor, I like Trevor. “Um . . . yeah, sure.”
His voice vibrates in my ear. “I’ll see you at your house in an hour. We’ll see what we’ve got.”
“Okay.” I wave at James, waiting for me in his truck.
“And Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, all right? This plan could take some time.”
I nod like he can see me. “Right. Of course. I’m not expecting anything.” Who am I kidding? I’m expecting everything.
“How was your day, kiddo?” James’s smile takes up his whole face, as I climb in the truck. “Was your early morning rendezvous successful?”
I shrug and strap on my seatbelt. “I dunno. I’m not gonna worry about it.”
His eyebrow lifts, but he doesn’t pursue it. “Hey, Millie bought a wig today. You know, for when she starts chemo. She’ll want to show it off, so I wanted to warn you.”
Translation: don’t freak out.
“Millie’s gonna wear a wig?” That’s gonna kill my foster mom, who’s never without makeup, never a hair out of place.
His smile doesn’t falter. “Yeah, just part of the chemo. She’ll start that in a few weeks.”
“What’ll happen?”
“She’ll be fine. The doctor says she’ll just get a little run down and tired.” He smiles. “Maybe that means fewer soy bean casseroles.”
We pull into the drive and Rocky rounds the corner to greet us as James and I get out of the truck.
James
pets the mongrel on the head. “Whatcha doing outside, Rocky? You’re usually stationed in the kitchen when Millie’s fixing dinner.”
“Hey, there!” Millie stands in the doorway. “I hope you guys are going to be hungry later. We’re going to have a special meal for your last weekend home before the camping trip.”
I walk into Millie’s arms and give her a hug. Both her arms wrap around me. “Heard you got a new do today. I hope you went with something different, like a some dark J.Lo locks or maybe some Whoopi Goldberg dreds.”
“It looks just like my own hair. I asked for the Jessica Simpson style, but they were all out.”
The four of us move into the house and we follow Millie toward the kitchen.
“Um . . . Mil, what is that smell?” James frowns at the scent.
“Pizza.” Millie goes to the fridge and pulls out the tea pitcher.
I brave another sniff. “Pizza? Are you sure?” Maybe the cancer has affected her brain.
“Tofu bean sprout pizza. It’s gonna be so good for you.”
I cover a laugh and shoot James a quick look. “Wow, Millie, you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble. Ordering delivery would’ve been so much easier.”
“Nonsense. Do you know what’s in that stuff?”
No, but that’s what makes it so good.
Millie shakes her head and highlighted blonde curls bounce. “Preservatives and trans fats.”
“Mmmm. I love those.” I breathe through my mouth to avoid the stench.
My foster mom pours me a glass of tea. “Don’t be silly. We’re not eating a toxic diet anymore. So get used to it.”
I glare at James as I lift the glass to my mouth. “Blech!” I rake my sleeve over my face. “What is this?”
“Organic herbal green tea. James, would you like some?”
I smirk at my foster dad “Yes, he would. Hey, where’s the sugar, Millie?”
“No sugar.”
“Sweetener?”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Kills rats.”
“I’m totally fine with that.”
“And I threw all your diet sodas out.”
I set my tea down with a thud. “Do you know what you’ve done to—”
“Greetings!” Maxine bursts through the kitchen, wearing a full-length formal.
On the Loose (A Katie Parker Production) Page 25
