Eight, seven, six, five . . .
Yup, she could hear footsteps approaching. Very fast footsteps!
Three, two, one, and —
“I saw your text,” Elaine snapped, entering the room and zeroing in on Kit. “How dare you try to sabotage my tea?”
Kit played it as smooth as satin. “You suggested that I invite Lady Covington to tea, and I did. Where’s the sabotage, Elaine?”
“When you insisted on making it some kind of rodeo spectacle, I had no choice but to —” She cut herself off before admitting to any misconduct.
“Yes, Elaine?” Kit prompted. This was so much fun! Lady Covington was still sitting at the head table no more than ten feet away! She was listening to the whole conversation, and Elaine had stormed in so quickly that she hadn’t taken stock of Lady C’s proximity!
Lady Covington couldn’t allow the argument to escalate, however. “Elaine?” she called out pleasantly.
Kit enjoyed watching Elaine’s face go white as she recognized the voice.
“Nice of you to join us,” the headmistress continued. “Would you care for a”— she struggled to remember the word — “slipper?”
“Slider,” Kit said gently.
Lady Covington smiled at Kit, then gestured for Elaine to take the seat next to her. Kit took that to mean they were going to have a little heart-to-heart, so she turned her attention to her tea guests.
Elaine sat obediently in the seat next to the headmistress, who said to her, “I’ve been asking a lot of you lately — tutoring Katherine as well as all of your other responsibilities. But the reason I’ve asked so much of you is that you are a model Covington student.”
Elaine almost fainted with relief. The color rushed back into her face, and she beamed her most modest smile. “Thank you.”
“Even now, as we pretend to enjoy this abomination of a tea, can’t you see how much this girl needs your help?” Lady Covington tipped her head in the direction of the other guests. Kit was merrily moving from one to the next, interrupting every single one of them by piling more potato salad on their plates whether or not they asked for it.
Elaine tried not to show her revulsion. Kit’s improper behavior was a disgrace to Rose Cottage. The headmistress did not deserve to be burdened with such a distasteful display. Fortunately, Elaine knew better. “I won’t let you down,” she promised.
Lady Covington nodded. “I know.”
Elaine stood and picked up the pitcher of . . . Arnie Whoevers. She decided to make the rounds and show the headmistress how a proper English host served her guests at a proper English tea.
Josh was walking by the dining hall, minding his own business, when his nostrils were attacked by the most scrumptious smell. Not just beef in general, but that particular mixture of spices that meant someone in the dining hall had hamburgers. He hadn’t had a hamburger since coming to Covington!
His nose led him straight to Rudy at the grills. There he spied a sight that almost made him cry: a plate of sliders. He could even see globs of creamy red ketchup oozing out from between the buns along with hints of sweet green relish. “Sir, I’m offering you the opportunity to totally make my day,” he told Rudy, gazing at the sliders. “I smell home.”
With a shrug, Rudy handed him the plate. “Here. I’ve already had six.”
Josh took the plate. Yes! Ooooh, yes! And to make it even better, Anya was by the condiments table! He wandered over. “Is that your first burger?” he said by way of hello, indicating her plate. “Or is Friday burger night at the palace, you know, like —”
Anya shoved her burger into his mouth.
He thought she was just playing. He fumbled it out of his mouth and went on, “Is there, like, a dress code, like burger tuxedos or, like, royal ketchup or, you know —”
Anya glared at him. “Shhhhh! Secret, remember?” she whispered fiercely. “You promised! You swore on your life! I can’t have people finding out mmmbfff —!”
Josh had stuffed the burger back into her mouth. “What?” he asked innocently. “We’re just two kids eating burgers. I don’t know what you’re getting all wound up about.”
Looking reassured that her secret was safe, Anya grinned and bit into the slider. Josh bit into his, savoring the taste of home, and they proceeded to eat and chat about other foods they missed.
The tea was over.
Kit felt drained, as if she’d just pulled off a major world event. Hey, I did, she thought. This was a major event in my world! It so qualifies. She straightened up as Lady Covington approached, ready to take her leave.
“Well,” said the headmistress, “that was . . . interesting.”
Kit tried not to smile too hard. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“And I was impressed by how you handled Miss Whiltshire.”
Uh-oh, Kit thought. “I, uh, don’t know what you mean.”
Lady Covington’s eyebrows rose. “Working around her scheme must have been challenging. You handled it with surprising grace. Even while serving sss . . . slitheries . . .?”
“It’s sliders,” Kit reminded her. For about the seventh time. “But if you knew about it, why didn’t you punish us?” For some reason, Kit didn’t feel awkward asking that direct question. The whole tea drama had closed some of the distance between them. They weren’t buddies or anything, but Kit felt somehow closer to the headmistress. Something had been offered and accepted on both sides. That kind of sharing changed relationships. It was anybody’s guess how the change would show itself in the days to come, but Kit had faith it would be good.
“Sometimes one must let these things work themselves out,” Lady Covington said in answer to Kit’s question.
“Totes,” Kit agreed.
“Well, as much as I appreciate the experience of your version of our great English classic, I’m afraid I do prefer the traditional manner. How is next week? My office?”
Kit was busy comparing the two very different tea events in her mind. “Except this kind of tea is way more exciting,” she concluded. Then she realized what she’d said aloud. “Oh! I didn’t mean anything by that! Your teas are totally fun, too. I just didn’t realize it was going to be a regular thing.”
Lady Covington gave her a strange look, her eyes unusually warm, her smile softer. “Sometimes you remind me . . . of . . .” She almost laughed, then paused. “I’ll see you at tea. Good day, Katherine.”
Okay, that wasn’t weird at all, Kit thought, watching Lady Covington head to the stairway that would take her back to her office. She was finding out just what her mother meant when she’d say, “People are onions, Kit. Layers upon layers upon layers.”
Nav was pleased by how the day had gone. It hadn’t been much fun sweeping classrooms and wiping windows for three hours, but with all the Juniper boys pitching in, Will’s punishment chores for that day had been finished in record time.
And that wasn’t the end of the story. Acting like a leader, Nav rounded the Juniper boys together again and led them to Lady Covington’s office after tea. There was one last thing to do.
They stood before the headmistress’s desk, hands folded, trying to look contrite. “Although noble, and a criminal mastermind, he did not act alone,” Nav confessed on the group’s behalf.
Lady Covington accepted the news by saying, “Your punishments are in your mailboxes.”
Nav’s jaw dropped. “They are?” The boys glanced nervously at one another. “But how did you . . .?”
“All for one, was it not?” Lady Covington picked up her pen and began to write, no longer looking at them. “You’re excused,” she said.
Okay, that was just plain creepy. Nav and Josh exchanged big-eyed glances, and the boys all sort of shuffled backward toward the door, afraid of turning their backs on this woman who was somehow always aware of their every move. Was the school bugged? Did she hire spies? Nav doubted it. Her abilities could have only one logical source.
She was a Covington. Propriety — and its enforcement — were her
superpowers.
“Dad?” Kit called. Where on earth was he? She had been searching for ten minutes now, checking his quarters by the stables, the tack room, the back courtyard . . . “Dad!” she called again.
TK stuck his head out of his stall and whinnied.
“Where’d he go, boy?” Kit asked.
TK shook his head and grunted.
“Hmf. You’re no help.” She headed for the main building, wondering if maybe he’d gone to see Lady Covington.
Rudy was in the dining hall. It was empty at this time of the evening, so he had set the lights low. Only one other person was in there with him: Sally Warrington. She sat before one of two place settings that he’d arranged at the far corner of the teachers’ table. After finishing the last of the preparations, Rudy joined her there, placing two bowls next to the plates already there. The menu? Perfect grilled cheese sandwiches and two bowls of tomato soup. He had promised her a “nice meal.” Well, this was his definition of a nice meal!
“Thank you for inviting me to tea,” Sally said, examining the food with amused interest.
“I didn’t invite you to tea,” said Rudy, handing her a packet of oyster crackers. “I invited you to supper.”
Sally laughed, though whether it was because of his comment or because of the crackers, he wasn’t sure. “Tea is what we call this sort of casual evening meal,” she explained. “Supper is quite formal.”
“Tea in my world is that dark bitter liquid you people gulp down by the bucket.”
Sally laughed again. Rudy decided he liked the sound of it. “How dare you, sir!” she said jokingly. “You could be sent to the Tower of London for saying such a thing!” In a low whisper, she asked, “And do you know what used to happen to the prisoners there?”
He pretended to think about it. “They made them drink lots of tea?”
That drew more laughter, and it was contagious. Rudy found himself chuckling as Sally said, “Nothing as delicious as all that.”
Rudy relaxed with all the laughing and joking going on. It had been a long time since he’d laughed, really laughed. As for Sally, he figured she’d been born laughing. Her silly sense of humor suited her. He’d seen her behave in a formal manner with Lady Covington and various school benefactors, and he’d seen her strict side now and then when she’d dealt with unruly students, but she seemed most natural with a mischievous smile on her face and a giggle on her lips. His imagination conjured up an image of Sally with flowers in her hair, dancing with fairies in a classic English garden by moonlight — and then he mentally kicked himself for indulging in such a dumb idea. Holy cow, he really was acting like a teenager!
Kit was on her way to the headmistress’s office when she heard laughter from the dining room. Curious, she peeked in.
There sat her father, having dinner with Sally Warrington! And from what she could tell, they were eating Kit’s favorite meal, the meal her mother had always made on Friday nights for the three of them: grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup!
More laughter drifted from the couple. “How is it?” her dad asked Sally.
“It’s delicious, Mr. Bridges.”
“Do you think you could start calling me Rudy?”
Kit felt her heartbeat stutter. Was her dad . . .? Did he . . .? Was this the beginning of a . . . a romance?
She backed away. This couldn’t be real. Her dad would never betray her mom! With her thoughts whirling, she ran out of the building and into the cool of the evening. She didn’t even know where she was going. She just had to get out —“Oof!”
She’d run right into Nav. “Whoa!” he said. “Where’s the fire?”
Kit felt her eyes tear up. Nav was looking at her with real concern now, but she just said, “I’ve — I’ve got to go!” and wiped at her eyes.
Nav reached out a hand. “What’s going on?”
Kit ran.
The next morning at breakfast, Kit made it a point to sit at the table nearest the teachers’ table. She wasn’t hungry, so there wasn’t really any reason for her to be there. Still, she kept glancing over to where her dad and Miss Warrington had been only hours earlier. In some strange way, it felt like they were still there. She hated the feeling but couldn’t seem to shake it.
Anya joined her, setting down a plate filled with bright-yellow pineapple slices, plump red strawberries, a little pastry with a dollop of sparkling blueberry jam in the center, and a fluffy golden pain au chocolat.
Kit’s plate held two pieces of toast. No butter.
“That is one sad breakfast,” Anya noted.
Kit shrugged with one shoulder. “It doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s in a mood.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be eating pancakes with your dad this morning?”
The operative words being “supposed to,” Kit thought sourly. Before she could say anything out loud, though, Josh sat down with them. “Miss Warrington was seen walking across the grounds last night after dark with a man,” he reported.
Oh, terrific, Kit thought. It’s already gossip.
“No!” said Anya. “Was it Mr. Griffin? I saw Mr. Griffin whistling yesterday. Grouchy Griffin whistling!”
Kit wanted to hide under the table. “It wasn’t him,” she said.
As though she hadn’t spoken, Josh continued to Anya, “Dude, yesterday? Mr. Peters was wearing so much cologne, my nose hairs curled up!”
Anya playfully swatted his arm. “Peters looks like a goat! Miss Warrington wouldn’t! But”— she counted off on her fingers —“Minnie Minister told Jilly Jones, who also told Tara Wong that Mr. McCullough was buying flowers in the village.”
“Please,” Josh said. “He’s, like, eight hundred years old. If he bought flowers, they’d be for his own grave.”
“It was my dad!” Kit blurted out. “With Miss Warrington.”
“Aww,” said Anya. “So nothing scandalous, then.”
“Bummer,” Josh agreed.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Kit. “They were eating grilled cheeses and making goo-goo eyes at each other.” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice and failed.
Anya must have heard it, because she backed off. “Are you sure it was goo-goo eyes? Maybe they were making normal, respectful colleague eyes?”
“I know goo-goo when I see goo-goo,” Kit said. “He was laughing, and he looked happy. He’s probably even forgotten what today is.”
“Is it International Sad Breakfast Day?” Josh quipped in an attempt to cheer them up again. “I mean, what is that on your plate?”
“That’s exactly what I told her!” Anya laughed.
On any other day, Kit would have found the comment funny, too. But not today. “It’s my mom’s birthday.”
It was like she’d dropped a Serious Bomb. Anya and Josh went from sunny to solemn in a split second. “Oh,” said Anya. “Oh, Kit . . .”
Josh chimed in. “I’m sorry.”
Kit accepted their apologies with a nod. “My mom had this tradition where she’d always do something that scared her on her birthday. So Dad and I said we’d do the same. Maybe going on a date was his classy way of honoring that.” Yeah, and maybe pigs have wings. She suddenly felt sick. “I’ll see you later.” She had to get out of there — she needed air — she needed . . . something, something that didn’t exist anymore like . . . like maybe the family I used to have, she thought.
She made it out of the building before Anya caught up with her. Dear Anya gave up her own breakfast and walked her arm in arm back to Rose Cottage, trying to cheer her up the whole way. “So you just tell me what we need to do to make today better, and we’ll do it,” she concluded when they reached their dorm room.
“I might try to trot TK over some poles for the first time,” Kit said. “That should be completely terrifying. My mom would be thrilled. Want to come with?” She waited for Anya’s response. She didn’t get one — at least not the one she expected.
Anya stopped dead in the doorway. “Madhu!”
Kit peered into their room and saw a woman tidying Anya’s bed. At the sound of Anya’s voice, she turned, a pillow in her hands, and said with a bright smile, “Good morning, Your High — Anya!”
Kit felt renewed excitement. Maybe her own mother wasn’t with her anymore, but here was the next best thing! “Is that your mom?” she asked Anya. It had to be! The woman was wearing a white-and-yellow sari, and she stood with such grace and authority that she could only be a mother. No wonder Anya is so pretty, Kit thought. Her mom’s beautiful! She launched herself at the woman and gave her a big welcoming hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”
Mrs. Patel — as Kit immediately thought of her, since Anya was so proper that there’s no way she should expect to call her by her first name — gave Kit a gracious smile, though there was a hint of something else in her eyes . . . confusion? Kit figured that was possible. She probably hadn’t expected to get a hug from a complete stranger. But Mrs. Patel recovered and said, “Anya has told me all about you.”
Kit grinned at Anya. “That’s so nice!” Then to the woman she said, “But you, Mrs. Patel, are a bit of a mystery.” Back to Anya: “Why didn’t you tell me your mom was coming? I could have made my bed”— she used one foot to shove her pile of dirty laundry out of sight —“and picked up my clothes . . .” She expected Anya to laugh.
Instead, Anya seemed totally stressed out. “Uh, don’t we have a meeting? And I’m sure Elaine has scheduled something. No? Anything?” She sounded frantic.
Why is she trying to get rid of me? Kit thought. Then it hit her — during the last year, Kit had been mourning the loss of her mother. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have to introduce your mom to your friends. It could be nerve-racking. Anya’s probably wigging out, she realized, so she offered, “We have class.”
“Class!” Anya cried. “Yes, that’s right!”
The calm voice of Mrs. Patel brought everything back down to earth. “Would you mind giving me a few minutes with my . . . Anya?”
Competing for the Cup Page 7
