by Gwenda Bond
Melody hadn’t said a word.
Clara blinked at her. “You didn’t tell me you were joining the Scoop.”
“She’s not,” Maddy put in.
I moved to the left, so I was closer to James. “Operation exit strategy.”
James chimed in. “I asked Melody for some input on what types of stories we should cover, what students really want to read. I take it we’re focus grouping now?”
“Oh,” Clara said, “I’d love to do that too. No one covers the school’s charity efforts. I can come now, if you want.”
“No!” Melody blurted. And when silence descended on everyone, she seemed to realize she’d practically shrieked it. She patted Clara’s shoulder, then stood up. “That’s an excellent idea. I’ll bring it up. But I wouldn’t dream of volunteering your lunch hour.” When Clara still looked offended, she added, “Not when Seth’s here.”
That effectively shut up Clara, but she didn’t blush. She smiled at Seth, who returned it. So much for her interest in Devin. Nicely played, Melody Simpson.
But it made sense. Melody’s act was carefully calibrated, which meant taking in everything around her at all times. I could not understand why she’d ever gotten mixed up with the very shady Ismenios Labs in the first place.
Melody pushed her chair in and attached herself to James’s side as we left in a group. “Were the theatrics necessary?” she asked me.
“I didn’t know any other way to get you to come peacefully,” I said.
“I told her you wouldn’t like it.” Maddy didn’t look over at us, but clearly she was listening to each and every syllable.
We headed toward the corner table where Maddy and I usually sat, sometimes joined by Devin. Or, other times, by Anavi, the girl we’d helped with a bullying problem, who I considered a friend now too. These days, though, Anavi was usually hanging out with her next-door neighbor friend Will. They’d buried the gaming hatchet, and from how much Anavi was talking soccer, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were hooking up soon. I scanned the crowd for her, and saw the two of them laughing together.
With Queen Melody in our midst, we earned some curious looks, but Melody didn’t turn back or protest again. Devin broke off to go retrieve a pizza for us since it was Wednesday, aka the only day you could put in delivery orders to come into the cafeteria. At our table, I steered Melody to the head, and sat down at her right side. James and Maddy took seats opposite me. Surprising me again, James didn’t claim the one beside Melody, but left it to Maddy. In fact, he pulled it out for her. What was going on there?
But my train of thought was interrupted by Melody.
“What is this?” she asked, steelier now.
“You’re not worried about being seen with us?” Maddy asked.
“James is here,” Melody said with a half-shrug.
But James didn’t look thrilled with that response. “Lois,” he said, “let’s get this over with. Come on, tell us. What did you find out?”
“Okay,” I said, “well.” I waved Devin toward us when I spotted him, waiting so I wouldn’t have to tell them twice. He slid a pizza box into the center of the table and then himself into a seat. None of us moved to eat. If this was a focus group, it was a deadly serious one.
“This is all going to sound crazy, so just be aware. But I have actual documents from Dabney Donovan’s relocated lab that confirms it all. Plus, I saw… things.” I managed to suppress a visible shudder, barely, remembering the double in the tank.
“Things, got it,” James said. He leaned farther across the table. “Tell us what they were.”
“Here’s the bottom-line all around: Melody’s blood and DNA sample were used to make some sort of serum. And the serum was used to, well, clone James’s dad, in order to solve a problem for Boss Moxie. Apparently Mayor Worthington was proving troublesome for the Boss. So Dabney Donovan creates the clone, and then the clone is used to set up James’s dad. Donovan needed a bankroll for his shady research, and Moxie was it.” I paused. That about covered it, in truth. “Who’s got questions?”
They were quiet for a moment, and I thought maybe I was going to get off easy. But then they started asking questions in a staccato, overlapping fashion. This must be what the mayor felt like at press conferences.
“A clone? But why?” James asked.
“My mom would kill to see Boss Moxie nailed to the wall. Evidence?” asked Devin.
Maddy said, “But why does Melody have side effects?”
And Melody, getting to the heart of it: “Is there a cure or am I stuck this way?”
At least no one questioned the basic facts. That was trust. I’d been prepared to lay out my case, divulge every detail in the files. I was touched.
So I took their questions in order, starting with James. “Okay. Why. From what I can tell, maybe just because Donovan showed up with a request for an investor. Moxie had a need and the solution Donovan came up with, to get his money and lab space, was a clone. It was just perverse enough for Moxie to love it. And it makes sense. The prints, the voice recordings, photos. All the physical evidence that could possibly be needed to make the case against your dad ironclad. Who would jump to this conclusion? It’s the perfect frame job set-up.”
“But still, I don’t get why,” James said. He sounded quiet, upset. “What kind of trouble was Dad being that Boss Moxie would go to all this effort?”
“That’s something I plan to ask your dad after school today. Don’t let him know to expect it. I want his real reaction. Sound good?”
“Fine by me.”
I shifted to face Devin. “Evidence. Well, not enough yet, but your mom would make a great ally. We should keep her in mind as we try to get more proof. It would be nice if Boss Moxie went down for this, and also safer for us.”
I hoped. Because what would the mob boss do if he was free and found out what we were up to?
“Deal,” Devin said.
I was in over my head. I knew it. I couldn’t let it stop me. But I had to be honest with these guys. Make sure they understood.
Next up was Maddy. “The side effects have to do with some sort of quantum connection between a part of the double’s brain and Melody’s. I don’t really understand it, something about empathy centers and spooky action at a vantage point, or that’s not it exactly—”
“Spooky action at a distance?” Melody cut in. “Quantum connection and spooky action at a distance are usually talked about at the atomic level, sometimes computers. You’re saying that’s what this is?” She paused and bit her lip. Then she went on, “It makes sense now. The spells, that’s only the times it’s worse. But the past couple of days, I feel those odd feelings, like part of me is here, experiencing my surroundings, but part of me is somewhere else, experiencing other things. I feel it… always. The connection. I try to wall it off, not feel it. But it’s there. It’s been there for the last two weeks. I only feel normal at night. Why?”
“To answer your first question,” I began carefully. Maddy’s mouth had dropped open. I guessed she wasn’t aware Melody was some kind of science whiz. “There is a cure, I think. The double is supposed to be taking meds every day—”
Melody interrupted again. “To control them. But he hasn’t been. Not for the last two weeks. But why wouldn’t I have felt something before now? And why am I okay at night?”
I’d been wondering about that too. And about how a man who looked just like the confined ex-mayor would be able to waltz around town with no one ever noticing, even to remark on the resemblance, except for the other day. Mayor Worthington wasn’t supposed to have a twin, after all.
“At night, he’s in this tank,” I said. “And he was ‘inactive’—whatever that means—for most of the last two years. Maybe it means he was in the tank the whole time? I think that they only brought him back to wakefulness so he could be used to impress upon James’s dad that
if he had any plans of trying to reverse the charges, he’d better not try. James, your dad is a threat. Which brings me to the two problems we have.”
“Only two?” Devin scoffed.
“Two biggest. One, the nature of the cure isn’t entirely clear—” Melody’s alarm was plain, so I went on, “—but it is clear there is one, and we’ll figure that out. Two, we’ll have to be cautious, really cautious. Which isn’t my strong suit. But…” I swallowed, and the double’s eyelids popped open in my memory. “There’s a chance he knows I was there.”
Melody sat back. “He? He who?”
“The double.” I flinched when I remembered crouching on the stairs. “And his master. There was a trigger that went off when I left, wiped my phone of everything—including all the photos I took in the lab.”
“Huh,” Devin said. “That’s an interesting idea. It would have to be pretty high-tech to be so specific.”
“Stop talking around the real issue.” Maddy banged her hand on the table. “I can’t believe you did this.”
I recoiled. “Maddy, I’m sorry, I—”
“Not you,” she said. “My sister. Melody, how could you have been so stupid? Gotten yourself mixed up in this? For what? A few hundred bucks? Why did you do this?”
Melody’s face went an interesting shade of red, blood flooding it. If I knew the sensation, and I did, she was consumed with anger. No one could push your buttons like a sibling.
“I needed the money for concert tickets,” Melody said finally. “For the Zombies Away, okay? Are you happy now? I know it was dumb.”
Maddy’s mouth opened and closed and then she said, “But you don’t even like them!”
Melody shoved her chair away from the table and jumped to her feet. Her hand trembled on the back of the chair, and I wondered if the double’s hand was trembling somewhere else. If he was tempted to push away a chair too. If his heart beat fast, his face flushed with anger.
“They’re my favorite band,” Melody said, “actually. But I knew how you’d react if I just asked to borrow the money. Just like you’re doing now. Like I was trying to take something of yours. I know you’d just quit liking them, for all I know change your entire personality again, and so I got the money another way. I didn’t want to risk making you lose something you loved, because of me. Not again.”
Then Melody stalked out of the cafeteria. For once, she gave no indication of caring what anyone thought. Which was good, because the tables around us were gleefully discussing and gaping at the scene.
We all just sat there, Maddy breathing hard. When I started to say something, to ask how she was, she held up her hand. “Don’t,” she said.
To lighten the mood, I said, “But that went so well. Don’t you think?”
The mood did not lighten.
CHAPTER 18
Lunch ended on such a disastrous note that I was almost looking forward to biology class afterward. Maybe I could uncover a little more science to understand this whole clone business. Or Melody could teach me later, since she would probably research—whatever she didn’t understand about spooky action at a distance already, she would soon enough, if I had my guess.
Turned out there was a lot going on beneath her perfect act. That was no surprise at all, actually.
I slipped into my seat at the back of the classroom, and my phone buzzed. Given everything going on, I’d logged in to chat after lunch. I wanted to share how things had gone and see what SmallvilleGuy thought of how I’d handled it.
SmallvilleGuy: How’d Melody take it?
Ms. Smits, our teacher, a career East Metropolis High employee who’d been at this for at least twenty years and thus knew every trick in every book, wasn’t paying attention yet. She was digging around in her desk. So I chanced tapping out a response.
SkepticGirl1: Not great. I made her come to our lunch table.
SmallvilleGuy: You had to do it somewhere.
True. And, as usual during our chats, I felt better already. A little.
SkepticGirl1: Any bright ideas about our boards problem yet?
SmallvilleGuy: Nope, but TI wants us to meet him in the game @ 10 tonight.
I frowned before I even knew why. But once I considered it, the diagnosis came fast.
SkepticGirl1: How much do you trust him?
There was no actual indication that TheInventor was a guy. The handle could just as easily belong to a girl. But there was something about the slight defensiveness in the private message he’d sent that read guy to me—and the odd presumptiveness in saying we would be a team. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly. A gut feeling.
The truth was we knew nothing about TheInventor. I didn’t, anyway. That bothered me.
SmallvilleGuy hadn’t responded yet.
SkepticGirl1: I trust you. I’m careful with anybody else. That’s all I’m saying.
I didn’t add: All I’m saying for now. But I thought it.
“Ahem,” Ms. Smits said, and I glanced up to confirm that… yep, I was busted.
Phones were allowed in school, but we weren’t supposed to use them except between classes and during lunch. Sheepishly, I stowed mine in my messenger bag, on the floor beside the desk.
I heard a buzz of reply from SmallvilleGuy and forced myself to keep staring straight at Ms. Smits. She was in a pale blue pantsuit, from a closet that had to be filled with so many variations on the theme that it would be the envy of any pantsuit fan.
“I know you’re all very excited about this momentous, long-awaited occasion,” she said.
When no one reacted, she added, “Time for our test on chapter five.”
The test was today?
I sighed. Out loud. Oops.
Today needed to get its act together and shape up. So did I.
“Everything all right, Ms. Lane?” she asked. “This has been on the schedule since last week. Bad timing for you?”
You could say that. I had completely forgotten about it—including the ever-important studying-for-it part. I had no illusions that this was the response to give her, however.
“Nope,” I said. “You’re such a good teacher, it’s in my DNA by now. Bring on the test.”
“Nice flattery. Let’s see you back it up,” was her response. She placed a test sheet on my desk.
We’d had a Hawthorne quiz in English, and I’d maybe managed a B at best. Being in over my head elsewhere meant that keeping the old GPA up was proving harder than normal this week. The last thing I wanted was something—like dipping grades—that Butler could bring up in our next tête-à-tête or that might give him justification for a meeting with my parents.
I handed in the test at the end of the period with a feeling that I might have passed, if not with flying colors. Ms. Smits was a great teacher, and the building blocks of the natural world weren’t dull. As soon as I hit the hallway, I whipped out my phone to read SmallvilleGuy’s response.
SmallvilleGuy: I would never put you at risk. We need his help. See you @ 10.
I sent back a quick reply.
SkepticGirl1: I’ll get there a few minutes early, so maybe we can talk first.
The rest of the afternoon proved quiet by comparison, and during last period study hall, I took the opportunity to stay off my phone, not stress about everything stressful, and catch up on homework instead of researching for my story. By near the end of the hour, my ability to sit tight and be good wore off.
And so I unearthed one of five pink authorized hall passes I’d borrowed from Ronda’s desk the second week I’d met with Principal Butler. She’d had to go back and see if he was ready for me, and they’d been sitting right on the corner, as tempting as a powdered sugar donut.
I threaded my way through the desks to the teacher’s, and waved the pass in front of the thin and pasty Mr. Fowler. “I need to take off a couple of minute
s early today,” I said. “An appointment after school.” That much was true.
He did not examine or collect the vaunted hall pass. Given his usual lack of commitment to a rigorous study hall (naps were not just okay by him, but almost encouraged), I’d assumed he wouldn’t and hadn’t bothered to fill it out. I only had a few of these, and needed to make them last.
Out in the hall, I hurried toward the last period class James and Maddy shared. This would allow me to check in with Maddy after the scene at lunch and pick up James for our trip to his house in one fell swoop.
“Ms. Lane, where are you off to in such a hurry?” came a familiarly smarmy voice.
My luck. Rotten, as usual.
“Principal Butler, hi—I have to meet my Scoop colleagues. We’re having an, um, extra-important staff meeting after school. I was done with my homework, so I asked for permission to leave study hall a little early.”
He was shark-like as ever, and he didn’t give any indication whether he was about to bust me or not. I shuddered at the thought of another date with detention. And Ronda would get blamed if he was the one who discovered my ill-gotten passes. I had no doubt of that.
“We’ve got, uh, good rapport now, don’t we?” I gritted out the words, but tried not to make them sound gritty. I forced a smile at him. “I was thinking of pitching Perry a piece about all the charity work the school does. What do you think?”
Pearly teeth emerged in a self-satisfied grin. “I’m glad you’re coming around to my way of thinking, Lois. I’d be happy to give you an interview on that. Better hurry if you’re going to be there when the class lets out. Tell James I hope his family liked the flowers.”
James can take the charity story. No way I’m interviewing Butler.
But I seized the opportunity to vamoose. The bell rang as I reached the end of the hall and the classroom door I was looking for. James was visible through the narrow window, seated near the front of the room. Maddy’s desk was beside his. Even though everyone else was starting to file out, he got up slowly and lingered by hers. He was waiting for her.
