“But I don’t want to wait until I’m sixteen. I want to do it now.”
“It’s forbidden.”
“Well, it wasn’t yesterday,” I point out. “Yesterday I was in on it.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“We were using you,” she replies bluntly. “We thought we had a shortcut to what we wanted. We didn’t.”
Although she claims responsibility, her tone places the blame for this current disaster squarely on my shoulders. Had I not gone off with the fake Bronwyn, had I not gotten snatched off the pier or gone joyriding in the Headless Prius, none of this would have happened. My cheeks grow hot.
Mrs. Smith sighs. “We tested you, Abigail,” she says, “as we test all our incoming students. And you have no inherent aptitude for this type of work. So it’s probably best if we just forget this whole episode and move on. You’ll have a very rewarding experience here at Smith and go on to do many great things with your life.” She stands. “And don’t worry about your mother. We have it well in hand.”
Is she insane? I’m supposed to just go back to life as it was before I discovered that a) this place is a secret breeding ground for spies, and b) my mother is one of them? No way. A girl can forget a lot of things, but that is asking too much.
“But I—”
“I’m afraid my decision is final.”
Before I can pitch a true hissy fit (I can do a pretty good one when motivated), there’s a knock at the door and Mr. Roberts appears.
“Can I see you for a moment?” he asks Mrs. Smith. “Oh hello, Abigail. How was the wedding?”
“It was nice, sir,” I say.
“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that,” he says. “Headmaster?”
“Now?” Mrs. Smith asks.
“Yes, now,” Mr. Roberts says. Boy, Mrs. Smith is not having the best night. She sighs but gets up and follows Mr. Roberts into the hallway, closing the door behind her, leaving me alone in her office. The way I see it, I have two options. I can press my ear to the door and eavesdrop, or I can snoop through the papers on Mrs. Smith’s desk. I choose the desk.
And this is where I find the same pencil sketch of the statue I saw the last time I snooped around on Mrs. Smith’s desk. What’s it still doing here? Does it mean something? It’s too random not to mean anything. It has to be a clue. As the office door starts to open, I stuff it in my pocket and slap a happy grin on my face. But my effort is wasted. Mrs. Smith looks so distracted I could be on fire and she wouldn’t notice me.
“So can I go now?” I ask. “It’s going to be lights-out soon.”
Mrs. Smith waves me away with a “Good evening, Miss Hunter,” and I slip out without a word. As I make my way down Main Hall and past the dining hall, I have the spark of an idea. As I pass the senior student lounge and the stairway down to the Stern Music Wing, the idea grows legs. Out the door and across the quad toward McKinsey House, the idea calcifies into a plan.
The reason Mrs. Smith and Jennifer worked so well together was because they knew each other better than anyone else. It was the basis of their communication, things no one else would understand. But this time Mrs. Smith couldn’t figure out what Jennifer meant by the clue I now have stuffed in my pocket. But I can. Despite everything I’ve been told over the last few days about my mother, I still know her better than anyone. I’m going to prove to Mrs. Smith, Veronica, and everyone else that I’m more than I appear. I’m going to show them that firing me was a terrible mistake. If something needs finding, I’m just the girl to do it.
Chapter 27
Where I Learn You Can’t Pull a Fast One on Your Friends.
BY THE TIME I CLIMB to the fourth floor of McKinsey House, I’m downright giddy with the idea of taking action. But when I see Charlotte and Izumi waiting for me in my room, my resolve falters. They look serious. They look like they’re prepared for an intervention. I pause. Charlotte sticks her head out into the hallway.
“We see you,” she says. I could run, but that would be obvious.
“Hi,” I say casually. “What’s up?” The bell rings for lights-out. The girls don’t budge.
“Why don’t you tell us?” Izumi asks. She sounds just like a mom. It’s terrifying.
“What do you mean?”
Izumi snorts. Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Come on, Abby,” she says. “You’ve been acting weird. Don’t deny it. You keep disappearing and you’re tired all the time and that going to California in the middle of the week and missing the Chinese History exam? Who does that?”
“Is it a boy? Are you sick?” Izumi asks.
“Or tutoring? Or did you, like, join the band and are too embarrassed to tell us?” Charlotte adds.
They warned me in no uncertain terms that everything Center-related was to be kept secret. I was not to tell anyone anything.
But you know what? They fired me.
“You guys are not going to believe this,” I say. They move closer, eyes wide with expectation. “But you’d better sit down.”
I start at the beginning with Lotus Man on the bus. They interrupt only to ask how tall Tom was and what color eyes he had and if I got his cell number. I finish with my idea about finding Jennifer. What follows is complete silence. I could hear the crickets if they weren’t all frozen for the winter. For the first time, my friends appear speechless.
Finally, Izumi asks, “Are you crazy? I mean, like, for-real crazy?”
“No.”
“Okay,” she says. “I had to ask.”
“I know,” I say.
“This is so. Messed. Up,” Charlotte says, her eyes blazing. “I knew Jennifer was cool, and not parent cool, you know? How awesome! And Veronica! I’m having a problem with Toby, though.”
“He does always knows things before anyone else,” Izumi says. “Can you sneak me down to the catacombs? I have got to see some of his toys.” She’s practically drooling.
“No,” I say, but hand her the iPhone as a consolation prize. “Don’t play Solitaire.”
“Why?”
“It blows up.”
“Glitchy?”
“You might say that.”
“So what do we do?” Charlotte asks.
“Do?”
“Yeah. You said you were going to find whatever Jennifer hid. How does that work?”
I pull the crumbled clue from my pocket and smooth it flat on my thigh. “By figuring out what this means,” I say.
“What is it?” Izumi says.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“So how does that help us?” asks Charlotte.
“Us?”
“Yeah, us.”
“No way,” I say.
“Yes way,” says Izumi.
“You can’t come with me. You’ll get busted.”
“So what?” Charlotte says.
“Listen,” Izumi says, “my dad just donated five million dollars for the new science center. They won’t kick me out.” Okay. Hard to argue with that one, but still.
“It’s too dangerous,” I say. For some reason this cracks them up. “I’m not kidding!”
“If you can do it, we can,” Charlotte declares.
How do I explain to them how scared I was when Rip Curl grabbed me? Or how I really thought it was over in that frozen lake? Or how it feels to be used and discarded? I can’t. This is something you have to learn for yourself.
“You’ll blame me when things turn ugly,” I say, “and they will turn ugly, no doubt.”
“We won’t,” Charlotte promises. “We swear. We’ll do a blood-sisters thing if you want.”
“That’s gross,” says Izumi. I eye my friends, a lump rising in my throat.
“You guys really want to come with me?”
“Yes,” Charlotte and Izumi say in unison. “So what’s the plan?�
��
Before I can explain I have a plan but no real idea about how to execute it, there’s a commotion outside my window. I rush to raise it only to find Toby, sweaty and out of breath, clinging to the window ledge like an amateur Spider-Man.
“What are you doing?” I shriek. “You could fall!” Charlotte and I each grab an arm and haul him over the edge. He tumbles to the floor in a haphazard heap and doesn’t move until Charlotte nudges him with her toe.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“No,” he groans. “That was not cool. I’m never doing that again.”
“Why’d you do it in the first place?” I ask.
“It’s after lights-out and I had to talk to you,” he says, untangling and sitting up.
“You could have texted,” Izumi suggests.
“Nope,” Toby says. “This had to be done face-to-face.” He clears his throat as if preparing to give a speech. He wipes his palms on his pants. “Okay. So I’m really sorry for the things I said about you to Quinn.”
“So you admit you said them?” Charlotte asks.
Toby looks sheepish. “Yes. But I didn’t mean any of it. You aren’t annoying, Abby. You’re not.”
“You called her an annoying Chihuahua,” Izumi reminds him. Toby glares at her.
“Thanks for that,” he mutters. “Abby, I’m sorry.”
“Great,” says Charlotte. “Thanks for coming. Good-bye, now. Please take the stairs.” She shoves him toward the door. Toby looks at me beseechingly. I look away. I’m not done being insulted yet. Charlotte and Izumi push him the rest of the way out the door. “You need to go. We’re busy. Places to go, people to find.”
“Wait,” says Toby. “What did you say?” He finally sees the iPhone in Izumi’s hands. His eyes dart to me. “Tell me you didn’t.”
I shrug. “Mrs. Smith fired me,” I say.
“Oh, Abby.” He looks upset. “And you think you’re just going to slide on out of here and find Jennifer Hunter?” I nod. “You aren’t a spy! You were never meant to be a spy!”
“No one knows Jennifer better than I do,” I retort, getting angry. “You think you do, with your stories and pictures, but you’re wrong. I can find whatever she’s hidden. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
“What we intend to do,” Charlotte corrects me.
“Right. We.”
Toby plants his feet like I’m going to sweep them out from under him (which I can do now) and crosses his arms. “No way.”
“Just try and stop us,” Izumi challenges.
“I’m coming with you,” he says flatly.
“You’re not invited,” Charlotte replies.
“If you go without me, I’ll go right to Mrs. Smith and you won’t get past Main Gate before you get busted.”
“Are you blackmailing us?” I ask.
“Sort of,” he says with a smile.
“Why?” Why does he want to join in on this? Our chances of complete failure are pretty high.
“Because blackmail works.”
“No, not that. Why do you want to come?”
Toby scans the room, clearly deciding if this is something he wants to say in front of all of us. He sighs. “If I want to go to the strategy school in Florida,” he says, “I have to show some real-world experience. I have to get out of here.”
“Real-world experience?” asks Izumi. “For an application to a school that’s supposed to teach you that? That’s totally twisted.”
“You’re only a Middle,” Charlotte points out. “Isn’t it a little soon?”
“Are you kidding me?” Toby asks. “Do you know how competitive it is out there? Some kids will do anything to get a leg up.”
“Like get busted and kicked out of Smith?” Izumi asks.
Toby glares. “It’s showing initiative. That’s application gold.”
I, for one, cannot believe we’re having this conversation. Ultimately, if I turn Toby down, we don’t get out of here. If I say yes, well, then we’re saddled with him.
“Fine,” I say. “Under one condition. And you have to be honest or we’re leaving you here.”
Toby stiffens. “Okay,” he says slowly.
“That Veronica creature I saw on the wall of Mrs. Smith’s office . . . Why did you do that to me?”
Toby raises both his hands in immediate defense. “It was just a new spyware thing I was trying to get to work. I call it Spy Eye and it’s pretty cool. You project an image into a room over preexisting security cameras and the image itself acts as a recording device, letting you see way more than you can with just the camera, like every-square-inch kind of thing. I could see you under the couch. I positioned the image for your eyes only. It’s better than hacking the actual security system, but the sound doesn’t work right, so you could hear me but I couldn’t hear you. It was nothing personal. I swear. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
This sounds like the truth. I decide to accept his apology and let him get thrown out of school along with the rest of us. “Go get your stuff and meet us by the west stone wall in fifteen minutes,” I say. “If you’re not there, we leave without you. And don’t get caught, okay? And watch out for Betty and Barney!”
But Toby is already gone.
Chapter 28
Escape from the Smith School for Children. Again.
AFTER TOBY LEAVES, WE SPLIT up, fill our backpacks with things we think we’ll need, and regroup in my room. “So what’s the plan?” Charlotte asks, adding my hairbrush to her bag.
“We figure out this clue,” I say, “and go from there.”
“What does it mean?”
“Well, it could be a lot of things—” I say.
“She has no idea,” interrupts Izumi.
“This was a short-lived adventure,” Charlotte says, throwing up her hands. “We don’t even have a step one.”
“Now, wait a minute,” says Izumi. “Let’s think this through. Abby knows Jennifer better than these other people do, right?”
“Yes.” That’s what I’ve been telling myself, anyway, but really, how well do I know her if she’s been living a double life right in front of me and I had no idea?
“So if you were her, where would you hide something important that you didn’t want found?”
That’s easy. “New York City,” I say. Every time we stepped outside our apartment, my mother would take a deep inhale of stinky exhaust-poisoned air and say, ‘No place to get lost like New York.’ Of course, New York City is four hundred and sixty-nine square miles in size with a population of eight and one-half million and I’m just going on a hunch.
“So that’s step one,” says Charlotte. “We go to New York City.”
“And by the time we get there, we’d better have figured out what that clue means,” Izumi adds. My stomach does an uncomfortable flip-flop. What am I getting us into?
Ten minutes later we slip out of McKinsey House undetected. There’s no need for us to go out a window because I have the code. We wait until Betty and Barney pass with the night security guard and sprint for the west stone wall, where Toby waits for us. He’s nervous, jumping from foot to foot and rubbing his cold hands.
“Turn off your cell phones,” he whispers.
“Why?”
He rolls his eyes. “Because if you don’t, they can follow us.”
I don’t ask who “they” are. I turn off my phone.
We board the same bus, but this time we make it to the Stamford train station without interference. We catch our train and settle in. We’re a strange little group, but the train is practically empty, so we go undetected.
We sit two across, facing each other, leaning in, heads together, and brainstorm ways to find my mother. At least, that’s what I thought would happen.
Here’s how it really goes:
“I’m hungry,” w
hines Toby.
“This train smells like pee,” Charlotte complains.
“Oh my God, I forgot my Chinese History book!” says Izumi.
“Can you guys stop whining?” I ask.
“Don’t be so bossy,” Charlotte says.
“I’m not being bossy!” I yell.
“We don’t use the word ‘bossy’ to describe girls anymore,” Izumi says. “It’s condescending. If a boy acts in the same way, he’s called a leader. And people are staring.”
“No, they’re not,” I say.
“Hey, Toby?” Charlotte says.
“Yeah?”
“Can’t you get Quinn to, like, stop following me around? It’s creepy.”
“You might as well ask me to go to Mars.”
“You’ll be able to go to Mars in probably twenty years,” says Izumi.
“Can you guys please focus?” I beg. “We’re going to be there soon, and we have no idea what the clue means.”
“Maybe Jennifer will just find us and we can ask her?” Charlotte says.
Toby shakes his head. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because no one knows we’re doing this.”
“I’m not sure that matters,” I say.
“Let’s just say I planted a few bits of evidence before I left that aren’t actually true.”
“You what?”
“Misled some people so we could get a head start.”
Izumi hums the Darth Vader theme from Star Wars. Toby punches her in the arm. We crack up, practically falling out of our seats. It’s not that funny. We’re just all tired and freaked out.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “Enough. We still have no idea where to begin looking.”
“I really don’t like Quinn,” says Charlotte.
“That’s obvious,” says Toby.
“He’s a little needy,” adds Izumi.
“Hey,” I say. “How about we direct some energy toward a problem that matters?”
“Jeez, what’s she so worked up over?” says Charlotte.
“Delusions of grandeur,” says Toby. “She thinks she’s a spy and we’re her minions. I’ve seen this happen before.”
Mrs. Smith's Spy School for Girls Page 14
