24
Tuesday Night
We have assembled for an emergency meeting in the attic.
“Dad asked Ms. Rivera on a date,” reports Agnes from her seat on the magnet-strewn floor. She leaves the Just like I told you part unspoken, but we can still clearly hear it. “She said no.”
Mabey and I look at each other with alarm across the littered landscape of her room. This is all wrong—Dad should not be asking anybody on any dates! What is he thinking? He should be trying to work things out with Mom! He can’t start dating other people! He didn’t even discuss it with his daughters first!
At least he got shot down. I figured that’s what happened, but I’m grateful for the confirmation. Dad was in a bad mood earlier, when he and Agnes got home, and I took that as a good sign—no more “Walking on Sunshine.” Then he and Agnes played chess in near silence until the delivery guy showed up with our dinner, so we couldn’t get the story out of her until now.
“Were you there?” Mabey presses. “Did you hear their conversation?”
Agnes arranges her magnets in some unknowable order on the floor. “Part of it. He was waiting in the hall when class got out, and then they were talking in the classroom while everybody was leaving, but then Dad told me to use the restroom before we left.”
So you hung out in the hallway with your ear pressed to the door, right? That’s what I’d have done. But Agnes, who is not a Master Eavesdropper like me, actually went to the bathroom. SMH.
“What’d you hear, then?” Mabey asks, nervously twisting a lock of her hair. “How do you know she said no?”
There’s a chorus of clacking sounds as Agnes uses one magnet to attract the others. “’Cause after I came back, I heard her say she has a policy against dating parents. She said it’s too confusing for the kids.”
Mabey and I exchange another phew. Ms. Rivera’s dating policy for the win!
“We still need to fix him up,” I reminded them. “The new clothes are good, but Mom’s visiting soon, and he needs drastic personality changes.”
Agnes looks up at me. “Do you think she’s really going to come?”
Me? Yeah … I mean, right? “I do.”
“Of course she’s coming,” Mabey says irritably. “She’s been planning this for months. She’s just working on the final details.”
Agnes is silent.
“We could try calling her again,” I suggest. “Agnes, you could talk to her this time.”
Agnes goes back to her clacking. “That’s okay,” she mumbles at the floor.
Mabey makes a dismissive noise. “Fine. If you don’t believe Mom, then you can leave. Glad and I can plan without you.”
Agnes looks hurt as she gets up from the floor and collects her magnets. I hate when she and Mabey argue and I’m stuck in the middle. “No, stay…,” I say to Agnes, but she goes over to the hatch.
She pauses for a second before opening it. “I wish Ms. Rivera had said yes to Dad.”
I gasp. “Agnes!”
Mabey springs to her feet. “GET OUT!” she yells.
“Fine,” Agnes says in her prissiest voice. She opens the hatch. “I don’t want to be here anyway.”
Mabey’s face is a furious red. “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”
“GIRLS?” Dad yells from downstairs.
The three of us all yell back at the same time.
“NOTHING!”
“IT’S OKAY!”
“WE’RE FINE!”
No answer. Good. Agnes exits through the hatch and Mabey lets it close heavily behind her.
She throws herself back onto her bed, flinging one forearm over her eyes in a pose of dramatic suffering. “I can’t believe her,” she begins. “I told you we shouldn’t have told her anything. She’s so annoying—she’s just like Dad, she always has to have the last word…”
“Mmm,” I murmur supportively. “Uh-huh.”
Meanwhile, I’m weighing my options. Mabey needs me to stick around so she can vent about Agnes and Dad. Agnes is probably downstairs in her lab waiting for me to join her so she can complain about Mabey and Mom. Which side am I on?
“I have homework,” I say abruptly, getting up to go.
Mabey stops mid-sentence and looks right at me. I don’t want to meet her eyes.
“Mom is coming,” she says. “You do know that, right?”
The strain in her voice is painful to hear. If Mom bails, and Agnes says I told you so, Mabey’s going to fall apart. Mom has to come home to visit.
“I can’t wait to see her,” I say, and I disappear down the hatch.
25
Wednesday Morning
Dad doesn’t understand why nobody’s talking at breakfast.
Aside from our spoons hitting our bowls, some crunching, and Dad’s slurping, it’s dead silent at the table this morning. He’s reading his tablet as usual, but he keeps looking up at us curiously.
“Quiet today,” he notes.
Mabey gives Agnes a death stare, which Agnes ignores.
“Yep,” I agree.
Dad waits for Agnes or Mabey to comment. They don’t. He shrugs.
“You almost ready?” he asks me.
Dad’s driving me to school early today for a meeting of the decorating committee. I don’t have to wait for Izzy—she has softball practice this morning. She’ll wear her uniform to school, and she has clothes in her locker to change into after that. It’s convenient that our extracurricular activities are happening at the same time, but I’m sad we’re missing our morning routine. I like having Izzy come by and walk with me to the bus.
I rinse my dishes and put them in the dishwasher, run back upstairs to change my shirt, then meet up with Dad in the hall.
“Be right back,” he calls toward the kitchen. “Have a good day, Mabes Babes. Agnes, be ready in twenty minutes, okay?”
Nobody answers.
Dad and I leave, get in the car, and buckle up. “So what’s the deal with Agnes and Mabey?” he asks.
Well, Dad, they’re mad at each other because Mom said she’s coming to visit, and Agnes doesn’t believe her, but Mabey does, and I don’t know what to think anymore.
“I have no idea.”
“Huh.” He changes the subject. “How’s Sophie?”
Well, Dad, she’s about two days away from being busted for stealing money from school, and she plans to blame it on identity theft, which will make it ten times worse.
“She’s okay.”
“I like Izzy, too,” Dad says. “I’m happy to see you making more friends.”
I have no Well, Dad, for this one.
“Me too.”
We move on to other topics: the decorating committee (I tell him I only joined because Sophie asked me to), the dance (I tell him I haven’t decided whether to go), and who I might go to the dance with (I tell him it will be a cold day in Satan’s backyard when I go to a dance with a date).
“Okay,” he says, pulling up to the drop-off. “Have good day, BunBun.”
The student council office is closed when I get there, so I go upstairs and put my coat in my locker, play a game on my phone for a few minutes, and then come down the back stairs to see if anybody’s there yet. I hear voices coming from the office, and I see the back of Carolina’s head as she leans out into the hallway and looks toward the front door. I run up a few stairs and crouch on the landing before she looks in my direction.
“She’s not out there,” Carolina says to persons unseen. “But with her, you have to check. She’s always, like, lurking.” She reenters the office and shuts the door behind her.
I don’t have to hear a name to know she’s talking about me. I’m, like, lurking right now, creeping back down to the first floor and squatting with my ear against the wall. The sound is muffled, but I can still make out the words.
First I hear Desiree’s voice. “She’s so weird and creepy. The only reason people talk to her is because they need something.”
Hannah agrees. “It’s sad. It’s like, �
��What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you have any real friends?’”
Real friends—ha! Like Hannah’s a “real friend” to Carolina. I’d much rather sit alone at lunch than have “real friends” like Hannah, who writes nasty things about the others on the bathroom wall.
Sophie’s voice is next. “I know! It’s pathetic. She wants to be friends with me so much. She begged to join the decorating committee. I should have told her we didn’t need any more help, but … I don’t know. I feel sorry for her.”
There is giggling and awwing over how pitiful I am. I feel light-headed, like all my blood just left my body.
I’m such an idiot.
This is how much of an idiot I am: I thought Sophie really liked me. That’s how gullible I am. I thought she and I were becoming actual friends. I helped her out, she gossiped with me, we shared a moment in the resource room … we even met each other’s parents, for God’s sake! I joined the decorating committee for her!
Now I hear her tell the group that she feels sorry for me. Well, I’m done feeling sorry for her.
The rest of the conversation is drowned out by Rich Savoy, who’s laying out some logistics for Will Rasmussen as they come down the back stairs.
“Sophie will have the cash at the Friday lunch meeting,” Rich says. “So we can give the DJ a deposit this weekend, and we’ll divide the shopping…”
I quickly untie and retie my shoe so it doesn’t look like I’m crouched there by the bottom step like a goblin for no reason. Rich almost trips on me as they pass. “Oh, hey, Glad.”
“Hey.”
I straighten up and walk into the office behind Rich and Will. All the girls look at me and then at one another.
I say it loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the room, and even by anyone who might be crouching outside with their ear to the wall: “Hey, I came by to tell you I can’t be on the committee anymore. Good luck with the dance.”
I turn and walk out of the office, but I can’t move fast enough to avoid Carolina’s voice—“Um, that was weird.”
You know what’s even weirder? I think, taking the stairs two at a time in my haste to get away. You’re planning for a dance that’s not going to happen.
26
Wednesday Homeroom
An hour later, my head is still spinning from what I overheard.
I want to believe that Sophie didn’t mean the things she said about me. Part of me still believes she honestly likes me, and that she was just saying she doesn’t for her friends’ sake. But when I think about it (which I cannot stop doing), it seems pretty obvious that she was telling them the truth and I’ve been getting the lie. Sophie never paid any attention to me before she needed something; no doubt once she gets what she needs, she’ll go back to acting like I don’t exist.
Sophie’s betrayal isn’t the only thing that has me shook up. Ms. MacDonald is taking attendance, and I’m realizing that Jasmine isn’t here. She missed band yesterday, and it looks like she’s absent today. It’s a little worrisome. But this is probably just a coincidence, right? Jasmine’s not … missing or something, right?
I don’t feel good about this. I don’t feel good about anything.
I feel even worse when a teacher’s aide comes in with a note for Ms. MacDonald, who peers at it through her glasses and says, “Gladys, Ms. Schellestede needs to speak to you in her office.”
There’re the obligatory ooooooohs as I get up slowly to meet my tragic fate. Someone hums a funeral march; a few people laugh. Ha-ha, guys. This is legit terrifying. And people have literally died of fright—I once read about a seven-year-old boy who was so afraid of the dentist, he had a fatal heart attack in the chair. I drag my feet walking down the hall, thinking about following him to the grave.
Ms. Schellestede is waiting for me with her office door open. “Come in,” she says when I appear. She gestures to one of the chairs in front of her desk but warns me before I sit down, “You’ll want to shut the door behind you.”
Her door gives the most ominous creeeeeeeeeeeeeeak as it shuts. It’s like the rusty hinges of a dug-up coffin opening to release the undead. I bet she keeps it that way on purpose.
I sit down, and Schellestede fixes me with the Stare, but I’m ready for it. I have a strategy prepared. Look right at her nose, that’s what I’m going to do. Just keep my eyes on her nose, and everything will be OH CRAP SHE GOT ME I CAN’T LOOK AWAY. Dang it. The nose was too close to the eyes. Next time I’ll go for the forehead.
Her stare drills through my cranium. I don’t know what this is about, but I know it’s serious. Is it Jasmine? Is she okay? Should I say something? It must be Jasmine. Schellestede must know I gave her the excuses for missing band. That would explain why Gerber came up to me yesterday after school—Schellestede told him I was behind Jasmine’s alibis.
Or … could this be about Sophie? Maybe Schellestede knows about the money somehow. The student council bought the story about Sophie putting the cash in the bank, but Schellestede is way less gullible. I remind myself that I didn’t do anything wrong; I didn’t lay a finger on the missing money. I just gave Sophie a story to pass along. Still, I’m starting to sweat.
I wonder if I should rat on Sophie. I feel zero loyalty to her after overhearing her this morning, and maybe I’ll get a reduced sentence for giving her up. But what if this is about Jasmine? I don’t want to squeal on Sophie—or myself—if she’s not the reason I’m here. I don’t want to squeal on Jasmine, either, but if she’s in some kind of serious trouble, I need to let Schellestede know everything I know. Even though I don’t know much.
I’m pretty sure Schellestede can read my thoughts through my eyeballs. If not, she can read them by the panic on my face. The only thing I can do is keep my mouth shut until she tells me what this is about.
Finally, she speaks. “Gladys, I think you know why you’re here.”
Okay, so she can’t actually read my thoughts, or she would have read me trying to answer that exact question. “Honestly, I don’t.”
Finally, she ends my suspense. “Madison Graham tells me you’ve been helping people lie again.”
Madison. I don’t know whether to scream or laugh—I nearly told on myself over Jasmine and Sophie, but it was just Madison! Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to murder her. In fact, I’m going to murder her twice. The worst criminals get multiple life sentences—well, I’m issuing a multiple death sentence on Madison.
I fix my face into an expression of sincere innocence and say what I truly believe: “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The Schellestede Stare comes with an add-on pack: the Eyebrow. Just one, slightly raised. “Madison informed me differently. Apparently, you devised a scheme to pretend you were her boyfriend. And apparently, you’re doing the same kind of thing for other students.”
Well, I’m stunned. I can’t believe Madison told on herself just to get me in trouble. Who even does that? “I didn’t—”
Schellestede interrupts me. “You know, Glad, you’re very bright. Your grades don’t always reflect it, because you’re so busy meddling, but I see how smart you are. When Mr. Gerber told me the excuse that Jasmine Gutierrez used for missing band practice, I was impressed. Very sophisticated.”
She pauses to see how I react to her accusation. I fight with every muscle of my face to keep my expression neutral while screaming inside.
“Of course,” Schellestede continues, “there’s no proof that you were part of that lie, and Jasmine denied your involvement when Mr. Gerber spoke to her and her mother last night. She’s been suspended for two days. You’re lucky you’re not being suspended, too.”
“But…” I falter, terrified by the idea that I could be suspended. If I got suspended from school, Dad would suspend me from a tall building. “I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s not what Madison Graham said.” Schellestede deploys both eyebrows this time. “Gladys, I know you mean well. I know you think you’re helping people, but you’re not. Coming up
with lies for other people so they can avoid the consequences of their actions is not helping them.”
Mmm … I’m not so sure about that. I mean, people specifically ask me to assist them in avoiding consequences, and I do, and they’re happy about it. I keep people out of trouble—I’d call that helping them. But I’m not going to interrupt Ms. Schellestede to contradict her.
“You are on thin ice,” she says briskly. “I spoke to you about your behavior twice already, and now I’ve been forced to do it again. If there is a next time, I will call your parents and ask them to join us for this conversation. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes,” I whisper meekly.
Schellestede starts scribbling a late pass for my next class. “All right, then. You can go.”
I spring out of my chair like it’s an ejector seat. This time, the creeeeeak of her door sounds like a prison gate swinging open. And I flee.
27
Wednesday Evening
I am sitting at my desk in my room, crossing names off my list.
It’s around sunset, 6:26 p.m. by my clock, and it’s quiet in the house. Dad and Mabey aren’t home yet, and Baxter and Agnes are downstairs in the kitchen playing dominoes. I played with them for five minutes when I got home, but Agnes kept stopping the game so she could devise a formula to find the probability of picking a double domino from the pile (“If I already have one double, and there’s only seven total, then the variable is how many doubles you have, so we’ll call that V…”), while Baxter looked at me like, Please just stand these up in a row and knock them over like a normal child.
I already checked every app on my phone, watched several videos, and looked up the difference between a llama and an alpaca (llamas can get twice as big and have longer, “banana-shaped” ears). I even did homework for fifteen minutes. Now I need to get serious.
Here’s the problem: There is no way for me to get around Ms. Schellestede at school. I know this from working on Harry’s case and also from having functioning eyes and ears. I never want to see the inside of Schellestede’s office again, and I definitely don’t want her calling Dad, so …
Let Me Fix That for You Page 10
