promised. She gave him one quick kiss and hurried off to Bay House.
“YO, LINDSAY WHORE-HAN,” PRESLEY yelled as soon as Devon entered Bay House. She stood at Devon’s door, wearing oversized purple pajama pants and a flowered pink bra, drawing a very explicit graphic representation of the male anatomy on the dry erase board. “Where you been? And more importantly, were you there with Graaaaant?”
Devon ran her hand across Presley’s drawing, wiping it out. She immediately took off her shoes and started clearing books off her bed.
“What’s up, Whore-den Caulfield?” Presley hung in her doorway, waiting. “Seriously, cough it up.”
Devon collapsed face-down on the covers. Presley took this as an invitation to settle in for a chat and plopped in the armchair. Devon couldn’t help but smile. “I saw him,” she started, “But, I don’t know, I just don’t want it to be like we have to hang out every night. Is that weird?”
Presley threw her legs over the arm of the chair. “I don’t get how you two are not like bunnies right now. He’s hot, you’re hot, these all equate to good sex whenever you want it. Kind of a no-brainer if you ask me. Do we have to have the birds and the bees talk?”
“No, I got that covered, thank-you-very-much.”
Presley frowned. “But, you’ve still got your V card? I thought you took care of that last year. Last summer at least.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t.” Devon rolled over in bed. “Nothing ever really seemed right, like, would I want to think about this person for the rest of my life as the person I gave my V card to? No one really fit the bill.”
“Until Graaaaant.”
Devon laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Well, if it matters, from what I’ve heard, he won’t disappoint.” Presley stood up.
“Wait, what do you mean?”
But Presley was already running down the hallway, laughing.
“Slut!” Devon yelled after her.
There was a tap on her shoulder. Devon whirled around.
“I assume you did not mean me,” Mrs. Sosa said with a smile.
“Sorry, no, that was for Presley.” Devon slunk back into bed. Mrs. Sosa hung in the doorway a minute longer.
“Maybe instead of me punishing you for using that language, you two come up with more, Como se dice, appropriate nicknames?”
“We can do that,” Devon replied. “Night.”
“Buenas noches,” Mrs. Sosa said and closed Devon’s door.
ONE HOUR AND THREE chapters of The Birth of America for her AP History homework later, Devon pulled open her sliding glass door. The campus was dark. The fog had rolled in, which meant the stars and moon couldn’t help light the way. Devon grabbed a small flashlight from her desk drawer.
Just as she stepped onto her outside patio, the payphone in the hallway rang.
Devon froze. Late night calls were rare, especially since the students weren’t allowed to be out of their rooms past curfew. Only family emergencies or secret boyfriends could justify the risk of getting caught on the phone in the dorm hallway. Plus, if it was a secret late night call, why not just call on a cell? Maybe it was a wrong number. Devon waited, listening for footsteps. The phone rang again. And again. Hurrying back through her room, she poked her head into the hallway. Maya, in a bathrobe and towel wrapped in a turban on her head opened the door to the phone booth. She said a few words that Devon couldn’t hear, then slammed the phone down and went back to her room in a huff.
The phone started ringing again.
Let Maya handle it. I’ve got a break-in to attend to.
GETTING THROUGH THE WINDOW was no problem.
As she hoisted herself up, a red light glowed in the distance. The day student parking lot again. Brake lights. The fog made everything blur together. Could it be the same BMW from before? The engine kicked into gear with a deep hum and peeled out, gravel churning.
Would the car wake up Nurse Reilly? If the light went on, Devon would have to abandon her mission. She sat there, halfway through the window, the word mission hanging in her brain. Only when Hutch was involved did she find herself taking on secret missions.
Ten seconds passed. Then another ten.
The night settled back into a constant cricket chirping. Nurse Reilly hadn’t stirred from her apartment.
Devon’s tennis shoes whispered softly as hopped down and padded to the filing cabinets. Nurse Reilly refused to update the school system to a computer database: “Cards have served this school since its founding.” The result was a room full of putty-colored metal