brows, listening to see if whoever’s on the other side of the door knocks again.
“Char? Are you in there?”
It’s Cal, and he sounds timid, unsure. “Can we talk about the car?”
I don’t answer. Nope, we are not talking about that right now. I do not want to have to come up with an excuse as to why Cal’s car looks spotlessly clean and tidy, instead of the dusty, bug-spattered mess it was before I took it to Mo. I have no doubt that he would see through any story I could come up with on the spot. It would be a stretch for him to guess the truth, but he’d be suspicious. That’s just what I need; another person wondering what I’m hiding.
“Char? Come on, I know you’re in there. Let me in so we can talk.”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. I am not letting my brother in here. At the very least, if he doesn’t know what happened, he can’t be implicated in it later. I’m protecting him as much as myself. Someday, if this all gets out, he’ll thank me. Probably.
He knocks again, but after a minute, the hall goes silent. Cal must have given up and left.
I should be relieved, so why do I feel so alone?
12
I am never getting used to this. It’s been a week since I announced to everyone at Brat Academy that Ricardo and I were dating, and people still stare at us as we walk down the halls hand in hand. Holding hands with him is a lot different from when Kenneth and I used to hold hands. Kenneth had freakishly small hands, so it always felt like I was holding hands with a sweaty little kid. Ricardo, on the other hand, has long, sinuous fingers and arms. Like I said, it’s different. Not that I’m enjoying it, or anything.
Ricardo loves the attention, and plays it up whenever we have an audience. He’ll put an arm around my shoulders or twirl my ponytail in his fingers, especially when his mom is around.
Adrienne is a huge fan of this development, and I catch her watching us with a big goofy smile on her face way too often. Mikhail seems to have more sense, because whenever he’s around I sense he’s keeping tabs on Ricardo, trying to gauge his angle. Having seen Mikhail in action, I’m glad. If Ricardo ever does something stupid—which, let’s face it, is more likely than not—I’m sure Mikhail will have my back.
There must not be a lot of teachers looking for work in the middle of January, because when I walked into calculus the second day of classes, Headmistress Morgan and Mrs. LaGuerre were standing at the front of the room, the latter with an uneasy smile on her face. She must have been in the right place at the right time, because the headmistress announced that she was installing Mrs. LaGuerre as our interim calculus teacher while she looks for a permanent replacement for Professor Rook.
Immediately the chatter started, but was quickly killed by a stern look from the headmistress.
I wonder how Ricardo will do in his mom’s class without me as a buffer.
At lunch, Ricardo is quiet, focused on his food.
“What, no witty remarks about how irresistible you are, today? Finally got a mirror, huh?”
Genevieve snorts into her drinking glass.
Ricardo shakes his head, putting down his fork and leveling me with an intense gaze. “You missed me that bad this morning?”
My mouth drops open. That is not why I was needling him just now. I admit that I noticed the fact that he wasn’t following me around like a puppy, but miss him? “Don’t make me laugh,” I say, doing my best Danny Zucko impression.
“No need to letter in track to get my attention, mon coeur. I had a visit from the police this morning, which is why I wasn’t in class.” He holds up a finger to stop me when I start to speak. “Everything is fine. They simply asked me if I had seen anything of note while I was in the surveillance room the past couple of weeks. I told them the truth: I haven’t seen anything they need to know.”
Adrienne’s face crinkles at his words. “Was it Cahill and Gupta? Were they nice to you?”
Ricardo smiles at her. “Yes, it was your fine detectives. They were perfectly professional. No harm done.”
I exhale loudly. “That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.” I owe him for this, but I haven’t the faintest idea