did not. Or a boyfriend when I did not. Or bad grades when I did not.
It was because she made me feel hopelessly …
Loserish.
And I was tired of being around someone who made me feel that way.
Then.
And.
Now.
“Come on, Cassie, lighten up!”
I grabbed a stapler and held it up menacingly.
“Get out!”
Drea’s eyes widened, and she backed out the door. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t bother me for the rest of my day.
* * *
Four hours later, the door creaked open and the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted inside.
“A peace offering!”
I didn’t know if I was still suffering from a post-mononucleosian calorie deficit or what. But I went straight to full drool at the inimitable scent of melted butter, caramelized sugar, warm dough, and—of course—cinnamon. I had to give her credit. Not only had Drea paid extra for the Pecanbon, but she had gone out of her way to present this thousand-calorie bomb on a real plate with a cloth napkin.
This wasn’t a peace offering at all. This was a weapon of warfare.
She set it down on my desk and stepped back with a flourish.
“Cinnabon appetit!”
I could tell by the way the icing dripped across the swirls and down the curves that the pastry was still warm. Drea was not fighting fair.
“If you think you can bribe me with Cinnabon, you are sorely mistaken,” I said.
Then I threw the whole thing—plate and all—into the same trash can I had hurled against the wall.
“Well,” Drea said, dropping her smile. “That’s a waste.”
“I’m done with this stupid treasure hunt.”
“But why?” Drea asked. “We’re getting close, I can feel it—”
“I don’t care! I only care about lying low and making as much money as I can before getting the hell out of here.”
I’d been stewing all morning. I wanted to quit so badly, but even in my outrage, I knew the money was too good to give up. Gia was paying me seven dollars an hour—a whopping $2.75 more than the minimum wage I would’ve gotten at America’s Best Cookie. The odds of me finding another job this late in the season that paid nearly as much were nonexistent. Bellarosa was my final pit stop in Pineville en route to my real life in New York City. And now that my family had fallen apart, I had even fewer reasons to look back once I got there.
“Please leave this office,” I said, trying to resume an air of professionalism. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Aren’t you even the least bit curious about the next clue?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not helping you anymore. I’m done.”
I resolved to do what I should’ve done from the start: Focus on the job and forget everything else.
No more treasure hunt.
No more Cabbage Patch.
No more Drea Bellarosa.
“Come on, Cassie,” Drea implored.
“I mean it!” I said. “I want those dolls out of here. They’re creepy.”
“They are not creepy,” she said, tickling Rey Ajedrez under the chin. “They’re cute.”
“I don’t like them staring at me from the couch like that,” I said. “With their arms out, begging for hugs.”
“Where should I put them, then?” Drea asked.
“They’re just dolls!” I shouted. “What are you, ten years old?”
Drea’s eyes narrowed. All I could see was mascara, liner, and more mascara.
“You want to be a bitch? You get rid of them!”
She walked away with the confidence of someone who knew I would do absolutely no such thing. There was no way I could toss Rey Ajedrez, Lustig Zeit, Pieds D’Abord, and the new baby into the trash. Maybe I was a bitch. But I wasn’t a monster. Emboldened by her success, Drea turned sharply at the exit to deliver her parting shot.
“Silva Mundi!”
The preemie’s name—the next clue—lodged itself deep in my brain. When Drea Bellarosa took aim, she did not miss.
15
THEM AND ME
I sat in the passenger side of the Volvo for the first time in forever. It was weird to see my mom’s face in profile. From this side view, her nose looked more beak-like than I had remembered. I wondered if mine looked similarly avian at that angle, then cautioned myself against stepping in front of Bellarosa’s three-way mirrors to find out. I’d been through too much trauma in the past few days. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
“Do you have enough room?” Kathy asked.
“I’m fine,” I grunted.
I knew she was going out of her way to be accommodating. But I simply wasn’t in the mood to make her feel better about her