I wouldn’t say that you were ruthless or right.
Chapter 6: The Seventh Stranger
Monday dawned stormy and cold. I dug Bobby’s coat out from his closet and he protested putting it on until he was standing in the open back door and a blast of wet, chilly air hit him. Mart zipped himself into his rain jacket to walk Bobby to the end of our drive and keep a close eye on Reddy at the same time.
Brian’s morning greeting as he wandered into the kitchen was uttered in a distracted way that told me he had something on his mind. Loyola, maybe? “You want a peanut butter sandwich for lunch,” I asked him, holding up a slice of bread. I figured I owed him one.
“Ah, no thanks,” he replied, flashing me a brief smile. “I think I’ll just buy my lunch today. I want to get to school and get some extra studying in before my Government quiz this morning.”
Of course he did, I thought with a smile of my own.
“But, uh, you have a sec?”
I glanced up at him, somewhat surprised. He sounded… uncertain? Embarrassed? Maybe he wanted some girl advice?
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, and when he trailed off, I was afraid I was going to have to ask him to remind me about what I said, because I was drawing a blank as I tried to figure out where he was going with this.
Thankfully, he continued without my prompting. “About letting you know if I thought of any reason, you know, that someone might not like me or try to get me in trouble or something?”
Oh! Right! That thing I said. “Something occurred to you?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“Yes. Maybe. Well, I mean, it might be something?”
“It being…?”
“So, um, I asked Loyola Kevins to Homecoming.”
Really, it was sweet how bashful he was about admitting to that, but sometimes it was hard to remember he was the big brother and had me and Mart by a good fifteen months. It often feels like we’re the older ones. I regarded him as patiently as I could, waiting for him to go on.
“And she said yes, but she mentioned that her ex-boyfriend had been bothering her lately and had even said something angry about how much time she and I have been spending together on our Physics project. Maybe he’s, I don’t know, out for revenge?”
I straightened. That actually sounded like a real possibility. “Who? Who’s her ex?”
“You may not know him. A guy named Lester Mundy.”
I felt my jaw drop. Lester Mundy? Loyola Kevins used to date Lester Mundy? And now she was going to go out with my brother? This did not fully compute. She went out with the King of the Goths and now she’d moved on to the King of the Nerds? I could not completely wrap my head around this information. “Uh, I don’t know him personally,” I said slowly, “but I do know who he is.”
Brian shrugged his way into his jacket and reached for his backpack. “Well, I don’t know if you can find out, you know, if he was the one to say I was near the storeroom when the books went missing, but…”
“But it’s worth checking out somehow,” I finished in agreement. “I’ll let you know tonight if I learn anything. Good luck on your quiz.”
“Thanks,” he said, this time his smile much wider. “I feel pretty good about it, but some last-minute review wouldn’t hurt.”
I shook my head as Brian let himself out the back door. I do all right in school. Not great, by any means, but only on rare occasions do I really find myself in trouble, generally in math. Mid-terms were almost upon us, though, and I’d let way too many things take up my time over studying like I should. Jim had offered to help me, and I really needed to take him up on that. My parents would hit the roof if I came home with any failing grades and that could actually put my Homecoming weekend in jeopardy. Promising myself to do better, I finished preparing my lunch, plowed through a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, and hurried to finish getting ready to leave.
I told Mart what Brian had said about Lester Mundy as he backed the wagon down the drive. Probably needless to say, but he seemed as dumbfounded by Loyola’s dating history as I was. The nasty weather prevented us from rolling down the windows on our way to school, but Mart still turned on the radio. Gavin Sorrells, the morning DJ, was cracking jokes about the latest Hollywood scandals and since neither of us cared about that, he spun the dial, scanning for another station.
“Hang on,” I said, digging into my backpack. I had just found one of my mix tapes when a new voice caught our attention with, “This just in. Breaking news.”
We glanced at each other and in silent agreement, waited to hear more before I popped my cassette in the deck.
“Police say the fire that took place at O’Neil’s Bookstore in downtown Bowdon late last night was an act of arson and they suspect robbery was also involved.”
“There was a fire at O’Neil’s?” I said, wide-eyed.
“And a theft, too, apparently.”
“Wow. Why? Who would burn down an old, used bookstore?” I wondered, my mind racing, recalling what Di had learned from Tad – that O’Neil’s was already on the cops’ radar for some reason. “Is there any way this has anything to do with our stolen books? This is crazy. We have a mad book thief running around town?”
“I’m sure the very idea has you in particular utterly confused,” Mart said dryly.
“Hey! I do like to read,” I retorted in protest. “Just not textbooks. They’re boring.”
“Sometimes,” Mart conceded. “But as far as whether these two things are connected, I don’t really see how, but then, the idea of two different book thieves on the loose does seem too farfetched to believe.”
We were still pondering the Strange Case of the Bowdon Book Burglar when we arrived on campus. As I walked down the hall, I shamelessly listened in on the conversations around me, but no one seemed as interested in the fire as I was. Mostly, talk was on the game last Friday, the game this Friday, mid-terms, and, of course, the general girl-guy chatter.
I did hear one thing that got my attention. A couple of sophomore girls were talking about the “cute new guy” in the “cool, black leather jacket.” So, Dan had some fans. I wondered if he knew.
In truth, I could see where some girls would swoon over Dan’s looks. And I know that whole “bad boy” thing holds a certain appeal, even if I don’t find it all that attractive myself. One of the things I like best about Jim is that despite his horrible past, he’s worked hard to put it all behind him and live a normal life. Well, as normal as being the adopted son of a multi-millionaire could be, anyway.
The object of my thoughts rounded a corner down the hall. He grinned at me as soon as he saw me and I felt that nervous but not at all unpleasant flutter I get any time he looks at me that way. We only had time to exchange a few words and then, with a quick hug and a promise to see me at lunch, he was off on his way again.
The morning dragged by. I’ve never been a big fan of Mondays. Or of school. So when you put those two things together, I’m especially not a happy camper. It felt like an entire week had passed before it was finally time to meet my brother and friends at the cafeteria.
Mart caught up with me as I was just about to open my locker. “Hey, strange news. Marv Easton isn’t here again today and get this. There’s a rumor that he’s run away.”
I stared at my brother. “For real?”
“That’s what some kids are saying. I don’t know. I mean, he didn’t always play by the rules, but I can’t see him running away.”
“So maybe he’s just sick or something and someone started a stupid rumor?” I suggested slowly.
Mart nodded to one of his track teammates as he passed us before looking back at me. “That’s always possible, of course. But another idea has occurred to me. What if something… bad happened to him?”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “What are you saying?”
“Well, what if he really did record someone stealing the books and they came after him?”
“And what… hurt him? Or worse? Over some books?”
“I know it seems nuts, but what if this and the robbery at O’Neil’s really is connected? Someone was willing to commit arson to cover their tracks, so who knows what else they’d do?”
Okay, yes. It seemed nuts. But then, everything about the missing books seemed nuts, so was this really any more nuts than any other theory we might concoct?
I huffed out a breath and shook my head. “I’m not really sure what to think at this point. I guess we could start with something easy, though. You have a quarter?”
“Huh? Yeah. Why?”
“C’mon, then.”
I led my brother across the campus to the administration building. It was still cold, overcast and dismal, but at least the rain had stopped, leaving scattered puddles on the pavement. There was a payphone just outside the main, double glass doors. Unfortunately, there was no attached phone book like I was hoping. “Okay,” I said with a frown. “Do you have two quarters?”
Mart silently handed me fifty cents. My first call was to Information. I asked for the phone number of the Eastons on Oak Hill Lane, watching my brother’s brows rise. “Hold, please,” said the strangely toneless voice on the line. A few moments later, she (He? I really couldn't tell.) was back to answer my request. I scribbled the number on the paper cover of my history book and hung up.
“How do you know where Marv Easton lives?” Mart demanded.
“He lives next door to where Julie Pike used to live. Remember her? We went to her birthday party in second grade, right before her family moved out-of-state?”
Mart was giving me an even odder look at this point. “Let me get this straight. You struggle to remember an Algebra formula the day after you studied it in class, but you don’t just remember some party we went to in second grade, and the street where it was at. You even remember the neighbors next door?”
Well… yeah. People are interesting. Math? Not. So much not.
“You’d remember, too, if you stopped to think about it,” I told him. “We were at the party and playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey when Marv and some other boy started lobbing water balloons at us from his tree fort. Remember? I think they were upset that Julie didn’t invite them.”
Mart blinked and then laughed ruefully. “All right, Sis. I do remember that. I mean, I’d totally forgotten about it until now, but yeah, I remember the water balloons.”
I put in my second call. I assumed the woman who answered the phone was Mrs. Easton. I adopted my most chipper, super-helpful-me voice and launched into a fib so big, Moms would’ve probably grounded me for life for uttering it. “Good morning, Ma’am. This is Lucy Johnson. I’m calling from school. I’m so sorry Marv is ill! I have some of his class assignments. Would it be all right for me to bring them by this afternoon so he can keep up as much as possible? You know we have mid-terms coming!”
There was an uncomfortably long pause and I am positive I heard a suppressed sob. “No – no. Um, thank you for offering, Lucy. B – but that won’t be necessary at this time.”
Before I could say anything else, she hung up.
I stared at the telephone receiver for a moment before slowly replacing it. “All right,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s official. Something’s definitely not right in Marv Easton World.”
“How so?”
I filled Mart in on Mrs. Easton’s brief and definitely anguished response. “So… maybe someone has come after him?” I concluded. I was about to say more when I saw Dan Mangan strolling through the quad. He glanced over his shoulder before turning onto the narrow walkway between the gym and the auditorium. “Now what is he up to? Ditching school?”
Mart shrugged. “Maybe?”
“When did he first get here? To Bowdon, I mean?”
“I think a few days before he started here?” Mart guessed. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t kidding when I said I did most of the talking his first day. And he pretty much doesn’t say anything in class now, unless a teacher calls on him.”
I took off at a brisk trot to follow Dan, with Mart uttering a half-hearted protest behind me that was something about “Why do we care?” and “We’re gonna miss lunch entirely.” I didn’t bother to respond.
I’m not sure if Dan was genuinely planning to skip out or not, but if so, I guess he didn’t count on a teacher and the vice principal standing near the flagpole keeping close watch. I hadn’t actually expected them to be there, either, so maybe students cutting class was a bigger problem at Bowdon Senior High than I ever knew?
Dan was leaning up against the wall, hands in pockets, head down. Since neither the teacher nor Mrs. Lee were confronting him about it, I assumed that it was all right for him – and by extension us – to be there as long as we didn’t try to go all the way off campus. I stalked right up to Dan and stopped only a few feet in front of him. “Hi,” I said, probably more loudly than needed. “How are you doing?”
It wasn’t too terribly surprising that his response was only a disbelieving stare.
“Are you settling in all right?” I asked, sounding I’m sure more like the proprietor of the Bluebonnet Bed and Breakfast downtown than your average high school junior. I figured that didn’t matter much. He already thought I was crazy or something. “I know it’s probably been hard for you. New school. New town.”
His eyes narrowed and for a second, the way his lips twisted up, I actually thought he was about to spit on me. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to step back. “Hard?” he growled. “What could be hard about moving to this stupid hick town with nothing to do and a bunch of pampered, spoiled rich kids who have no idea how easy they have it? What could be hard about going to Bowdon High with its dumb football obsession and snotty cliques?”
“It’s ‘BOH-don,’” I replied sharply, correcting his pronunciation. “As in, ‘here’s a pretty hair bow,’ not ‘BOWW-don’ like ‘take a bow.’” Really. Had no one actually said “Bowdon” to him in any context since he moved here or was he just deliberately saying it wrong?
All right. I really have no idea why this was the thing that had me all puffed up and on fire. You’d think I’d have been more upset by the insult to me and all my friends, but no. Pride in my hometown, I guess? I wasn’t finished, either. “For your information, this town was founded by Henry Bowdon almost – “
And now I was finished. I didn’t get any further than that because Mart literally elbowed me in the side to get me to stop talking. I thought at first he was hoping to prevent me and Dan from coming to physical blows, but then I realized he was trying to call my attention to the police cruiser that had just pulled up. Spider Webster and some cop I didn’t know climbed out and were met by Mrs. Lee.
I cannot overstate how badly I wanted to be close enough to hear whatever they were saying to each other. And the thing about having a twin is you always have someone who knows what you’re thinking, even if you don’t say it out loud. I knew Mart wanted to know what was happening every bit as much as I did, but we both also knew trying to eavesdrop on the police and a school administrator right out in the open was a no go. One, quick traded glance between us acknowledged our joint understanding and frustration.
I noticed Dan was watching the cops as closely as we were and if I’m not mistaken, he was worried. Possibly even afraid. Now, why would Dan Mangan be scared of the police? I wondered suspiciously.
Suddenly, everyone turned and started walking in our direction. “Time to go,” Mart declared, pulling on my arm. Dan seemed to agree, because he was right on our heels as we hurried back to the center quad.
“You think they’re here about the books?” I asked my brother, my head tilted slightly back to watch Dan’s reaction to my question.
“Probably,” Mart replied slowly. “Or maybe… something else.”
It was clear Mart did not want Dan to overhear anything important. For his part, Dan didn’t seem particularly interested in anything we had to say. He looked back twice at the four adults coming up behind us before he hurried off in the direction of the cafeteria. I checked my watch. Lunchtime was almost over, but if I booked it, I might still have a chance to have a few words with Lester Mundy.
I found Lester exactly where I expected him to be. For not the first time in the same hour, I was confronted with expressions that clearly asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” as I dropped down in the only available spot at his table. I’m sure, from an outside observer point-of-view, my presence at this particular table was very much, “One of these things is not like the others. One of these things, doesn’t belong.” Understandably so. For one thing, my hair is its natural color. For another, I do have pierced ears, but only hole in each lobe. Also? I wasn’t wearing any black, aside from my Converse sneakers.
Mart stopped a few feet away, waiting and watching. I’m glad he held back. I was reasonably sure I didn’t need a guard dog or back-up for this conversation. The Goth kids like to dress all big and bad, but really, they never cause any trouble. They just keep to themselves and listen to their music and act as if the rest of us don’t exist.
Also, I was banking on the idea that if Loyola had dated Lester, there had to be some redeeming qualities to his character, his apparent hassling of her now, notwithstanding.
“So… quick question,” I said cheerfully. “Any of you guys responsible for trying to frame my big brother?”
The way I see it, sometimes you just have to go with a straight-to-the-point, no-beating-around-the-bush approach. It doesn’t always work, obviously, but on occasion, it’s a good way to simply startle people into providing you with the information you want, even if they don’t actually want to impart it.
No one answered immediately. I stared each one of them down in turn, until Ruthie Kettner did an impressively dramatic eye-roll and flicked her hand in Mart’s direction. “Frame him for what? Being a dumb jock?”
So, two things. First, Mart is a jock, yes, but definitely not dumb. He might not be a Level Ten Nerd like Brian, but he maintains good grades and is always on the semester honor rolls. Second, although Mart was born approximately eleven minutes before I was and he’s quite a bit taller than I am, I have never really thought of him as my “big brother.” Guess it’s a twin thing. He had straightened at her words and I could see the way he was clenching his jaw, but he held back and remained silent.
Interestingly, I saw the way Lester’s eyes darted around the cafeteria as if he were looking for someone. Brian, perhaps? I was sure he knew exactly who I’d meant and, more importantly, that he understood why I was asking.
Unfortunately, the bell rang at that moment, and the typical chaos of everyone scrambling to get to their next class broke out. In under fifteen seconds, I was the only one left at the table. I opened my lunch bag and removed my sandwich. Technically, we aren’t supposed to eat in the hallways, but I was going to cram down as much of my lunch as I could.
“Life has gotten really weird lately, hasn’t it?” I asked Mart as I stood up. I saw Jim and Honey making their way toward us and I knew they wanted to know why we’d gone AWOL. I didn’t know how much I’d be able to explain in the short minutes before the next bell, especially since we weren’t all going in the same direction for our next classes. Probably, we needed another Powwow at Pappy’s.
Brian’s morning greeting as he wandered into the kitchen was uttered in a distracted way that told me he had something on his mind. Loyola, maybe? “You want a peanut butter sandwich for lunch,” I asked him, holding up a slice of bread. I figured I owed him one.
“Ah, no thanks,” he replied, flashing me a brief smile. “I think I’ll just buy my lunch today. I want to get to school and get some extra studying in before my Government quiz this morning.”
Of course he did, I thought with a smile of my own.
“But, uh, you have a sec?”
I glanced up at him, somewhat surprised. He sounded… uncertain? Embarrassed? Maybe he wanted some girl advice?
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, and when he trailed off, I was afraid I was going to have to ask him to remind me about what I said, because I was drawing a blank as I tried to figure out where he was going with this.
Thankfully, he continued without my prompting. “About letting you know if I thought of any reason, you know, that someone might not like me or try to get me in trouble or something?”
Oh! Right! That thing I said. “Something occurred to you?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“Yes. Maybe. Well, I mean, it might be something?”
“It being…?”
“So, um, I asked Loyola Kevins to Homecoming.”
Really, it was sweet how bashful he was about admitting to that, but sometimes it was hard to remember he was the big brother and had me and Mart by a good fifteen months. It often feels like we’re the older ones. I regarded him as patiently as I could, waiting for him to go on.
“And she said yes, but she mentioned that her ex-boyfriend had been bothering her lately and had even said something angry about how much time she and I have been spending together on our Physics project. Maybe he’s, I don’t know, out for revenge?”
I straightened. That actually sounded like a real possibility. “Who? Who’s her ex?”
“You may not know him. A guy named Lester Mundy.”
I felt my jaw drop. Lester Mundy? Loyola Kevins used to date Lester Mundy? And now she was going to go out with my brother? This did not fully compute. She went out with the King of the Goths and now she’d moved on to the King of the Nerds? I could not completely wrap my head around this information. “Uh, I don’t know him personally,” I said slowly, “but I do know who he is.”
Brian shrugged his way into his jacket and reached for his backpack. “Well, I don’t know if you can find out, you know, if he was the one to say I was near the storeroom when the books went missing, but…”
“But it’s worth checking out somehow,” I finished in agreement. “I’ll let you know tonight if I learn anything. Good luck on your quiz.”
“Thanks,” he said, this time his smile much wider. “I feel pretty good about it, but some last-minute review wouldn’t hurt.”
I shook my head as Brian let himself out the back door. I do all right in school. Not great, by any means, but only on rare occasions do I really find myself in trouble, generally in math. Mid-terms were almost upon us, though, and I’d let way too many things take up my time over studying like I should. Jim had offered to help me, and I really needed to take him up on that. My parents would hit the roof if I came home with any failing grades and that could actually put my Homecoming weekend in jeopardy. Promising myself to do better, I finished preparing my lunch, plowed through a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, and hurried to finish getting ready to leave.
I told Mart what Brian had said about Lester Mundy as he backed the wagon down the drive. Probably needless to say, but he seemed as dumbfounded by Loyola’s dating history as I was. The nasty weather prevented us from rolling down the windows on our way to school, but Mart still turned on the radio. Gavin Sorrells, the morning DJ, was cracking jokes about the latest Hollywood scandals and since neither of us cared about that, he spun the dial, scanning for another station.
“Hang on,” I said, digging into my backpack. I had just found one of my mix tapes when a new voice caught our attention with, “This just in. Breaking news.”
We glanced at each other and in silent agreement, waited to hear more before I popped my cassette in the deck.
“Police say the fire that took place at O’Neil’s Bookstore in downtown Bowdon late last night was an act of arson and they suspect robbery was also involved.”
“There was a fire at O’Neil’s?” I said, wide-eyed.
“And a theft, too, apparently.”
“Wow. Why? Who would burn down an old, used bookstore?” I wondered, my mind racing, recalling what Di had learned from Tad – that O’Neil’s was already on the cops’ radar for some reason. “Is there any way this has anything to do with our stolen books? This is crazy. We have a mad book thief running around town?”
“I’m sure the very idea has you in particular utterly confused,” Mart said dryly.
“Hey! I do like to read,” I retorted in protest. “Just not textbooks. They’re boring.”
“Sometimes,” Mart conceded. “But as far as whether these two things are connected, I don’t really see how, but then, the idea of two different book thieves on the loose does seem too farfetched to believe.”
We were still pondering the Strange Case of the Bowdon Book Burglar when we arrived on campus. As I walked down the hall, I shamelessly listened in on the conversations around me, but no one seemed as interested in the fire as I was. Mostly, talk was on the game last Friday, the game this Friday, mid-terms, and, of course, the general girl-guy chatter.
I did hear one thing that got my attention. A couple of sophomore girls were talking about the “cute new guy” in the “cool, black leather jacket.” So, Dan had some fans. I wondered if he knew.
In truth, I could see where some girls would swoon over Dan’s looks. And I know that whole “bad boy” thing holds a certain appeal, even if I don’t find it all that attractive myself. One of the things I like best about Jim is that despite his horrible past, he’s worked hard to put it all behind him and live a normal life. Well, as normal as being the adopted son of a multi-millionaire could be, anyway.
The object of my thoughts rounded a corner down the hall. He grinned at me as soon as he saw me and I felt that nervous but not at all unpleasant flutter I get any time he looks at me that way. We only had time to exchange a few words and then, with a quick hug and a promise to see me at lunch, he was off on his way again.
The morning dragged by. I’ve never been a big fan of Mondays. Or of school. So when you put those two things together, I’m especially not a happy camper. It felt like an entire week had passed before it was finally time to meet my brother and friends at the cafeteria.
Mart caught up with me as I was just about to open my locker. “Hey, strange news. Marv Easton isn’t here again today and get this. There’s a rumor that he’s run away.”
I stared at my brother. “For real?”
“That’s what some kids are saying. I don’t know. I mean, he didn’t always play by the rules, but I can’t see him running away.”
“So maybe he’s just sick or something and someone started a stupid rumor?” I suggested slowly.
Mart nodded to one of his track teammates as he passed us before looking back at me. “That’s always possible, of course. But another idea has occurred to me. What if something… bad happened to him?”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “What are you saying?”
“Well, what if he really did record someone stealing the books and they came after him?”
“And what… hurt him? Or worse? Over some books?”
“I know it seems nuts, but what if this and the robbery at O’Neil’s really is connected? Someone was willing to commit arson to cover their tracks, so who knows what else they’d do?”
Okay, yes. It seemed nuts. But then, everything about the missing books seemed nuts, so was this really any more nuts than any other theory we might concoct?
I huffed out a breath and shook my head. “I’m not really sure what to think at this point. I guess we could start with something easy, though. You have a quarter?”
“Huh? Yeah. Why?”
“C’mon, then.”
I led my brother across the campus to the administration building. It was still cold, overcast and dismal, but at least the rain had stopped, leaving scattered puddles on the pavement. There was a payphone just outside the main, double glass doors. Unfortunately, there was no attached phone book like I was hoping. “Okay,” I said with a frown. “Do you have two quarters?”
Mart silently handed me fifty cents. My first call was to Information. I asked for the phone number of the Eastons on Oak Hill Lane, watching my brother’s brows rise. “Hold, please,” said the strangely toneless voice on the line. A few moments later, she (He? I really couldn't tell.) was back to answer my request. I scribbled the number on the paper cover of my history book and hung up.
“How do you know where Marv Easton lives?” Mart demanded.
“He lives next door to where Julie Pike used to live. Remember her? We went to her birthday party in second grade, right before her family moved out-of-state?”
Mart was giving me an even odder look at this point. “Let me get this straight. You struggle to remember an Algebra formula the day after you studied it in class, but you don’t just remember some party we went to in second grade, and the street where it was at. You even remember the neighbors next door?”
Well… yeah. People are interesting. Math? Not. So much not.
“You’d remember, too, if you stopped to think about it,” I told him. “We were at the party and playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey when Marv and some other boy started lobbing water balloons at us from his tree fort. Remember? I think they were upset that Julie didn’t invite them.”
Mart blinked and then laughed ruefully. “All right, Sis. I do remember that. I mean, I’d totally forgotten about it until now, but yeah, I remember the water balloons.”
I put in my second call. I assumed the woman who answered the phone was Mrs. Easton. I adopted my most chipper, super-helpful-me voice and launched into a fib so big, Moms would’ve probably grounded me for life for uttering it. “Good morning, Ma’am. This is Lucy Johnson. I’m calling from school. I’m so sorry Marv is ill! I have some of his class assignments. Would it be all right for me to bring them by this afternoon so he can keep up as much as possible? You know we have mid-terms coming!”
There was an uncomfortably long pause and I am positive I heard a suppressed sob. “No – no. Um, thank you for offering, Lucy. B – but that won’t be necessary at this time.”
Before I could say anything else, she hung up.
I stared at the telephone receiver for a moment before slowly replacing it. “All right,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s official. Something’s definitely not right in Marv Easton World.”
“How so?”
I filled Mart in on Mrs. Easton’s brief and definitely anguished response. “So… maybe someone has come after him?” I concluded. I was about to say more when I saw Dan Mangan strolling through the quad. He glanced over his shoulder before turning onto the narrow walkway between the gym and the auditorium. “Now what is he up to? Ditching school?”
Mart shrugged. “Maybe?”
“When did he first get here? To Bowdon, I mean?”
“I think a few days before he started here?” Mart guessed. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t kidding when I said I did most of the talking his first day. And he pretty much doesn’t say anything in class now, unless a teacher calls on him.”
I took off at a brisk trot to follow Dan, with Mart uttering a half-hearted protest behind me that was something about “Why do we care?” and “We’re gonna miss lunch entirely.” I didn’t bother to respond.
I’m not sure if Dan was genuinely planning to skip out or not, but if so, I guess he didn’t count on a teacher and the vice principal standing near the flagpole keeping close watch. I hadn’t actually expected them to be there, either, so maybe students cutting class was a bigger problem at Bowdon Senior High than I ever knew?
Dan was leaning up against the wall, hands in pockets, head down. Since neither the teacher nor Mrs. Lee were confronting him about it, I assumed that it was all right for him – and by extension us – to be there as long as we didn’t try to go all the way off campus. I stalked right up to Dan and stopped only a few feet in front of him. “Hi,” I said, probably more loudly than needed. “How are you doing?”
It wasn’t too terribly surprising that his response was only a disbelieving stare.
“Are you settling in all right?” I asked, sounding I’m sure more like the proprietor of the Bluebonnet Bed and Breakfast downtown than your average high school junior. I figured that didn’t matter much. He already thought I was crazy or something. “I know it’s probably been hard for you. New school. New town.”
His eyes narrowed and for a second, the way his lips twisted up, I actually thought he was about to spit on me. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to step back. “Hard?” he growled. “What could be hard about moving to this stupid hick town with nothing to do and a bunch of pampered, spoiled rich kids who have no idea how easy they have it? What could be hard about going to Bowdon High with its dumb football obsession and snotty cliques?”
“It’s ‘BOH-don,’” I replied sharply, correcting his pronunciation. “As in, ‘here’s a pretty hair bow,’ not ‘BOWW-don’ like ‘take a bow.’” Really. Had no one actually said “Bowdon” to him in any context since he moved here or was he just deliberately saying it wrong?
All right. I really have no idea why this was the thing that had me all puffed up and on fire. You’d think I’d have been more upset by the insult to me and all my friends, but no. Pride in my hometown, I guess? I wasn’t finished, either. “For your information, this town was founded by Henry Bowdon almost – “
And now I was finished. I didn’t get any further than that because Mart literally elbowed me in the side to get me to stop talking. I thought at first he was hoping to prevent me and Dan from coming to physical blows, but then I realized he was trying to call my attention to the police cruiser that had just pulled up. Spider Webster and some cop I didn’t know climbed out and were met by Mrs. Lee.
I cannot overstate how badly I wanted to be close enough to hear whatever they were saying to each other. And the thing about having a twin is you always have someone who knows what you’re thinking, even if you don’t say it out loud. I knew Mart wanted to know what was happening every bit as much as I did, but we both also knew trying to eavesdrop on the police and a school administrator right out in the open was a no go. One, quick traded glance between us acknowledged our joint understanding and frustration.
I noticed Dan was watching the cops as closely as we were and if I’m not mistaken, he was worried. Possibly even afraid. Now, why would Dan Mangan be scared of the police? I wondered suspiciously.
Suddenly, everyone turned and started walking in our direction. “Time to go,” Mart declared, pulling on my arm. Dan seemed to agree, because he was right on our heels as we hurried back to the center quad.
“You think they’re here about the books?” I asked my brother, my head tilted slightly back to watch Dan’s reaction to my question.
“Probably,” Mart replied slowly. “Or maybe… something else.”
It was clear Mart did not want Dan to overhear anything important. For his part, Dan didn’t seem particularly interested in anything we had to say. He looked back twice at the four adults coming up behind us before he hurried off in the direction of the cafeteria. I checked my watch. Lunchtime was almost over, but if I booked it, I might still have a chance to have a few words with Lester Mundy.
I found Lester exactly where I expected him to be. For not the first time in the same hour, I was confronted with expressions that clearly asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” as I dropped down in the only available spot at his table. I’m sure, from an outside observer point-of-view, my presence at this particular table was very much, “One of these things is not like the others. One of these things, doesn’t belong.” Understandably so. For one thing, my hair is its natural color. For another, I do have pierced ears, but only hole in each lobe. Also? I wasn’t wearing any black, aside from my Converse sneakers.
Mart stopped a few feet away, waiting and watching. I’m glad he held back. I was reasonably sure I didn’t need a guard dog or back-up for this conversation. The Goth kids like to dress all big and bad, but really, they never cause any trouble. They just keep to themselves and listen to their music and act as if the rest of us don’t exist.
Also, I was banking on the idea that if Loyola had dated Lester, there had to be some redeeming qualities to his character, his apparent hassling of her now, notwithstanding.
“So… quick question,” I said cheerfully. “Any of you guys responsible for trying to frame my big brother?”
The way I see it, sometimes you just have to go with a straight-to-the-point, no-beating-around-the-bush approach. It doesn’t always work, obviously, but on occasion, it’s a good way to simply startle people into providing you with the information you want, even if they don’t actually want to impart it.
No one answered immediately. I stared each one of them down in turn, until Ruthie Kettner did an impressively dramatic eye-roll and flicked her hand in Mart’s direction. “Frame him for what? Being a dumb jock?”
So, two things. First, Mart is a jock, yes, but definitely not dumb. He might not be a Level Ten Nerd like Brian, but he maintains good grades and is always on the semester honor rolls. Second, although Mart was born approximately eleven minutes before I was and he’s quite a bit taller than I am, I have never really thought of him as my “big brother.” Guess it’s a twin thing. He had straightened at her words and I could see the way he was clenching his jaw, but he held back and remained silent.
Interestingly, I saw the way Lester’s eyes darted around the cafeteria as if he were looking for someone. Brian, perhaps? I was sure he knew exactly who I’d meant and, more importantly, that he understood why I was asking.
Unfortunately, the bell rang at that moment, and the typical chaos of everyone scrambling to get to their next class broke out. In under fifteen seconds, I was the only one left at the table. I opened my lunch bag and removed my sandwich. Technically, we aren’t supposed to eat in the hallways, but I was going to cram down as much of my lunch as I could.
“Life has gotten really weird lately, hasn’t it?” I asked Mart as I stood up. I saw Jim and Honey making their way toward us and I knew they wanted to know why we’d gone AWOL. I didn’t know how much I’d be able to explain in the short minutes before the next bell, especially since we weren’t all going in the same direction for our next classes. Probably, we needed another Powwow at Pappy’s.