Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula (22 page)

He pulled me to my feet. “We need to move.”

I nodded, dazed. “Sorry I didn’t help you down.”

“I didn’t need help.” He put his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the sidewalk.

“Thanks for fixing the curtain,” I said, and then slapped my hand to my forehead. “Oh, no! I left the closet door open.”

“I closed it,” Emery said, wheeling me left onto the sidewalk.

I mentally went through the house. “The front door. The chain.”

“Taken care of.”

“Your lock picks.”

“In my backpack.”

“The chair. It was pushed under the desk.”

“Check.” He paused. “A piece of advice, Cassidy.”

I glanced up at him. His face sported a grin. “What?”

The grin grew. “Look before you leap next time.”

I smiled and jabbed his side. “Oh. That’s funny.” The smile swept off my face as though the wind had blown it away. A heaviness weighed on my chest like a lump of lead. I was suddenly so sad. “Did you get what you needed?” I asked bleakly.

“Yes.” His voice sounded far away. I wanted to cry. “I’ll take a look at her computer files during your lunch period.” I could feel Emery’s eyes on my face. “I’m sure they’re encrypted, though.”

“Lunch,” I echoed hollowly, tears collecting on my eyelids. I sniffed and dabbed at my eyes. “I can’t go back to school…I can’t go back there—ever.” I had no idea where that came from or why. I had no idea where any of this was coming from.

Emery patted my shoulder. “This feeling will pass soon. It’s a crashing effect from the adrenaline drop.”

“How do you know?” I demanded, tears rolling down my cheeks. “You can’t know everything, can you?”

“You’ll feel back to normal when it balances,” he assured me confidently.

“Normal,” I snorted, and then fell into an oppressive silence.

By the time we reached school, the tears had dried up, and I felt almost “normal.” We entered the building, and Emery took off the baseball cap and stuffed it into his backpack. After combing his fingers through his flattened hair, he pushed my hood back.

“Feel better?” he asked and began pulling my hair loose.

I looked up at him numbly. He smiled, resembling any other boy my age. But he wasn’t, nor was he like any other adult male. In the last fifty minutes, he had broken into an apartment, stolen data from a laptop, and made a narrow escape with James Bond finesse. Now here he was, as comfortable as can be, straightening my hair.

“Who
are
you?” I asked.

My question didn’t take him aback in the least. The tone of his quick response sounded prophetic, as though he’d seen our futures in a crystal ball. “The most loyal friend you’ll ever have,” he told me, freeing the last of my locks. “The bell is about to ring. Are you ready to go to fourth period?”

Fourteen

On the way to the cafeteria after fourth period, Emery’s Droid alerted us that Heart was on the move again. “She’s on her way to the university for her shift,” Emery informed me, analyzing her route on the screen. “Which means she found nothing amiss.”

“Did we really break into her apartment?” I asked, glancing up at his face. Now that we were immersed in the humdrum predictability of school again, our off-campus adventure seemed like a dream.

“No,” he teased.

I laughed. “That’s a relief.”

The cafeteria door flew open in front of us. A combination of body odor and warm food slammed into me, causing me to suck in my breath. “That is so disgusting,” I gasped, covering my nose.

“I can only imagine,” Emery said, catching the door. “Find a way to dampen the smell.”

“Easy for you to say.” Lowering my hand, I entered the open room that was a swirl of moving bodies, noise, and odors. Who would have guessed smells could be so chaotic?

Sitting sideways with her feet on the bench, Miriam saved a place for us to sit at our usual table. Carli and Bren sat across from her, looking very yin and yang. All arms and legs, Carli was a ray of optimistic sunshine with long blond hair and a peaches-and-cream complexion, where tiny Bren had skin a shade lighter than espresso, straightened black hair bobbed at her jawline, and dark, feisty eyes. They were opposing, yet complimentary forces of life.

The three girls were debating whether actor Zac Efron’s eyes were blue-green or blue-hazel.

“They’re blue-green-hazel,” I announced as Miriam flipped her legs under the table. Emery and I quickly stepped through the bench and sat down before bodies could expand into the unoccupied space.

“Blue-green-hazel,” Bren repeated, grinning. “That is totally lame.”

I shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”

“Cass is right,” Carli piped up. “I read that, too.”

To Emery, Miriam mouthed,
They’re blue-green
.

“Whatever,” said Bren, popping a grape in her mouth.

“Where are my manners?” I joked, and made quick intros. I explained to Carli and Bren, “Emery is staying with us while his mom is gone.” I didn’t mention, of course, that his mother was the missing professor headlining news.

Miriam nibbled on her sandwich, looking bored. She already had this information.

“So, where do you live, Emery?” Carli asked brightly.

“Near Wallingford University.”

“I use to live near Wallingford,” Carli exclaimed, all cheer and braces. “Which elementary school did you go to?”

“Emery was homeschooled,” I answered hastily for him.

The three girls looked at him like he had two heads. 

“Does your mom teach you?” Bren wanted to know. She hadn’t picked up the past-tense usage.

Emery smiled at her. “No, I had tutors.”

Again, the girls missed the past-tense reference. It made me wonder how many small yet significant details went over my head, too.

“Tutors,” Bren echoed, unwrapping her sandwich. “I guess that would be better than your mom. Can’t imagine my mom homeschooling me.”

We girls grunted agreement.

“Hey, did you guys hear about Chad Dunham?” Carli whispered, switching the subject to the most popular, stuck-up boy in school. Her eager tone promised a juicy Chad tidbit, and Emery inquiries were thankfully dropped. As Carli filled us in, I caught one of Nate’s friends, Ahmid Mazur, staring at me two tables away. He sat next to Bobby. Jared sat across from them, his back facing me.

When my eyes met Ahmid’s, he gave me a grin that said,
Caught me
. Turning his head to Bobby, he shielded his mouth, saying something. Bobby laughed, glancing at me. Jared’s back visibly stiffened.

Now, this was a predicament. I couldn’t read lips, like Ahmid feared I could, but I did have a more effective means of eavesdropping.
Sorry, Emery
, I thought.
This is a temptation
I can’t resist
. Staring at Ahmid, I weeded out the surrounding clamor, tuning in to his voice.

“Man, I can’t believe she’s so into the dude,” Ahmid said to Bobby, wickedly smiling.

“Nate said the guy’s cool, but I’ve got my doubts.”

“Nate’s delusional. The guy’s a total geek.”

I gave Ahmid a dirty look.

He laughed. “Dudes, she’s giving me the evil eye.”

“Stop looking at her,” Jared demanded.

My heart sped hearing his voice.

“You’re just jealous because she’s into that loser,” Ahmid needled. Looking at Jared’s face, his expression became concerned. “Just kidding, Jared,” he backpedaled. “Why would you be jealous over
her
, anyway?”

The way he emphasized “her” made me want to crawl under the table.

Bobby came to Ahmid’s aid. “Yeah, Jared, we’re the jealous ones. You’ve got Robin Newton all over you. Man, we all want your problems.”

Ouch!
Emery jabbed me in the ribs with his elbow. Losing concentration, I lost the boys’ voices among the other gossip, slander, and idle chatter in the room. Glaring up at Emery, I rubbed my side.

Calmly, he smiled at me, sticking a pretzel in his mouth.

My glare turned to Ahmid and Bobby.
I’ll show you who the losers are
, I thought, feeling hot, angry blood pump into my veins.
I’ll show you
.

~~~

Slouching in my desk in literature class, I pretended to review the pages in
Jane Eyre
that Miss Lake had told us we’d discuss in class today. My outrage had dissolved into deep depression, wrapping around me like a lead blanket.
Fitting
, I thought dismally, staring down at the book page that might as well have been blank.
Plain Jane and I share too much in
common
.

From this thought, my mind slipped into schizophrenic dialogue.
Why are you letting
those idiots get to you?
I scolded myself.
Rise above it
. From there, I screamed internally,
Of all people, why her? Why Robin?
My mind pointed out,
She’s a plastic Barbie
doll. Why should you care if a couple of morons view her as a goddess?
The crueler side of me, or perhaps the most honest, answered,
You care because that plastic Barbie doll is going to
sweep Jared away and out of your reach forever. Like Ahmid said, why would anyone be
jealous of you? You’re a sardine.

I glanced at Emery, who was looking over Selma’s disk content on his laptop. He had confirmed in the cafeteria that the computer files were indeed encrypted. Now he would have to break the encryption.
Emery has real
problems
, I thought, watching his fingers rapidly strike keys.
My gosh, I have real
problems. I’m a mutant
,
for crying out loud
. Giving my head a little shake, I commanded,
Pull yourself out
of this. Stop being stupid and shallow
.
Get on task
.

Complying with my mental demand, I focused on the words in front of me, almost laughing out loud. Ironically, Miss Lake had us review the pages where Mr. Rochester brings the beautiful Blanche Ingram to his home.

“All right, class,” Miss Lake spoke up. I glanced sideways at Emery as he closed the laptop and placidly looked up at Miss Lake. My eyes shifted forward to her. “Mr. Rochester returns to Thornfield with a group of elegant, high-society guests,” she continued. “Among this aristocratic group is a young woman named Blanche Ingram. What does Charlotte Bronte tell us about Blanche, and what are your impressions of her?”

A dozen hands flew in the air. Pleased, Miss Lake pointed at fingers for responses.

“Miss Ingram is beautiful.”

The knife plunges into my gut
.

“She’s popular.”

“People envy her.”

It twists
.