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Authors: Kimberly Reid

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“Why was it strange?”

Immediately I sense him going on guard, and wish I had never brought it up, but now I had to come up with an answer.

“She didn't ask me if I was born here. I don't know, it seemed kind of like she was suggesting something.”

“Like what? Like I'm an illegal?”

“No, not like that. Well, maybe like that. Kind of like she was judging. I mean, you aren't, right? Not that it matters.” And it doesn't. I'm just trying to make conversation and as usual, when it comes to boys, I'm only making a mess.

“I'm Mexican-American. I was born here. But I could be from anywhereâPuerto Rico, Spainâevery brown person in this state isn't Mexican, and every Mexican in this state isn't illegal. Maybe you're the one judging. You should know better.”

This is going wrong on so many levels.

“You know what? Let's forget about Paulette and work,” I say, trying to sound light and airy, as though the last minute didn't happen. “We're supposed to be working on the French skit, right?”

“We should just go. I have to meet Malcolm early tomorrow.”

Before I can try to make things right, he's already taking our trays to the trash can and heading for the door. I'd try to fix it, but I know I'll probably make it worse. Other than giving him directions, I don't say a word as he drives me home. And when I get out of the car in front of my house and tell him I'll see him tomorrow, he says, “I guess.”

Without understanding how it even happened, I have completely ruined our first not-a-date-but-could-be-a-date.

Chapter 12

M
arco managed to avoid me all day Sunday. He and Malcolm had already left the warehouse by the time I got to work, and when Paulette and I returned from the last client assessment, his car was gone. By Monday morning, I still haven't thought of how I'll apologize, mostly because I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for. A lot of what was said, and insinuated, came from him. But I started it and whatever I said wrong really ticked him off, and I couldn't sleep all last night thinking about it. I've been trying to distract myself with my classes, hoping the right words will come to me by French class.

PE should keep my mind off Marco since I can spend the next fifty minutes hating it. It isn't that I'm lazy, I just hate to sweat. And I get tired. That means I tend to be a slacker when it comes to PE. It's the only class I've ever gotten a C in since first grade. My sophomore year I would have had a perfect grade point average if not for PE, which makes me hate the class even more. Even worse luck is the fact that Lissa is in my PE class. When I walk into the locker room, she's talking to one of her clones, whose back is to me. Lissa breaks into a smile, but not because she's happy to see me. It's the kind of smile that only the evil can make, a smile that says something is about to go down. But before I can prepare for whatever she's about to do or say, I'm thrown off by the clone when she turns to face me, because it's a new one. And somewhere at home, she's got a Louis Vuitton dog carrier.

“Chanti, this is Annette, a friend of mine.”

Lissa's entourage is like a Benetton adâit includes just about one of everybody. I'm guessing Annette is Korean based on the charm dangling from her necklace, a single letter of the alphabet. I don't actually speak Korean so I could be wrong, but Aurora Ave isn't far from Little Seoul and I know what the letters look like from all the business signs. I also spend a lot of time going over the menu at the Korean barbecue on Center Street. She has probably never driven a single street in Little Seoul. Whatever her nationality, Annette somehow manages to look a lot like Lissa. How
do
they do that?

She also looks bothered, like it's some great effort to be introduced to me. Like I even care who she is. I already know more about her than I need to.

“Annette just started today. She got mono at the beginning of summer, so she's just now back. Chanti's one of the scholarship kids.”

I don't say a word to either of them, and just walk to my locker. This doesn't stop Lissa from talking to me, of course.

“So Chanti, Headmistress Smythe's pen still hasn't turned up. Any developments on that?”

“Not unless you have it, seeing as you had as much opportunity to take it as any of us.”

“Like I need to steal a pen.”

I nod at the still-silent Annette. “Like she needs to carry a dogless dog carrier around the mall.”

Yeah, I thought that would shut her up.

I figured I was done with Lissa and Annette until they come up behind me while I'm running my laps on the track. Well, fast-walking my laps. Seeing as how they'd already lapped me twice, I knew their slowed pace had everything to do with me.

“What did you mean about the dog carrier at the mall?” Lissa asked.

“She knows what I mean. Ask her.”

They flank me so I get to hear them in stereo.

“Look, I'm not sure what you
think
you saw, but that's not why we wanted to talk to you,” Annette says. “Lissa was just giving you crap before. That's just how she is.”

How she is what? Evil?

“All we really wanted to do was ask if you'd heard about the party Annette's throwing Friday. It's to celebrate her having a life again after that whole mono thing.”

“My parents will be out of town,” Annette says. “It should be fun.”

“I'm busy this weekend.”

“The party will be at 218 Prado, nine o'clockâin case you reconsider. I hope you do,” Lissa says before she runs off.

Bethanie will probably hate me because I got an actual invitation to the party, even if it is just a bribe, instead of a casual mention in conversation just to let you know there's a party, but you aren't invited, which is all Bethanie got. That's why I won't tell her about it, because it would be mean, like something Lissa would do. And she might try to talk me into going so she can come with me. That'll happen when Bethanie starts shopping discount. Meaning never.

“Where's my bracelet?”

This question follows a shriek, which comes from a girl on the other side of the locker room. I look over to see it's ZoÃ«, the girl who, if it's possible, is even less athletic than I am. At least I was fast-walking my laps. If she'd gone any slower around the track, she'd have fallen over. She's definitely a Langdon misfit. I wonder how she survived this place for two years without either dropping out or going crazy on somebody. But now the poor girl is just about in tears and probably not worried about eating alone at lunch. Worse, every girl in the locker room pretends not to notice her. So I'm right, she
is
the social misfit. Well, the other one.

“What's wrong?” I ask, since no one else cares.

“My bracelet, it's gone. My dad's going to kill me. He didn't think I was ready for serious jewelry. I haven't had it a week and now it's gone.”

“Are you sure you had it on today?”

“Of course I'm sure,” the girl says, looking at me like
Who are you, and do you think I'm an idiot
?

“Maybe it's on the track,” I suggest. “I'll help you look for it.”

“No, no, no! I didn't wear it out there. I put it in my locker when I dressed out, and now it's gone.”

“You mean this locker, with no lock on it?” I say, and I admit it probably wasn't the most sensitive thing I could have said, but it was certainly the most obvious. These people at Langdon are supposed to be so smart, but they don't have a lick of common sense.

“You're one of those scholarship girls, aren't you?” she says and the tears stop instantly. “How do I know you didn't do it?”

Can you believe this?

“Hey, wait a minute. Chanti's a friend of mine. I don't know what you're suggesting, but you're all wrong.”

This comes from Lissa, which is even more unbelievable, unless you consider her friend's an apparent klepto who I have the goods on, and who they no doubt guess I suspect as the bracelet thief.

For effect, Lissa puts her arm around my shoulders and adds, “I think you'd better keep looking for that bracelet and stop making accusations.”

“Come on, Chanti, let's go,” Annette says, looking a little guilty if you ask me.

The minute we're out of the locker room, they dump me like I'm the one with mono, without even so much as a good-bye.

My world history classroom is too warm and the subject matter too boring. Add that to the tryptophan in the turkey sandwich I had at lunch and I'm trying hard to suppress a yawn when the headmistress comes on the PA system and interrupts a riveting lecture on the Peloponnesian War.

“I'd like the following students to come to my office immediately : Marco Ruiz, Bethanie Larsen, and Chantal Evans.”

As soon as she says Marco's name, I know the rest of the names she'll call. I know the rest of the school is wondering what The Scholarship Kids did, hoping that after a couple of weeks trying to pretend we were absolutely no different, Langdon Prep had finally come to its senses and decided saving the poor wasn't worth the effort.

We all arrive at the office at the same time. Mildred is there and smiles at us but looks worried. She's standing behind Smythe, dusting ancient, first-edition books that have likely never been read by our fearless leader. She doesn't strike me as the type to read Aristophanes.

“Good morning, students,” Smythe says, all business. “What I have to say is of a very delicate nature, but it must be said. It has been brought to our attention that there has been a rash of small but not inconsequential thefts around the school. Now, I'm not suggesting that any of you have had anything to do with the thefts . . .”

Yeah, but she brought us all in here anyway.

Mildred, who has given up any pretense of dusting (and why bother since Smythe doesn't seem to know she's there, anyway?), stands behind the headmistress's chair and shakes her head.

“Then why'd you call us in here?” Marco asks.

“Well, Langdon Preparatory has never had a problem like this, and suddenly we have these thefts that coincide with your arrival.”

“But the whole freshman class started when we did,” I say.

“All the thefts have occurred in Percy Hall, an upperclassman building. Freshmen would have been very noticeable wandering around Percy Hall. You three are the only new upperclassmen in school,” Smythe says, sounding victorious.

I've mentioned that I try to avoid conflict, and that's true, especially when it involves people who see no problem in pressing their thumb against my larynx before we've been formally introduced. But now I'm being falsely accused. Been there, done that. I have to say something in my defense.

“What about Annette Park? She's kind of new. She started school late.”

And I know she's a thief because I caught her in the act.

“That's precisely why she cannot be blamed for the disappearance of my pen. She started school after it went missing. Besides, Miss Park hardly needs to steal.”

I guess she's never heard of the thrill of the steal. Not everyone
needs
to steal.

“You mean this pen?” Bethanie says, holding up the pen that I now know she didn't steal.

“Where did you get that?” Smythe says, taking it from Bethanie and appraising it like it's a rare jewel.

“I found it in the library. I figured someone must have left it there.”

Smythe looks at her skeptically and while I'm grateful Bethanie is taking the heat off me, she's opened herself up to Smythe's suspicion. Bethanie and I are the only ones who know that isn't Smythe's pen.

“From now on, don't assume because you find something you are now the new owner of it. We have a lost and found in the main office.”

So not the response I expected from Smythe. I figured she'd be on the phone to the police by now. It throws me for a second, but I get back on track.

“I just can't believe Langdon has never had thefts before we showed up,” I say.

“Oh, we've had a few thefts and other discipline problems, but we deal with them before they get out of hand.”

“And sometimes you get things wrong,” says Mildred, startling Smythe and confirming what I thoughtâthat Smythe had forgotten she was there. “Sometimes you make false accusations and hurt people.”

“This is none of your business.”

“This is every bit my business,” Mildred says.

“Leave my office. Now.”

Mildred looks like she's considering whether she'll leave or not, but then she heads for the door. I get the feeling it's only because she chose to, and not because her boss told her to.

“We'll discuss this later,” Smythe says as Mildred leaves the room.

“I look forward to it,” Mildred says, slamming the door behind her.

Smythe smoothes her hair as though she and Mildred had a real fight and not just a verbal skirmish. Given the hostility between them, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd thrown down before. It's clear Mildred shook her up a little, but now Smythe's back to business.

“As I was saying, we've had thefts before, but it's a rarity, and never of this magnitude. Not on the order of a two-thousand-dollar tennis bracelet.”

I almost choke on that bit of information.

“Miss Evans, are you still here with us?”

“I was just thinking.”

“Well, it seems you should have done some thinking last summer. Maybe if you'd given your actions some thought, you would have made better, wiser choices.”

“Last summer? I don't get it,” says Bethanie.

“So now you're suspecting us of something that happened before we started Langdon?” Marco asks.

“I'm not referring to all of youâjust Chanti. Let's just say I always know more about our students than they think I do.”

I know I'm pushing it, but I can't let this go without saying something.

“I sure hope you're looking at other suspects, and not singling us out just because we're the scholarship kids.”

“Dismissed,” is all the headmistress says.