“How did they get into his locker?”Fox asked between munching the last bites of toast.
“I don’t know.All I know is that it’s costing me twenty dollars a day.”
“But why would they steal his lunch?”Indira asked.“Surely there are other people with more valuable things they might steal.”
“I’ve been making him this amazing tuna salad—”
“He’s being bullied,” Fox said over me.“I knew this was going to happen.That stupid school is never going to change.”
“I don’t think it’s bullying,” I said.And then, with a little more coffee trickling through me, my brain lit up.“It’s a mystery!Oh my God, that’s perfect.I’m ready to help!”
“No,” Fox said, “it’s not a mystery.It’s bullying.And it’s probably that charming little girl, Victoria.”
(They didnotsaythat charming little girl.)
“Well,” I said, “even if itisbullying, that’s still a problem I can help with—hold on, Keme’s bully is agirl?Why didn’t anyone tell me this?Why have you been keeping it a secret?”
“Since fifth grade,” Indira said.She had her hands on her hips, and she was looking at her best knives like she had a mind to go out and debone a chicken.“But I thought that was all over.I thought Tori had grown up.”
“Bullies never grow up,” Fox said darkly.
“Seriously?”I asked.“Nobody thought they should tell me about the fact that Keme has been systematically bullied by a girl since fifth grade?The other day, he pinned me down and gave me a pink belly!”
“You liked it,” Fox said absently.Then, to Indira: “I’m going down to the school to take care of it.”
“I didn’t like it!”
Already taking off her apron, Indira said, “I’m coming with you.”
“Well, I should probably go too,” I said.“Because I’m Keme’s friend, and if itisa mystery—”
“No,” Fox said.“We don’t need you.”
Indira handed me the apron as she strode toward the door.“We’ll be fine, dear.Work on your story.Besides, we don’t need another episode like your last visit with Mr.Dunkle.”
“He’s a math teacher,” I called after them.“They’re all sadists.”
Nothing.
“If God had wanted me to do math,” I called a little more loudly, “I would have been born a calculator.”
But it was too late; they were gone.
2
So, I was going to stay home and work on my story.
You can guess how long that lasted.
About two minutes after Fox and Indira left, I hopped in the Pilot (yes, Bobby was still letting me borrow it) and sped after them.
It was late January, and although winter on the coast didn’t involve a lot of snow, itdidfeature long, sunless stretches and unending showers of icy rain and the pervasive sense that you would never be warm again, which was why I cranked up the heater on the Pilot as I drove into Hastings Rock.Today, of course, was the exception to that bit about the rain, with a clear sky of thin blue and that aggressively insistent sun.
The other thing about winter here was that there was still so much green—all that dense, temperate rainforest with spruce and cedar and hemlock.If you were into movies about vampires, with lots of thick fog and the possibility of werewolves, it’s basically a dream, and most of the time I loved it—but sometimes, on a day like today, it was nice to feel the sun on your face.(Post-coffee.)
Hastings High had been updated in stages over the years (the snarky part of me wanted to say,since Fox’s day).Honestly, it was a surprisingly nice-looking school: the grounds were clean, and it had a brick veneer, and over the front doors was a big window of etched glass that said HASTINGS ROCK PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL.We’d missed the morning drop-off rush because Keme was now getting his rides to and from school with Millie (it was so cute, but also, cue the gagging noises).Fox’s Van was parked in one of the visitor spots.(Yes, it was a 1989 Toyota Van, and yes, it was even worse than you’re imagining.) And Fox and Indira were marching straight toward the school.
Fortunately they were so intent on their mission that they didn’t spot me.As a matter of fact, they seemedsointent that I was currently very happy that I wasn’t a certain young lady named Victoria or Tori or whatever she was calling herself these days.I wasn’t sure of the specifics, but I figured if Tori didn’t straighten up and fly right—in more or less those terms—well, there were a lot of fairy tales about kids ending up in ovens.
