A crypt-like silence had descended on the auditorium. Most of the students had stunned expressions. Only Dr. Captious had an arrogant smirk, but he always had an arrogant smirk. I turned to the balcony. The Red Team girls were grinning smugly, but Mason Draudimon’s ghastly pale, wide-eyed expression shocked me—he was absolutely terrified. What was up with that?
Even if the police had somehow connected Mason to the stalker, that wouldn’t explain his reaction. His dad would pull strings and he’d be off the hook. So what was it about Mr. Munificent’s announcement that terrorized Mason? The drug connection made no sense. Everyone knew the drug dealers were Art Rubric and Chuckie Cuff. Mason hated drugs. There had to be something else. I needed to know what that something was.
Being off the hook had totally lost its appeal. I officially put myself back on.
Suddenly, I felt a warm shoulder leaning against me, and breath against my cheek. “If you need a bodyguard,” Egon said into my ear, “I know a few moves.”
…
With the exception of Social Studies, Business, and one study hall, Kathryn and I have every class together. It’s a nice arrangement, because I often need her to lean on. Sometimes metaphorically, other times, like today, literally. We went straight from the assembly to gym class, which I suffered through against my will. On my best day, I stunk at any sport that didn’t involve ancient weapons or hand-to-hand combat. But after the assembly, my concentration had dropped below zero, and concentration was a prerequisite for this particular gym class. Miss Jackson, our teacher, was a former dodgeball diva.
I want to be clear about this—dodgeball is not a game. It’s an evil cult activity that decent people shouldn’t associate themselves with. In ancient times, they called it “stoning.” Fortunately, I was confident that the damage I suffered to internal organs was minimal, and the throbbing red welts in the center of my back would heal in a decade or so. I limped into the empty girls’ locker room, leaning on Kathryn, moaning in exaggerated agony.
“We are awesome dodgeball players, aren’t we, Rin?”
“You played. I was a casualty. I thought they outlawed dodgeball in civilized schools.”
Kathryn shrugged. She helped me to the bench. “Since when is this place civilized? We all know that gym class was modeled after the medieval torture chamber. Damp, musty walls, scurrying insects, odors of death and critter poop—now, before the rest of the class moseys in here, let’s get back to the assembly.”
“We weren’t talking about the assembly.”
Kathryn threw her arms wide. “You were thinking about it. The welts prove it. I’ve seen you practice kung fu. Nobody can touch you if you don’t want them to. I know you’re all flustered over Egon offering to guard your body, and I’m thrilled for you, but that wouldn’t transform you into an instant easy target. Now, indulge me. The way I heard it, there is some connection between the stalker, the drugs, and Mason. Is that the way you heard it?”
“Flustered is an understatement. But you’re right, the assembly left me wondering. It doesn’t feel right. I got the connection between the stalker and the drugs. But not Mason. Something else is going on with him. Did you see the look on his face?”
“Okay, great minds think alike. I saw it, too. Mason’s not afraid of anything. Suddenly the police mention a kidnapper and drugs, and Mason’s afraid. I smell guilt in the air. Aren’t you supposed to have some sixth sense about this stuff? Did you check the batteries on your bad guy meter?”
“But the drug connection is pretty far-fetched. Everybody knows that Mason doesn’t do drugs.”
“Right. The three things he is most proud of are his grades and his drug-free lifestyle.”
“That’s two things.”
“And the fact that he can get away with murder. I assumed you assumed that one.”
“Yeah, he’s a role model.”
“So, this proves that Mason, the drugs, and the skull-headed guy are connected.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves that Bobby was right. The Class Project is a sinister plot to get everyone addicted to this Psycho-whatsis 10 and take over the world.”
“That’s not what Bobby said.”
Kathryn took me by the shoulders and looked straight into my eyes. “Read between the lines, Rin. How can you do what you do with such a total lack of women’s intuition?”
Sometimes Kathryn and I are on completely different wavelengths. “Kathryn, do you think that, even as out of control as this school is, the teachers would knowingly let us make illegal drugs?”
“Knowingly? No. Cluelessly? Absolutely.”
“The connection to drugs doesn’t make sense. There has to be something else.”