“Are we going to hang out in the bushes all morning?” Liv was getting cranky.
“Give me a second. I've spent all my time thinking up ways to get out of Jackson. I never put much thought into how to get in. But we can't leave without Link.”
Liv smiled at me. “Never underestimate the power of the British accent. Watch and learn.”
Miss Hester looked over her glasses at Liv, who had twisted her blond hair into a bun. It was summer, which meant Miss Hester was wearing one of her sleeveless blouses and knee-length polyester shorts, with her white slip-on Keds. From where I was hiding under the counter next to Liv, I had a clear view of the bottom of Miss Hester's green shorts and her buniony feet.
“I'm sorry. Who did you say you were with?”
“The BEC.” Liv kicked me, and I edged toward the hall.
“Of course. And that would be?”
Liv sighed impatiently. “The British Educational Consulate. As I said, we're looking for high-functioning schools in the United States to use as models for educational reform.”
“High functionin’?” Miss Hester sounded confused. I made my way around the corner on my hands and knees.
“I can't believe no one informed you of my visit. May I speak with your headmaster, please?”
“Headmaster?” By the time Miss Hester figured out what a headmaster was, I was halfway up the stairs. Beyond the blond, even beyond the brains, Liv was a girl with a lot of hidden talents.
“All right, enough a the Charlotte's Web jokes. Grab your specimen firmly with one hand, and make your incision down the belly, top to bottom, with your scissors.” I could hear Mrs. Wilson through the door. I knew what was going on in biology today, from the smell alone. Not to mention the commotion.
“I think I'm going to pass out —”
“Wilbur, no!”
“Ewww!”
I looked through the window in the door. Pink fetal pigs were lined up in a row on the lab tables. They were small, pinned to black, waxy boards inside metal trays. Except Link's.
Link's pig was massive. He raised his hand. “Um, Mrs. Wilson? I can't crack the sternum with scissors. Tank's too big for that.”
“Tank?”
“Tank, my pig.”
“You can use the garden shears in the back a the room.”
I knocked on the window. Link walked right by, but he didn't hear me. Eden was sitting at the long black lab table next to Link's, holding her nose with one hand and poking around inside her pig with tweezers. I was surprised she was in there with the rest of the flunkies — not because she was a rocket scientist or anything, but because I would've expected her mom and the DAR mafia to find a way to get her out of it.
Eden pulled a long yellow rope out of her pig. “What is all this yellow stuff?” She looked like she was going to hurl.
Mrs. Wilson smiled. This was her favorite moment of the year. “Miss Westerly, how many times did you go to the Dar-ee Keen this week? Did you have a shake with your fries and your burger? Onion rings? A side a pie?”
“What?”
“It's fat. Now let's look for the bladder.”
I knocked again, as Link walked by with a pair of enormous shears. He saw me and opened the door. “Mrs. Wilson, I gotta use the bathroom.”
We took off down the hall, shears and all. When we banged our way around the corner in front of the attendance office, Liv smiled at Miss Hester and closed her notebook. “Thanks ever so much. I'll be in touch.”
She disappeared out the front door behind us, her blond hair falling out of her bun. You would have to be brain-damaged to not realize Liv was a teenager, in her ripped jeans.
Miss Hester watched in bewilderment, shaking her head. “Redcoats.”
The thing about Link was, he never asked for details. He just went with it. He went with it when we tried to cut a real tire to make a tire swing. He went with it when I made him help me build a gator trap in my backyard, and every time I stole the Beater to chase a girl the rest of the school thought was a freak. It was a great quality in a best friend, and sometimes I wondered if I would do the same for him if things were reversed. Because I was always the one who asked, and he was always the one who was game.
Within five minutes, we were rolling down Jackson Street. We made it all the way to Dove Street, when we pulled over at the Dar-ee Keen. I checked my watch. Amma would know I was gone by now. Marian would be waiting for Liv at the library, if she hadn't missed her at breakfast. And Mrs. Wilson would've sent someone to drag Link out of the bathroom. We were running out of time.
The actual plan didn't come together until we sat down with greasy food on greasy yellow trays at our greasy red table.
“Can't believe she ran off with Vampire Boy.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? He's an Incubus,” Liv corrected.
“Whatever. If he's a Blood Incubus, he can suck your blood. Same difference.” Link shoved a biscuit into his mouth while he rolled another one around in the pool of gravy on his plate.