chapter 14
It was fairly early Friday morning when Leona showed up at my front door. She looked positively frantic. Her bangs were pinned back haphazardly, and her clothes weren’t ironed. Oh, no. This was obviously an emergency!
“What’s wrong?” I demanded as I let her in. “Someone’s hurt?”
“Tessa,”—she was shaking her head—“I’m not sure what to do. I was at Izzie’s house last night to check up on her, and I found something.” Leona dragged out a kitchen chair and flopped into it as I crutched my way across from her. She sounded freaked out.
“What did you find?”
“A note poking out of her backpack.”
“You read it? That’s a violation of her privacy, Leona.” But I knew there was more to it. She wouldn’t look so bad if there weren’t.
Leona reached into her adorable patchwork purse and took out a crumpled-up piece of notebook paper, handing it to me. “Read it.”
I gulped, unfolding it slowly, and immediately my heart sunk. When I was done, I raised my gaze to hers. “Do you think …”
“That we’ve been had by another Kitten? It’s seems that way.”
I dropped the paper on the white tablecloth, my mind swirling. “But Izzie … I don’t think she would do that. She’s not vindictive.”
“Maybe not. Maybe it was an accident? I mean, she’s been a mess lately. And Chloe even said—”
“Wait. Chloe?”
Leona looked away. “Yeah, um, she came with me last night to check on Izzie. You were out with Joel, and Kira was with her mom, so I brought her along.”
This was not a big deal. I shouldn’t stress out about it, but I felt it coming on. For the second time in two days, the world was spinning. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”
Leona tsked. “Don’t be like that, Tess. She’s on the squad now. She’s actually pretty funny if you get to know her.”
It almost felt like a slap in the face, her talking about my archenemy this way. But at the same time, with so many battles to fight, I had to pick the right one. And currently Izzie was at the top of the list.
“Okay, and what did Chloe think?” I couldn’t believe I was asking that.
“She said that Izzie was definitely sneaking around doing something that she shouldn’t. That Izzie’s erratic behavior coupled with her obviously guilt-filled note points to acute PTSOSD—Post Traumatic SOS Disorder. She thinks we should intervene immediately.”
I sat there, staring back at her. “She said that?”
“Yes. She also said that she didn’t think Izzie was the traitor, but that she wouldn’t rule it out. She was going to collect evidence.”
“She’s a regular CSI investigator.” I blinked quickly, looking out over my cluttered kitchen. I’d been so busy lately that I hadn’t had time to wash the pots that had piled up in my sink. And now I felt completely wiped out. Chloe. Flipping Chloe.
“So what do you suggest we do about Izzie?” I asked, glancing back at Leona. “Or should I call your new BFF.”
Leona narrowed her eyes. “You’re being kind of bitchy, Tess.”
I gasped. Well, that was uncalled for. Worse, I knew she was right. “Okay,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.” Picking up the note again, I scanned it quickly. “Guess we should talk to Izzie.”
Leona nodded. “But how do we get her to spill the beans?”
I considered it, running my fingers through my hair. Then I stopped and smiled. “The best way to get anyone to talk. Makeover.”
Leona and I waited at my kitchen table for Izzie to arrive. I’d called her earlier, begging her to let me give her split ends a hot-oil treatment. She only agreed when I promised cupcakes afterward. She was going to be devastated when she found out this wasn’t a real makeover. And that I didn’t have cupcakes.
We had all of the usual equipment out on the stripped-down tabletop. Oatmeal mixed with eggs, cucumber slices, hot-oil treatment sitting in water. There was even a boiling kettle of water on the stove.
“I’m nervous,” Leona said, tapping her nails on the table. “What if she freaks out?”
“Then we’ll make that chamomile tea I bought.”
“Okay. Well if she’s the traitor?”
Luckily, the doorbell rang, and I didn’t have to answer. Instead, Leona and I exchanged a glance. When she didn’t get up, I motioned toward my crutches.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She stood, taking a deep breath before walking over and opening the door. “Izzie!” Leona said it so upbeat that Izzie was immediately alarmed and looked past her toward me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes glassy.
Careful not to blow our cover, I smiled. “Nothing. We’re just really super-duper happy to see you.” That might have been a little too cheery. She glanced around suspiciously as she came inside.
Her red hair hung limp around her shoulders, all signs of her luxurious curls were gone. Just tangles and knots of dull strands. Under her green eyes were heavy bags, red rings. She’d been crying. My word. What had happened to her?
Half dazed, Izzie sat down at the kitchen table and began to pick at her unpolished nails. Leona widened her eyes at me from over Izzie’s shoulder.
“Where’s that tea?” she asked me immediately. I pointed to the white cabinet above the stove. As she went to get it, I looked across the table to Izzie.
“Isabel Edwards, are you okay?”
She looked up, somewhat stunned. No one called her Isabel except for her grandmother. I felt the moment called for some tenderness. She smiled sadly. “I don’t think so, Tessa. I feel like I’m losing my mind.” Her expression was so tortured that I felt goose bumps run up my arms. She had to be guilty. What other reason could Izzie have for being this unkempt?
“I know what it’s like to feel confused,” I whispered. “I’ve been there.”
“No, you haven’t. Not like this.”
And I didn’t doubt her. Even in my darkest moments, I never looked this down. This depressed. Izzie was going through something else entirely. I couldn’t imagine what would bring her to the point of ruining SOS. But I was starting to feel like it was the only explanation.
When Leona came back to the table, she set a green mug in front of Izzie with a tea tag hanging over the side.
“I’m worried about you,” Leona said as she sat down. “We all are.”
Izzie sipped carefully, both hands wrapped around the ceramic. “Things are going to be okay,” she murmured. “I have some things to deal with, and then I’ll be okay.”
“But what are you dealing with?” I asked, leaning over on the table. “Just tell us what you did, and we can help.”
“I can’t tell you. I …” But Izzie’s rigid body looked like it closed in on itself, and she quietly began to sob. It was like she liquefied right there.
Poor Izzie! Grabbing my crutches, I hopped over to her side of the table, Leona coming to stand at my side. When I got there, I stood behind Izzie and bent down and hugged her. She held my arms, continuing to cry.
“Whatever you’ve done, Iz. We still love you. We forgive you. You just have to tell us,” I whispered into her shoulder. She didn’t answer, but as her shaking tapered down, she released my arm.
I couldn’t press her anymore today. She was far too fragile. I hated to admit it, but Chloe’s diagnosis seemed spot on. This was a severe case of PTSOSD.
Maybe after a relaxing and self-esteem-building makeover, she’d be able to admit what she’d done. Then we could find out exactly what led to the outing of SOS.
As she sat with her shoulders hunched, I piled Izzie’s hair into a loose bun and silently got out the beauty tools. I worked the hot oil slowly through her hair, massaging her scalp with my fingers. Without a word, Leona took Izzie’s hand and began buffing her nails, getting them ready to polish.
About halfway through, Leona shot me a concerned gaze, but I didn’t know how to respond. I was way out of my league. I finished up the conditioning treatment and then crutched over to the sink to wash my hands.
“We’re going to take good care of you,” I heard Leona whisper to her. “Tessa is great at clearing out pores, so your complexion will be glowing by tomorrow. This conditioner is going to bring back the gorgeous shine in your hair. And after this, I’m taking you to the mall to retrain you on how to accessorize. It’s all going to be okay.”
I didn’t hear Izzie answer.
My house phone rang, and I went over to look at the caller ID. “It’s Kira,” I said, looking over at Leona. I hadn’t spoken to her since I was out with Joel last night. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to now.
“Let it go to voice mail.” Leona rolled her eyes and went back to prepping Izzie’s nails.
“No,” Izzie said. “Answer it, Tess. I want you two to patch things up.”
Aw! That was so sweet of Izzie. But it wasn’t that easy. Not with the betrayals and backstabbing. Not with Joel still in the middle. But I also thought it was rude to send someone to voice mail.
“Hey,” I said.
“I’m going to be honest,” Kira started. “I know we shouldn’t even discuss Joel because we’re trying to keep up appearances for the squad. I just don’t want there to be any weirdness at practice.” She sounded emotionally exhausted.
Anxiety turned in my stomach. “I’m sorry about that. I really don’t want any weirdness either. I didn’t even know you two were still friends.”
“We are. And I’m going to keep being friends with him. But … let’s not bump into each other like that again. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Now,” she continued, sounding over it, “how’s Izzie? Chloe told me she and Leona found some crazy note last night. Did she admit to ratting us out yet?”
“No,” I said, looking over at Izzie and Leona. They were both looking down as Leona applied the Pink Champagne nail polish. “I think it’s all going to be okay,” I told Kira. “Smitten Kittens stick together.”
“Like glue.” She sighed. “Well, keep me updated, okay?”
“I will. And, K, I’m really sorry. About … everything.”
She paused a long time before clearing her throat. “Me, too,” she said quickly before hanging up. I stood on my crutches for a moment, listening to the dial tone. Truth was I did feel bad. I just wasn’t really sure how to make it better.
When I got back to the table, I checked Izzie’s hair. “You can probably go wash this out now,” I suggested, picking through her curls. “Do you need help?”
“No, I think I’ve got it,” Izzie said quietly, scratching at her hair. “Thanks, though.”
“Hurry up,” Leona called as Izzie got up. “I need to do your other hand. It’s desperately in need of color, and the fashion police will be here any minute.”
I laughed, but Izzie was silent as she crossed the room, headed toward my bathroom. When she was gone, I sat down across from Leona. We stared at each other for a long moment until she dropped her head.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Did she turn us over to Blaze?”
Leona grabbed the bottle of pink nail polish and shook it. “I don’t know. I’m not convinced. I mean, yes—she’s acting way screwed up. But I feel like we’re missing something.”
“Me, too.”
Leona got up, grabbing the Oreos out of the cabinet as I thought about what to do next. Izzie was clearly a wreck, and I was pretty sure we’d need to get her some professional help. I’d hoped the makeover would plug her back in to the outside world, but it seemed to do the opposite.
There was a clanking sound in the bathroom, like something had fallen out of the medicine cabinet and into the sink. I stood, grabbing my crutches. “She’s been in there a while. I’ll be right back.”
“Not promising that these will still be here,” she said, putting another cookie in her mouth.
I crutched along the wood floor toward the back of the house, pausing when I got to the bathroom door. I knocked. “Izzie?” She didn’t answer so I called her name again. Nothing. My muscles began to tense as worry rushed through me. I tried the knob, but the door was locked. Oh, no!
“Leona!” I yelled.
Leona came running in from the kitchen, her eyes wide with fear. “What’s
wrong?”
“She locked herself in there.”
“Shit.” Leona pounded on the door. “Izzie, open up!”
I let my crutches fall to the floor as I gripped the doorframe. What if she’d hurt herself? “Izzie,” I called. “Please let us in.” I should have gone with her to rinse out her hair. She had to be okay.
Suddenly, there was a clicking noise, and I looked down to the door handle turning. Thank heavens! For a split second, I’d thought that something terrible had happened. The relief I had now only confirmed that I needed to get Izzie help. I’d have to call her parents.
“Freaking hell,” Leona murmured, stepping back as the door started to open. She exhaled heavily, obviously as scared as I was.
“Izzie,” I called, waiting for her. “Don’t do that again. I was so worried about—” I gasped.
She was standing there, a white towel wrapped around her shoulders and metal scissors in her hand. Her face was blotchy from crying. My stomach dropped.
“What have you done?” Leona murmured. Because Izzie’s long, red curls had been snipped up to her chin.
From: Joel Fletcher <[email protected]>
To: Tessa Crimson <[email protected]>
Sent: Sat, October 12, 12:26 PM
Subject: Random thoughts
I’m guessing you’re busy again? It’s cool. I’m starting to get used to it. So … I was thinking—any chance you’d like to make this official? Like, I don’t know, maybe think about being my girlfriend?
Yes. I’m asking you out in an e-mail. I’m that desperate, Tessa. Call me back!
Joel