chapter 5
“Tessa?”
My mother’s voice hummed in my ear. My eyelids fluttered, and when I opened them, she was there, stress painting her face in shades of gray. Which wasn’t vibrant at all, I decided.
“Mom? They said they couldn’t get a hold of you.”
“We were going over the bridge, and you know how spotty reception is there. But we called the second we heard and raced over here. We nearly got a ticket.”
“Your mother drives like a maniac.”
I looked over to see my dad grinning in a chair in the corner. Of course, my mother rarely drove when they went out so I knew he was just teasing. My father was known to get tickets occasionally. Occasionally enough that the local sheriff called him Smokey and the Bandit. Which I totally didn’t get! My dad didn’t smoke. And who the hay was the Bandit? He sounded mean.
Just then Dr. Lewis strolled in, a clipboard and papers in his hand. He explained to my parents about the clean break and how I’d have to come back to get it cast because the orthopedic doctor wasn’t there and that I might require surgery.
Surgery! That was not a good sign. I had tryouts to watch over (and a captainship to hang on to). How could I properly prep us for ESPN and deal with the fallout of SOS exposure if I was having surgery? It would be a tragedy of epic proportions.
The doctor said he’d consult with the surgeon, and my mother alternated between oh, my Gods and damn its, which seemed to really contrast each other.
Wait. Was … was Aiden here? Did I dream that? I looked over to my father, and when he caught my eye, he smiled. “What is it, honey?”
“Was Aiden here?” My voice lowered at his name. My father’s eyebrows pulled together behind his glasses. At first, I wasn’t sure he was going to answer, but then he cleared his throat and spoke.
“Um … he was. Yep.”
I waited. He averted my eyes. “And? Is he still here?” Not that I wanted to see him. I was just curious.
“No. No, when we got here, he said he had to get back up to school. Guess one of the boys had called him about the accident. He came to check on you.”
“Oh.” I wondered what else he’d said. If he’d apologized to my father, or left a message for me. But I didn’t want to look like I cared. Because I didn’t. That part of my life was over, and my hairdresser had suggested that when I thought about Aiden and it hurt, I should think about something happy instead. So … uh … Unicorns. Yes, unicorns raced on rainbows and had flowers in their manes and granted wishes and—
“You ready?” My happy thought was interrupted by my mother as she shuffled almost a dozen papers and pamphlets in her hands.
I nodded, still feeling a little high. Man. Those drugs were definitely strong. In fact, I think I might have called Aiden my … I stopped, unicorns popping in my head. But I moved them aside and wondered what he thought when I’d called him my boyfriend. If he smiled his beautiful smile. If his gorgeous green eyes filled with tears. If he said he loved me.
“I got you crutches,” my father said, reaching behind the chair to pick them up off the floor. “I figured you wouldn’t be happy going to school in the wheelchair.”
“No. The gymnasium isn’t handicap accessible yet.” I was distracted, but with the help of my mother, I climbed off the table. I was suddenly helpless, and for me, that was not a good feeling. Not at all.
When we got home, there were, like, eight hundred messages on the phone. Some from concerned squad members and some vulgar ones from fellow students.
My father’s eyes grew more and more concerned with each passing message.
Beep. “You’re in a world of hurt, Crimson. You’re lucky I don’t call the f*cking cops.”
Beep. “I have to admit, I appreciated the help SOS gave me, but to think it was you? Totally weird. I mean, we have language arts together. You knew all that stuff about me and never said anything. I thought SOS was part of the CIA or something. Not a freaking cheerleader. Whatever.”
Beep. “You and your girls are going down—”
My father shut off the machine and rubbed roughly at his forehead before slipping off his glasses and putting them on the granite kitchen countertop.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We didn’t mean to—”
“Tessa, when you informed us last year about the spying, we were disappointed. We told you that investigating your fellow students was unethical, and I thought we all agreed that you were done with it.” He paused, glancing down at my ankle.
“Wait, did your injury have something to do with SOS? I thought it was a cheerleading accident.” My father’s cheeks were quickly turning red, and I had a feeling that I might be in a bit of hot water.
After Chloe had attacked me and Aiden dumped me last year, I’d told my parents everything. I told them all about the missions and the SOS motto. I even told them how it had ruined my life. And, yes, technically I did promise that it wouldn’t happen again. But I thought that since we were better organized and more mature now, it’d be okay. Wait, was his eye twitching?
“Well?”
“I was with cheerleaders. So it was sort of a cheerleading accident.”
“You were spying!” My father’s voice bordered on raised, and for him that was very rare—or rather, nonexistent.
“Yes, but—”
He held up his hand to stop me. His cheeks were flush, and I was glad my mother was in the shower. I didn’t think I could handle both of them being angry with me right now.
After a second of his silence (and my guilt), my father sighed. “Listen,” he said, almost apologetically. “Let’s not tell your mother that you’re spying again. She’d be very upset, and I don’t like seeing her unhappy. I try to protect both of you—even though you’ve been making that tough lately.” He reached to put his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m really sorry,” I murmured. “But we’re just trying to help the brokenhearted of Washington County. Those girls need us, Dad.”
My father’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Tessa, I know your heart is always in the right place. It’s your ankle I’m worried about.”
“Touché.”
He dropped his arm and glanced at the phone resting on the counter. “Do you need me to the call the school, or set up some sort of protection for you?”
I laughed. I could just imagine my father showing up in a black suit, like my own personal secret service agent. I suddenly worried that if things didn’t improve quickly, he might pull me out of school altogether. I couldn’t imagine. I was pretty sure the homeschooling community didn’t have a cheer squad.
“It’ll blow over.” I waved at him reassuringly. Did I believe that? It seemed pretty flipping unlikely. But graduation was only … eight months away. I slunk into the kitchen chair and rested my chin in my hands. Someone had ruined my life. Uh, again.
“What do we do, Dad?”
He exhaled heavily. “Seems you have two choices.”
Oh, good. Multiple choice!
“You can cower and hide, run away from the mess. Or you can accept responsibility and try to apologize. And to be honest, after the vulgarity of these messages, I’m leaning toward cowering.” He pressed his lips into a smile. My father knew I would never run away from a problem. Well, unless its name was Aiden.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You just be careful. If things get too hard, you need to let us know. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Tess. You already have a broken ankle. I think that’s punishment enough. So don’t beat yourself up.”
I nodded. My father picked up his glasses and slid them back on before turning off the ringer on the phone. As he started to walk toward the bedroom, I couldn’t take the curiosity anymore.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Did Aiden say anything about me?” My heart immediately began to race, scared of his answer and not sure what I wanted to hear. I just had to hear something.
My father looked at the wood floor, then back up at me. “He didn’t have to say anything. The worry on his face was enough. He still loves you, Tess. I think you should keep that in mind as you”—he furrowed his brow—“start dating again.”
Warmth spread from my chest up to my face, making my eyes tingle and begin to water. He thought Aiden still loved me. I wondered if it could be true.
My father rubbed at his mouth but said nothing of my reaction. After a second, he lifted his chin to me. “Good night, honey.”
“Night.” I sniffled and watched him walk away. When he was gone, I looked down at the tablecloth and picked at the linen.
Unicorns. Unicorns. Unicorns.
“Wow, that’s a pretty massive cast,” Leona said, knocking on it once and tilting her head toward the hollow sound.
“Um, ouch.” The doctor had called to say that surgery wasn’t needed, leaving me completely relieved. And when I called Leona, she and Izzie decided to come over and check out my new equipment (meaning my cast and crutches). We’d all agreed to skip our morning classes and take a half day. Partly because we were exhausted, but mostly because we were stalling. There might be a mob waiting for us at the stone steps of Washington High.
“I brought sparkles,” Izzie spoke up from the other side of the living room. I smiled at her, but something was off. Izzie definitely didn’t look sparkly. In fact, her hair was knotted toward the ends, and dark circles ringed her eyes.
“Thanks, Iz. Everything okay?”
She seemed alarmed by the question. “Fine. I’m fine.”
She blinked quickly, and I recognized that she was lying. Her eyebrows always did a weird shaking thing when she wasn’t telling the truth. She certainly wasn’t fine. I glanced at Leona, and she met my eyes immediately, the same concerned expression on her face.
“Izzie?” she asked. “Is there something going on that you need to talk to us about?”
“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, her normally soft features hardening.
My mouth fell open with surprise. Whoa. That was completely uncalled for. I shot another look at Leona, and she shrugged in a this-is-way-beyond-my-expertise sort of way. Izzie’s behavior would need some investigation. But first, we had to get a handle on our other problems. Namely, who turned us in.
“Have you heard any chatter?” I asked Leona, adjusting my leg to rest on the cluttered coffee table.
“Nada. It seems that all of my sources have dried up now that we’ve been exposed. Turns out lots of people thought they were dealing with ‘professionals.’”
“Professional what?”
“Detectives? I’m not sure. But as far as I can tell from the small bits of info I’ve gathered, the leak did not come from within the SOS.”
Izzie let out a relieved sigh, and we looked over. Her mouth twitched with a smile. “That’s good, right?” she said quickly.
“Uh, yeah.” Leona widened her eyes. “Pretty sure that goes without saying.” She turned her attention back to me. “We need to lay out a suspect list.” She reached down to fish her hand through her black leather purse before pulling out a small notebook and clicking her pen. “Number one,” she said. “Aiden Wilder.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What? Why would you suspect Aiden?” I wasn’t sure if I should be offended. Aiden might have slept with Mary Rudick, but I wouldn’t believe that he’d hurt me like this.
Leona tsked. “He’s a suspect, Tess. He knows about us. He knows the team. And let’s face it, ruining your social life is in his best interest.”
My fingers began to shake so I folded them carefully into my lap. She was wrong, but I had to be objective. If I wasn’t, she might start to question my leadership skills, and right now, I needed to be strong. “Suspect number two,” I said firmly. “Chloe Ferril.”
Leona laughed. “You always blame her. I don’t think she’d try out for the squad if she planned on destroying it.”
“She could be trying to cover her tracks.”
“True.” She scribbled on her pad, and we both looked to Izzie. She was staring out the window, not even paying attention.
“Iz?” I asked.
She looked over, startled. “I didn’t do it,” she said defensively. She reached up to absently tug at her snarled curls.
“I know,” I said slowly, exchanging another concerned glance with Leona. “Just wondering if you had a suspect for the list.”
“Oh. No, I don’t.” She turned away and went back to gazing out the window. I swallowed hard. Her behavior had become increasing erratic the last few days. I was seriously worried.
“I’ll add some of our ex-clients and maybe even Christian,” Leona said.
I tensed at the sound of his name. It’d been months since I’d seen the guy who had almost broken up Aiden and me. But I didn’t really suspect him. He seemed to have moved on, especially since he was taking classes at the community college now.
“By the way,” Leona added, still writing in her notepad, “I don’t want to get all mopey and talk about it, but Chris broke up with my voice mail last night. I didn’t want there to be any confusion at school.”
I gasped, but she waved me off.
“Let’s just say he didn’t appreciate SOS’s personal involvement in private situations. But imagine that in Neanderthal jock language.”
“Tragic,” I murmured. Leona and Chris were peanut butter and fluff together, but if he was going Stone Age on her, it was a good thing they broke up. She deserved better.
Then it hit me. Joel! What would he think about my spying? I was too distressed to call him last night, and now I didn’t know if he hated me!
My breathing sped up as I stared back at Leona. “Joel,” I said. She nodded before dropping her notepad back in her purse.
“He probably won’t be stoked.”
“Sugar. You’re right.” I considered my options. I could call him and try to explain, or I could show up at school, all brave and on crutches (increasing the sympathy factor). Definitely the crutches. I’d need all the help I could get.
“Izzie,” I said, pulling her out from her zombie daze. “Are you ready to bust out those sparkles? Today requires a little extra shine.”
Her face brightened as if she’d just woken up. “Definitely. It’s time for an injury makeover.” She grinned as she stood to get her supplies.
I felt relieved seeing Izzie acting more like herself. Then again, makeovers made everyone happy. They were like magic.
Leona sighed. “I’ll get the glue gun and sequins.” Well, except for Leona. She found them a bit tedious.
As I watched her walk toward the kitchen, I worried. I wasn’t sure a well-accessorized cast could make up for the fact that the school hated us. Or that I might lose my captainship because of my injury status. Heck, even Joel might turn his back on me today.
And then there was the matter of ESPN. I groaned, resting into the couch. I hoped Leona and Izzie brought extra sparkles.
From: Joel Fletcher <[email protected]>
To: Tessa Crimson <[email protected]>
Sent: Tues, October 8, 8:00 AM
Subject: I’m worried!
God, woman! Are you okay or not? I’m not at school today, so if you’re around call me. I’m out of my mind with worry.
Oh, and yeah. I miss you or something like that. :-)
Joel