I didn’t feel like leaving my room. All I wanted was to climb under my covers and try not to think about Teddy’s face in that bag, and the last words I’d spoken to Posie. But my stomach growled at me. I thumbed through the syllabus on my desk and grumbled, “Throw in a Coke?”
“Adding caffeine to your growing list of vices?” Anh chided. “Fine. I’ll stop at Bao’s and pick up chocolate and soda. And if your arteries haven’t spontaneously combusted by then, you can meet me at the library in an hour, where I expect to hear all the gory details of your scandalous affair with Mr. Scary Hot New Guy.”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes, as if she could hear it through the phone. I was getting ready to hang up when something occurred to me. “Hey, Anh. What do the numbers ten, eighteen, three, and five have in common?”
Anh was quiet for a moment. I couldn’t hear anything but the rattle and drone of the small rusting air conditioner ducttaped to the frame of my window. “No idea. I need more information.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.” Even if I wasn’t any closer to solving the numbers, at least I didn’t feel as stupid as I had a moment ago. Anh couldn’t see a connection either. I could only hope the next ad would reveal the missing link. And that I wouldn’t be too late to solve it.
I said good-bye to Anh, got dressed, and packed up my books. When I grabbed my hoodie off the back of my desk chair, something crinkled in the pocket. The torn page from the hospital log book still smelled like the inside of Reece’s jacket. I should have destroyed it or flushed it down the toilet, but I looked around my room for a place to hide it instead. I reached under my mattress and withdrew the plastic bag. It was the one place Mona was sure to avoid.
I put the hospital log sheet inside it, adding it to the old photo of my dads’ poker club. A mystery for another day. I shoved them all under the mattress. This week was all about being normal. Laying low. I threw my backpack over my shoulder and recited the rules that would get me through the next six days: No bad grades, no trouble, and no touching.
? ? ?
I’d wanted to get to Rankin’s class early on Monday, but that didn’t happen. I was still in purgatory. Jeremy hadn’t picked me up and I didn’t want to call Reece for a ride. Despite my best efforts, our kiss had landed him in suspension for another week and I didn’t need to give Romero one more reason to expel him. Reece had given me an alibi and confiscated the evidence from the hospital. I was safe at least for now. I just needed to keep a level head. To be on time when attendance was taken, and to be as shocked as everyone else when the rest of the school figured out that the unnamed minor found murdered in the planetarium was Teddy Marshall, and that Posie was dead too.
A reporter stood on the front steps of the school, holding a microphone and talking into a TV camera. School security guards and police flanked the front doors, and I slipped in with the last of the students to arrive.
Inside the lobby, a line of parents waited to speak with administration, talking animatedly to each other about emergency PTA meetings and the need for increased security at school events. The secretaries politely nudged them out of the office, telling them they’d have to schedule an appointment to speak with Principal Romero.
I dodged around the tail of the line and headed to my first class, trying not to notice the red personal safety flyers on every bulletin board I passed.
I flew into the chem lab as the second bell blared. No time to check Friday’s test scores, or the rankings for the week. Curious heads turned and followed me to my seat. Anh sat hunched over, her face uncharacteristically pale. She didn’t look at me when I sat down. My test lay facedown on the desk. I took a deep breath, turned it over, and felt Anh’s eyes dart to the score circled on top.
103%. A yellow sticky note beside it read: “Please meet Kylie Rutherford at 2:45pm today. You will be tutoring her in geometry through Thursday.”
I stifled a strange involuntary noise.
“Congratulations, Miss Boswell.” Rankin’s back was to the class as he copied the day’s homework on the blackboard. “You and Mr. Petrenko both achieved perfect scores on this exam. You both also solved the extra credit question.” He slapped his hands together, a cloud of chalk dust fanning out as he turned to address the class. “It was quite a puzzle. I must say, I was rather impressed.”
I rotated my head slowly toward Oleksa’s table. He reclined in his seat, assuming his usual I-couldn’t-give-a-shit slouch. His test scores wouldn’t be enough to sway the rankings. His lab partner was hopeless, he’d never completed a homework assignment, and his attendance was sketchy at best.