"We tried," protested Jill. "I told you. She just got mad the more we talked."
"Well, I can understand that," I snapped. "Look, I'm sorry something weird is going on with her. And I don't want her in trouble, believe me. But there's only so much hand-holding I can do with her. I fixed her math problem. My job is to make sure she stays in school and doesn't blow your cover. Everything else is extraneous, and I just don't have time for that. And if she wouldn't talk to you, why on earth do you think she'd talk to me?"
I'd spoken a bit more harshly than I intended. I really did care about them all. I also didn't want trouble in the group. Nonetheless, it was always a little frustrating when they came to me with dramas like this, as though I were their mother. They were some of the smartest, most competent people I knew. They didn't need me, and Angeline was no criminal genius. Figuring out her motives couldn't be that difficult.
Neither one of them had an immediate response for me. "You just always seem to get through to people," Jill said at last. "You're good at communication."
That certainly wasn't a compliment I heard very often. "I don't do anything special. I'm just persistent. Keep trying, and maybe you'll get through." Seeing Jill start to protest, I added, "Please. Don't ask me to do this right now. You both know I've got a lot going on."
I gave each of them a meaningful look. Both knew about Marcus, and Jill also knew about Ms. Terwilliger's sister. After a few moments, that knowledge set in, and they both looked a little embarrassed.
Eddie gave Jill a gentle nudge. "She's right. We should keep working on Angeline ourselves."
"Okay," said Jill. My relief was short-lived. "We'll try a little more. Then, if it still doesn't work, Sydney can step in."
I groaned.
When I parted ways from them later, I couldn't help but think again about Marcus's comments in San Bernardino about how Alchemists got caught up in menial tasks. I tried to reassure myself that Jill and Eddie would take care of this on their own, meaning I wouldn't actually have to intervene. Presuming, of course, Angeline really wasn't planning something catastrophic.
Unfortunately, those doubts were soon shaken when I got on the shuttle that would take me to main campus. On weekends, there was only one bus that looped between all buildings, and this one had just picked up at the boys' dorm. I found Trey sitting in it, staring out the window with a happy expression. When he saw me, his smile vanished.
"Hey," I said, taking a seat beside him. He actually looked nervous. "Off to study?"
"Meeting with Angeline, actually."
There was no escaping her today, but at least if she was working on math, it seemed unlikely she'd be staging a coup or committing arson. His troubled expression concerned me, though.
"She . . . she didn't hit you again?" I didn't see any noticeable marks, but with her, you could never tell.
"Huh? No, no. Not recently." He hesitated before speaking again. "Melbourne, how long are you going to need me to do this?"
"I don't know." Mostly I'd been focusing on getting her through the present, not the future. One thing at a time. "She'll have her final coming up before break. If she passes, then I guess you're home free. Unless you want to keep up with it after break - I mean, provided she doesn't wear you out."
This startled him a lot more than I would have expected. "Okay. Good to know."
He looked so forlorn when he left to go to the library that I wondered if those chemistry answers had really been worth it. I liked Trey. I'd never thought inflicting Angeline on him would so radically alter his life. I guessed that was just the kind of effect she had on the world.
I watched him walk away for a few more seconds and then turned toward the science building. One of the teachers, Ms. Whittaker, was an amateur botanist who was always happy to supply Ms. Terwilliger with various plants and herbs. She thought Ms. Terwilliger used them for home craft projects, like potpourri and candles, and I frequently had to pick up the latest supplies. When I walked into her classroom today, Ms. Whittaker was grading exams at her desk.
"Hi, Sydney," she said, barely looking up. "I set it all over there, on the far counter."
"Thanks, ma'am."
I walked over and was surprised to practically find a spice cabinet. Ms. Terwilliger had requested all sorts of leaves, stems, and clippings. It was the most I'd ever had to pick up for her.
"She sure had a big order this time," Ms. Whittaker remarked, as though sensing my thoughts. "Is she really using garlic in potpourri?"
"Oh, that's for some, um, cooking she's doing. You know, holidays and all."