Trouble is a Friend of Mine

Digby pointed at my blue Prentiss shirt. ‘But I don’t know how focused he’ll be on our work with all this hotness going on.’


‘Hotness? This ugly thing?’

‘You know nothing about the way the male mind works,’ he said. ‘Are you blushing?’

‘Of course not.’

‘When Sally disappeared, it was like a fog came down in my house. We walked around, bumping into each other, no one talking. I’d ask my mother a question and she’d just look right through me. I used to get so angry,’ Digby said. ‘Even at the time, I knew I was being selfish. I mean, obviously, they were just … wrapped up in what happened to Sally.’

‘But you were, what? Seven years old?’ I said.

‘Anyway, one of the few useful things I learned while I was getting my head shrunk is that when you get rejected a lot, you start to hear rejection all the time, everywhere, even when there hasn’t been any rejection. And here’s something else she told me that you need to remember … after the rejection comes shame. Like how thunder always follows lightning. You don’t always hear it, but it’s always there, so deal with it or it’ll build up and destroy you,’ Digby said.

‘So what are you saying I should do? How did you get over it?’

‘I never said I did,’ Digby said. ‘But I also learned that just because my mother occasionally shows up in my wet dreams, it doesn’t mean I’m a psycho. That part’s less useful for you, though.’

I was starting to recover and my heartbeat was coming back down to normal, but now my mind was post-gaming and just like Digby said I would, I felt embarrassed.

‘It gets better, Princeton.’





TWENTY


As planned, I borrowed Mom’s pantsuit and met up with Digby and Henry the next day outside Marina’s house, a huge mansion in a neighborhood called The Gates. Physically, it was behind my neighborhood, but spiritually, it was a universe away.

The Miller mansion was a big ivy-covered brick building that looked like something on a college campus. An expensive college that gave freshmen laptops.

‘This is her house?’ I said. ‘How many people live in it?’

‘Her parents … her half sister. Live-in help,’ Henry said.

‘What was she doing in public school?’ I said.

‘She got expelled from private school,’ Henry said.

‘Besides, this is Marina’s stepmother’s pile. She’s the rich one. Maybe she didn’t like her stepdaughter enough to pay for tuition,’ Digby said before dialing on his phone and walking away, saying, ‘I need to place an order …’

‘I heard Digby got you to go to the dance with Felix,’ Henry said.

‘Did you hear why?’ I said.

‘Yeah … it’s too bad. Wendy’s nice,’ Henry said. ‘You know, back in the lab, I thought Digby was asking you to the dance.’

‘How weird would that have been? Me and Digby … posing for the formal photos …’

‘Totally weird,’ Henry said. ‘Wait, does that mean you would’ve said yes?’

Strange. Thinking of Digby that way was … well, not exactly unpleasant, I guess. Definitely unsettling, though.

‘I guess you’re going with Sloane?’ I knew he was. After all this time hanging out with Henry, I was surprised to find that I still minded.

‘I’d invite you guys to dinner with us, but …’ Henry said.

‘She hates me?’ I said.

‘Not just you. Digby too.’

‘That’s cool. It’d be weird anyway.’

‘So weird,’ Henry said.

Digby came back to the conversation. ‘What would be weird?’

‘If we all went to the dance together,’ I said.

‘Oh, no, Felix has something special planned. He sent me photos of the restaurant he’s taking you to. He even highlighted the fire exits,’ Digby said.

‘Wow … he’s pretty excited. He probably thinks he’s going to get lucky or something,’ Henry said.

‘But he’s not her type. Princeton likes them …’ Digby said. ‘Heroic? Is that the word?’

‘Douche. That’s a word too,’ I said.

‘Okay, that’s enough wordplay for today. We have a mission. Somewhere in that huge house is a clue to where Marina is,’ Digby said. ‘Maybe. Probably. Well, you never know until you try.’

‘Great,’ I said.

Digby took a camera out of his backpack and handed it to Henry. ‘You’re Brandon Spano and you’re taking photos for a special article in our school paper.’ To me, Digby said, ‘You’re Brianna Wick and you’re my editor. I’m Taylor Berry and I’m writing the article. Taylor, Brianna, and Brandon. Got it? I’ll do the talking. Princeton, just hang back and put on your sourpuss face.’

‘Sourpuss face? What sourpuss face?’ I said.

‘That’s perfect,’ Digby said.

‘This is just my face,’ I said.

Digby rang the bell. It didn’t faze me anymore listening to Digby spin his little webs. We were with the school paper? Sure. Writing an article? Why not?