Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘So, Zoe, Felix tells me you might be leaving next year. Prentiss is a good school, but it’s very far away from your mother,’ Mr Fong said. ‘Why did you decide to leave?’


‘I think we’ve established that her answer is “Because Daddy wants me to,”’ Digby said.

‘You’re going to Prentiss? Who’s your father? Is he somebody? He’s not … rich or … connected, is he?’ It was more than Sloane wanted to contemplate.

‘No …’ Given some time, I might’ve come up with a decent enough lie to freak her out, but my shoes pinched and I was sweating under my headband.

Sloane started angrily texting. ‘That’s it. This is ridiculous. Literally everyone but me is going to private school now.’

‘So, Mr Fong, Felix mentioned you’re a chemist?’ I said.

‘I have doctorates in analytical chemistry and neurochemistry, but I find myself working on nanotechnology these days. Life is a box of chocolates!’ Mr Fong threw up his hands and knocked over his soda, but Henry caught it before it hit the table. ‘You never know what you’re going to get.’

Sloane gaped at a glob of Coke that came incredibly close to splashing her glove.

‘So, if I gave you, say, a pill, could you analyze it and figure out if it was produced at the same place as another pill?’ Digby said.

‘Ah … that’s the work of a forensic chemist,’ Mr Fong said.

‘But anyone with a gas spectrometer could do it,’ Felix said.

‘Well, I could do it, but why would I? It wouldn’t optimize my skill set,’ Mr Fong said.

‘Wait! Digby, do you have another sample to compare with the drugs I bought?’ Felix said.

‘You bought drugs?’ Mr Fong said.

‘Um … no, it’s nothing. We’re kidding,’ Felix said. ‘Hey, my soda looks funny.’

‘Their fountain probably dispenses too much syrup … Come on, people, it’s not as though we’re asking you to synthesize Acetabularia Rhodopsin II. Let’s see.’ Mr Fong sipped from Felix’s glass. ‘Yech! That’s awful. It tastes … fishy?’

‘Oh, gross. Something’s floating around in it,’ Sloane said.

‘Is that a loogie?’ Bill said.

Mr Fong looked and slammed down the drink, horrified.

‘It’s a clam! It’s a clam!’ Mr Fong said.

‘It’s okay, Mr Fong, I’m sure they’ll get you another soda,’ I said.

‘I’m allergic to shellfish! I need to get to the ER! I need to get to the ER!’ Mr Fong said.

I remembered the orientation session Felix gave me for using his EpiPen. ‘Mr Fong! I have Felix’s EpiPen.’ I got the EpiPen out of my clutch bag.

Instead of being happy to see it, Mr Fong jumped out of his chair and screamed, ‘No! No! No needles!’

‘He’s phobic.’ Felix took out his phone and dialed 911.

Meanwhile, Digby and Henry tried to catch Mr Fong, who was running around the restaurant screeching.

‘Sir, you’re scaring our customers,’ the waitress said.

‘No good, no good! I need a professional! I need a doctor!’ Mr Fong faked left past Henry and ran out the door.

‘It’s okay, everyone, I’ll get him,’ Felix said.

Felix ran out, leaving the rest of us in shock.

‘This is nice,’ Digby said. ‘We should get together more often.’

Felix came back a few minutes later, surprisingly calm.

‘Is he okay?’ I said.

‘Oh, yeah. His lips hadn’t even started swelling yet. We crossed paths with the ambulance a block from here,’ Felix said.

‘Felix, if both you and your dad are allergic to shellfish, why did you choose Red Lobster?’ I said.

‘Oh, we’re also allergic to peanuts, gluten, citrus, dairy, and soy, so pretty much every restaurant’s a death trap. Not to mention the non-food stuff that could kill us … bees, latex, penicillin,’ Felix said. ‘By the way, you guys, you’re welcome.’

‘For what?’ Digby said.

Felix pointed at my plate. A clam in the clams casino I hadn’t started eating yet was just an empty shell.

‘Felix. No,’ I said. ‘How? I didn’t even see you touch my plate.’

‘Just like you didn’t see the flowers I didn’t forget?’ Felix reached behind my ears and a bouquet of silk flowers appeared in his hand. ‘Shazzam.’

When I took it from Felix, the bouquet’s handle caught in the trick holder hidden up his sleeve.

‘Is that why you’re wearing a cape? Because of magic?’ Sloane said.

‘I’m wearing my cape because it looks good,’ Felix said.

‘You think that looks good? You look like Count Chocula,’ Sloane said.

That crossed the line. Felix looked hurt and that pissed me off.

‘And you look like one of your mother’s rat dogs crawled up on your neck and died when your perfume hit it. Doesn’t matter how much it costs, Sloane,’ I said. ‘When you wear too much, it just smells like roach spray.’

‘Oh, shut up. You can’t talk to me about dead animals when you’re sitting on an entire flock of turkeys,’ Sloane said.

‘Ooooh … meow,’ Bill said.