Alice in Wonderland High (13 page)

My smile threatened to drop, but I had good reflexes. Still, I couldn't get out a confident
yes.

“What?” Kingston smirked at me. “Katz got your tongue?”

The heat sweeping through my cheeks was a good match for the sweat crowning my forehead at Whitney's reference to future missions. And then her words caught up to me. There
would
be future missions. I was in the group! It took all my stored willpower and a few aching muscles to keep from doing a victory dance. “I'm ready for anything.”

I'd procrastinate on worrying about the dangerous future missions tomorrow. Today, I had great next-pectations.

The next day in gym, I didn't get a chance to share more than a smile and a wave—that Kingston intercepted—with Chess because the teachers conspired against us and separated our classes into different Presidential Fitness tasks. I desperately wanted to hear about the mission. Did the family move in? Were the police onto us? I'd have to try to pry info out of Lorina after work.

If she ever talked to me again, that is. She hadn't waited up for me when I got home, which only made me feel as icky as the dirt encrusting my hands from the reforesting. I wanted to take that as a good sign—after all, if she didn't wait up, she couldn't punish me—but I was never good at reading the signs or anything else that didn't come from a textbook.

Before lunch, I stopped at my locker and found a note inside.
Follow the creek into the center of the forest at afternoon tea time.

A thrill shuddered through me. My next mission?

A quick Google search on my phone during lunch led to learning English tea time was held between three and five
P.M.
I decided to split the difference and go with four. I practically danced in my seat during my last class, my eyes flirting with the clock's hands. The smile stayed plastered on my face, like I had some silly secret I could barely keep to myself. Di kept eyeing me but didn't press it any further. She and Dru were too busy mourning Quinn's temporary absence from class.

After I double-checked the area to make sure no one could see me, I slipped out the back of the school and traced the contour of the creek. A few paces into the woods I came across the ruined dam, now covered with spray paint. “Neverland rules!” and “Homecoming. It's on.”

Fifteen minutes later, a sharp, burnt-herb scent filtered toward me, unnatural for the forest. As I kept walking, the scent grew stronger, and then a shape came into focus. My stomach dropped when the shape started to resemble Kingston, complete with a fedora concealing his shaved head.

I slowed my pace, craning my neck looking for Chess or Whitney. I tried not to make my movements too sudden, but his head snapped up anyway. A slow, Grinch-like smile spread over his face.

Had he left me the note or were the others coming later, late as usual? Hoping for the latter, I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and plowed toward him. Even if this was Kingston's doing, I was a little curious about why he'd gone through so much trouble to set up this private meeting.

He sat cross-legged on a large rock, a green, blown-glass tube in front of him. The tube spread out into a bulbous sphere at the base, with a stopper extending in the opposite direction from the tube. Keeping his eyes on me, he dipped his head and pressed his lips around the mouth of the tube. He flicked his lighter onto the stopper. Bubbles boiled inside the base. His chest contracted, staying concave for a few moments. Then he blew out a puff of smoke in my face.

I coughed, recalling the first riddle Whitney had given me. Marijuana. It certainly didn't smell like cigarette smoke.

“Who are
you?
” Kingston's eyelids drooped over his red-rimmed eyes. “What do you want from us?”

I blinked at him.
This
was why he had made me come out here? “What am I doing here?” I crossed my arms.

“You're gonna give me some answers.”

My blood stilled. We were alone, in the middle of the woods, and no one knew where I was. But I couldn't let Kingston see that fear and use it against me. He would be counting on that. So I forced myself to act like Whitney: aloof and unafraid. I lifted my chin. “I don't think you're very good at seeing the future.”

“I see the present fine, though.” He curled his legs beneath him. “In fact, I see you don't really have a good reason to join up with us. Well, except for your little crush, but I hope you're not that pathetic.”

A million reasons why I wanted to join bottled up in my throat. Each one pegged me as desperate. If Whitney were faced with the same problem, she'd spit a riddle in his face, her confidence unaffected. I stole a page from her playbook.

“That's nonsense. Nothing's what it is, because everything is what it isn't. And contrariwise”—Ugh, hopefully it would never get back to Di and Dru that I'd stolen their favorite word—“what it is, it can't be. And what it can't be, it could. So there.” Okay, maybe I needed to leave the riddles to Whitney.

He blinked at me.

I sighed and added, “Whitney and Chess seem to accept me anyway. I think I've proven I'm not going to rat you out.”

“Doesn't matter. I don't trust you.”

“Then why are you smoking pot in front of me?” I rested one hand on my hip. “We both know this isn't about trust. Perhaps
you
should explain yourself.”

He shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

With Kingston, I couldn't be sure his reasons were logical. I shook my head. “Whatever.” Clearly he was trying to intimidate me and make me uncomfortable by smoking pot in my face. “I don't have time for this.” I turned around and started back the way I had come.

He slithered off the rock and cut me off. “That's where you're wrong.” He grabbed my shoulder. “You have all the time in the world.” His nails dug into my skin as he shook his watch in front of my face with his other arm.

I froze in place. Would he really hurt me? Out here with no one to rescue me?

“You can't leave yet!” he said. “You're gonna hear me out. It's important.” He let go of my shoulder, and I stumbled backward. A twig snapped beneath my foot.

I rubbed my shoulder and stifled a sob.

“Overreact much? Chill out and keep your temper.”

“You're one to talk.” I waited for him to continue, but nothing else came. “Is that all?” My fists were clenched at my sides. I wanted to disobey rules, not follow them, and I especially didn't want to follow Kingston's.

“No.” Kingston walked back to the rock and inserted the tube into his mouth.

He blew out another puff of smoke, lifting his lower lip above his upper lip. “Want some?” He held the bong out to me.

“No, thanks, I'm good.”

His lips curled into a half-smile. “See? You proved my point.”

“That I don't do drugs? Submit to peer pressure? Share with strangers? Take your pick.”

“You're not ready for the dangerous stuff,” he said. “You think we only go around decorating buildings with flowers?”

“No,” I admitted. I already knew some of the other stuff they did or were planning. Blacking out the entire school wasn't exactly a minor infraction. And I knew the township wouldn't have gone through the trouble of putting together a committee to stop people who went around giving out free landscaping.

“I don't know why we're even bothering anymore. All these flowers.” He waved his hand at the forest surrounding us. “They're just going to be destroyed. Wither and die. We can't keep impossibilities alive.”

“That's very poetic of you.”

“This isn't about poetry. It's about reality. Ever wonder why we don't want you going in that basement? How we fund our missions?” He tapped the bong.

I groaned. So they
were
growing pot. And selling it. Or at least Kingston was. I had to hope the others weren't involved, because Whitney had defined Kingston's job as providing the funds. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Do you approve?' Cause you really don't have a choice.” He broke into a coughing fit, which I thought was from the pot, but he hadn't taken a drag in a while. He pulled a clear bag out of his pocket filled with what looked like dried mushrooms. He popped one in his mouth and closed his eyes, chewing. Great, now he was shrooming, too. At least being high might explain his usual psychobabble.

“Why are you telling me this?” I repeated. “If you don't trust me.”

Kingston set the bag of mushrooms down and rummaged through the pockets of his leather jacket. “I trust you with this because if word spreads, these photos get emailed to the whole school.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and thrust it at me.

I held the paper with shaky hands. Two photos were printed on it: one of me on the roof last night, the other of me wrecking the dam in the creek. I'd told Whitney when I would carry out the mission, and she'd been first on the scene to pull me out of the creek. But maybe Kingston—and Chess?—had stayed behind to cover it all up, watching me through the shadow of the trees. Kingston
had
come from the direction of the woods when he'd joined me after Whitney's rescue.

“So I'm not worried you'll tell anyone about this.” He tapped the bong with his fingernail. “There are other secrets I want to protect more.” As if suddenly remembering something, he let out a small gasp, snatched the mushrooms up, and stuffed them back in his pocket. “Which brings me to my next demand.” His dark eyes held mine. “Stay away from us.
All
of us. That includes your whipped boy toy. Or my finger might accidentally hit send.”

My throat got tight. All the doors in front of me slammed shut. The look on Kingston's face was so menacing, I inched backward, ready to run away and give in to his demands. He watched me, so still, like he didn't dare breathe. And in that stare, I saw opportunity. “You think I'm a threat,” I whispered, testing out the words. Then, I repeated them louder, more confidently.

“You are to me,” he said. Not as forceful or demanding as before.

I eyed him. “Why?”

We stared at each other for a long time. He broke away first.

“You're not like us.”

The words sounded false, like an excuse, covering the real truth of why I threatened him. “You don't know anything about me.”

“That reminds me. Who are you?”

“A member of your group.” I grinned at him.

“No. See, that's the thing. We were much better off before you got involved.” He used the pipe to point at me. “We never had to cover up a mission before your flood.”

“But your friends still let me in. Do they know about this meeting?”

“They'll thank me later. They only see the big picture, but I see everything else, the stuff they're overlooking. I have sources they don't have.”

“The plants?”

His face paled. “Why? What did they say?” I jutted a hand on my hip, so he continued, “And don't try to get your little friends to defend you. If I hear about this from them . . . ” I had no idea if he meant Whitney and Chess or plants. He twirled his finger in the air and sang, “
You've got mail
.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice quavering and desperate. “Maybe you'll realize I'm not a threat if I explain.” I swallowed. “My parents used to—”

“Blah blah. I don't care. You're doing this because you're rebelling or some other stupid reason. Not because you have to.” He rose from the rock, snatched the bong, and left me standing in the middle of the forest, wondering what obligated the others to do this besides desire.

“That's the thing, though,” I whispered to the empty woods. “I
do
have to.”

But I didn't know how to continue, with his blackmail hanging over my head.

At home, I knew Lorina must be mad, so I resorted to bribery. Win her over with a good meal, despite my lack of culinary talent. I had dumped frozen raviolis into boiling water when the door opened. I thrust my hands under the faucet.

“Do we have any pasta sauce?”

“You're cooking dinner? This isn't going to work, Alice. You can't just—” Lorina entered the kitchen and set her purse on one of the chairs, stopping short when she saw the table set like a four-star restaurant. “You used Mom's good china?” Her face didn't look surprised as much as . . . scared.

My smile fell. “We can't be afraid to use her things. She wouldn't want it stuffed forever in a box. Besides . . . ” I turned off the faucet and wiped my hands on a paper towel. “Aren't you hungry?”

“Starved, but—”

“You've been working so hard, I wanted to do something nice for you. I even made lemonade.” Her favorite. I pointed to the pitcher on the table. I hoped it tasted okay; the lemons we had looked a little suspect. “Plus, I feel bad your investigation was canceled.” Hint hint, give me information.

“It's back on,” she said with a casual wave of her hand as she grabbed a jar of sauce from the back of the cabinet. I handed her a pot and she poured the sauce inside. “But Alice, we need to talk about last night.”

“I'm sorry for the way I left. When you said you had to be the parent, it made me miss Mom and Dad. I had to get out of there before I got too upset.” This was good practice, in case I ever had to lie to the police.

“I'm sorry, too, then.” Her lashes fluttered against her eyelids. “But I need you to cooperate. This is hard on me, too, and I . . . ”

She didn't finish, but she didn't have to. Her message came across loud and clear. Raising me had been hard enough without my rebellion. I felt like a golf ball was lodged in my throat.

“I'm not letting you off easy, but I want to trust you. Okay?”

“I'll be good, I promise.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. “So the investigation is back on? What happened?” I lifted one shoulder in hopes it would appear casual and not calculated.