Alice in Wonderland High (26 page)

“Dru . . . ” Quinn said through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”

“Prank?” Whitney filled a cup. “Ah,
this
,” she pointed the cup at Kingston's and Quinn's welded bodies, “makes so much sense now.”

Dru waved another girl over, using her cowboy hat as a matador flag, attracting the attention of the bulls.

“There is no prank.” Kingston managed to free his arms again and maneuver Quinn onto only one leg. Stretching, he leaned over the table and filled himself a cup while Whitney recruited the girl Dru had brought over. He chugged it, then slammed it down on the table. A green mustache dripped from below his nose. “This is the same stuff you always make, Whit.”

She flashed a knowing smile. Then I understood. It was all a trick to get the students' attention. A line formed behind Dru, our new spokesperson. Maybe she was good for something. Besides stealing BFFs, that is.

I headed over to the jug and thrust the petition into someone's hands before he could grab a cup.

Quinn tugged on Kingston's shirt. “Let's go, this is backfiring! People are coming over here because of us!” She hopped out of his lap, hand still connected to his shirt.

“Aww, have you been wasting time by helping us out?” I smirked at them.

Quinn scoffed.

“If you knew Time as well as I do,” Kingston said, “you wouldn't talk about wasting
it.
You mean
him
.”

“Right, you already told me that.” I pushed a petition into someone else's hand.

Kingston rolled his eyes. “And yet you still haven't bothered to befriend Time. If you did, he would always be six
P.M.
, like he is for me.”

I hoped I'd never know what Kingston meant, because if I did? I'd probably be enjoying my newfound knowledge strapped to a bed in the psych ward.

Kingston stood up and leaned in toward Quinn, whispering something in her ear. His hand reached up and squeezed hers. A smile broke on her face at whatever he'd said. The moment was almost sweet, even though I was sure he'd probably said something dirty. She dropped his hand, flashed me a quick glare, and then turned back toward the school.

Dru tapped Di frantically on the shoulder. Di lifted her head and squinted at her personality-doppelganger.

I swept my hair back from my face and stalked toward them. “You can't do the prank, Di. Kingston's up to something, I don't know what, but you could get in trouble.”

“Like you did?” Dru raised an eyebrow.

“Alice,” Di said, rubbing her eyes, “I can't believe anything you say anymore.”

Whoa, pulp friction. “I'm just looking out for you.”

Di pushed herself away from the table and followed Dru inside without saying another word.

I spun back around in time for Kingston to corner me by the jug. Whitney was busy giving the pitch to a group of girls.

“Take more tea.” Kingston pushed a cup in my direction.

This was why he'd hung back? He wanted to get me dizzy? “I've had nothing yet, so I can't take more.” I picked up a clipboard and busied myself with it, with no intention of playing his games.

“You mean you can't take
less
,” Kingston said. “It's easy to take
more
than nothing.”

“I didn't ask your opinion.” I held the clipboard in front of my chest like a shield. Anti-enemy protection.

“But you're listening. This isn't going to work, you know.” He ripped the petition from my hands and held it out to me. “You're getting them interested now, but once you try to make them work, they'll bail. I doubt anyone will even show up to the meeting.”

“We'd like to have you,” I said. “We'll help you.”

“Like you helped Chess?” He raised an eyebrow.

My stomach sank like an anchor. “I'm trying to fix it. I think this approach might work, out in the open and legal.” I gestured at the table. “I'm hoping if we get a club together, we can raise money for Chess and—”

“He doesn't want to be a charity case. I think the whole sleeping-in-his-car thing proved that.”

“Why won't you help him? He's your friend. He needs you, too.”

“I
am
helping him. Let's see whose method gets more results.”

“The prank? Is that your method?”

He set the clipboard back down. “The prank benefits you, too, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, thanks. Leave me out of your schemes.”

“It doesn't work that way. If you want to know, you better show up at the Homecoming dance.”

My mouth went dry. “Why? What are you planning on doing there?” And more importantly, why was Quinn his weapon of class destruction?

“I'd tell you that, but pigs flying isn't in the weather forecast today.” He snapped his fingers. “Probably because you set them all free.” He started to lope away, then changed his mind and crept into the space between the table and me. “You know,” he said, as if he were sizing me up. “I think you underestimate me.”

I took a step backward. “That's not possible. You've met my expectations every time.”

“You think I'm the bad guy.” He stepped forward again.

This was not a tango I wanted to participate in. I turned my head. “I'm going by fact.”

“I'm just saying, the dance will be interesting.”

I met his eyes. “Kingston, please don't hurt anyone.”

He gave me a sad smile. “No one can be hurt worse than me.” With that he tromped away, leaving me with more questions and more confusion.

I pasted on a smile as I handed out the clipboard. The pages filled up fast, but I couldn't enjoy it. Not when my mind spun about what Kingston was planning. And stupidly, every time I thought of the dance, I thought of Chess. He hadn't asked me, and now he never would.

Principal Dodgson came running out of the building, hand raised in the air like she was hailing a taxicab. Her red Wonderland cap looked out of place next to the suit. “I've had reports someone's serving alcohol here!” She stopped short when she saw me. “Oh, Alice. I should have known you might be involved.”

Well, on the bright side, I probably wouldn't be branded in the yearbook with “Teacher's Pet” in the Senior Superlative section.

Whispers erupted from the line. Whitney didn't miss a beat, filling a cup and handing it to her. “I'm afraid you've been misinformed. No alcohol here. Try it, it's good for you.”

Principal Dodgson brought it to her nose, sniffing. “What's in it? Do I need to get a chem teacher to analyze it?”

“Just a mixture of herbs. There's green tea. Echinacea for health. St. John's wort for happiness. Ginkgo for mind clarity. Stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Principal Dodgson set the cup down without drinking. “Well, either way, I need to shut this operation down. It's disrupting the school day.” She shooed away the line. “Alice, you should have asked my permission.”

“I know, but after what happened with the paper, I thought—”

“Let me guess. That I wouldn't say yes?” She studied me. “That's true. Not without a teacher sponsor.” Principal Dodgson grabbed the yellow jug and carried it inside for further analysis.

I bit my lip. “Kingston's planning something that will go down at the dance,” I told Whitney. It had to be bigger than breaking into Town Hall. Why else would he be so secretive?

Whitney shrugged. “I wouldn't worry. He hasn't exactly been the brains behind our other operations. I doubt he'll come up with anything other than a letdown.”

That was the thing, though. Maybe Kingston was right. Maybe we were underestimating him.

Lately, Lorina could barely stand to look at me. The house was carpeted with eggshells, and we went out of our way to avoid crushing them. I kept bracing for a harsher punishment besides virtual handcuffs grounding me. But instead she was giving me something worse: nothing. She'd stopped acting like my replacement mother. She'd even stopped acting like my sister. I couldn't deny how much her absence hurt me, more than extra chores or a phone restriction ever could.

I spent the night worming through my sheets, my mind wide-awake while my blankets twisted into shackles around my ankles. I kept trying to figure out what Kingston might be doing with his plan. What a school prank could possibly have to do with the files he'd stolen. Bags puffed out my eyes the next morning. My heart squeezed when I caught my reflection in the mirror and thought,
at least Chess won't see me like this.

Chess.

Oh, the agony and the ex-tasy. Well, fake ex, anyway, but plenty of agony. I'd emailed him every day so far to tell him I missed him. And to give him daily progress reports on what Whitney and I were up to. I hated to give Chess false hope about our schemes, but I reasoned that it wouldn't be false if it worked. No,
once
it worked. Whitney and I had filled up several pages with signatures, and lots of people claimed to be coming to the first meeting. A small victory, like the eighth of an inch I'd grown last week. Neither whole nor complete, but progress.

Even though refreshing my inbox was my new favorite pastime, Chess never replied. He was probably cut off from all civilization in extreme grounding, but it still sucked not to hear from him. I needed reassurance that he was okay.

That morning, I banged off another email with a full transcript of Kingston's Homecoming threat, in case Chess might be able to analyze his words better than I could. The sting of so much hope and worry forced me to find a distraction before I crumbled to pieces. I entered the kitchen for breakfast and stopped in my tracks upon finding Lorina, her eyes scanning a newspaper. I considered backing away and grabbing breakfast in the form of a Snickers from the vending machine. Instead, I drew a confident breath and strolled toward the counter.

“Um, I have something for you.” I pulled my backpack off the counter and removed the petition sheets, each filled with fifty names. With shaky hands, I set the papers next to her bowl of Cheerios.

She kept her eyes fixed on the newspaper, spoon blindly seeking mouth, as if she couldn't look elsewhere or she'd give too much away. “What's this?”

“A petition . . . from the potential Eco Club. They want a farmers' market in the area, one that will get its produce from a local supplier, which means we also need a farm.” I tapped my finger on the headline of the petition. I knew most of the people who signed it hadn't actually read the fine print, but still, it could work, right?

“Alice . . . I don't want to hear about you being involved with the environment again. Am I clear?”

Now she looked at me. It was a look that would scare even hardened criminals. I retreated from her until my back hit the counter.

“This was for school.”

Her stare burned into me like sunlight through a magnifying glass. I spun around and popped bread into the toaster.

She didn't say anything for an uncomfortable few seconds. I urged the bread to toast faster and hoped she was reading the petition. That she could see each signature was unique, not forged. Then she said, soft and controlled, “Somehow I don't believe you.”

“Call the principal and ask!” My toast popped, adding a
ding
sound effect. “This is important to me, Lorina. The town needs a farmers' market. Mom and Dad were—”

“Enough. I don't want to hear it again. And I definitely don't want you hanging around anyone else involved in this stuff.”

I grabbed my toast and my glass of orange juice and carried them to the table. Acting like a coward would keep her thinking I had something to hide. “Lorina, listen to me. I've stopped doing the illegal stuff. And most of the others have stopped, too. But . . . ” I swallowed hard. I really didn't want to tip her off, but I didn't see any other way I could get permission to keep going. “I'm trying to convince the last person to stop as well. This is the only way to do it.”

“Who's the last person? Your friend Chess?” She swirled her coffee mug on the table. “By the way, I remembered why the name Katz sounded so familiar.”

I froze with the toast halfway to my mouth. So much for looking secret-free and halo-worthy.

“Mom and Dad used to have a friend with that last name. Did you ever meet him?” There was something odd about the way she was speaking. All monotone, punching each word at me.

“ . . . No.” I didn't like the direction of this conversation.

“Too bad,” she said. “He. Used. To own. A farm.”

I figured out what was so odd about the rest of the conversation. She was enunciating each word. Like a code. Whitney's
I'm late
code, to be specific.

Small earthquakes shuddered through me. She'd made the connection with Chess. “He stopped, too.”

“Then tell me who's still doing the terrorism, and
I'll
convince them to stop.”

Coming from anyone else, that might have been a threat. It might still be. All the faith I'd had in my sister bled out of my body. I studied the table. Now I was the one who couldn't look at her. “I can't do that. Please, Lorina. I need to be the one to do this. You're choosing your job over your sister.”

“You have it backwards.” She pushed away from the table and tucked the petition sheets under her arm. “Because of my job, you're not on anyone's radar. So it would be best if you helped me keep it that way.”

The implied part of her sentence:
at the expense of your friends.

“I won't turn my friends in.” I stared at the light fixture above my head, afraid to look at her. Afraid she'd see right through me.

“Well, then I have no choice but to go ahead with the investigation. I hear the forensics team we hired is coming close to IDing a break-in the other night.”

I swallowed hard. The tone of her voice indicated she didn't really need the forensics team. She'd already IDed the suspect: me.