Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula (19 page)

At 7:10 a.m., I walked groggily into the kitchen. Three lunch bags lined up on the island knocked the wooziness right out of me.

“Good morning,” Emery greeted.

I turned my head to him. Leaning against the counter, he smiled at me, his hands wrapped around a steaming coffee mug.
He would drink coffee
, I thought, surveying him,
and he probably takes it black
. Emery wore his typical attire: a button-down shirt neatly tucked into khaki pants and a brown leather belt that matched his loafers. However, there was an additional element to today’s presentation that truly made me want to shake my head. Embroidered in navy thread on the pocket of his gray shirt was his monogram, EMP.

“Why are you up so early?” I asked in denial. The extra lunch bag said it all.

Smoothing his neatly combed hair, he answered casually, “I’m your guest at school today.”

He doesn’t think I can control myself
, I thought, staring at him indignantly.
He thinks I need his protection, but I’ll end up protecting him if he steps foot on school
campus
dressed like that
. “No, you’re not,” I informed him.

“Yes, I am,” he countered, sipping his coffee.

“No. You. Are. Not.”

Mom whipped around from the sink. “Cassidy Claire! What has gotten into you lately?”

Seated at the table, Nate chimed in, “Brain damage. From the whack on the head.”

“Nate,” Mom warned, giving him “the eye.”

Ignoring them both, I continued to stare hard at Emery, who was quite unflustered and very determined.
He isn’t going to budge
, I realized, feeling my temper climb, and then suddenly it occurred to me why.
I am so dense!
This is his creative
way of getting around my parents. He has no intention of going to school with me. Mickey must be picking him up.
This thought caused a little unease. But don’t judge a book by its cover, right? Emery had said as much last night, and Mickey was helping him.
And I’m messing up his escape plan
.

“Have you had breakfast, Emery?” I asked quickly, swiping up the Cheerios box from the island.

His mouth curved in amusement. “The coffee is enough.”

“Are you sure?” I dumped the cereal in a bowl. “Lunch period isn’t until twelve-thirty.” I smiled at him, resisting the urge to wink.

Mom sent me an approving look and Nate laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a trip, Cass.”

~~~

At 7:20, we three headed for the front door, lunch bags in hand. Luckily, Nate went upstairs to grab a hoodie while Emery and I collected our things from the hall tree in the foyer. This provided me the opportunity to talk with Emery privately. I wanted to assure him that Nate would be cool about his ditching us on the way to school.

“Nate won’t say anything,” I whispered, pulling on my zip hoodie.

Emery gave me a quizzical look.

“You know. About taking off with Mickey.”

He looked down at his “bag of tricks” and unzipped it. “Cassidy, I hate to break this to you,” he said, placing his lunch in the backpack, “but that is not my plan.” He zipped the backpack and unhooked his black jacket from the hall tree. My dad owned a similar one.

It took me a second to figure out what his plans were. “Oh, geez, Emery. No,” I gasped.

His face lit up in amusement.

“You really are coming to school.”

“I really am.” He shrugged on his jacket. “I told you I wouldn’t leave you.”

Nate jogged down the stairs.

“Well, I didn’t think you meant
ever
,” I whispered in frustration.

Emery just smiled and slipped on the backpack.

Nate patted Emery’s shoulder. “Ready to roll, dude?”

Not dressed like that,
I thought, glancing at the loafers anxiously.
My gosh! Principal
Snider wears those shoes. This will be like a matador waving a red cape at a herd of bulls
.
“Emery, you have to change your clothes.”

That stinkin’ amused expression came back on his face. “I’m sorry, Cassidy. I’m not going to do that,” he told me, hefting his laptop bag on his shoulder. Even that displayed his monogram.

“Borrow something from Nate,” I urged, interpreting his refusal to mean he had no other options.

“Cass, he’s like a foot taller than me,” Nate pointed out impatiently. To Emery, he said, “You’re fine. Let’s go.” Nate opened the door and walked out. Emery followed him.

Watching the boys cross the porch, I gnawed on my lip, thinking,
No way he’s sliding under Dixon’s radar
. Then I grabbed my backpack and bolted after them. I wasn’t giving up this easily.

“Wait,” I called, pulling the door closed behind me. The boys were on the front walk. They stopped and turned to me. “I’m really not trying to be mean, Emery,” I assured him, scampering down the steps. “But look at Nate.”

My brother’s hair, a tumbled mess, had a cowlick sticking straight up on the side of his head that he’d slept on. The old jeans he wore had holes in the knees, and the navy hoodie was smeared with grease stains. From the smell of him, I don’t think either article had made it to the laundry recently. “This,” I gestured to my brother, “is what the general male population at school will look and smell like today.”

Nate sniffed his armpits. “
Hey!
I smell better than them.”

Emery laughed and said to me, “What would you suggest I do to fit in better?”

I’m not a miracle worker
, I thought, but whole-heartedly took on the challenge.

“Bend your head,” I commanded, poising my fingers.

Smiling, Emery offered me his head, and I aggressively messed up his hair. “Okay, let me take a look,” I said, pulling my hands back.

Holding back laughter, Emery stood upright, his hair in complete disarray.

“Cass, you think Julia Parr would do that for me if I combed my hair?” Nate teased.

“Maybe if you washed it,” I returned, strategically arranging Emery’s hair to look naturally messy. After several seconds of fussing, I smiled, satisfied with the results. “There,” I announced, stepping back. With hair nicely tousled, Emery looked quite adorable. However, it wasn’t enough. Frowning, I considered further. “Untuck your shirt.”

Nate grinned at Emery. “Sorry, dude. Gotta agree. Untuck.”

Smiling ear to ear, Emery pulled his shirt loose. It had the perfect amount of wrinkliness. “Am I presentable now?” he asked.

“Dude, we’re going to stick you on the cover of
Teen Vogue
.”

I lifted an eyebrow to Nate. “Like
Teen Vogue
, huh?”

“I get all my fashion tips from
Teen Vogue
,” he joked, primping his cowlick. Then he added, “Time to go. I don’t want to tell Mrs. Courtney in the office I’m tardy because I was helping another guy get glam for school.”

When we hit the sidewalk, Nate asked Emery, “How do you want to do classes? Half mine, half Cassy’s?”

“He is going to
all
of my classes,” I stated, sounding a wee bit possessive.

Both boys looked at me in surprise.

Nate smiled devilishly. “Oh, is that right?
All
of your classes, huh? Emery, does that work for you?”

The unflappable Emery said, “If you don’t mind, Nate. Cassidy had already asked me.”

“I have better electives,” I lamely defended myself.

“She’s right,” Nate conceded, nodding. “Her electives are way better than my lame-o ones. Good you thought of that, Cass.” He snuck me an exaggerated wink.

“Cassidy! Nate! Tall boy! Wait up!” Miriam’s voice called from behind us.

Nate groaned. “Trust me, Emery, don’t look back, don’t stop. Just keep walking.”

Glaring at Nate, I stopped and spun around. “Hi, Miriam.”

With a curious expression, Emery stopped, too, turning to see who would provoke such a warning.

Nate being Nate, he took his own advice and kept walking.

Miriam knew how to make a first impression. Bounding toward us, her pretty curls bounced and her cheeks flushed a lovely pink in the cool air. Her face was completely animated, displaying the most charming smile. Emery stared at her like she was some kind of exotic creature, and I had to admit, though I didn’t want to think about it, she smelled rather exotic. This was going to be a challenging day.

With sparkling eyes, Miriam stopped in front of us, catching her breath. “That is one steep hill,” she exclaimed, glancing at Nate’s back. “I love you, Nate,” she called after him.

Nate’s shoulders shook in laughter.

Miriam laughed, too. “Gosh, your brother is cute. He cracks me up.” She looked at me. “What happened to your forehead?”

This morning I had exchanged the gauze for a bandage, hoping not to be as obvious. “I fell. It’s only a cut.”

“Oh.” Her eyes darted to Emery’s face.

“Miriam, Emery. Emery, Miriam,” I introduced them.

“Nice to meet you, Emery.”

“It’s nice to meet you…too.” Emery watched Miriam blatantly look him over.

Finishing her examination, her eyes popped up to his face. Though she smiled, I knew Miriam was disappointed. Emery had the tall-dark-and-handsome thing going, but he didn’t appear to have fallen off a Harlequin Romance cover, which was what Miriam kept an eye out for. Generally, her eye has been disappointed.

As we resumed walking, Miriam asked polite questions, though her mind had already wandered elsewhere. “So, Emery, where did you move from?”

“I don’t live in the Queen Anne neighborhood. I’m staying with the Joneses.”

She looked up at him curiously. “Oh, you’re a family friend.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why haven’t I met you before?”

Time to divert
.

“Miriam, sweet boots,” I exclaimed, admiring her feet.

Briefly stopping, she admired her feet, too. “You like them? My grandma bought them for me Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you do in Portland?”

Miriam’s energetic mind was easily distracted, especially if the new subject was herself. Not that she was self-centered; she just enjoyed everything she did and was always eager to share, and she shared right up to the school’s office door, without hardly taking a breath. As I reached for the doorknob, she abruptly asked Emery, “Why are you here?”

It took a second for him to register that he was the subject. “I’m Cassidy’s guest at school today.”

Her eyes widened with excitement. “You can do that?”

“According to my mom, you can,” I said, turning the doorknob. “He has to sign in. We’ll see you in biology.” I opened the office door, and almost a dozen heads turned our way, their eyes looking over me to Emery’s face.
Thanks, Mom
, I thought, walking to the front desk, feeling ogling eyes follow us.