On the Loose (33 page)

He finally focuses solely on my face. “Yeah . . . I guess you do.” He wraps an arm around me, and we begin to walk out of the theater. “Whatever could you do to repay me for my plant-loving generosity?” He pushes open the exit doors, and I follow him out to the parking lot.

I tug on his letterman jacket to slow him down. “We could get dessert before the dance. My treat.” I hope that didn’t sound suggestive. Oh, my gosh, did that sound suggestive? For the record, I am
not
the dessert.

“Yeah, um . . . about . . . Hey! Quincy! David!”

Suddenly I notice we’re practically surrounded by Trevor’s loyal followers from In Between High. Wonderful. Maybe we can reminisce about old times—like that one time I was publicly humiliated in front of nearly all of In Between at a party.

“Whatcha guys talking about?” His refrigerator-sized friend Quincy slaps Trevor on the back. Trevor’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“The dance,” I say. “We were just discussing the spring dance.” I smile up at Trevor. Who does not smile back. Quincy must’ve hit him too hard.

“Awwww,” drawls David Higgins. “Is Trevor taking you to the dance?” Though the question is directed at me, David’s attention is on Trevor. Sheesh, is
every
male in this town born with ADD?

“Hey,” Quincy yells. “Trevor’s taking Katie to the spring dance.” Laughter erupts through the group.

Um . . . and this is funny because . . .?

Trevor frowns. “Don’t worry about them. But, Katie, about the dance, I—”

Quincy butts in between us. “He’ll pick you up at seven. Isn’t that right, Trev?”

Trevor stares at the ground. “I—”

Honnnnk! Honnnnnk!

“Oh.” I spot Frances in her station wagon. “My ride’s here. I gotta go.” I don’t hide the fact I’m trying to read his expression. “Trevor . . . is everything good here?”
With you? Me? Us? Your psychotic friends?

Trevor nods and briefly draws me to him with one arm. “Sure. See you later.”

More cat-calls from his oaf posse. With an uncertain look back, I get into Frances’s car.

“What was that about? There’s more testosterone in that parking lot than at an NFL game.”

My eyes hold onto Trevor as we drive away. “I don’t know. Boys are so weird.”

“Closest things to alien life form I know.”

Then Frances ambushes me with a million questions about our rendezvous with Nash and Charlie.

“Frances, calm down. Breathe, for crying out loud. We’re gonna have some burgers, talk about our science fair projects, and then Charlie will tell me how to nail Angel to the wall.”

“Sounds like fun.” Frances nods. “And I can do this. I can.”

“No choking this time.”

Frances steers the wagon through downtown to the Burger Barn. It’s literally a partially fixed-up barn with a flashing neon sign and a drive-thru window. On Saturdays the owner’s son has to dress up in an anorexic cow costume and shake his hoof at the passing cars. You know he’s gonna grow up to have some issues.

I wave at the guys as we walk in. Chelsea is already there, draped across her boyfriend. Ew. Like I needed to see this before I put down a totally awesome, greasy, drippy, overfried burger?

“Hey, dudes . . . er, guys . . . boys . . . Cash . . . Harlie . . .”

I nudge the sputtering Frances. “Hey.” I scoot into my seat and grab a menu.

Charlie shrugs off Chelsea’s arms. “So—bad day today?”

“Oh, it was horrible. First my flatiron wouldn’t heat up.” Chelsea flips her perfectly straightened gold locks. “Then I had to eat two percent milk on my cereal this morning instead of skim. I specifically asked my mother never to bring two percent into our house again. And then—”

“Actually I was talking to Katie.” Charlie pats Chelsea’s hand and turns to me.

I watch Chelsea consider having a meltdown. “Yeah, could’ve been better. More stuff was stolen in PE today.” I shut my grease-caked menu. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think I do. I’m working on it.” His
not now
look has me changing the subject.

“So . . . Nash, are you excited about playing for the mission project campout?”

“Totally, dude. I am so there. Really excited about it. How ’bout you, Frances?”

I push her menu down so her face is visible.

“Yeah, very, very excited. Thank you very, very much for asking. It was a pleasure to answer your question, Nash.” And the menu pops back up.

I smile like my best friend isn’t totally insane. “Frances was telling me you have a new band member, Jessi White. I think I have a class with her.”

“Yeah, totally righteous bass player.”

Frances pipes up. “I’m sure she’s the righteous-est.”

I continue with my prodding. “Is she going to play next week on spring break?”

“Nah, she’s not really ready for that yet.” The waitress comes and Nash gives her his order.

“It’s cool to play the guitar. Is that your type of a girl? The rocker-chick Jessi type?”

Nash frowns at my question. “I dunno. I’m not really into types.”

I stare a hole through Charlie.
Help me
.

Charlie takes a drink of his Coke. “So are you interested in Jessi?”

Beside me Frances is humming the Chihuahua fight song and beating out the rhythm with her silverware.

Nash studies his fizzy drink. “I don’t like to mix business and my social life.”

What about self-proclaimed nerds and your social life? Do those mix?

Chelsea sighs and grabs her boyfriend’s hand. “I have an extra rehearsal tomorrow night.”

My face pinches in a frown. “We have an extra rehearsal?”

Chelsea’s glossy lips snarl. “No, Ugly Stepsister,
I
have a rehearsal.”

“You and who else?” I ask, my inner sensor on alert.

She picks up her napkin and twists it around her finger. “Trevor and I. We’re having some problems with a few scenes and want to clear it up before spring break.” She melts into Charlie. “You understand, don’t you? You know how important this play is to me.”

Charlie just smiles. “Yeah, sure.”

Conversation turns to the science fair, and all of us but Chelsea pull out some notes to swap and discuss.

“Your data looks good, Nash.”

I beam at Frances, proud of her for completing a sentence all by herself.

I squint my eyes to get a better look, but I would bet my strawberry shake Nash is blushing. Could it be? Is it possible Nash likes Frances? Or maybe he’s just a sucker for compliments on the scientific process.

The waitress brings our food—a heaping tray of burgers, fries, and shakes. And one lonely salad, dressing on the side.

“My fork is dirty.” Chelsea holds it up for the waitress’s inspection. The woman apologizes and removes the offensive utensil from Chelsea’s grip.

“Who wants to pray?” Nash asks.

I disconnect all eye contact and choose a spot on the far wall to stare at. Hmm, nice moose head. Didn’t know you could catch moose in In Between, Texas. Very pretty Christmas ornaments hanging on his antlers too. Especially lovely this time of March.

“I will.” Charlie bows his head. “Dear God, thank you for our friendships here. Thank you for our opportunity coming up to serve you in our own town. We pray you give us servants’ hearts and really open our eyes to what you need us to do and what you want to teach us.”

God, just teach me how to survive next week.

“Lord, we pray for our science fair projects, and that it goes well tomorrow, the big due date. Help us to do the best work we can. No disasters, no mishaps.”

Hey, what’s a two letter word for disaster and mishap? Me.

“We pray for Katie. Lord, she’s under attack at school, and we ask for your hand to be over her. Guide her and protect her. Give her the help she needs.”

Or just remove Angel Nelson from this planet.

“And we ask for total healing for Millie Scott, God. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

The waitress appears at our table as our heads rise. “Here’s you a new fork, hon.”

“Keep it,” Chelsea hisses. “That one is bent. Is it really that hard to bring me a decent fork?” She looks at us and laughs. “I guess I should’ve brought one with me. I didn’t know it was gonna be this hard.”

“You can have mine.” With an apologetic face, Charlie thanks the waitress and takes the bent fork. Chelsea eats her salad with her Cruella DeVille smile.

An hour later I slurp the last of my shake. “I think we’ve got it all down.”

Frances picks at her mutilated, uneaten burger. “I think we’re ready for the science fair.”

“It’s gonna be great.” Charlie finishes off a piece of chocolate pie and shoves his plate aside.

Chelsea’s designer bag beeps. “Oops, that’s for me.” She pulls out her phone and reads it. “Gotta go.” She leans in and kisses Charlie on the cheek.

“Where are you going?” He stands up and helps her with her chair.

She smiles prettily and holds up her phone. “Emergency practice called for the play.”

I open my mouth.

“No.” She holds up a hand. “You don’t need to be there. Gotta go.”

“Call me later.” Charlie sits back down, his brow wrinkled in a frown as he watches her leave.

“I really should be going, too. I told James and Millie I would be home by seven-thirty.” I look at Frances, who is openly staring at Nash like he’s a triple banana split.

We all pay, then Charlie puts a hand on my arm to stop me from walking out. “Nash, walk Frances to her car. I need to talk to Katie.”

“Uh . . . yeah, sure.” Nash holds the door open for a petrified Frances.

“I’ve been thinking about this stealing business.” Charlie watches our friends walk out of the restaurant to the parking lot.

“I do believe you mentioned something about helping me.”

He smiles down at me. “Yeah, I believe I did.” He digs into his backpack and pulls out a small gadget. “Know how to work one of these?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s a video recorder. Got it from my uncle who’s a P.I. in Dallas.”

“Keep talking.”

“Do you know anyone who could let you in the gym locker room before school starts to hide this baby?”

I shake my head. “Well, you know, Mrs. Whipple probably would’ve, but I borrowed her favorite apple vest last week and didn’t return it. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”

He laughs and puts the camera in my hands. And for a moment our fingers intertwine.
I like Trevor, I like Trevor, I like Trevor.

“What about Mrs. Hall? She thinks a lot of you.”

I clutch this idea and hold it close. “She does?”

“Don’t you know that? Katie, you really gotta work on your self-confidence.”

“What, are you channeling Oprah?”

“Seriously, I think if you explained to Mrs. Hall about what’s going on, she would help you. We need someone with some keys to get you into the locker room so you could set the camera up.”

I hold the camera to my chest. “Thanks, Charlie. You didn’t have to do this.”

He places his hand on my shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

I just stare at him and nod, Frances-style.

“I’m glad you’re going on the camping trip too.” Charlie drops his hand.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun? Yeah, probably. Life changing?” He holds open the door. “Most definitely.”

F
riday morning at
six-thirty, Mrs. Hall and Charlie meet me up at the school. Mrs. Hall lets us in the building and into the girls’ locker room. I thank her for the millionth time.

“It’s no problem, Katie. You should’ve come to me sooner with this.”

Charlie turns a full circle among all the girl stuff. “Wow. I’m standing on sacred ground here. Do you know how many guys would pay to be able to say they’ve had an up-close-and-personal tour of the girls’ locker room?”

I snap my fingers in front of him. “Focus, would you? And quit looking for stray bras to stare at.”

Mrs. Hall’s bangles chime as she lifts her hand and yawns. “I cannot believe anyone has accused you of stealing. Preposterous! I know guilt when I see it. And I know a rotten liar when I see one. Hmph! I lived with one for—”

“Thanks, Mrs. Hall. I really appreciate it.” I open my locker and peer inside. The jacket wasn’t there at the end of the day yesterday, but I wouldn’t have put it past Angel to plant it in the middle of the night.

“Still no jacket, right?” Charlie pulls his camera out of the case. “Did you get Hannah’s locker combo?”

I pull a small piece of paper out of my pocket. “Got it.” After practically accusing me of theft, Hannah was more than happy to share her combination so we could plant the camera in her locker, which is directly in front of mine, giving us a bird’s eye view.

I recite the numbers for Charlie and the locker in front of mine snaps open. He sticks his hands inside, then stops. “Maybe you should set the camera up. I don’t want to . . . touch anything.”

Despite my fatigue, I laugh. “Such the gentleman.” I take the camera and with Charlie’s guidance, set it up just right in her locker. It’s so tiny, it’s not hard to hide it among some PE clothes.

Charlie nods. “Perfect. We have up to eleven hours of battery life in that thing, so if anything happens today, the camera will get it.”