Tucci, AT HOME.”
“Your mom called the principal! On the weekend? ” Valerie said.
“Oh my God!” Michele said.
“She wants answers,” Laura said. “And so do I. Tucci said it was a prank. That someone FORGED school stationery and wrote the note as a practical joke.”
“Who would do that?” Kaitlin said.
Emma-Jean sat perfectly motionless.
Laura looked over her shoulder at the blacktop. “Take your pick,” she said. “There are so many pathetic people who have it out for me.”
“Why?” Colleen said.
“They’re jealous!” Laura said.
The girls moaned in agreement.
“What a dumb joke,” Colleen said.
“It’s not a joke! You think this is FUNNY, Colleen? ” Laura said.
“No!” Colleen said.
“What if something had happened to me at school? What if I’d been attacked or something? And hello? I missed going skiing.”
“That’s really horrible,” Colleen said.
“Not for you,” Laura said. “You got to take my place, didn’t you? You’re one of my prime suspects. ”
Laura narrowed her eyes at Colleen, whose head appeared to sink between her shoulders. “So was it you, Colleen? Did you write that letter? Come on, fess up.”
Colleen smiled and made a noise that approximated a laugh, though Emma-Jean thought it sounded more like the whimper of a dog whose tail had been stepped on.
“Colleen would never do that,” Kaitlin said.
“No way,” said Michele, shaking her head gravely.
“She would never!” said Valerie.
Laura rolled her eyes and then smirked. “Actually I realized you couldn’t have because you’re a total airhead on the computer.”
“I know! I know!” Colleen squeaked. “I totally am!”
“My mother and I just met with Tucci,” Laura said. “He said he’d find out who did it.”
“That’s good,” Colleen said.
“No it’s not. He’s so lame. He won’t do anything. But don’t worry. You guys know me. I’ll figure this out. And you better believe heads are gonna roll.”
Emma-Jean blinked and put her hand up to her neck. Just then the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. As the noisy crowd receded, Emma-Jean reflected on what she had just heard. Perhaps Laura had not rebounded quite as quickly from her anger as Emma-Jean had predicted. But she did not believe these recent events would significantly alter the positive outcome of the problem. Emma-Jean did not believe that Laura Gilroy possessed either the reasoning skills or intellectual focus to trace the letter back to its source.
As for Laura’s threat to decapitate the responsible party, Emma-Jean was confident she was exaggerating.
Chapter 9
Emma-Jean considered herself fortunate to have so many friends. Her mother was her friend. Her father was her friend, though of course their communion was, by now, purely spiritual. Mr. Johannsen was her friend. Henri was a delightful companion. And there was Vikram, her newest friend, whose arrival six months ago had caused some notable changes in the atmosphere of Stanton Drive.
It had been Emma-Jean’s mother’s idea to convert the large third floor of their house into a separate apartment. Their house was a bit frayed around the edges, like Emma-Jean’s favorite cardigan sweaters. But its rooms were sunny, and unlike many hundred-year-old houses, it smelled good, even on rainy days. The house was just three blocks from the university. Emma-Jean’s mother believed, quite justifiably, that they could charge a good rent for the two large rooms and high-ceilinged bathroom on the third floor.
Emma-Jean had written and designed a detailed advertisement, which her mother posted on the bulletin board in the university’s housing office. Vikram Adwani had been the first person to call. He had come over one rainy evening for an interview, which had lasted for more than two hours. He made an excellent impression on both Emma-Jean and her mother. He had a serene manner. Judging from his spotless clothing, well-polished boots, and
“Your mom called the principal! On the weekend? ” Valerie said.
“Oh my God!” Michele said.
“She wants answers,” Laura said. “And so do I. Tucci said it was a prank. That someone FORGED school stationery and wrote the note as a practical joke.”
“Who would do that?” Kaitlin said.
Emma-Jean sat perfectly motionless.
Laura looked over her shoulder at the blacktop. “Take your pick,” she said. “There are so many pathetic people who have it out for me.”
“Why?” Colleen said.
“They’re jealous!” Laura said.
The girls moaned in agreement.
“What a dumb joke,” Colleen said.
“It’s not a joke! You think this is FUNNY, Colleen? ” Laura said.
“No!” Colleen said.
“What if something had happened to me at school? What if I’d been attacked or something? And hello? I missed going skiing.”
“That’s really horrible,” Colleen said.
“Not for you,” Laura said. “You got to take my place, didn’t you? You’re one of my prime suspects. ”
Laura narrowed her eyes at Colleen, whose head appeared to sink between her shoulders. “So was it you, Colleen? Did you write that letter? Come on, fess up.”
Colleen smiled and made a noise that approximated a laugh, though Emma-Jean thought it sounded more like the whimper of a dog whose tail had been stepped on.
“Colleen would never do that,” Kaitlin said.
“No way,” said Michele, shaking her head gravely.
“She would never!” said Valerie.
Laura rolled her eyes and then smirked. “Actually I realized you couldn’t have because you’re a total airhead on the computer.”
“I know! I know!” Colleen squeaked. “I totally am!”
“My mother and I just met with Tucci,” Laura said. “He said he’d find out who did it.”
“That’s good,” Colleen said.
“No it’s not. He’s so lame. He won’t do anything. But don’t worry. You guys know me. I’ll figure this out. And you better believe heads are gonna roll.”
Emma-Jean blinked and put her hand up to her neck. Just then the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. As the noisy crowd receded, Emma-Jean reflected on what she had just heard. Perhaps Laura had not rebounded quite as quickly from her anger as Emma-Jean had predicted. But she did not believe these recent events would significantly alter the positive outcome of the problem. Emma-Jean did not believe that Laura Gilroy possessed either the reasoning skills or intellectual focus to trace the letter back to its source.
As for Laura’s threat to decapitate the responsible party, Emma-Jean was confident she was exaggerating.
Chapter 9
Emma-Jean considered herself fortunate to have so many friends. Her mother was her friend. Her father was her friend, though of course their communion was, by now, purely spiritual. Mr. Johannsen was her friend. Henri was a delightful companion. And there was Vikram, her newest friend, whose arrival six months ago had caused some notable changes in the atmosphere of Stanton Drive.
It had been Emma-Jean’s mother’s idea to convert the large third floor of their house into a separate apartment. Their house was a bit frayed around the edges, like Emma-Jean’s favorite cardigan sweaters. But its rooms were sunny, and unlike many hundred-year-old houses, it smelled good, even on rainy days. The house was just three blocks from the university. Emma-Jean’s mother believed, quite justifiably, that they could charge a good rent for the two large rooms and high-ceilinged bathroom on the third floor.
Emma-Jean had written and designed a detailed advertisement, which her mother posted on the bulletin board in the university’s housing office. Vikram Adwani had been the first person to call. He had come over one rainy evening for an interview, which had lasted for more than two hours. He made an excellent impression on both Emma-Jean and her mother. He had a serene manner. Judging from his spotless clothing, well-polished boots, and
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