cactus.
I turned back to Will, but he had disappeared.
Mr. Houseman put an arm around me and led me down the hallway. “Let’s take a little trip to the guidance office.”
Mr. Houseman sat me down in a plush blue chair opposite a desk labeled “Rita Nuñez, Guidance Counselor.”
“Ms. Nuñez is at the concert,” Mr. Houseman said, his voice nearly trembling with concern. “I’m going to go get her, alright? Wait here and she’ll talk with you in a minute, alright?”
“This really isn’t necessary,” I pleaded. “I just want to get back to the concert.”
“Honey, trust me: it’s necessary,” he whispered. “Just talk to her.”
I wanted to smack him for calling me “honey” at least four times in a single morning, but I decided to stick to just smacking imaginary people like Will, so I kept my hands in my lap. “Fine,” I said, and I slumped in my chair and faced Ms. Nuñez’s empty desk as Mr. Houseman shut the door behind me.
I wanted to tear my hair out. I wanted to give up. I wanted to . . . hack into Ms. Nuñez’s guidance files to spy on Leo.
It was wrong, but it was all I could think to do, so I scooted around behind Ms. Nuñez’s desk and plucked at a few buttons on her keyboard, and her computer screen yawned with static as it came to life.
The desktop was a picture of kittens in a basket. I opened a folder labeled, conveniently, “Student Records” and searched for “Leo K.” One file popped up, and I opened it. It was a word document with a picture of one Leo Krancik in the top left corner, looking as demonic as ever. Beneath his name ran a list of incidents dating back to 2000, when Leo was in pre-school, including the time he introduced himself to Allison’s little brother as the devil.
“Geez,” I said aloud. Leo was a white-collar criminal. He had been suspended in sixth grade for running a ring of organized lunch money theft. In eighth grade he stole the answers to standardized tests and sold them on the black market. This year he’d been suspended for breaking into the guidance office and stealing student files. (Given what I was doing, this one made me respect him a little.) He was currently being suspended for truancy. This last suspension made no sense. Why should the punishment for not coming to school be less school?
I heard a rustling outside the door and froze, expecting to be caught, but no one was there, so I pressed on.
Leo Krancik was definitely capable of a kidnapping—but to what end? Were he and Ms. Peterson in cahoots to murder my brother and steal his fortune? Did my brother have a fortune?
I went to Google Maps and typed in Leo’s address. The map scrolled over to a dead-end street that ended near a bay. At the end of the street sat Leo’s house, but it wasn’t just a house—it seemed Leo lived on the site of a business listing as well: B&B Scrapyard.
I remembered what I’d told the cops after I jumped out of the van—that the torn receipt in the back of the van was labeled “B&B Scrapyard.” The cops had dismissed it as a worthless bit of hearsay.
Amateurs.
I looked out the window of the office and saw a woman in a merlot business suit chatting as she strolled toward me. That must be Ms. Nuñez. I didn’t have time to print out the map, so I stared at it for a second on the screen, then quit the browser. While all of my old memories as Abby Grace were gone, I seemed to have a talent for making new memories. Before I could consider a lucrative career in a circus sideshow, however, I heard the click of Ms. Nuñez’s high heels.
I squeezed through the open window behind the desk, leapt into the courtyard and ran, breathless and hopeful, to the bay to find my brother.
Chapter Nine
Friday, 4:02 PM
T he B&B Scrapyard was at the bottom of a winding hill. As I scooted down the hill I could see the afternoon sun shimmering on the calm blue waters of the bay.
At the bottom of the hill was a grass lot cordoned off by a
I turned back to Will, but he had disappeared.
Mr. Houseman put an arm around me and led me down the hallway. “Let’s take a little trip to the guidance office.”
Mr. Houseman sat me down in a plush blue chair opposite a desk labeled “Rita Nuñez, Guidance Counselor.”
“Ms. Nuñez is at the concert,” Mr. Houseman said, his voice nearly trembling with concern. “I’m going to go get her, alright? Wait here and she’ll talk with you in a minute, alright?”
“This really isn’t necessary,” I pleaded. “I just want to get back to the concert.”
“Honey, trust me: it’s necessary,” he whispered. “Just talk to her.”
I wanted to smack him for calling me “honey” at least four times in a single morning, but I decided to stick to just smacking imaginary people like Will, so I kept my hands in my lap. “Fine,” I said, and I slumped in my chair and faced Ms. Nuñez’s empty desk as Mr. Houseman shut the door behind me.
I wanted to tear my hair out. I wanted to give up. I wanted to . . . hack into Ms. Nuñez’s guidance files to spy on Leo.
It was wrong, but it was all I could think to do, so I scooted around behind Ms. Nuñez’s desk and plucked at a few buttons on her keyboard, and her computer screen yawned with static as it came to life.
The desktop was a picture of kittens in a basket. I opened a folder labeled, conveniently, “Student Records” and searched for “Leo K.” One file popped up, and I opened it. It was a word document with a picture of one Leo Krancik in the top left corner, looking as demonic as ever. Beneath his name ran a list of incidents dating back to 2000, when Leo was in pre-school, including the time he introduced himself to Allison’s little brother as the devil.
“Geez,” I said aloud. Leo was a white-collar criminal. He had been suspended in sixth grade for running a ring of organized lunch money theft. In eighth grade he stole the answers to standardized tests and sold them on the black market. This year he’d been suspended for breaking into the guidance office and stealing student files. (Given what I was doing, this one made me respect him a little.) He was currently being suspended for truancy. This last suspension made no sense. Why should the punishment for not coming to school be less school?
I heard a rustling outside the door and froze, expecting to be caught, but no one was there, so I pressed on.
Leo Krancik was definitely capable of a kidnapping—but to what end? Were he and Ms. Peterson in cahoots to murder my brother and steal his fortune? Did my brother have a fortune?
I went to Google Maps and typed in Leo’s address. The map scrolled over to a dead-end street that ended near a bay. At the end of the street sat Leo’s house, but it wasn’t just a house—it seemed Leo lived on the site of a business listing as well: B&B Scrapyard.
I remembered what I’d told the cops after I jumped out of the van—that the torn receipt in the back of the van was labeled “B&B Scrapyard.” The cops had dismissed it as a worthless bit of hearsay.
Amateurs.
I looked out the window of the office and saw a woman in a merlot business suit chatting as she strolled toward me. That must be Ms. Nuñez. I didn’t have time to print out the map, so I stared at it for a second on the screen, then quit the browser. While all of my old memories as Abby Grace were gone, I seemed to have a talent for making new memories. Before I could consider a lucrative career in a circus sideshow, however, I heard the click of Ms. Nuñez’s high heels.
I squeezed through the open window behind the desk, leapt into the courtyard and ran, breathless and hopeful, to the bay to find my brother.
Chapter Nine
Friday, 4:02 PM
T he B&B Scrapyard was at the bottom of a winding hill. As I scooted down the hill I could see the afternoon sun shimmering on the calm blue waters of the bay.
At the bottom of the hill was a grass lot cordoned off by a
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