It takes me several minutes to see her to and out the door. I tell her I’ll be in touch, and she thanks me about fifteen more times before I can finally shut the office door.
“Are you out of your mind?” Dani hardly waits for the latch to click before starting in. “You need to focus on staying out of the line of fire. Not infiltrating a cult.”
“I told you, it’s not a cult,” I say. Semantics, but still. “Besides, I can’t ignore the connections happening right under my nose.” I shove the report and receipts at her, but she barely glances at them.
“I don’t care about connections. I care about keeping you alive,” she says, her glare frying me to cinders.
“What’s the point of being alive if I have to stay in hiding? I cannot stay holed up at Mike’s house all summer. I’ll go insane.”
She grabs my wrist. “You are not taking this seriously enough, milaya. Someone is trying to kill you. Someone we don’t know anything about. I cannot protect you from that if I don’t know where you are.”
“I am taking it seriously,” I say, staring her down. “One of your contacts is going to know something. We’ll figure out who it is and we’ll stop them, like we always do.” She’s still not convinced. I’m not even sure I’m convinced. But I have to do this. “I can’t lose this chance to find my mother.”
And just like that, all the intensity gutters out of Dani like the death of a cheap tungsten filament. She pulls back, releasing my wrist. “All right. It is your decision. But nothing else has changed. No public transportation, no office. Just school and the Ramirezes’.”
School. Crap. “What time is it?”
I grab my phone. Eight-fifteen.
“Crap! I have a lit final that started five minutes ago.”
I snag my backpack and start to make a dash for the door when Dani grabs my upper arm to stop me. Giving me a grouchy look, she precedes me into the hallway and down the stairs.
• • •
Three hours and several rounds of mental gymnastics later, I finally stagger into the dining hall for lunch. I set my tray across from Lily’s and slump into a plastic chair.
“I have an explication hangover,” I say, downing a glass of grape juice. “Ugh, Flannery. And people think I’m twisted.”
“Only half of that made any sense to me,” Lily says.
“See what I mean?” I prop an elbow on the table next to my tray and rub my temple.
Murphy and Bryn join us. Bryn actually brings her lunch from home, such as it is. I don’t understand her obsession with acai-berry-flavored everything.
“How’d it go at the bar?” Murphy asks. I shoot him a dirty look and motion at him to keep his voice down. I’m not trying to get busted before I even have a chance to investigate.
“It was a dead end.” I almost laugh at the unintentional play on words. “Or at least, I thought it was until this morning.”
“What happened this morning?” Bryn asks, snagging one of Murphy’s fries.
“I had another visit from Mrs. Antolini.” At Bryn’s blank look, I add, “The client.”
“What does that have to do with Bar63?” Murphy asks.
“She shouldn’t have anything to do with it. But she had these receipts of her husband’s. There was a whole stack of them, and they were all for Bar63 from before it opened.”
“Before it opened?” Murphy says, perplexed.
“Exactly.”
“I don’t get it,” Lily says, her face drawn into a frown. “What does a bar supposedly connected to your missing mother have to do with the New World Initiative cult?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“There’s still the dean problem,” Murphy reminds me. Unnecessarily.
“What dean problem?” Bryn asks, stealing another fry. Murphy, the doormat, doesn’t appear to mind.
“Julep has to get special permission from Dean Porter to get into the NWI student intern program,” Lily says.
Bryn’s eyes widen, and she bursts into peals of laughter as loud as Murphy’s last
“Are you out of your mind?” Dani hardly waits for the latch to click before starting in. “You need to focus on staying out of the line of fire. Not infiltrating a cult.”
“I told you, it’s not a cult,” I say. Semantics, but still. “Besides, I can’t ignore the connections happening right under my nose.” I shove the report and receipts at her, but she barely glances at them.
“I don’t care about connections. I care about keeping you alive,” she says, her glare frying me to cinders.
“What’s the point of being alive if I have to stay in hiding? I cannot stay holed up at Mike’s house all summer. I’ll go insane.”
She grabs my wrist. “You are not taking this seriously enough, milaya. Someone is trying to kill you. Someone we don’t know anything about. I cannot protect you from that if I don’t know where you are.”
“I am taking it seriously,” I say, staring her down. “One of your contacts is going to know something. We’ll figure out who it is and we’ll stop them, like we always do.” She’s still not convinced. I’m not even sure I’m convinced. But I have to do this. “I can’t lose this chance to find my mother.”
And just like that, all the intensity gutters out of Dani like the death of a cheap tungsten filament. She pulls back, releasing my wrist. “All right. It is your decision. But nothing else has changed. No public transportation, no office. Just school and the Ramirezes’.”
School. Crap. “What time is it?”
I grab my phone. Eight-fifteen.
“Crap! I have a lit final that started five minutes ago.”
I snag my backpack and start to make a dash for the door when Dani grabs my upper arm to stop me. Giving me a grouchy look, she precedes me into the hallway and down the stairs.
• • •
Three hours and several rounds of mental gymnastics later, I finally stagger into the dining hall for lunch. I set my tray across from Lily’s and slump into a plastic chair.
“I have an explication hangover,” I say, downing a glass of grape juice. “Ugh, Flannery. And people think I’m twisted.”
“Only half of that made any sense to me,” Lily says.
“See what I mean?” I prop an elbow on the table next to my tray and rub my temple.
Murphy and Bryn join us. Bryn actually brings her lunch from home, such as it is. I don’t understand her obsession with acai-berry-flavored everything.
“How’d it go at the bar?” Murphy asks. I shoot him a dirty look and motion at him to keep his voice down. I’m not trying to get busted before I even have a chance to investigate.
“It was a dead end.” I almost laugh at the unintentional play on words. “Or at least, I thought it was until this morning.”
“What happened this morning?” Bryn asks, snagging one of Murphy’s fries.
“I had another visit from Mrs. Antolini.” At Bryn’s blank look, I add, “The client.”
“What does that have to do with Bar63?” Murphy asks.
“She shouldn’t have anything to do with it. But she had these receipts of her husband’s. There was a whole stack of them, and they were all for Bar63 from before it opened.”
“Before it opened?” Murphy says, perplexed.
“Exactly.”
“I don’t get it,” Lily says, her face drawn into a frown. “What does a bar supposedly connected to your missing mother have to do with the New World Initiative cult?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“There’s still the dean problem,” Murphy reminds me. Unnecessarily.
“What dean problem?” Bryn asks, stealing another fry. Murphy, the doormat, doesn’t appear to mind.
“Julep has to get special permission from Dean Porter to get into the NWI student intern program,” Lily says.
Bryn’s eyes widen, and she bursts into peals of laughter as loud as Murphy’s last
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