Though I noticed, as the minutes stretched on, there was another scent mingling with the old closet smells, too. Fabric softener, soap, and a faint woodsy smell that was surprisingly like the men’s department at Macy’s. Cologne? Body spray? Deodorant? Whatever it was, I found myself not entirely hating being stuck in the closet with Chase.
He shifted, his body pressing up against mine, and I felt the lean muscles of his chest against my arm, his breath warm on my neck. Irrationally, I started thinking of all the things we could do in a dark closet together to pass the time while Tipkins corrected.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but my left foot was starting to fall asleep (crowded up against a stack of textbooks), and the air in the closet was getting seriously warm (or maybe that was just me. Was it my imagination or was Chase leaning closer?), when I felt Chase’s breath tickle my skin.
“Tipkins is moving.”
I looked through the crack in the door, forcing myself to focus despite the way too personal quarters. Chase was right. Mr. Tipkins had gotten up from the desk and was moving… toward the filing cabinet.
“You locked the cabinet, right?” I whispered.
I felt Chase shake his head. “I didn’t have time.”
Oh, fudgecakes.
I watched, dread curling around in my belly as Mr. Tipkins leaned down to unlock the cabinet. He stuck the key in the hole, turned, then frowned. His bushy eyebrows furrowed together as the realization hit that the cabinet was already unlocked.
He straightened up, glancing over both shoulders, surveying the room for a possible answer as to why it was open.
I shrank as small as I could, hoping he didn’t see the guilt emanating from the closet.
Luckily, he simply shoved the key into his pocket and opened the cabinet. He removed a couple sheets of test answers, stuck them in the briefcase, then shut and locked the cabinet. He dropped the key back in his desk, then gathered the briefcase in his hands and walked out of the room.
A second later the light went off, and I let out a sigh of relief as I heard footsteps retreating down the hall.
“That was close,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Chase said. I could feel his breath coming hard beside me.
“Think it’s safe to leave the closet?”
“Probably.” But he didn’t move.
“So… do you want to?”
“Not really. I kinda like it in here.”
I rolled my eyes in the dark and shoved him out ahead of me.
Even though part of me kinda agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, we were outside again, jogging around the far side of the school to where Sam and Kyle were still standing under the oak tree. Though it was hard to distinguish one figure from the other as they were firmly stuck together at the lips.
“Ahem!” I said in an exaggerated throat clearing.
Sam detangled her tongue from Kyle’s long enough to look up. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” I said. “You guys are supposed to be our lookouts not make-outs.”
Sam blushed in the moonlight. “You guys were taking forever. We had to find a way to keep warm out here.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Besides,” she pointed out, “we did warn you someone was coming.”
“Did he see you?” Kyle asked.
I shook my head, relaying our brush with Tipkins.
“But you found the test answers?” Kyle pressed when I was done.
Chase nodded. “Yeah. The custodian is the way in. As long as you go in a door he’s opened, it’s unlocked. I’m guessing it’s the same every night.”
“And the file cabinet was easy to get into. The key is in Mr. Tipkins’s desk.”
“So, really, the only lock you’d have to pick is the one to the classroom,” Chase added.
“And Chase got in there, no problem,” I said, telling them how he’d used his driver’s license.
“So, anyone could have stolen the answers?” Sam said when I was done.
I nodded. “Right. Meaning any one of our suspects could be the person who killed Sydney over them.”
Which left just one very important question: Which one was it?
Chapter Seventeen
THAT QUESTION PLAGUED ME THE ENTIRE WALK BACK HOME as I considered the info we’d gathered over the last week. Clearly the test answers were the key to who had killed Sydney. But how had she found out who was stealing them? Did she know the thief personally? Was it one of her friends? Or an enemy? Clearly I was missing something here, and the empty spot where that something should be was burning a hole in my brain.
The next day, Mom agreed to drop me at the front entrance of school and not walk all the way in. (Thank God!) I felt slightly guilty that her trust in me was based on the erroneous assumption that I’d been tucked up in my room all last night like a good prisoner. But only slightly. (She had, after all, tortured me with Bon Jovi at top volume the whole ride to school.)
As soon as I walked into the main building, I saw a table set up in the hall with a clipboard of names and a cardboard ballot box on top. Jessica Hanson was manning it, handing out little slips of paper to anyone who passed by.
“Hartley!” she hailed me. “Have you voted yet?”
“Voted?”
“For homecoming court. Duh!” Jessica rolled her eyes at me.
I had to admit I hadn’t.
“Today’s the last day,” Jessica said, handing me a slip of paper as she crossed my name off her clipboard.
“Wait-today?” I asked. “I thought we had until Thursday?”
Jessica did another eye roll, and I could see she’d doubled up on the blue eyeliner today. “Earth to Hartley? Today is Thursday.”
I blinked at her. Really? I’d been so caught up in trying to track down Sydney’s killer that I’d totally blanked out the rest of the world. If today was Thursday, that meant that the big football game was tomorrow and the homecoming dance the next night.
Not, mind you, that I was planning on going. Dances, especially homecoming dances, were a date kind of thing, and considering I was currently guy-less, I’d planned on a nice quiet night at home with a package of Oreos instead. I looked down at the slips of paper next to Jessica’s ballot box. Four guys and three girls were named. I noted with a pang the conspicuously empty spot where Sydney’s name might have been. Beside the remaining nominees were empty circles to fill in for king and queen. At the very bottom there was a spot for a write-in vote.
I looked at my choices. There was a football player/cheerleader couple that looked like they probably stood a good chance. There was a Color Guard girl and soccer player combo that could be a close second. Then there was the Connor, Jenni, and Ben trio. My money was on Connor and Jenni. But honestly? I really didn’t want them to win. Something about the way they’d played girlfriend musical chairs just to get the vote hit me the wrong way. So I decided to have a little fun and write in a couple instead. I dropped the ballot in Jessica’s box and headed toward first period.
I was halfway there when my cell buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out just outside lit class.
it’s jenni. we need 2 talk.
I quickly texted her back.
about?
connor.
