CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

Wednesday August 30:

 

I wake at six o’clock on the dot to the smell of fresh cinnamon buns and Pop singing When Irish Eyes are Smiling at the top of his lungs, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle whatever comes my way. Nothing like a good night’s sleep to give one a completely new perspective on life. Jeez. Pop belts out another round while I get ready for school. I think who needs an alarm clock when you have a baritone in the house.

“…sure 'tis like a morn in spring. In the lilt of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing.”

I pause to drop off my backpack at the foot of the stairs. “Great, now I’m going to have that song in my head all day.” I come down the hallway and roll my eyes at my reflection in the mirror over the telephone table. “Top of the morning Pop,” I say, pushing through the kitchen door.

Pop has his head in the oven. He says something about a flight to Orlando and lets the oven door bang shut as he turns around and slides a cookie sheet of hot cinnamon buns under my nose.

“Awesome,” I say, smiling happily at him. “I never did eat much of anything last night and I’m starved beyond starved.” Removing a glass from the cabinet, I help myself to some milk, and ask, “What was that you said about a flight to Orlando?”

Pop waves me over to the kitchen nook. “I said our flight reservation has changed to nine-fifteen a-m. Ten minuets earlier.”

“Great. The sooner I hit the waves the better.” Pop takes my glass of milk and tops it off. I pretend to surf and fall in the bench laughing.

I help myself to a hot-gooey cinnamon bun. It tastes so good I have to close my eyes. Pop sips his coffee and tells me about his super busy day.

“Before we leave for Florida, it’s important I wrap up any last minuet details for the West Wedding.”

I swallow and wash the food down with milk. I wipe off my milk mustache and say, “Well, as first assistant, I promise to help with the any prep work that needs to be done.” I look over. “Bridezilla still calling with changes?”

Pop presses his finger to his lips. “Shhh, don’t even mention her.”

Then he slides on his reader glasses and studies a picture of an elaborate spread in Brides’ Magazine.

I run my finger around the plate and lick any remain icing. “Huh, you can make a wedding reception better than anything those yahoos conjure up.” He looks up over the narrow torus-shell frames and smiles at me. “Seriously.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” Pop closes the magazine and slides off the bench. Pop places the magazine on the kitchen island and tops off his coffee. “I also plan to call Helen Milinski at the Alpine Chalet Resort and ask her about booking us a Christmas skiing trip.”

I blink at him. OMG. I would love and hate going back to the place Mom disappeared. Still, I’m shocked he would even considering it. Pop looks at me and sees my astonished expression.

“Best close your trap before a fly lands on your tongue.”

I close my mouth and wait to hear more.

He says, “I’ve given a lot of thought to what you and Josh O'Dell have been working on and discovered about your mum. I just thought it might be good for us to return one last time. I’m just not sure I can stomach being there again. You know?”

I nod.

“Should we or shouldn’t we? I prayed for an answer.”

“Did you get one?”

“Not yet. But that’s par for the course.”

“I’m for it. Pop, it feels like Ivan is really close to finding out what happened to Mom.” I wipe my fingers on my napkin, and then turn sideways and scooting off the bench pick up my plate, carry my things to the sink and rinse them off. “The trip to Florida almost feels like bad idea now…” I stop short of placing them in the dishwasher. I can’t even believe I just said that.

Pop comes over and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Naaa,” I say placing the plate in the slide out tray. Then turning around, I grab both of Pop’s hands and do a little twist dance singing “Surf City here we come…gonna have some fun…”

Pop escapes and turns on the little TV. The local station is reporting on Char and Billy. Speaking of. I tell Pop about Char and Billy’s predicament.

He says, “I’m not surprised with the way she carries on.”

Before I leave the house, I run up to my room and grab the Valentine file I put the photos in then Pop follows me to the front door giving me the little talk about waiting until you are ready yada-yada.

“I know Pop, jeez.”

“I feel badly for Char and Billy. Their lives will never be the same. On the other hand, I’m mad that they were stupid and careless about using protection.”

I shake my head in total agreement. I peck him on the cheek. “Bye Pop!” I push thoughts of them out of my head and trudge across the walkway. Not my problem. The air is cool but still humid. Great weather for frizzy hair. Oh well. I notice my bodyguards standing ready as I get in the Mustang, drop my backpack on the floor and place the Valentine file on the passenger seat––I want to keep it handy. I fire up the engine and back out waving causally at a few neighbors out watering their lawns and walking dogs. “Just a normal morning, to anybody but moi!”

On the way to school the brilliant sunshine does it’s best to blind me. I adjust the Mustang’s visors and find it difficult to focus on any one thing or any particular subject. It’s distracting enough having Smith and Markowitz on my tail––but I have to admit it’s comforting to know they’re around and armed.

At the red light, I turn on some tunes and feel around the floorboard for my sunglasses then flip open the Valentine file, lying on the passenger seat. On top is the To-Do list Josh and I made up last night. “Ah yes.” I mentally add a few more things like on the way home go by Earl’s Family Garage to ask about getting the scratch buffed out on the ‘stang’s fender. I also want to see if Ernie’s Fine Rentals will answerer a few questions about this Alfred Dunsmuir-importer-exporter-dude…aka-Valentine-slash-Fredrik Koshechka. I hold up a couple of photographs of him, wishing I had a better picture to show him. I’m clueless as to what this character Alfred Dunsmuir looks like. Someone toots their horn to tell me the light is green.

“Thanks!” I glance at the rearview mirror and wave. I sing along with the radio and turn onto 38^th, driving at a snails pace toward the school’s entrance. I can’t help but gawk as I roll by what looks like a war zone. In other words, the yellow police tape stretched around the wide section of the chain link fence Char plowed through. In my rearview mirror, I see Agent Smith park the Mazda across the street. The two guys lower their side windows to catch a breeze. I look over, wave at them. They raise their Starbucks coffees in response. I park in my designated spot, lock up, and then stroll past the scene. There’s a cluster of people mulling around a uniformed officer, giving their account to him. Those who missed the action, walk over to get a better look and make gasping noises. Police cars line the bus zone in front of the school. Twisting around, I survey the area for anyone I know. Nobody I want to speak to, especially another cop. Nothing really going on out here. Shelly, a peculiar girl from the Junior’s swim team scurries by me.

“Hey, Shell, it’s me Cookie.” She almost trips on the edge of the sidewalk as she turns to see who called her. “You know my friend Char?” Walking backwards, she nods “yes” while chewing on the tips of her long brown hair. “Have you seen Char?”

She spits out the lock of hair and tells me, “I overheard someone say that Brennan and MacDougal seem to be MIA today.” She shrugs then keeps going toward the entrance. I follow her through the big glass doors, planning to head for my locker, and then drop off a few books at the library.

The school lobby is packed with excited people and extremely noisy. So this is where all the action is I think lowering my head as I move off to the side and stand next to the trophy cases. Everyone is jammed into a big knot and of course talking about what happened yesterday.

“Why is everybody hanging around the lobby?” I ask a short boy standing nearby.

He springs up and down on his tennis shoes shouting, “Some suits are asking questions about the two people who caused the accident.”

I swing around thinking Char and Billy are here but I can’t see them. The crowd is substantial. I spot Brook and Zak standing in front of the admin office. I make my way over. “Hey. Why everyone is stalled out in front of the office?”

Zak doesn’t look well.

“You can’t see it from here,” Brook says, pointing over my head. “There’s a notice posted on the admin door that says if you think you’re a witness to “the incident” that took place yesterday afternoon, come to the office to be interviewed. Everyone came at the same time.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Too bad about your little blue bug,” I say patting Zak’s arm.

“She really bit it,” he mutters and hangs his head, dreadlocks fall forward around his shoulders like rag doll braids.

Brook whispers in my ear, “Zak is freaking about his beloved Beetle. I picked him up this morning and he cried when we drove in and saw the fence.”

I nod knowingly. Sorry, but nobody feels worse than Char. I glance around wondering how many people know the whole story. Skater Smith, one of Zak buds, pushes through the door with his skateboard under his arm. He sees Zak, scurries over and they smack at each other for a few minuets in a bizarre handshake like ritual. It's as if they belong to the same tribe. Skater has massive scares on his elbows and knees. I cringe and smile at him. Skater says, “Duuuude, it’s like a Crown Vic parade outside!”

“Yeah, it’s freaking nuts,” Zak says glumly.

Skater frowns. “Dude did you actually witness the death of your beetle?”

 “Yeah,” Zak mutters solemnly. “I sure did, dude.”

“Bummer.”

Skater stays with Zak so Brook and I move away a few feet to give them some guy space. I peek over my shoulder. Zak is slumped against the wall looking like he just lost his best friend.

“Poor Zak, he’s really taking this hard.”

Brook shakes her head and glances over at her boyfriend. “Yeah, he’s pretty bitter about the whole thing. Char’s stepfather—what a creep—he said he didn’t have the money to pay his insurance.” She says, “In a nut shell, he said that making him pay for the damages is going to be like getting blood out of a turnip. But he might be in a lot of trouble for not having insurance. Like jail time…”

I blink at Brook. I’m stunned at the ramifications of Char’s freak out.

Brook cups her hands to her mouth and whispers in my ear, “I take it that by now you’ve heard about Char’s condition?”

I nod. “She called me last night.”

We discuss. “What can I do other than be supportive?”

Brook agrees.

The first bell rings. Principal Bishop appears above the crowd. He’s standing on a small ladder. Bishop looks tired as if he didn’t sleep last night. He puts a bullhorn to his mouth. “Listen up!” Everyone quiets down. “The detectives and I are going to trying to figure out a better plan to get witnesses’ statements. I dismiss everyone for the time being. Please depart and head to your regularly scheduled classes until further notice.” He climbs down, collapses the ladder, and pushes his way to the office doors with the two detectives on his heels.

Skater takes off.

Brook and I turn toward Zak. Zak has his hands over his face, banging his head on a lock door.

She grabs his wrist. “Come on Zak, we have to go to class.” Brook gets Zak moving even thought it’s at a slow pace. I hear her tell him, “Stop crying, we’ll get you another car.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

I say, “Catch ya later.”

Brook waves at me frowning. I watch Zak lumber beside her until they turn the corner. I hate seeing my friends so down. This is horrible. The day started great, now not so much.

 The intercom crackles and the class automatically rises to our feet while Jezi leads us in the pledge of allegiance before announcements. When there was a hubbub about Church and State, some schools chose to have a moment of silence or whatever. Georgetown High is a patriotic bunch and we are taught that majority rules in our constructional republic. At a special PTA meeting, ninety percent of the parents and students attending GHS showed up to vote to keep the pledge of allegiance as part of our morning ritual. Fine, call me a dork or whatever, but I get goosebumps every time I recite it. We sit down and Principal Bishop comes on the intercom.

“Good Morning students and faculty at Georgetown High School,” Mr. Bishop’s voice is loud, clear, and a tad peeved. “For the past ten years I have enjoyed being the principal of this fine school. Some of you know that before I took the promotion as Principal here, I was the assistant principal for five years at Cherry Park Elementary School in Seattle, Washington. And like so many other schools these days, we have a grown in numbers. Therefore, there are several issues to work out. Nevertheless, when I compare those to what went down in our senior parking lot yesterday afternoon they somehow seem like a cake walk!”

Several people laugh.

I sit at my desk pretending to write in my notebook. Principal Bishop has to be aware of the incidents leading up to Char’s driving stunt. No doubt, everyone and their mother are talking about her. If I was Char, I think that—for the interval—I’d leave town maybe even the country immediately!

Bishop starts lecturing everyone about being responsible adults, saying we should take pride in school property as well as life and limb etc. etc. etc. I zone out until the guy sitting behind me, (I think his name is Charles) starts poking me in the back.

“What?” I say turning around.

“Hey your name Cookie Blakely right? They just called you to the office!”

I screw up my face. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Weren’t you listening? Mr. Bishop just said he wants you to come to the office. He read a list of names, yours was one of them.”

Charles is a snarky snob. I cross to the door and glance around the class. Everyone is looking at me. I’m sick of being stared at all of the time.

Mr. Vick says, “Cookie. Better take your things. It could take a while.”

I go back and gather up my stuff in a huff and leave. Thanks Char. Isn’t my life complicated enough already? On the way to the office I see several other apprehensive looking people going the same way as me. Personally, I feel an odd mixture of dread and joy. Being legally pulled out of a class is always a plus however being interrogated by the authorities, not so much. I turn the corner and am unexpectedly blinded by camera flashes as Jimmy Beal clicks of a row of pictures of me walking toward the office. I’m certain my mouth is hanging open in most of them.

“Stop it Beal! Why are you taking my picture?” I ask, trying to control my anger.

“Principal Bishop asked me to,” he says, twisting the long lens for close up shots. “The police need to ID everyone as witnesses to the accident and I use the word ‘accident’ loosely!” Beal snickers then snorts loudly like a donkey. “From where I was standing it was beyond evident…Char drove like a maniac on purpose.” Beal pats his camera and smiles; he even looks like a donkey. “I shot the whole thing on digital video and stills.”

I smile sweetly. “Cool. Show me.”

I want to see if Fredrik Koshechka happened to be around during the whole thing. See if my constant feeling that he’s lurking in some bush or behind a building holds true. It will creep me out if he is, but I have to know.

“I will after the police see them,” Beal says, smiling widely. Ewe, his big teeth look like they belong to Mr. Ed. He reaches out and brushes a hair away from my face.

“And when will that be?” I ask flinching.

“Oh, probably in about two months. Who knows, the hands of justice move slowly. Smile!” Beal says, snapping Brook and Zak as they come around the corner. Zak whips off his sandal and wings it at Beal, barely missing his big bony head. The shoe lands at the foot of some huge cop.

“Uh-oh.”

The cop leans over, picks up Zak’s shoe, and hold it up in the air, “This belong to you son?”

Zak hobbles over to the cop looking like he’s going to have a stroke. “W-why y-yes sir,” Zak says shaking like a leaf. “Like, I’m like totally sorry sir. Timing, um, on my part was like, a total misfortune.”

The officer, still holding Zak sandal, crosses his meaty arms over his barrel chest and stares down at Zak as if he’s a species never seen before on planet earth. The cop doesn’t look amused. He reaches for his gun with his free hand.

Zak screams and holds his hands in the air. “Please don’t shoot me Mr. Policeman dude!” Cringing, Zak looks up at the cop. “I was like defending my Constitutional right to like, you know, um, personal space and privacy and such.” Zak points at James Beal, busy taking pictures of more people coming to the office. “That young lad startled my best girl here by taking a bogus snap-shot. You know what I mean dude, like us men folk have to like, protect the women folk from marauders.”

Finally Brook steps in and yanks on Zak arm. “Zak, chill!” Brook turns to the cop, smiles sweetly and says, “He comes in peace.” She takes Zak’s shoe from the mystified police officer and smacks Zak on the head with it.

The police officer backs away, yanking up his holster, shaking his shaved head.

The group of football players that were in the parking lot yesterday during the incident, show up Eddie Crandon, leading the way. I narrow my eyes at the creepola that called Char “Mc Do-ya” while he actually poses for Beal. It’s disgusting! He flexes his big arm muscles like some he-man weird-o. I decide to go inside the office before I toss my cinnamon buns. Bad idea because my day just got worse. The place is packed; Sean and Kelly are just inside the door. They both turn and look at me as I shut the door and squeeze by muttering “hi”. Heat on my neck flows up my face. I hang my head, side step the other footballers, and slip into a little space near the end of the counter. I glance at my bare wrist. If I’d worn the watch Sean gave me for my birthday I’d take it off and wing it at him. I look for Josh by sweeping my eyes over the office full of students—all of these people are claiming to be eye-witnesses to Char’s parking lot freak-out? Josh, a true eyewitness isn’t in here. Why? Well, if you’d been paying attention to the announcement, you’d know if they called his name. Shut up!

When did I start talking to myself so much?

The office door opens and Beal squeezes in holding his camera over his head. He shouts, “Okay people! Make room for the press!”

Everyone totally ignores him. Beal sticks his leg over the arm of a chair and stands in the seat above the crowd. He adjusts the lens then snaps a few shots. He hops from chair to chair moving around the perimeter of the office, clicking off a zillion pictures. He’s completely idiotic. I turn my back to him avoiding his onslaught.

Principal Bishop emerges from his office holding the bullhorn. The office goes quiet. Mr. Bishop sees Beal jumping from chair to chair then leap onto the counter.  He puts the bullhorn to his face and bellows, “Mr. Beal! Get off the counter!”

Eddy Crandon yells, “Yeah, Bone-Head! What the (expletative) is the matter with you?” He grabs Jimmy leg and Jimmy falls, crushing people. His camera flies out of his hand, smashes into the counter with a harsh “crunch” past Jezi Indy’s pale face, and then hard lands on the terrazzo floor behind the counter—that can’t be good. Luckily no one is hurt, can’t say that about his camera. Jezi disappears behind the counter. I stretch up and lean over the counter. Oh my, Jezi has a new do. She shaved almost fifty percent of her head. What’s left of her burgundy hair is sticking strait out from the back of her bare head. Bazaar.

Beal gets up off the floor and dashes behind the counter. “My favorite camera. It’s…trashed!”

“I tried to catch it,” Jezi says, as she gathers the camera pieces and passes them one by one to Beal.

Sorry, but I’m sort of glad that there will be a few less pictures of me floating around.

Principal Bishop clears his throat and runs a finger around the inside of his collar. “Listen up people! I want to make it crystal clear. The police only wish to talk to people who actually witnessed the incident as it unfolded. If you just happened to be driving by afterward, or showed up at the scene because someone told you about the incident, please, go back to class immediately!”

The inside of the admin office becomes very loud as everyone shuffles around. About two-thirds of the people aren’t supposed to be in here. I spot Josh coming through the door. He looks perplexed, and then sees me cowering in the corner. He gives Sean and Kelly a side-glance and squeezes against the stream of exiting people. Josh stands very close. He smells awesome. We murmur “Hi”.

Josh leans closer and whispers, “This is wild.”

I smile. “I know! Like we don’t have enough to deal with, right?”

Sean turns and looks at us as they make their way out.

“From what I remember Palmer didn’t show up yesterday until after the fact.”

I turn my head and look at right at Josh. “Yeah, my exact thought.”

Josh whispers something back just as I shift my gaze to the door. Kelly’s hurt look tells me she is upset about Sean watching Josh and me. She crosses her arms and turns her back to him. They get outside and stand by the plate glass window in full view. Sean lays his hands on Kelly’s shoulders and forces her turn around and faces him. He is mere inches from her face. I can tell they’re arguing hotly. I smile smugly because witnessing this makes me beyond happy that I said what I did last night to Sean. I’m done with him. I turn my attention back to Josh. “Sorry what?”

“I said I saw dumb and dumber parked out front.”

“Yeah, but I’m cool with it.”

I’m thankful for my friendship with Josh. Char is so wrong. A girl and a guy can so be best friends. I have to make sure it doesn’t turn into anything else. I’ve learned the hard way that romance with Josh would destroy our friendship.

We look on while Mr. Bishop answers a few questions three cheerleaders have. “Ladies, right now we are interested in learning about the actual crash. Now run along to class. We will call you if needed.”

Visibly insulted, one of them stomps her foot. “But Mr. Bishop we know something pertinent!”

“Such as?”

“Well, right after sixth period we heard Char and Billy arguing inside the girl’s restroom in the four-hundred building.”

“Well why didn’t you say so in the start?”

“Uh, we didn’t want everyone to hear that they were arguing about Char being prego. Now it’s common knowledge.”

You could hear a pin drop. I swallow hard. Josh looks at me and I smile weakly. I whisper behind my hand, “She called me last night.”

He just blows out a long breath.

When all's said and done, there’s only a hand full of ‘so called credible witnesses’. Eddie Crandon into and four or five football players follow the big cop (Zak accosted with his shoe) into the office. Principal Bishop shuts the door soundly. He comes over and stands in front of Josh and me. We move apart and stand taller. Bishop’s eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep. He clears his throat in a fisted hand and says, “I understand you two were almost run down?”

The officer’s eyes light on me and I instantly feel nervous. “Yes, but I’m fine. Not injured. Just a little sore.” I lift a shoulder. “You know from rolling around on the blacktop.” I look at Josh. “Um, Josh O'Dell was on top of me so I didn’t actually witness that much since we were on the ground and––” Josh nudges my foot with his shoe and I shut my mouth.

Josh says, “We were on our way to Cookie Blakely’s car and heard tires screeching. We saw the speeding car about to run us down and I grabbed Cookie Blakely and dove… We ended up under Zak’s VW. Then on the second round, I rolled us under Cookie’s Mustang. I lifted my head and saw Char plow into Zak’s car and shove it into the fence. All this time, I was covering Cookie with my body.”

Bishop blinks and rocks back on his heels.

The officer says, “Sounds like you two lucked out.”

I nod. “Um, yes sir, Josh totally saved me. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to mention the scratch on my bumper. I shouldn’t have to pay for the repairs.”

“You’ll need to attain a copy of the police accident report for insurance purposes.”

Josh says, “My father is sending a copy over with one of his deputies.” He consults his watch. “He should be here any time minuet.”

I smile. “Thanks!”

Jezi Indy is behind the counter across from this guy, doodling on a pink pad of late slips, looking beyond bored. Bishop tells us to stick around and turns to the anorexic looking Goth guy wearing a skintight Megadeth tee shirt, black leather pants, and a spike through his noses and lower lip, draped over the counter. Goth-guy tips his hand. “How’s it going officer friendly?”

The officer taps his official looking clipboard with his pen, and asks, “Son, what is your full name?”

“Death’s Shadow,” Goth-boys says.

Seriously. I cover my mouth to mute a giggle and come up with a Goth name for me. I settle on “Blood Heiress”. I feel it goes well with my red hear and Russian Royalty birthright. Know what I’m saying?

The officer rolls his eyes at Death Shadow and asks him for his birth name. “Edward Ziphouser,” he mutters, barely audible and then goes on with his story. Explaining to Principal Bishop and the officer that he and his girlfriend Jezi Indy here were on their way out to the parking lot and heard Char gunning her engine in front of the school.

“Ah” a match made in heaven. Wait, I thought Jezi had a thing for Jimmy Beal. They way she was going on about him… who cares anyway?

Jezi clears her throat and pipes in, “And out of concern for our safety and the safety of others, Death’s Shadow and I decided to stick around and speak first hand with the driver of the Lexus.” She motions for Death’s Shadow to take over. “You tell it Shad.”

Shadow says, “Yeah. So, I rapped on the darkly tinted driver’s side window to see what this friggin’ wacko chic is up to, you know.”

Officer nods. “Do you know the suspect’s name?”

Jezi says, “Char MacDoogal was behind the wheel.”

 “Man,” Shadow says dramatically, screwing up his face he spreads both hands, tipped with black fingernails. “It was down right bone chilling when this MacDoogal chic lowers the window. Her face was all odd, wild-eyed would describe it! It was reminiscent of Wynona Ryder in Girl Interrupted…did you see that flick…?”

The policeman doesn’t answer. I get what Shad is saying. I’ve seen Char pretty freaked out numerous times.

Jezi says, “I think she was wacked out on something.”

Edward snorts a laugh. “Yeah. Crazy bitch was screaming like a banshee. Talk about your teenage angst.”

Eddie and the other football players listen on with mock-shock and snicker at the ‘bitch’ word. I’m shocked Principal Bishop let Shadow get away with saying it.

The officer writes on a form and then looks from Shadow to Jezi. “What did exactly Ms. MacDoogal say?”

Shadow says, “Verbatim. I couldn’t say. Something to effect that she wanted to kill that scum-bag Eddie Crandon. That she’d waited over an hour for him to come out after football practice so she could run down his ass or at least scare the-you-know-what out of him!”

Brook Bailey and Zak come over. Brook taps the officer on the arm and he turns around. Brook says, “Zak and I saw the whole thing.”

The whole ordeal was over in about fifteen minuets. It would’ve ended soon except Zak became quarrelsome and wanted to sue Senator Brennan. Not sure how Zak got it in his head that Brennan was at fault. Officer Friendly suggested Zak hire a good lawyer and takes it from there. Only one other person saw Char almost hit us. Weird Shelly Broomhouser. Weird because she chewed on the ends of her hair the whole time she gave her statement—nearly grossed me out. Anyway, all in all, Zak and Brook seem to be the most reliable eyewitness for both of Char’s infractions––for lack of a better noun.

At that point, Principal Bishop and the officer release everyone. They head down the hall to Principal Bishop office and shut the door. Josh and I hang out a while long, waiting for the arrival of the police report so I can file my insurance claim. Jezi hands out hall passes like playing card and flirts with Death Shadow. It’s pretty entertaining to watch. The FBI never did show which is fine by me.

A thin deputy wearing a police uniform comes through the door waving a rectangular envelope. “I have a delivery for Josh O'Dell.” He looks our age.

“Yoh,” Josh says, raising his hand.

“I need some identification.”

Josh shows his driver’s license and he passes over the envelope. Josh hands me the envelope and signs his clipboard.

The deputy looks at Josh’s signature then draws back his head and stares at Josh. “You Wayne O’Dell’s son?”

“In the flesh.”

They shake hands. “Today’s my first day with the force. Your father hired me. Good man.”

Josh just smiles.

The deputy leaves and Josh walks me back to class so we can talk. He opens all of the doors for me, but this time, I carry my own backpack. We stop outside Mr. Vick’s door and Josh looks at his watch. “The bell for second period is going to ring in a few minuets.”

“No sense in going in,” I say.

Josh adds, “You still need to give your teacher the hall pass or you’ll be counted as absent.”

“Okay mister play-by-the-rules.”

I lean against the wall. “Josh, with your knack for analyzing, what do you think will happen next with Mom’s investigation?” I ask, not wanting to separate just yet.

“I’m pretty certain that Ivan has something up both of his sleeves.”

“Like what?”

“The fact that he went on a reconnaissance to Austria. Talking to everyone every one involved. It is part of his plan to capture Fredrik Koshechka and learn why he’s watching you and your father. Koshechka is a prime suspect. It appears that he’s hunted down your family for decades…and now you in particular.”

“But, why me…?”

“The Soviet Union’s brutal customs are imbedded into the psychic of its former agents. Maybe Koshechka is resolute to finish the mission before he retires.”

I blink “Finish?”

“Yeah. He’s hell bent to finish a mission that happened decades ago. All because Mom survived.”

Then it dawns on me. “He’s obsessed with the old ways. He can’t accept the fact that she betrayed Mother Russia and became an American spy.” My hands ball up into fists. “So this freak plans to kill off every person related to us until there is no one left standing? I mean, when does the insanity end? Josh, Fredrik Koshechka is insane if he thinks he can wipe out my entire bloodline.” I’m ranting.

Josh lays his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Oh, goodie I feel so much better now.

I look up at Josh O'Dell and smile weakly.

I’m doomed.

The bell for second period rings. The door opens promptly and Mr. Vick comes out followed by the people in my first period classroom. I dutifully hand him my hall pass. He folds it in half and slides it in his breast pocket and we turn to go.

“Wait. Cookie Blakely and Josh O'Dell, we were worried about you.”

We stop and turn around.

“During class we discussed what occurred. A couple of my students captured you on their cell phones…” — Mr. Vick pauses and rubs his chin— “we couldn’t understand why you two were, um, lying on the ground practically under a car...”

Josh says, “Cookie was in the path of the on coming Lexis.”

“Josh saved my life by his quick moves.”

 Josh and I wave goodbye to Mr. Vick, who is still rubbing his chin looking perplexed, baffled or bemused, maybe, all of the above. We scurry to our next classes—mustn’t be late.

Walking beside Josh, I wrap my arms around my middle and keep my eyes down to avoid talking to anyone. The whole school is abuzz with talk about Char and everything. After a minuet or two, I glance over at Josh and say softly, “I’m so afraid to get my hopes up. I mean, if my mom was kidnapped, wouldn’t somebody want to brag about it? You know, to put out a message like, in your face American!”

“Yeah, that seems to be the political thing to do nowadays.” Josh pushes open the door to building one where all Mathematics classes are located. “Right now, all we can do is just keep digging for clues and praying something breaks. Dad and Ivan have unlimited resources at their finger tips and can discover stuff faster than any other country in the whole world.”

I nod and duck under his arm.  “So how’d you know I have Calculus for 2nd period?”

“I memorized your schedule.”

We stop in the hallway near my next class. Buying time, I turn and face Josh. He looks incredible. “So you’re as big a snoop as me.”

“No. It was lying on your bedroom floor the other night.” We stare at each other and Josh continues, “Look, last night I lay awake thinking about everything leading up to Mrs. B’s kidnapping and I came to one major conclusion. That Agent Werthoust screwed up royally. He left Mrs. B unguarded. Koshechka—or whoever—was waiting and ready to act. He either kidnapped her...or worse. I’m betting my money that he spared her life.” I study Josh’s face and he holds up his hands palms out. “Of course I could have it all wrong, but that’s my gut feeling…take it or leave it. We have to have faith that Mrs. B is still alive.”

I smile at him and feel a little awkward, not sure how to leave him so I throw caution to the wind. “Um, Josh, I just want to say thank you for...for everything.” I glance around the hallway and see that we are completely alone. I rise up on my tiptoes and kiss him squarely on the cheek.