NORAH McCLINTOCK
First U.S. edition published in 2013 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
Text copyright © 2009 by Norah McClintock. All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with Scholastic Canada Ltd.
All U.S. rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.
Darby Creek
A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
241 First Avenue North
Minneapolis, MN 55401 U.S.A.
Website address: www.lernerbooks.com
The image in this book is used with the permission of: Front cover: © Peeter Viisimaa/Vetta/Getty Images; © iStockphoto.com/Jaroslaw Wojcik, (boy).
Main body text set in Janson Text Lt Std 11.5/15.
Typeface provided by Linotype AG.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
McClintock, Norah.
At the edge / Norah McClintock. — 1st U.S. ed.
p. cm. — (Robyn Hunter mysteries ; #9)
ISBN: 978–0–7613–8319–2 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)
[1. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.M478414184So 2013
[Fic]—dc2 2012017533
Manufactured in the United States of America
1 – BP – 12/31/12
eISBN: 978-1-4677-0965-1 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-4677-3052-5 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-4677-3051-8 (mobi)
T
he way I had imagined it, the first few weeks in September would be pure heaven, total bliss, life as it should be—well, apart from having to go back to school.
The source of all this potential happiness? I would be staying with my father while the renovations to my mother’s house, which had started during the summer, were finally completed. But, much as I love my dad, it wasn’t the prospect of his company that filled me with joy. I was looking forward to a few weeks at my dad’s place because that meant that I would be able to see Nick every day. Nick lives in an apartment on the second floor of my dad’s building. My dad is his landlord.
But, as is so often the case where Nick is involved, things did not go according to plan. The morning of my first day with my father—also the first day of the school year—found me bending over in the park across the street from my dad’s building, hand thrust deep into a plastic bag so that I could pick up after Nick’s enormous black dog, Orion.
The city’s poop-and-scoop law is one of the two reasons I have never wanted a dog. The other reason: a serious case of dog phobia brought on by a nasty bite when I was in elementary school. But I made an exception for Orion. I had agreed to take him out first thing in the morning so that Nick could get an hour or so of sleep before school.
Nick lives on his own. He supports himself. And since the middle of summer, he had been working to the point of exhaustion. He had a part-time job washing dishes at La Folie, the restaurant that occupies the ground floor of my father’s building, and he took a second job as a night janitor at a mall. The way he had things mapped out for the foreseeable future: he would put in three or four shifts a week at the mall, usually from ten at night until six in the morning. If he had school the next day, he would dash home and grab a couple of hours of sleep before dragging himself out of bed and going to class.
Nick goes to an alternative school that caters to kids like him—who have been in trouble with the law, who come from messed-up families, who live by themselves or in group homes. It has a more flexible schedule than a regular school—it has to.
I couldn’t imagine him keeping up the pace for long. I guess he couldn’t either, because he kept saying it was just temporary. I felt bad that he had to work so hard, which is why I offered to help.
So there I was, trying not to gag as I picked up after Orion and wondered where Nick was. He hadn’t been home when I’d gone downstairs to get the big dog. My question was answered when a sleek silver Lexus pulled up to the curb across the street and Nick got out. I raised my hand to wave to him, but I guess he didn’t see me, because he headed straight for the door to my dad’s building. Poor guy. He was probably exhausted. While he was digging his keys out of his pocket, the driver’s-side door opened and a stunning blonde got out. She called to Nick. He turned and went back to the car, and she handed him something—I couldn’t see what it was. Nick glanced at it and stuffed whatever it was into his jeans pocket. The girl said something else and then went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. My mouth gaped. Why was a beautiful blonde in a Lexus kissing my boyfriend? More importantly, why was he letting her?
The girl was smiling when she slid back in behind the wheel. She waved at Nick and drove away. Nick turned again to go inside. I couldn’t decide what to do. Should I call to him and demand to know what was going on? Or should I—
Rowf!
That’s all it took—the rumble of Orion’s deep doggy voice caught Nick’s attention. He darted across the street and squatted beside me, scratching Orion behind the ears.
“So who was that?” I said in what I hoped was a casual tone.
Nick grinned as the big dog flipped over onto his back to get his belly scratched. “You mean Danny?”
“Danny?” I was confused. He said it as if I should know what he was talking about. Wait a minute. “Danny from work?”
“Yeah.”
“Danny your friend, the one who got you the job at the mall?”
“Yeah. I told you about her.”
That was true—sort of.
“You told me a friend named Danny worked at the mall and got you a job there,” I said. “You never said Danny was a girl.” Especially not a drop-dead gorgeous one. In fact, apart from a couple of brief mentions, he’d barely talked about Danny at all. Not that I’d asked—why would I?
“What difference does it make?” Nick said.
She’d kissed him. That’s what difference it made.
“You said your friend Danny worked as a janitor with you.”
“Yeah.” He tried without success to stifle a yawn.
“You expect me to believe that girl is a janitor?” She looked more like a model. And what kind of mall janitor drove a Lexus?
“She was, but she isn’t anymore,” Nick said. “She was just there for the summer.” Nick had spent the first part of the summer in a small town north of the city, near where I’d been working at a small local newspaper. He’d spent the rest of the summer back in the city, first recuperating from a gunshot wound and then working at the mall, driving a floor polisher. “Her dad owns the company that has the contract to clean the mall.”
“So your friend Danny is the boss’s daughter?”
“Yeah. But she’s cool. She never acts like she’s anything special. All summer she worked as hard as anyone else—maybe harder.”
“How come she suddenly decided to drive you home?”
Nick gave me a look.
“She’s been driving me home ever since I got the job,” he said. That was news to me too. “Today was her last day. Her parents don’t want her to work during the school year. They want her to concentrate on homework and stuff.”
Judging by the car she drove, she probably didn’t need to work during the summer either. Whatever. I was glad she was past tense. I didn’t want to think about Nick spending every night with a coworker who looked like she belonged in a fashion layout.
“I saw her give you something,” I said, still trying to sound casual.
“She got a new phone. She gave me the number.”
I didn�
��t like the sound of that, but I bit my tongue. Nick took Orion’s leash from me.
“I gotta go, Robyn. I gotta grab some sleep before school.”
He loped back across the street.
“You’re welcome,” I muttered as I watched him go.
W
hen I caught up with Morgan and Billy at school just before the bell rang, they were so tightly wrapped around each other that, from a distance, they looked like one person. The two of them had been inseparable ever since Billy got back from his summer job as a camp counselor. They had also been in almost nonstop physical contact with each other. They were my best friends—they had been for practically my whole life. But I was getting tired of watching them kissing and cuddling and beaming at each other like they were the only two people in the world who knew what love was, especially since I hardly ever saw Nick.
I took another look at Morgan and Billy and turned to walk away. Morgan chose that exact moment to come up for air.
“Hey, Robyn,” she called to me. She still had one arm around Billy’s waist and looked ridiculously happy. “How was your weekend? You and Nick do anything special?”
“Not really,” I said. “What about you guys? Did you have a good time?” Morgan and Billy had gone up to Morgan’s summerhouse with her parents for the Labor Day weekend. They had invited me along, but I had stayed in town in hopes that I could get together with Nick. It hadn’t worked out that way. Nick had pulled double shifts at La Folie and worked every night at the mall.
Morgan giggled. “We had a great time, didn’t we, Billy?” she said.
Billy nodded. His grin was almost as wide as hers.
“But you saw Nick, right?” Morgan said.
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” Morgan’s grin faded. “You either saw him or you didn’t, Robyn.”
“I didn’t.”
“You mean you spent the last weekend of the summer alone?” She looked shocked. “You should have come with us.”
I was glad I hadn’t. The only thing more depressing than not seeing Nick would have been not seeing Nick and spending the weekend watching Morgan and Billy snuggle.
The bell rang, and we went our separate ways. I didn’t catch up with Morgan again until an hour later, after we had been to our homerooms and picked up our class schedules. Morgan was still beaming even though Billy was nowhere to be seen.
“Guess what?” she said. She didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Billy is in four of my classes this year. And his locker is right next to mine.” She was ecstatic. “What about you? Let me see your schedule.” I showed it to her and watched her face collapse. “Apart from social studies, you’re not in any of my classes,” she said. At least she still cared enough about me to be disappointed. “Where’s your locker?”
“First floor, east wing. Yours?”
“Second floor, west wing,” she said miserably.
“There’s always lunch,” I said.
We headed for the main doors. Morgan came to a sudden stop outside the school office.
“Who’s that?” She pointed to a boy standing at the counter inside, talking to the vice principal. He was tall and sturdy-looking, with dark hair. “He must be new. For sure I would remember if I’d seen him before.”
“He’s in my homeroom,” I said. Morgan’s gaze shifted from the boy in the office to me.
“And?” Her eyes sparkled with interest. Morgan and Billy had been together for nearly a year, but that hadn’t stopped Morgan from checking out every cute guy who stumbled into range.
“And what?”
“What do you mean, ‘and what?’ Look at him.” She peered hungrily into the glass-fronted office. I grabbed her arm and started to drag her away before anyone noticed her blatant ogling.
“You’re with Billy, remember?” I said.
She got that familiar faraway look in her eyes. “Billy is so sweet,” she said with a sigh. But she cast another longing look over her shoulder as I pulled her down the hall.
“His name is James Derrick,” I said. “He’s a transfer student. That’s all I know.”
“And he’s in your homeroom,” Morgan said.
Like I cared.
. . .
Morgan was all aflutter as we walked together to the east wing of the school’s main floor the next morning.
“Look whose locker is right across from yours,” she said. “Oh my god, Robyn, he’s totally adorable. You know, if things aren’t working out with you and Nick—”
“I never said they weren’t working out. I said things would be a lot easier if Nick wasn’t working two jobs.”
“No kidding,” Morgan said. “Two jobs plus school doesn’t leave much time for a girlfriend.”
I shot her a sour look.
“You know what they say about a bird in the hand, Robyn.” She beamed at James Derrick. He smiled shyly at her before closing his locker and heading down the hall.
“I wonder how he got that limp,” she said.
I had wondered the same thing when he’d walked into homeroom the day before. It was slight but noticeable.
“Not that it matters,” Morgan continued. “Not with a face like that. If I were you—”
“You’re not me, Morgan,” I said, my tone making it clear, I hoped, that the subject was closed.
. . .
I found Morgan and Billy in the cafeteria at lunch, and for once they weren’t stuck to each other. I slipped into one of the two empty chairs opposite them.
“Guess what?” Morgan said. But something caught her eye before she could tell me. She jumped to her feet and waved. “James,” she called. “Over here.”
I glowered at her. “Morgan, I told you I wasn’t inter—”
“Relax, Robyn,” Morgan said. “James is in our French class. He doesn’t know anyone yet. We invited him to have lunch with us.”
“We?” I glanced at Billy.
“Morgan’s idea,” he said defensively. He could always tell when I was suspicious of Morgan’s motives. Morgan glared at him. “But he seems nice,” Billy added quickly. “He volunteered at an animal shelter before he moved here, and the first thing he did when he got to town was sign up to volunteer at the Humane Society.”
That would pretty much make him perfect in Billy’s eyes. Billy was a devoted animal rights activist.
Morgan watched James’s every step as he navigated his way through the crowded cafeteria. He greeted Morgan and Billy and then looked shyly at me.
“This is our friend Robyn Hunter,” Morgan said.
“I know,” James said. He had obviously been paying attention in homeroom. “Are you the Robyn Hunter who’s at the top of the honor roll?”
Morgan tried to hide her irritation.
“Yes, she is,” she said. Morgan usually topped the honor roll, but every now and then I edged her out. When I did, she always congratulated me. But Morgan is competitive, and I knew that she secretly wished her name had come first again last year. “I’m surprised you noticed something like that,” she added.
“I didn’t,” James said. “But my dad did. The honor roll was the first thing he looked at when we came to register me for school.”
I peeled the lid off a yogurt container and kept my head down while I ate. Billy quizzed James about what he was doing at the animal shelter and filled him in on DARC, a bird-rescue organization that Billy had founded. While they talked, Morgan leaned across the table and whispered in my ear: “He’d be perfect for you. He’d be perfect for us. We’d make an amazing foursome ...”
I shook my head impatiently and felt glad when lunch was over.
“Y
ou should come,” Morgan said when she phoned me the next night.
“I don’t know.” I was lying on the bed in the room my dad had set aside for me, my phone pressed to my ear.
“Come on, it’ll be fun, Robyn.”
“It’ll be depressing.”
The “it” in question was a screening of a new docum
entary about climate change that was being held at our school on Friday night. Billy had helped to organize it. Normally I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes, even if the topic was a total downer. But despite knowing Morgan and Billy practically forever, lately when I was with them, I felt like a third wheel.
“Why don’t you ask James to come?” Morgan said.
That again. She kept mentioning James.
“Because I’m going out with Nick,” I said as patiently as I could manage.
“Are you going out with him on Friday night?”
I had been hoping to. Nick hadn’t been scheduled to work at the mall on Friday. But then he’d accepted an extra shift at La Folie. “I need the money, Robyn,” he’d said.
“He has to work,” I told Morgan.
“All the more reason to ask James.”
“No.”
“Okay, okay. But at least come to the movie. Please?”
“I don’t know, Morgan—”
“Come on, Robyn. Nick works practically every night. Are you going to give up on a social life just because he isn’t around? Come to the movie. We’ll do something afterward.”
. . .
Morgan was waiting for me on the school steps on Friday evening, and we went into the auditorium together. A lot of people had turned out for the movie. But I noticed that more than half the audience was made up of adults. When I mentioned it to Morgan, she just shrugged.
“Billy doesn’t care who sees the movie as long as people show up.”
I glanced up at the front of the auditorium, where Billy was talking to Mr. Henson, the biology teacher who had arranged for Billy to use the auditorium and helped to publicize the event. Billy scanned the room happily as people continued to trickle in.
Morgan and I had just found seats when, without warning, she rammed an elbow into my side.
“Hey!” I said.
“Look who’s coming up the aisle,” Morgan whispered.
I turned, hoping against hope that it was Nick.
It was James. I looked suspiciously at Morgan.
At the Edge Page 1