“Ew,” Lindsey says as they pass my locker. “Is that maple syrup?” Charlotte pauses in front of us, but Tally shakes her head and she walks on past.
“Let’s go,” Tally says. She starts toward the restroom.
“Tally, wait,” I say. “I want to do this.” She nods and keeps going. “Alone,” I say.
“Oh,” Tally says, stopping and looking at me. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
“Well, I’ll go find the janitor,” she says. She heads toward the office.
I walk over to the puddle. I slide my palm across the floor until it’s covered in syrup and head toward the restroom. I’m not exactly sure why I want the syrup, but somehow it seems fitting. I push open the door with my clean hand and walk inside. Two girls are standing at the sinks and talking. Charity is at the far end, putting on lip gloss. The two girls look at me and my hand dripping with maple syrup and then at Charity, then back to me. Then they leave. Charity doesn’t even look over. She finishes putting on her lip gloss and slides it back into her bag. Then she turns to face me.
“What?” she asks.
“Why?” I ask. I hate that my voice breaks in the middle of that one word.
“Why what?” Charity asks.
“Seriously?” I ask. “Let’s see. Nacho cheese, ruining my project, and now this.” I hold up the hand covered in maple syrup.
Charity laughs. It’s sharp and harsh like breaking glass. “My father did mention that the Rotary was missing a couple of jugs of maple syrup. I wondered what happened to them.” She tilts her head at me. “Let me guess,” she says, tapping her perfectly manicured finger against her lips. “Your locker?”
“Like you don’t know,” I ask.
“Wait. You think I did this?” Charity just rolls her eyes at me.
“Of course you did it,” I say. “It’s the same thing you were doing weeks ago.”
“Like you said. That was weeks ago.” Charity inspects her nails. Then she looks at me. “I didn’t pour syrup into your locker,” she says. “Or cheese.”
“What about my sculpture?” I ask.
“Also not me,” she says.
“I don’t believe you,” I say.
“Like I care,” Charity says. “Are we done here?” She picks up her books and tries to walk past me, but I block her way.
“So that’s it, then?” I ask.
“What do you want from me?” Charity asks.
“I want you to swear you didn’t do this,” I say. “Or at least say you’ll never do it again.”
“Oh, Penny, whether it’s me or someone else,” she says, gesturing toward my hand, “this will never stop. You’re soft and weak, and you let everyone walk all over you.”
“That’s not true,” I protest.
“Isn’t it?” Charity asks.
That makes me pause for a split second. And I hate her for it. For making me doubt myself. But maybe I hate her more because I’m afraid she’s right. She steps around me and moves toward the door. She turns at the last moment. “You might want to wash that hand off before you go to class.”
Then she’s gone.
I rinse my hand off and then push out of the restroom. I stomp down to my locker. I must look crazed because people actually step back to make room for me. I stop when I see someone standing in front of my locker with a handful of paper towels. Marcus. I don’t want to see him.
“Penny?” Marcus says. “I thought you might need some help.”
“I’ve got this,” I say. I take a deep breath, then reach through the goo still oozing through the vents and dial my combination. It takes three tries before I can get it open. When I finally pull the door open, more syrup pours down my arm. I fling my hand at the lockers, sending a spattering of syrup everywhere. Then the tears come.
“Hey,” Marcus says. “It’s just a little syrup.”
“This,” I say, pointing my sticky finger toward the mess, “is not a little syrup.”
“It’s okay,” Marcus says.
“No, it’s not okay,” I say. “None of this is okay.” I glare at him.
“Let me help you,” he says. I look at him, but all I can see is him with Charity.
“I know about you and Charity,” I say.
“You know what about me and Charity?” he asks. It’s obvious I don’t mean just that she used to tutor him.
“You should have told me,” I say. My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. Not now.
“I should have told you what?” Marcus asks.
I swallow hard and say, “About last summer. And that you didn’t want to go to the movies with me because you wanted to hang out with her.”
“What are you talking about?” Marcus asks. “I wasn’t with Charity. I was with my dad.”
“I saw you,” I say. I glare at him, daring him to deny it.
“Oh,” he says, realizing. “It’s not what you think.”
I shake my head and turn away. “Forget it,” I say. I slam my locker shut, sending syrup flying over everything within four feet of me. “Just leave me alone.” I walk away from him and he lets me. I head toward the office. I want out. I want to be away from here. But first I want to find Tally.
Charlotte calls out to me, but I ignore her. I hurry down to the office, where Tally was headed. But the secretary tells me she sent Tally over to the gym to find the janitor. I turn to head back out into the hall and run smack into Blake. I mean, literally run into him. I bounce off and stumble backward.
“Hey,” Blake says. “Where’s the fire?”
“I have to find Tally,” I say, my voice on the edge of panic.
“Okay,” Blake says, following me. “Where are we going?”
Tally isn’t in the gym. The coach tells us he sent her over to the shop to find the janitor. He sniffs the air. “Do I smell pancakes?”
Blake and I run to the shop, but she’s not there either. “I sent her to the cafeteria,” the shop teacher says. He sniffs. “What is that smell?” he asks.
We finally find her in the kitchen, standing in front of the sink. She’s squirting soap into a bucket of water. “Where’s the janitor?” I ask.
“On break,” Tally explains. “Well, tell me,” she says, shutting off the water. “How did it go?”
“She said it wasn’t her,” I say. I feel tears welling up in my eyes.
“Of course it was her,” Tally says. “She’s just saying that to keep from getting in trouble.”
I shake my head. “She didn’t care about that before. Last time she actually seemed proud of what she’d done to me.”
“Well, if it wasn’t her, there’s only one other person it could be.”
“I know you’re going to tell me it was Esmeralda, but she wouldn’t do this.” I hold up my hand, which is still sticky from the maple syrup. “She helped me with my project—”
“Which she destroyed,” Tally says.
“And she stood up for me a couple of days ago. And last night—” I take a deep breath and tell her everything that Esmeralda said. About how mean Charity is. Which both Tally and Blake say is true. And then about Charity and Marcus.
“That doesn’t sound like Marcus,” Tally says. She looks at Blake for confirmation. He is very engaged in reading the sign listing safety protocols for kitchen staff.
“Huh,” he says. “Did you know you should wash your hands for at least sixty seconds?”
“Blake?” Tally asks.
Blake sighs. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You don’t have to talk,” Tally says. “Just yes or no. Do you think Marcus kissed Charity?”
“No,” Blake says. Then he groans. “Can I please be excused from this conversation?”
“Yes,” Tally says. Then she turns back to me. “Listen. I think Charity is the devil, but there’s something a little too sneaky about all of this. This doesn’t feel like Charity’s brand of evil. I’m sorry, Penny, but there’s only one other person it could be.
”
“I’m an idiot,” I say.
“Why? Because you trusted that someone was who she said she was?” Tally asked. I nod. “Better that than becoming cynical.” Blake leans against the wall and watches us like we’re some fascinating reality show. “Besides, if Esmeralda really is evil—”
“Then she lied about Charity and Marcus.” And I realize that was the real damage. Cheese and syrup can be washed out. Dirigibles can be fixed. But trust is something much harder to mend.
The door leading to the cafeteria bursts open and Charlotte comes in. “There you are,” she says. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“What do you want?” I ask. For all I know, she was in on everything. “Did Charity send you here to spy on us?”
Charlotte shakes her head and looks at Tally. “You didn’t tell Penny?”
Tally’s cheeks get pink. “Not exactly.”
“Tell me what?” I ask.
Tally puts her hand on my arm. “Charlotte’s on our side,” she says. “She went in undercover.”
“And it paid off,” Charlotte says. She holds out her phone.
“Wait,” I say, putting up my hand. I turn to Tally. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d go for it.” Tally bites her lip. “Are you mad?”
I sigh and shake my head. “I might be later, but I’m all out of mad right now.” Then I look at Charlotte. “I thought you decided to be friends with Charity again.”
“No way,” Charlotte says. “I’m done with her. And even more done with Esme.” Usually Charlotte is so timid. The venom in her voice is slightly shocking. She holds her phone up again. “You have to see this.”
Tally, Blake, and I all huddle around Charlotte’s phone. She taps the screen and a video begins playing. It’s Charity and Esmeralda. They are sitting at a table and filling gallon Ziplocs with nacho cheese from a big industrial-size can. The image is blurry and keeps cutting in and out, but it’s clear who it is.
“Sorry,” Charlotte says. “I know it’s not the best, but I couldn’t let them know I was filming them.” Then she pokes the screen again. The next video is of Esmeralda stomping on my dirigible. Charity is nowhere in sight.
“Oh,” I say. I cringe each time her foot crunches into my sculpture. It feels like she’s kicking me as much as she’s kicking my dirigible.
Charlotte looks at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what she was going to do until it was too late to stop her. It was already wrecked by the time I got there. I thought I’d just better get it on film.”
Tally nods. “You did the right thing.” Charlotte smiles sadly at her. The video finishes with Esmeralda laughing and kicking the dirigible into the corner.
“There’s one more,” Charlotte says. She pokes the screen again. It’s blurry at first, but then it focuses. Esmeralda is looking directly into the camera. “I got this one from Esmeralda’s phone,” Charlotte says.
“You can do that?” Blake asks.
“Yeah, all you have to do is—”
Tally shushes them.
“Wait, wait,” the person filming says. The camera swivels and Charity’s face fills the screen. She’s barely able to speak, she’s laughing so hard. Then it swivels back to Esmeralda. “Do that last one again.” Esmeralda launches into what is obviously an impression of Tally. It’s not pretty. It’s mean. Really mean. Charlotte goes to stop it, but Tally shakes her head. Esmeralda goes on to imitate me and then Blake and then half a dozen other people. The last imitations are of the minions. Esmeralda uses a headband and a hair bow to differentiate which ones she’s imitating. Charity almost drops the phone, she’s laughing so hard. Then it’s Charity’s turn to do the imitations and Esmeralda’s turn behind the lens. Then it’s finally over.
“Well, Esmeralda’s better, but Charity’s meaner,” Tally says. “You have to give them that much.”
I think back over all of Esmeralda’s schemes. Some of them are obvious. Marcus. The dirigible. The syrup. But some of them are just weird. “Charity put a note in my locker that told me to be careful. Why’d she do that?”
Charlotte shook her head. “That was me.” I feel sort of dumb about that one. I had just assumed the C stood for Charity. “You wouldn’t talk to me, and Tally was gone. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“So everything about Marcus and Charity?” I ask. I know the answer. I just want it confirmed.
Charlotte shakes her head. “There was never any Marcus and Charity. Charity wanted there to be for sure. But he was never interested.” I’m beyond happy for a moment, but then I remember the hugging on the street in Lancaster. And I feel my happiness leak away. Maybe Charlotte doesn’t know everything.
The door to the cafeteria swings open again and one of the lunch ladies walks in. “Out,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am,” Blake says. We each grab something from the pile of cleaning supplies that Tally assembled. Then we all head out through the cafeteria and into the hall.
“I hate that she’s just going to get away with all of this,” Charlotte says when we get to my locker.
“No one is getting away with anything,” Tally says.
“That’s my girl,” Blake says. Then he freezes.
“What did you just say?” Tally asks.
“I said cats lie curl,” he says. He looks up at the clock. “I’ve got to go.” He’s away from us and down the hall before any of us can respond.
Tally grins and does a little dance with the mop she’s carrying. Happiness is pouring off of her, making both me and Charlotte smile, too. She finally stops dancing and we start toward my locker again.
“So you have a plan?” Charlotte asks.
“Not yet,” Tally says. “But I will.” I’ve seen that look on Tally’s face before. If I’m right, Esmeralda and Charity are in for a big surprise.
After school, Tally asks me if I want to walk downtown with her. The booths are all set up and some of the vendors are starting to set their things out on their tables. Winter Fest doesn’t officially begin until the next morning, but the town has already started to fill up with people. The sidewalks are full with tourists going in and out of the shops and peeking into the store windows. More than a few are munching on cupcakes, which makes me glad we baked so many extra.
Tally keeps checking her watch. “You could just tell me,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Not until I know for sure.” Then she turns and says, “Hey, they finished the Ice House. Let’s go see.” We thread our way through the crowds and get in line with everyone else waiting for a chance to go inside. I spot Gram and Dutch standing together on the other side of the park. I nudge Tally and point. Then we see a big truck pulling a trailer filled with what would have to be the pieces of the pool. Gram walks over and gestures to a spot in the corner of the park well away from any of the vendors. The truck’s alarm begins beeping as it backs up.
The line of people waiting to go into the Ice House is long. A volunteer tries to move people forward, but everyone wants photos of each room. Finally it’s our turn. It really is amazing. There are two big rooms, one on either side of the walk-through. One is a kitchen with ice carved to look like a table and chairs and even an ice bowl full of ice fruit. The other room is a bedroom with an ice bed, an ice dresser, and an ice rocking chair.
“Wow,” I say.
“It’s pretty cool,” Tally says. Then she laughs at what she just said. There’s a long line of people waiting so we can’t linger for very long. We walk out into the park. From where we’re standing, we can see the bank. A banner is hung out front advertising the art auction and inviting people to come in and see the sculptures. Tally and I stand and watch the people streaming in and out. I glance over to where Gram and Dutch are watching the workmen setting up the pool. They look like they have things handled for the moment.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go see.”
Tally looks at me. “Are you sure? I mean, I completely understand if you don�
�t want to.”
I pull her sleeve. “Come on.”
We walk across the grassy area in front of the Town Office. All of a sudden Tally puts up her hand. “Stop!”
I freeze. “What?” I ask. She points at the grass right where I was about to step. “Ew,” I say, skirting the giant pile of dog poop.
“I hate that,” Tally says. “I mean, how hard is it to just pick up after your dog?” She sighs. “I’ll get a bag from inside. You stay here so no one else will step in it.” She heads toward the steps of the bank. Above her the door opens and out strolls Esmeralda, wearing a cropped winter coat over a bright green dress and tall tan suede boots. As usual she looks like she just stepped out of a magazine. She squints at the sunshine and pauses. She reaches into her purse, pulls out a pair of sunglasses, and puts them on. Then she starts forward again, the heels of her boots making ringing noises on the marble steps. When she sees us, she smiles brightly.
“Oh, hi, Tally—” she says. Then she looks at me. “Oh, Penny, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says. The seeing as how your sculpture was pulverized and therefore not part of the show goes unsaid.
I walk over to where Tally and Esmeralda are standing. Esmeralda sniffs. “I smell maple syrup,” she says. “I guess they’re setting up early for the pancake breakfast.”
“We know,” I say.
Esmeralda tilts her head. “You know what?” she asks.
“Everything,” I say.
“That’s a little vague,” she says. She smiles, but it’s not quite as bright as it usually is. Neither Tally nor I say anything else. We just wait her out.
“Well,” Esmeralda says finally. “I’m not sure what you think you know.”
“We know it was you,” I say. “The cheese, the syrup, my project. All of it.”
She frowns and shakes her head. “I can’t imagine what gave you that idea,” she says. She smiles again, but it’s no longer lovely. It’s positively predatory.
I open my mouth to tell her about Charlotte’s video, but Tally starts talking before I can say anything. “You don’t have to admit it to us. Charity already squealed. Just how much longer do you think she’ll keep your secret? Just how long until you get caught?”
Frosted Kisses Page 17