Prank Wars

by Fowers, Stephanie

  Just as I was beginning to think Blake was a no-good liar and gave us false information, I spied Byron next to the treadmills wearing his ARMY t-shirt. He hadn’t started his work-out yet. His hoody was still on and he was deep in conversation with a youngish looking guy with an indeterminate hair color and the usual workout clothes. Definitely someone who could get lost in a crowd.

  I tried not to feel anything when I looked at Byron, but I couldn’t swallow my anger. What was he doing anyway? I wanted him to be the guy I quarreled with, not some shady character who kidnapped poor grad students. Watching him now, he looked tired, but not on the lamb. Either he was innocent of all charges or he was good at what he did. I mentally slapped myself. Seriously? Byron was never innocent. I couldn’t fool myself anymore, even if I desperately wanted him to be what his lies made him out to be. It all seemed ironic now.

  I popped in my earplugs, pretending to listen to music as I unrolled a mat from the corner of the room. I sat down on it and listened to Byron talk to nondescript guy, performing a few sit-ups while I was at it. Sure, it wasn’t the most comfortable cover, but I’d do anything to get my guy—especially one who tore out my heart. I listened closely. So far, Byron was shooting the breeze, but it wasn’t about girls. It was about the weather. That was a major tip-off that something wasn’t right. After what felt like a million sit-ups, they started talking freely just like I knew they would. “You’ve been AWOL the last few days?” his friend said.

  Byron gave a frustrated sound. “Yeah, about that. My phone’s gone missing. That’s not the only thing. Where is she?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s under control.” Was it really? I could only assume they were talking about Thanh, but what if they were talking about real college things like crushes? With no names, it was hard to tell.

  Byron dug his hands into the pockets of his hoody, keeping his expression cool. “I assume you have a plan?”

  The guy turned from me and mumbled under his breath, “...find it for us.” I managed to make out the last part. Byron looked surprised. The other guy swigged down his water. “After that, I give you permission to follow like a lost little puppy. Just make it quick.”

  “Is it the real thing?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re one step ahead.” The guy handed Byron something small and compact. “Don’t lose this one. I need you to—”

  Someone turned the radio on next to me. Are you kidding? I squinted, trying to hear Byron and this guy’s conversation over the noise, but it was useless. Squinting had nothing to do with hearing. Byron gave an easy laugh that broke through the loud music. “I could use a floater like her. She’s got imagination.”

  “Keep her busy.”

  “How?” The radio buzzed every time I came up from a curl. I was in the way of the reception. “She’s so incredibly hot.” I wrinkled my nose. Byron had shifted topics mid-sentence. “I just don’t know if I could tie myself to one girl though. I’m such a player. I can’t help what I am.” My eyes narrowed behind my shades. The conversation had taken a ridiculous turn. Byron hadn’t moved, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know I was here. “I just wish Mad Dog would marry me.”

  They were onto me. I rolled onto my stomach and walked away from the mat, trying to figure out how to complete the next part of my mission with my cover blown. I still had a drop to make.

  I lingered at the front desk, waiting for Byron at the exit. He had to leave sometime. I filled out a whole stack of comment cards at the desk before I got nervous. There wasn’t a back entrance to this place? Before I could desert my post to check, I spotted my target. Byron threw a towel over his shoulder, his hair wet from a shower. I let out a breath, but before I could try anything, he passed me and laughed. “Nice shades.” I scowled after him. He passed me then hesitated at the exit, placing his hand on the door. I didn’t move. He glanced back at me. After treating me to an expressive roll of his eyes, he came back, walking backwards in his Nikes until his shoulder touched mine. He leaned an elbow against the counter. “What are you doing?”

  “Can’t a girl get a work-out without getting harassed?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question? It’s a gym.” Byron plucked the comment card from my hand, purposely invading my personal space, but I didn’t fight him. I studied his face instead. His mischievous eyes held mine a little too long, but other than that, I couldn’t believe how good he was at his cover. After looking confused at my lack of spirit, he read the card I had filled out: “I can honestly say that I’m the person I am today because of these simple workers nay, these astounding workers.” I pulled his iPhone from my pocket, my eyes darting over him to make sure he didn’t notice my sleight of hand. He kept reading, “If this isn’t service with a smile then I know not what is.” Byron broke into a laugh and glanced up at me. I hid his iPhone behind me. “You wrote an essay.” His hand found mine with the pen. “Let me play.” In a trice, he had my pen.

  I clutched his iPhone tighter with my other hand. Before he could get two words down on his comment card, I noticed his duffel bag and got an idea. “Nice bag. What do you have in it—a body?” Before he could fight me, I slid my fingers under the handles and lifted the bag, pretending to weigh it. It actually was a little heavy. “Byron, is it really necessary to bring everything you own to the gym?”

  He didn’t even look distracted. My fingers weren’t fast enough when he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. Couldn’t he blink or something? I pretended to stumble over the weight and he reached out to steady me. I saw my in, slipping his iPhone into the kangaroo pocket of his hoody. My other hand clutched his forearm harder than I intended and I felt his muscles flexing under my hand.

  “No, I’ve got it.” Byron retrieved his gym bag. He tilted his head as if he wanted to say something. I waited. His chest rose in and out, and for a moment our eyes locked, his blue eyes penetrating my dark ones. He covered the moment with an easy laugh. “You should leave this stuff to the professionals, cuz.”

  And that was it. I had lost him forever. I blinked back my frustrated tears. “I can handle more than you think,” I retorted.

  Byron nodded. “Good.” Before he could quite make his exit, he glanced back at me. “Hey, Mad. Check your pocket. I think I left something for you in there.”

  I rummaged through my pockets to pull out a note written on the back of the comment card: Call me.

  Byron put two fingers to his mouth and blew me a kiss before he left me and my slackly hanging jaw. Always two steps ahead like some nerdy chess player. Yes, I was cross! How did he know I was returning his phone? I pushed through the same door he had, and wasn’t surprised to see he had promptly disappeared. My arms fell limply to my sides. He couldn’t know what I was doing. There was no way. I found my car slathered in diamond advertisements and collapsed into the driver’s seat. I leaned my head against the wheel and started my car.

  Country music filled the inside.

  I shot up in my seat. The station was set on country. My fingers ran over the set stations and I found them all set on random channels. I’d never willingly torture myself with this music. “Byron!”

  The message was clear. He could get into my car. He could get into my house. He could get into my pockets. He could do anything he wanted to me. Any sane person would be scared to death, but I was annoyed. I pulled viciously out of the parking lot. He just saw me as an annoying pest he could toy with and throw away. Maybe the fact that he underestimated me would work in my favor. It always did.

  Chapter Three

  Day 113

  1842 hours

  “I can feel the scent of fear, hear the exchanged glances, see the whispered words. You see me watching my laundry, but let’s be honest, I’m watching you.”

  —Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Tuesday, June 5th).

  “The bird has flown the coop,” Lizzie told me on the other line. “I’m the only one on Tweedledee and Tweedledummer.”

  “You’re joking?” Our makeshift sur
veillance had been like this all day. My roommates were supposed to be holed up in the apartment with the twins. Kali couldn’t just abandon Lizzie to them. “What’s her 20?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Kali had the difficult task of stopping Byron from going anywhere after his last class. I still had some more investigating to do. “Do we know where the bird has flown?”

  “Nope.” Lizzie laughed on the other line, having no idea how serious this was. Tory was busy taking a test. It was like no one really believed we were dealing with anything scary like murderers or kidnappers or terrorists.

  “Is she still in radio contact?”

  “She’s not answering her phone. But don’t worry. The targets are in position. We’re playing the ’what-is-my-weakness?’ game. We’ll have Byron’s location in no time.”

  I froze. “Please tell me you are in the bathroom and the twins didn’t hear you say that!”

  “Oops. I guess I forgot to secure the line.”

  I sighed. “Text me all vital information at 1900 hours.”

  “What?”

  “Seven o’clock. That’s in fifteen minutes.” I hung up the phone.

  “You know the school provides free counseling.” Sandra pulled her clothes out of the dryer. Big sunglasses covered half her face. The straps of her red suede heels spiraled around her ankle, coordinating perfectly with her skinny jeans. It seemed days since I last set eyes on her. Ever since Battle of the Bands, she had been completely AWOL. It usually meant there was someone new in her life.

  I sat on the washing machine, trying to decide how to approach this. I dug my camo converses against the metal. “Let’s talk about boys.” Yeah, I just went out and said it. Sandra looked taken aback. “Tell me about when you dated Byron, Sandra.”

  She pulled her clothes out of the dryer faster. “What is there to know?”

  I knew this was going to be difficult from the start. I just shrugged, knowing I was about to do the unthinkable—fake an interest in Byron. “I was just wondering. Where did you meet him?”

  “He’s in our ward.”

  “But you were dating him before either of you moved in.”

  Sandra gave me an angry glare. “We’re done dating. It’s over. If you want to date him then be my guest. I doubt he’s interested.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “To use your own words, my dear, you don’t prank people you want to date. If a guy’s interested, he’ll just ask you out. Get over it.”

  She didn’t just call me dear, did she? I took a deep breath and tried to stay focused. Why should I care if that lowlife wasn’t interested in me anyway? It was about figuring out where he came from. I ignored the sting and plunged ahead. “I’m just conducting a routine background check. I have a good friend who’s interested in him.”

  “A good friend?” She didn’t seem to believe me.

  I answered her with a cocky grin.

  She stopped messing with her clothes long enough to glare at me. “He’s a decent guy, okay? When we broke up, it wasn’t like he went around dissing me or trying to flirt with every girl who moved to get my attention—not like your guy, so I’m sorry, but he’s way out of your league.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Well, good then,” I sputtered. “But how much did he tell you about himself? Does he have any family around? Did you hang out with his friends?”

  She took an exasperated breath. “We weren’t dating for years, honey.”

  I winced at yet another term of endearment. I nervously rolled up my brown lounge pants to the calf. “Where’s he from then?”

  “Nowhere sinister and evil if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  I supposed that meant that she was onto me. “Why the accent then?”

  “Wow, you really have the cross-examination thing down.”

  And she really had the closed-mouth thing down. What was her problem? I’d have to start torturing her soon. I hopped off the washer. “How come you can’t answer any of my questions?”

  “How come you’re asking them?”

  “You know nothing about him, do you? You just dated him because you thought he was hot.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Now she was making me mad. If this were the real world, Sandra had played him good. “Didn’t you care about him at all?”

  She nodded, folding a shirt army regulation style and patting it neatly into her laundry basket. “He liked me.”

  I stiffened. That’s it? “What’s his favorite food?”

  “Chinese.”

  “What does he like to do?”

  “Nothing. Are we through?”

  “Seriously? Pretty much you’re telling me you have no idea who he is. You met him randomly and without knowing anything about him, you went steady then broke up for absolutely no reason and now you hate him?”

  She refused to dignify anything with a response. If Byron really was what I suspected, she’d be the perfect cover. All he had to do was pay attention to Sandra, stroke her ego then bam; he had a reputation and a history. No one would question who he was. Sandra threw the last of her clean clothes in a basket and dragged them out the door of the laundry room on her hip. “What’s going on, Madeleine? Lizzie said you were up to something…like you were way over your head.” It was meant as a slam.

  I smiled. “I’m never over my head.”

  After a moment of waiting and not getting anything more from me, Sandra jerked angrily away. “We’ll see about that.” She stalked out of the laundry room, the door swinging after her.

  I scooped my cell phone from my pocket. It was time to call in my best weapon. She had better be on radio contact.

  Kali answered in a cheerful voice. “Hey, guess who I followed?”

  “Please say Lord Byron.”

  “Yep, the evil general himself.” Finally, some luck. The girl was making more progress than any of us on her first real stakeout. “Blake was like, he’s going out, and I was like, so where’s he going? And he was like, I don’t know, we’re guys, we don’t care what our roommates do, okay? But I knew that was a lie ’cause Adam gave Blake a look, like I can’t read a look. And I was, like, I’m gonna run to the store and get some girl stuff. Lizzie, stay here. I’ll be right back, and Blake wanted to come with me, so cool, huh?”

  I stiffened. “Is Blake in the car with you?”

  “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  Right now she was the best ally I had. “No!” I said quickly.

  “Well,” she sounded slightly mollified. “Good. So now I’m just following Byron’s car to see where he goes.”

  “Do we know who he’s meeting?”

  “That’s a negative, Mad Dog.”

  I winced at the name. “Do we have a 20 yet?”

  “English, Mad.”

  “Do you know where he’s headed?’

  “Negative, but I’m on it. Um, yeah, about that. I’m driving your car right now.”

  I stifled a groan. Kali was trying to shadow Byron’s car in broad daylight with the most noticeable car in existence, especially to him. I hung up and tried to get a firm grip on myself. It was time to use a little psychological warfare. I’d get Byron to talk. Believe me, I’d make him sorry he ever laid eyes on me—I just had to remind myself it was all part of the plan. I found his number. Byron answered it on the first ring. “Hi. Is Mad there?”

  “Don’t play with me. Why do you have my number on your phone?”

  “Usual protocol.” I heard the wind behind him as he spoke. He was outside. “What’s going on?”

  “Do I always need an excuse to call? But now that you mention it, you do know that MormonVille is a small place, right?”

  The sound of wind broke off and was replaced by murmuring and the clinking of glasses and silverware in the background. He had just walked into a building. It probably was a restaurant. Had I interrupted him on a date? I felt absolutely no remorse. “What are you getting at?” he asked after a moment.

  “No o
ne knows who you are. No former mission companions, no former ward members, no former roommates. No friends. No family. Your current roommates and one ex seem to know next to nothing about you.”

  He was silent for a moment. I think I caught him by surprise. “You’ve been checking up on me. I suppose I should be flattered.”

  “Don’t be. Have you seen Thanh lately?”

  “No.” It came out flat.

  “She came back last night and we got to talking. And she had some pretty interesting things to say. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

  “You never asked.” He didn’t miss a beat. “So tell me, how is she recovering from her curfew breaking?” I knew he didn’t believe a thing I said by the tone of his voice.

  “Do you have reservations?” I heard a female voice ask in the background. It sounded like a hostess.

  He fumbled with his iPhone. “Just a sec,” he told us both.

  I listened carefully. “Would you like to be seated?” the same female voice said. “Follow me.”

  Was this a date or something else? If I listened long enough, I would know. I just had to keep him on the phone. “Thanh asked for that note we found on her door,” I continued. “You remember the one. I believe you wrote it…and then you wanted it back again? Thanh’s not sure why you wanted it so badly. You mind telling me?”

  “I never told you that I wrote that note.”

  “Yeah, but that was in front of the children. Face it, Byron. You’re like a soggy brown banana; the only use for you now is to get cooked.”

  That forced a laugh out of him. “Really? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I grinned. No idea. It felt like old times—before he was an evil hit man with kidnapping tendencies. My heart sank at that.

  “Here you are.” I heard the hostess say. I waited for whoever Byron was with to say something. Maybe I could get an ID on the voice.

  “Wait a second,” he told me. “I’ve got a call.” He took the other line and with a click I was treated to soft elevator music. If it was meant to get rid of me, he had another thing coming. Most likely, he did it so he could talk freely to whoever was there, so why didn’t he hang up on me altogether? He came back a few minutes later. “Hey, how about we meet up later tonight?”