Nav flashed his most suave smile in greeting. “Wait for it,” he instructed in a mysterious tone.
Kit wanted to ask what was going on when Josh ran in, followed by Anya. “What is this?” he demanded when he saw his stuff all over the floor.
“This, my friend, is the Too Bad Clause,” Nav practically sang at him. “As in too bad you didn’t listen to me, because I would have offered a myriad of perks had you simply moved out as requested. Instead”— he waved at all the stuff like a game show host revealing a prize — “welcome to your new accommodations!”
Josh wasn’t happy. “You can’t do this! I mean, who put you in charge, out of all people?” He turned to Will for help, and Kit found herself actually feeling sorry for him. She knew about the big roommate switcheroo, though she didn’t know details. She did, however, know that everybody had ended up unhappy about it except for Josh. “Come on, dude,” Josh said to Will. “A bet’s a bet, right?” He was practically pleading, but Will merely shrugged at him.
Elaine sat at a nearby table working on her laptop. “This is a study area,” she stated, “not a personal playground. Besides, you’re all completely daft.”
“What’s she talking about?” Josh demanded, frazzled.
Nav gestured at Elaine as if to say Go on, and she quoted from memory, “‘For health and safety reasons, no student is to leave their assigned room. There are to be no exceptions.’ Covington rule book, page forty-six, regulation five hundred and two A.”
Even Josh couldn’t work a way around that. Defeated, he asked, “Can I at least get some help?”
Kit stepped forward first, followed by Anya.
“Thank you,” Josh told them, and they got to work gathering his belongings.
Will had no interest in helping Josh. True, he was the one who had started this whole roommate merry-go-round, but he felt no responsibility for how much Josh had rubbed Nav’s nose in it. Besides, now Will could go back to the nice big room with Nav and leave Josh to Leo “Snores-Like-a-Construction-Site” Ducasse.
He sat down by Elaine. “Hey. You writing an article?” He’d noticed her laptop screen. It showed a photo of Elaine, next to which a headline read “Life at The Covington Academy with Elaine Whiltshire.”
“Despite my best efforts, Ms. Rooney didn’t seem to find me as interesting as she did Kit,” Elaine admitted.
Will was aware of Elaine’s resentment for all the attention that Kit drew. Personally, he didn’t care what the world thought about him, but he knew how much Elaine valued what she referred to as her “public face.” He said to her, “You don’t have to be in an article to be interesting.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“But it’s true.”
“I’m trying to get my portfolio together for my Oxford application. Being featured in an article would have really helped and yet . . .”
Will knew that getting into Oxford was Elaine’s ultimate life goal. Everything she did, from volunteering for the smallest bake sale to riding in the biggest competition — all of it had been carefully plotted out by her and her parents to help her get into Oxford.
Will could not relate to that. As much as he knew that he should prepare for his future, his parents had never helped him make plans. They didn’t care what he did, as long as he did it well, upheld the family name, and didn’t bother them. So Will had gravitated to what interested him the most — horses. But making a “horse plan”? He didn’t know how to make one of those, or any other kind of plan. Nobody had ever shown him how to do that.
No wonder his academics were horrid.
Shaking off his thoughts, he stood up. “You’ve got plenty to offer as you are,” he told Elaine, and he tapped the Close button on her laptop. The faux article vanished.
As he sauntered away, Elaine called out, “Thank you, Will.”
Will called back, “G’night, Whiltshire.”
When Kit and Anya finished helping poor Josh settle back into his side of the room with Leo, they decided to go to Rose Cottage and get some studying done. The second Anya saw Kit’s memory box, however, she had to see what was inside.
The girls sat on the window seat and pawed through photos and knickknacks, but they kept going back to the Box of Kittens concert badge.
“Maybe your mom traveled all around going to music festivals,” suggested Anya.
Kit was shuffling through photographs her mother had taken when she was young. “She liked to take pictures. Maybe she was a photographer for some huge band or something.”
“Maybe she was in the band!” Anya said.
Kit imagined how cool that would be. If it were true, though, what could possibly have made her mother stop? And why keep it a secret? Kit might have grown up with Garth Brooks as a family friend or something!
She was about to voice this thought when someone rapped on the door. Daisy sailed in. “I’ve just come to say bye,” the reporter said cheerfully. “You, my darling,” she aimed at Kit, “have been soooo helpful.”
Kit grinned, though she noticed how Anya frowned. Kit understood Anya’s dislike of Daisy now, but she still hoped that the reporter might help find TK. “Good,” she told Daisy. “Great!”
“Okay, then!” Daisy said, giving Kit a quick hug. “I’m off! Ciao!”
She was almost out the door when Kit managed to blurt out, “Wait! Daisy!”
Daisy turned around.
“Did you find out anything?”
“About . . . ?”
“The stuff you promised to look into for me? My mom? My horse? Anything . . . ?”
Daisy adopted an expression of total innocence.
Kit got desperate. “I really need this information, because I can’t find out anything about either of them!”
“Right. Well,” Daisy said, “Rupert didn’t know your mum at all. And, um, I’ll try and work the horse thing into the article, okay?”
Kit had always heard the phrase “to have the rug jerked out from under you.” Now she knew what it meant. “You promised,” she said in a small voice.
“No, luv,” Daisy corrected her. “I promised to try. Ta-ta, then!”
Daisy was gone, and so were Kit’s hopes. She sank down on the couch, crestfallen.
Suddenly Dabney the dragon appeared next to her and said in a high squeaky voice, “I’m sorry.”
Kit tried to smile but failed.
Anya pulled the Dabney puppet off her hand and knelt down next to Kit. “I know you were counting on that.”
“I just don’t get it. Nothing makes sense anymore. I thought this would bring me closer to my mom, but now I feel further away from her than ever.”
Kit reached out her toe to kick the box closed.
The next morning, Kit and Anya walked to class together under a perfect blue sky. A light breeze carried the scent of moist earth and grass, and birds cheeped and twittered pleasantly. It was the kind of morning that usually filled Kit’s heart with joyful expectation.
But not this time.
“Maybe we could go to the village later for a little outing,” Anya suggested as they walked arm in arm.
“Yeah.” Kit sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Or we could beg the cook to let us make one of those ice-cream Saturday things. Is that what they’re called?”
“Maybe,” Kit said, distracted.
When they reached the steps leading up to the main building, they ran into Nav and Josh. “Good morning,” Nav greeted them. To Kit, he said, “May I borrow you for a moment?”
“Sure,” Kit said numbly. She followed Nav to a spot under a shady oak tree and waited, her brain feeling dull, her thoughts pointless.
Nav beamed at her. “I have news for you, and I think it will make you very happy.”
“Good luck with that. I’m not in a great mood today.”
“Well, that’s about to change.”
Kit tried to rally some enthusiasm. Whatever Nav wanted to say obviously held great meaning for him. She felt like a big waste
of cosmic space, but she didn’t want to make him feel that way, too. “Okay, so try me,” she said, forcing a smile.
“I didn’t tell you last night because I wasn’t sure,” Nav began. “But now I’m quite certain.” He paused. “I’ve found TK!”
Kit’s entire body reacted in one split second. Her heart raced, her skin prickled, her thoughts grew sharp as tacks, and her hopelessness vanished. “Are you serious?” she squealed.
Kit and Nav speed-walked into English class and made it to their seats just as class officially began. “Right to the wire,” Sally noted sternly, but she let it go at that. “Good morning, all,” she told the whole class. “The first topic today is surely going to be your very favorite — the upcoming midterm examinations!” She began to write on the blackboard.
Kit immediately turned around and whispered to Nav behind her, “You’re sure? You’re sure that it’s TK? My TK?”
“I’m quite sure. But for now, you have to try to keep the information secret. We cannot have Lady Covington alerted.”
“What do we do next? How do we get to France?”
“TK is not in France. My information puts him in the next county.”
“He’s here? Lady Covington lied about where she sent him?”
“It seems a feasible explanation.”
“Do the two of you have something to say on the matter?”
Kit about-faced to find Sally looking down her nose at her. Sally rarely became angry in class (or ever, really), but the subject of midterm exams were, Kit knew, highly important. Sally was not happy with their whisperings.
Like a knight riding to the rescue, Nav diverted Sally’s attention away from Kit and onto himself. “Your midterm review schedule is perfect, Miss Warrington,” he gushed. “I’m sure we will all succeed. We could hardly fail after all your diligent work.”
That’s laying it on a little thick, Kit thought, but it worked. Sally looked like she was trying not to smile, but Kit could see that Nav’s absurdly bloated praise clearly tickled her — especially since she hadn’t yet written the schedule down. Kit saw the chalk in her hand, but the chalkboard was blank except for one word: MIDTERM. Oops, she thought.
“Thank you, Nav” was all Sally said to him. To the class, she continued, “These handouts will remind you which authors we will be reviewing.” She gestured for everyone to come take a handout.
As students got up and meandered to the front, Kit spun back around, saying to Nav, “One county over? What are we still doing here?”
“We need a solid plan,” Nav insisted. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. It should be easier to slip away. Could we ask your father if —?”
“No. He’s not a big fan of me finding TK. I maybe brought that on myself with the whole running-away-to-London biz. . . .”
“We will have to find our own way, then. Are you up for an adventure tomorrow?”
Did he need to ask? “Always,” she said. She was always ready for TK. She was so excited, she could hardly stand it. “I’m going to find my horse!”
Anya was worried about Kit. Nav had taken her away earlier to deliver some kind of secret message, and Anya hadn’t had a chance to talk with her since.
“We need to do something for her,” she told Josh. She’d come to the tuckshop to buy Kit a candy bar and had ended up dumping all of her worries on him. “And she still doesn’t have her happy face back. You know, the one she had before TK went away?”
Josh was chewing his thumbnail, thinking. “Do you know what she needs?” he said. “A surprise dinner! You know, with awesome comfort food?”
Anya laughed. “You’re just saying that because you’re hungry.”
“Okay, yeah, usually true,” Josh agreed sheepishly. “But I kind of feel like Kit just needs something that says home. Hey! What if we threw her, like, a real Thanksgiving dinner? You know, we’ll invite us and Nav and Will?”
Nav joined the group just as Anya said, “I like it!”
“Yeah, and then, bam! We kill it,” Josh said, “by making her turducken!”
Anya had never heard of turducken. A glance at Nav told her that he had no idea what Josh was talking about, either. “Okay, now you’re speaking another language.”
Josh’s explanation came with comically accurate hand motions. “It’s a chicken. In a duck. Stuffed inside a turkey. It’s good!”
“That sounds . . . ambitious,” Anya said. “We don’t have the whole day —”
Nav cut in. “Who says that you don’t? I could call us a car, take her into the village to keep her busy —”
“But you’d need a permission slip and then a guardian —”
Nav stopped Anya again. “Leave that to me. If anyone asks, say that you just saw us.” He winked and left.
“Pie!” Josh shouted, apparently still wrapped up in his food daydream. “We could have pie!”
“Small reality check. How are we going to cook all this?”
Josh waved his arms around. “That is a problem for my future self, okay? Don’t rain your logic down on the artist! Wait — oh, oh! Mashed potatoes! Oh, and gravy, we could have gravy!”
If either of them had known that Elaine was listening in, they might have lowered their voices. As it was, Elaine heard all about their plans, especially about who they were going to invite.
Her name had not been mentioned.
Kit was so excited! I’m going to see TK! she thought as she pawed through a pile of clean laundry. She’d been so busy yesterday that she didn’t have time to fold it, and now she needed to find her warm sweater and her cap for her “adventure” with Nav. And her jacket, she definitely needed that. Where was it, anyway? “Have you seen my jacket?” she asked Anya.
Anya was busy preparing for her day, too. “It’s over there on your vanity,” she answered, her head in her wardrobe.
“What are you doing today?” Kit asked her.
“Nothing,” Anya said quickly as she backed out of the wardrobe. “Why? What have you heard?”
“Nothing,” said Kit. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not.” Anya closed her wardrobe. “Why are you being weird?”
Something was definitely up, and Kit was curious. She had learned long ago that the best way to learn a secret was to offer one first, so she said, “I’m kind of doing something with Nav, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you what.”
“Ah, I already know! He’s taking you out into town so that we can make —” Anya slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Make me what?” Kit urged.
Anya lowered her hand. “We’re making you a turducken. To cheer you up about TK and stuff.” Guilt flashed in her eyes. “I promised I’d never lie to you again, and I guess that makes me terrible at keeping secrets. Promise to act surprised?”
Kit laughed. “I will be, if you actually pull that off!”
“It does sound a bit challenging,” said Anya, but enthusiasm grew in her voice as she went on. “But Josh assures me that cooking one is ‘no problemo’! So Nav’s in on the turducken plan. We just really wanted to cheer you up.”
Kit smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. Oh, that rascally Nav! One secret plan on a Saturday afternoon wasn’t enough for him. No, he had to get involved in two, and he actually made them dovetail. All she could say to that was, “I can’t wait for dinner!”
Anya furrowed her brow. “But seriously? I think you’ll be waiting a long time, because I’m not quite sure I trust Josh on the whole ‘no problemo’ thing.”
“Probably smart,” said Kit. “You’re so good!” She gave Anya a hug.
Sally Warrington loved teaching at Covington, but she loved Saturdays even more so.
Every Saturday morning, she spent extra time in the dining hall after most everyone else was gone. She would sit at the head table and enjoy two warm croissants, a nice hot latte, and the weekly newspaper crossword puzzle. She wasn’t a crossword fanatic or anything. The village newspaper just happened to print unusually interesting crosswor
d puzzles. And unlike too many of her literature students, she enjoyed challenging her intellect once in a while.
When Rudy bumbled in with a laptop and sat down right next to her, she didn’t mind. She was willing to share her Saturday morning ritual with anyone, especially her favorite cowboy.
“Good morning,” Rudy said. “I see you’re enjoying some peace and quiet. Don’t worry — you won’t even know I’m here.”
Sally gave him a smile and went back to her crossword while Rudy opened up his laptop. Boop beepbeep bop! the machine signaled loudly, and a recorded voice blared, “It’s time to play Goody Grab!”
Rudy jumped in his seat, then chuckled in embarrassment. “Sorry. Clicked the wrong doohickey.”
Sally certainly understood that. How many times had she herself clicked the wrong doohickey? Once that wrong doohickey had caused her to wipe out her entire semester class schedule. After that she’d made a point of learning more about computers and their many, many doohickeys. “Do you need some help?” she asked Rudy.
“Nope, all good,” he answered, eyes glued to the laptop screen.
Sally went back to her crossword, only to hear two seconds later, “Are you sure you want to delete all files?”
Rudy made a rather high-pitched noise of alarm and jabbed at the keys.
“Delete all files,” the computer confirmed.
“Quite seriously,” Sally said, “I don’t mind helping.”
“Nah, I got it.”
Rudy was such a typical guy, rejecting any help when it came to operating a machine. It seemed to Sally that quite a lot of men insisted they could operate any piece of machinery near them, as if they could suck the knowledge out of thin air and then perform the needed operations perfectly. She had witnessed the results of several such situations, and they rarely came to satisfactory conclusions. In fact, they quite often led to entertaining disasters involving parts falling off and lots of smoke. Her friends told her that it was “a guy thing.” She considered it a terribly cute guy thing. Nothing amused her more than watching a grown man fighting a hopeless battle with a mechanical object.
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