How Perfect You Are (Carlson College Mysteries Book 1)

by Isabel Fox

  “I’m going to bed,” I said. “Remember, we promised Jenna we’d get her coffee and doughnuts or scones or something from Joanne’s in the morning for her birthday. I’m not going by myself, so you’d better be up!”

  “Ugh! Fine,” Amber groaned dramatically, collapsing back into a pile of pillows and clothes. With a smile, I left her room. Before heading to my own room I came halfway down the stairs to check on Jenna and Brooklyn, both of whom were now fast asleep on opposite ends of the couch, their legs meeting in a tangle of feet and blankets in the middle. I reached for the light switch and shut off the lights.

  In the sudden darkness I found myself unable to see anything at all, and while waiting for my vision to adjust my eyes were drawn to what little light the moon was giving off. For a split second I could have sworn there was a dark shape just beyond the living room window on the porch. Moments later, though, my eyes adjusted and I could see that there was nothing there.

  I shook my head. “Willow, I’m losing it,” I said to the cat, who was dozing at the top of the stairs. With a final bedtime pat for Willow, I made it to my room, threw on some pajamas, and spent the rest of the night blissfully asleep with nothing strange to bother me.

  5

  Amber swore under her breath when we saw the zig zagged line at least twelve people long around the interior of Joanne’s Cafe at eight o’clock Saturday morning. We managed to squeeze ourselves in behind a family with two young kids who were occupying themselves by playing hide and seek amongst the legs of the chairs and tables nearby, much to the chagrin of the occupants.

  I shot Amber a smirk, knowing how much little kids annoyed her. In return she rolled her eyes and turned her focus to the giant menu behind the counter. Thankfully, Joanne had been working at the cafe for probably longer than I’d been alive. She and her employees were on top of their game, pouring, blending, whipping, steaming, and sprinkling like a well oiled machine. Before long we were leaving the shop with a variety of caffeinated beverages and assorted pastries that smelled absolutely heavenly.

  Amber slurped half of her latte in one long gulp. Never a morning person, it was always advisable to keep conversation with her to a minimum until she’d had a healthy dose of caffeine. She surprised me by initiating conversation well before her preferred blood caffeine content had been reached, though.

  “Did you get any more weird text messages?” she asked, lifting her feet to rest them on the dash. I shot her a look and she lowered them, having the courtesy to look sheepish.

  “Sorry, I forgot. So, did you?” she asked again.

  “Well, I did get a weird one from work, but that was just Susan-weird,” I replied truthfully. Upon waking up I had a text message from Susan demanding to know why I had neglected to include in the reservation notes that a guest was allergic to quail eggs. The answer to which, of course, was that A) we had never before had quail eggs on the menu at the Walker Inn and thus I was not aware I should have even asked about it, and B) the guest did not tell me they had a quail egg allergy, which I remained unconvinced was even a thing one could be allergic to. I couldn’t wait to return to work and hear the story behind that one, though it would undoubtedly come with a long lecture about responsibility and customer service from Susan.

  “Hmm,” Amber mused, “I guess that’s a good thing. Maybe it was just a series of weird coincidences and pranks, or whatever.”

  “I’d like to think so,” I agreed. “Besides, what else could it be? I know Jenna would say I might have a stalker, but honestly, I’m not that interesting. Who’d want to stalk me?”

  “I could see you having a stalker,” Amber reasoned, as though it were a perfectly normal, even complimentary, thing to say. “You’ve got the sweet, pretty, smart, girl next door thing going on.”

  “Well, thanks. I think. Don’t stalkers prefer, you know, celebrities, or former lovers who dumped and spurned them, or something like that? What does being like any other small town girl have to do with being stalked?” I asked with a half laugh.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Amber laughed. “I mean, it is pretty silly. Who in a town like Carlson has a stalker? It really is too boring here for anything that exciting to happen, no offense,”

  “None taken. I may have lived here a long time, but I have no ego wrapped up in the place,” I replied. “And, technically, I hadn’t even lived in Carlson my whole life, remember? I moved here to live with Eileen when I was seven.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right. Still,” Amber said slowly, trailing off for so long I wondered if she’d zoned out, “maybe you should, you know...be careful. Extra careful, I mean.”

  “Well, duh,” I replied as I pulled into the driveway. “I’m always careful. I carry my keys between my knuckles in parking lots, avoid serial killer vans, walk in well lit places, all that good stuff.”

  Amber started to say something else as we got out of the car and headed towards the house, but as we came in the front door I heard an “Ow! Shit!” from the kitchen and immediately went to investigate.

  “What happened?” I asked, setting down the coffees as Amber deposited the box of baked goods.

  Brooklyn was examining a half foot long scratch running the length of her forearm.

  “Stupid Willow! I was trying to pet her and the little monster clawed me!”

  “She doesn’t like you!” Amber and I answered at the same time. It was true. Brooklyn had always been a little much for Willow, who preferred humans with calm, quiet movements and low pitched voices. Ebullient and occasionally squeaky Brooklyn was her worst nightmare, and consequently the cat refused any and all advances she made towards her.

  “Getting a jump start on your daily sugar intake?” I asked Jenna, who was leaning against the refrigerator, licking the frosting off one of the cupcakes.

  “Uh huh,” Jenna replied, her mouth full. She opened the pastry box and poked around “Oh, a croissant!”

  “Do you still want to go hiking today? Because if not, I think you’re doing the carb loading thing wrong,” I commented.

  “Yeah! I mean, if you’re still up for it,” Jenna simultaneously blushed and smiled to herself. I nodded, and Brooklyn shrugged agreeably, though not before shooting me a surprised glance.

  “Well, I still have to work, so you’ll have to count me out,” Amber replied. “Another fun day of ringing up groceries, hooray!”

  “Do we need to go get your car?” I asked, remembering we had left it at the restaurant so I could drive everyone home.

  “Thanks, but James is going to come pick me up and drive me to it in a little bit,” Amber answered, referring to her older brother. “You all have fun. Don’t get eaten by bears or anything.” Taking her coffee, she started toward her room. Pausing, she turned back and looked directly at me.

  “Really. Be careful,” she added with a surprisingly serious expression, her gray eyes meeting mine. Not sure what to say, I nodded. Satisfied, Amber continued up the stairs, leaving me to wonder if I was seriously underestimating my situation.

  6

  "Oh. My. God.” Brooklyn’s words were punctuated by gasping breaths. She was bent over, hands on her knees, her blonde ponytail coming loose so that small wisps clung to her face. “Jenna. I thought you said this was an easy hike.”

  “It is!” Jenna looked annoyed at having to stop yet again, but honestly, I was with Brooklyn. We weren’t so much hiking as we were mountain climbing.

  “If by easy you mean borderline deadly, then I agree!” Brooklyn snapped.

  “Oh, come on! What happened to all those Pilates classes you were doing over the summer?” Jenna rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch.

  “Uh, excuse me! Do you see a Reformer anywhere?” Brooklyn gestured broadly to our surroundings while Jenna and I exchanged confused looks. I saw plenty of trees, rocks, a squirrel, and what looked to be a grove of poison ivy, but nothing I would call a “reformer.”

  “What’s a reformer?” Jenna finally asked at the same time that I said, “A what?”
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br />   “A Pilates machine, duh,” Brooklyn said, shaking her head and giving us a look as though we had asked who the president was.

  “Huh. I didn’t realize Pilates had machines,” I shrugged. “You know I’m more of a treadmill kind of gal.”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s totally great! There’s this one move that will give you the best abs, and-” Brooklyn finally got moving, and as we continued up the mountain she went on an in-depth lecture, punctuated by occasional gasps for breath, of various Pilates related things. Finally, we seemed to be reaching what I hoped to God was the top of the mountain.

  Top or not, the view was spectacular. Clear, brilliant blue skies wrapped around the border of the mountains, which were a dazzling display of every autumn leaf color known to man.

  “Whoa,” I breathed. Though I had lived in the area most of my life, I never got tired of the scenery. Even Brooklyn stopped talking about something called a teaser and just looked in silence for a moment. Then she pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures.

  “Cassie! Jenna! Stand over there,” she commanded, pointing to a rocky ledge. We complied, and Brooklyn spent the next several minutes snapping goofy pictures of us.

  “Can we stop now?” Jenna finally asked, laughing at Brooklyn as she tried and failed for the third time to climb up a nearby tree, which she was certain would provide the ideal photography angle for both of us.

  Brooklyn started to reply but trailed off when we heard voices close by. Startled, I spun towards the noise and bumped into Jenna, knocking her sideways.

  “Ouch,” Jenna exclaimed, rubbing her shoulder where she had collided with a tree. “Jeez, Cass, it’s okay! I know these guys!”

  Sure enough, I looked across the small clearing and saw two guys about our own age. They carried what looked to be rock climbing gear and both gave Jenna a friendly wave.

  “Jen!” one of them, a tall, lean blond, called out enthusiastically. In a moment they had crossed the clearing and dropped their packs on the ground.

  “Robby! Paul! These are my friends Cassie and Brooklyn,” Jenna introduced us. “These guys are in my European history class. They’re roommates, too.” I noticed that she had a flush creeping up her cheeks that had nothing to do with having just climbed a mountain. I shot Brooklyn a look and knew from her smirk that she had taken note of it too. This must have been the reason for the sudden enthusiasm for all things outdoors.

  Robby and Paul both gave us polite smiles, and then immediately began talking to Jenna about a class that the three of them shared. This went on for a surprising amount of time, with neither Jenna nor the boys seeming to realize that Brooklyn and I were still there.

  Still somewhat winded from the climb, I made my way over to a nearby rock that looked like a reasonably comfortable place to sit. Brooklyn followed, flopping down next to me.

  “Do you think Jenna knew they would be hiking today, or is this just a happy coincidence?” I wondered aloud, pulling off one of my sneakers and shaking out a surprising amount of dirt.

  “Oh, I think she definitely knew they would be out here today. Just last week she said she wanted to go to the city and do some shopping for her birthday. The only reason she would change her mind is to organize a “happy coincidence,” as you called it.”

  “Well, this is kinda boring. We need to move this conversation elsewhere. Like, somewhere with food,” I whined, feeling my stomach growl. The scone I had inhaled that morning clearly did not have staying power.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m just hot. Did you see that little pond we passed on the way up?” Brooklyn asked. “I’d love to go back to it, take my clothes off, and just dive right in! Maybe work on my tan a little bit.”

  “That sounds terrible,” I winced. “It’s October! The water would be freezing.”

  “Oh,” Brooklyn looked slightly surprised, as though the idea that swimming in October would be unpleasant had never occurred to her. “Right. But seriously, I do need to go get a spray tan or something. My summer color is fading. We should go together!”

  “For the nine hundredth time, no,” I said firmly. Brooklyn was for some reason under the impression that since I had black hair and brown eyes that were quite a contrast from my pale skin, I must desperately want to be tan. According to Brooklyn, the Snow White look was out, and in spite of my repeated refusals she tried to convince me to get a spray tan with her at least once a month.

  “Cassie, Cassie, Cassie,” Brooklyn shook her head sadly. “You can’t even imagine what a good tan could do for you. It makes you look taller, thinner, smarter…”

  “Taller and thinner I’ll buy, but I fail to see how being tan makes you look smart,” I sighed and laid back on the rock.

  Brooklyn carried on chattering about some sort of self tanning lotion she wanted to try, but I tuned her out. I was having fun with my friends, but at the same time I was thinking guiltily of all the things I still needed to get done that weekend. Reading for class, studying for midterms, organizing and paying my bills, and probably a million other things I was forgetting.

  Plus, I was seriously hungry. Low blood sugar made me cranky, and I really didn’t want to ruin the day with a bitchy mood.

  “Hey!” Jenna exclaimed brightly, snapping me out of my thoughts and Brooklyn out of her monologue about whole-body contouring. Jenna hurried over to where we were sitting, blue eyes sparkling.

  “Do you guys want to go get lunch with Robby and Paul?” she asked, her voice sounding breathless.

  “If the birthday girl commands it,” Brooklyn gave a little mock bow. “Seriously, though, Cass is starving and you know how grumpy she is when she’s hungry. Can we please get off this hill?”

  The five of us traipsed back down the mountain far quicker than Jenna, Brooklyn, and I probably would have on our own. I supposed having some true outdoorsy types in the pack made for a quicker pace. I could have done without the detailed recollection of every rock climbing trip Robby and Paul had ever been on, but Jenna seemed delighted so I tried to make the best of it.

  At any rate, they largely ignored Brooklyn and me, so we made our own conversation centered around plotting how best to rid Paul of his stupid man bun. We had just settled on a freak fan blade accident when we passed the large sign announcing our exit from the national park.

  Back at the small gravel parking area at the base of the mountain, Jenna made quick arrangements to follow Robby and Paul to a restaurant Paul bafflingly described as “gnarly.”

  “I really hope he doesn’t think surfer speak is something that makes him sound cool,” I groaned to Brooklyn as we climbed back into the car. Brooklyn rolled her eyes in agreement.

  We had taken my car, so I was left to try and keep up with Paul’s Jeep, which he insisted on driving at an absolutely insane speed.

  “Ow!” Brooklyn yelped as I drove a little too quickly over a bump in the road, sending all our heads bouncing dangerously close to the roof of the car.

  “Sorry,” I replied. “I’m doing my best. God, I hate driving sometimes. Especially when following someone is involved.”

  “How come you never ask me to drive?” Brooklyn asked. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Three reasons,” I replied, counting on my fingers without taking my eyes off the road. “The dog incident, the pole in the parking lot incident, and the semi truck incident. I don’t want a fourth reason to be the Cassie’s Car incident.”

  “Oh, come on! I’ve gotten way better since then! The semi truck thing was months ago!”

  “Actually,” Jenna interjected, “it was last month.”

  Brooklyn grumbled something about second chances, but ultimately let the subject go when a song she liked came on the radio. She sang along, and I was reminded of how pretty her voice really was, her karaoke performances notwithstanding.

  The rest of the ride back to civilization went by alternating between Brooklyn singing and us grilling Jenna about Paul and Robby. After a little wheedling, she confessed that while she liked them bo
th it was Paul she had a thing for. They were both in her British history class. Robby, she told us, hailed from Kentucky, while Paul was from Florida. Perhaps he was an actual surfer dude after all. I made a mental note to forgive him for any “gnarly” talk. If he and Jenna became a more serious thing, I’d probably have to hear it often. I might as well get used to it.

  I hoped, for Jenna’s sake, that Paul would turn out to be a nice guy looking for a long term relationship. The entire time I had known her Jenna had bounced from one guy to another, always seeming to go for guys who weren’t interested in anything serious. Given that Jenna was a complete sap with a thing for romantic comedies and trashy romance novels, this had led to more than a few heartbreaks.

  Ironically, I mused, Amber had no shortage of guys who I was certain would have gladly married her the next day if she would have agreed. Amber herself, though, preferred to keep things simple and uncomplicated. She rarely dated a guy for more than a few weeks.

  Brooklyn probably seemed to many like the type to date around and have multiple boyfriends at once, but she had actually been dating the same guy, a senior at Princeton, since high school. Jason sent her flowers every week, called her every night, and they took turns visiting on holidays and long weekends. It was almost sickening.

  And then there was me. Like Jenna, I wasn’t really into casual hookups. I had started dating a guy who lived on my hall freshman year and that had carried over into the start of sophomore year, but a summer apart had made it pretty clear we didn’t click in a long term kind of way. We had mutually agreed to end it that fall, and the past year since then had been dry and uninteresting on the guy front.

  I wasn’t exactly unhappy being single the way I knew Jenna was. I kept plenty busy between school and work. My friends provided more than enough social interaction. A part of me, though, felt a little bit of a twinge hearing Jenna wax poetically about Paul. It would be nice to feel that way about someone. Maybe I needed to get back into the dating scene, I mused. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.