Izzie leaned over the seat and pushed open the passenger door. “Hurry, Tess,” she whispered, looking toward Garrett’s garage. She was right. Joel was completely compromising my mission.
“Can we reschedule?” I asked. “The people in the theater are giving me really dirty looks.”
He waited, and I wondered if he’d drive over to the theater to see if I were really there. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” And before I could respond, he hung up. Great. Just great.
I climbed into Izzie’s car and put my spy pack on the floor. “Well that was inconvenient,” I told her. “Joel called right in the middle of the assignment.”
“You answered?” She stared at me, her eyebrows pulled together. “I thought you said it was against the rules to answer your phone while on a mission.”
“Oh, it is. I just …” I just lived a double standard. I put my head back against the rest and put my palm across my forehead. “You’re right. Sorry, Iz. I guess I need to get my priorities straight.”
She turned to face me, looking tired. Drawn out. “I guess you do.”
Whoa. That was a bit unfair. I mean, it was one thing for me to criticize myself, but it was another for Izzie to do it. I blinked quickly and then pulled my seat belt across my chest, feeling self-conscious.
Izzie started the car, but as she backed out, the band from Garrett’s garage came walking out.
“Crab cakes,” Izzie said, stepping on the gas and squealing the tires as she rushed to get us out of sight. I looked over my shoulder as Garrett and his friends walked to their van, instruments in cases being pulled behind them.
But it was Stacy that I noticed. She was adjusting the buttons on her white blouse, casually standing with her best friend. Comfortable in their situation. Their lie.
But as Izzie and I turned the corner, she looked up. Her mouth opened in surprise as her eyes met mine, the color draining from her face.
She might have just realized that she was caught in the act.
SOS
CHEATER-INCIDENT REPORT
CASE: 068
CLIENT: Janet Springer
SUBJECT: Garrett Bash
FINDINGS: At approximately 6:45 p.m. on October 10, Mr. Bash was observed “practicing” with his bandmate Stacy in his garage. Unfortunately, neither was clothed. We are sad to inform you that Mr. Bash’s friendship with Ms. Sadera was really a clever ruse for an affair. Please be advised that she was the only one witnessed, but we do not discount his possible involvement with other “friends.”
In this notice, you’ll find a DVD of their indiscretion, along with the number of a reputable therapist. We are sorry that you were scammed by the “let’s just pretend to be best friends” routine. But we hope you can find peace in the truth.
SOS offers our deepest sympathies. We hope that we will not have to assist you again in the future, but please keep us in mind for referrals.
Keep smiling,
SOS : )
SOS
Text: 555-0101 * Exposing Cheaters for Over Three Years
Chapter 10
The next morning I couldn’t technically go into school (the whole suspension thing) so I staked out the parking lot, waiting for Janet. Now that our names were out, there wasn’t much use in sneaking the reports into a locker.
It was hard standing there on my crutches next to my car, getting stared down by every passing guy. Even the ones we hadn’t investigated seemed to hate us. When had the cheer skirt ever brought out this sort of animosity?
But my heart really started to pound when I saw Blaze Harmon get out of his SUV. His eyes immediately found mine and narrowed. I’d known Blaze since the eighth grade, and we’d never had any problems. In fact, we were sort of friends through Aiden. But now things were definitely different. So when he started walking over, I tightened my grip on my crutches.
“What are doing here, little spy?” he spit when he got close enough. His dark spiky hair looked extra sharp and dangerous. “Thought you were suspended.”
I tried to not look threatened. “Blaze, I’m not going to engage you in an argument, so maybe we can skip the part where you call me all sorts of awful names.”
He grinned. “And why would I want to do that, you bitch?”
Pinpricks covered over my skin, that feeling you get just before you cry. I could feel my face reddening, but I’d never cry in front of him. I was a much tougher Kitten then he realized. Instead, I turned my body toward him and tilted my head.
“You’re right, Blaze. We have been spying—for over three years. Do you really think in all that time, we haven’t dug up something, even just a little thing about you? Or Trishelle?”
His jaw hit the pavement. I could see his hamster wheel spinning as he tried to remember everything he’d ever done or any suspicion about his girlfriend he’d ever had. Before he was done processing, Janet’s blue Mini Cooper pulled into the parking lot.
I almost felt bad for lying, since I had nothing on Blaze. But he was trying to physically intimidate me, and although I was trained in the art of tae kwon do, I was no match for him.
With him temporarily distracted by his thought, I saw my chance to escape. I smoothed out my ponytail with my hand and crutched my way over to where Janet had parked. I shot one cautionary glance over my shoulder back at Blaze, but he was already walking toward school, scratching his head.
I realized limping toward Janet that I was nervous. I’d never given someone bad news in person before. It was definitely easier to do when hiding behind an alias.
“Hi, Janet,” I said with as much pep as possible when she climbed out her driver’s side door.
She turned to look at me, her blond hair falling in her eyes before she pushed it away and smiled. “Oh, Tessa. Hey.” She seemed awkward and glanced around the parking lot, maybe frightened that people would see her with me.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a sec.”
“Um …” She fidgeted and clicked the locks of her car. “Sure. Is this about the investigation? Don’t you do that secretly?”
She looked really uncomfortable, and it was obvious that she didn’t want to talk to me. It made me feel icky. Like I wasn’t worth her words.
I straightened my posture. “Yes, it’s about Garrett. We finished the investigation and have a report for you.” Careful not to tip over, I reached into my backpack that was hanging over my shoulder and pulled out the manila envelope. When I held it out to her, she stared at it as if it were infected. Her eyes began to water.