Double Date (11 page)

D
evon doesn't want a ride home?” Cassidy asked Emma as they met in the locker bay after school. “I mean, uh, to your grandmother's house.”

“It's okay. Devon calls it home too,” Emma clarified. “And, no, she doesn't need a ride. She's with Amanda.”

“She and Amanda are getting to be pretty good friends, huh?”

“Apparently.” Emma sounded slightly aggravated.

“You don't like that they're friends?” Cassidy wondered if Emma was jealous. She and Devon used to be good friends, but that seemed to have deteriorated recently.

Emma slammed her locker shut. “I'm not sure.”

“You have a problem with Amanda?” Cassidy glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

“Maybe.”

The truth was, Cassidy wasn't too keen on the news that Amanda Norton was a member of the DG. It had felt rather sudden and slightly underhanded. Sure, they needed an even number of members, but shouldn't they have discussed it more?
“What are you thinking in regard to Amanda?” Cassidy asked Emma after they were outside and nearly to her car.

“I'm thinking that it was Amanda and Tristin who first showed Devon that MyPlace page on Felicia. Remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And Felicia said that Tristin was one of the girls who'd teased her.”

“Yeah?”

“Amanda and Tristin are really good friends. At least they used to be.”

“Uh-huh.” Cassidy unlocked her car. This wasn't really news. “Your point is what?”

“Well, I know it's not enough evidence to convict anyone, but it seems suspicious. Just a few minutes ago when I asked Devon if she'd found out anything—because remember how we asked her to do some sleuthing with Amanda and Tristin—she got all defensive.” Emma scowled as she slammed the door closed. “What's up with that?”

“What do you mean defensive? Who's she defending? Amanda? Tristin? Herself?”

“I'm not sure, but she got pretty irate. Like I had no business questioning any of them. She told me that just because Felicia claimed she hadn't put up that page didn't mean it was true.”

“So she still thinks Felicia is like that?” Cassidy started her car.

“Who knows what she thinks. She's being awfully protective of her new friends, though.”

Suddenly Cassidy remembered something she'd seen in the math department earlier. “Speaking of Tristin . . . have you noticed that she seems to be in hot pursuit of Marcus Zimmerman?”

“No. Why do you mention it?”

“Because I remember seeing Marcus literally tripping over himself with his eyes on Felicia.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean Felicia had caught Marcus's eye. Then today I saw Tristin blatantly flirting with the boy. Do you think there's any connection?”

Emma was pulling out her phone. “I'm texting Felicia now. Asking her about Marcus.”

“What are you asking?”

“If she thinks Marcus was into her.” Emma tapped away.

“It seems like a pretty wimpy theory,” Cassidy admitted.

“Well, at least you're trying.” Emma held up her phone to show she was done. “Unlike Devon.”

“Devon is probably trying to protect her new friendship with Amanda,” Cassidy said as she came to a stop sign. She turned to Emma. “To be honest, I'm surprised that Amanda was into being Devon's friend. What do you think that's about?”

Emma shrugged. “I have no idea. Hey, Felicia texted back. In all caps she said YES.”

“Yes to Marcus?”

“Uh-huh. I think so.” Emma was texting again. “How about if we stop by her house since we're so close anyway?”

“Okay.” Cassidy turned down the next street. “That way I can hear it too.”

“I'll tell her we're coming.”

Before long, they were back in Felicia's bedroom and she was telling them about how she and Marcus had started a friendship about a month ago. “He was helping me with math and being really nice about it. I guess I kinda hoped it was more than just friendship. I had wanted him to ask me out.” Felicia gave an embarrassed smile. “He was one of the main reasons I wanted to step up my game in the fashion arena. Although I obviously just made a mess of everything.” Her smile faded.

“Remember the time Marcus fell down in Algebra II?” Cassidy said suddenly. “Everyone laughed and he made a bow?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I do.”

“Well, I saw the whole thing. Marcus had been looking at you and didn't even see the chair right in front of him,” Cassidy explained. “The boy seemed somewhat smitten.”

Felicia giggled then grew serious. “Not that it does me any good now. I went back to public school today. I hate it.”

“I'm curious,” Emma said. “On what grounds did you get expelled from Northwood?”

“Because of MyPlace,” Felicia said with a “duh” expression. “Remember?”

“I know. But what do they have as evidence?”

Felicia frowned. “Good question.”

“It doesn't seem fair that they can keep you out of school without a shred of evidence—especially considering it's something you didn't even do,” Emma declared.

“Yeah,” Cassidy agreed. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty? How can they prove you guilty of anything—well, besides bad taste in clothes—without any evidence?”

“I wish you guys were my lawyers,” Felicia said wistfully.

“Maybe we'll do that,” Cassidy told her.

“Huh?” Emma looked curiously at Cassidy.

“What if we tried to present her case to Mr. Worthington and Mrs. Dorman?”

“What would we say?” Emma asked.

“We'd have to prepare some kind of statement. It would be nice if we had some kind of evidence.” Cassidy held a finger in the air. “So back to Tristin. You mentioned her as one of the girls who has harassed—or bullied —you, right?”

Felicia nodded somberly. “Yeah. It took me by surprise too. Kinda out of nowhere. The other girls who were mean—well, they were just flat-out mean, and to be honest, it wasn't that big of a deal. They don't seem like they're very happy with themselves or life in general, you know? It was easier to forgive them. But when Tristin jumped in . . . well, that felt more personal. You know?”

Cassidy remembered the other two girls Felicia had named. Both of them were kind of outsiders and not well liked by anyone. Not that it meant they should be bullies, but Felicia—since it was her first year at Northwood—had probably seemed an easy target.

“What did Tristin do exactly?” Emma asked.

“She went onto my MyPlace page—my real one—and said some mean, trashy stuff about me.”

“Really?” Cassidy asked eagerly. “Do you still have it?”

“They took that page down too,” Felicia explained. “They didn't even ask me. Just took it down.”

“And you never downloaded it?”

Felicia got a thoughtful look. “Actually, I think I did, but I'm not sure if I still have it. I hadn't actually given it much thought. I mean, it wasn't like she'd done anything illegal or—”

“Can you pull it up?” Cassidy asked.

Felicia already had the laptop and was punching the keys. “I'll see.”

“When did Tristin do this?” Emma asked her. “Can you remember?”

“It started about a month or so ago.” Felicia continued keyboarding.

“Did you know that Tristin likes Marcus?” Cassidy asked as she and Emma stood looking over Felicia's shoulder.

Felicia turned around to stare at them. “No way.”

“It's true,” Cassidy assured her. “I saw Tristin flirting with him today. I could tell she was pretty serious about it too. I'm guessing she's trying to warm him up to take her to the Christmas ball.”

“I have Sienna in art,” Emma said, “and she said that she and Tristin are making a sleigh together. So they're obviously planning to go to the dance as a double date.”

“A sleigh? Double date? Huh?” Felicia was confused.

“TMI.” Cassidy pointed at the laptop. “Just see if you can
find the MyPlace page, Felicia. That could be your ticket back into Northwood.”

“Really?” She turned back around and continued looking. “Aha!” she cried out. “Here it is.”

Emma and Cassidy leaned over to see better. “Do not delete this under any circumstances,” Cassidy told her. “In fact, why don't you email it to me and Emma right now?”

Felicia's fingers flew over the keys. “There. Done.” She turned looking hopefully up at them. “What next?”

“Good question.” Cassidy sat down on Felicia's bed, pulling out her iPad to be sure the email had gone through.

“We need to do like you said,” Emma told her. “To present Felicia's case to Worthington and Dorman.”

“And we need to do it in such a way that they take us seriously,” Cassidy added.

“You guys would really do that for me?” Felicia looked close to tears.

“You bet we would,” Cassidy assured her as she skimmed over the MyPlace page. “These comments from Tristin are proof of bullying. If she was after Marcus and jealous of his interest in you, well, it's not looking good for that girl.”

“Hey, I just remembered something Isaac told me today,” Emma said suddenly. “If we found the computer that originated the MyPlace page, we might find evidence.”

“If we could figure out what Tristin used . . .” Cassidy was thinking out loud. “Whether it was an iPhone or iPad or laptop or whatever . . . and if we could get our hands on it . . . we might be able to prove she did it.”

“Do you really think you can?” Felicia asked eagerly. “If it's possible, can you please do it soon? The sooner I get back to school, the better it will be for my grades and my classes.”

“We'll do our best,” Emma promised as they told Felicia good-bye.

“And we'll be in touch,” Cassidy told her.

“Interesting development,” Emma said as they got back into Cassidy's car.

“Yeah. I think we've found our culprit.”

“The question is, can we get the evidence to take her down?”

“I've never liked Tristin that much,” Cassidy admitted, “but I never would've guessed she'd do something so despicable. Did you read the nasty, mean stuff Tristin wrote on Felicia's page?”

“And all over a boy? What's next? Murder?”

Cassidy shuddered. “Creepy.”

“I hope we didn't get Felicia's hopes up too much. It seems like a somewhat daunting challenge, now that I think about it. Seriously, Cass, how are we going to pry an iPhone or iPad or laptop out of Tristin's grubby little hands?”

“Maybe Devon can help,” Cassidy suggested. “If we could get the whole DG on this, we might actually have—”

“The
whole
DG?” Emma let out a groan. “Amanda too?”

“I guess this won't be easy.”

“Time to change the subject,” Emma said as Cassidy pulled up to her house. “We need to figure out when we can get together to work on our sleigh. I want it to look really, really great. Not just for the assembly but for the contest too. I'd start working on it today if I had the right kind of box.”

“What kind of box do we need?” Cassidy asked.

Emma held her hands far apart. “A great big one.”

“Hey, my dad got a new printer delivered to our house over the weekend. It came in a really big box. If it's still in the garage, I'll scavenge it if you want.”

“Great. Can you bring it over here?”

“Sure. But I have homework so I can't help with it much.”

“That's okay. For starters I'll just try to shape it into something. Maybe give it a first coat of paint. Then I'll sketch out some design options and get your input. By then maybe you'll be ready to help.”

“Cool.”

“Does this mean we're partnering up for the double date for the Christmas ball?” Emma asked hopefully.

“I'd like that,” Cassidy admitted. “I was going to ask you, but it's not like either of us have dates yet.”

“We will,” Emma said with confidence.

Cassidy laughed. “We've come a long way since the beginning of school.”

“With a long way still to go.”

Cassidy promised to return shortly with the box. As she continued on home, she realized that because she and Emma had partnered up, Bryn and Abby would be forced to do the same. Not that they should mind. After all, they'd been best friends for ages. Just the same, she would be sure to send them a text with this news.

Cassidy was relieved to be doing this with Emma. Abby would've been her second choice, and that probably would've gone okay. She wasn't too sure if she and Bryn would've gotten along that well though. Bryn could be pretty bossy at times. Cassidy's biggest fear had been getting stuck with Devon. Although she'd been trying to be a better friend to Devon lately, the idea of being partnered with her on a project like this—and for a double date—well, that had been a little scary.

D
evon was truly grateful for the way that Grandma Betty had invited her into her home. Devon had been trying her best to comply with Grandma Betty's rules and to be helpful and sociable and responsible. But sometimes she felt a bit overwhelmed by the old woman's expectations. To always get home in time—not only to eat dinner but to help prepare it—and to obey an early curfew as well as to keep up with the assigned chores that Grandma Betty kept posted on the fridge . . . It sometimes felt a little like boot camp. But Devon told herself it was worth it. Plus she believed that Grandma Betty really cared about her. It felt like she had Devon's best interests at heart. That was worth a lot.

Besides, Devon reminded herself as she peeled carrots, it was better than living in a small, run-down house where slimy Rodney could show up whenever he pleased and stay as long as he liked. Out of curiosity, Devon had ridden her bike past her old house on Sunday and there, sure enough, was that big, ugly red truck parked in the driveway like he owned the place.
Well, fine—he could have it if he wanted. She pretended like she didn't care . . . but it still hurt.

“I'd like to meet your new friend,” Grandma Betty said as she poured chicken broth into a pot. “What's Amanda's last name?”

“Norton.”

“Norton?” Grandma Betty got a thoughtful look. “Is that the same Nortons who own the dry-cleaning business?”

“No. Amanda's dad is an attorney for the city, and her mom is an interior designer.” Devon could feel the pride in her voice as she shared this information. She'd never had a good friend with parents this impressive before. It felt good.

“They sound very interesting.” Grandma Betty slid the chopped potatoes into the pot. “Have you met her parents yet?”

“Not yet, but I've been in their house.” Devon described how beautiful the Norton home had been. She'd wanted to tell someone about this before, but none of her friends seemed interested. And she hadn't wanted to make Grandma Betty feel bad—as if Devon thought that Amanda's house was so much grander than here. Even if it was.

“Her parents must be very wealthy.”

“Oh yeah. They are.”

“Do you think that being wealthy is very important?”

“It beats being poor.”

Grandma Betty chuckled. “Yes, I can understand that.”

“I plan on being rich someday.”

“If you had to choose, which would you rather be—rich or happy?”

Devon dropped the last peeled carrot in the bowl. “Well, if I was rich, I think I would be happy.”

“I wonder if Amanda's parents are happy.” Grandma Betty started to chop the carrots.

“Why wouldn't they be? They have everything.”

“Maybe, but I've noticed something over the years. Some people—not all of course, but I've known people who have a lot of material wealth—also have a lot of stress and obligations attached to their holdings. Sometimes I've wondered, when it's all weighed out, is it worth it? Especially when they don't seem particularly happy most of the time.”

Devon considered this. “Yeah, well, I'm sure that some rich people aren't happy. But I doubt they'd be any happier if they were poor.”

“Good point.” Grandma Betty grinned at her. “You're a smart girl, Devon. I'm sure you'll figure these things out.”

After dinner, Devon was surprised to hear the doorbell ring. Grandma Betty didn't usually get callers at night. Thinking it was one of Betty's friends, Devon continued working on her homework. She'd gotten a little behind in some classes and was trying to make up for it now.

“Hello?” Emma poked her head into the room. “You busy?”

Devon looked up. “Just doing homework. What's up?”

“Mom sent me over to deliver some stuff to Grandma—things for a mission project at her church. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Devon set down her book.

“Well, I know you're friends with Amanda now, and that's cool. But this thing with Felicia . . . well, it's getting kinda complicated. She really is innocent and she's been the victim of bullying and—”

“Are you accusing Amanda?”

“No. Not Amanda.” Emma narrowed her eyes. “Can I trust you?”

“Of course. We've been friends, like, forever. I'm living with your grandmother. Why would you not be able to trust me?”
Devon stood up and folded her arms in front. “I can't believe you'd even ask me that.”

“Okay.” Emma just nodded.

“So what is it?” Devon was growing more curious.

“It has to do with Tristin.”

“Tristin?” This was even more interesting. Especially since Tristin considered herself to be Amanda's best friend. Something that Devon wouldn't mind seeing changed.

“I know you're friends with her too.”

“Not as much as you'd think.”

“How so?”

Devon considered asking Emma how much she could trust her, but knew that would sound hypocritical. “For starters, Tristin doesn't really like me all that much. I know she doesn't appreciate that I'm friends with Amanda. Or that Amanda and I are doubling up for the Christmas ball.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

“So what's up with Tristin? Did she bully Felicia?”

“Yes, and we have real proof.” Emma told her about the saved MyPlace page. “It's not the same page that Tristin showed you, but it's got enough mean stuff on it to get Tristin into trouble at school.”

“Then why not go forward with it?”

“We will. But if we could just get our hands on that really nasty page—the one Tristin showed you, the one I'm sure she made. Well, that would just blow this whole thing wide open.” Emma told Devon about how Tristin was after the same guy who had been befriending Felicia. “Coincidence?”

“Interesting . . .”

“Remember how we used to play detectives when were little?” Emma asked.

Devon laughed. “Yeah. I'd always make you play Watson to my Sherlock.”

“Right. Well, I wondered if you could get your hands on Tristin's iPhone or iPad or whatever she's using. And do a quick check for that page and if you find it, send it out so we can download it.”

“Yeah, and while I'm at it I might discover the cure for cancer too.” Devon rolled her eyes. “Emma, do you think I can just nab Tristin's phone out of her purse and do all that?”

Emma leaned forward and looked intently at Devon. “I think that if anyone can do it, you can.”

“You're nuts.”

“You won't even try?”

Devon pressed her lips together. “I didn't say that.”

“So you will?” Emma looked hopeful.

“If I see a safe opportunity—which I seriously doubt will happen—I'll do what I can. Okay?”

Emma threw her arms around Devon, giving her a tight hug. “Thanks, Devon. I knew you'd want to help. You try to act so tough sometimes, but you've got a good heart. I knew it.”

Devon tried not to act too surprised. “Well, I won't promise you anything.”

“I know.” Emma jingled the car keys. “I better go. I promised to come right back. Mom doesn't usually let me drive at night.”

After Emma left, Devon wondered what she had promised—what she could be getting herself into. But she'd said if there was an opportunity . . . What were the chances of that?

The next day, Devon tried not to think too much about her promise to Emma. It wasn't that she wanted to let Emma down, but she just didn't think it was possible. Even in the locker room after conditioning, when she thought she might get a chance to sneak Tristin's phone out of her bag, it was impossible. But Devon liked a challenge. She decided to try another venue.

“I was on MyPlace last night.” She said this casually to Amanda, almost confidentially, although she knew Tristin was listening. “I got to thinking about creating a new page . . .” She lowered her voice. “Not about me, but about someone else.”

“Who?” Tristin asked with interest.

“No one you know,” Devon said dismissively, turning her attention back to Amanda. “Anyway, I know your dad's a lawyer and I wondered if what I wanted to do was legal or not.”

“What do you want to do?” Amanda stopped brushing her hair, peering curiously at Devon.

“There's this girl from my old school—a total witch. Anyway, I happened to see a nasty post on her page last night. She's so mean. I got to thinking, now that I'm not in the same school as her and no one would suspect me, it might be fun to create a MyPlace page on her. Something that would show her true colors to everyone she's been picking on. I wouldn't want to do anything that would get me into real trouble, though, you know?” Devon paused, glancing around as if she was truly worried. “I wouldn't want to cross any lines.”

“Then you should just leave the whole thing alone.” Amanda tossed her brush into her bag. “That's what my dad would tell you too, Devon. Don't even go there.”

“Okay.” Devon nodded eagerly. Mostly she wanted to remain agreeable to Amanda. “I definitely won't do it then.” As she buttoned her top, she tossed a quick glance at Tristin. Unless Devon was mistaken, Tristin was studying her closely.

“I don't know why anyone would take chances like that,” Amanda said as she went over to the mirror to check her makeup.

“Bad idea. I get it,” Devon said. Normally, Devon would follow Amanda over there, touching up her own makeup beside her. Instead she decided to take her time, slowly folding her workout clothes, neatly placing them into the basket and fiddling with the zipper on her bag as if it wasn't working right.

“You can do it without getting caught,” Tristin said quietly as she shoved her workout clothes into her own basket.

“What?” Devon acted oblivious.

“Create a page.”

Devon wrinkled her nose as she reached for her bag. “Like Amanda said. Bad idea.”

Tristin shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Even if the girl is a witch . . .”

Devon acted like Tristin had struck a real chord there. “She really is. In fact, this girl's one of the reasons I came here. She was so horrid to me. And it sounds like she still is that way.”

“Then get her back.”

Devon glanced over to where Amanda was putting on mascara. “What about what Amanda said? Her dad's a lawyer. I don't want to get in trouble. I'm not even very good at managing my own MyPlace page. Really, I should just forget it. Stupid idea.”

“What're you two jabbering about?” Amanda called out cheerfully.

“Nothing.” Devon grabbed up her bag and went over to join Amanda. She felt like she had hooked Tristin and was slowly reeling her in. It felt good! But to make it work, she'd have to play it just right. She'd have to make Tristin trust her, let her think she was helping her. Her last class of the day was drama and Tristin was in it. That would be her big chance. Hopefully, Devon wouldn't have to lift a finger.

Sure enough, Tristin came straight to her as soon as Devon got to drama class in the auditorium. First Tristin made small talk since others were around to hear, but when it was just the two of them, Tristin lowered her voice. “Want me to help you?” she offered.

“Huh?” Again Devon played stupid.

“You know, to make a MyPlace page on that mean girl.”

“Oh, I don't know. After what Amanda said—”

“Amanda doesn't know
everything
.”

“Yeah, but I really don't want to get in trouble.”

“You won't.” Tristin shrugged. “But fine . . . if you're scared.”

Devon stood up straighter. “You don't know me very well. I don't scare easily.”

After they took their turns onstage, they arranged to meet together in the back of the auditorium where they would pretend to practice their lines. Instead, Tristin explained to Devon how it was done. She took her step by step, explaining how to use Photoshop and everything. For some reason she seemed very eager to have Devon do this. Perhaps it was a setup.