Furious Jones and the Assassin’s Secret (17 page)

I was about to comment when my phone rang. I fished it out of my pocket. My hand was shaking from the adrenaline. I switched the phone to my right hand so Mike wouldn't notice.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Emma said. “Are you okay? You sound kind of funny.”

“Yeah,” I lied. “I'm good. What's up with you?”

“I'm just on break and got your message. Why did you get a new phone?” Emma asked.

“Well,” I said honestly, “the Spanish teacher here in Galena took mine.”

Mike looked over at me and yelled out, “Nonnemacher!”

“Who was that?”

“That's Mike,” I said.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked.

“I'm fine,” I replied. “I'll call you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Please take care of yourself.”

I agreed I would and hung up as Mike sped up the bluff in his crappy Honda.

“Hey, do you want a ride to school tomorrow? After what you did to Duane, I'm not sure you should be walking around town alone.”

I accepted the ride, but it wasn't out of fear. Experience told me Duane was going to be in way too much pain to go to school tomorrow. Or any day this week.

I
laid on my futon
thinking about Bailey, wondering if she could be the witness protection girl I was looking for. I circled and starred her name on my list of dark-haired, green-eyed girls. I needed to get close to Bailey. But first, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

My head was pounding when I woke up. I half expected to see a massive bruise across my forehead from where I'd smacked Duane, but it actually didn't look too bad. A little red and a little swollen, but I was sure Duane was looking in the mirror and seeing much worse.

I put on my last clean T-shirt and brushed my teeth. There was another copy of the
Galena Gazette
under my door. The front page had a large photo of someone I
recognized immediately. It was a photo of Attorney General Como with a caption under it that read: NEXT PRESIDENT?

I threw the newspaper on the floor next to the futon and headed downstairs. It was 7:35 and Mike wasn't here yet. It was cold this morning. I could kiss my billiards winnings good-bye if I had to buy a jacket. I could kiss
food
good-bye if I had to buy a jacket.

A car pulled up a few minutes later. The license plate read
SAME2U
. It was Trish.

“Hey, where's Mike?” I asked as I climbed into the car.

“Well, it's nice to see you, too.”

“Hey, Trish,” I said. “Sorry, I was just expecting your brother.”

“The putz is just running late, as usual. I told him there was no sense in making you late too.” Trish peeled away from the curb.

“Thanks,” I said.

“It was cool, what you did for Mike. Standing up to Duane,” Trish said.

“I just hope they don't take it out on Mike later.”

“What about you? Aren't you worried about what they will do to you?” Trish asked.

“No. Not really. I've met a lot of guys like Duane. They usually stay away once you lay down the ground rules,” I said.

“I wouldn't have pegged you for such a tough guy,” Trish said as she sped down Main Street.

I braced myself against her dashboard.
“Whoever taught you and your brother to drive should be arrested.”

“It's the Chicago way, baby.”

Trish kept her foot on the gas and the engine continued to roar. She must have been going twenty miles over the speed limit as she rounded the corner just outside of town.

“Watch it!” I yelled.

She slammed on her brakes when she saw the sea of flashing lights. It looked like the entire Galena police force had pulled over six or seven semi trucks. One of the officers stepped out into the highway and motioned for Trish to come to a complete stop.

“What are you thinking, Trish?” he yelled as he walked around to the driver's-side door. “You could've killed someone going that fast. You could have killed me,” the officer said.

“Sorry, Sheriff,” Trish said. “It won't happen again.”

“It better not.”

“What's going on here?”

“Oh, some trucks left the Happy Puppy Dog Food Company carrying some bad freight.” The sheriff rubbed his eyes and said, “Slow down, ya hear?” And he walked away.

“All these cops for bad freight?” I asked.

“Gotta be drugs,” Trish said as she stepped on the gas. “Or someone hijacked a truck full of stuff that didn't belong to them.”

“Is that what they did back in
Chicago?” I asked. “Is that the Chicago way?”

“You know it!”

N
ot only was I now
late for school, but I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I had blindly followed Mike around the previous day and hadn't paid attention to classroom numbers. I hadn't even paid attention to what floor we had been on for each class.

Trish went off to her class, and I sat by Mike's locker hoping he would show up before a teacher started questioning me. Five minutes later, Mike came running down the hall.

“Dude, I'm so sorry. Trish picked you up, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I just wasn't sure where I was supposed to be.”

Mike looked at his watch. “There's only, like, five minutes of Spanish left. Nonnemacher is going to kill us.”

I had no desire to see Nonnemacher again. “Why don't we just skip Spanish and head to the next class?”

“Okay,” Mike agreed. “Probably best. He really hates it when you come in late. If we walked in now, I think his head would explode.”

Mike threw his jacket into his locker, grabbed a few books, and slammed the door shut.

“What's after Spanish?” I asked.

“Nutrition,” Mike said.

Nutrition. Perfect. Mike's class with Bailey.

“Are you worried about Duane?” Mike asked.

“No,” I said honestly. I figured there was a good chance Duane would be out the whole week. A busted nose might not be life-threatening, but it hurt like crazy. And your face looks god-awful for weeks.

“I wonder if we should eat outside today,” Mike said. “I mean, there's no reason to chum the waters by sitting near the football table. Maybe we could even run over to McDonald's for lunch.”

“Trust me, I'll be fine. Duane doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would want his buddies standing up for him. He'll want to take revenge himself. If he does anything at all. I told you, these guys usually go away quietly.”

“I've never seen Duane do anything quietly,” Mike said.

I wanted to change the subject. “So tell me about Bailey.”

“Bailey? What's to tell? She's hot, smart, and part of Amanda's crew.”

“Is she a cheerleader too?” I asked.

“They are all cheerleaders. She and Amanda live on the same block out in The Territories. She just moved a little while ago.”

“Is she friends with Duane?”

“I don't know. I've seen her with a couple of the players. Like I said, just stay away, Fin. Don't chum the waters.”

I said nothing and we walked into the classroom as the first bell rang.

Mr. Metzel was sitting behind his desk.

“Ah, Mr. Marius and—it's Jennings, right? Mr. Jennings?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“How are you gentleman doing today?” Metzel asked.

“Good,” Mike said. I didn't say anything, I just took a seat in the back row. Bailey was one of the last to come in. She sat in front of Mike.

“Good. Well, yesterday we were talking about cholesterol. Who can tell me about cholesterol?” Metzel asked. No one said a word. I stared down at my notebook.

“Is cholesterol good or bad?”

“Both?” someone said. “Right? Didn't you say it could be good and bad?”

“Correct, Robby. There are two kinds of cholesterol, right? One's good and one is bad. Does anyone remember which one is good?”

A girl in the front row raised her hand.

“Yes, Darcy.”

“Is it DHL?” she asked.

“Close,” Metzel said. “It's HDL. DHL is a delivery service. But that's good, Darcy. Has anyone ever been to a large city like Cedar Rapids or Des Moines and seen the yellow DHL delivery vans?”

Metzel paused and no one said a thing. I continued to stare at my notebook.

“The DHL vans are delivering goods, right? Just like HDL is delivering good cholesterol. Thank you, Darcy. That's a good way to remember HDL in case that appears on a test someday. Hint. Hint.”

Metzel went on and on about HDL, LDL, triglycerides, and who knows what else for the next forty minutes. I might as well have been in Nonnemacher's Spanish class. I had no idea what he was talking about. I was about to nod off when Metzel began counting the number of students in the class. That meant some sort of group project. Maybe I'd catch a break and end up with Bailey.

He went up and down the rows, assigning people numbers between one and nine. Bailey was a six. I was a seven. But Mike was a six.

“Switch with me, Mike,” I said.

“What? Why?”

“Please.”

“Fine. What number are you?”

“I'm a seven,” I said.

Metzel addressed the class and told the various groups to meet in different parts of the room. The sixes were meeting at the front of the room. I walked to the front and sat next to Bailey. There was one other girl in our group.

“Okay, class. Here is the assignment. Each group will prepare a heart-friendly good cholesterol dish to share with the entire class on Thursday. You need to write up the recipe and describe why you believe the dish to be heart-friendly, okay? Pick one person to speak for the group on Thursday.”

The class let out a collective moan.

“Please take the last few minutes of class to discuss with your teammates.”

I turned toward Bailey and the other girl.

“Hey, my name's Fur—” Whoa, I almost said Furious. “Finbar,” I said quickly.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Bailey said. “Everyone knows who you are.”

“How is that? I just started yesterday.” This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Quite a first day,” Bailey said. “Breaking Duane's nose and all.”

“You were there last night, weren't you?” I pretended not to remember her. Or her swimsuit. “You know, I didn't mean to break it. I just wanted him to back off.”

Bailey said. “It sure looked like you tried to break it. You got blood on my new swimsuit.”

“I really didn't try. But I didn't not try either. I get the feeling subtlety might not have worked with Duane.”

“Well, you're probably right about that,” Bailey agreed.

“I'll say,” the other girl added.

“I didn't catch your names,” I said.

“I'm Susan.” She held out her hand.

“I'm Bailey.”

“Well, Susan and Bailey, what are we going to cook for Thursday?”

T
he bell rang before we
could talk about our heart-friendly recipe options. I tried to follow Bailey down the hall, but Mike was heading in the opposite direction.

“I wouldn't have switched,” Mike said, “if I'd known what you were up to. That's not cool, dude. Not cool at all.”

“What?”

“Why Bailey? Duane will kill you if he sees you with Bailey.”

“Look at her,” I said. We both looked down the hall and watched Bailey walk away. “Why not Bailey? Besides, you already said Duane was going to kill me. I might not have your computer and math skills, Mike, but I know he can't possibly kill me twice.”

“You don't even know her, dude,” Mike said.

“I don't know anyone here.”

“I'm begging you, Fin, just lay low. You don't know these guys. You just got here, man; I'd hate to see you die too soon,” Mike said. “I mean, you're kind of like my personal bodyguard after last night.” Mike punched me on the arm.

“Okay. Okay.”

The rest of the morning was uneventful. I sat and listened to teachers I knew I'd never see again after Thursday. I hated school when I actually had to be there. It was even worse when I didn't.

Mike's friends Ben and Scott came running up as soon as we walked into the lunchroom.

“Dude! Is it true?” Scott was jumping up and down.

I didn't have to ask what he was talking about, but I did. “Is what true?”

“Did you really bust Duane's nose?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“Whoa!”

The entire lunchroom seemed to be staring in our, or my, direction. So much for laying low.

“Aren't you a little worried?” Ben asked. “Don't get me wrong, you're a tall guy and clearly you can handle yourself, but Duane—he's a monster.”

“Why does everyone insist on reminding me how big and mean Duane is?” I snapped. “I know how big he is.”

“Cool,” Ben said. “I'm sorry.”

“It's just—let's just talk about something else, okay?”

No one said a word as we went through the food line. I ordered a cheeseburger with tater tots and chocolate pudding. Why mess with a good thing?

We were walking toward the table we had sat at the day before when I noticed Bailey sitting with Amanda.

“I'll be right back,” I told Mike as I headed toward Bailey. I could feel the eyes of the entire football team, minus Duane, home in on me as I crossed the lunchroom. I could see their thick necks all turning in unison as I stood next to Bailey.

“I'm thinking we should get the recipe for these cheeseburgers. You know, for our project. These things are amazing.”

“Hey, Finbar,” Bailey said, looking surprised to see me.

“Can I sit down?” I asked.

Maybe it was my apparent lack of fear, but she was now staring at me, speechless.