Page 22 of A Scandal in Homeroom
“For one, it’s none of Edward’s business. For another, Sinjun and I aren’t athing. He just asked. Of course I said no.”
“Why?” I asked.
“What do you mean why?”
“Why did you say no? Why not go with him?” Sinjun was nice. Most people in our class liked him. He was probably one of the few kids in school who lived somewhere between the Snobs and the Have-nots. He was a total do-gooder like Janie.
Janie took a bite of her peanut butter sandwich first, chewing slowly, then swallowed carefully.
“Because I didn’t want to. To either see the show or to go with him. Sorry, Beth, I’m sure you and Fitz will be amazing, but the idea of watching rich people dress up in clothes I’ll never be able to afford seems somewhat self-masochistic.”
“No worries. Heath is doing the a/v thing, so if there are any highlights, I’ll be sure to let you know. Especially if someone drops pig’s blood on my head.”
I knew she was worried about what the Snobs might pull, but I wasn’t. Fitz had told people to back off, and he wasn’t someone you wanted as an enemy. Not without paying for it. I’m pretty sure it’s why Heath had targeted him as a friend all those years ago.
Now was probably a good time to tell them I was going with Locke. I also usually eschewed the Fall Fashion Show for the same reasons Janie laid out. I didn’t want to see what I couldn’t have. Unlike her, though, I believed that for me, it was just a matter of time.
All it took to have fancy clothes was money. That was it. No invitation needed, no special permission. Just cash.
Janie didn’t care about money like I did. She was content in her poverty because she believed her activism gave her power.
I thought she was naïve, but I would never say that to her. I would never diminish her like that.
So yeah, I should probably tell my two best friends I was going to the fashion show for the first time. With Locke.
Except I didn’t.
* * *
Later that Night
Locke
I wasin my bedroom reading when the door opened with a bang. I didn’t startle as I’d heard my brother’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Yes?” I said, my eyes not leaving the page.
“You didn’t solve the puzzle,” he charged. “You never don’t solve the puzzle.”
This time I did look up at him and blinked. “What puzzle?”
His eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped. “You didn’t even see there was a puzzle to solve. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing is the matter with me,” I said, defensively.
Leaving clues around the house for me to find, so, ultimately, I could put them together to solve a puzzle, usually identifying a place or some reference to an historical event, was Croft’s idea of fun. I did it to entertain him and test myself. There was a white board on the fridge where I would write my answers just for this purpose.
Today it was blank, as I’d written nothing on it.
This morning I’d had other puzzles on my mind.
“It was there, clear as day, for you to find.”
“Obviously not, because I didn’t see it.”
He sat on the chair situated across from my bed and folded his arms over his broad chest. “Talk.”
“About what?”
