much a conspiracy of things as it was separate events weaving themselves together into a net that snared me sure as an animal trap.
The next day was a bad one. For one, all that time I’d been spending obsessing over the note kept me from studying, so I failed a math test. Then at lunch Gerardo spent the whole time talking about Nikki, and how good things were between the two ofthem. Well, they say bad news comes in threes—and when I got home on that day, I found my dad sitting on the sofa, across from none other than bad news number three: Marshall Astor, Marisol’s boyfriend and accomplice in crime. My heart took a long, slow fall into my gut.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Cara, honey,” Dad said, standing up, “that’s no way to talk to a guest.”
“That’s no guest, that’s vermin. I’ll get the rat poison.”
Dad laughed nervously. “She’s got a biting sense of humor, doesn’t she? You two talk. I got some, um, business I have to take care of.” Dad was out of that house at light speed.
I looked around, hoping Momma and Vance were there. Anything to keep me from being alone with Marshall, but they were nowhere to be found.
“So what do you want?” I asked. His foot was no longer bandaged, though he did still walk with a little bit of a limp. “If you want me to testify against Leticia Radcliffe, forget it.”
“What? Oh. No, I never told nobody about that.” I saw his toes wiggle in the tip of his shoes. He grimaced, and that just made me smile. I didn’t usually enjoy other people’s pain, but for Marshall Astor, I’d make an exception.
“Ruined your football season, I’ll bet.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t play anyway. I was already on academic probation.”
I crossed my arms, making it clear I was done with the small talk. “So what do you want?”
“There’s no point in beating around the bush,” he said. “I’ll just say it straight out. I’m asking you to the homecoming dance.”
It caught me so off guard I just laughed out loud.
“I’m not making a joke,” he said. “I’m serious.”
“You think I’m gonna fall for that? What are you gonna do, wait till I get all dressed up and pour a bucket of blood on me? Sorry, I saw that movie.”
“Nah, that’s gross,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, but it’s not too gross to fill someone’s room with roadkill?”
“I had nothing to do with that!” he said. Then he hesitated. “Well, okay, I did help Marisol scoop up the roadkill, but I didn’t know what she was going to use it for.”
I just looked at him in disbelief.
“I didn’t!” he said. “I thought she had got it into her head that they needed a decent burial, or something. I didn’t know she was gonna do what she did! I didn’t find out until after.”
I wasn’t sure who was more of a fool—him for saying something like that, or me for actually believing him.
“So you’re telling me Marisol has nothing to do with you asking me to the dance?”
“No,” he said, “it’s not Marisol’s idea at all. In fact, she’s pretty mad about it.”
“Is that so?” Anything that made Marisol mad was fine by me—but I wasn’t foolish enough to think Marshall was doing this out of the kindness of his microscopic heart.
“If it’s not a Marisol scheme, then you must be doing it on a dare.”
He shook his head. “You’re so sure you’re completely undatable—well, maybe you’re not. Maybe there are some decent things about the way you look.”
“Name one.”
He panicked for a moment, looking me up and down, trying to find something. Finally, he said, “You…uh…you’ve got nice hands.”
Hah! Even if it were true, it wouldn’t have made me believe his intentions. “I see right through you!” I told him. “You’ve got some secret reason for wanting to take me, and I want to know what it is!”
Suddenly he got all mad. He picked up a pillow and he threw it down hard. “Why do you gotta ask? Can’t you
The next day was a bad one. For one, all that time I’d been spending obsessing over the note kept me from studying, so I failed a math test. Then at lunch Gerardo spent the whole time talking about Nikki, and how good things were between the two ofthem. Well, they say bad news comes in threes—and when I got home on that day, I found my dad sitting on the sofa, across from none other than bad news number three: Marshall Astor, Marisol’s boyfriend and accomplice in crime. My heart took a long, slow fall into my gut.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Cara, honey,” Dad said, standing up, “that’s no way to talk to a guest.”
“That’s no guest, that’s vermin. I’ll get the rat poison.”
Dad laughed nervously. “She’s got a biting sense of humor, doesn’t she? You two talk. I got some, um, business I have to take care of.” Dad was out of that house at light speed.
I looked around, hoping Momma and Vance were there. Anything to keep me from being alone with Marshall, but they were nowhere to be found.
“So what do you want?” I asked. His foot was no longer bandaged, though he did still walk with a little bit of a limp. “If you want me to testify against Leticia Radcliffe, forget it.”
“What? Oh. No, I never told nobody about that.” I saw his toes wiggle in the tip of his shoes. He grimaced, and that just made me smile. I didn’t usually enjoy other people’s pain, but for Marshall Astor, I’d make an exception.
“Ruined your football season, I’ll bet.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t play anyway. I was already on academic probation.”
I crossed my arms, making it clear I was done with the small talk. “So what do you want?”
“There’s no point in beating around the bush,” he said. “I’ll just say it straight out. I’m asking you to the homecoming dance.”
It caught me so off guard I just laughed out loud.
“I’m not making a joke,” he said. “I’m serious.”
“You think I’m gonna fall for that? What are you gonna do, wait till I get all dressed up and pour a bucket of blood on me? Sorry, I saw that movie.”
“Nah, that’s gross,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, but it’s not too gross to fill someone’s room with roadkill?”
“I had nothing to do with that!” he said. Then he hesitated. “Well, okay, I did help Marisol scoop up the roadkill, but I didn’t know what she was going to use it for.”
I just looked at him in disbelief.
“I didn’t!” he said. “I thought she had got it into her head that they needed a decent burial, or something. I didn’t know she was gonna do what she did! I didn’t find out until after.”
I wasn’t sure who was more of a fool—him for saying something like that, or me for actually believing him.
“So you’re telling me Marisol has nothing to do with you asking me to the dance?”
“No,” he said, “it’s not Marisol’s idea at all. In fact, she’s pretty mad about it.”
“Is that so?” Anything that made Marisol mad was fine by me—but I wasn’t foolish enough to think Marshall was doing this out of the kindness of his microscopic heart.
“If it’s not a Marisol scheme, then you must be doing it on a dare.”
He shook his head. “You’re so sure you’re completely undatable—well, maybe you’re not. Maybe there are some decent things about the way you look.”
“Name one.”
He panicked for a moment, looking me up and down, trying to find something. Finally, he said, “You…uh…you’ve got nice hands.”
Hah! Even if it were true, it wouldn’t have made me believe his intentions. “I see right through you!” I told him. “You’ve got some secret reason for wanting to take me, and I want to know what it is!”
Suddenly he got all mad. He picked up a pillow and he threw it down hard. “Why do you gotta ask? Can’t you
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