Chapter 18. Lorena #2
“Will,” says Tiffany, annoyingly shortening his name. “You must’ve gone there on Wednesday when you transferred here, right?”
The vampire nods in assent, but I get the feeling he’s feigning. Mainly because he takes a noticeably large inhale. He must be trying to pick up the director’s scent.
“I can sneak into her office while the rest of you distract the staff,” William offers.
“We’re all going into her office,” says Trevor.
“We can’t all storm in without being noticed,” Zach points out.
“But you need to be there to get footage for our story,” Tiffany says to him.
“I can be the distraction,” says Salma, looking at me. “Lorena and I will do it together.”
I know she’s trying to protect me, because for Ma’s sake I can’t risk getting caught breaking into the director’s office. But it would be an even worse idea to let William go without me.
“I’m going into her office,” I say.
Salma looks at William and back to me. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she says, misreading the situation as me doing this to get a boy’s approval.
“Yeah, listen to Salma,” chimes in Tiffany. “I mean, just imagine what Mommy—”
“I told you if you kept this shit up you’d have to find another room,” snaps Salma, glowering at our roommate.
We all go quiet, and Tiffany stares at Salma in stunned silence.
“Shhh,” says William, even though no one is making a noise. “Someone is coming.”
A moment later, the main office door opens, and I drop my gaze to the floor, pretending I’m waiting for the phone with the others.
“?Feliz sábado!” says Mr. Torres as he strolls past. “Any of you interested in joining chess club? Meeting starts now in the dining hall!”
“No, thanks,” says Tiffany.
“I think it’s only Coach and Minaro left in there,” murmurs Trevor once our Spanish teacher is gone.
“There could be others out of view,” says Zach.
“There are not,” says William, with a bit too much certainty.
“I could go inside and ask to speak with Minaro in private,” offers Salma.
“She’d just take you into her office,” says Tiffany, her voice low and sullen. From the way she’s crossing her arms and not making eye contact, it’s clear she’s hurt.
“You could go far from here, like run right now to the library and pretend to be hurt,” Trevor says to Salma. Then he looks at Tiffany. “And you can go into the office and ask Coach and Minaro for help.”
This seems like the kind of plan Sal would be into, but instead she looks concerned. Her hesitation is proof enough that Tiffany is right.
Something is wrong.
“I can pretend to be hurt,” offers Tiffany, and I get the sense she’s trying to protect Salma—and wants to make amends.
“Why?” asks Salma. “You don’t think I can do it?” It occurs to me that Sal might have heard some of our conversation this morning.
“I’m a better actress,” says Tiffany, and Salma doesn’t argue there.
“The rest of us should hide,” says Trevor. He opens the door nearest to us, peeks inside, then waves for us to follow.
We enter a small storage room with cleaning products and extra supplies like paper towels and toilet paper. Once we’re hidden, Salma dashes to the main office, and I hear one of the doors swinging open.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Salma declares dramatically, her voice carrying down the hall. “Tiffany fe—got hurt! Can you come with me?”
“Lead the way,” I hear Coach’s booming voice say, his footsteps bounding across the floor.
“Are you coming?” I hear Salma asking, presumably to the director, who must be hesitating.
I don’t hear any response, and I hold my breath to listen deeper. Then at last I hear three distinct sets of footsteps marching past our door.
“Come on,” says Trevor, and we all spill out of the room and hurry to the main office. “Lead the way,” he tells William, and it sounds less like a request and more like a command.
The vampire leaps over the low door at the end of the counter. Trevor jumps it, too, but Zach reaches across and unlatches the lock from the other side. Then he holds it open for me.
We follow William to the last office, which features a burnt-gold plaque engraved with the name DIRECTOR MAXINE S. MINARO.
William opens it, and I wonder whether it was locked. I subtly survey the handle as I walk through the doorway, but I don’t spy any signs of damage.
Her office is a spotless white that practically sparkles.
There isn’t a single file, writing instrument, or piece of paper on her marble desk, and her shelves are filled with crystal and stone trinkets and accent pieces instead of books.
There’s also a desk chair, sofa, and armchair—all remarkably white and stainless.
A strange choice on the director’s part, as students aren’t the cleanest of people.
Zach raises his camera. “At least I can take pictures here,” he says, reviewing the photo in the camera’s display.
Trevor opens the desk drawers but finds only writing supplies. The sole piece of furniture where the letter could be is a white metal storage cabinet with twin vertical doors. Trevor tries one of the handles.
“Locked,” he says in disappointment.
“Move aside,” says William.
“What are you, Superman?” asks Trevor without budging. “You going to break it open?”
“Maybe I am,” says the vampire, standing chest to chest with Trevor. William is only a couple of inches taller.
“Even if you were,” says Trevor in a deprecating tone, “we’d be leaving evidence, and then Minaro would know something was taken. Which is not what we want, given that our friends are out there distracting her, making all of us suspects.”
William doesn’t have anything to say to that, but for my part I’m impressed. This is clearly not Trevor’s first offense.
“Lucky for us, I’m an expert lock-picker,” Trevor goes on, and I’m starting to see why his parents sent him here to be reformed.
That’s really working out for them.
He fishes out a paper clip from the desk drawer, untwists it, and inserts one end into the lock. Then he starts clicking around.
“Got it.”
Inside the cabinet, we find a series of trays with paperwork. We divide up the forms among us and go through everything, but it’s just official school business. No sign of an ancient letter.
William is the only one who doesn’t help. While the rest of us focus on the paperwork, he admires a white box on a shelf, filled with ivory pebbles. Something blurs in the edges of my vision, like a movement so fast that I’m not sure I saw it, then William ducks to inspect a crystal vase.
“Nothing,” says Trevor in disappointment. “Thanks a lot for your help,” he adds to William.
“You are welcome.”
We slip out of Minaro’s office quickly, and apparently right on time.
“I thought she was really hurt!” Salma is saying as the door to the main office swings open.
“I’m sorry,” says Tiffany. “It was just a joke, I didn’t know she was going to tell you guys!”
Sounds like Tiffany’s acting sucked, and they had to improvise a plan B—the practical joke.
“There you are!” I say in relief as we enter the main office area, right as Director Minaro is opening the small door at the end of the counter. “We were looking for Salma and Tiffany in the nurse’s office,” I explain. “We thought Tiffany was hurt.”
“No, she was in the library, wasting my time,” huffs Director Minaro, moving aside so that we can exit. “Find another way to occupy yourselves. If you do not have enough reading and homework to do, I will happily fix that.”
“Sorry,” says Tiffany again.
As we file out of the office, Trevor leans toward me and says, “You should’ve pretended to get hurt—that was some good acting.”
I think he means it as a compliment, but it makes me feel a little sick.
I have no idea who I am right now. And for the first time, Salma can’t help me figure myself out.