Private 12 - Vanished (5 page)

“Hi, Upton. It’s good to see you. But is there a reason you’re shirtless at noon?” I joked.

He laughed that carefree Upton-y laugh. “Do I offend?” he said, opening his arms wide.

I blushed even harder, remembering exactly what it felt like to be in those arms, leaning against that chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

Okay, Reed. Focus. This is not about that right now. This is about Noelle.

“Not at all,” I said. “But Upton, I’m actually calling because I need a favor. A huge, important favor.”

Upton’s expression grew serious. “What is it?”

“Is there any possible way you could go to Paris?” I asked, biting my lip again, this time out of extreme doubt. “Like, today?”

Upton laughed while I stayed deadly silent. “Wait. You’re serious.”

“There’s this kind of a scavenger hunt thing going on at school,” I said, making things up on the fly, “and the prize is … well, it’s something I really want. But there’s something I’m supposed to get from Paris,” I told him.

“What is it?” Upton asked.

“I have to get a note from Noelle’s grandmother excusing her from school for the next two weeks,” I said. “And I need it overnighted to me.”

There was no way he was ever going to buy this. The whole thing sounded so ridiculous, even to my own ears, that I half expected him to ask what drugs I was experimenting with.

“Why would
you
need to get
that
?” he asked. “Sounds more like something Noelle would have to get.”

“Well, we’re a team,” I told him, surprised at how easily the lies were rolling off my tongue. “The two of us.”

“Oh. Okay, then,” he said, lifting one shoulder. “Why not? I could go for some authentic croque monsieur. Plus, I worship
Lenora. She’s a total minx, that one.”

“You know Noelle’s grandmother?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course I do,” Upton said, clearly surprised. “Our families go way back, remember?”

“So you think she’d be okay with this?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” Upton said. “Woman’s got a latent wild streak that burns brighter than Noelle’s does. But Noelle could have told you all this. Is she even there?”

“Not right now,” I said, swallowing at a sudden tightness in my throat. “I came up with the idea to call you on my own.”

“Oh, okay. Well, tell her it’s done. And if she has any messages to relay to Grandma, have her text me.”

I swallowed again, my throat now filled with a heavy mix of gratitude, guilt, and fear. Noelle wasn’t going to be texting anyone any time soon. She might never see her grandmother again. That
was, unless this crazy plan of mine worked. “Upton, thank you so much. Really. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “But this’ll be fun.”

“Whatever you say,” I replied with a grin. “Thanks, Upton.”

Just then there was a quick rap on my door and it started to open.

“No worries, Reed. Cheers!” Upton said as Josh walked into my room. Josh took one look at the screen and stopped in his tracks. My face burned brighter than the winter sun outside my window.

“Bye!” I replied as I slapped the laptop closed.

I turned around in my chair, my heart pounding in my temples and my palms slick with sweat. Josh looked at me quizzically. How much of Upton’s half-naked body had he actually seen?

“Who was that?” he asked.

“No one. Just an old friend,” I replied. “He lives in England and he knows the Langes, so he’s going to help us get the excuse note.”

“Oh,” Josh said, his voice flat. “That’s good, then.”

“Good? It’s incredible. Now I don’t have to find a way to get to Paris and back today. Not to mention a way to pay for it.” I got up and tried to go about getting my things together as if everything was normal, but Josh was still staring at me.

“Yeah. I’d say that’s definitely a plus,” he said eventually. “So, ready for breakfast?”

“Yeah,” I replied, avoiding eye contact as I grabbed my coat and slipped by him out the door. I glanced back at my computer, as if Upton was going to be sitting there, shirtless and waving at me. “Let’s get out of here.”

I sat on the stone bench outside the Easton student post office on Saturday morning. I kicked at the snow, waiting for the FedEx truck to arrive. Upton had texted me to let me know my package would be here, but it couldn’t come fast enough. Noelle had already missed two days of school with no explanation. What if Headmaster Hathaway had called her parents? What if he was calling them right this very moment? I imagined a helicopter blowing all the snow off the trees as it landed in the center of the quad, and Noelle’s handsome father stepping out, the picture of concern and determination, ready to consult with the FBI task force, ready to do anything and spare no expense to find his daughter.

Which would, of course, make it look like I’d broken the whole “don’t tell her parents” rule. Yeah. If this didn’t work, I was screwed.

A frigid breeze stung my face and I tugged my scarf up over my nose. I should have gone inside the post office and warmed up, but I wanted to see the truck arrive. I needed to be there when it pulled up.

After what seemed like an Antarctic eternity, I heard the rumble of an engine. A white truck came around the bend, its sides caked with muddy snow splatters. It ground to a stop behind the post office and the driver yanked on the emergency brake, leaving the engine idling. After he’d gathered his deliveries from the back, I ran for the door of the post office and held it open for him.

Please just don’t let there have been any mix-ups,
I thought silently as I pressed my lips into a tight smile.
Please, please, please let it be there.

“Thanks,” the delivery guy said, eyeing me with surprise. I guess not a lot of private school girls had held doors open for him in the past.

“No problem.”

I stood on my toes, trying to see the names on his armful of packages. He held them tighter to his chest and shot me an admonishing glance.

Biting back my frustration, I trailed him over to the mail window. Mrs. Morrison, the most elderly of all the elderly mail people employed by Easton Academy, groaned as she pushed herself off her stool and placed her Sudoku puzzle and pencil down behind the counter. I knew the protocol. Mrs. Morrison had to log everything in first before my package could be signed over to me. If there was, in fact, a package for me.

I bounced up and down on my toes in an attempt to bring some feeling back into them. Also because I couldn’t have stayed still if a sumo wrestler had walked into the room, thrown me to the floor, and sat down on my chest.

The FedEx guy placed five packages down on the countertop–two boxes and three flat letters. My heart seized up when I spied Upton’s scrawled handwriting on one of the envelopes. I clutched my gloved hands together, doing all I could do to keep from snatching it.

“Do you mind, miss?” the delivery dude asked, glancing down at me. “You’re a little close.”

“Sorry,” I said, mortified. I backed away and waited for him
and Mrs. Morrison to complete the transaction, then gave him an apologetic smile as he left the office.

“Here you go, Miss Brennan,” Mrs. Morrison croaked, her voice hoarse from about sixty years of cigarette smoking. She pushed the letter across the small countertop to me and I quickly signed the slip. “What is it that’s got you so bouncy? A love letter?” she asked, raising one eyebrow slyly.

“Something like that,” I replied. I turned around, tearing into the envelope like a rabid dog. Inside was a sealed, cream-colored envelope with the words “Headmaster Hathaway, Easton Academy” written in flowing script across the front, along with a note from Upton. The whole package smelled of lavender. It wafted up from the envelope, filling my senses and enveloping me like a hug. Somehow it made me feel calm, and a smile lit my face as I unfolded Upton’s note.

Mission accomplished, beautiful. I do so love a visit with Lenora. She’s an incredible woman. I told her she’d like you and she said she hopes to meet you one day. I think you two have a lot in common. Hope you win the scavenger hunt.

Love,

Upton

I smiled and tucked the note into my bag, wondering what on Earth I could possibly have in common with Mrs. Lange.

“Thanks, Mrs. Morrison!” I trilled, feeling momentarily peppy
now that I had the note in my possession. She lifted a hand, her eyes already trained on her puzzle. I took a deep breath and headed back out into the cold. Upton may have accomplished his part of the mission, but I still had to complete mine.

I quickly trudged across the snow-laced stone walkway to Hull Hall and strode right through the front door. My boots left wet treads on the hardwood floor. The closer I got to the headmaster’s office on the second level, the faster I moved. I was so eager to get this over with I could barely breathe. I tried to quell my nerves as I passed through the deserted outer office. It seemed the headmaster had given his secretary the day off.

The door to Mr. Hathaway’s private space was open. He sat in a high-backed chair by the fire, going over some papers, his feet up on the ornate marble-topped coffee table. I knocked on the open door and walked in, my throat dry. Even if this somehow worked and Mr. Hathaway accepted this excuse note, how were the kidnappers going to know? Was I supposed to text them back and tell them I’d finished the task? But I supposed that was a hurdle I could jump once I’d cleared this one.

“Hello, Reed,” Mr. Hathaway said, laying his stack of papers down and placing his feet on the floor. “What brings you to my office on a Saturday morning?”

I strode toward him across the Oriental rug, trying to appear as if everything was fine and normal. “Noelle asked me to give you this.”

Headmaster Hathaway eyed the envelope for a moment before
plucking it from my grasp. He picked up a silver letter opener from the coffee table and slit it open with such precision it barely even made a ripping noise. The swift action made me gulp.

Please let this work,
I thought again, clutching my gloved hands together in front of me as his eyes flicked over the page.
Please, please, please let this work.
I had a feeling I was going to be doing a lot of silent begging in the immediate, foreseeable future.

Finally Mr. Hathaway cleared his throat. He refolded the letter and tucked it back into its envelope. Hours seemed to pass before he looked up at me and spoke.

“Kindly tell Miss Lange that, in the future, she is to deliver her excuses to me herself,” he said.

Then he turned back to his paperwork and crossed his ankles on the table once more. I hesitated. What, exactly, did that mean? Was she excused from classes or not?

“Um, Mr. Hathaway? I’m sorry to bother you, but I just—”

“Don’t worry, Reed,” he replied, lifting a dismissive hand, a silver pen clasped between two fingers. “Noelle is excused until her family no longer needs her.”

Relief rushed through me so fast my knees almost buckled. “Oh. Okay. Thanks. Thanks, Mr. Hathaway!” I said a bit overenthusiastically. “I guess I’ll just … see ya!”

Then I tore out of there, slamming the door behind me in my zeal, realizing too late that it had been open when I’d arrived. But who cared? I ran down the stairs to the first floor and out into the sunshine, feeling as if I’d just been granted a new chance at life.
But at the bottom of the outdoor stairs I paused. I still had no idea how I was going to let the kidnappers know I’d completed their insane assignment.

“Hey, Reed!”

I looked up to find Kiki and Astrid striding toward me. Kiki’s white knit cap almost covered her pink-streaked hair, and Astrid wore bright green earmuffs to match her green and purple plaid coat.

“Hey, guys,” I said with an awkward smile. As much as I loved my friends, this wasn’t the best moment for company. I felt an almost primal need to be alone so I could figure out what to do next.

“Come with us!” Kiki said, tucking her arm through mine.

“Come where?” I asked, trying to figure out a way to pull away from her without seeming rude.

“We’re going to Coffee Carma to load up on caffeine for a full day of research,” Astrid said, hemming me in on the other side.

My heart thumped with that awful feeling that I’d forgotten something. “Research? For what?” I asked.

“That English assignment?” Kiki said, tucking her chin and looking at me like I’d just started speaking backward. “A fictional account of a day in the life of your favorite classical author?”

Right. That little thing. Leave it to Mrs. Carr to figure out a way to mix creative writing with extensive research with fiction reading and toss it all at us with a psychotic deadline. How the hell was I ever going to have the time or the brain space to work on something like that?

“Have you picked your author yet?” Astrid asked, blowing a purple gum bubble. “I’m doing Mary Shelley. I’d just love to imagine a day in the life of
that
twisted mind.”

“No. Not yet,” I replied as they steered me toward Mitchell Hall. The largest building on campus, Mitchell housed the Great Room, the solarium with its Coffee Carma counter, the art cemetery, and several meeting rooms and parlors. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for an escape. “I just … don’t know.” It was next to impossible to speak like a normal person while plotting to get away from them and panicking about the kidnappers at the same time. “Maybe I’ll think of something once I’ve got a cinnamon chip scone in me,” I heard myself say.