The Case of the Missing Mascot (A Sherlock Shakespeare Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

I experienced my first bout of hesitation as my hand froze while sliding between the mattress and box springs. Wasn't this where guys kept their porn mags? Did guys even still have porn mags in the Internet Age?

It didn't matter. There was nothing under the mattress anyway.

Drew's desk was maybe the one chaotic part of his bedroom. Apparently, the cheerleading sponsor hated trees. We were barely back to school and she'd already sent home eleven different papers about stuff that looked totally trivial. The drama teacher was just as bad. I found three scripts, two audition notices and the sheet music for the annual school musical.

Please God, let Drew get talked into being in the musical and let me be the one to cover it for the yearbook. Drew was my friend and I loved him, but he couldn't sing his way out of a mime's invisible box.

Other than potential best friend embarrassment material, the desk was a bust. I glanced up at the big wall calendar in case he had ‘Kidnap Champers and take to secret location X’ written over the weekend. He didn't. What he did have was a picture of the two of us that Irene took over the summer. Yeah, she was one of those people who still used a real camera and took the film to the drugstore for development.

Why did he still have that picture? I thought we'd agreed that I had a stupid look on my face and that he'd destroy it. Perhaps I should go ahead and take it so that he wouldn't have to worry about getting around to its destruction.

My fingers had barely grazed the picture's shiny surface when a spastic, fast-paced ringtone erupted from my pocket and instantly doubled my blood pressure.

"Hey, Jamie."

"Sherlock, where are you? I've been waiting at your house for a half hour."

"Were we supposed to study?"

"No. I really need to talk to you. I think my life might be over."

Somehow, I doubted her life was really over. I mean, she wasn't one of the freshman cheerleaders.

"I got caught up studying at the bookstore. I'll be home soon."

"Okay, but hurry."

Sadly, I didn't realize I'd left that picture on Drew's calendar until I was halfway home. I'd get it next time.

I made the walk home from Drew's house as quickly as I could. Tuesday was the night my parents taught a night class. Okay, my mother taught a night class, but Dad held evening office hours so they could still drive home together. That meant that Watson had been alone in the house with Jamie for the last half hour.

And Jamie was a lot to take even when she wasn't declaring her life was over.

On the way, I tried to reason that it didn't matter if my search was cut short. It wasn't like they'd leave information on where Champers was sitting on the kitchen table. When you didn't bother to lock your front door, you couldn't afford to leave details of your pignapping plans laying around.

I found Jamie pacing in the kitchen, rapid-firing questions at my brother when I arrived. At some point, Watson looked to have been studying at the table, but now his head was slumped between his hands with his fingers interlocked and lightly tugging at the light brown hair near the back of his neck. It was the posture of a defeated man who'd been left alone with Jamie just a little too long.

"Why won't you just answer my question, William Watson Shakespeare?"

His voice bounced off the kitchen table. "Because I don't know. Because you're insane. Because I'm a high school freshman and don't know anything about UT's law school admissions policies. Pick whichever answer will make this stop."

Jamie opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off before she could ruin Watson's evening any more than she already had. "Hey, Jamie. Let's go up to my room."

"Finally. Your brother is useless."

Watson's forehead hit the table. "That's what I tried to tell you when you got here," he grumbled in a muffled voice.

Once we were in my room, I closed the door behind us and asked, "Why are you grilling Wats about law school?"

"Because I'm completely freaking out, Sherlock!"

"Whoa." I held my hands out in front of me in surrender... and maybe to cover that she scared me enough that I'd backed up against the door. "I'm going to need a little more to catch up than that."

She sank down onto my bed and hugged one of my pillows to her chest. No, hugged wasn't really accurate. It was more like she was violently clutching my pillow as though it could escape at any minute.

Was escape an option for me? No? Damn.

"I've known since I was eight that I was already too behind academically to get into an Ivy League school. Now I don't think UT is going to be an option either."

I moved closer, but not too close, and sat on my desk, momentarily wondering if this would be the time that it would give out under my weight. "Did we take different tours or something? Everything I heard sounded like you were a shoe-in."

If my pillow could've screamed in pain, it would've. "I guess. Maybe. But undergrad is just the first step. I have to start thinking about getting accepted into their law school now. Not in three years. Not next month. Now."

"Why is it something to worry about ever? Your grades will be just as awesome in college as they are now. If you can get into UT, I'm sure you can get into their law school as well."

She threw what had once been a fluffy, happy pillow at me and shouted, "You don't understand anything!" Then she started pacing around the room fast enough to give anyone motion sickness. Except me. I didn't throw up unless my life depended on it. Even then, maybe not. "You don't just need good grades to get into UT Law. They have their pick of the best from colleges around the country. Just being on campus and getting straight-As isn't enough anymore."

I was now all but hiding behind my lifeless pillow. "I don't understand." Did my voice just go up an octave? "I thought everything was fine. You were happy on the drive home." I straightened and relaxed my grip on the shield pillow a little. "You sang
Let It Whip
when it came on the radio."

And Jamie never sang along to the radio unless she was elated or high... and Jamie had probably never been high in her life.

"I
did
not."

"You did so. You were
shoulder dancing.
"

She stopped pacing. "Fine, but I hadn't thought about it all yet."

"All what?"

"When I was walking around campus Friday night after you abandoned me, I ran into some law students in the library and—"

"You went to the library of a school you don't even go to on a Friday night?"

"Of course. Where else would I find law students?" The pacing resumed. "Anyway. They filled me in on how competitive admission is. Turns out, a large portion of the students they admit graduated first in their class in high school and then killed it in college."

Killed what? Their social lives? "But you're already at the top of our class. I don't see how any of this is a problem."

For perhaps the first time in all the years I'd known Jamie, she stammered and sputtered unintelligibly in lieu of a response. "The point is that I might not get into the law school even if the university accepts me."

"When. You're a shoe-in." Against my better judgment, I set the pillow aside and hopped off my desk so I could approach her. If I didn't talk her down, she'd wear right though my carpet with her pacing. "How do you even know they were telling the truth? They could've just been screwing with you."

She half-heartedly shook off the comforting hand I put on her shoulder. "You don't understand. No one does. The lengths I've gone to. The things I've done. It can't all just be for nothing."

"What can't be for nothing?" As a solid non-overachiever, I had no idea what it looked like when they flamed out and headed to Nervous Breakdownville, but I was concerned that this was it for Jamie. "You're not making sense."

"It doesn't matter." It momentarily looked as though a tear might escape her eye, but she must've kept it at bay though sheer force of will. "Did you schedule your meeting with your counselor yet? You're supposed to do that after a college visit to assess and strategize."

I was pretty sure no one did that except for Jamie. "No. I've been a little busy."

"You mean distracted. Just delete Tom from your life and focus."

"It's not really that simple. I think we're still sort of working things out."

"You shouldn't. Dump him now. Boyfriends are a pointless distraction in college."

That was similar to what she'd told me when I first started dating Tom, except then boyfriends had been distractions in high school. And she'd added that I should keep a condom with me because teenage boys were irresponsible. Sadly, she'd been right.

I loved our girl talk.

Jamie was still talking. And pacing. Again. "Besides, Tom's in Austin. You're here. You had no excuse not to see your counselor after school yesterday. You didn't work and you know they stay late on Mondays."

Um, no one knew the schedule of the guidance counselors except Jamie. "I've had a lot going on between Tom and looking for Champers."

"Not you too." She started waving her hands around like a defeated lunatic. "I can't talk to you if you're going to talk to me about a missing pig while my entire future is in jeopardy."

I tried to respond, but she was out the door and down the stairs before I could tell her that I didn't actually care about the mascot, just the distraction he provided from Tom. It was just as well. Jamie had never been very good at the touchy-feely listening to other people's problems part of friendship. That was why I had Drew.

Besides, it wasn't like her freaking out over random school things was anything new. She'd never been quite this crazed over anything before, but I did remember her locking herself in her room every day after school for a month and crying when she'd first realized she wouldn't get to go to an Ivy League. Which college you'll attend in ten years is really crucial stuff when you're eight.

The typewriter sound erupted from my phone while I was in the process of trying to refluff my pillow so that I wouldn't have to sleep on a stone tonight. Tom. I almost didn't read it, but thought better of it. I hadn't realized that I wanted to try working stuff out with him until I'd said the words to Jamie before her hurried departure. I mean, he was a crappy boyfriend, but he was still the only one I'd ever had.

I had to read the text a few times before I was convinced it actually came from Tom.

I love you too much to throw away the last two years over a misunderstanding. Please talk to me.

I was still sitting on the edge of my bed staring at the phone in my hands when my door flew open so hard that it hit the doorstop with a loud
thwack
. I glanced up and found Watson standing there. He didn't look happy.

"You have got to give me some notice before Psycho comes over so that I can barricade myself in my room. Leaving me alone with her all night isn't cool."

"I didn't know Jamie was coming over until she called me."

"Well, she's a nightmare. I don't know why you're even friends with her."

Sometimes, I wondered the same thing myself. Of course, unlike Watson, I didn't have dozens of other friends to call when I wanted to do something. We were basically polar opposites and, at times, I wondered if we were actually related. I was too young at the time to remember him being born, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if my parents admitted the stork had dropped him off on our front porch.

"Look, I'm sorry, Wats, but I can't control what Jamie does or whether she calls before coming over. She's just seriously stressed about college right now, I guess. Just let it go."

He huffed and puffed for a minute before striking back with, "And stop snooping through my social media accounts. I don't like it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a bad liar. You left my account open to the page of one of my friends at another school."

Busted. "Oh. Sorry."

"That's all you're going to say?"

After yet again coming up empty on my search for Champers, dealing with Jamie's over-the-top temper tantrum and Tom's Jekyll and Hyde routine, I was starting to get fed up. "What do you want me to say? I snooped. You caught me. I apologized. Get over it."