Parent-teacher conferences, I decided, were the dumbest things ever.
I hung out in the hallway while they talked, dragging the toe of my boot back and forth across the floor. I could hear someone banging on a locker and I finally got annoyed and went to inspect the noise. I found Jesse Oliver trying to get his Master Lock open. He would try, then bang it against the locker in anger, and try again.
If this wasn’t a sign from the heavens, I didn’t know what was.
“Hi,” I said. “Do you need help or is this just an extreme sport?”
“I’m fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “This lock is just broken.”
“Want me to try?”
“Be my guest,” he said. “I hope you enjoy frustrating experiences.”
“Oh, I live for them,” I said, then starting spinning the dial around. “Are you here for your parent-teacher conference?”
“Yeah, my dad’s supposed to be here soon.”
Armand was going to be here! My heart started to beat a little faster and I glanced toward the closed door of my French classroom. There was no way that my parents and Armand could see each other, not if I had anything to say about it. They would probably try to usurp the whole mission, and I wasn’t about to surrender my very first assignment. Not yet, anyway.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Jesse said after I started to spin the dial back and forth, trying to feel the catch of the wheel.
“I picked up this talent in middle school,” I replied. “My locker was always busted. What’s the combo?”
“24-37-2.”
“Easy enough.” I spun it a few times, then felt the wheel catch on a 3. “I think it’s actually 24-37-3.”
“No, it’s not. The locker assignment said …”
I popped it open. “It’s three,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Wow.” He looked at the lock, then back at me. “That explains why I can never get it open.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“Sorry. Thanks. Thank you, that was awesome.”
I shrugged. “Like I said, easy enough.” Down the hall, the double doors swung open and I saw a dark-haired man heading toward us. He had the same build as Jesse and looked to be about the same height.
I didn’t need a dossier picture to know that it was Armand.
“Well, see you around,” I told Jesse, starting to walk backward. “Good luck with the conference. Hope you’re not failing calculus.”
He looked at me oddly. “I am failing calculus. How did you—?”
But I was already around the corner, ducking behind another row of lockers. “Stupid!” I whispered to myself. Why didn’t I just tell Jesse that I knew his entire school transcript? I had never tripped myself up like that before.
“Is Mom here?” I heard Jesse ask, and I pressed myself against the wall and tried to be as small as possible.
There was a pause before Armand said, “No,” and an even longer pause before he said, “I’m sorry.”
Where was Mrs. Oliver? As far as the dossier knew, they were still married. Was she out of town?
“It’s cool,” Jesse said, and I didn’t have to see his face to know how disappointed he was. He was the aural equivalent of a kicked puppy.
“I’ll e-mail her an update,” Armand said. His voice was deep but not all villain-y. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. I’ll send it as soon as I get home.”
“No, don’t do that,” Jesse said. “If she wanted to know, she’d be there.”
“Son, I’m sure she—”
“Forget it. C’mon, you’re late.”
Armand sounded way nicer than I had imagined. I don’t know why I had pictured some gruff guy sitting behind a computer and chomping on a cigar, but it was clear that he was trying to make Jesse feel better about his absent mom.
I was tempted to follow Jesse and find out more, but I heard the door to the French classroom open and I hustled over as fast as I could. My French is so bad that I couldn’t tell what my parents or Monsieur McPhulty were discussing, but it sounded like they were long-lost friends by this point.
“Hey,” I said brightly. “How’d it go? Am I expelled?”
“Hardly,” my mom said.
“We should go,” I said. “Right now. Thanks Mr.—I mean, Monsieur—McPhulty.”
“En français, s’il vous plaît.”
Oh, brother.
“Bonjour. I mean, merci. Shoot, I mean, au revoir.” I was so eager to get my parents out of there before they accidentally ran into Armand that I would have had better luck speaking Swedish.
“What is wrong with you?” my dad whispered as soon as we rounded the corner. “Did someone phone in a bomb threat?”
“Worse. Armand is here.”
“Did he see you?” both of my parents asked at the same time.
“No, but it was close. C’mon, let’s go.”
“That garden,” my mom said as we hurried out of the building, “really is just darling.”
Chapter 6
It took me nearly an hour to find Roux after school the next day. I looked all over the campus, and when that didn’t work, I hunted in the surrounding neighborhood, poking my head into every Starbucks, anti-Starbucks, and clothing store that I passed. I figured I would hear Roux before I could see her, since her mouth is bigger than her height, but after turning up Roux-less, I finally gave up and trudged back to my locker.
And there she was, standing in front of her locker, angrily grabbing books out and shoving old ones back in like they had said something personally offensive to her.
“Roux!” I called out when I saw her, but she didn’t look up. “Roux, c’mon!”
“You don’t have to shout,” she said when I was close enough. “It’s not like half the school is named Roux. I heard you the first time.”
“Where have you been?” I asked her. “I looked all over for you. I had to eat lunch in the library.”
“That’s good for you. Builds character.”
“Roux.”
She sighed and slammed her locker shut. “Look, today has been the longest day ever and now I just want to go home and soak in my bathtub and watch reality television so I can feel better about myself. So please, tell me what you need so I can get it for you and then go about my business.”
I paused. “You know what? You should take debate or something. I mean it, you’re really eloq—”
“Did you just chase me down to suggest that I enroll myself in a class that teaches useless arguing?”
“Um, no.” I stood a bit taller and put on my best smile. “We need to talk about Halloween.”
Roux just sighed and brushed past me. “The devil’s holiday. Don’t eat unwrapped candy. Trick-or-treat with a buddy. There, I think we’ve covered everything.”
I dashed to catch up with her and planted myself directly in her path. “I need your help.”
“I gathered.”
“I may or may not have told Jesse Oliver that I was going dressed as a spy for Halloween.”
“Excellent. Try to figure out how you can show some cleavage in the costume.” She started to walk away again, but I moved so she was trapped in the hallway. “Um, does this count as harassment?”
“Nope. Now please, help me. I need help. You always tell me that.”
“Fine! Oh my God, you’re relentless. I admire that, I have to admit. So what do you need? Night-vision goggles?”
“No, those are way too heavy to be useful,” I said without thinking, but all my comment did was make Roux smile. A reluctant smile, but a smile just the same.
“Okay,” she said. “So you need help with your costume.”
I twisted my hands in front of me. “Kind of?”
“Kind of.”
“I also need help with a party. Wait!” I said as she rolled her eyes and started to walk away. “Look, he overheard me talking about my costume and so now I have to have one, but it doesn’t do me any good to wear it on Halloween night witho
ut going out. So I need a party.”
“What, do you think I just carry parties around in my pocket?”
“Well …” I gave her my most charming, possible-BFF smile. “Maybe you could throw a party?”
“HA!” Her laugh sounded anything but amused. “Trust me, Mags, if I threw a party, the only people who’d be attending would be you, me, and the housekeeper. And she leaves every night at seven.”
“Come on!” I pleaded with her, following her down the steps of school and into the front of the building. It was chilly in the shade, and I was glad for the peacoat that Angelo had bought for me. “You probably know how to throw a party better than anyone else.”
When in doubt, go with flattery. A tried-and-true rule.
“That’s true,” Roux admitted. “I can throw a hell of a party. The only problem is that no one will come. I just told you.”
“Well, aren’t you popular?” I said.
Roux snorted.
“You have friends, right?”
Roux held her arms around and turned in a circle. “Yes, these are my friends. All of them. Can’t you see them? Aren’t they stunning?” She dropped her hands back down at her sides and glared at me. “I don’t know which of your five senses doesn’t work, but in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any friends.”
“Well, okay, maybe not here at school, but …”
“No friends. Nowhere. Nada. No one’s told you yet?”
“No one really talks to me,” I admitted. “I don’t have any friends either.”
“Well, at least there’s hope for your friendless life.” She glanced down the street. “God, I need a cigarette.”
“You smoke?” I gasped before I could help myself.
“Not anymore. I quit last year. The teeth bleaching was getting too expensive. You know.”
“It’s so bad for you,” I said. “The smoking, I mean, not the teeth bleaching.”
“Well, yeah, that too. Look, here’s the deal. I’m just going to tell you because clearly someone has to, and it might as well be me.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as serious as I had ever seen her. “Last year, I slept with this girl Julia’s boyfriend, and it really upset her because it was true love, et cetera, and I screwed it all up for her. Literally and figuratively. And for some reason, everyone else has taken her side.”
“For some reason?” I repeated. “Roux, that’s kind of a big deal.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, it was … I didn’t mean to, let’s just say that.”
“So everyone just stopped talking to you?”
She was looking guiltier by the minute. “Well, I had kind of not really been nice to a lot of people. Like, ever. At all. And it’s a small school and karma’s a bitch, as they say.”
“Were you a Mean Girl?” I asked. “I saw the movie.”
Roux paused for a long time before finally saying, “Yes. I was a bitch to people. I talked about girls, made up rumors, all of that. Ever since fifth grade.”
“So now you’re persona non grata,” I said. “Wow. Social justice, like, never happens. I’m sorry!” I told her when she frowned and started to walk away. “I’m really sorry, it just slipped out.”
“Yes, please, enjoy my karmic retribution.” Roux didn’t even turn around as she walked away. “Forget I said anything. Good luck with your party.” She disappeared up the street and around the corner, lost in the midafternoon crowd.
Fifteen minutes later, as I was trudging toward Gramercy Park to think, my civilian phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Hi?”
“It’s Roux. Wow, answer your phone much?”
“Oh, hi!” I said. I hadn’t had a friend call me on the phone since, well, ever, so this was kind of a big deal for me. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to the caller ID.”
“Yes, I can tell. Look … I’m sorry for being all awkward and walking away. I don’t really talk to anyone about what happened … so, yeah. Sorry. Sometimes I’m weird.”
I grinned. “S’okay. Sometimes I’m weird, too.”
“I know.” I could tell she was smiling when she said it, though. “Are you still at school?”
“No, I’m just heading home,” I said as I kept walking farther away from home. “And I’m sorry, too. That was a really rude thing to say. True, but rude.”
“Fair enough. Apology given and accepted. Now do you still want a party?”
“Of course.” I ran my hand along the side of the grate along Gramercy Park South, my fingers making thudthudthud sounds along the iron bars. “Are you going to bite the bullet and throw one?”
“No. But I heard that Jesse Oliver is.”
I came to a screeching halt. “Are you serious? How do you know?”
“I heard this girl talking about it after I walked away. She’s a senior, she knows things. We used to be fr—anyway, he’s having a Halloween party in two weeks. You’re welcome.”
I couldn’t stop the stupid grin that was crawling up the sides of my face. “This couldn’t be more perfect!” I squealed. “Is he having it at his house? When is it?”
“Yes, and Halloween night.”
I gleefully punched the air, attracting absolutely no interest from any of the other pedestrians. “This is so perfect!” I told Roux, but she had no idea how perfect it was. Make nicey-nice with Jesse Oliver? Check! Get into his house so I can scope out his father’s office and see what his safe situation was? Check, check! Foil Dad Oliver’s plan, save the world, and be promoted to head spy of all time? CHECK, CHECK, AND CHECK!
“Are you there?” Roux’s voice crackled over the phone. “Maggie? I hope you didn’t get hit by a bus.”
“I’m here. No bus casualties.” I straightened my coat and tried to brush my hair out of my face. “I’m cool. I’m just so happy!”
“Have you never been to a party before?”
“Um, you mean, like, ever?”
“I mean as a teenager. Oh no,” she moaned when I hesitated, “you haven’t.”
“I’m a really fast learner!” I protested. “Just come with me.”
“Uh-oh, you’re breaking up!” she said, even though the reception was crystal clear. “What terrible timing! Don’t you just hate the cell phone area near Central Park? Bye!”
I just smiled to myself and tucked my phone back in my pocket. Getting Roux to the party would be a piece of cake.
Did I say a piece of cake? I’d like to amend that statement. It was like an ant trying to haul a boulder up a hill. Twice. That’s what it was like.
I begged, cajoled, and pleaded with her for a full week, but she refused to attend. “There’s no way I’m dressing up as a social outcast for Halloween,” was her answer every time I asked.
“But that was last year,” I protested as we walked through school on Tuesday, three days before Halloween. “I’m serious, you know how people are. They forget about things.”
“Oh, really?” Roux said, then turned and smiled at a brunette passing us. “Hey, Julia, what’s up? How are things?”
“Slut,” Julia responded, and kept walking.
Roux just looked back at me knowingly. “You were saying?”
“Roux …”
“Here’s how it works,” Roux said, not even slowing her pace. “Once you fall, you fall. You’re like that ring thing in the lava. You’re not coming back.”
“The ring thing?”
“With the short guys.”
“Oh, you mean The Lord of the Rings.”
“Yeah, that. I don’t get to climb the social ladder anymore. Maybe if I move to Poughkeepsie, then I’ll have another shot at glory, but for now, I’m not going anywhere. I’m dirt. And dirt,” she concluded just before she ducked into her English class, “isn’t exactly welcome at parties.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I told Angelo on Wednesday as we drank hot chocolate in front of the New York Public Library. (He had summoned me there with a quick pencil sketch
of two lions reading books.) “I’ve tried everything.”
“Flattery?”
“Duh.” I poked at the marshmallows in my rapidly cooling cup. “Why don’t we ever meet somewhere warm? Why can’t we meet at the movies?”
Angelo raised an eyebrow. “I was unaware that you enjoyed films.”
“I can learn if it means I’m warm.”
“You are a fast learner, I’m sure you’d be quite proficient in French—”
“Quit the flattery. You’ve heard my accent.”
Angelo smiled and adjusted his scarf a little. “Well noticed. So your friend Roux—charming name, by the way—”
“Ha. Wait till you meet her before thinking that.”
“—refuses to go along with you to this Halloween party. And you’re upset. Can you go by yourself?”
I guess my face gave it away because Angelo kept talking. “Obviously not. Well, then, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“That’s it?”
Angelo merely shrugged. “I don’t know this Roux as well as you do. I can only tell you what I would do if I had to convince you to do something.”
I waited but he didn’t say anything. “And?” I prompted. “Throw me a rope here.”
“I would tell you that you couldn’t do it.” He was getting a bit of a hot chocolate mustache, which looked hilarious on him. “What if I told you that you wouldn’t be able to crack a safe? What would you do?”
“Learn how to crack it, then crack it,” I admitted. “As fast as I could.”
“Well, then, there you have it. Roux and you sound very similar. Let me know how it works out.”
“We sound similar? Really?”
“Very much so, yes. Witty, talented, and in need of a friend.” He patted the top of my head and neatly balanced his empty cup on top of an already overflowing trash can. “Let me know if you need any costume ideas.” He gestured to his pinstripe navy suit. “I can be quite dapper.”
“So are penguins!” I yelled as he disappeared around the corner, but I wasn’t sure if he heard me. It was probably for the best if he didn’t.
Chapter 7
On Thursday morning, I waited for Roux to find me. I’m not a patient person, as you can imagine. I hate waiting. My dad always says that I would be terrible on a stakeout and could probably never work for the FBI. I replied that I couldn’t work for the FBI because of that whole Luxembourg thing, much less my lack of patience.