Drea takes the handkerchief back and pats the fabric between her palms. "My mother gave me this on my tenth birthday. I'd never give it up."
"Why should I believe anything any of you has to say?"
"Because, whether you like it or not, Veronica, there's a good chance something's going to happen tomorrow" I say.
"It'll happen tonight, if you don't leave me alone." Veronica rips the handkerchief out of Drea's hands.
"Give it back--now!" Drea moves to snatch it back, but Veronica's too quick. She locks the handkerchief back up in the jewelry box.
"I'm not leaving here without it," Drea says.
"Yes, you will," Veronica's eyes narrow, "because all I have to do is show that to campus police, along with all those letters you've been sending, and get you thrown out of school."
"Can we see the letters?" I ask. "To compare them to Drea's?"
"You can see the door," Veronica says.
"You wouldn't call campus police on us," Drea says, would you?"
Veronica takes a step forward, landing nose-to-nose with Drea. "You better stop harassing me, Drea Olivia Eleanor Sutton, or I will."
tw-cuty-six
Regardless of what Veronica wants, Drea, Amber, and I aren't willing to take any chances. We agree that at least one of us should be with her at all times tomorrow. Drea will be with her in the first three blocks of the day, Amber and I will see her in the fourth and fifth, and then it'll be just me and Ronnie for double-block drama until the bell rings.
After school is a bit more difficult. We end up following her to the Hangman, where she sits at her usual table with Donna, sipping double espressos and doing homework.
-This is so lame." Amber takes a giant gulp of mocha latte, planting a froth mustache over her lip. "She knows what we're doing. It's not like we ever hang out here."
"Who cares?" I break off a piece of scone and pop it into my mouth. 'At least we're doing the right thing.- I peek at Drea, her posture positioned away from me. "Dray, you want some?"
"No." She grabs a napkin and starts tearing it to shreds. "Can't we get past this?" I ask. "At least for now? It's not like you didn't completely humiliate me in the cafeteria." "I'm here for Veronica's sake and mine," she says.
"That's it."
"Well, I'm here for your sake too, just in case you forgot." I glance over at Veronica's table.
They're packing up and putting on their coats.
"They're out of here," Amber says.
"Then so are we."
We follow Veronica to dinner, sit for two hours in the library during her study group, and then follow her back to her room, where we sit outside in the hall.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Drea says, wiping a stray curl from her face.
"One of us should really be in there with her." I pace the hallway back and forth, getting weird stares from girls on the floor.
"She'll never let us in," Drea says. "We're probably wasting our time. This is probably just some huge joke. It
doesn't make sense that someone would stuff my hanky in her mailbox."
Progress. She's actually talking to me.
"Maybe she's lying," Amber says.
"That's my vote," I say. "She's definitely lying about something."
"What time is it?" Amber whines. "This is torture."
"We only have a couple more hours until midnight," I say, looking at my watch.
"I'd rather die," Drea says.
"Nice choice of words." Amber stomps over to Veronica's door and knocks. "I need grub."
'Are you kidding?" Drea says. -She'll have us arrested." "It's worth it. I need to snack."
Veronica comes to the door dressed like the burped-out version of her room: a bright-pink turtleneck sweater paired with a short, pink-checked wool skirt. "They told me you were out here."
"Who did?" Amber asks.
"People on the floor."
"Isn't your roommate with you, Veronica?" I peer around her into the room.
"Not that it's any of your business, but Donna had a date tonight. Do you girls even know what a date is?"
"Nice friend," Amber says. "Couldn't she have at least waited until tomorrow? He's not gonna ice you tomorrow" "For your information, I'm going out too."
"What?" Drea stands up. "You can't go out!"
"Not without us, anyway." Amber places her hands on her hips to block Veronica in.
"You guys don't rule my life. You better be out of here by the time I'm ready to leave, or I'll call campus police." She chases her ungratefulness with a slam of the door.
"We forgot to ask her for grub," Amber whines. "I'm gonna run to the snack machines. You gals want something?"
Drea and I shake our heads, and Amber takes off down the hallway, the paws of her teddy-bear backpack bouncing against her shoulders and hips.
And now it's just me and Drea. Alone.
Several awkward minutes pass. I continue my floor-pacing, anticipating Amber's return. I even calculate the whole snack-trip in my head. Two minutes to walk down to the lobby, three to make a snack selection, and then another two to walk up the stairs.
But luckily Drea breaks the painful silence. "You don't really think Veronica will call campus police on us, do you? She could really pin this all on me, couldn't she?"
"Because of a handkerchief? Please. I think it makes her look guilty that she even has it. Me and Amber are your witnesses. We know it isn't you. Plus, she did cheat on her French test and knows we know about it. Grounds for expulsion."
Drea nods to assure herself.
I feel relieved that she's talking to me again, despite the situation. "How do you think she knew your middle names?"
She stops from biting at her nails to really consider the question. "I don't know. But then, I don't even know how she can think it's me. I mean, I wouldn't exactly be following her around all day, making sure nothing happens to her, if I wanted to hurt her."
208
So true. "Do you really think she's going out?" I ask.
"I don't know what to think about Veronica anymore," she says.
We spend the next several minutes pacing back and forth, passing each other and memorizing patterns in the speckled gray rug, the kind that never seems to stain. Looking up toward the ceiling at the popcornlike bumps. Waiting for the door to open, for Amber to come back.
Drea looks down at her watch. "It's been, like, an hour. Where the hell is Amber?"
"Maybe one of us should check." But just as the words fall off my tongue, Amber comes bustling through the hallway door, gummy bears and salt-and-vinegar chips in hand. "What took you so long?" I ask.
"Couldn't decide. Then when I did decide, I didn't have money. So, I had to run back to my room, scrounge money out of every jacket in my closet, and then my dad called and I had to talk to him.... Gummy bear?"
"No, thanks," I say, turning from her.
Amber presses her ear to Veronica's door, cramming a wad of chips into her mouth. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing," Drea says. "She hasn't even tried to come out."
"It's like church in there," Amber says.
"Maybe she's sleeping," Drea suggests.
I close my eyes and concentrate on the pinks in the room. I try to picture Veronica amidst them, combing her hair, lounging on the bed, or watching TV. I hold the Devic crystal around my neck and rub the point for inspiration,
trying to make the image come alive inside my head. But I just can't.
"Stacey, why do you look like you just swallowed a worm?" Amber asks.
"I don't think she's in there."
"Of course she's in there." Drea presses her ear to the door and knocks.
Nothing.
She looks at Amber and me, her lips falling open with a tremble.
"Maybe she fell asleep with her Walkman on," Amber says.
"Or maybe she's not in there," I repeat.
"There's only one way to find out," Drea says. "I can pick the lock."
"You know h
ow?" I ask.
"Since when?" Amber pauses mid-chew.
Drea removes her campus ID card from its plastic holder. She wedges it into the door crack and wiggles it back and forth.
"What do you think you're doing?" says a voice from behind us.
We whirl around to find Becky Allston, class prodigy herself, standing right behind us. She purses her lips and cranes her neck forward to see what we're doing.
"Oh, it's okay" Amber says. "I locked myself out. My friend's just helping me get back in."
Drea fakes a smile and stands in front of the doorknob, like that will make a difference.
"That's not your room," Becky says.
A smart girl.
"I just moved in today," Amber says. "Aren't you gonna, like, welcome me to your floor?"
Amber holds her bag of chips out to Becky as an offering.
"No, but I will call campus police."
"Go ahead," Amber says, yanking her chips back. "They'll just tell you it's true."
Becky turns on her heels, takes a step back into her room, and slams the door.
"Shit," Amber says, mid-crunch. "We need to bug. It's after eleven anyway."
"No!" Drea turns back to continue with the lock. She swivels her wrist left and right, nuzzling the card in further. "I almost got it." Click. Drea smiles. "We're in."
We swing the door wide open and it's just as I expected. Veronica is gone. But she's left two pink suitcases in the middle of the floor.
"So you're telling me she went out the window," Drea says. "That's, like, three stories."
"So doable with a fire escape," Amber says, closing the door and locking it. "Trust me."
"What's with the suitcases?" I ask, checking them out, lifting up on the handle of each to feel the ample weight.
"Maybe she's planning on going home until after this blows over," Drea says.
"Then why would she tell us she thinks it's all fake?" "Something's screwy," Amber says.
We search around for some clue as to where she might have gone, but her daily planner is empty and her books are still in a pile on the desk.
"She could have gone anywhere," Drea says, trying to unlock the jewelry box with the tip of a pen.
"Bobby pin works better," Amber says, pulling one from behind her ear. "You're not the only one with hidden talents."
I search around Veronica's night table, shuffling through fluorescent-pink sticky notes, wadded-up pink tissue balls, and strawberry Starburst wrappers. Everything looks normal, which makes me feel like we're wasting time, like we should be out looking instead of rifling through nothing.
"Hey guys, look at this." Drea has gotten the jewelry box open. Handkerchief in hand, she plucks out a note, written in the same red block lettering as all the other notes: MIND YOUR OWN
BUSINESS.
"What does this mean?" Drea asks.
"It could mean a couple things," I say "Either someone sent this to Veronica as a warning, maybe because he knew you guys were comparing stalker notes. Or, Veronica wrote it herself and was stashing it away"
"That doesn't make sense," Amber says. "She wouldn't have stashed away her own note. She just would have given
it.
"Not unless someone interrupted her and she had to hide it real quick," Drea says.
"I don't know," I say. "But if someone did send this to her, we have to find her--fast."
Amber takes a seat at Veronica's computer table while I weed through Veronica's trash, littering at least a dozen paper balls onto the floor. I smooth each one out against my chest, trying to find some clue as to where she might have gone.
"Hey, chicas, check this out." Amber has gotten into Veronica's e-mail. "There's a message from Chad." Drea and I join Amber at the computer.
"Why would Chad be sending Veronica e-mail?" Drea's jaw tightens.
"Maybe he wants to say good night before bed." Amber smiles in Drea's direction.
We read the message silently to ourselves. "Dear Veronica," it begins. "Yesterday, after school, I was in Madame Lenore's room and noticed a bunch of cheat sheets in the desk where you sit. I'm pretty sure it's your writing. I was trying to do you a favor by getting rid of them, but when I grabbed them, she came back into the room. I didn't want to get caught with the sheets in my hand, so I hid them in the closest place, along the chalkboard ledge. I know Madame's in there first thing in the morning. If I were you, I'd get them tonight. The window in Room 104 is always open a crack. Good luck. Chad."
"Why would Chad want to help her?" Drea asks.
"I don't know," I say. "But I bet that's where she is." I touch my Devic crystal and close my eyes.
I can picture her there, walking down the main corridor, her heels clanking against the green and white linoleum floor. "Let's go."
"Wait," Drea says. "It doesn't make sense. There's no window left open in 104.It's true," Amber says. "Campus police never closes it." "How do you know?"
"I used to date campus police, remember?"
"We don't have time for this," I say. "That's where she is. Let's go."
We leave the room a mess, boog it out the door, and make our way across the muddy soccer field in almost complete darkness. We don't speak to one another, so I have no idea what either of them are thinking. I only know that in my heart there's a sense of dread, and in my belly, the urge to be sick.
Room 104 of the O'Brian Building is just in front of us, the window open a crack, just as Chad's e-mail and Amber said.
"Why didn't we bring a flashlight?" Drea asks.
"I have one." Amber pulls a mini-flashlight from her backpack. She hands it to me. "I never leave home without it."
I aim the light into the classroom, but from what I can see--chalkboards, rows of desks, books under the seats nothing looks out of the ordinary. "We're gonna have to go in," I say.
"I refuse to go in there," Drea says.
"Why?" Amber asks.
-Why? Are you crazy? How do I know this isn't some trick? How do I know you guys aren't part of it?"
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
She shakes her head and her mouth tenses into a tight little slit.
"Drea," I say, "you have to come. We're not about to leave you out here alone."
She just keeps shaking her head, sucking in and letting out these enormous breaths, not looking at either of us. "Drea?"
She blinks hard a few times, as if she can't focus. Her breath quickens, becomes more urgent.
She grabs around
her throat and starts to hyperventilate. "I can't breathe," she puffs out. Her body begins to waver back and forth. Her feet stumble. "I can't--" But before I have the chance to try and hold her up, she folds to the ground like an old cardboard box.
I squat down by her side. 'Amber, do you have your cell phone?" I pull at the backpack resting by Amber's ankles, but Amber snatches it back. "Amber, we need to call campus police."
"We're not supposed to be out here. She'll be okay. She's done this before. Just give her a minute." Amber kneels down and places her hand on Drea's forehead, as though checking her temperature.
'Amber, she doesn't have a fever, give me your phone. Now!"
Amber finally gives in and tosses it to me. I try to dial, but nothing happens. I look at the phone screen. "No charge. You need to go for help. I'll stay here.-
Amber looks at Drea, gasping for breath; her lips, dry and chalky; her eyes, fluttering closed. She gets up and runs toward the campus road.
I prop Drea's head up on my lap, wondering if I should try CPR. "Help is on the way, Drea. Just hold on."
Drea tries to puff out a few words, but they aren't clear.
"Shh... don't try to talk." I wipe the droplets of sweat from her forehead and notice she's cold and shaking as well. I look back up in the direction of the road. Donovan is running toward me.
Amber follows close behind, and then Chad.
215
"What happened?" Donovan drops a spiral sketchbook to the ground,
peels off his jacket, and tucks it under Drea's head.
'Amber, didn't you find campus police?"
"I found Donovan first."
"What happened?" Donovan repeats.
"I don't know. She just started hyperventilating."
"I'll go get some help." Chad turns back toward the road.
Donovan's face is sweaty and urgent. He loosens Drea's blouse at the neck and places his hand over her heart. "Come on, Drea," he says. "Try to control your breathing. Don't panic. Breathe in and then blow out."
I can tell Drea is listening to him, relying on the confidence in his voice to help steady her.
"You're still taking too much air into your lungs." Donovan reaches down to hold her sweaty palm. "Try to think about breathing through your chest, in and out. Don't panic. As long as you're breathing, you'll be okay."
It takes Donovan several minutes to calm Drea's breathing. He whips off his sweater, leaving only a thin T-shirt, and covers her with it. "It's okay" he whispers, stroking her hair back. "You're gonna be okay. Just don't try to talk."
"The ambulance is on its way." Chad jogs toward us with a campus police officer.
"She's doing much better." Donovan reaches one arm under Drea's neck and the other at the curve of her back to help her sit up. "She had a panic attack. I used to get them too."
"She's lucky you were here to help," the officer says. "What were you doing out here, anyway?" I ask.
"I was just sketching." Donovan looks up toward the sky. "When was the last time you saw a sky like tonight?"
I look up, noticing the star formation, the way the waxing moon, still days from first quarter, looks against the inky black sky.
"The best view is from the quad benches, looking north," Donovan continues. "No buildings in the way" He turns to Chad. "Where did you come from?"
"I was just walking across campus. I saw you guys running, and thought maybe something was wrong."
"Normally you'd all get written up for being out after curfew," the officer says. "But all considered, I think we can let a hero and his friends slide."
I'm not even sure Donovan hears him. He's completely soaking on Drea, making sure she's breathing at a normal rate, that her hair is pushed back off her face and her hands aren't dirty from the ground.