The Nightingale Files : The Rook and Queen Page 2

  Felix nodded and smirked at me. “I think we’ll get along just fine. And, for the record, pep is the worst. I doubt I lost any.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being flirtatious or just funny. I trusted my gut that it was the latter.

  “You need a ride or anything? Not that I have a car yet, but my Dad is going to pick me up, and we can drop you somewhere.”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “I’m confused.” I looked at him quizzically.

  “I thought you might need a ride.”

  “You waited for me?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

  “But I was in Newspaper. You waited? Just to see if I needed a ride?”

  “Yes. I thought we already established that,” he said dryly.

  “We did. I’m just shocked.”

  “Why? Just thought the new kids should stick together.”

  “We just met, like, a minute ago. The only other person I know who would wait on me was Carol.”

  “Who’s Carol?”

  “My best friend. She moved last year.”

  “Well, see? Then you need someone else to wait on you and give you a ride.”

  “It’s good logic, to be sure, but nonetheless surprising from someone on his first day at All Saints Academy. And maybe a little creepy. I don’t even know you,” I said facetiously.

  “I’m full of surprises. Come on. Let’s get coffee on the way to your house.”

  “K. Let me check in with my Dad.”

  I watched him walk toward his truck as the call rang on the other end.

  “How’s my girl?” My Dad’s hearty voice rang in my ear, causing a smile to hook at the corner of my mouth as I said hello.

  “I made a new friend today, and he’s offered me a ride home. Just wanted to make sure that was okay.”

  He paused before asking, “You feel okay about it?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s new here. I’m sort of new here. So, I think we might be good friends. He seems like a good guy.”

  “Alright. How long does it take to get to the house? You have your mace?”

  “Eight minutes flat. Ten with traffic. And yes. Left pocket in my pack.”

  “Alright, text me when you get home. I’ll expect it in ten minutes.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You bet, Avery Brave. Proud of you.”

  “You’re proud of me for getting a ride home from a boy I just met? This seems backward, Mr. Nightingale.”

  His laugh was just as hearty as his voice as he said, “It’s much bigger than that, and you know it.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll text you soon.”

  3.

  “How was the first day, dear?” Mother asked as she passed the potatoes across to my father.

  “It had its highs and its lows,” I said as I moved the tomatoes in my salad around my plate.

  “Which should we start with?” my father inquired, winking at me, fully aware of what I should lead with.

  “Why don’t you start with who brought you home? Your father said a friend brought you home?” she asked without masking her concern.

  I smiled, thinking back to my interactions with Felix that day. “I’d say he’s part of the high. I made a new friend today. His name is Felix, and he’s the new kid at Saints this year.”

  “Oh, it’s a boy?” Mother clarified not-so-subtly.

  “Yes, Mom, but he’s just a friend. Promise,” I assured her, reaching over to pat her arm. “But I made a friend, just like you prayed,” I said, hoping to distract her from the boy subject.

  “But just to clarify, he is a boy?” she continued.

  “Dinah, relax,” my father coddled with a sip of his tea. “Where is he transferring from?” he asked me.

  “His father is in the military, and they just moved here.”

  “Ah, I see. I bet he’s moved around a lot. That was good of you to befriend him on his first day, Avery. Well done.”

  “Well, that’s the funny part,” I said. “I was the only one that spoke to him this morning, but I feel like, mostly, he befriended me. He even waited for me after the newspaper to see if I needed a ride home.”

  Mother’s eyebrows went to the top of her forehead while she folded her mashed potatoes with her meatloaf.

  “And you’re sure he’s just a friend, dear?”

  “Yeah, mom. Just friends.”

  “Moving on, Dinah…,” Dad said, coming to my aid.

  “Ok, Clive, you’re right,” she finally relented.

  Dad nodded and smiled at her. “So what was the low?”

  I sighed at the memory. “I have to do this story for the paper on the pep rally Friday night, and they assigned a football player to essentially co-write it with me.”

  “It’s not Ace, is it?” my Father’s brows practically soared with concern.

  “No, to my relief, it’s not. I think I would have quit the paper if that had happened.”

  “Now, Avery…,” Mother started in but then paused. “Never mind. That’s fair.”

  “So, who is it?” Dad continued.

  “Nate Reinhart.”

  “Isn’t he the running back?” Dad seemed more interested than concerned now.

  “I think so…,” I answered, keeping my tone aloof.

  “So, why don’t you want to write it with him?”

  “I just don’t love football players,” I admitted as I swirled my potatoes in a clockwise pattern. Mom reached across the table and patted my arm.

  “Avery Brave, I understand where you’re coming from—believe me, I do—but they aren’t all the same.”

  “But they are all kind of friends. Today, Ace mocked me in class, and they all sort of joined in—like they have inside jokes about Avery Brave,” I said, using air quotes in irritation, “which I’m sure they actually do, come to think of it.”

  Dad put his fork down and looked at me seriously but thoughtfully. “So maybe the low is more that Ace is still able to be in school? And maybe that we wanted you to not run away from him?”

  I sighed heavily and shrugged my shoulders. They felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. Dad was right. The weight of Ace Wentworth was going to follow me around school all year. Maybe longer.

  “Probably,” I said solemnly. “Plus, I don’t have Carol.”

  Mom and Dad exchanged a sympathetic look.

  “I know it’s hard,” Mom empathized, “But maybe this Felix guy will turn out to be a good friend.”

  “I could see that.” I was surprised that she had dropped her judgment of the idea of a male friend.

  “As long as he’s just a friend?” she added just in time.

  “Yes, Mother,” I said with a quiet smirk. “He’s funny and flirtatious, but not in a way that makes me think he wants to date me or anything.”

  “Want to invite him to sit with us at the game?”

  “Sure, I guess.” Feeling suddenly uninterested in anything since the conversation had taken a decidedly Ace turn, I found it hard to recover.

  “Would ice cream cheer you up?” Mom said in a perky voice, whisking our plates from the table.

  “Always,” I said flatly, smiling at Dad, who winked at me.

  “Any new teachers this year?” Mom asked from the kitchen.

  “Not that I know of. Everyone returned.”

  “That’s rare, huh?”

  “I know, right? Usually, we Saints are pretty good at running people off.”

  Dad laughed, and Mother tried not to in order let me know she didn’t approve of my snarkiness or poking fun at saints.

  “Enough about me, though. How was y’all’s day?”

  We talked about Dad’s client merger and Mom’s book club and new plants she bought at a fundraiser while we ate Rocky Road ice cream—my dad’s favorite, though I prefer mint chip.

  After dessert, I excused myself and got ready for bed, waiting on the time zones to align perfectly for me to be able to Facetime with Carol. I w
as excited to tell her about Felix.

  Before I headed up the stairs, Mom caught up to me.

  “I want to apologize about this morning,” she said. “I realized later that I was anxious about you going back. I’m sorry I was so negative. You looked wonderful. You are wonderful. You’re our brave girl—for many reasons. Okay?”

  I smiled, feeling a bit better. “Thanks, Mom.”

  The next day at school, I saw Felix in our “dark corner,” as he now called it because the last panel of fluorescent lights had already gone out. He gave me his phone number and told me to text him if I wanted to eat outside with him at lunch. I told him I did, but I had to find a way to talk to Nate without getting barraged by the whole team.

  Felix laughed. “Good luck with that.”

  As it turned out, though, I could eat outside, because, in keyboarding, Nate sent me a message and told me to meet him in the gym after school so we could talk about the article. I didn’t like the idea of being alone with him in the gym after school, but I figured the cheerleaders were having practice, which is why he’d chosen that location, so I said it was fine. At lunch, I told Felix about meeting Nate after school, and he asked if he should wait on me again.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, not wanting to abuse his driving status.

  “Yeah. My parents aren’t home till later—plus, from your descriptions, yours seem nicer anyway.” He winked.

  “Oh! That reminds me: my mom wanted me to tell you that you’re welcome to sit with us during the game if you want on Friday.”

  He raised his eyebrows in mock-alarm. “I’m shocked, Avery Brave! You don’t sit in the student section?”

  “You’re probably not shocked, and I don’t peg you for someone who would sit there either,” I jousted back.

  “Too true. Correctly pegged. My parents will be out of town that night anyway. Sounds fun.”

  “Cool.” I nodded as the bell rang. “Well, see you after school then.”

  “See ya.”

  Mr. Knight stopped by my desk after the bell rang as I was loading my bag.

  “This isn’t really my business, but I heard some other girls talking about how they ‘couldn’t believe you would even consider working with Nate after last year’.” He mimicked them gently in a pretend girlish voice. “I know Nate and Ace are friends, right? So, I just wanted to make sure this was all above board, and you were okay.”

  My stomach sank a bit at being the subject of gossip, but I rallied for Mr. Knight. “I appreciate the concern, Mr. Knight. I appreciate the mockery even more. It’s not my favorite, but I can make it work.”

  He nodded and let me pass towards the door.

  “Don’t take crap from anybody, Miss Nightingale,” he said as a last-minute caution that I knew was more than what he was saying.

  “I’ll give hell if they try, sir.” I nodded and gave a slight wave. “See ya tomorrow.”

  He waved back, and I walked out and headed toward the gym.

  Nate was leaning against the back wall on the top bleacher in the basketball gym playing a game on his phone while the cheerleaders tried to impress him below on the court. Nate was one of the most sought-after boys in our school, and it was clear that several of the cheerleaders were trying to get his attention. But it was also obvious he didn’t care that they were there; I had misjudged that part. Maybe he hadn’t chosen this location because of them. I took a deep breath and decided to try and be nice. Maybe it was just a central location.

  “Hey,” I said, sitting down fairly far away from him. Even from a distance, I could tell how tall he was, towering above me even sitting down. Then again, I was only 5’3”, so everyone seemed to tower over me.

  Pulling out a notebook, my phone, and a pen, I set my backpack to the side. I was ready to get this over with, but he was still playing on his phone.

  Be nice, I reminded myself. “So, do you want to just get me some notes on Saturday or Sunday, and I can piece the article together?”

  He looked up from his phone. His deep blue eyes conveyed shock. “You don’t want to actually write it together?”

  “Oh!” I said, almost dropping my pencil. “I just assumed you got roped into doing this and didn’t really have any interest in writing it with me.” Now, I was the one who was befuddled.

  “No,” was all he said as he looked back to his phone.

  I was so confused. This is going nowhere. Knowing what I knew about football and football players, if the team lost, Nate might not actually feel like writing this at all on Saturday or Sunday.

  “Why don’t you just let me know on Saturday what you want to do? You can send me notes, or we can meet somewhere,” I said, offering a solution.

  “Fine. Whatever,” he said, not looking up from his phone.

  I took out a piece of paper and laid it on the bleacher between us. “Here are some leading questions that may help you take mental or actual notes that will help us write the article.”

  Nate’s jaw tightened, and he shot me a glare. “I know how to write a paper, Avery.”

  As he said my name, it had such bite to it, and I hated the way it sounded coming off his tongue. I’d managed to insult him the very first time I had ever talked to him this year. Bravo, Avery Brave. This being nice thing was harder than I’d thought.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it…I was just trying to be helpful,” I said, stuffing my notebook back in my bag as quickly as I could.

  “Whatever. I’ll call you on Saturday.” The irritation was clear in his voice.

  I stood to leave. Then, realizing a problem, I turned back to him. “But you don’t have my number.”

  Looking at me sideways, he raised his eyebrows and fired a low blow. “Yea…but Ace does.”

  I seethed. Oh! You’re going to bring him into this? That’s it, I’m done being nice. I glared at him and let the gym door slam behind me. The heavy door boomed and echoed throughout the now-empty school. I felt satisfied even though a door slamming did not teach Nate a lesson in any way.

  I stormed all the way to the front of the building, where I knew Felix would be waiting, thinking of fiery comebacks I should have, could have said to put Nate Reinhart in his place.

  Then, I stopped, dropping my backpack on the floor and pacing back and forth, feeling angry. Why did he even have to bring him up?! Did he agree to do this article just to mess with me? How am I supposed to do this, God? I half-thought, half-prayed forcefully with my hands on my temples. Sabotage.

  I finally picked up my bag again, feeling calmer, and headed toward the front doors. I slowed as I walked by the front office. The semi-circle had open offices in the front and closed offices in the back for Principal Sands and the assistant principal, Mr. Hickham. While their offices had doors, the back walls that faced the western hallway were entirely made of glass. The panes looked like blocks of ice so that you couldn’t really see in, but it gave both parties the illusion of transparency.

  All the lights were off except a desk lamp. There were two people in Mr. Hickham’s office, though I couldn’t see who. One was taller, and one was about my height but slightly taller. Either they were talking very closely or they were kissing.

  No one should be kissing in the school after hours! Or during hours, for that matter. That sort of behavior is not allowed on campus. That’s more public school behavior, I joked to myself. And it was in Mr. Hickham’s office! So…, I thought, who could be kissing in there?? Maybe his wife stopped by? I don’t think he’s married. Maybe it’s just some kids messing around and pulling pranks?

  As I was trying to concoct a scenario in which I could waltz in, pretending to have a question to ask, and catch them in the act, I heard a hushed and seductive voice. “Mr. Hickham…”

  I didn’t need to hear the rest. The tone of her voice and the way she said “Mr.” told me all I needed. It was a student! I ran out the front doors and practically knocked Felix to the ground where he was posted up on one of the entrance pillars. He steadied himsel
f and caught me by the shoulders.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, as if I was crazy. “Are you running away from Nate?” he laughed.

  “No. I mean, at first, I was storming out, yes. But then….” I caught my breath. “I just saw something in Mr. Hickham’s office!”

  Felix’s eyes lit up. “Pray tell, Nancy Drew!” he mocked with a face full of fake excitement.

  “Stop. I’m being serious. At first, I couldn’t tell who was in there. But then I heard a girl say, ‘Mr. Hickham’.…”

  “A girl?”

  “I was running back from the gym when I slowed by Mr. Hickham’s office.” I paused, starting to pace in little steps, each time turning in my heel. “It looked through the glass like someone was embracing, kissing even. Then, I heard a voice say, ‘Mr. Hickham’.” I imitated the sultry way she had said the name.

  “Ew. Don’t do that,” he joked.

  “Her voice sounded like mine. It wasn’t an adult. It was definitely a girl. A student, maybe.”

  “A student is in there with Mr. Hickham?! In a school-business kind of way or…something else?”

  “I just did the voice, didn’t I? Yes. In a comprisatory way.”

  Felix blinked. “I don’t think you did that right.”

  “Did what?” I said, feeling a little disoriented.

  “I think you mean ‘compromising way.’ But listen, you can’t just go around accusing people of stuff like that. You have to be sure.”

  “I know. And I’m not sure. I sort of panicked and ran out,” I said, imitating and flapping my arms nervously.

  “And now, I’m up to speed.”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. What a turn of events, eh?”

  “I know. What should we do? Should I go back in there?” I bit my nails, starting back toward the door, feeling both excited from the rush of adrenaline and scared at having witnessed, however indirect, a crime.

  “First, you need to calm down, because you’re acting like a squirrel,” Felix said, grabbing me by the shoulders to stop me from going back in.

  “Sorry. I get excited. And I feel…like I need to figure this out. If this is at all what I think it is, I have to figure it out.”