Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I rub my forehead in annoyance. “Yes. Maybe that will help. Remind me what happened between you two again? Start at the beginning. I know you were obsessed with him.”
“Yes, for years, and then we went out on that one date—”
“You only went out ONCE?!”
“Let me finish, will you?” She sounds exasperated (which makes two of us). “The first date was so sweet. We studied together in the library during lunch.”
Oh my god.
I feel the color drain from my face.
“Kendra,” I say slowly. “Did Sawyer know this was a date?”
“How could he not?! He let me borrow his pencil and highlighter. He helped me figure out this really tricky math problem and he leaned in so close while he did it. We almost kissed. It was so romantic.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“And! And he walked me to class afterward.” She says this like it’s totally damning, the closing argument of The People vs. Sawyer Garnett.
“I remember. That was the day Mr. Garcel gave us both detention. You told me Sawyer asked you out.”
“No. I said he was going to ask me out.”
Is this true? Have I remembered it all wrong?
“But that’s when things took a turn.” She goes on, “After that day we studied together in the library, I followed him around school for a week straight, but he wouldn’t even give me the time of day. He acted like I didn’t exist. I overheard him saying, ‘Some freshman left a mixed CD in my locker,’ and then he gave it to Hunter! Like it meant nothing!”
“What did you expect him to do, Kendra?”
“Fall madly in love with me, of course! TO ME it was a date, okay?! That’s all that matters. I loved him—”
I roll my eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“Okay, but I thought he was very hot, and to a teenager, that feels a lot like love.”
Truly this is so ridiculous I can’t help but laugh. “What does Jeff think about all this? Does he even know about this stupid plan you concocted?”
“Yes. He’s right here on the couch listening to us. Thinks it’s hilarious. Oh now he’s telling me to hurry it up. We recorded an episode of Dateline. It looks so good. It’s about this woman who disappears near the Everglades. Authorities assume it was a crocodile that got her but apparently—”
“Great. Listen—it ends, right now. I’m not doing your dirty work anymore. This Take Sawyer Down mission is officially over.”
“Oh fine. You’re no fun.”
“Enjoy your Dateline.”
“Enjoy your…whatever it is you’re doing.”
I hang up, look down at my phone, and feel so much relief I could cry. I, Madison McCall, am no one’s vigilante hero. I can go back into the dining room and finish dinner with Sawyer with a clear conscience.
Then I hear a toilet flush.
“Dang it,” the woman hisses quietly, like she’s annoyed she triggered the automatic toilet, like she was trying to be stealthy…
Oh god.
I panic and bend down to peer into the next stall to see a person wearing pink ballet flats. Those shoes and her nondescript calves are all I see, but they’re enough to almost give me a heart attack.
I’m not alone in here like I thought I was.
Whoever is standing there has heard my entire phone call.
CHAPTER 8
Obviously, I flee the bathroom as quickly as possible. Ms. Pink Ballet Flats doesn’t follow right away. In fact, I can’t tell when she leaves the bathroom because our table is positioned at an odd angle and I don’t have a clear view of the hallway. Even if I lean back in my chair—which I do, almost tipping over in the process—it’s hopeless. I have no way of identifying the mystery woman.
I tell myself it’s not that big of a deal. From what I remember, I didn’t say anything that damning, just espionage talk concerning a secret takedown plan. I’m sure a lot of people chatter away about that stuff while they’re in restaurant bathrooms. Nothing to sweat about.
Still, I can’t leave it up to chance. While Sawyer is caught up in browsing the dessert menu, I glance around the restaurant, cataloguing any faces that jump out at me. My hope that most of the patrons are strangers is sadly not fulfilled.
Dr. Villanueva—my old orthodontist—and her husband are a few tables over. Across the restaurant, Laura Pearson and Pamela Brown are enjoying a bottle of wine and appetizers with Stacey Wolfe and Paulette Dougherty. All four women are in my mom’s book club. Any of them might be the proud owner of pink flats.
The Boyds are on a double date with the Langs. They wave when they see me looking in their direction, and I wave back quickly before turning back to face Sawyer. There’s no need to continue the search; it’s not looking good for me.
“Think we’ll have room for chocolate mousse?” Sawyer asks, dropping the menu and making me jump.