Chapter Four

Part 3

“See you tomorrow!” I said to David as I left his room later that night. Danielle had already bailed an hour ago to get some studying done, and Christian had never returned. David had theorized that his roomie was in the ancient-history section of the library, tearing his hair out over his video game.

I’d spent the last hour chatting with David about Star Wars (he knows everything), school and his social life—or lack thereof. Like Danielle, David seemed to be a bit of an outcast, which was probably why they clung to each other’s side. Even though David was such a gregarious guy around Danielle and me, I wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t rolling in friends. He was suspicious of everyone around him, and that could be a bit off-putting. I had a feeling the only reason he trusted me so much was because he was attracted to me—which only made me feel all the more compunction for messing with his head.

I sighed and trudged down the hall. This undercover gig was tough on the conscience.

As I rounded the corner toward the stairs I slammed right into someone and had to hold onto the wall to catch my balance. Imagine my shock when I realized I was looking down at the battered boots of none other than Jon Wisnewski.

“Sorry,” I said, looking up into his deep green eyes.

He held my gaze for a split second, then sidestepped around me and yanked his keys out of his pocket.

“I guess I’m kind of a klutz tonight,” I said, attempting to get him to respond. Nothing. I stared at his back as he worked the lock on room 225.

Sheesh. Give a girl a break.

Say something! You know about him now! Mention the drums! Or snowboarding!

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t supposed to know that stuff about him, and if I just blurted it out he was definitely going to think it was absurd.

“Uh—”

But it was too late. Jon slipped into his room and shut the door in my face.

“I guess Hereford doesn’t have a class in courtesy,” I muttered, turning away.

At that point it was easy to surmise that earning Jon’s trust was going to be the most arduous part of my job. I was going to have to get creative with that one. But I could ponder that later, in bed, where I did my best thinking. (I always keep a pad by my bed to jot down my middle-of-the-night brainstorms, and last semester I’d written an entire paper between the hours of 2 and 5 a.m. My roommate, Cathy, had been slightly perturbed.) For now I had to get to my dorm, grab my cell and find a quiet spot from which to call my mom. She would worry if I didn’t check in soon.

“Ms. Sharpe!”

Headmaster Cox’s barrel of a chest greeted me at the bottom of the stairs. How did someone with such brawn end up being a headmaster? Shouldn’t he be chopping logs somewhere?

“Headmaster Cox!” I shot back, mimicking his emphasis.

His jaw clenched at my irreverence. “It is after 10 p.m.”

This meant nothing to me, so I just stared back at him.

“Female students are not allowed in the boys’ dormitory past 10 p.m. and vice versa,” he told me. “While you are a student here I expect you to follow the rules of our institution.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Of course,” I said. “No problem.”

Then I walked around him and sauntered down the hallway, trying to show him how little an effect he had on me.

What is that guy’s deal? I wondered. Doesn’t he want me to solve this case?