I evade the mindless look, not stopping.
“And she still doesn’t consider herself a Casper.” Chuckling out the words at my back.
I roll my eyes.
twenty-six
Rory
“Hey,wait!”
I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s my best friend. Hailey’s voice a hard one to miss, it’s so boisterous.
“No, not you, I don’t evenknowyou.” She scoffs, shoving past some dude who’s lingering by his locker.
I fight a grin. Her bluntness at times has no mercy.
“For someone so popular, you are one hard lady to track down,” she puffs out. Following in step.
“What’s up?”
“Dang,” she asserts. Looking around at the same thing I am. “Looks like your stunt earlier finally knocked Madison down a peg. The hallways are spotless.”
By spotless, she means Madison’s nasty bracket things are gone. Not a neon sheet of paper in sight.
Even the trophy case is back to its former shiny prize-and-plaque glory.
Strange how fast things can get done with a little pressure and influence.
“Have I mentioned that you’re my hero because if I haven’t, you are?” She says with a dreamy-like wonder in her sigh.
I brush off her compliment. I didn’t do anything but bring attention to what was going on. What happened after that is on everyone else.
“You wanted something?” I ask, steering us back on track.
“Oh, right,” she replies. “Know how you told me about that book? The one Lorna wants and thinks is hers. You said it wasn’t then got in a fight with Cole. You ran away. Went Missing. The boys popped back up at your old job. You asked that lady you used to work with about it to be sure and—”
“—Alright I get it. I get it.” I chuckle. I don’t need a recap. I was there. I know what happened. “Get on with it.”
“Anyhoo, so last night my parents got to talking about a former client. Said the old man died a widower and didn’t have any other family.”
“Okkkay, what are you getting at?”
“This,” she says, handing me a business card.
I flip it over, not recognizing the name or the number. “Should I know what this is?”
“Probs not, unless you’re psychic.” I arch a puzzled brow and Hailey scoffs. “What I’m trying to tell you is if you’re still curious, I think this person can help. He helped my parents.”
Before I can open my mouth to ask how she’s already answering for me.
“The guy is some rare book appraiser. Helped them figure out if they were worth anything and could be a selling feature for the house.” She clarifies, “They were, by the way.”
“The point?”
She hikes up her bag on her shoulder.
“Mypointis…” she says, enunciating her tone to be dramatic because I keep interrupting. Something I wouldn’t have to do if she’d get on with it already. “I thought he might be able to help you, too.”