After school, I have Budge make a pit stop at Pancho’s Mexican Villa. “I’ll be right back,” I say.
A “Can I have a taco?” Robbie starts to bail out too.
“No. They stunt your growth.” And I shut the door.
I plow toward the door and fling it open. “Welcome to Pancho’s Mexican Villa!” a girl chirps. Her smile is nearly wider than her face.
Wow. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” she beams. “First day!”
Tomorrow she’ll sound like the other zombies.
I bypass her gleaming counter and hang a right to Manny’s office.
At my knock he wrenches it open. “What do you wa—” His hand goes to his largest gold chain. “What can I do for you?”
“Um . . . I just wanted to apologize for losing my cool and starting a food fight.”
“How sorry?”
“This much?” I hold out my hands the width of a taco.
Manny chews on a toothpick. “Do you want your job back by chance?”
Let me think about this. “No.”
“Look, two kids just quit, and I’m in deep trouble with spring break coming on. You could just work that week for me and then see how it goes.”
Well, gee, at one point I had plans to go to Manhattan, but . . . “I could be persuaded.”
He smiles, his gold caps gleaming. “I’ll up your hourly wage by a dollar.”
Not bad, but I have a car to fix now. “Can I have a two hundred– dollar advance?”
His eyes pop. “What?”
“I’ll mention Pancho’s in my next newspaper article.”
“It’s a deal. But I’m hiding the refried bean shooter.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
When Budge pulls the car into our driveway, we’re singing three-part screamo harmony. Life is pretty good, and Robbie is back to being Robbie.
“I’m off to watch a documentary on the Japanese dung beetle.” He skips into the yard, a red cape fluttering behind him.
My phone vibrates in my purse, and I scrounge for it. “Hey, Luke.”
“How fast can you get back to school?”
“Five minutes. What’s up?”
“Meet me in the school office. And bring Budge with you.” The line goes dead.
“Budge, can you take me back to school?”
He rubs a smudge on the hearse. “No way, freak job.”
Yes, we are definitely back to normal. “Two words: Hannah. Montana.”
“Let’s roll.”
The twin doors leading into the high school are open, and we walk on through straight to the office.
“Hello?” I call.
“Back here.” Luke steps out from the secretary’s office. “We have a new development.”
Mrs. Norwood sits behind her desk, her face illuminated by the computer screen. “Yes, the grades have definitely been altered. But just for those four.”
Luke looks from me to Budge. “This afternoon someone got on the school server and changed some grades. Felicity, Anna, and Ruthie all suddenly had one F each.”
“And the fourth person?” I ask.
The secretary taps a few keys. “Let’s just say Joshua Day went from academic distress straight to the honor roll.”
Budge nods his head. “Niiice.”
“Does the grading program tell you what time the grades were changed?” I step over to the computer. Mrs. Norwood’s Avon perfume overrides any chances of my sniffing Luke. Plus I think it’s killing some of my brain cells.
“Yes.” She pulls up another screen. “This person would have to have special access—like administrative codes—to change these grades. Even a teacher’s password wouldn’t allow for editing a student’s grades in all classes.”
“What do you need from me?” Budge asks, primed to dig into high-security files.
“All of our tech crew are at a conference.” Mrs. Norwood chews on her lip. “I guess I can let you into the grade program. Budge, I need you to tell me who was logged on between one and one thirty.”
Luke and I take a seat on the floor. My back rests against the wall in the small office.
“Thanks for calling me.” I twirl Budge’s car keys in my hand.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave me out of the fun.”
“I think we’re about to solve another one.” He holds up his hand, and I slap mine to it. “Bella, did I mention Taylor and I broke up?”
A giddy thrill spirals through my body. “When?”
“Christmas.”
The thrill swan-dives. “As in December?”
“We’re still friends.”
“But we’re friends too. So why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just—”
“We got it!” Budge yells. “Take a look. Check out this list of people who were logged on,” Budge says as we gather around him. He reads off a list of twenty names. All teachers. But two secretaries. And one student.
I stare at the name. “Joshua Day.”