I arrived at work ten minutes late. Gia was in mid-pitch to a customer in a midnight-blue cocktail dress.
“Now, Vicki, Bellarosa Boutique is a proud member of the International Formalwear Association,” she boasted. “We stand by our No Repeat Dress Guarantee…”
This girl Vicki was getting a major head start on homecoming. Even in my dazed state, I knew three-quarter-sleeved stretch velvet with a multitiered ruffle skirt was not a summer style. I didn’t know who this girl was, but I envied her for setting her sights on such a trivial, easily achieved goal.
“Cassie!”
I expected Gia to chew me out for my tardiness. Late again? Really, Cassie? You’re worse than No-Good Crystal! Instead, she rushed over and pressed me to her bosom. That was when I should’ve figured out that I was even worse off than I thought.
“It’s gonna be okay, hon,” Gia said, stroking my hair.
“How—?”
My question was interrupted by the girl in the dress. With her asymmetrical haircut and mix of silver hoops and diamond studs in both ears, I suddenly recognized Vicki as the Piercing Pagoda’s lone employee.
“Toothy!”
Toothy? I had no idea what it meant, but Gia did. Her head nearly snapped off her neck.
“I will not tolerate disrespect in my store!”
Toothy.
My Odyssey of the Mind word association skills automatically kicked in.
Toothy.
Teeth.
Dental.
Dentists.
Parents.
Did everyone find out about Frank and Kathy before I did?
“You can forget all about that dress,” Gia said to her customer. “I just remembered I promised it to someone else.”
“Wha—?” Vicki was on the verge of tears.
Drea arrived on the scene.
“Let’s talk!”
She pressed her nails into my upper arm and pulled me into the office. In the bright light of day, it seemed like an unlikely spot for an assignation. It felt like a million years had passed since Slade and I rolled around on that couch. As disappointing as our hookup was, I’d have gone back to that time of blissful ignorance in a heartbeat.
Drea eyed the couch, then me.
“You’re taking this worse than I thought you would,” she said. “You look terrible.”
“How do you expect me to take this? Life as I know it is over!” I supported myself against the desk. “And how does everyone already know when I just found out myself?”
“Word gets around,” Drea said. “Look, it’s not that tragic. Take it from me.”
“It’s totally different.”
Drea’s parents split up when she was just a toddler. She had her whole life to get used to D-I-V-O-R-C-E. I couldn’t even say the word in my head.
Drea tipped back her head and laughed.
“Name one person at Pineville High who’s had more rumors spread about their sexual exploits than me!”
This was true. But I didn’t see how gossip about Drea’s alleged sluttiness had anything to do with my parents’ divorce. Unless …
“Wait … People know about my parents’ sexual exploits?”
“Your parents?” Drea recoiled. “Ewwwww! No!”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“You!” Drea looked at me like I was a simpleton. “And Slade!”
“Me and Slade?”
“Of course, you and Slade! What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about my parents’ separation!”
“What?!”
“My dad already has an apartment and is moving out!” Yelling hurt more than it ever had under Dr. Baumann’s care. “My parents are splitting up!”
Drea immediately softened.
“Oh, Cassie. I’m so sorry. I had no idea!”
“Neither did I,” I croaked. “They just told me on the drive over here.”
Drea filled a plastic cup from the water cooler and placed it in my shaking hands. I drank greedily, swallowing down the rawness in my throat.
“But your parents are so good together.” Drea shook her head in disbelief. “Braces make happy faces!”
“Well, I guess they don’t make happy marriages.”
Drea hopped up next to me on the desk. “They’re really getting a divorce?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. I fled the scene before I got the details.”
We sat in silence. Me, perfectly still. Drea, swinging her legs back and forth. I couldn’t wear any but the thickest tights without getting runs. But Drea’s hosiery was of the sheerest denier.
“So, if you didn’t know about my parents,” I said, “what did you think I was so upset about?”
If I hadn’t been watching carefully, I wouldn’t have caught the grimace Drea forced into a grin.
“I think it’s funny, actually!” she said brightly. “It’s not a big deal.”
“What’s not a big deal?”
“Slade went back to the Cabbage Patch after you hooked up,” she said. “He told everyone…”
“Told everyone what? That we barely went past second base?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“He told them,” she said, “that you almost bit off a chunk of his junk.”
I seriously thought I might puke again.
“This isn’t funny, Drea!” I lowered myself to the floor and locked the trash can between my knees. “So, not only does the entire mall think I’m a slut, they think I’m an inept slut!”
Drea laughed because she thought I was joking. But I wasn’t.
“You really need to see the upside of this situation,” Drea said. “Until now, you weren’t hot enough to be someone worth gossiping about…”
I couldn’t believe what Drea was saying. That only now was I worthy of horrible rumors? That I was too much of a loser throughout high school to even register?
“You are so rude!”
I heaved the trash can at the wall. Drea shrieked in shock.
“Oh my Gawd, Cassie. You could’ve killed me!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t aim for your face!”
This was why Drea and I had stopped being friends in seventh grade. Not because she got boobs when I did not. Or a boyfriend when I did not. Or bad grades when I did not.
It was because she made me feel hopelessly …
Loserish.
And I was tired of being around someone who made me feel that way.
Then.
And.
Now.
“Come on, Cassie, lighten up!”
I grabbed a stapler and held it up menacingly.
“Get out!”
Drea’s eyes widened, and she backed out the door. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t bother me for the rest of my day.
Four hours later, the door creaked open and the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted inside.
“A peace offering!”
I didn’t know if I was still suffering from a post-mononucleosian calorie deficit or what. But I went straight to full drool at the inimitable scent of melted butter, caramelized sugar, warm dough, and—of course—cinnamon. I had to give her credit. Not only had Drea paid extra for the Pecanbon, but she had gone out of her way to present this thousand-calorie bomb on a real plate with a cloth napkin.
This wasn’t a peace offering at all. This was a weapon of warfare.
She set it down on my desk and stepped back with a flourish.
“Cinnabon appetit!”
I could tell by the way the icing dripped across the swirls and down the curves that the pastry was still warm. Drea was not fighting fair.
“If you think you can bribe me with Cinnabon, you are sorely mistaken,” I said.
Then I threw the whole thing—plate and all—into the same trash can I had hurled against the wall.
“Well,” Drea said, dropping her smile. “That’s a waste.”
“I’m done with this stupid treasure hunt.”
“But why?” Drea asked. “We’re getting close, I can feel it—”
“I don’t care! I only care about lying low and making as much money as I can before getting the hell out of here.”
I’d been stewing all morning. I wanted to quit so badly, but even in my outrage, I knew the money was too good to give up. Gia was paying me seven dollars an hour—a whopping $2.75 more than the minimum wage I would’ve gotten at America’s Best Cookie. The odds of me finding another job this late in the season that paid nearly as much were nonexistent. Bellarosa was my final pit stop in Pineville en route to my real life in New York City. And now that my family had fallen apart, I had even fewer reasons to look back once I got there.
“Please leave this office,” I said, trying to resume an air of professionalism. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Aren’t you even the least bit curious about the next clue?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not helping you anymore. I’m done.”
I resolved to do what I should’ve done from the start: Focus on the job and forget everything else.
No more treasure hunt.
No more Cabbage Patch.
No more Drea Bellarosa.
“Come on, Cassie,” Drea implored.
“I mean it!” I said. “I want those dolls out of here. They’re creepy.”
“They are not creepy,” she said, tickling Rey Ajedrez under the chin. “They’re cute.”
“I don’t like them staring at me from the couch like that,” I said. “With their arms out, begging for hugs.”
“Where should I put them, then?” Drea asked.
“They’re just dolls!” I shouted. “What are you, ten years old?”
Drea’s eyes narrowed. All I could see was mascara, liner, and more mascara.
“You want to be a bitch? You get rid of them!”
She walked away with the confidence of someone who knew I would do absolutely no such thing. There was no way I could toss Rey Ajedrez, Lustig Zeit, Pieds D’Abord, and the new baby into the trash. Maybe I was a bitch. But I wasn’t a monster. Emboldened by her success, Drea turned sharply at the exit to deliver her parting shot.
“Silva Mundi!”
The preemie’s name—the next clue—lodged itself deep in my brain. When Drea Bellarosa took aim, she did not miss.