While Cassidy waited for Emma to meet her in the counseling center after school, she texted and called Devon, but without any luck. Apparently Devon was still playing hard to get.
“Sorry I’m late,” Emma said as she hurried into the waiting area.
“It’s okay. Someone’s in there with Mrs. Dorman anyway.” Cassidy held up her phone. “Do you think Devon is really sick? Or just ignoring me?”
“She’s ignoring me too.”
“I’m guessing that means she still hasn’t found the flash drive.” Cassidy scowled. “This will be an uphill battle without it.”
“I know how to get her.” Emma reached for her own phone. “I’ll call my grandma on the landline.”
Cassidy went over her notes for their meeting as Emma talked to her grandmother. When Emma hung up, Cassidy could tell that she’d gotten nowhere. “Grandma says she’s sleeping, and it seems she really does have laryngitis.”
“Probably from all that coughing at Tristin’s.” Cassidy folded the paper with her notes in half. “But Devon saw the photos on Tristin’s computer. That makes her a witness. Even without the drive, we can get her in here to talk to Mrs. Dorman as soon as she’s well.”
Emma pointed toward Mrs. Dorman’s office where the door was opening. A man and woman were thanking Mrs. Dorman, shaking her hand, and leaving. “Looks like we’re next,” Emma said quietly.
“Ready for this?” Cassidy whispered.
Emma just nodded and Cassidy led the way.
“Come in, girls.” Mrs. Dorman smiled as she closed the door behind them. “I understand this is about Felicia Ruez.”
“That’s right,” Cassidy began as soon as they were seated. “We have good reason to believe that Felicia was set up. She never created that MyPlace page, and she’s been bullied.”
Mrs. Dorman’s dark brows arched. “That’s quite a list. Do you have any evidence? Or is this all just speculative?”
“We have some evidence.” Cassidy turned on her iPad. “Felicia gave me her password so I could open her email and show you the messages that were sent to her the past couple of months. It’s obvious that she’s been bullied.” Cassidy opened an email and slid it over for Mrs. Dorman to read.
“This is very concerning.” Mrs. Dorman removed her reading glasses. “But who sent it? Who’s TwistiGirl?”
“Tristin Wilson.” Cassidy opened another email.
“Really?” Mrs. Dorman looked shocked. “You know this for a fact?”
“It’s easy to prove,” Emma explained. “Even if Tristin has closed the email account, which I’m guessing she’s done, it’s all traceable.”
Cassidy slid her iPad across the desk again. “Here’s another one. Felicia saved ten or so. She dumped some of the earlier ones before she realized she should save them.”
“If this really is Tristin’s account, it does appear to be bullying.” Mrs. Dorman peered at Cassidy and Emma. “But you also said Felicia didn’t create that MyPlace page. Can you prove that too?”
“We thought we had evidence last night.” Cassidy quickly told the story about Devon and the flash drive, and Mrs. Dorman looked even more shocked.
“Where is this flash drive?” she asked.
“Devon seems to have lost it,” Emma said sadly.
“However, Devon did see the photos on Tristin’s computer. That would make her an eyewitness.” Cassidy explained about Devon’s laryngitis. “I’m sure we can get her to come in and talk to you . . . when she’s able to actually talk.”
“Interesting . . .”
“We’re certain that Tristin has destroyed the photo evidence by now,” Emma added.
“If someone had just downloaded the MyPlace page.” Cassidy shook her head. “That would be evidence in itself.”
“Yes, that’s a point that’s been made by a number of people,” Mrs. Dorman admitted. “A good lesson for everyone.”
“Can you see how wrong this is?” Cassidy asked. “To expel Felicia when she’s actually the victim here?”
“What about Felicia’s recent changes in her clothing?” Mrs. Dorman said suddenly. “She faced disciplinary action for inappropriate dress. It seemed to substantiate the MyPlace page. How do you explain that?”
Both Cassidy and Emma took turns telling Mrs. Dorman about how Felicia had gotten teased for wearing childish outfits. “Her mom made her dress like that,” Emma said as Cassidy pulled up another email. “It made her look like a little girl. Felicia took matters into her own hands.” Emma told about how Felicia snuck what she thought were more sophisticated clothes to school. “And she dressed in the restroom.”
“Look at this.” Cassidy slid the iPad over again. “See where Tristin is calling her Baby Girl and Chiquita Slut and a bunch of other names all related to Felicia’s ethnicity as well as how she was dressed.”
“This isn’t just bullying. That’s racist too.” Mrs. Dorman grimly shook her head. “Something we want to nip in the bud. If you girls are right—if this is from a Northwood student—something will be done immediately to rectify it.”
“Good.” Cassidy closed her iPad. “Because I know Felicia’s dad has considered hiring an attorney.”
Mrs. Dorman pressed her lips together.
“We wouldn’t want to see our school portrayed as racist,” Cassidy said somberly. “I’m sure the media would love to make it into something more than it is.”
“Has anyone spoken to the media about any of this?” Mrs. Dorman looked worried.
“Not yet.”
“Well, I plan to go directly to Mr. Worthington with this new information.” She looked down at the iPad. “Do you mind if I borrow this? To show him?”
“Sure.” Cassidy nodded.
“We’ll talk to Devon and see if she’s going to be in school tomorrow,” Emma told her. “So she can tell you about what she saw.”
“Or maybe she’s found the drive,” Cassidy said hopefully.
“We might even go look around the neighborhood where it could’ve gotten lost,” Emma said.
Mrs. Dorman stood. “You girls are being very good friends to poor Felicia. I’m sure she must appreciate it.”
“It seemed the least we could do,” Emma said.
“If you see Felicia, please tell her that we’re working on this. Tell her that we do want the truth to come out. If she’s been the victim—as it appears she has—we will do everything possible to make things right with her.” Mrs. Dorman shook both their hands. “Thank you for coming forward for her like this. Tell Felicia that we’ll be in touch soon. Very soon.”
They were barely out of the counseling center when Emma called Felicia to tell her the good news. “Well, it’s good news for the most part.” Emma explained about the missing flash drive. “But we’re going to look for it, and we still have Devon’s eyewitness account. Mrs. Dorman said they’ll take that into consideration too.”
By the time Emma ended her conversation with Felicia, they were at the car. “I think we should go talk to Devon first,” Cassidy said as she started the car. “Make sure she doesn’t have the drive. We can look around the house too. Then, if we don’t find it, we’ll go back to Tristin’s neighborhood and look around.”
“Hopefully we won’t run into Tristin.”
“Speaking of Tristin . . .” Cassidy frowned. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she was acting totally normal today? Like nothing was wrong? You’d think she’d be a little nervous, wouldn’t you?”
“You’d think. Maybe she’s just playing it cool. Besides, she probably figured out early on that Devon was absent. Maybe she thinks that’s buying her time, or maybe she’s been covering her trail so well that she thinks she can’t get caught.”
Cassidy hit her fist into the steering wheel. “Or maybe she found the drive!”
“Oh no!” Emma slapped her forehead. “I’ll bet you’re right.”
“It makes perfect sense. If Tristin found the drive, she’d be feeling pretty confident right now.”
“Although she must still be seriously ticked at Devon for last night. Do you think that’s why Devon is laying low today?”
“I don’t know. But laryngitis or not, Devon is going to do some talking,” Cassidy declared.
Because it was her grandmother’s house, Emma led them inside without even knocking. “Grandma,” she called out. “It’s just me.”
“Oh, hello dear.” Emma’s grandmother hugged her. “And Cassidy too. Are you girls here to see me? Or checking on Devon?”
“Both,” Emma told her. “How are you?”
“Just fine. I think our patient is on the mend too.”
“Good.” Emma glanced down the hallway. “Can we visit her?”
“You know the way.”
They discovered Devon sitting in bed, watching a movie on her laptop. “Enjoying your little vacation?” Cassidy asked.
Devon rolled her eyes and shut down the laptop. “What do you guys want?” she said in a raspy voice.
“What do you think we want?” Emma sat down on the bed.
“I don’t have it.” Devon folded her arms in front of her.
“Then we’ll look around for it,” Cassidy said in a friendly tone. Strolling around the room, she peeked in the closet and under the bed and into dark corners. “Being that you’ve been under the weather, it’s possible that you dropped it in here someplace and—”
“You don’t have to do that,” Devon snapped.
“We want to.” Emma was poking around the quilt and under the pillows.
“Knock it off,” Devon complained.
“We have to find it,” Cassidy told her. “It’s the one thing that will totally clear Felicia’s—”
“I don’t have it!”
“Could you have dropped it near Tristin’s house?” Cassidy asked. “Do you think she might’ve found it?”
Now Emma told Devon about how confident Tristin had seemed today. “Not at all like the guilty criminal who was about to be exposed.”
Devon just shrugged, reaching for her laptop again.
“When was the last time you saw the flash drive?” Cassidy asked. “Did you have it when you got in the car last night?”
“I can’t remember.”
“When did you realize you’d lost it?” Emma asked.
“I don’t recall.” Devon started watching the movie again.
“What color is the drive?” Cassidy asked. “That might help us to spot it if it’s on the ground.”
“Purple.” Devon made an exasperated sigh. “Really, if I’m going to recover my voice, I’m supposed to keep quiet. That’s what Grandma Betty told me.”
Cassidy looked at Emma. “Well, it’s probably not here anyway. Want to go over to Lakewood and poke around?”
“Good luck if you run into Tristin,” Devon growled at them.
“Get well,” Cassidy told her. “You need to be able to talk because we promised Mrs. Dorman that you’d be an eyewitness and—”
“You what?” Devon glared at Cassidy.
“We told her you saw the photos on Tristin’s computer,” Emma explained. “That makes you an eyewitness, Devon. Your testimony is almost as good as the flash drive.”
“Come on,” Cassidy urged Emma. “Let’s get going while it’s still light enough to see something.”
It wasn’t until they were in the car that Cassidy confessed her concerns about Devon. “I feel like she’s holding back on us. I mean, last night, she was all forthcoming and excited about getting that evidence. Now it’s like . . . well . . .”
“Like she doesn’t care.”
“Exactly.”
“So aggravating.”
“You know what else is aggravating?” Emma said in a slightly defeated tone. “We should be at home right now—working on our Santa sleigh. We have three days to get it done in time for Friday’s assembly.”
“That’s true, but don’t forget midterms. We really should be home studying right now.” Cassidy turned into Lakewood. “Here’s what we’ll do, Em. I’ll park right where we picked up Devon last night and we’ll split up and give ourselves fifteen minutes to look around. Okay?”
“Okay. Chances are that Tristin already found it anyway.”
“Probably. But for Felicia’s sake we need to do this.”
“And if we see Tristin?” Emma sounded worried.
“Keep your phone handy.”
As it turned out they spent more like thirty minutes searching for the mysterious missing flash drive. They found a pop can, gum wrapper, tennis ball, and a little pink mitten—but no purple drive. At least they never ran into Tristin. Eventually, admitting that the light was fading, they both agreed it was a fool’s errand and time to go home.
Neither of them said a word as Cassidy started the car and slowly drove out of Tristin’s neighborhood. “We shouldn’t feel like we failed,” she finally said as she turned onto Emma’s street. “After all, we had a great meeting with Mrs. Dorman this afternoon. Even without the flash drive, it seems certain that Felicia will be vindicated.”
“Yeah. That’s great, but I was just thinking about Devon . . . the way she reacted when you told her about needing to be an eyewitness.”
“That was kinda strange.”
“It makes me think about what Bryn was saying earlier, asking if we totally trusted Devon.”
“You know Devon better than any of us. Do you trust her . . . completely?” Cassidy pulled into the driveway, then turned to look at Emma.
“No way. Not completely.”
“Do you think she’s been honest with us in regard to the situation with Felicia and wanting to help out?”
“I’m not sure. I thought so at first, but something about how she was acting this afternoon just doesn’t ring true. She’s holding back about something. I can’t tell what it is though.”
“I know.” Cassidy nodded.
“Well, I better get to work.”
“Sorry I can’t help with the sleigh tonight, Em. I’ve got a ton of reading to do, but I’ll try to work on it with you tomorrow—if you want.”
“That’s probably better anyway. I’ll have everything ready by then. And I can put you to work.” Emma got out and, closing the door, waved.
As Cassidy drove toward home, she still felt a keen sense of disappointment. Like things hadn’t really worked out how she’d planned. She just hoped that today’s faux pas wouldn’t reflect badly on Felicia. Mrs. Dorman seemed relatively convinced of Felicia’s evidence—what little there was of it. But would there be enough to clearly indict Tristin? Or was it possible that, like Bryn seemed to believe, Tristin wasn’t even involved? As Cassidy parked in front of her house, she realized that her best solution to all of this was probably to just pray. Let God sort it out.