I SAT IN THE CAR long after my mother went inside. I hadn’t a clue what I felt. Being out of practice in the emotion department, I didn’t know how to make sense of it all.
The first person I saw when I entered the house was Janice, and I understood then what I was going to do.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her sleeve and tugging her from the room.
“Where are we going?”
“To the high school.”
My sister-in-law gave me a worried look. “What for?”
“We’re going in for the dress.”
“You’re joking.”
“Surprisingly, I’m not. But if India really took the gown, she can’t get away with it.”
“This is insane. We can’t go to the high school.”
I gave her a look. “You want the dress, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I’m calling around. Surely someone in the whole state of Texas has that dress.”
“And how is that going?”
She growled. “No one can find another one.”
“So, Mom, what are you going to do about it?”
“Oh, man,” she groaned, but allowed herself to be pulled upstairs where I enlisted Savannah’s help.
“Make us look like teenagers.”
“Good Lord, I’m talented but not a miracle worker,” Savannah said, giving Janice’s thirty-seven-year-old gauze-and-muslin-clad form a once-over.
Despite that, she did a remarkable job, I thought, using a combination of makeup, clothes inappropriately borrowed from Morgan’s closet, and some old Halloween costume paraphernalia.
Once decked out as “teenagers,” Janice and I procured the Volvo and wheeled through the streets, radio blaring.
“To get us in the mood,” I supplied, as I turned up the local Top 40 station, feeling young and reckless. Which probably wasn’t the best way to go into a breaking-and-entering stint in a high school in Central Texas.
“How exactly are we going to get the dress?” Janice asked nervously when we pulled in to the Willow Creek High School parking lot, smacking the gum I insisted we chew to complete the look.
I whipped a fingernail file out of an oversized WCHS canvas bag I had found.
“What?” She sounded panicked. “We’re going to break into India’s locker? We can’t do that!”
“And you call yourself an investigative reporter.”
“You were the one who went on about unlawful search and seizure.”
“That was before I pulled out my red cape.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Forget it. We need to hurry.” I rolled out of the car, smacking the gum, dragging the bag with me, and tripped on the pair of chunky heels Savannah insisted I wear. “We need to get inside while the kids are changing classes so we can see where India’s locker is.”
Janice couldn’t seem to move from the car. I raced around and opened her door. “Weren’t you the one saying that you wanted to be a supportive mom?”
“Yeah, supportive mom, not serving-eight-to-ten mom.”
I laughed. “Come on, Janice.”
She drew a deep breath and got out of the car. “You know this is insane, right?”
“Sure,” I said, and dragged her along beside me.
Thankfully, it didn’t take more than a yard or two before Janice got into her role. “We’ll blend in,” she stated, though I wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.
Taking the cement steps to a west side door, we slipped inside, hurrying down one corridor, then another, making our way through the maze of hallways of WCHS.
The deeper we went, the more Janice got into her role. By the time the bell rang and students flooded the halls between classes, my cohort in crime “jived” with the masses. “Hey, dude. What’s up? Awesome.”
“Dude,” some boy said. “What’s with the grammas in school?”
So much for blending in.
“Keep your head down,” I instructed.
Just before the bell for fifth period rang, we saw India at her locker. Sure enough, she barely opened it, tossing a book in, slipping another out, before she banged it shut then walked away.
As soon as the bell rang, we raced forward. I was struck by the sudden, nearly deafening silence once the kids were back in class.
“This is the one,” I said, dropping the bag and taking out the file.
I glanced up and down the wide deserted hall, lockers lining each side, and a large round clock extending out. One thirty-two.
I took the file to the lock and got to work. But no matter how I pried, the latch wouldn’t give.
“Hurry,” she said.
“I’m working as fast as I can.”
“Here, let me try.”
She grabbed the file, but made no progress.
“Someone’s coming,” I gasped as I suddenly heard the faraway sound of sensible heels echoing in the corridor.
I grabbed the file, and stuck it between the outer metal trim and the door, jimmying hard (no doubt adrenaline kicking in) until the door popped open. We leaped back in surprise as the dress fell out. I barely caught it before it hit the floor.
“We got it!” Janice squealed.
The footsteps grew louder.
“Oh, my gosh, we’ve got to hurry!” she cried in a whisper.
Like crazy people, we stuffed the billowing satin, tulle, and organza into the bag, nearly zipping our fingers in our haste. Then we flew in the opposite direction of the footsteps, careening through the hallways. Both of us having graduated from WCHS, we knew our way by heart despite the years that had passed between graduation and the present.
Right then left, our chunky heels sliding on the shiny linoleum like kids from The Breakfast Club.
“Just one more hallway and we’re home free,” Janice bleated.
We rounded a corner that took us back to the side door. And came smack-dab in front of Mr. Sisk, assistant principal of WCHS for as long as anyone could remember.
“What the devil are you two girls doing out of class?”