Making the Grade (The Model Spy #2)

Chapter 11 - Bullies and Boy Bands

"So Spike," Max began, giving the boy with the spiky hair a designated nickname, "is a bully. No surprise there. He looks like a boy named Nate who pushed me into a gym locker in high school. It took the gym teacher nearly thirty minutes before he noticed I was missing. I wasn't exactly a stellar athlete," he explained.

 I rested my hand on his arm, partly to comfort him (though slightly humorous his story was), partly to quiet him as I began to speak, and partly to brace myself as we climbed the steep path up towards the school.

 "He is extremely jealous of anyone who has money to pay for the school." I squinted as a cold raindrop hit my face. The evening sky was beginning to cloud over once more. "Sure that is enough to bully them. It happened all the time at L.A. High. But to kill them and stage it as a suicide?" I shook my head. "I don't know about that."

The rain was falling harder now and Max and I sped up, nearly slipping on the now muddy pathway. Two girls ran past us, shrieking, holding textbooks over their heads. It was suddenly pouring. I felt my wet dress wrapping rather uncomfortably around my legs.

 Peeling it off of my skin, I looked around. "Where do you reckon we are meeting Fred?"

 Max had to wipe his hair out of his eyes. "There he is!" He pointed to a figure further up the path, closer to the school's front doors. The figure was holding an umbrella. He lifted a tall, thin arm and waved.

 "Hurry, hurry," he urged, "get out of the rain before you get sick."

 "That is actually a myth-" Max began, but he faltered with one look from Fred.

 Fred opened the door to the school and motioned for us to enter. I shivered instantly. The stone halls were very chilly. I could hear the drip, drip, drip of my soaking wet hair and clothing on the hard floor. There were portraits everywhere, of stern looking men and women, looking down their noses at us. It was like they were already judging us for whatever was about to occur in their hallowed halls.

 "Professor Scott's room is down this hall." Fred closed the umbrella.

 I studied him closely. He was wearing a different suit. It was crisp and black compared to his wrinkly, brown one he had worn on the plane. Even his tie was different. It was silk.

 "Did you change when you got off the plane?" I asked him as casually as I could.

 He bit the inside of his mouth. "I wanted to look presentable," he muttered. "I hadn't seen Professor Scott in years and first impressions..." He stopped speaking. His ears were red.

 Instantly, as he scurried past me to lead the way to Professor Scott's office, I got a strong whiff of a woodsy scent that reminded me of a pine forest my parents and I once camped in. The smell was so strong, it made my eyes water. I couldn't help myself. "Are you wearing cologne?"

 "Just a spritz."

 "Just a spritz?" I scoffed, rubbing my eyes. "You bathed in it."

 Now not only were his ears red, but his entire face was glowing. He walked faster until he reached an oak door at the end of the hall and rapped on it gently.

 "Come in." I recognized the smooth voice instantly as Professor Scott's.

 Fred opened the door, but stood back, making it clear he wanted Max and me to enter first. One look at Max's wet hair, plastered to his face, reminded me that, while Fred perhaps went a little overboard in his appearance, Max and I looked like we fell overboard somewhere over the Atlantic. We looked like a pair of drowned rats.

 But Professor Scott wasn't looking at us.

 "Fred, are you alright? Your face is all red!" She stared at him, her eyes large with concern.