Lola McAffrey's Great Disappearing Act

What the Hell Did You Do to My Sister?

I was distracted in all my classes that day, mostly because I was trying to formulate a great argument. I wanted to be prepared with a counterpoint for every wait, but what about... that the principal wanted to throw at us. I thought I had everything covered once I met Cori at her locker.

"So, are you ready? Jenny Smithers says Mr. Peterson likes to cut out early, so we have to get going."

"Yep, I'm coming." Cori pulled a large bag of tennis gear out of her locker along with her overstuffed backpack. The girl had to be carrying twenty-five pounds of stuff. I held out my hand and offered to lighten the load, but she shook her head. "I've got it. Thanks."

We turned the corner and ran right into Mr. Peterson trying to sneak out. "Oh, Mr. Peterson!" I said in my sweetest Jenny Smithers-like voice. "We were just coming to see you."

"Uh, yeah. I must have forgot." Mr. Peterson rubbed his neck. I wasn't born yesterday—that was an obvious tell that he hadn't forgotten at all.

"That's okay," I said, keeping up a grin I knew looked more like the Joker and less like Jenny. "We'll only take a few minutes of your time." Mr. Peterson headed back toward his office as we followed along. We ended up at his not-so-secret side door instead of walking through the main office. He unlocked it and motioned for us to come in. Cori's bags made an audible thud on the carpet as she sat them down.

"So, what did you ladies need to talk to me about?" I looked at Cori. She was clearly exhausted and wouldn't be much help. She always looked like this on Friday afternoons. That's why at the week's end we would always go from Starbucks for the pick-me-up, to the mall for a little relaxing retail therapy, and then to a movie to wind down the evening.

"We proposed a project to Mr. Arlow. Did he speak to you about it?" I was hoping that half of the battle would have already been taken care of.

"No, I haven't spoken to Mr. Arlow today."

Damn. "Well, we have been assigned a sociology project and we need to get permission from you to complete it."

"What exactly are you asking permission for?"

I bit my lip. Here was the pivotal moment. "We need permission for me to be absent from school for ten days."

"That's a lot of missed days," I knew Mr. Peterson was searching for my name, but he was coming up with nothing. "It would just be you, and not Cori as well?" Of course Mr. Peterson knew Cori's name.

"Yes, it would just be me. Cori would come to school as normal, observing and taking notes for our project."

Mr. Peterson leaned back in his seat. "You're going to have to be more specific. I'm not sure what a sociology project has to do with you missing two weeks of school." I tried to explain it all to him the best I could, making note that we were both above average students—Cori being above-above average—and it was only for the sake of the project, not as just some goof-off fest.

"I assure you Mr. Peterson that all of Lola's homework will be done and turned in," Cori added. Mr. Peterson's eyebrows went up. Now he knew my name. "All of her teachers will be informed. We just need the students to not be aware of the project. That's what we're studying."

"It's," Mr. Peterson looked at his watch, "three-fifteen on a Friday. The teachers need to know before you stop showing up. You better catch them before they leave."

"So we're good?" I added.

"If all your teachers agree, then yes. I'll email Mr. Arlow to let him know."