Lola McAffrey's Great Disappearing Act

Time to Kill

Sunday was usually the day that I spent scrambling to get back on track for my classes on Monday. But I had so much time Friday and Saturday that everything had already been done—a true first for me. Had it been a normal weekend with Cori, I wouldn't have had so much time to kill.

She was due to be at the house right at two, and without fail that's exactly when the doorbell rang. I raced down the stairs to greet her, but Mom beat me to it. "Hello, Cori. How are you?" It was her normal pleasantries, but it was also a fishing expedition. If Cori wasn't going to tell me what was wrong with her, why would she spill her guts to my mom?

"Hey," I said, trying to play it cool. I didn't want her to know that I had been going a little bonkers without being in constant communication with her over the past two days.

"Ready to get to work?" Cori held up a binder that already had SOCIAL EXPERIMENT typed in large capital letters across the front.

"Absolutely." I smiled and raced back upstairs with Cori fast on my heels. As soon as she walked over the threshold, I slammed the door shut and settled onto the floor. I had plenty of floor pillows to keep us comfy. Cori was already making herself at home in a pile of them.

"I've done a little of the prep work, but I'm going to need you to take notes. I left some blank pages in the binder for you to do that. We can pass it back and forth during the project so we can get both perspectives."

"Okay, yeah. Sure." I stared her down. "So, what was up on Friday?"

"What? Nothing."

"Cori, you weren't yourself. It was weird." Cori didn't look up. She continued to flip through her binder. "Care to explain?"

"I can't." She looked up at me. "I don't know what was wrong with me." There was more to the story. It was written all over her face. "I just hope it doesn't happen again."

"You're not, like, sick or anything are you?" That was all I needed—a BFF with an expiration date.

"No, Lolz. It was just stress. You know, that feeling that you've never had?"

That wasn't quite true. I had experienced a bit of stress from time to time, but I wasn't like Cori. It didn't settle in so deep that it started to eat me alive. In that respect, stress had Cori by the throat. "Okay, we'll move on. Do you have everything you need for your half of the project?"

"Of course. All I need to do is observe our classmates." Cori shut the binder. "I hate to say this, but I really hope they don't notice that you're missing. That sounds awful, doesn't it?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled wide. "Of course not. If they notice, the project is over before we have any time to come to a conclusion. I want to have that cloak of invisibility, at least for a day or two." Cori nodded, but she still looked unsure. "Besides, I want my time with Aunt Liv. I know there's no way she'll really make me do P.E., so I'm good with it." I leaned back, my hands behind my head. This project was going to be almost as good as having a vacation.

"When are you leaving?"

I looked at my clock. "A couple of hours. You should come with me. Aunt Liv would love to see you. We could have dinner at that Chinese place in Chesterville that you love so much."

Cori's face turned weird again. If she kept looking like that, I was afraid her expression would become permanent. "I don't think I can. I have a lot to get done tonight." Cori Charles? Having a lot to do on a Sunday night? I didn't believe it for a second. I knew her homework was done. Her tennis practices completed. Violin practice? Already knocked out of the park.

"Like what?" I asked, trying to play it cool.

"Just... stuff. The usual." Cori tried to look at everything in my room but me. Before I could formulate the question that would make her crack, she started to get up. "I better leave. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll bring the binder and your homework to you after school. Make sure to take notes, okay?"

"Will do, Chief." I saluted. I was a nerd, but Cori loved me for it. This time, she booked it out of my room so fast that she didn't even notice.