☾ ☽
At school, we go our separate ways, searching every inch of the school for our blonde, fashionable friend just in case she came here instead of the house. No such luck on my end, but I did manage to walk in on one couple who was taking advantage of an empty classroom to make out—that wasn't fun.
I meet up with Patricia, Fabian, and Alfie near the entrance to the hallway. Alfie's holding a large box with a boom-box on top of it, and before I could get a chance to ask him about it, Patricia says, "She's not in school. I've looked everywhere."
"Guys, this has gotten out of hand," Alfie tells us. "We need to tell someone about this."
"And say what?" Patricia asks. "'We're sorry we broke into Miss Denby's house'?"
"Okay, look," Fabian says, "let's get back to the gatehouse this lunchtime when Denby's not there. If we still can't find Amber, then we tell Sweet."
I nod. "Okay, seems like—seems like a good plan."
Willow appears out of nowhere, speaking Fabian's name. I look at her weirdly as Fabian tells us he'll catch up. Patricia pulls Alfie and I away, only for Jerome to also appear out of nowhere, not even uttering an apology to them before putting his arm around me.
"So, about the business project," he greets me. "It appears as though my, uh, Alfido hot dog idea has gone down the drain."
Right, the project. I've got nothing else to do until lunchtime. I reach up to grab his hand, retorting, "Does that mean I win by default?"
"Yes, it means you win by default," he concedes in a reluctant tone. "So, what's your brilliant-but-not-as-brilliant-as-mine idea?"
"Chocolate chip cookie bar," I answer.
Jerome blinks. "That's... oddly brilliant."
"Oddly?"
"No offense."
"Is it better than yours?"
He purses his lips, admitting, "It's better than mine." I smile. "Do you have a name for your fancy chocolate chip cookie bar?"
I shake my head. "Nope. I figured I'd leave that to you, Alfido."
"Hey, Alfido is Alfie," Jerome corrects. "I just came up with it. Oh, speaking of Alfie—where's his better half? I didn't see Amber at breakfast today. Matter of fact, I didn't see you or Alfie either until just now."
"Oh, we, uh, had something to do," I respond vaguely. "Before school. Forgot about breakfast."
"Alfie forgot about breakfast?" He sounds skeptical, with a raised eyebrow to go along with it.
"He did."
"Scooby gang?"
"Scooby gang."
"Are you okay?"
"We're all okay," I lie, knowing the chance that Amber isn't. "We're just trying to figure something out, Jerome. So, uh, chocolate chip cookie bar name ideas—go."
Jerome nods, fortunately going with my change of subject. "Uh, let's see... Ready... Cookie? Ready Cookie?"
"And you call yourself an entrepreneur."
He continues suggesting names for our project, though all but one are vetoed. Unfortunately, the one I agree to—Chocolate Chip Express—comes at the same time we walk into the lounge and see other students beginning to set up their displays. So much more thought was put into theirs than ours, because we're the ones stupid enough to make a class project into a competition and not decide which project we'll be doing until the very last minute.
"Yeah, we're gonna lose," Jerome states.
"There's no way we can get the Chocolate Chip Express set up this quickly," I add, eying Eddie's project—something about America. Oh, boy. "And the cookies will take forever to bake, even with Trudy's help."
Jerome turns to me. "You know, I already had the banner made up for Alfido and the hot dogs." I don't look at him, not wanting to use his idea. "It's better than nothing, Ash."
"Oh, God, we're gonna fail."
"But at least we'll fail together."
—
So, unfortunately and definitely reluctantly, I agreed to Jerome's Alfido idea. Alfie's not too keen on wearing the dog costume again, grumbling about it when he has to go change into it while Jerome and I set up the display. Except we barely got half of it up before Jerome commented that we both have to change into something red so the display makes sense, which led to the argument we're having now.
"What's wrong with my uniform?"
"Nothing, but I'm not going to be wearing mine so if one of us is wearing our school uniform and the other isn't—"
"So keep your uniform on, so that I don't have to go all the way back to the house to find something red."
"No one else is going to be wearing their uniform—"
"—which means we'll stand out."
As Alfie comes back in, wearing the dog costume, Jerome points at him. "Ashley, look at him," he states. "We already stand out. Okay, you know what—if you don't want to go back to the house and change, just go to drama and see if they have a red shirt or skirt or something you can borrow."
"Fine," I agree reluctantly, eyeing his uniform. "Where's your red shirt then?"
"In my locker."
"Then go change into it."
"You know," Alfie says, "I can't wait for the inevitable red-shirt karma to kick in for you two."
—
It took me longer than I expected to find something red in drama's costumes that would fit me and wouldn't be too overly dramatic for the project. I did recognize some costumes from the play we put on the first year Nina was here—when I was in charge of special effects and makeup, and when she nearly missed the finale because she had snuck out to break into Victor's safe in search of one of the pieces that made up the Cup of Ankh.
Man, those were simpler times.
I finally found a red skirt hiding between the dress Nina wore during the play and a dress from a production of Romeo and Juliet we skipped out on last year. I took it from the racks and pulled it on, tucking my white blouse into it before putting my uniform skirt and my tie in my locker and returning to the lounge.
"Found a red skirt," I greet Jerome with a narrowed glare. "Happy now?"
"Very," Jerome responds, leaning forward to kiss me. I duck out of the way. "What are you doing?"
"Avoiding your kisses because I'm a little upset with you."
"You're upset with him?" Alfie questions, looking up from his phone. Probably texting Amber again, hoping she'll answer. "Look at me. I'm never going to forgive him."
"And you shouldn't ever forgive him," I agree. "I know I won't."
Jerome nervously laughs. "Now, now, I think you two are being a bit dramatic—"
I mock his introduction of our project, "...And I give you, Alfido and His Amazing Hot Dogs!" Alfie laughs, the first time I've heard it since we snuck into the gatehouse yesterday. "Shall I go on?"
"No, please don't," Jerome says quickly, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Okay, the two of you can do whatever you want to get back at me after we get our grade. We're a group, all right? We suffer together."
"We suffer with the grade," Alfie corrects, pointing between me and himself. "You suffer through whatever revenge Ash and I get on you."
"And it will be good," I add. "You know what they say about payback, Jerome." Jerome mocks me, walking around to finish setting up the display. I walk closer to Alfie, asking quietly, "Anything?"
"The text didn't go through," Alfie tells, looking sadly at his phone. "How much longer 'til lunch?"
"Still a couple of hours. Maybe we can manage to sneak out early—"
Alfie cuts me off as an older man walks through the doors with Sweet, motioning to him. "Who's he?"
We watch as Sweet introduces the new guy to Denby as Mr. Millington—Amber's father. Alfie and I share a look, listening in as best we can without looking like we're actively trying to eavesdrop. When Amber's dad says something about Amber saying there's never a dull moment at this school, I mutter to Alfie, "I wish there was a dull moment."
"You're telling me," Alfie agrees.
"Where is she, anyway?" Mr. Millington asks.
Denby looks around, saying my name. "Ashley—no sign of Amber yet?"
"Uh..." I glance at Alfie and Patricia, trying to come up with a believable excuse. "Actually, she's sick."
"Amber's sick?!" Willow exclaims, essentially starting to hyperventilate at the very thought. "Is she okay? Did she ask for me?"
"Well, Trudy hasn't called me," Denby says, turning back to me.
Patricia speaks up, "No, uh, she asked Ash to tell you. Right, Ash?"
"Right, right, yeah," I say. "She's, uh... tending. To her."
"Well," says Mr. Millington, "I hope it's nothing to worry about."
"How can I not be worried?" Willow questions. She sighs dramatically and turns around to face the windows.
"I'll give her a call," her dad says, "let her know I'm here."
—
The business ed competition is now in full swing, with other students not in Denby's class buying what we made. I say 'we' loosely; the Alfido brand hot dogs are the last thing I want to be selling. Right up there with priceless and cursed ancient Egyptian artifacts.
Eddie disappeared at some point, but KT doesn't seem too worried. She even just gathered not-Sibuna together, asking if we had a plan to find Amber and get her back. Fabian's just given her the roots of our plan—lunchtime. But Alfie interrupts, "We can't wait 'til lunchtime to get Amber."
"As long as Denby's here," KT says, "there's no way we're gonna get out."
Jerome whistles. "Fido, here, boy!" I roll my eyes and Alfie groans before going back over. "Ashley, my dear, my sweet—"
"Stop sucking up," I interrupt as he comes over. "You're not getting out of the revenge thing."
"I'm not sucking up," Jerome claims, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me back to our display from the not-Sibuna group meeting. "I just love you, so very much." I narrow my eyes, waiting for him to say what he really wants. "Okay, just try one of the hot dogs—"
"Um, never," I retort. "First of all, I don't even like hot dogs. And second, you said the sauce tastes like feet."
"I said it tastes like old socks," Jerome corrects as Mara and Willow both give us weird looks from their stand beside ours, "and it tastes better now! Right, Alfie?"
Alfie glares. "I'm not tasting it."
"Hey, all three of us are going to fail," Jerome says, pointing his finger between us. "We've had five people buy from us and three of them threw it in the trash on their way out. We might as well figure out how badly."
Alfie and I share a look before sighing. Jerome grins, taking our sighs as a yes as he hands each of us a hot dog. I scrunch my nose up, examining it as Alfie takes a bite out of his.
"Well," Alfie says after a minute, "it doesn't taste like old socks." Jerome lets out a cheerful exclamation. "It tastes like new socks." Jerome frowns.
"I'm not eating it," I say, handing him the hot dog back. "Did you even try it?"
"Of course I did," Jerome answers.
"Did you?"
"I did not."
Alfie pushes Jerome's hand with the hot dog in it closer to his mouth, saying, "It doesn't taste like old socks."
We hadn't noticed that someone was looking over our stand but when they hear Alfie say that, they walk away, cringing. Jerome, Alfie, and I look after them, before I say, "Maybe we get a high D."
"Or we get a zero and never leave this school," Alfie adds.
"Or that."
—
Finally, lunchtime comes around. Alfie, Jerome, and I are arguing over our lack of sales when Denby's voice cut in, announcing that it was lunchtime. As she speaks, Alfie and I sneak away and join Fabian and Patricia by the latter's project. "Okay, everyone, it's lunchtime, but if you've still got work to do, I suggest you get back here as soon as possible."
As soon as she turns around, Alfie pushes us and we run out of the room, fortunately without any teachers stopping us. Time to rescue Amber.
—
The sun is shining now at the gatehouse as we sneak in through our hidden passageway again. We split up searching the ground floor, checking every cupboard on the off chance she's hiding in one. We check every room, and fortunately, none are locked.
"Second floor," Alfie says, running up the stairs first. There's only one door on the second floor, and it leads to a large study. "Amber!"
I check a closet door, shaking my head. Nothing. Where is she? "Amber? Ams, are you here?"
"It's all right," Fabian says loudly so she can hear us, if she can, "it's only us."
"Amber!" Alfie adds. "It's me, Alfie! Amber!" There's no response to any of it.
"Face it," Patricia says, sighing, "she's not here."
"She has to be," Fabian counters.
"If she was anywhere else," I agree, "she would've come back by now. She's here, somewhere, hiding."
I barely get to finish my sentence before a door slams downstairs. No, no, not now! We spin around to the door, eyes wide. "Denby," Alfie concludes.
"What's she doing here?" I ask. "She's supposed to be at the school—"
Fabian runs out of the room, saying the word 'no' several times as we run after him, slowing down when we get back to the staircase. We see Denby setting her bag on a tray and then going back out the door. Running down the stairs as quick as we can without making too much sound, we go back through our passageway and outside again.