I WAITED FOR MIA at the gate when school was over for the day, watching the students streaming past me in their dark-blue uniforms. Was Secrecy among them, taking photos on the sly? Just in case she was, I leaned against a post by the wall in as fetching a pose as I could manage, with a slight smile on my face. There’d be nothing worse than being photographed with my mouth open, or with a grumpy expression, unless maybe I was also dribbling.
I straightened my glasses. It had been a pleasingly uneventful day, no upsetting encounters with people out of my dreams, no further mentions of me in the Tittle-Tattle blog, no time to brood on stuff that couldn’t be possible. Even Persephone couldn’t get on my nerves too badly, because we only had two classes together on Wednesdays. From now on, Wednesday was going to be my favorite day of the week.
Standing at my observation post, I saw Arthur and Jasper leaving the school grounds together, closely followed by Henry, who was with Florence and another girl and was deep in an obviously interesting conversation. Henry briefly glanced my way but didn’t really seem to notice me in the milling throng. Half a minute later, when the crowd of students was thinning out, and only a few came strolling through the gateway, Grayson appeared. He was looking down at the ground as he pushed his bicycle right past me, and he jumped when I said, “Hi.”
“Oh … it’s you,” he said, not very enthusiastically.
His reaction hurt my feelings a little bit. “Yes, it’s me. I’m sure it’s going to be great to share a bathroom with you in the near future.” I changed the leg I was standing on. What a good thing I’d assumed that casual but attractive pose.
Grayson had stopped and was looking all around him carefully. Very carefully. Too carefully.
“The coast’s clear; the Chinese secret service has knocked off work for the day,” I said after about twenty seconds. Grayson stopped.
“Er, Liv, you don’t by any chance have that hooded sweater I lent you here, do you? I’d like to have it back.”
“Of course.” I felt slightly irritated. Didn’t he have anything else to wear? “But no, I don’t by any chance have it here right now. We’ll be seeing each other at Arthur’s party on Saturday, and I’ll give it back to you then, freshly washed and dried.”
Grayson checked out our surroundings yet again. Then he said, “Well, about Saturday evening … I’d rather … you see … I mean, you can simply say your mother’s forbidden you to go to Arthur’s party.”
Now my feelings were more than a little bit hurt. “But why would I do that?”
“Because it … because I…” Grayson passed his hand over his forehead—by now I was familiar with that gesture of his—and looked at me as if hoping I would finish his sentence for him.
I wasn’t going to give him an easy way out. I made myself look sad. “Because you don’t want me to go to the party?”
He nodded.
Oh, charming! “Well, I suppose that’s that, then,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s just that—Mom was so thrilled to think you and your friends were being so nice to me.” And sure enough, Mom had said exactly what I’d expected. “How delightful of Grayson and his friends. Of course you must go. I’m really glad you’re getting to know people so quickly!”
Grayson let out a funny kind of snort. “Listen, we’re not being all that nice to you. It’d be much better for you to steer clear of us.” He mounted his bike.
“Okay, I’ll tell Mom,” I said, adding with a touch of malice, “although maybe you’d rather tell her the reasons yourself.”
Grayson didn’t seem to like that idea at all. He looked far from happy. “Don’t forget my sweater, will you?” he said as he was about to ride away. “I’d be really glad to have it back tomorrow. You needn’t bother about washing it.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“What was all that about?” Mia had appeared like a jack-in-the-box. The two of us watched Grayson cycle away. “First he seems so nice, then he doesn’t want to take you to this party? In your place I’d go anyway.”
“I will, too,” I agreed. “What a…” I tried to find the right word.
“An idiot,” said Mia bluntly, linking arms with me. We strolled over to the bus stop side by side.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“Not bad, really. Even if those girls get on my nerves. If I ever turn out like that, brain-dead on account of some boy and scribbling hearts all over my exercise books, I just hope someone shoots me.”
“I’ll remind you of that.”
“Seriously! I’m so glad we’re immune to boys, Livvy.”
“Maybe not absolutely immune, but at least hard to infect,” I admitted. It was a necessity. If you move every year like us, you have to be careful not to go falling in love, or you get your heart broken saying good-bye. And who’d want a thing like that to happen? “But maybe Mom is right, and someday when the ideal man for you comes along…”
“He’ll just have to wait until I’m through with college!”
I nudged Mia in the ribs. “I bet Aunt Gertrude always said that too,” I suggested, trying to scare her. “And look what became of her.”
“So? I’m certainly not about to sit in a horrible house with four cats, making crochet doilies. As a famous private detective, I’ll be solving the most interesting cases in the whole world.”
“Then maybe you can start by telling me exactly why Grayson is so keen to have his sweater back.” I was still feeling sore over that.
“Could be it’s his favorite one,” said Mia thoughtfully. “Or he’s hidden a love letter in it. Or he’s just an idiot.”
“Yup. I’m afraid he is.” So I was going to keep his sweater out of pure malice.
Only, that evening, when I was putting on my nightie and I saw Grayson’s sweater lying on the gold-upholstered bench in front of the bed, it did occur to me that there could be something else behind it. That Grayson might have a special reason for wanting it back in such a tearing hurry. I picked it up and buried my nose in it. It was just the sort of thing to be someone’s favorite, made of wool that was heavy but soft as butter, slightly roughened on the inside. And it still smelled slightly of Grayson, or rather Grayson’s soap.
The pockets were empty, and to be on the safe side I felt the seams as well. No sign of anything hidden there.
Maybe … It was a crazy thought, but the night before last I’d been wearing the sweater in bed, and then I met its rightful owner in my dream. Could that be why Grayson was suddenly so keen to have it back? Was there some connection between the sweater and the dream? Strange as that might sound, I was going to wear it again that night, anyway. Just to find out what happened.
Or if anything at all did happen.