11
“No,” Harper says sharply to both Aidan and me. Though Aidan is here via Harper’s phone lying on the coffee table. He’s between classes in his first day of the training program in Georgia.
Through the speaker, Aidan’s voice overlaps my sister’s. “How did you get away from this Oscar guy? Have you checked to make sure he didn’t tail you home?”
“I got rid of him by promising to help out in New York,” I admit, though this will really get Harper good and pissed off. “Even convinced him to ditch the truck he stole. Dominic gave him bus money, and we watched him board a Greyhound to Penn Station.”
“Okay, I guess that’s one way to avoid him,” Aidan says carefully. “So…what’s the big con?”
I start to tell Aidan, but Harp lifts a hand to shush me. She glares down at the phone as if Aidan can see her. “No,” she repeats. “I don’t care what this job is; she’s not going to New York or anywhere to meet our family.”
“How are you paying for this trip?” Aidan asks.
“Dominic got his dad to donate a scholarship trip to Holden or something.” The office called me down during third period today to tell me they received my interest form for the Manhattan Arts and Culture course and had financial aid available now if I wanted to participate. Sheldon and Sharp had been stalling on giving me a decision, but the school trip to New York sealed the deal.
“Yes. A school field trip,” Harper points out. “You can’t just wander off to help Dad. Someone’s going to start asking questions.”
“Justice says supervision is pretty loose on these trips, especially for juniors and seniors.”
“That makes me feel a whole lot better,” Harper snaps.
I roll my eyes. She knows I can handle myself. I don’t need a babysitter.
“As much as I’d love to keep arguing,” Aidan says, “I have an exam on disabling explosives in five minutes.”
“An exam on the first day?” I ask, shocked at this. “Are you doing any chemistry? Any material on building explosives? Or are you focusing on techniques for gathering human intel?”
Yep, I definitely overindulged in the FBI and CIA biographies during my vacation.
Harper lifts her hands in the air. “Why can’t either of you just do normal things, like accounting or underwater basket weaving?”
“Wait,” I say to the phone on the coffee table. “Have you talked to Miles recently? He canceled on me last night, and I don’t know if they even made it back from Turkey. I’m sure they did, right? He wouldn’t have missed school.”
“Want me to look into it?” Aidan asks gently. “I didn’t talk to any of the Becketts yesterday or today, but I’m sure everything is fine.”
“It’s okay,” I answer quickly, not wanting to blow a cover or create an issue for the Becketts. But the worry grows in my gut. “Yeah, maybe. Carefully.”
“Got it. And fax me the FBI permission slip whenever your sister caves,” he says, earning a scowl from Harper.
After we hang up, Harper won’t look at me. She rushes into the tiny kitchen of our second-floor apartment and pulls out a couple of pots, setting them on the stove. Then she pulls random items from the fridge. As if she plans to cook us dinner.
Uh-oh, not good.
I reach into the pocket of my uniform skirt and pull out the fifty-dollar bill I earned from tutoring a classmate yesterday afternoon. “Let’s order pizza. You’ve had a long day.”
She glares at me, and then the anger turns to worry as the pot in her hand is neglected. “Why is this so important to you? Mom has done things to earn that jail time.”
“So have I,” I argue. “And a decade? I never would have agreed to help Sheldon if I knew her sentence would be that—” I swallow back the angry tears. “I have to fix this. It’s my fault.”
“But—” she starts.
“I’m doing it, Harper. You know this already. I know you do.”
“What if you get caught and put in jail?” she drills. “What good will that do for Mom?”
“As long as I follow the undercover protocol, I have immunity. I can’t be arrested for anything I help Dad and his crew accomplish.”
“What if Dad finds out you’re helping the FBI?”
“I don’t care.” I shake my head. “I don’t care what he thinks. He’s nothing to me. I hope he rots in jail. Are you going to be pissed off at me or be there to help when I need you?”
She stares at me for a long moment, her blond hair falling over her eyes, and then finally she sighs. “Fine.” She snatches the fifty from my hand. “But we’re getting olives.”
Only after earning my sister’s blessing do I really truly begin to panic about seeing my dad again and getting inside this job. Maybe I do care a little bit what he thinks. I know I care what Miles thinks, and he still doesn’t know. And yeah, part of me, though I’m growing more worried by the day, is relieved to have an excuse not to tell him my plans.
“When do you leave?” Harper plops onto the couch and opens her laptop, preparing to put in an online order to Pizza Hut. “How are you getting to New York? And is there an itinerary for this trip in case I need to contact you?”
“We leave Saturday at six in the morning,” I tell her. “Taking a bus to DC and then a train to New York. And I’m sure there’s an itinerary, but I don’t have it yet. We can assume it involves museums, theater, and, knowing Holden, some college visits.”
“Good,” Harper says, surprising me. “I don’t want Justice and Chantel stealing meetings with admissions officers from you. They’ve got enough opportunities already. I’ve been reading college chat boards, and everyone is saying how valuable face-to-face meetings are, especially with the Ivy League schools.”
I’m literally speechless. I just stand there for several seconds before finally spitting out, “Who are you? And when did I become an Ivy League candidate?”
“Well, why shouldn’t you be?” Harper says simply. “You’re a legal person now, you’ve got your Social Security card, you’re registered for the SAT. Pepperoni or sausage?”
“Pepperoni,” I say, leaving the other topic for later discussion. Maybe Harper’s just feeling bored with her big-sister role and wants to play ambitious college-pushing parent for a little while.
There’s a knock at the door. I look over at Harper, my eyebrows lifted. “Did you request lightning-fast delivery?”
“I haven’t even started the order.”
Through the peephole, I see Dominic standing uncomfortably, his arms swinging at his sides. “It’s for me. I’ll be outside.”
“Put your coat on!” she calls.
I head out in just my uniform sweater despite Harper’s request and close the front door behind me. On the landing, I glimpse Clyde’s old apartment. He moved back to DC right after our pre-Christmas dinner, since he’d been here only to keep an eye on Miles during his semester at Holden. A wave of sadness hits. Miles was so close for what felt like so long, and now he’s off the map.
Or he’s decided he doesn’t like me anymore. Former con girls were never his type anyway. But Miles is a gentleman; he’d tell me himself if he wanted to end things.
“So you got the message from the office?” Dominic says, interrupting my pity party. “About the scholarship?”
“Yeah, and Sheldon and Sharp gave our plan the green light.” I hug myself for protection against a gust of freezing wind. God, it’ll be even colder in New York. But luckily the inch of snow on the ground brightens the sky, which would normally be dark at six thirty.
“I think it’s smart that you’re using the school trip to do this job. Gives you a fallback plan and you’re not completely under the control of the FBI.”
“Yep,” I agree with a nod. He probably doesn’t know to what extent that statement is true. I trust Sheldon and Sharp to do what’s best for the investigation, not necessarily what’s best for me.
He reaches into the back pocket of his khaki uniform pants, and hands me a white envelope. I peek in and lift an eyebrow at the good-size stack of twenty-dollar bills. “Not everything is covered by the trip fee. You’re gonna need some cash.”
His cheeks are pink, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or from embarrassment over knowledge of my economic situation. I’m tempted to thrust it back at him, but he’s right. I will have to pay for some things. And I’m not asking Aidan or Harper for money; they’ve got enough to worry about. “Whatever I don’t spend, you can have back. I’m economical; I won’t use this much.”
“It’s not a gift,” he says. “I sort of sold your services.”
Before my mind can wander to dark and dirty places, I remember that he likely knows about what I did for Jacob last semester. A con woman was scamming his father, ruining his marriage and Jacob’s trust fund in the process, and I convinced her to take off. In my own way. I did some digging to get that done, but nothing that would interfere with my new moral code. I glance warily at the envelope and then back at Dominic. “With the FBI watching me, I can’t exactly run around breaking laws. Plus, it’s kind of not my thing anymore.”
Dominic pulls a small sheet of paper from the envelope, where he’s scribbled various things on both sides. “Pick the stuff that’s within your limits, and I’ll deliver the bad news and refunds for the rest.”
I quickly scan the list.
Rebecca Lawless—did cousin (Jessica Lawless) have boob job?
Brice Wilson—is girlfriend (Rebecca Lawless) cheating?
Hannah Yang—needs false letter of rec for summer internship.
Lexi Jorgan—fired from Smoothie King, smoking weed at work. Erase from employee records?
“Becca and Brice are fine,” I say, trying my best to use my What Would Miles Do thinking cap. “Scratch Hannah.”
“Got it,” Dominic says, nodding. “The Lexi Jorgan situation probably is over the line. I didn’t collect from her upfront.”
Lexi Jorgan is a senior in my AP German class. I know she has financial aid to attend Holden, like me. “Lexi seems pretty responsible. Why is she smoking weed at work? Pretty dumb for an AP student.”
“She says she has anxiety or something.” Dominic shrugs like whatever, forget that one.
But maybe Lexi is exactly who I should be helping.
“She’s eighteen, right? And smoking while on a break, we can assume?” I ask, and Dominic nods. “Her boss must have forgotten about Lexi’s medical condition and her card-carrying status. And if she has a medical condition, then firing her was technically—”
“Illegal,” Dominic finishes. He looks thoroughly impressed but also skeptical. “Can you actually make that happen?”
“Maybe,” I offer, not wanting to set myself up for failure. I’ve made fake IDs before and fake medical records, but this will be my first fake medical marijuana card. “I’ll talk to her myself, see what really happened.” And likely I won’t take her money.
I scan the rest of the list. There are nearly twenty items, many similar issues—false letters, is he/she cheating, blemishes on permanent records, etc.…
“All of this came up in the last two days?” I say. “And people actually paid upfront?”
“I compiled weeks of complaints and made a casual offer to each of them,” he says, like that didn’t take tons of time, effort, and energy—things I wouldn’t ever associate with Dominic. “Some only paid half upfront. But that means you get more cash later.”
He takes the envelope back, and we sort out the money for him to refund, keeping my moral conscience on track. I’m still left with a nice stack of bills.
“Cool.” That ghost of a smile of his appears for a few seconds. “Guess you’re all set, then.”
I stare at the money, hardly believing how this has all fallen into place. If only Miles would call. That would clear my head before I have to face my dad. “Just need to pack. And figure out what to wear.”
“Oh, well, that’s easy,” Dominic says. “Uniforms. Holden is weird about that, like they’re afraid we might be mistaken for a public school.”
That could be a problem, having to swap clothes every time I meet up with my dad. I’ll worry about that later. “Uniforms. Great. I’ve already got those.”
Guess I could come up with a cover story to tell my dad, one that incorporates uniforms. A long con of some kind. It would flow nicely with any info Oscar may have given him about finding me at a fancy private school in the middle of the night.
He looks at my bare legs and the skirt that falls above my knees. “Got any tights or leggings or whatever?”
I shake my head. “This is my first full winter in the cold.”
“You might want to use some of that cash for tights or leggings or something. We’re doing a lot of walking around the city. You’re gonna freeze.”
Not many guys stare at my legs and then ask me to cover them up. But then again, Simon was more Dominic’s type than I am. My teeth are chattering now, and I’m sure Dominic has something better to do, so I hold up the envelope and thank him for the help. Once inside, I make a plan to start on the long list of mostly morally clean tasks my classmates are paying big bucks for. Then in a couple of days, I can focus my attention on Dad’s Big Apple con, which I know very little about because Oscar, unfortunately, isn’t privy to those details.
I tuck away the envelope of cash before Harper sees it and vow to use a chunk of it to pay one of many bills lingering on the countertop.
But as I’m stuffing the wad of cash under my sweater, Dominic’s efforts seem even more glaring. Why is he so deeply invested in helping me go undercover for the FBI? What does he want out of this whole deal?