He shrugged. “Do you always talk on your phone while surrounded by strangers?”
Why did he have to be so fast with a retort? I tried to think even faster. “I’m not telling you what I do,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that because you’re …” He leaned in for greater emphasis, and why, oh why, did he have to have such nice, soft-looking skin? “… a spy?”
“I was talking,” I said huffily, “about a Halloween costume. Yes. A Halloween costume. That will be the best one ever. Yes.” I had no idea what I was saying. Halloween was still a month away, and the last time I dressed up, I was four and trick-or-treated at exactly one house: Angelo’s. (He gave me a full-size Snickers bar and a diary with a little lock and key. It was awesome.)
But that was then, this was now, and I had to get in the game.
“My friend Roux is having a Halloween party,” I continued, like I hadn’t just met Roux six hours ago. “Costumes are very important.”
“Roux?” Jesse repeated. “She’s having a party?”
“You know her?” I pretended to play dumb and twirled a lock of my hair for good measure.
“How many Rouxs do you think there are?”
“The one I know is the only one that matters.” My hair was starting to get tangled around my finger and it was hurting. I let it go and it spiraled out into a snarl. Wonderful.
Jesse snorted, which was really not an attractive quality for him. “You’ll probably be the only person at the party. So, you go to Harper?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “Where do you go?”
“Harper.” He extended his hand and his stupidly adorable golden retriever leaped toward him, like he was expecting a treat. “I’m Jesse. This is Max.”
“Hi. Hi, Max,” I added for good measure. Max appeared to have an out-of-control drooling problem, and I took a step back as he came toward me.
“What, you don’t like dogs?” Jesse asked.
“I like dogs. I don’t like saliva. Are you sure he’s not going to dehydrate?”
“So you’re new at Harper?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” I pointed out.
“Well, you’re answering them, so …” He shrugged.
“Yes, I’m new at Harper.” Pull. It. Together. Maggie. “I’m a junior. I didn’t see you around school today. Where do you ditch?”
Jesse gave me a real smile for the first time. “Here and there.”
“Is it easy to get off campus?”
“Not really, no. You have to want it.”
“Oh, I want it,” I said, and then found myself blushing a little. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”
I was so, so, SO thankful that this conversation wasn’t secretly being recorded. I think I would rather have been targeted by a sniper than have anyone overhear it.
“We’ll see,” Jesse replied, then tightened Max’s leash around his hand. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go. Bye, Spy Girl,” he added as Max trotted past me, leaving a drool trail behind him. I watched them leave while mentally readjusting my to-do list.
Number one: make Roux my friend. Number two: convince her to throw a Halloween party. Number three: invite Jesse Oliver.
And somewhere in there, figure out how I became such a bumbling, ridiculous spy.
Chapter 4
The next morning, after tossing and turning for most of the night, I had a shiny new plan.
And like most of my plans, it involved deviousness, blatant lying, and coffee.
I started with the coffee first.
I had come up with the shiny new plan (SNP, because acronyms always sound more important) about three in the morning, after I realized that what I had said to my mom earlier was true: I was cracking a person, not a safe. Jesse Oliver didn’t have a keypad attached to his forehead, and this “let’s make googly eyes at each other” business was going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be. Let’s just put it this way: I’ve never had a safe make googly eyes at me.
The first step: changing my class schedule.
The second step: making Roux my new BFF. (Acronyms, like I said.)
I strolled into the school’s office at eight the next morning, large coffee in hand, still wearing my boring and itchy school uniform. (Unfortunately, my SNP didn’t involve accessorizing. I’m a talented person, but some things are just out of my league.) Kids were filling the hallways, each person looking cooler than the next. Were teenagers always this loud? I was going to need to buy an economy-sized bottle of aspirin before this job was over.
“Hey!” someone yelled, and when I turned around, I saw Roux strolling toward me. “Seriously, not even a pin or something?”
“What?”
She waved her hand toward me. “Your uniform. Didn’t we discuss this yesterday?”
“Oh.” I glanced down at my plaid monstrosity. “Um, I thought that was more of a theoretical conversation.”
Roux just stared at me. “Theoretical conversation? Are you for real?” She continued on before I could even answer. “Look, please, do it for me. My eyes, they burn when I look at this situation. Help me help you.”
I’ve met a lot of people in my life, but this girl took the cake. “You realize that it’s just a uniform, right?” I said. “It’s not the be-all, end-all of who I am.”
“Good thing,” she replied. “Because if it was, it would be saying, ‘I’m boring.’”