“Hey,” I said brightly. “How’d it go? Am I expelled?”
“Hardly,” my mom said.
“We should go,” I said. “Right now. Thanks Mr.—I mean, Monsieur—McPhulty.”
“En français, s’il vous plaît.”
Oh, brother.
“Bonjour. I mean, merci. Shoot, I mean, au revoir.” I was so eager to get my parents out of there before they accidentally ran into Armand that I would have had better luck speaking Swedish.
“What is wrong with you?” my dad whispered as soon as we rounded the corner. “Did someone phone in a bomb threat?”
“Worse. Armand is here.”
“Did he see you?” both of my parents asked at the same time.
“No, but it was close. C’mon, let’s go.”
“That garden,” my mom said as we hurried out of the building, “really is just darling.”
Chapter 6
It took me nearly an hour to find Roux after school the next day. I looked all over the campus, and when that didn’t work, I hunted in the surrounding neighborhood, poking my head into every Starbucks, anti-Starbucks, and clothing store that I passed. I figured I would hear Roux before I could see her, since her mouth is bigger than her height, but after turning up Roux-less, I finally gave up and trudged back to my locker.
And there she was, standing in front of her locker, angrily grabbing books out and shoving old ones back in like they had said something personally offensive to her.
“Roux!” I called out when I saw her, but she didn’t look up. “Roux, c’mon!”
“You don’t have to shout,” she said when I was close enough. “It’s not like half the school is named Roux. I heard you the first time.”
“Where have you been?” I asked her. “I looked all over for you. I had to eat lunch in the library.”
“That’s good for you. Builds character.”
“Roux.”
She sighed and slammed her locker shut. “Look, today has been the longest day ever and now I just want to go home and soak in my bathtub and watch reality television so I can feel better about myself. So please, tell me what you need so I can get it for you and then go about my business.”
I paused. “You know what? You should take debate or something. I mean it, you’re really eloq—”
“Did you just chase me down to suggest that I enroll myself in a class that teaches useless arguing?”
“Um, no.” I stood a bit taller and put on my best smile. “We need to talk about Halloween.”
Roux just sighed and brushed past me. “The devil’s holiday. Don’t eat unwrapped candy. Trick-or-treat with a buddy. There, I think we’ve covered everything.”
I dashed to catch up with her and planted myself directly in her path. “I need your help.”
“I gathered.”
“I may or may not have told Jesse Oliver that I was going dressed as a spy for Halloween.”
“Excellent. Try to figure out how you can show some cleavage in the costume.” She started to walk away again, but I moved so she was trapped in the hallway. “Um, does this count as harassment?”
“Nope. Now please, help me. I need help. You always tell me that.”
“Fine! Oh my God, you’re relentless. I admire that, I have to admit. So what do you need? Night-vision goggles?”
“No, those are way too heavy to be useful,” I said without thinking, but all my comment did was make Roux smile. A reluctant smile, but a smile just the same.
“Okay,” she said. “So you need help with your costume.”
I twisted my hands in front of me. “Kind of?”
“Kind of.”
“I also need help with a party. Wait!” I said as she rolled her eyes and started to walk away. “Look, he overheard me talking about my costume and so now I have to have one, but it doesn’t do me any good to wear it on Halloween night without going out. So I need a party.”
“What, do you think I just carry parties around in my pocket?”
“Well …” I gave her my most charming, possible-BFF smile. “Maybe you could throw a party?”
“HA!” Her laugh sounded anything but amused. “Trust me, Mags, if I threw a party, the only people who’d be attending would be you, me, and the housekeeper. And she leaves every night at seven.”
“Come on!” I pleaded with her, following her down the steps of school and into the front of the building. It was chilly in the shade, and I was glad for the peacoat that Angelo had bought for me. “You probably know how to throw a party better than anyone else.”
When in doubt, go with flattery. A tried-and-true rule.
“That’s true,” Roux admitted. “I can throw a hell of a party. The only problem is that no one will come. I just told you.”
“Well, aren’t you popular?” I said.
Roux snorted.
“You have friends, right?”
Roux held her arms around and turned in a circle. “Yes, these are my friends. All of them. Can’t you see them? Aren’t they stunning?” She dropped her hands back down at her sides and glared at me. “I don’t know which of your five senses doesn’t work, but in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any friends.”
“Well, okay, maybe not here at school, but …”
“No friends. Nowhere. Nada. No one’s told you yet?”