His hand shook as he deposited his answer in her box.
The rest of his planning period, he spent trying not to look at that box. Trying not to think about the implications of that note. Trying not to hope.
He failed miserably.
* * *
By the endof the school day, Martin was beginning to wonder if he’d hallucinated the whole note incident. Since then, he hadn’t received another message, either via college-rule paper or e-mail. She hadn’t stopped by the office to talk to him, although his stapled response in her box had disappeared before lunch. She hadn’t even waited around for him between sixth and seventh periods, when he’d arrived to take over her classroom.
He’d spotted her at the end of the hallway right after lunch, talking with Candy Albright and Principal Dunn.
But that was it. Otherwise, she’d become a ghost.
At the after-school faculty meeting, he kept sneaking glances toward the back of the cafeteria, where she was sitting beside Candy. Which seemed like a dangerous choice of company, to be honest. But both of the women appeared absorbed by the various end-of-year announcements and updates, and he didn’t detect Rose’s eyes on him. Not even once.
She wouldn’t fuck with you, he reminded himself. For all her queenly demeanor, she was a marshmallow over a campfire with those she cared about. Covered with black and slightly bitter on the outside, sweetly gooey within.
So what was she doing? His heart couldn’t handle much more suspense.
Then, halfway through the meeting, he looked behind himself for the umpteenth time, and she was gone. Nowhere to be found.
When she failed to return within several minutes, his fevered brain started spitting out various theories. Maybe she was terribly ill and had written his note in a hallucinatory stupor? Maybe she planned to quit because of Dale’s machinations, and the message was a sort of weird goodbye?
“That’s everything for today, but keep checking your e-mail for any further instructions. We’re in the home stretch now, everyone.” Tess smiled out at the crowd. “This meeting is officially over, but if you have time, you might want to stay a minute longer. I believe we have a bit of entertainment planned.”
Martin barely heard her. Instead, he stared blankly down at his untouched legal pad.
Rose hadn’t come back, which was very unlike her. Should he call to check that everything was okay? Maybe Annette or Alfred had injured themselves, and she needed—
A whiffle ball smacked him directly in the chest, its impact slight but shocking.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Instinctively, he jerked to his feet. Scanned his surroundings for the source of the ball. Only to see—
No. That made no sense. Maybehewas the one hallucinating.
For some unknown, unholy reason, Bianca appeared to be strolling toward him, black feathered wings fluttering behind her, a plastic bow-and-arrow set slung over her shoulder, more whiffle balls at the ready. And before he could do more than blink in confusion, she promptly nailed him again.
“Hey!” He ducked a third ball, which bounced off a nearby cafeteria table. “Stop that!”
“Consider this payback for the Tim Burton comments.” Her evil grin stretched her elfin face. “FYI, I got permission from my mom and Principal Dunn to throw stuff at you, so anytime Ms. Owens wants me to play Goth Cupid, I’m here for it.”
He took a breath. “Bianca, what in the world are—”
The next ball bounced off his shoulder, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“Bullseye.” Bianca blew on her hand, as if it were smoking-hot from her pitches. “I’m out of arrow balls, so quit giving me the stink-eye and look at them already.”
Wait. Goth Cupid? Arrow balls?
Keeping one cautious eye on Bianca at all times, he picked up the nearest ball.
Someone had used Sharpies to draw little black arrows on it. And red hearts.
“My work as Goth Cupid is done,” Bianca announced, and then glided serenely out of the cafeteria, her black wings—attached via some sort of harness, he thought he saw—bobbing above either shoulder.
His colleagues had stopped shuffling toward the exits. Instead, they were jostling each other and whispering and getting out their cell phones. Within a minute, he’d be on YouTube, and he still had no idea why.
