“Do you like mysteries?”
Her brows rise. “Sometimes. For entertainment or real life?”
We’re interrupted by the guys bursting out laughing at Hobey as he breaks into his popular refrain, “Go, cocksucker, go. Go, cocksucker, go,” followed by Rett calling me into the kitchen.
Irritated, I jog in, but as I enter, he pulls me into the pantry and closes the door.
“Did you see your text?”
Shaking my head, I lower my voice. “Not right now.”
I know damn well my neighbors hate me because of the racket from my side of the house. Who knows if they might catch what we’re saying?
“I understand. But we have a test tomorrow.”
Meaning we have an update meeting that Hart called for the Eights.
Can Hart give it a rest until we have some idea what we need to do? He’s become hellbent on figuring out what Henry Tullis had to say.
Rett chews his lip before whispering, “We need to talk about what… God, how do I say this? I have an idea.”
Deo slips into the pantry.
“Nice. Now Bizzy’s going to think we’ve all lost our minds,” I grumble.
He puts his hands up. “Mate, if we’re pushing back against you know who… I’m in.”
But I’m not sure what our next steps need to be. The memories I dreamt about have me twisted up inside.
“Mya said we’re staying at her aunt Amy’s house when we go to the game, right? I have some questions.”
Rett slowly nods. “Agreed. But…”
A best friend’s job isn’t to talk you out of it. It's to help you do it.
“I happen to have an in.” Deo winks. Mya keeps her family secrets just as vigilantly as the Eights.
We leave the pantry to find Hobey flying a pattern through the house, screeching, “You suck. You suck. Shut up. You suck.”
Bizzy is recording him on her phone and laughing, thankfully unaware we were holed up conspiring to bombard an eccentric relative of her friends with questions about the past.
Weird times.
Rett pulls open the fridge again. “I bet these are all expired too.”
“Nah. Hey, it’s a sign of a good cook to have lots of sauces nobody else knows how to use.”
“So there,” Deo adds, moving out of Hobey’s way. “What are you making us?”
Bizzy stops recording Hobey and joins us in the kitchen. “Why were you asking me if I like mysteries?”
Both Rett and Deo look at me, startled.
Like they’re worried I’m about to give House secrets away. But I don’t want her hurt in any way.
I recover by saying, “Alright, don’t laugh at me, okay?” I hop onto the counter to sit. “There’s a Tinfoil Hat Society at the bookstore down the block from the art gallery, and every week they meet to talk about a different conspiracy theory. I signed us up.”
Rett laughs and groans. “No way. Really? This is going to be like The Oak Island saga from two years ago all over again, isn’t it?”
