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“Oh, sure thing, Callie.” Lavinia offers a saccharine smile.
I’m used to saccharine smiles from B-listers—the A-list wannabes. They’re nice to me because I’m Rory’s sister. Jordan’s cousin. I’m related to A-listers, though I don’t make the cut myself.
They won’t tell me what they hear. Why should they? I wouldn’t either. If I find out who’s responsible, I’ll go running to the Steels to capture that reward.
And I plan to do exactly that.
The shriek… The horrific shriek of Karen’s drill.
It won’t be long now. Within seconds, Rory and I will know if our evidence is still in this safe-deposit box.
Images float through my head. After that conversation in the bathroom, when ten thousand dollars clouded my brain and I was determined to find out who was behind the hairy buffalo. I prepared to investigate, but I needn’t have bothered.
The investigation came to me.
Being invisible has its perks.
Perks I put to good use.
Sure, I was on the homecoming court, but by Monday morning, I was plain old Callie Pike again. Snow Creek is a small town, and I’m the kind of person who listens. Who observes. Another perk of being invisible. No one sees me, but I see everything. I hear everything.
And I’ve got all my senses on alert for ten grand.
I didn’t see who spiked the hairy buffalo Friday night at the bonfire. But there is one group at Snow Creek High School who tends to be responsible for all the crap.
The FLMC—short for the future lawmakers’ club. It’s a newer club. Rory says they started it her freshman year, so it’s only three years old. It’s supposedly for people who want to go into law enforcement or into law. Except it’s not. Not at all.
The law has always been my calling, so last year, when I was a freshman, I attended a meeting of the FLMC. We didn’t talk about law at all. We talked about how to stick it to the man.
I wasn’t interested in sticking it to anyone, so I never went to another meeting. Soon after that, the club became invite only, but it’s not an exclusive club—not by a long shot. Anyone can get an invite, but you have to prove you’re willing to stick it to the man. What this entails, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.
FLMC takes credit for a lot of the crap that goes on at Snow Creek High. I don’t even know who all the members are, but I’m willing to bet I’ll find the culprit among that group.
Except I don’t need to research the FLMC, because the answer comes to me.
Yes, being invisible has its perks.
After school later in the week, I’m still sitting in my algebra classroom, going through my backpack, which is a mess. Mr. Frost, the algebra teacher, has left the room and so has everyone else. Algebra is my last class of the day, so the halls are bustling with people checking their lockers and then leaving the school grounds.
That’s when I hear the voices.
“Yeah, we need to keep it under wraps.”
“I don’t know, man. The Steels… They can find out anything.”
“Why the hell did you let her drink that shit?”
“Hey, man, I thought it was just alcohol.”
“Bullshit. What was that stuff, Lamone?”
My ears perk. Pat Lamone. The male homecoming attendant for the junior class, who’s been trying to date Rory for months.
A short pause, and then, “The dude told me it was angel dust.”
“What the fuck?” another voice says. “You could get in some deep shit.”
“I won’t, and you won’t, as long as we don’t tell anyone.”
