Plus I’m still exhausted from all my swimming this weekend. Maybe I could catch a quick nap. I drop my head onto Quince’s shoulder, glad that he decided to ditch the leather jacket in the heat, because that means there’s only a thin layer of tee between him and me.
My eyes are closed and I’m just about to drift into dreamland when a loud voice says, “Hi, Brody.”
My shoulders tense.
“Hey, Court,” Brody says.
I sit up straight. Brody’s ex-girlfriend is not my favorite human on the planet. When I had a crush on Brody, she was pretty horrid to me. I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say.
To my utter shock, she turns and saunters over to the next picnic table and sits down with her friends. Is that going to be the end of it? She didn’t even say a word to Doe.
Then it happens.
“I mean, seriously.” Courtney’s voice floats over to our table. “Who carries a briefcase to high school?”
Every eye at our table locks onto Doe, whose briefcase is at her feet.
She meticulously peels the rest of her orange, pulls the segments apart, and sets them on her napkin. Gathering up the peel, she stands.
“I’ll be right back.”
We all watch as she walks over to the nearest trash can. I think I’m holding my breath as she drops the orange rind into the garbage and turns back around. She’s walking so casually, I think she’s going to let it go.
Then, right as she passes the other table, she stops and leans down to whisper in Courtney’s ear.
Courtney’s spine stiffens. She turns and gives Doe a confused look. Doe nods.
I wait for the return fire, for Courtney to throw out some terrible comment in response to whatever Doe just said.
Instead, she nods in return and then turns back to her lunch.
Quince, Shannen, and I exchange stunned looks. We’ve all seen the wraths of Doe and Courtney individually. I think we all expected there to be fireworks when they finally confronted each other. This was . . . kind of anticlimactic.
Doe walks back to our table and takes her seat. I don’t miss the fact that she reaches under the table to take Brody’s hand. I’m amazed by her transformation. Clearly, being with Brody has been good for her.
“What did you say to her?” Shannen asks.
Doe blinks innocently as she says, “I told her if she ever spoke to my boyfriend again, I would send the entire school a picture of her American Girl–themed bedroom.”
Brody shrugs. “I thought it was cute.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Doe finishes. “But I understand it is quite embarrassing.”
We all burst out laughing at Doe’s brilliant blackmail. Leave it to my cousin to figure out how to take on Courtney once and for all.
We finish our lunch in peace and sun worship until the bell rings.
As we are walking back inside, I hear the familiar squawk of a messenger gull. I glance in the direction of the sound and spot it sitting on a hibiscus bush outside a row of classroom windows.
“I’ll meet you inside,” I tell my friends as I drop and pretend to tie my shoelace. “Cover for me.”
Shannen nods and hurries inside. As soon as the doors close behind them and the picnic area is empty, I stand and walk over to the bush. After a quick peek into the window to make sure there isn’t a class inside, I approach the gull.
I do one more quick glance around and then reach forward. The gull holds up its foot to give me better access. I quickly untie the string securing the kelpaper to its leg and remove the scroll.
“Thank you.”
The bird screeches and then flaps its wings, soaring into the sky and toward the ocean.
“Lily?”
I jump at the sound of my name. Spinning, I see Miss Molina standing on the sidewalk near the door I was supposed to have walked through to return from lunch.
“Oh, hi,” I say, quickly shoving the kelpaper into the pocket of my shorts. “I was just, uh, looking at this hibiscus flower.” I reach for the nearest flower, a bright white bloom. “Isn’t it awesome?”
Miss Molina crosses the grass between us, and I think she’s going to inspect the flower. Instead, she asks, “Did you just take something off a seagull’s leg?”
My heart pounds like crazy. “Um, what? No, that’s—”
“I saw you.” She nods at the windows behind the bush. “That’s my classroom. I was at my desk and watched as you walked up to the bird, untied something from its leg, and took off a piece of paper.”
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Think, Lily, think. I have to come up with a believable explanation. One that doesn’t involve mindwashing Miss Molina, because this definitely isn’t a disastrous enough reason to give myself a migraine. Surely I can come up with—
“Is it a pet?” she asks. “I’ve heard that seagulls can be trained, but I always doubted their reliability.”
“Yes!” I practically shout, grateful for her giving me an answer. “My aunt Rachel trained him to bring me messages at school.” I pull the crumpled kelpaper out of my pocket and hold it up as evidence. “Isn’t that cool?”
“Very.” She turns her head in the direction the bird went, like she’s hoping to spot it in the sky. When she doesn’t, she turns back to me. “Very impressive.” Then, as if remembering that I’m a student and not in class, she says, “Shouldn’t you be somewhere?”
“Yes,” I say. “Art. Don’t want to be late.”