Linda looked resigned. “Then you're going to have to start taking Weirsbane again.”
“No!” Jack stood, backing away from them. ”I'm done with that stuff. You promised."
“But, Jack, she's going to suspect something. The change in you has been, well, remarkable.”
“I'm a teenager. Teenagers change.” Jack shook his head. “I won't take it. I mean it. I'd rather die.” Even as he said it, he was a little amazed at himself. He couldn't remember ever saying no to Linda.
Linda looked surprised, also, but kept any comment on it to herself. “All right, Jack. If that's how you feel.”
The week after the Cedar Point trip was exam week, the last week of school. When Will arrived at Jack's house that Monday morning, he found the kitchen door locked. Looking through the screen, he could see Jack with his head down, asleep at the table, his cereal uneaten. Will had to bang on the door several times before Jack awakened, wild-eyed. When Jack saw who it was, he got up and let Will in, relocking the door behind him.
“So you're locking your doors now,” Will observed. He motioned for Jack to finish his cereal and poured himself half a bowl. Jack looked terrible. His black eye was now turning green and yellow. There were dark circles under the other eye. He might be a physical masterpiece, but he looked like an emotional train wreck. “Were you up late studying social studies last night?”
“Social studies? Uh, yeah.” Jack mechanically shoveled soggy cereal into his mouth.
“Fitch says he can get together with us tonight to study math. Ellen can't make it. I guess she has some relatives visiting all week.”
Jack shrugged as if he didn't care one way or the other. “Okay.”
“Listen, Jack.” Will hesitated. “I was wondering if your problem is something the police could help with?”
It seemed to take a moment for Will's words to register. Jack stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I'm wondering if you and your aunt are in some kind of trouble. It seems like every time she visits, things happen.” Jack didn't say anything, so Will hurried on. “My Uncle Ross is a sergeant on the Trinity police force. Maybe we could go talk to him. Just informally, you know. He might be able to give you some advice.”
Jack shook his head. There was an air of resignation about him that bothered Will. “No, it's okay. Everything's going okay,” he repeated unconvincingly. “We're leaving for England in another week or two.”
Will nodded. “Well, you're not the only one who's traveling this summer. Did you know that me and Fitch are going to England, too?”
That roused Jack from his lethargy. “Right. Ellen told me. But I don't know much about it.”
“Mr. Hastings set it up. The Chaucerian Society is spending a month in England. We'll overlap with you, because you'll be there most of the summer, right?”
Jack nodded. “I guess. But how can Fitch afford to go to England?”
“There was some private foundation. Mr. Hastings had us all writing essays. Fitch's was really impressive. We're all getting some support, but he's getting a full scholarship.”
Just then Will heard someone descending the back staircase to the kitchen. It was Linda Downey. Will regarded her with a peculiar mixture of hostility and fascination. Will was convinced that Jack's beautiful aunt was somehow responsible for Jack's troubles.
“Hi, Jack. Hi, Will.” Linda greeted them warmly, but her smile faded when she saw Will's expression. Jack was oblivious. “I'll drive you two boys to school.”
Will was disappointed. He had been hoping for private time to talk to Jack, to try to get to the bottom of the events at Cedar Point, to try to persuade him to talk to Uncle Ross. He couldn't think of any other way to help.
Jack nodded. “Sure, okay,” he said, as if it were all the same to him. “I'll get my book bag.”
Aunt Linda had rented a small silver sports car this trip. Ordinarily, Will would have begged for a chance to drive it, but this time they rode the short distance to Trinity High School in silence. Linda pulled up in front of the high school. As Jack climbed out, Linda leaned back over the gearshift toward Will, speaking so only he could hear. “Please keep an eye on him, Will.”
Will looked up in surprise. She was close, very close; she had those impossibly blue eyes fixed on him, and she looked absolutely serious, almost pleading.
Oh, God, he said to himself, feeling the blood rush to his face.
She extended a slip of paper. “Here's my cell phone number. Call me if anything unusual happens.”
“Sure. Okay.” Their fingers touched as he accepted it. Reluctantly, he slid away, across the seat, and unfolded himself onto the sidewalk. He stood uncertainly, clutching the paper in his hand, watching as Linda drove away.
After that, Will found it difficult to concentrate on his exam, and was almost grateful when time was called. He and Jack turned in their social studies books and walked back to their lockers to collect materials to study for math. Jack's locker was next to Will's, and it was standing open. It looked as if it had been ransacked. “I must have left my locker unlocked,” Jack said to Will, shaking his head. “I'm really losing it.”
And then suddenly Penworthy was there. “Mr. Swift, I need you to come to the office immediately.” Penworthy looked so nervous he was literally twitching.
Jack blinked at him. “Is it about my locker?”
“You might say so.” The principal's mouth twisted up into a knot of distaste whenever he stopped speaking.
“It's all right,” Jack reassured him. “I don't think anything's missing.”
“I told you to come with me,” the principal repeated. “You can leave your things here.” Something in his tone made Will swing around to watch. Penworthy was practically pushing Jack down the hallway, and Jack was looking back over his shoulder at Will. Mystified, Will trailed along at a discreet distance. The principal hurried Jack to the front of the building and into the administrative office. Will walked into the outer office just in time to see Penworthy's inner office door close. The secretary looked up inquiringly.
“Uh, I'm waiting for someone to pick me up,” Will said. He sat down in a chair by the door. “They'll be here any minute.” Linda's words came back to him. Keep an eye on him, Will. She was counting on him. He didn't plan on leaving until he found out what was going on.
When Jack entered the principal's office, he saw two men seated at a small table. They were dressed casually in sweatshirts and jeans. Both looked to be in their thirties, rather rough looking. One was dark with a stubble of beard, and the other was blond and clean shaven with a prominent scar that ran down his jawline. Both looked like they worked out. They rose in unison with matching puzzled expressions when Jack came into the room. “You're sure this is him?” one of them asked Penworthy, nodding at Jack.
“This is Jackson Swift,” Penworthy said deferentially. He sat down behind his desk and motioned Jack to an empty chair across the table from the two men. Jack took the seat, watching the two men warily. The men studied him as if they were seeing something unexpected.
Each of the strangers produced a leatherette folder that flipped open to reveal a badge. The dark man spoke. “Jack, I'm Brad Hansford, this is Mike Sowicky. We're with Narcotics, Trinity Police Department. We'd like you to answer a few questions.”
Jack was baffled. He knew several of the police officers on the Trinity force, including Will's uncle Ross, but he'd never seen either of these two before. He looked from one to the other of the men, and then over at Penworthy. The principal's hands were leaving damp spots on the desk blotter. “What's this all about?”
Sowicky spoke up this time. “Jack, we searched your locker this morning and we found this.” He tossed two plastic bags onto the table. One contained a green leafy material, the other a handful of pills and capsules.
“Wait a minute!” Jack protested. ”I never saw that stuff before in my life."
“That's why we want to talk to you, Jack. We'd like to clear this up.” It was Hansford, the dark detective again. His voice was soothing.
Jack's mind was slow to process, empty of useful thought. “Why were you searching my locker?” he asked finally, buying time.
“We received a tip that you might be involved in drug trafficking,” Sowicky said. “So we contacted Mr. Penworthy, here. He's been a great help.” He smiled at the principal, who looked distressed and important at the same time.
“Look, you have the wrong person. I don't sell drugs!” Dreaming. I must be dreaming again, Jack told himself. Only, how to wake himself up?
“Where'd you get the black eye,Jack?” Sowicky asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Jack started to say something, but thought better of it. He knew he was in serious trouble, and he couldn't understand why. Who would want to plant drugs in his locker? Sure, there were some people who wanted him dead and others who wanted to take him captive, but why would anyone want him to go to jail? He struggled to think clearly, but his brain seemed unusually sluggish.
These would be undercover cops, given the way they were dressed. But weren't they supposed to offer him a lawyer before they started asking questions? He tried to puzzle it out, but his mind wouldn't respond.
Hansford was speaking again. “Why don't we go down to the station house, ask you a few questions. We've already called your parents.They said they'd meet us down there.”
“But I have an exam in two hours! ”Jack said, then felt stupid that he'd said it.
Hansford smiled. He was definitely the friendlier of the two. “With any luck, we'll clear this up, and you'll be back here in time to take it.”
Jack closed his eyes. Something fluttered in the back of his mind, like tiny wings. No, not wings. Words. A soothing litany. Go to the station house. Talk about it. Everything will be fine. He stiffened. They said they'd talked to his parents. But his dad was in Boston. Not a chance they'd spoken with him. And his mother would insist on driving him herself.