Alibi High

“How many acts were there? ” she asked. “ Three?

”

I gave her a withering stare. “Ha. Funny. I don't recall how many there were, but I do know that my friends and I came in second place for doing an amazing air guitar lip-synch version of Guns N Roses' “ ' Welcome To The Jungle. ” '”

She stared blankl y at me. “Guns and what?”

“Roses. Probably the most influential rock band of the modern era.”

She scowled at me over her plate. “Yeah, I've never heard of them, so they are probably lame .” ,” she said, scowling over her plate.

“Wrong,” I said. “They were the opposite of lame. The opposite of Justin Bieber and One Direction.”

“Like I even like them.”

“You get my point,” I said. “And as a concession to you, I will let you choose the music that we perform to.”

She grunted. “Great.”

“ So before we have dinner tonight, I will need an answer,” I said. “Deal?” And keep your phone.” She looked up and I added, “Provided you give me the name of the song we're doing. Tonight. At dinner.”

“ Whatever.” She sighed. “Fine.”

“ No. Deal?” I asked, pressing her. “I get the name of the song we're doing and you keep your phone.”

She pushed her plate away like she was about to vomit . “Fine. Deal.”

“ I'm glad to see you're warming to this Good ,” I said , smiling . It pained me a little to see her so obviously put out but she was being way too melodramatic for my taste. “Now, I need a little more help.”

If I'd stabbed her in the ribs, she would've looked less put out. “Now what?”

“I need the names of a couple of teachers who you think would might make good performers,” I said. “Teachers who are either popular or ones who you think who would be fun to see onstage.”

She drank some of her orange juice. “I don't know.”

“You know, we can just do the same number I did in high school . ,” I told her. “ Get some bandanas, some ripped shirts — ”

“ Oh god,” Emily s aid, shaking hook her head and staring up at the ceiling. “Fine. Fine. Did you ask Mr. Pendleton? He's not a total weirdo.”

I made a mental note of his name. “What does he teach?”

“History,” she said. “I haven't had him, but kids like him.”

“I have no n' t asked him, but I will today,” I said. “Who else?”

She thought for a moment. “Did you talk to Ms. Nordhoff?”

“She can't be there.”

Emily frowned. “I thought everyone , like, had to be there.”

“She has a prior commitment,” I explained. “She's playing in some poker tournament for charity and she can't get out of it.”

Emily snorted and the first thing resembling something that resembled a smile flitted across her mouth. “For charity? Yeah, right.”

“That's what she said,” I told her. “Some charity tournament for a friend that she committed to awhile ago.”

She snorted again. “I'm guessing the charity is her.”

“What are you talking about?”

She stabbed her fork into her waffle and took a bite. “She's practically, like, a professional poker player, Mom.”

I remembered Charlotte telling me that she didn't even know what she was doing and that she'd just signed up as a favor to a friend. “What?”

Emily nodded. “She's always playing on her computer. I know at least four people who say they've been in her office and seen it on her screen or like minimized on her screen or whatever. But she was playing online. And then Denny Bateman said his parents saw her up at River Star , at least twice. a couple of times. Denny said his dad actually played in a game with her. They sat at the same table or something. Denny said his dad said she was the best player at the table.” Emily smirked. “So I guarantee you she's not playing in some charity tournament. Or if she is, she can probably win money for herself. She's a total gambler.”

I leaned back in my chair. That was completely at odds with the way Charlotte had portrayed her involvement with whatever it was she was playing in the tournament . I wondered if what Emily had heard were rumors that had simply grown in size or if there was any truth to them. And if the re was truth to them y weren't rumors , why had Charlotte lied to me? I supposed that it could have been that she Perhaps she simply didn't want hadn't wanted to tell me she couldn't be at the fundraiser and was . Maybe that was her way of trying to let me down easy. Either way, the whole story that Emily had just told me was kind of odd.

Just like the rest of my week at Prism.

Emily pushed back from the table and picked up her plate. “Do we have to wear costumes?”

“What?”

“For the stupid lip synch thing,” she said, glaring at me again. “Do we have to wear costumes?”

“ Well, I don't think we should perform in the nude. That's not what we're going for here... ”

“Mom.”

“Yes, we should have some sort of costume,” I told her. “We can't just wing it.”

She stared at me for a long moment . , her eyes filling with tears.

“You know this is going to ruin my life, right?” she said. “Like, I might have to change schools or something.”

I tried not to feel like the worst mom ever. She was great at putting on guilt trips. “Or you'll be the most popular girl in school after we totally rock the talent show !” ,” I said, pasting a bright smile on my face.

She stared at me again . , then turned on her heel and headed for her room. But not before I heard the words she muttered on her way out.

Then she headed for her room.

“These are the days I'm convinced I'm adopted ,” she muttered . ”

THIRTY ONE

I fed the troops The other three kids woke up and Emily and I dished waffles on to their plates and chatted with them for a few minutes before Jake announced it was time to leave . Emily was already out the door and I waited until Jake's car left before grabbing my stuff and heading to the school. announced she was riding with me to Prism. I thought it might be so we could discuss costume possibilities, but it turned out she was just running behind and thought she might've already missed the bus.

I chose to pretend she wanted to ride with her mother.

She jumped out of the car before I'd even shut off the engine, therefore saving herself the trauma of being seen with her parent on school grounds. I made a mental note to find her at lunch and give her a giant hug.

The door to the counseling office was already open when I shuffled through the door , but Charlotte wasn't at her desk. I heard the copy machine in the back room running and assumed she was back there. I set my stuff on my desk and walked back toward the humming and clicking of the copier.

It wasn't Charlotte using the machine, though.