“A mistake I won’t be making again, I assure you. I don’t offer my friends up as sacrificial lambs.”
“Oh, no?” I said. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re known for doing, you and your string of fake girlfriends? You even wanted me to join their ranks.”
“That was different.”
“You bet it was!” I crossed my arms. “You used people terribly. I never lied to anyone, and what’s more, I was having fun, too.” Which was more than I could say for Malcolm and his beards.
“Oh, so because you lay down all your parameters in advance, that makes it okay? Guess George Prescott taught you a lot after all.”
My mouth dropped open. “How dare you try to take the moral high ground with me? You broke Genevieve’s heart. Willingly. Cavalierly.” I shook my head. “Are you saying the difference is that she wasn’t a Digger, and so wasn’t supposed to have the same courtesy? Is that why you didn’t tap her?” Is that why I was standing here right now?
Malcolm was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, all the anger was gone from his voice. “I regret so much what I did to Genevieve. I cared about her a lot, and you’re absolutely right. I hurt her, and I shouldn’t have. It was a cruel thing to do and I will never do something like that again.” He scrutinized me. “So you see now—”
“No,” I said. “It’s not the same.” And it didn’t matter anyway. Poe and I were through.
He sighed. “Fine. Screw it. You don’t listen to me, he doesn’t listen to me. I’m not a fucking babysitter. What was it you wanted to ask me?”
“If Jamie’s a vegetarian.”
He stood there for a second, blinking at me. “Yeah, you clearly care for him so much. You don’t even know something like that?”
“I thought I did.” And in my defense, he wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming individual on the planet.
“He is. Why?”
“Did he eat the lobster last night?”
Now Malcolm stepped back, eyes wide, face a mask of disbelief. “What the hell is your problem? Let it go already! So you all got food poisoning. What’s the big deal?”
“Did he?” I pressed.
“I have no idea! I don’t calorie count other people’s plates.”
“Try to remember,” I said, urging.
Malcolm threw his hands in the air. “Probably not. Vegetarians don’t tend to go for things with faces, remember?” At least that was something we had in common. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “Because he told us all that he had been eating it. Last night when he was busy insisting we were a bunch of paranoid freaks. Curious, don’t you think?”
And I walked away.
I don’t know if Malcolm talked to Poe before lunch, or if the seed I planted had any effect at all on my big sib. But, as I lingered over my grilled-cheese-with-tomato and chocolate milk, I noted the following:
1) Malcolm and Poe were sitting on opposite sides of the room.
2) Jenny and Harun were the only knights of D177 who hadn’t made it in for lunch.
3) Frank and Kadie Myer had not yet left.
The dining room was packed to the brim, as if no one wanted to miss out on a hot lunch and be relegated to fending for themselves with questionable deli meat for the rest of the afternoon. They’d planned an island-wide barbecue for dinner, and Salt had only recently returned from the mainland, the small boat packed full of ribs, steaks, burgers, and fixings. Even Darren Gehry was present again, having apparently recovered from his bout with food poisoning as well. I watched him finish his third cupcake—iced in Eli blue frosting—and proceed to sweet talk Cook into letting him into the kitchen to lick the bowl. I chuckled when she capitulated. Apparently, she had a soft spot for boys with attitude problems.
“Change your mind?” I overheard another patriarch ask Frank toward the end of the meal. “I’m so glad to see it!”
“Nah,” Frank said. “We’re just having a little bit of engine trouble and I want to take a look at it before we sail out. Just in case.”
Engine trouble? Why in the world would Demetria do something to the Myers that caused them to remain on the island? And even if she had a good reason, it seemed a bit beyond her to dismantle a ship’s engine. When I looked back at Demetria, her grin had vanished, and as I watched, she excused herself from the table. I pursed my lips. Could no one in this organization be trusted anymore?
(Yes, okay, fine, it’s not like I haven’t kept my own secrets.)
“Dee, wait up,” I said to her on the porch. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said without looking at me.
I took the steps down to the path. “This is going to sound crazy but…you didn’t sabotage the Myers’ boat, did you?”
She stopped and looked at me. “Amy, please, like I’d want them here any longer?”
“That’s what I thought but…we all know you did something.”
She bit her lip, then leaned her head in close. “Yeah, I did, but you can’t tell anyone.”
“That’s what my oaths are for,” I said, putting my hand over my heart.
“Okay, so the idiot left her shampoo in the shower house last night. Her name was right on it in black marker. Some designer product, sixty bucks an ounce. I just refilled the bottle with Nair.”
I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. “You didn’t!” Maybe I was growing paranoid after all. Why in the world would I suspect my fellow Diggirl of doing something so hard-core as destroying a yacht?
“Who knows if it will work, but I couldn’t resist getting back at her.” She glanced over her shoulder at the shower house. “But now I’m worried that she forgot to pack it.”
“Let’s double check!” We took off for the shower house, laughing all the way. This was what a society prank was really like. No nonsense about sabotaging gazillion-dollar boat engines. Just some hair remover in the beauty products. No vast, month-long conspiracies against the girl trying to steal your boyfriend. Simply break into her society’s tomb and wreak havoc.
We’d just reached the door to the showers when a shout rent the air.
“Nooooooooo!” We froze, looked around. Where was that coming from?
“Oh, no! Help! Help! This is a travesty! This is the last straw!” On our left, the door to the tomb burst open and Salt came running out, his face a mask of hysteria, his shouts so loud they were almost hurting my eardrums.
At the main house, people had moved to the windows or spilled out onto the porch to see what all the fuss was about. Demetria and I trailed Salt up the path, where he’d ground to a halt at the base of the steps, still shouting at the top of his lungs, but so incoherently I couldn’t follow a word he was saying. He held something white in his hands, but was waving it around so fast I couldn’t get a good look.
“Total destruction…last straw…how could they…abominable…really have to call the police this time…”
“Salt, Salt,” Malcolm said, hands extended, palms down. “What are you talking about? Did someone break into the tomb?”
“Yes!” And now he threw whatever he was holding onto the steps, where it struck with a loud crack and shattered. And I saw what they were. Broken bits of china. With little tiny swastikas on them.
“The whole set is smashed. Destroyed.”
Oh my God. I looked up at Poe, and he was staring at me, too, his expression utterly unreadable.
“Eww, what is this, Nazi memorabilia?” Demetria said. “Good riddance, I say!” Guess she hadn’t seen them on the tour after all.
“Miss!” Salt said, turning on her. “This is the island’s property. It’s a monument to the hard work and sacrifice of one of our own in service to our country.”
Jenny looked confused. “Hitler?”
Harun patted her on the shoulder. “I think he means a Digger in the army during World War II.”
“That’s not the point!” Malcolm said. “Someone broke into the tomb. That’s the point.”