“Hartley,” Mr. Tipkins said, coming up beside me. He’d thrown a sports jacket over his usual dumpy uniform, the elbows accented with plaid patches.
I cleared my throat. “Hi.”
“How is your story coming along for the paper?”
I nodded. “Fine. Good.”
“Ashley tells me she got a text saying that you know who killed Sydney.”
“We’re getting very close,” I hedged. Which, if tonight was successful, was the truth.
He frowned. “So does that mean you also know how my test answers got out?”
I bit my lip. “Not yet, but we’re almost there.” Another stretch, but if the two went hand in hand like we thought they did, it was possible I might have an answer by the end of the night.
“I have a bad feeling someone may have tried to get to my tests a couple nights ago,” he said.
I froze. “Uh, you do?” I asked, my voice going an octave higher than usual.
He nodded, a grave look on his face. “The door to my classroom was unlocked. As was my file cabinet.”
“Really?” Minnie Mouse squeaked out.
“Really. You don’t happen to have an idea who might have done that, do you?”
“Me?”
“Your voice okay?”
I cleared my throat.
“I mean, why do you think I might?” I asked, feeling a guilty blush creep up my neck.
He shrugged. “You’re investigating the whole thing. I thought you might have turned up some information.”
I shook my head so hard I felt my tiara go crooked. “Nope. Not me. Sorry. No idea about how that might have happened. A couple nights ago, you say? I was home. Yep, at home. Nope. Sorry.”
He gave me a funny look, but nodded again. “Okay. Well, please let me know as soon as you learn anything new.”
I nodded, feeling that tiara slip again.
“Yep. I totally will,” I promised.
Which was almost true. If tonight went well, I’d be letting everyone know who Sydney’s killer was.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE REST OF THE EVENING MOVED BY IN FAST-FORWARD. WE danced some more, ate some more, then danced again, all the while keeping our eyes peeled for anyone with murderous intentions. (At one point Kyle swore Sam’s dad was going to kill him for kissing her on the cheek, but that didn’t really count.) Halfway through the night, the music finally stopped and Mrs. Bailey’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to announce this year’s Herbert Hoover High homecoming court!”
A roar went up from the crowd, everyone immediately pushing toward the front of the room.
“Before we begin,” Mrs. Bailey said, hovering near a microphone center stage, “I want to take a moment to remember a former Herbert Hoover High student, Sydney Sanders.”
A hush went over the crowd, instantly dropping the party level in the room about fifty notches.
“Sydney may not always have been a model student,” Mrs. Bailey went on, alluding to her cheating, “but she was an enthusiastic participant in so many after-school activities, and never lacked in school spirit. So I’d like us all to take a brief moment of silence for Sydney.”
She bowed her head and the audience did the same, the only sound in the echoing cafeteria the rustle of taffeta. In the silence I could almost feel the weight of finding Sydney’s killer pressing down on me. He, or she, was somewhere in this room. I was sure of it.
“And now,” Mrs. Bailey said moments later, breaking the silence, “on to the homecoming nominees!”
A roar of excitement went up again, almost louder than the first time, as if people needed to ramp the energy up that much higher to chase the sadness from the room.
“First we’ll start with our princesses and princes,” Mrs. Bailey said, reading off a piece of paper as she leaned down into the microphone. “Our first royal couple is… David Hech and Cori Cooper!”
I watched the soccer player-Color Guard girl combo do some fist pumping and knuckle bumping with their friends as they jogged up the steps to the stage where last year’s royal court was waiting with crowns and sashes.
“Next we have… Jenni Pritchard and Connor Crane! Come on up, kids!”
I scanned the room for the now non-couple. Jenni gave her date a kiss on the cheek before eagerly bounding to the stage. Connor, on the other hand, looked like he’d just been punched. All his scheming to win king and here he was a lowly prince. I would have felt sorry for him, but I knew at the end of the night he’d be going home with his one true love anyway: himself.
“And last but not least, I’d like to introduce to you our Herbert Hoover High School homecoming king and queen…” She paused, pulling her glasses up to read the names.
The entire school leaned forward as one, waiting to hear the announcement.
“Well, look at that. It’s a write-in couple. Samantha Kramer and Kyle Lowe!”
“Ohmigod!” Sam jumped up next to me, grabbing my arm in a vice grip. “Ohmigod. Ohmigod… Did you hear that? I think she called my name. Ohmigod!” She squealed so loud I thought I might bust an eardrum as she danced from foot to foot and grabbed onto Kyle’s lapels.
“Dude, we are, like, the hottest couple in school!” Kyle said.
“Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”
I couldn’t help smiling as I watched Sam and Kyle run up the stairs to the stage amid a roar of applause from the crowd to receive their crowns. Kyle’s was a short, sparkling thing that looked like it belonged in a kid’s dress-up box, and Sam’s rivaled anything I’d ever seen on Toddlers & Tiaras, standing a good two feet above her natural hair.
Last year’s queen put a sash over Sam’s head, and Kyle and Sam held hands, grinning from ear to ear as the crowd cheered.
“Congratulations, Samantha and Kyle,” Mrs. Bailey said into the microphone again. Though above the roar of the crowd still clapping, it was almost a lost cause. “Now we’d love to have all the couples on the dance floor join our king and queen in their first royal dance.”
Slow music erupted from the speakers, a soft Jason Mraz song. The crowd settled down, dispersing, as people paired into twos, standing close to each other and swaying back and forth. Sam and Kyle descended the stage stairs and took up a spot in the center of the dance floor, one hand on each other, the other on their massive crowns to keep them from falling off.
I turned to go find another glass of Mango Madness when I felt Chase’s hand on my arm.
“Hey. Where are you going?”
I glanced at the dance floor. “Well, it’s only for couples.”
Chase raised an eyebrow at me. “You are my date.”
I blinked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking.
He grinned, a lopsided thing that showed off a dimple in his left cheek. “Come on. Dance with me, Featherstone.”
I pursed my lips together, tasting lipstick. “Okay. I guess.”
Chase took my hand in his, and I instantly felt goose bumps break out, shivering down my bare arms. Must have been a sudden gust of wind. Certainly couldn’t have anything to do with how warm his hands felt. How strong. How intimate.
Yep. Just the wind.
I gulped down a wave of apprehension as Chase moved in close, putting both hands at my waist. His palms were so hot, I was sure they were making smoldering handprints there. I ignored the sensation, focusing on moving my feet a few inches at a time to the left, letting Chase lead me in slow circles as we swayed with the rest of the couples.
“I like the dress,” Chase said, his voice low. “Red’s a good color on you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but only a strangled sort of squeak came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Uh, thanks. You… you look nice, too.”
He grinned, that dimple making an appearance again. “Thanks. I feel kinda ridiculous in this, to be honest.”