“Hey, Genevieve, you missed the drama!”
Genevieve looked up and spotted Carlos Martinez walking across the shop holding hands with Kristin Bourne from her calculus class.
“Hey, guys,” Genevieve said. “Tyler, here are some more regulars you’ll get to know well. Kristin always gets a double scoop of mint chocolate chip, and Carlos is just here for the gossip.” Carlos laughed at that, but Genevieve noticed Kristin’s usually bubbly persona seemed a little flat; she was staring at Tyler with a strange expression on her face, as if she’d recognized him but couldn’t quite place him, and didn’t look happy about it.
Flummoxed, Genevieve turned to Carlos. “Anyway, what drama?”
Kristin shook off her momentary trance and said, with feeling, “Miss Love was in the middle of a lesson and ran out of the room. When she came back it looked like she’d been crying.”
“I think she’s pregnant,” Carlos said.
“I heard there was a fight between her and Ms. Pierce,” jumped in another girl Genevieve didn’t know by name. “That horrible sub’s been throwing all kinds of shade to Miss Love.”
“Well, yeah, she’s furious she didn’t get the job,” Carlos said, snickering.
“Like we’d want to be stuck with her every day,” the other girl said, and began mimicking Ms. Pierce in a cruelly accurate impression.
“Guys,” Genevieve protested, but just then a deafening crash resounded behind her and she leaped forward with a little yelp. Someone else shrieked and Genevieve spun around to see Tyler standing directly behind her, an alarming scowl on his face. He’d broken something and blood dripped from his hand, which was closing into a fist. He looked as if he were about to leap over the counter and punch someone with it.
“Are you all right?” Genevieve asked shakily, but instead of answering her he stormed off into the back of the store, leaving behind a trail of blood.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DISAPPEARANCE
“Maybe he was just mad when he saw the ‘now hiring’ sign in the much more dignified bookstore across the street,” joked Brandon the next morning. “After all, working at a well-respected establishment like Hidden Treasures is more manly than slinging scoops at a floofy ice cream shop.”
Genevieve glared at him from the corner of his shabby brown couch, where she’d just polished off a plateful of Mrs. Summers’s French toast. “Really, Brandon?”
“Just saying. If I had to wear a pink hat to work, I’d be annoyed too.”
She ignored that. “He looked positively murderous. And bleeding all over the place! What a nightmare. Oh!” Genevieve started at a rapid tumbling sound coming from the stairwell which soon revealed itself as a huge golden-haired dog. The dog bounded toward the couch, sniffed at Genevieve’s plate, and began lapping up the leftover syrup, of which there was precious little.
“Who’s this?” Genevieve cried. “You didn’t tell me you got a pet.” Having cleaned the plate in two seconds flat, the dog now leaped onto the couch next to her and pressed a cold, wet snout under her arm.
“Oh, she’s just a stray.” Brandon powered down his computer and stood up.
“This girl?” Genevieve said, patting the dog’s head and laughing as the feathery blonde tail beat up a cloud of dust from the cushion. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” Brandon zipped up his backpack and swung it onto his shoulder. “My dad found her wandering around outside the store last night. No collar.” He shrugged. “He posted to LostPets and called the shelter this morning. No one’s reported her missing.”
“Huh. Well, someone probably will soon. She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, and a real pain in the butt.” The dog barked and hopped off the couch, sniffing around Brandon’s feet and wagging her tail. He gave her a crooked grin. “I’ve got nothing for you. The food lady’s upstairs.”
Genevieve rose and headed for the stairs. “Will you take her to the shelter then?”
“If no one claims her, I suppose,” Brandon said, following behind her. “My dad’s allergic, so.”
“Oh yeah.”
On the way to school, Brandon started teasing her about Tyler again, and suddenly Genevieve remembered something.
“I forgot to tell you,” she said. “After he stomped away to the back, Kristin pulled me aside and said she recognized him. Apparently, he used to go to Pinewood High and ran with a pretty bad crowd. She says he got into all sorts of trouble, had a really bad temper, and was suspended for fighting.”
“No kidding?” Brandon said. He reached into his backpack, pulled out a granola bar, and began unwrapping it.
“You literally just ate!”
“How’s she know him?” he asked, taking a bite and handing her the other half. It was almond and cranberry, her favorite. She shrugged and took it. “I guess Kristin’s brother hung out with him for a while. He’s four years older, so that makes sense. I think Tyler’s around twenty. Anyway, Kristin says after his last suspension he dropped out of school and moved up north. She says she heard rumors he’d spent some time up there in juvy, and that was the last she knew.”
Brandon huffed out a spray of granola. “And this is the guy your dad hired to protect you from potential criminals? Do you think he knows all this?”
“I mean, it’s my dad. You’d think so.” She maneuvered the car into the Pinewood parking lot. “Anyway, not that people can’t change,” Genevieve added generously. “But he sure looked like he wanted to throw a punch at someone.”
“I wonder what set him off.”
“You and me both.”
Genevieve walked into Economics, flush with anticipation over their supply and demand activity. School would be much more fun if every teacher was like Miss Love and taught with projects and hands-on activities, she thought, and the thought brought inevitable comparisons to Ms. Pierce. She hoped her favorite Pinewood High teacher had recovered from that awful confrontation yesterday with the bullying substitute.
Taking her seat, she pulled out her meticulously color-coded notes, which she’d stayed up until midnight preparing. While waiting, Genevieve paged through them and tried to reformulate her thoughts from the night before. It had sounded much better then, she thought with a frown.
When the bell rang, she looked up, and her frown deepened. Their teacher was nowhere to be seen. Miss Love was always there to greet them at the start of class, but this morning her desk sat vacant. Genevieve glanced around; most of the students were gazing drowsily into their laps at their phones, still half asleep and oblivious to the fact that they seemed to be missing a teacher. She drummed her fingers impatiently on her leg and watched the clock on the wall. One full minute passed, and then two. A handful of latecomers sauntered through the door and paused there, looking puzzled but relieved, then took their seats too.
Carlos Martinez, who sat two seats in front of her, turned and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged. As morning announcements crackled over the PA, more students began to look up in bewilderment. A low buzz of voices murmured and grew louder.
