Trail of Secrets (13 page)

I waited around after school for Ambie. She'd gone to speak with her math teacher about an assignment and was taking longer than I thought she would. Most of the kids had already left, and I was starting to wonder if I should just head out. I'd promised Roxie we'd go over her homework before dinner. I was pretending to be interested in posters on the wall near the office when I heard someone behind me clearing his throat. I spun around.

“I wanted to, uh, let you know I never doubted you could win that race, Bannon.” Mr. Jacks stood in front of me carrying his briefcase in one hand and a soccer ball under his other arm. He was wearing a red sweatshirt, powder blue track pants and a black and white striped headband. The guy just didn't have any feel for coordinated outfits.

“Thanks, sir,” I said, but I was still a little angry with him. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked, “Why did you talk like I was going to humiliate myself?”

His stern blue eyes met mine. “ 'Cause I wanted you to step up to the plate and give it full effort. Figured you needed a reason to show someone what you could do. Worked, didn't it?” A smile transformed his features for a second, then he walked past me to the front doors, not waiting for my reaction.

I watched him leave and felt my own lips curve up into a smile. “You drive me crazy, Mr. Jacks,” I said. “Craaaaaazy.”

I ended up walking home without Ambie. She'd know that I hadn't waited because she was taking so long, and I'd told her Roxie was waiting for me at home. I looked up at the sky through the trees lining the street and saw dark clouds scudding in from the east. The wind had come up since lunchtime, and I wished I'd put on my warmer jacket when I'd left the house for school. I would have jogged home, but I was carrying a heavy knapsack with my homework. The excitement of winning the race had worn off too, and I was feeling tired and a little achy.

I called out for Roxie as I opened the front door with my house key.

“In the kitchen,” she called back, and I followed the smell of hot chocolate to find her at the kitchen table with two steaming mugs on a place mat in front of her. She looked at me, “I had the water on boil and watched for you out the living room window. You're late.” Her eyes were reproachful.

“Sorry. Oh, you are some kind of wonderful,” I said, dropping my bag onto the floor and slipping into a chair. I wrapped my hands around the mug and lifted it to my nose. “Mmmm. Chocolate.” I took a few sips. “How was
your day? Did your presentation go well?”

“Mrs. Stoyko called.”

“And?”

“Mr. Stoyko won't be home until Monday at the earliest. He's had a setback.”

“That's too bad,” I said. “I'm sure he'll be fine, though.”

Roxie looked at me for a second like she was trying to organize something in her brain. “Usually, when somebody's done something nice for me, they've wanted something back. I can't figure out what's in it for you and your family. The Stoykos get paid to take me in, so that makes sense.”

“We don't want anything from you.” I wondered why Roxie was questioning us all of a sudden.

She studied me a moment longer. I noticed she'd caked on the mascara and eyeliner again. She hadn't done that for several weeks. Then she said, “Every time I've thought it might work out for me, something's gone bad. If Mr. Stoyko dies, I won't be too surprised. It's not good to get attached to anyone.”

“He's not going to die. You can't think that way.”

“I'm going to lie down,” Roxie said, standing and stretching her arms over her head. “I'm tired and don't feel like working tonight.”

“But Roxie, we should talk about this.”

“Not now, Jen. I really don't feel so great.”

“But don't you want your hot chocolate?”

Roxie reached over and grabbed the mug handle. “I'll drink it in my room.”

Dad phoned to say that he'd be working late, and I never got a chance to tell him my worries about Roxie,
who'd spent the entire evening shut away in her room. Dad slept through breakfast the next day, and Roxie spent a really long time in the bathroom, so I missed another opportunity to talk to them before I left for school.

“Everyone's gotten all weird,” I muttered to myself. “Roxie's retreated, Ambie's keeping secrets, Pete's got a new life, Dad's turned into a workaholic, and who knows what's up with Evan. The world has gone mad.”

When I went to bed that night, I was no closer to any answers. Those were to start coming on Friday.

I waited twenty minutes for Ambie in our meeting spot next to the oak tree until I couldn't wait any longer without being late for class. I took one last look up the street and slowly started towards the main entrance. Ambie hadn't told me she was going to be away, so maybe she was just running late. This was the first week her mom started working at the bakery, and the Guido family schedule might have been thrown off. It wasn't like Ambie to be late, though. She was pretty self-sufficient.

I met Evan at the door to our classroom. His blonde hair was newly trimmed, and his blue eyes looked rested.

“You look well today,” I said.

“Yeah. I'm feeling a lot better. You look a little worried.”

“No, it's nothing. Just that Ambie was supposed to meet me before school, and she never showed up.”

“She might have just gotten held up.”

“You're probably right, but it's not like her.”

“Move along, kids. Find your seats,” Mr. Williams said as he wiped off the chalk board.

I started towards my desk. When I glanced back at Evan, I realized he'd never admitted before that he wasn't feeling well. Had he been sick?

The class seemed to drag. Mr. Williams spent the
entire period lecturing about matter and energy exchange in ecosystems. “The biosphere is made up of biomes, each containing many different ecosystems,” he began. I'd have to say that was the most understandable part of his lesson. Mr. Williams was famous for talking over our heads, and I knew I'd have to read the chapter if I wanted to understand anything about ecosystems.

I looked over at Toby Manning. His eyes had closed by minute five of the lecture. By the ten minute mark, he was snoring softly, and his friends were pelting him with spitballs whenever Mr. Williams turned to write something on the board. I wasn't surprised when six names were called out for detention at the end of the period, including Toby's.

Evan was waiting for me at the door. “I'm not going to miss these lessons when we move,” he said.

“That's right. This was your last biology class.”

We started walking down the hall. I spotted Cindy and Rosemary with their heads together standing next to the water fountain. Cindy saw me and said something to Rosemary, as if they were having an argument. Evan looked over at them too.

“I wonder what that's all about,” I said under my breath.

“They probably don't like seeing you associating with me,” Evan said. “I've been told I have a reputation.”

“They're not like that. Besides, your reputation is more on the mysterious side.”

Evan grinned at me. “See you later, Jennifer.”

“See you.” I was almost at Madame Grégoire's door when I heard Cindy call my name. She was standing near the lockers across the hall, and Rosemary wasn't with her.
I stepped around a few groups of students to stand in front of her.

“What's up, Cindy?” I asked

Cindy twirled a strand of red hair as she spoke. Her eyes were worried. “Rosemary said I shouldn't say anything, but I thought you should know.”

“Know what? Is this about Ambie?”

“Yeah. It's about Ambie.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Not really, but I know she's meeting her dad.”

“Mr. Guido? Is that why she's late?” I was starting to sound like a game show where they ask questions for points. Getting information out of Cindy was hard work.

“No, her real dad. We wouldn't have known, except Rosemary read an e-mail Ambie'd printed off when we were over visiting a few days ago. The note was lying by Ambie's phone. She made us promise not to tell.”

I grabbed Cindy's arm. “Where did Ambie say she was meeting him? You have to think—it's important.”

“I . . . she never said. I don't know,” Cindy wailed. “Oh, my god. Is Ambie in trouble?”

I tried to calm down. “No, nothing like that. You did the right thing telling me.”

Cindy looked relieved. “Well, gotta go. See you later, Jennifer.” She spun around and sped away without looking back.

I turned to go into Madame Grégoire's classroom but knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate. Instead I slipped past the door and ran towards the nearest side door out of the building. I needed to find Ambie before she got
herself into something she might regret.

I slung my knapsack over my shoulder and started running as fast as I could towards Ambie's house. She lived closer to the school than I did, and I was at her back door within fifteen minutes. I knocked sharply on the window, already knowing that Ambie's parents were at work. I was half-hoping Ambie would answer the door, but no such luck. I dropped my bag and darted over to Mrs. Guido's herb garden. Kneeling down, I felt under the rock border until my fingers wrapped around a key. I pulled it out and raced back to the house.

Once inside, I checked the kitchen and saw a note lying on the table. I picked it up. It was addressed to Ambie's parents. I hesitated for a second but knew I had to find out what Ambie had written. I unfolded it and read. It was worse than I thought. Ambie had lied and said she was spending the night with Rosemary to work on a project and watch a movie. She also said she'd phone around suppertime. I folded the note and put it back on the table.

Then I jogged down the hall to Ambie's room. I took a quick survey of her things but nothing looked out of place. She'd made her bed and folded her pajamas on the chair under the window. She was always tidier than me—something we used to joke about. I turned on her computer, and while it was starting up, I checked through her papers. The e-mail that Rosemary had seen didn't look to be anywhere around. I checked the floor and in the garbage but found nothing.

I clicked on her e-mail and skimmed the incoming messages. There was nothing from Martin Donaldson.
The folder titled Research was empty of messages. Ambie had cleaned it out. I was luckier when I clicked on the folder marked “trash”. She'd emptied it recently but had missed an e-mail from Martin Donaldson dated the night before. I said a silent prayer and clicked it open.

Dearest Ambie
,

I'm so looking forward to seeing you tomorrow! You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you again for sending the loan—I'm really upset with my Hong Kong bank for tying up my money like they have, but I'll be paying you back with interest. Without your help, we'd have had to wait until next year, I'm afraid. I'm working on a project that's taking all my time and resources
.

Well I shouldn't go on about money when what I'm really interested in is you and our visit! My flight gets in at three—Air Canada flight 320. I'll meet you just outside the baggage claim. (You'll know me by my big, happy smile.) Seriously, I have the picture you sent and will have no trouble picking you out. We'll have a nice meal, and Suki and I'll rent a car and drive you back to Springhills whatever time you like. I've booked a place nearby for a few days
.

See you soon

Martin (Dad)

I gulped and pressed print. Then I started the internet and checked Air Canada flights. Flight 320 was coming
from Calgary and landing at Toronto Airport. I printed the flight information too then shut down the computer. I'd have to go home, get some money and figure out how to get to Toronto. Ambie had a few hours head start on me, but at least now I knew where to find her.

I was out of breath by the time I entered our front hallway. I dropped my knapsack near the door—it had started to feel like a sack of cement—and skidded down the hallway towards the kitchen. I almost collided with Roxie, who was taking a bite out of a peanut butter sandwich just inside the kitchen doorway.

“Umph,” she grunted. She swallowed and said, “Geez, where's the fire?”

I took a step backwards. “It's Ambie,” I gasped. “She's gone to Toronto to meet her real dad. I think something is wrong.”

“Ambie doesn't question people's motives very often, does she?” Roxie said, her eyes narrowing. “Is this the father she's never seen?”

I nodded, trying to keep the panic from getting higher than my esophagus. “His name's Martin Donaldson. He's been e-mailing her but asked her not to tell anybody. It looks like she's sent him some money, not a good sign. Ambie's wanted to meet her real father as far back as I can remember . . .”