What's Your Status? (32 page)

We all nodded and followed Turtell through the door and into the deserted high school.

CHAPTER 19

Song: Keep The Car Running/Arcade Fire

Quote: “Everybody breaks the law.”

—Joseph Cotten,
The Steel Trap

We walked down the dark, silent hallway. I tried my best to concentrate on being quiet, mostly so I wouldn’t think about how much trouble we would all be in if we were found there. It was eerie being in the school at night. There were strange shadows everywhere, and a dense quiet that was never there when classes were in session.

The group of us crossed the student center in silence. It looked absolutely huge, and there was something creepy about seeing it so deserted—almost like a ghost town. When we got closer to the theater, Ginger took the lead, and we walked down the stairs single file, with me bringing up the rear. She led us to the door of the costume vault and took out her keys to open it up. Again, I held my breath, but the door swung open quietly, no alarms tripped.

She stepped in, and then came back and looked at
Turtell. “I need to turn on the light,” she whispered. “I can’t see anything in there.”

“No light,” Turtell said. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I’ve heard a rumor that the lights are all on a grid. If one goes on, there might be a record of it.”

“I can’t do this without light,” Ginger said. “We might as well leave.”

“Wait,” I said, getting an idea and heading for the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Mad, where are you going?” Schuyler hissed at me, but I just kept walking.

I hurried upstairs, across the student center, and to the prom classroom, finding my way by the dim emergency lights and moonlight streaming in through the windows. To my relief, the door was unlocked, and I stepped inside. The prom favors were right where we’d left them. I plundered three gift bags, taking out the flashlight pens, then dropping them into one bag. I closed the door quietly behind me and headed back down to the theater.

The group was still standing outside the costume vault door, and Schuyler was chewing her hair. Everyone seemed slightly more nervous than they had when I’d left them. I handed out the flashlight pens, and Kittson nodded.

“Excellent,” Ginger whispered, clicking hers on. Sarah and Schuyler each took one and turned them on as well. Ginger stepped inside and we followed, the small flashlight beams barely cutting through the cavernous darkness of the costume vault. But it didn’t seem
to bother Ginger. She was utterly in her element. She pointed to one of the rolling metal clothes racks and indicated where she wanted it. I nodded, and Turtell and I wheeled it outside the door.

Ginger began moving at warp speed, rushing around and grabbing clothes off racks, seemingly at random, then tossing them to Sarah or Schuyler. They would then transfer whatever Ginger had just tossed them to the rack outside. In just a few minutes, the rack was filling up with short tutu-style dresses, white suits with pastel T-shirts, a powder blue tuxedo, and lots of lace.

When the rack was almost full Ginger came back out with accessories. She separated out an armful of jewelry—strands of pearls and cross necklaces—and draped them over Sarah’s head. She handed me three pairs of black lace gloves, and I raised my eyebrows, confused. Ginger mimed cutting the fingers off, and I smiled at her.

“Are we done?” Kittson whispered, checking her watch.

Ginger shook her head, holding up one finger. She turned to me, looking at me closely, her head tilted. Then she disappeared into the vault again, her tiny beam of light leading her way. She emerged a moment later with something pink over her arm and nodded at all of us. “Done,” she whispered.

She locked the costume vault behind her, and we wheeled the rack down the hall. When we got to the stairway, we lifted it as a group and maneuvered it up the steps and into the student center. The six of us crossed
the student center, moving quickly, Turtell doing the lion’s share of the work, pulling the rack behind him. When we passed the office, I paused. Kittson slowed as well.

“What?” she whispered.

“You said the voting program was on Dr. Trent’s computer,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “So?”

“So,” I said, “this is our opportunity to find out if someone’s messed with it.”

“Madison,” Ginger called softly. She and the others were several feet in front of us, and everyone had stopped moving. “We should go.”

“We’ll be there in one minute,” I called in a low voice. “Start loading the clothes into the van, okay?”

Ginger looked worried, but nodded, and the group continued down the hall, Schuyler turning back to look at us one more time before they disappeared from view.

“Why me?” Kittson asked, looking very much like she wanted to join them.

“Because you’re good at this stuff,” I said. Kittson was great with computers. Even though I didn’t like it, the scrapbook-themed prom website was amazing, and she’d set it up in less than a day.

“You want us to break into Dr. Trent’s office?” Kittson hissed.

“Of course not,” I said, gesturing toward the door. “We won’t have to do that. It’s open.”

Kittson’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at the door to the office, which was propped open. And I could see that Dr. Trent’s office door was unlatched. He
probably assumed that since the whole school was alarmed, the office was pretty safe. But then, Dr. Trent had also assumed that it was a good idea to put Turtell on janitorial detention. Kittson stared at the door for a moment, then turned to me and nodded, prom-chair-person determination back in her expression. “Fast,” she whispered.

“Well, yeah,” I whispered back, and I led the way as we tiptoed in. I paused at the threshold to Dr. Trent’s office, looking at his desk in the moonlight, wondering if we were really going to do this. It felt like we were crossing a line. I looked up and saw the poster of the exhausted-looking eagle and the motto underneath it.
Dedication: Keep trying until you just can’t try anymore…then try a little harder!
This was probably not how Dr. Trent had meant that motto to be taken, but it worked for me. I stepped inside his office, still expecting alarms and sirens to go off. But there was only the silence and the gentle whirring of the computer. A green light blinked on and off at the base of the monitor.

Kittson reached out a hand to wake the computer from sleep, and I grabbed her wrist, pulling it back at the last minute. She raised her eyebrows at me, and I handed her a pair of the black lace gloves. “Just to be on the safe side,” I murmured.

Kittson rolled her eyes, but put the gloves on, and I did the same. She touched the mouse, and the computer came to life, bringing us right to Dr. Trent’s desktop, which displayed a picture of Putnam High School.

“He didn’t have a password?” I whispered, surprised.
There was probably no need for us to keep our voices down, but something was compelling me to.

“I guess not,” Kittson whispered back. She took a breath and started typing on the keyboard, searching. I looked around the office. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched, or that someone was going to come in at any moment.

“Hurry,” I whispered, even though I knew that wasn’t helping.

“That’s not helping,” Kittson murmured, concentrating on the screen. “Okay, found it.”

“And?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I can’t tell anything from this right now. I need to analyze the program and how it’s set up. I need to get this off his computer and spend some time with it. It’s too big to e-mail, and plus, that would leave a trail.”

I felt my shoulders slump. I had hoped that Kittson would be able to see right away if the voting program was properly functioning, and then we could leave. But if we needed to get something off the computer…

“Wait,” I said. I reached into the gift bag I was still carrying and took out the flash drive. I held it up to her, and it glinted in the moonlight. “Will this work?”

Five minutes later, Kittson had copied the program onto the flash drive, and we tiptoed out of Dr. Trent’s office, careful to leave behind no trace that we’d been there. We walked into the hallway, moving faster and faster as the exit door got closer, and both of us breaking into a run as we reached it. We stepped outside, back
into the cool night and fresh air, and I took a deep breath. Everyone—including Dave, standing on the running board of the van—looked very relieved to see us.

“Where were you?” Schuyler asked around a mouthful of hair.

“Hair,” I reminded her. “We had to stop by the office for a minute,” I said as casually as possible. I glanced at Kittson, who gave me a small nod. I didn’t want to tell the others what we’d just done. It seemed safer that way.

Schuyler tucked her hair behind her ears and twisted her hands together. “But is everything okay?”

“Hopefully,” I said, looking at Kittson, who started to pocket the flash drive before realizing that she was only wearing leggings, and palmed it instead. “Are we all set?” I asked Ginger, looking at the van. The rack of clothes had been placed into the back, next to the pizza carrier.

She nodded. “I might have to make some last-minute alterations, but I’ll just bring my kit with me tomorrow and do it on-site.”

“Great,” I said, a little shocked we had managed to pull this off.

“So we’re good?” Dave asked. “Because I just got an order. And if you need me to be working tomorrow, it would help if I didn’t get fired tonight.”

“I think we’re good,” I said. “Thank you, guys.”

“Meeting at Dave’s tomorrow at seven,” Kittson reminded everyone as there was an exodus toward the cars. “Don’t be late!”

“I’m never late,” Sarah said as she got into her car.

Dave started the van and rumbled out of the parking
lot, not turning on his headlights until he was back on the main road. Sarah followed him, and Schuyler, waving goodbye to me, followed her.

Kittson walked up to me as Turtell locked the door again and headed to his car. “I’ll see what I can find out tonight,” she said, indicating the flash drive. “And let you know tomorrow.”

“Great,” I said. “Thanks.”

“It was a good call,” she said, turning over the flash drive in her hands. “Something’s going on with this, and I don’t like it. I want to win fair and square, you know?”

“Right,” I said with a small smile. Kittson gave me a wave and got into Turtell’s car, which veered out of the parking lot with more speed than I might have advised, given that we were trying to be incognito.

I headed to Judy and saw that Ginger was still in the parking lot, leaning against her car. “You okay, G?” I called to her.

Ginger nodded and walked over to me, holding the pink thing she’d brought out last from the costume vault. “Got something for you,” she said.

“What is it?” I asked, squinting.

She held it up. It was the gorgeous fifties-style dress that she’d had me try on to model the crown. “It’s your prom dress,” she said, smiling. “Like it?”

CHAPTER 20

Song: Existentialism on Prom Night/Straylight Run

Quote: “There could be no honor in sure success, but much might be wrested from a sure defeat.”

—T. E. Lawrence

“
What
are you wearing?” Travis asked from across the kitchen, smirking at me.

“What?” I asked. I looked down at my dress. I was absolutely in love with it. I was thinking I was going to have to buy Ginger a pony or something to thank her. It fit like it had been made for me, and the pink went perfectly with the silver heels I’d planned on wearing with my original dress. It wasn’t a typical prom dress, but that was exactly what I liked about it.

Trying to catch my reflection in the microwave, I smoothed my hair down. I hoped it would hold out against the humidity. I’d gotten it blown out, surrounded in the salon by other girls getting their hair and nails done for the prom. I’d been running around all morning—picking up Nate’s boutonniere, getting my nails done in a soft pink to match my dress—and it had made
me excited for the prom in a way I hadn’t been since this whole mess had begun.

I still didn’t know what was going to happen with Nate once the prom was over and we got to Dave’s. But right now, I was trying not to think about that. It wasn’t actually that difficult, since there was a part of me that didn’t believe we were going to make it through the prom. After all, there was a possibility I might be spending the night in jail, which would make the whole sex-or-no-sex question moot.

My parents had left early that morning in a flurry of activity. My mother had given me a laminated card with all their South Carolina contact information on it, reminded me to take lots of pictures, and handed me a pamphlet about the Cinderella Project, telling me that we would talk about my lack of charitable work when she got back. She also told me to be nice to my brother, which at the moment was proving particularly challenging.

Once the microwave showed me that my hair was still fighting the good fight against the humidity, I straightened up and walked past Travis to the fridge, where I took Nate’s boutonniere out of the vegetable crisper. “I’m wearing a prom dress,” I said, placing the boutonniere on the kitchen counter and examining the long pearl-topped stickpin that had come with it, wondering what I was supposed to do with it. “What are
you
wearing?”

I had said it from force of habit, but Travis’s face clouded and he looked down at his suit, worried. “Why?” he asked. “Is something wrong with it? Does it look stupid? Mom picked it out, but I thought it looked kind of stupid….”

“No,” I said quickly. “I was just kidding. You look fine. Olivia will love it.”

“Really?” he asked, smoothing down his dark blue tie, then his hair, then pushing me aside and checking his own reflection in the microwave. “Because lately, she’s been…I don’t know. Different or something.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Travis sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “She has all these exes she’s still hanging out with. And whenever I ask her about it, she says they’re just friends. Like
that’s
true.”