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“Okay, that’s good news,” he replies. “Do you have them? Or do you know where to find them?”
“That’s the problem. Mr. Brian has them and wants to bring them to school tomorrow to lend them to your father. But Mr. Collins won’t be at school until lunchtime, and since Mr. Brian insists on handing him the books personally…”
Ayden nods slowly. “Got it. You want to somehow get your hands on them before then.”
“Yeah, but I need someone to distract Mr. Brian. I’m hoping to find the relevant pages quickly and photograph them.”
Ayden takes a deep breath and runs his hand thoughtfully through his hair. “I can distract him for you,” he says confidently. “That’s why you came to me, right?”
I nod hesitantly, unsure if it’s maybe too much to ask. There is a risk of getting caught.
Ayden sees my worried expression and reaches out to me. His fingers touch my cheek, warm and affectionate. I instantly feel that tingling in my skin – an electric buzz that reaches every nerve ending.
“No problem, I can do that,” he says with a smile. His fingers move across my skin as if of their own accord, and then he seems to realize how close he is to me and pulls his hand back abruptly. “Sorry.” That’s all he says, but I can see a storm of emotion in his eyes that I can’t decipher. “When do you have history tomorrow?”
“Second period,” I reply, grateful for the change of subject.
“Then I’ll come by at the end of the period.”
“Do you have a plan for how you’re going to distract him?”
Ayden leans forward, and his irresistible scent wafts in my nostrils. There’s a roguish look in his eyes as he says, “Leave it with me, I’ll come up with something. I‘ll use my father as an excuse if I have to. Being the principal’s son has its advantages.”
I can’t help smiling, and I feel a wave of relief. We have a plan, and maybe tomorrow I can actually find out something about this test.
Chapter 8
We have math first period, which I somehow get through despite feeling very anxious. I keep checking my phone during class, but Noah still hasn’t replied. My nervousness increases when history class starts, and Mr. Brian comes in. As he goes to the front of the class, I have a feeling he’s watching me out of the corner of his eye, as if he has a hunch about what I’m planning. But I know that’s ridiculous. I need to calm my nerves. I can’t let him see me behaving any differently.
So I try to follow the lesson, listening attentively and taking occasional notes. I have to force myself not to look at the clock. I can’t risk Mr. Brian noticing my impatience. I need to appear as if everything’s normal.
When the bell finally rings, the adrenaline starts coursing through my veins. I glance at Kate. She knows what I’m planning, so I say loudly, “I need to go see the secretary first, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”
I take my time packing away my things. I pretend to unintentionally bump my history book, which falls to the floor along with my note pad and pens. I hiss, “Shit!” and bend to gather them up, but I take my sweet time.
Now and then, my eyes dart to the door, where I’m expecting Ayden to show up. The seconds stretch out to eternity. There are only two more pens to pick up, and then I have no reason to stick around in the classroom. I glance at Mr. Brian, who seems to be watching me closely. I guess he’s irritated that I’m still here.
Finally, I hear the redeeming voice. “Mr. Brian, I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a moment?”
Ayden is standing in the doorway. He shoots me a quick glance that I doubt anyone else would notice.
Mr. Brian gets up and goes to Ayden. “How can I help you?”
Ayden steps back out into the corridor, drawing Mr. Brian out of the classroom, and finally the coast is clear. Ayden seems to have chosen his position carefully because from where he’s standing, Mr. Brian can’t see into the room.
I jump up and hurry to the teacher’s desk as fast as I can. I open the drawers, but all I find are a few pens and loose sheets of paper. There are more drawers on the right and in one of them is a small book, which makes my heart start hammering. Judging by the title, it’s about the Cold War and the key carriers’ involvement. I put it back and check the floor. Mr. Brian has pushed his briefcase under the desk, and I have to really stretch to reach it.
I glance at the door, but I can’t see Ayden or the teacher. So I open the clasps and look inside the briefcase. I see a packet of tissues, some pens, a rolled-up newspaper. But in the center compartment, I find what I’m looking for.
“Finally,” I mutter, pulling out three ancient-looking books. They’re not very thick, which is good because I probably don’t have much time. I pick up the first book, which is bound in old linen. It feels rough and stiff, and the spine is beginning to disintegrate, so I’m very careful not to damage it further.
My heart thunders against my ribs when I see the little colored post-it notes. Apparently, Mr. Brian has marked the relevant sections for Mr. Collins. Very considerate of him, and so typical. I’ve often noticed the obsequious way he acts around the principal. He seems very eager to please.
I quickly open the book to the page with the first post-it and take out my phone. I make sure I have everything in frame before snapping a photo. The heading “Energy Fluctuations” grabs my attention.
I don’t know what to make of it, and it doesn’t sound like it necessarily has anything to do with the test. I hastily open the other marked pages and photograph them. I do the same with the second book. When I pick up the third one and see that it only has one post-it, I’m overcome with relief. I’m almost done.
This book is bound in leather. It feels porous and incredibly old. The pages are yellow and flecked. I carefully open it to the marked page and raise my eyebrows in surprise. Here I find a few memos with arrows pointing to certain parts of the text. Mr. Brian has written some comments in very straightforward hand-writing without any flourishes or quirks. I quickly photograph these too, then I glance at the door and suddenly hear my teacher’s voice.
