From the Desk of Zoe Washington(47)

“Do you see her?” I asked Trevor.

He searched up and down the street for his mom’s blue car. The street was full of cars, which all blurred together. “I don’t see her. I told you she’s late sometimes.”

I exhaled in relief. I couldn’t believe we were getting away with this. It was the one consolation for what had turned out to be a pretty disappointing day.

“Let’s go stand in front of J.P. Licks,” Trevor said.

I nodded in agreement, and we started walking toward the corner so we could cross over to it.

But before we could do that, a car pulled into the parking spot beside us. The same blue car that we’d just looked for—Patricia’s car. The passenger side window was rolled down and Patricia glared at us from the driver’s seat. From the angry expression on her face, I knew what she was about to say wasn’t good.

“Get in the car.” She didn’t yell it, but her tone told us we’d better listen to her. My heart started beating fast.

Without a word, Trevor and I jumped into the car.

I expected Trevor’s mom to start driving us home right away, but she didn’t. Instead, she twisted in her seat so that she faced both of us, giving each of us a hard look. “We’re going to go home,” she said calmly, “and then you are going to tell me exactly what you were up to this afternoon, when you were not watching a movie or getting ice cream. Don’t even try to lie to me, because I just saw you get out of a taxi. Also, I know you weren’t out with Lincoln and Sean like you told me, Trevor, because as I was leaving to come pick you up, they came by the house looking for you. I thought maybe I’d misremembered who you were going to the movie with, but now I know it was all a lie.”

I was going to throw up. We were so busted. I tried to think of a way to explain what we were doing in a cab, but I couldn’t think of a single good lie. Trevor didn’t have one either, or else he knew not to argue with his mother, because he didn’t say anything.

I could see my mom’s face already. She was going to be so angry. And disappointed in me, which would feel even worse. I had no idea what my punishment would be, but it would be bad.

I totally deserved it, too. Today was a fail. It turned out there was no good reason for me to lie to my family.

Trevor’s mom started driving toward home, and then I heard a familiar chirping sound—my email alert. I took my cell phone out of my backpack pocket and opened my inbox.

I gasped. There was a new email from Professor Thomas. I couldn’t get it open fast enough.

Date: September 1

From: Susan Thomas

To: Zoe Washington

Subject: I have your letter

Dear Zoe,

I found your letter on the floor of my office sometime after you left. I didn’t notice it right away, but once I did, I tried looking for you, but you were already gone. The letter must have fallen out of your bag. I apologize for reading the first few lines. I didn’t know what it was at first. As soon as I realized it was yours, I stopped reading and emailed you. I would like to return it to you.

Also, I want to let you know that after seeing “Little Tomato” written on the top of the letter, I remembered something. I think I remember Marcus now. Please email me, or if you’d like, you can call my office line. The number is below, and I’ll be here for the rest of the afternoon.

Sincerely,

Susan

Susan Thomas

Professor of Mathematics

Harvard University

617-555-1485





Chapter Thirty-One


I had to call Professor Thomas back. Fast.

The last time I got in trouble—for lying about what grade I got on a test—my parents took my phone away for a week. I was in way bigger trouble now, so I might never get my phone back.

But right as I tried to sneak the phone call from the back seat, Patricia pulled into our shared driveway. I looked up at the porch, and Grandma was standing there smiling at us, with Butternut happily wagging his tail at her feet. She couldn’t know that Trevor and I had done something wrong. If she did, she wouldn’t be smiling.

“Stay here. I’m going to talk to Zoe’s grandmother,” Patricia said before jumping out of the car.

“We’re dead. Done. Burnt toast,” Trevor said after his mom shut the car door behind her. His voice was full of dread, which made me feel terrible. It was my fault we were in this mess. Trevor sat very still in his seat and kept his eyes on his mother as she walked up the porch steps and began telling Grandma that she caught us getting out of a cab.

“Trevor, look at this.” I shoved my phone toward him so he could see the email from Professor Thomas. But he wouldn’t take the phone, or even turn around in his seat to face me.

“No. I don’t want to get in more trouble.” His voice was filled with worry.

“I’m really sorry we got caught. But look, Professor Thomas—”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence because Patricia and Grandma were suddenly at the car. Patricia opened Trevor’s door. “Let’s go,” she told him.

I glanced at Grandma, who stood by the passenger door with disbelief all over her face. She motioned for me to come with her, so I gripped my cell phone in one hand and got out of the car. Butternut jumped up my leg, so I reached down to pat his head. He licked my hand. Then I looked over at Trevor, who followed Patricia up the porch steps with his head down.