Cypress Alley

Chapter 14

As soon as lunch was over, I headed straight to the History classroom. Shuffling out of the way of Veronica and her cronies, I avoided my locker as I knew she'd be nearby. So I had to turn up to History with only a pencil and my case notebook in my pocket. Mrs Olson was already in the classroom, waiting with her usual, piercing glare.

"Where's your equipment?" she growled. I scoffed. Mrs Olson was the only one who would call a pencil case and a notebook "equipment".

"At home," I lied. "I was studying for the test."

"The test was three days ago! You should have brought them back," she yelled, and I shrugged helplessly. "Sit down."

I sat and waited. The rest of the class gradually filed into the classroom. Eliza came in last, of course. Her usual tardiness hadn't changed since we'd stopped speaking. Unfortunately, the only unfilled desk left was to the immediate right of me. With long strides, she kicked the chair around the edge of the desk and swivelled in her seat to face away from me. I, too, refused to acknowledge her.

Mrs Olson drolled on about who-knows-what as I stared out the window. Eliza took notes. Let me repeat: Eliza took notes. I was pretty sure she hadn't ever written anything in her History book. Not until today.

I must admit, I was enjoying my solitude. There were no pesky whispers in my ears, and none of Eliza's whining. It was a nice chance for a nap...

But Mrs Olson interrupted my daydream, shoving a worksheet under my nose. 

"Finish it by the end of the lesson. I will be checking. You may work in pairs or groups if you so wish," she droned.

The class erupted into chatter. The voices began to blend into obtrusively loud white noise. Only Eliza and I remained silent. She scribbled away furiously until she'd completed the worksheet as I absently doodled tessellating patterns on the page corner. I'd started on another edge when I received an aggressive tap on the back. Turning, I found myself faced with a girl's nose, although she was far too close for me to make out her face. Leaning back, I realised it was Jane.

Well, that wasn't her full name. Jane-something-or-the-other, but I couldn't remember the rest of it. What kind of idiot had two names, anyway?

Between her manic giggles, she struggled to form coherent sentences. "Hi – giggle – I -giggle – I – giggle – I wanted to sa- giggle – to say- giggle." 

Unnerved, I pushed my chair back.

Her friends were cackling away behind her, as I felt my face grow warm. I couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment. Eliza, clearly amused, turned to watch what was going on.

When Jane collected herself, she choked out what she intended to say. "Hi, I just wanted to tell you that your face looks like a mashed potato."

The girls behind her exploded into fits of laughter, as Jane leapt back into her seat, smug and satisfied. I raised my eyebrows. What were we, in year 2? And she couldn't think of anything better than 'mashed potato'? Believe me when I say that I've been called far worse.

I thought I would have been able to tolerate her laughter if Eliza wasn't sitting right beside me. Yet it seemed as if the giggle grew louder each second - even though she sat at the other end of the classroom. I then realised who the real source of laughter was.

"What's so funny?" I asked Eliza.

"Oh, so you're talking to me now?" she snapped.

"What the hell – you were the one who stopped talking to me."

"Shut up," she said sharply. I glared at her and put my head down on my desk in an attempt to block her out. Eliza increased the intensity and volume of her laugh and called something out to Jane – but among the chaos of the room, I found it utterly unintelligible. Jane let out a hoot as the group burst into indistinct but animated chatter. My face grew hotter by the second as I felt my chest constrict. In an attempt to suppress my emotions, I dug my nails into my palms, trying to focus on the worksheet I was supposed to be doing. Question One: who were the November Criminals? Question Two: What were the terms of the Treaty of Versailles? Question Three: Why did-

"Excuse me, Mr Sullivan, but I don't see anything written on your page," Mrs Olson snarled. I jumped out of my seat, knocking my pencil off the edge of my desk in the process. Mrs Olson picked it up and flung it into my lap. "Get back to work."

I scrambled to pencil in my answers as another bout of laughter ensued. I didn't understand why it bothered me so much. Why should I care that Eliza was laughing with an idiot? Why should I care that she had friends and I didn't? I pressed my pencil firmly into the page, as shards of graphite spilled onto the page. The November Criminals were the Weimar Government of Germany during the First World War, who were blamed for "stabbing the nation in the back" during-

I snapped my head up at the mention of my name, tuning my ears into Eliza's voice. "Oh, not Elijah. He's so annoying. Just look at the way he's actually doing work."

I bit back a response and started working my way up the powers of two in my head. 2 to the power of 0 is 1, 2 to the power of 1 is 2, 2 to the power of 2 is 4. It was oddly calming, on good days, and today it felt heaven-sent. I felt my rage temper, and I was able to loosen my grip on the pencil. All the while, though, I kept listening. Eliza speaks rather loudly, so that wasn't too much of an issue. Although I began to suspect she wanted me to hear.

"And he keeps sticking his ugly nose into everything. As soon as North died, all he could think about was solving the case!"

"What a nosey idiot!"

"He's so insensitive!"

I wanted to scream at her. She was the one who had wanted to solve it – not me. I was merely following her at the beginning. 2 to the power of 7 is 128. 2 to the power of 8 is 256.

"He shouldn't be doing that – that's the police's job," Jane-Rose said. "Eliza, you should tell him to stop. What if he actually gets hurt?" She laughed nervously.

Eliza huffed. "He won't listen to me, anyway. He thinks he knows everything."

At this, all the numbers in my head screeched to a halt. Jane-Rose seemed oddly desperate to get me off the case. Why should she care, though? Unless she had something to hide...

I whipped out my case book and scribbled a new name onto my suspects' list: Jane-Rose.

"Still, I don't think he should be doing this..." Jane trailed off.

"I know!" Eliza yelled in fake exasperation. I heard her jump onto her feet with glee. "Hey, we should try and solve the case before he does!"

The other girls laughed, but I couldn't hear Jane's voice in the group. When the laughter died down, Jane spoke up. "Can we not?"

"Aw, come on!" Eliza urged. "It'll be fun."

"Haha, no way," said another girl, and I almost felt Jane-Rose relax. "That's so dumb. Besides, it's not our problem."

"Yeah," agreed Jane. "Let's just forget about it, please?"

The conversation took a turn as they started speaking about Mrs Olson's moustache. Eliza joined in, delighted to have a new group of friends. While she wasted her time with them, I decided I'd focus on Jane-Rose as much as I did Veronica. The only way to settle my doubts about her would be to investigate.  I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle of satisfaction. I had a tremendous lead on this case, as Eliza remained blinded by her close-mindedness.

I continued on my worksheet, soaking in my small, silent victory.