Free Devilish by Maureen Johnson Page A

from the night before.
    “We removed a display of these flyers last night,” she said. “Would you care to explain why this one was in your locker?”
    The truth was, I couldn’t. But it was there, and I had to account for it somehow. And just saying I didn’t know wasn’t going to cut it.
    “I found it on the floor this morning,” I said. “I picked it up and read it. I’d seen them before, in the hallway one afternoon.”
    It seemed wise to include that—to make it seem like I was laying all of my cards on the table. Sister definitely noticed, and one of her thick, square eyebrows cocked a bit.
    “You’ve seen these before?”
    “I was late a few days ago. They were in the hall when I went into class and gone when I stepped out.”
    My honesty stalled her.
    “All right, Miss Jarvis. You may return to your class. But I would advise you to watch your behavior.”
    It seemed useless to point out that I hadn’t done a thing.

fifteen
    Along with the standard three from Owen, there were three notes waiting for me when I checked my e-mail at the end of the day.
    The first was official. Poodle Prom had officially been declared off-limits by the school—not that they knew where it was going to be, or when, or who was throwing it. Not that anyone was supposed to know about it. The message was written in a terse, no-nonsense voice that participation in “the recently announced event” was forbidden. Which meant that Poodle Prom would definitely be the most popular, must-attend event in the history of the school.
    The second was from Allison, asking me to meet her for coffee at a place called Pasquale’s. The third had just been sent, and it contained the best news I’d heard in a long time. There was still extensive damage at both St. Teresa’s and St. Sebastian’s that required immediate repair, including a potentially dangerous electrical problem. Both schools would be closed the next day in order to bring in work crews.
    Lanalee came bounding up to me.
    “Listen,” she said. “Had an idea.”
    “What?”
    “Let’s just … join in. We’ll start with something small. I thought about this all last period. How about, ‘Poodles wear them sideways’?”
    “What does that mean?”
    “I have
no idea
,” she said, stifling a laugh.
    “Listen, Lanalee,” I said. “If we get caught putting up flyers that look like those poodle flyers, we will be killed. I’m not kidding.”
    “We won’t get caught.”
    “Lanalee,” I said, “I know you want to help Ally, but we came really close last night.”
    “Sister Charles saw three people with coats over their heads. Three inside-out coats, so she can’t identify them.”
    “Seriously. I can’t explain how bad that would be for me right now. They already think I did it.”
    “Okay,” she said, obviously disappointed in me.
    I knew I was preserving myself, but saying these things made me feel like a traitor to all I believed in. Here was Lanalee, proposing a really good plan, and here I was, being all, “Well, you know. School rules …”
    But still. There comes a point where you know you have to play along, and I had reached it.
    A half hour later, I was walking down Thayer Street to meet Ally when the suited man I’d met in front of my mom’srestaurant stepped around the corner and practically right into me. He had a woman with him this time.
    “Miss Jane,” he said. “I had a feeling we might meet again during my stay. This is my companion, Claris.”
    I don’t speak Pretentious, but I figured that was just a way of saying “girlfriend.”
    Claris didn’t seem like someone who would be with Mr. Fields. I think she was older—I could tell it from her eyes, her face—but she seemed younger. She was a little punkette, with black fishnets, short leather jacket, black leather skirt, high black boots. Her hair was a rainbow of frostings and tintings, so it was hard to say if it was brown or red or blond or copper or maroon. She was spiked as