Free Project Jackalope by Emily Ecton

little guy so much. It kind ofsucked to just hand something that awesome over to a crackpot like Twitchett.
    When we got to Twitchett’s apartment, Agatha dug around in her hair and came out with a hairpin. She fiddled with the lock for just a second before it seemed to recognize her and give up completely. Then she practically kicked the door in and stomped inside. I think I ticked her off with the jackalope stuff. But at least it perked her up.
    I peeked inside after her, because honestly, it probably would’ve been a better idea to make sure there wasn’t anyone inside the apartment before we just busted in. Agatha’s one lucky chick, because the apartment was empty. Cleared out. (Well, except for his furniture and stuff. Like anyone would take that.) It was just like the office—completely clean and organized, like a model home or something.
    I took a step inside and then hesitated. Everything about that apartment felt wrong. It even smelled wrong. It was like we were at the apartment of Twitchett’s evil twin. Not the kind of thing I like to mess with, personally.
    Agatha had already checked out the bedroom by the time I’d decided to suck it up and go inside.
    “Well, this is ridiculous,” Agatha said, dragging her brush through her hair again. “The guest towel is folded. It’s
folded,
Jeremy. What’s going on here?”
    I shrugged. I didn’t even know Twitchett had a guest towel.
    “His suitcases are still here, there are clothes hanging neatly in the closet, and his stuff is all lined up on his dresser.
Lined up.
And I haven’t seen a single book or paper in the place.” Agatha pulled out a dining room chair with her foot and threw herself into it. So much for searching the apartment.
    “Yeah, okay. So where do you want to search first?” I looked around the apartment. Agatha was right. The sooner we could get out of here the better.
    Agatha rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you listening? There’s no point, Jeremy! His papers are gone. His books are gone. His computer is gone. And don’t even tell me he took them. It’s
them.
It’s the Suit guys. They’ve taken everything and tried to make it look normal.”
    I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. “The towel was folded?”
    “Folded. And the bed was made. There was an embroidered pillow, Jeremy. One I’ve never seen before. Propped against the headboard. It said ‘Confession Is Good for the Soul.’”
    Okay, that was weird. Yeah, I tried to keep out of Twitchett’s toxic waste dump of an apartment, and maybe he could’ve hired a housekeeper or a maid or a hazmat crew. But an embroidered pillow? With a confession motto? I wrinkled my nose and realized why the apartment smelled so wrong. It wasn’t just that it smelled lemony and clean. It was the smell underneath that—a cigarette smell I’d probably be having nightmares about for the rest of my life. We had to get out of there.
    “That’s it then,” I said. “We’re done here.”
    Agatha sighed and heaved herself up. “It’s over. There’s nothing to find.” She trudged out of the apartment and locked the door behind us. The gloom of the hallway was a relief after that weird evil cleanness. I could almost pretend it wasn’t real.
    Agatha hovered in the hallway, fiddling with the brush. “You can leave the hybrid with me, I guess. Hortense likes him.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Nice try, Agatha, but no way. You can’t use Jack in the science fair.” Plus she’d been pretty lackadaisical when he disappeared from the living room. Jack needs someone who looks out for him.
    Agatha smacked me with the brush. “No kidding, you think I want those guys to come back? There’s no way he can be my project now. I was just thinking with your mom…”
    She had a point. We weren’t really a household that was set up for a jackalope. Even if I shaved him bald, my mom would probably still be allergic.
    “Just until we find Twitchett,” she said. “He’ll come back soon.”
    Or