Free Double-Crossed by Lin Oliver Page B

holding his throat and making a noise like he was choking.
    Really? Don’t these guys have anything better to think about than my tennis game?
    Apparently not, because his remark was followed by the General’s.
    â€œCharlie says you were freaked out because your friends from Guatemala got busted,” he said.
    â€œThey are from El Salvador,” I said.
    â€œSame difference,” he answered.
    I stopped walking and turned to look him square in the face.
    â€œSince you seem to be a general in some unknown armed forces, you might want to take a geography lesson and learn the countries of Central America, our neighbors to the south.”
    â€œWhoa,” he said, smirking at Jared. “Somebody’s in a touchy mood. You should chill out and be more like your sister.”
    Before I could answer, his phone beeped and he reached into the pocket of his camouflage cargo pants and pulled it out.
    â€œText from Brooke,” he said. “She’s here.”
    We had just walked up to the front steps of Beachside, our school, and Brooke was getting out of her dad’s car, holding her phone. She looked around, and when she saw the General walking toward the steps, she waved and squealed all at once. There should be a word for that . . . I know, a squave. That’s it. She squaved at the General.
    â€œHey,” she said, running up to him. “How come you’re walking with Sammie?”
    â€œAre you jealous?” he asked.
    â€œOh right. Like, so jealous,” she said with a laugh.
    That stung. Not that I was interested in the General even the tiniest smidgeon of a bit, but still, it hurt not even to be considered good enough for a minute of his attention. All I was to them was a joke.
    I was never so grateful to hear the five-minute warning bell ring. I left them and dashed up the stairs to the office. Mrs. Humphrey, who runs the attendance office, was in her usual foul mood, but I didn’t care. I asked her if Alicia had called in sick. She just frowned at me over her steel-rimmed glasses and told me she was not at liberty to give out that information, like it was some big security breech or something.
    At lunch, I went to Ms. Carew’s classroom. Most of the time, she eats lunch at her desk and leaves her door open for anyone who wants to come in and hang out. The kids in Truth Tellers all love Ms. Carew, and usually, there are four or five kids in her room or on her patio, talking and eating. When I went in, she was working with Etta and Bernard, helping them refine their ideas for a monologue for our Saturday-night performance.
    â€œHave you seen Alicia today?” I asked. “I really need to talk to her. I think she’s mad at me.”
    â€œI haven’t seen her,” Ms. Carew answered, “but you two are such good friends, I’m sure you can talk through your feelings.”
    I told her what happened at the club. She listened and sighed deeply.
    â€œExclusion is a terrible thing,” she said, “especially when you’re excluded for no other reason than being yourself.”
    She went over to the intercom and buzzed Mrs. Humphrey.
    â€œCan you tell me why Alicia Bermudez is out today?” she asked.
    â€œWhy does everyone want to know?” Mrs. Humphrey barked. “You’d think I have nothing else to do with my time than take attendance.”
    That was a weird thing to say. Since she does run the attendance office, I would think taking attendance is one of the main things she has to do. I could hear her typing on her computer, and I could feel the annoyance as she punched the keyboard hard.
    â€œHere it is,” she grumbled. “Her father called her in absent at seven forty-two this morning. He said it was a family issue.”
    That worried me. Was Alicia staying out of school because she was too embarrassed about what had happened at the club? Or because she was furious with me for going on with the match?