she did, it turned out her thoughts were on the same lines as mine.
“You know it’s not just Tom, don’t you?” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“We just need to find out who the third baby was, and then — ”
“No, we don’t,” I interrupted. Somewhere between Tom reminding me of Nancy’s words and Izzy breaking the silence, I’d already realized who the third person was. I wished I hadn’t. If you had asked me to compile a list of people I’d rather not be wrapped up in this adventure with, she’d have been somewhere near the top. But I couldn’t avoid the truth.
I’d seen her celebrating on the same day as me. I’d overheard her telling her friends how her daddy had bought her a pony for her twelfth birthday. I’d listened to the girls in my grade screeching with delight about her thirteenth birthday party. On the thirtieth of March.
Izzy looked at me quizzically. “You already know?”
I grimaced. “It’s Heather.”
Izzy looked blank for a moment. Then she registered what I’d said. “Heather Berry? Most-popular-girl-in-our-class?
That
Heather?”
I nodded. “I suppose there might be someone else in town with the same birthday, but my money’s on her.”
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was. I thought back over the last few times I’d seen her — how she’d seemed different. Like that time outside the bathroom.
Then I remembered something else — her new ring!
Was it possible that she’d not only been affected by the serum like me, but that she also had a power like mine and already knew about it? If so, had she guessed that
I
had a superpower, too?
There was only one way to find out.
“Izzy,” I said. “We have to speak to Heather.”
“Yeah. Only trouble is, how do we do it without sounding insane — or scaring her off like we just did with Tom?”
I thought about it for a second. Then it came to me. “I’ve got another idea! A stakeout!”
“Yeah, we’ve already agreed on — ”
“No. A
double
stakeout. We do the lab tomorrow evening, but during the day . . .”
“A stakeout of Heather!”
“Exactly. We don’t let her know what we’re doing. We make it casual. Check out what she’s up to, see if there’s anything different about her. Be subtle and cool.”
“Hmm, subtle and cool. Not exactly our trademark qualities,” Izzy pointed out.
“Yeah. Well, you know. We’ll do our best.”
“And if subtle and cool doesn’t work, we could always just come out with it and ask her.”
I frowned. “Yeah. Maybe. As long as we can think of a way to say it without ending up at the school counselor’s office with a note saying we’ve lost our marbles.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Izzy agreed.
And for the first time in roughly . . . well, forever, I realized I was actually looking forward to Monday morning at school.
My first stakeout opportunity was second period — French. Izzy is in honors French. She’s in honors everything, actually. I hate French and always have. It’s the accent you have to put on when you speak it — I just can’t do it. I feel silly trying. I barely made it into French 2.
French must be the one chink in Heather’s perfect armor, because she’s in the same class.
Before Izzy and I headed separate ways at the end of the hall, Izzy shook my hand, like a general sending his most trusted soldier off to war. “Good luck,” she said solemnly. “Or should I say,
bonne chance
?”
“Same to you. See if you can catch up with Tom, check that he’s OK.”
“Will do,” Izzy agreed, and she went into her classroom.
I’d decided my strategy was going to be to start a conversation with Heather and see how she acted with me. I figured I should be able to sense whether there was something different about her.
The problem was, I hadn’t quite decided how to actually start the conversation. You can’t exactly walk up to someone with whom you’ve only ever traded dirty looks — apart from in
“You know it’s not just Tom, don’t you?” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“We just need to find out who the third baby was, and then — ”
“No, we don’t,” I interrupted. Somewhere between Tom reminding me of Nancy’s words and Izzy breaking the silence, I’d already realized who the third person was. I wished I hadn’t. If you had asked me to compile a list of people I’d rather not be wrapped up in this adventure with, she’d have been somewhere near the top. But I couldn’t avoid the truth.
I’d seen her celebrating on the same day as me. I’d overheard her telling her friends how her daddy had bought her a pony for her twelfth birthday. I’d listened to the girls in my grade screeching with delight about her thirteenth birthday party. On the thirtieth of March.
Izzy looked at me quizzically. “You already know?”
I grimaced. “It’s Heather.”
Izzy looked blank for a moment. Then she registered what I’d said. “Heather Berry? Most-popular-girl-in-our-class?
That
Heather?”
I nodded. “I suppose there might be someone else in town with the same birthday, but my money’s on her.”
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was. I thought back over the last few times I’d seen her — how she’d seemed different. Like that time outside the bathroom.
Then I remembered something else — her new ring!
Was it possible that she’d not only been affected by the serum like me, but that she also had a power like mine and already knew about it? If so, had she guessed that
I
had a superpower, too?
There was only one way to find out.
“Izzy,” I said. “We have to speak to Heather.”
“Yeah. Only trouble is, how do we do it without sounding insane — or scaring her off like we just did with Tom?”
I thought about it for a second. Then it came to me. “I’ve got another idea! A stakeout!”
“Yeah, we’ve already agreed on — ”
“No. A
double
stakeout. We do the lab tomorrow evening, but during the day . . .”
“A stakeout of Heather!”
“Exactly. We don’t let her know what we’re doing. We make it casual. Check out what she’s up to, see if there’s anything different about her. Be subtle and cool.”
“Hmm, subtle and cool. Not exactly our trademark qualities,” Izzy pointed out.
“Yeah. Well, you know. We’ll do our best.”
“And if subtle and cool doesn’t work, we could always just come out with it and ask her.”
I frowned. “Yeah. Maybe. As long as we can think of a way to say it without ending up at the school counselor’s office with a note saying we’ve lost our marbles.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Izzy agreed.
And for the first time in roughly . . . well, forever, I realized I was actually looking forward to Monday morning at school.
My first stakeout opportunity was second period — French. Izzy is in honors French. She’s in honors everything, actually. I hate French and always have. It’s the accent you have to put on when you speak it — I just can’t do it. I feel silly trying. I barely made it into French 2.
French must be the one chink in Heather’s perfect armor, because she’s in the same class.
Before Izzy and I headed separate ways at the end of the hall, Izzy shook my hand, like a general sending his most trusted soldier off to war. “Good luck,” she said solemnly. “Or should I say,
bonne chance
?”
“Same to you. See if you can catch up with Tom, check that he’s OK.”
“Will do,” Izzy agreed, and she went into her classroom.
I’d decided my strategy was going to be to start a conversation with Heather and see how she acted with me. I figured I should be able to sense whether there was something different about her.
The problem was, I hadn’t quite decided how to actually start the conversation. You can’t exactly walk up to someone with whom you’ve only ever traded dirty looks — apart from in
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