The Scarlet Letterman by Cara Lockwood Page A

all.

Sixteen

    I’m staring at the empty hood of the sweatshirt. He has no face, no head, no anything.
    A scream gets stuck in my throat, just as I hear a familiar voice at the door of Ms. W’s office.
    “Hey!” shouts Hana. “Let her go!”
    Hooded Sweatshirt Guy nods his hood at me, then lets me go. In two quick steps, he bounds out through the open passageway. A second after he’s gone, the bookcase slides shut, completely sealing the passageway.
    “Weird,” Hana breathes, her eyes wide. She glances down at me. “Are you okay?” she asks me, helping me pull myself up from the desk.
    “He…He…” I choke, trying to get out the words.
    “What? Was it Heathcliff? Is that who you saw?”
    I’m still shaken, and my voice doesn’t seem to be working.
    “N-n-no,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s not Heathcliff. He doesn’t have a face .”
    “He what?”
    “No head. No face. Nothing. Just the sweatshirt.”
    “I think you need to rewind,” Hana says.
    I recap the last five minutes, and Hana listens.
    “I don’t know for sure, but I am almost positive that whatever happened to Coach H has also just happened to Ms. W,” I say. “I think she’s missing, too.”
    Hana nods. “I noticed she wasn’t at morning assembly.”
    “And by the way, thanks,” I say. “For saving me from the Headless Sweatshirt Stalker.”
    “You’re welcome — I guess.” Hana frowns a little. She’s still a bit mad about me keeping secrets from her.
    “Hana, listen, I am sorry, okay? I am really, really, really sorry. Like, sorrier than I’ve been for anything. And I’ve told you this over and over, but I’m going to keep saying it until you forgive me, okay?”
    “I like the groveling. The groveling works,” Hana says, a smile creeping slowly across her face. “Anyway, I forgive you.”
    I can’t help it, I hug Hana.
    “I’m really sorry — I am.”
    “I know,” she says, “besides, I had to take you back sometime. I was getting tired of hanging out with Samir twenty-four-seven. I mean, I’ve heard every one of his fart jokes now, a hundred times.”
    “That’s torture!”
    “Tell me about it. Anyway, maybe we should try to follow the stalker?”
    I move closer to the bookcase and try pulling down several books. None of them opens the door.
    “You sure that’s how he opened it?” Hana asks me.
    “I thought so, but it’s not working now.”
    “Maybe you have to be missing a head to be granted entrance to the secret passageway.”
    “Maybe,” I say, growing frustrated that I can’t make the bookcase move. Eventually I give up. “So what do we do now? About Ms. W and Coach H?” I ask her.
    “I hate to say this, but I think we need to call a meeting of the LITs.”
    We meet Blade and Samir on the grass commons in front of the boys’ dorm. Just this week the snow has melted, and patches of brown and yellow grass are now visible in the sun.
    “This better be good, because it’s freezing out here,” Samir says, shivering. Samir has low cold tolerance. Even though the sun is out, and the icicles from the trees are melting steadily, he still would rather be inside with hot cocoa.
    “First order of business, Miranda is back in the LIT fold,” Hana says.
    “How can you decide that? We have to put it to a vote,” Blade says.
    “Can we just get on with it?” Samir cries, sounding cranky. “Did I mention I am freezing here? What is it — negative twenty out here?”
    “Okay, fine, we’ll skip the voting,” Blade says. “It’s good to have you back,” she adds.
    “Are we going to all kiss Miranda’s butt, or are we going to get down to business?” Samir asks. When I give him a sharp look, he adds, “What? I just have a low cold tolerance. You know I love you — in a strictly sexual way.”
    “Go ahead,” Hana says, looking at me.
    I tell them what I know so far, everything about the Headless Sweatshirt Stalker, Ms. W’s disappearance, and the thing that might be a cougar with