10: The Investigator of Suspicious Boys, Nicole Nyra Duford

☽ Peter ☽

The windowpanes of Ms. Crozier's classroom are hazy, with splotches of dirt covering the patches of light that poke weakly through. In the summer, the school's garden stands out, with its bright flowers. Now, at the beginning of the year, when the weather is starting to get colder, the garden is bare. The grass around it coils towards the wooden surface and overtakes it.

I'm staring down through the window when two figures cross in front of the field, cutting through the garden area and continuing in a blur of motion. From above, it's hard to tell exactly who they are, but definitely on a sports team, based on the way they're running.

"Peter," Ms. Crozier says, making me jolt. I whirl back towards her; luckily, she's too distracted, and doesn't notice. "I... give me a moment, I could swear I put that notebook under this portfolio and... oh, there we go!"

She pulls a page out from underneath from her notebook and brandishes it like a medallion. "Okay, so... I had my meeting with the directors, and you've got pre-approval for the club. What that means is that, basically, you are free to hold a meeting every Thursday at lunch, given that you have a club monitor—that's me—and a schedule. However, after talking to the other council members for a while, I managed to figure out that there are requirements for after school meetings. Namely, you need at least six members for the school to justify letting you stay after hours."

She holds out the page to me, a blank list of required members. At the top, she's signed herself as the coordinator and left the rest empty. "Six members... we have five right now, including me."

"Yes, well, that's the thing, isn't it? There's always a problem. This one... say you can't find another member. At the worst, we're still a club, but we aren't allowed to schedule events and the like. It's up to you, but I think it would be nice to hold a few events off school grounds."

"If we can get that many members, anyway."

Ms. Crozier scoffs. "Yes, if. But I prefer thinking positively, right? You got five members on your first day. That's rare! I have no doubt about that." She goes rifling through her desk drawers, slamming them shut one by one. "In the meantime, um, bear with me for a moment, I have to find this pamphlet. I called our local Museum of Natural History to see what they had for supplies, like a star chart or something, considering we don't even teach astronomy as a class..."

"The Museum has charts?" I ask.

"Well, they referred me through to Mount Allison's campus, after a whole ordeal... and I drove over there to get this." Turning the glossy pamphlet in my direction, Ms. Crozier smiles and hands it to me. "Those are the different telescopes we can borrow. But I don't know the first thing about what makes a good telescope, do you?"

"Uh..." I stare at the laminated pictures in my hands. "I guess I can figure it out?"

"Oh, thank you. I was hoping you would say that. I really don't have the time."

I offer her a smile. "I'll get on it."

☆ ☽ ☆

I don't get to see Nicole until the end of the day, when I meet her by her locker. It's tucked away in the basement corner, and it has been our lunchtime hiding place for years. The lock is painted with bright purple nail polish in retaliation for the vice principal taking away the personal lock she put on it. And for which her father apparently received a strongly worded email about respecting school property.

"You did what?" she asks, tossing her backpack over her shoulder. Her glasses of the day are a pair of round black frames with the glass removed. I'm pretty sure they're actually 3D glasses from the old Empire Theatre an hour away from Northwood, which is honestly kind of impressive.

"I kind of had to tell Crozier I would do it. I mean, she's busy."

"I know, but six members? Where the heck are we supposed to find another whole person? I don't think I'm mentally ready for this."

With a quiet laugh, I reply, "As opposed to?"

"Half of a person, obviously," Nicole says bluntly. She tosses me a look as we head to the basement exit. A gravel pathway connects to the parking lot, weaving between the trees. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I am not stupid enough to forget the last time, when you—"

She scoffs as she shoves the door open. "Stop it. You sound like my dad. I can be trusted behind the wheel, I promise."

Nicole's father's truck was ruined after he let her drive it to the corner store, and she promptly reversed into a pole. It doesn't help that she's gotten three tickets for speeding, and was entirely responsible for 'the incident,' where she almost hit a pedestrian crossing the street. I don't know how she got her license, but I am never letting that girl drive my car.

"Not happening." We round the corner, and the parking lot pops into view. There are about a hundred students at North High, and most of them drive trucks. Among the occupied spots, my tiny Ford stands out.

"Hello again, Europa!" Nicole's voice is chirpy as she skips to the passenger door. It's the bright blue paint that gave the car its name, much like the reflective ice of one of Jupiter's moons. She slides into her seat and adjusts herself into place, fiddling with her seatbelt.

"How about asking Andrew to join the club?" I ask.

Nicole sticks her tongue out at me. "Kendall? You mean the gross coding club leader? Yeah, I would sooner stab myself in the eye with a dull butter knife. All he ever talks about are his big plans to make his own app and become some major computer science genius while doing exactly zero of the actual work."

"Sounds about right." I shrug. "Point being that we need a sixth member. Whoever it is doesn't necessarily need to show up to every single meeting. We just need to list six names, and that's it."

There's a keen glint in Nicole's gaze, and I groan, expecting the worst. Evenly, she says, "I imagine this means you can't freeze Evan out."

"Who said I was doing that?"

She sits back in her seat, halfheartedly kicking her feet up on the dashboard. "Please, Pierre. I know your little sideways glances. And, to be honest, I get it. You didn't follow my advice with Sam, but this time you should."

"Right." I take a right turn at Nicole's street, pulling into her apartment building on Charlotte Lane. It's a quaint subdivision consisting of four identical buildings on the block, each with the same rectangular windows and balconies. "What exactly is your advice?"

She grins like she was expecting me to ask, and removes two tickets from the depths of her pocket. "I have been stalking your little sporty-hottie boy all day long. He's going to the game tonight. If we want to make sure he's not suspicious, then we go. Together. I'm not letting you make these decisions yourself anymore, since it's clear you have no brain."

What did she just call Evan? "I do have a brain, actually, thank you very much."

She rolls her eyes. "No, you don't. You can't prove it. Now, come on. We can hang out here before going back to school."

I hop out of the car, closing the door. The lock clicks. The lane is still, protected from the major streets. A flock of birds pass overhead, overtaking the sky and covering the clouds with specks of black. I tilt my head to watch them fly, heading away from Northwood and out of sight. "We could have stayed."

"Yeah, but that's boring," Nicole says, always eager to move around. She leads me into the lobby of her apartment and through the entryway to the elevator. I've visited her place more times than I can count; she's moved once or twice, but has been in this building for a while longer than the rest.

When we reach her floor, she locates apartment number two hundred and throws the door open. "I'm home!"

"Welcome!" her dad's voice calls from inside. The entryway separates in two directions, and Nicole walks through to the living room. I take my shoes off before stepping onto the hardwood flooring. "How are things?"

"Fine. I'm forcing Peter into coming with me to the soccer game tonight. Right?"

"Yeah, essentially," I mutter.

Opening the fridge, Nicole grabs a can of lemonade soda. As soon as she pops the tab, her father asks, "Are you drinking my soda again?"

"Nope, that is totally not what I'm doing," Nicole says and steps into the living room. She offers me the reclining armchair and drapes herself over the edge.

"I can see that." He chuckles softly. "Why are you both going to a soccer game? I didn't think you were into sports, Peter."

I shrug. "Uh..."

"Personal reasons?" Nicole attempts to say. "You remember I was telling you about the club? We've got a new person of interest in our investigation."

What is she, a private investigator? I could see that. "It's actually more like a stakeout."

"Sounds exciting," her father says, shifting on the couch to reach for the TV remote. In terms of appearance, Nicole has the same shade of dirty blonde hair, and they both have the same thin cheeks and pale skin with a calm smile. She is a few inches taller than him—it's enough to rival my height, a fact she will never let me forget. David Duford has been nothing but supportive through the years; in fact, he's so relaxed that sometimes it throws me off. "Don't let her peer pressure you into anything you don't want to do, you hear me?"

"It's a bit late for that," I reply. Nicole kicks me with the heel of her shoe, digging into my shin. "What? You force me into doing a lot of things I don't remember signing up for."

"Funny. Says the guy who forced me into taking on more club duties," she retorts. "Let the record show that I am not volunteering for Vice President. It's too much work. Let Lexa do it, they seem to be interested."

I lightly shove her off me. "Take my place as club president, then."

"There's an idea, Nikki," her dad interjects.

"That's even more work." She sighs heavily, glancing at the two of us. "And I already do Kendall's club duties for him. I don't need any other slaking boys in my life."

After getting distracted by a rerun of The Bachelor on TV, Nicole finishes her drink and checks the time. Her lock screen is a photo of her schedule for school—I guess it's her way of keeping track. "Oh, shit, we'd better get going. Let's do this mission!"

She sounds a touch too chipper for the occasion, which probably means she's planning something I'm not going to like.

"Are you driving?" her father asks.

I shake my head. "I am not letting her take my car."

"Very responsible! Nikki, do you see?"

But she's already headed for the door, rolling her eyes while she waits for me to get ready. "You know what, that should be your middle name. Pierre responsable Delacroix."

Responsible? I give her a look. She just snorts and ushers me out of the apartment. I don't know when it started, but save for my parents and extended family, Nicole is the only person who calls me by my given name. Everyone else reverts to the closest English translation, which I honestly don't mind anymore. "Very true, and you can be Nicole chaotique Duford. Partenaires en crime."

"I have no idea what you just said, but I am sensing it wasn't a compliment," she replies as we make our way back to the car.

I give her a sheepish smile. She knows by now what I'm about to say, and even though it never works, it's my duty to poke fun at her. "That is why I didn't say it in English, yes. If you bothered to learn, we wouldn't have this problem."

"Okay, smartass. How do you say not a chance in hell in French?"