Page 45 of Better Than Revenge

“Oh! Cheryl Millcreek. She was the terrible friend.”

“Did your grandma go to high school here?” Theo asked.

“Yes.”

“So did mine. Maybe she can ask some of her friends if they knew her. I’ll talk to her.”

“You will?” I asked.

Mrs.Patel brought over the burger right at that moment. She set it in front of Theo with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said, and slid it over to me.

Why was he here? Why did he want to help me? It couldn’t just be that he saw me kick a ball and Jensen annoyed him. He was giving up too much of his time for such weak motives. And it was obvious he didn’t do things out of the goodness of his heart. I’d add that to the list of things I was working on at the moment—find out why Theo Torres was really doing this.

Chapter

fifteen

“DO YOU KEEP OLD YEARBOOKShere?” I asked the librarian, Mrs.Hughs, the next day at school during lunch break. The night before, my mom and I had spent hours looking through family pictures. While it was fun to walk down memory lane, there were zero pictures featuring the surfboard. Not that we thought there would be, since the surfboard predated my mom, but we thought we’d at least try.

“Yes, we keep old yearbooks,” she said. “What year are you looking for?”

“Sixties?”

“Follow me.” She led me up the stairs and to the back corner, then presented the wall of yearbooks. “They’re in order, so you’ll find the sixties over here.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You looking for grandparents?”

“Sort of.”

“Good luck.”

First, I went to last year’s yearbook and pulled it down. I flipped through till I found Jensen. I pulled a sticky note out of my backpack and wrote the wordsworld’s worstboyfriendwith an arrow and stuck it next to his picture. It was silly and immature, but it brought me a sense of satisfaction. Someone at some point in the future, maybe his grandkid, would see that and ask him about it. The thought that even in fifty years he might have to defend what he’d done to me made me smile. I shut the book and slid it back into place. The 1960s section was on the far left all the way on the bottom, so I sat down and pulled one out.

Where are you?The text from Deja buzzed through on my phone.

In the library. I’ll be out in a minute.

What’s in the library?she asked.

Your mom,I retorted.

Tell her to get back to work. The library is no place for people who want to make money.

She told me to tell you that you’re grounded for that comment.

I knew Deja, and she probably rolled her eyes while reading my last couple joking texts.Whatever secret mission you’re on, hurry.

I will.

The upstairs section of the library was a loft area that had a half wall overlooking the bottom floor. It allowed the noise from the lower level to drift up perfectly. That’s how I heard a group of guys come in talking about the school’s podcast.

“Does anyone even listen to it?” someone said.

“I only listen to comedy podcasts. And only when I’m driving.”