Page 7 of The Executioners Three

Freddie was devastated. Defeated . Destroyed .

The entire ride to school was a melancholic affair of soaking clothes and soaking biscuits. No one had said anything. All the fun from before had vanished, and as far as Freddie was concerned, Lance Bass’s magic must have ended.

The keychain had betrayed her. Theo Porter was the actual devil. A pox on him and a pox on Allard Fortin Preparatory School.

Now here Freddie was, staring dejectedly into her locker. Her wool sweater stank in that manure way that only wool could, and she didn’t have anything else to wear.

She moaned and banged her head against the metal frame.

Hadn’t she been through enough on Wednesday night with the screams and the arrests and her lost scarf ?

! Then yesterday’s suicide that wasn’t a suicide, and now today’s almost perfect morning had been ruined by a villainous out-of-towner stealing the most sacred object of the Berm High senior class.

The thought of going to first-period chorus and singing cheerful show tunes sounded truly torturous—and that made Freddie angry too!

Normally, she loved Mr. Binder. Not only was he the chorus and drama teacher, but he also ran three local shops: West End Wines, Pottery-a-Plenty, and finally, the Frame & Foto.

With its state-of-the-art darkroom, Freddie loved the Frame & Foto. Especially since Mr. Binder’s partner, Greg, had taught Freddie how to use it a year ago, and now she had her very own key for developing Xena’s photos whenever she wanted.

Doodle-loo, doodle-loo doo, doodle-loo doo, doo!

The Nokia ringtone sounded from behind the locker door. Freddie slammed it shut, expecting to find Divya staring at a surprise phone call. Instead, she found Kyle staring at one.

“I don’t know this number.” His brow pinched up adorably. In his right hand was a letterman jacket. In his left was the Nokia.

Doodle-loo, doodle-loo doo, doodle-loo doo, doo!

“Should I answer?” he asked Freddie.

“Um.” Freddie had no idea what to say. She was already reeling from the fact that he was standing right next to her.

Fortunately, Kyle came to a decision on his own.

“I probably shouldn’t answer at school.” He hit a button and shoved the device into his pocket.

Then he lobbed his green eyes onto Freddie.

“Hello.” He beamed. “I brought this for you to wear, since I think your sweater might be…” His nose curled as he offered her the jacket.

She flushed.

“You don’t have to wear it, though,” he added. “I just thought you might want—”

“Yes.” Freddie snatched the letterman from him with far too much enthusiasm. Then laughed, high-pitched and twittery. “Thank you. I… I’ll return it after school.”

“Sounds good.” He shifted his weight. Glanced once at his toes. Then at Freddie’s locker. Then finally he blurted, “What are you doing tonight?”

Freddie’s breath caught. “Uh… nothing, I guess.”

“Nothing? On a Friday?” His green eyes widened.

“Er…” Freddie wasn’t about to admit that she and Divya usually spent Fridays at Divya’s house watching TGIF on channel 9.

Kyle angled in closer, and Freddie prayed her breath didn’t stink of biscuits. He was so close—close enough that she could smell him. A soft, manly soap smell that made her want to produce guttural noises in the back of her throat.

“Wanna hang out?” he asked.

She nodded. “Wh-where?”

The bell rang. She jumped. Kyle jumped. Then he laughed. “I’ll come find you after school.” He flashed another flawless smile, and she couldn’t help but notice as he sauntered down the hall that his white shirt was still damp from the water balloons—and therefore deliciously clingy.

She watched until he was long gone. Until every person in the hall had filed away and Principal Tamura snapped at Freddie to get to class. Then Freddie frantically peeled off her sweater and slipped Kyle’s jacket over her undershirt.

It smelled divine .

She raced down the mustard halls, carried on a cloud of wonderment.

Kyle Friedman had asked her out. He had asked her to meet at a place, for some time.

And as she coasted blissfully through chorus, then trig, then history, she once again decided Fridays were the most perfect day of the week.

Theo Porter hadn’t ruined it—he’d made it amazing. Theo Porter and a Lance Bass keychain.

And that was only a fraction of Freddie’s amazing day.

Because it wasn’t merely the cross-country team or the Prank Squad who smiled at her (and at Divya too).

The entirety of Berm High had something nice to say.

She got high fives from four teachers, three lunch servers, and Coach Lenox, who said, “Way to knock out the Woodchucks for a whole season!”

Freddie had basically become a superhero overnight, and all of this small town talking, she decided, was the best.

Of course, when the final bell rang and Freddie scrambled out of seventh-period Spanish to bolt for her locker, she nearly collided headfirst with Principal Tamura.

“Simmer down,” said Tamura, grabbing Freddie’s shoulders. A dejected Divya stood three feet away.

“What’s going on?” Freddie asked Tamura, who was—as usual—dressed way too well for Berm High in her tailored pinstripe suit and fire-engine-red lipstick.

“Follow me,” Tamura responded. “Both of you. You’ll be meeting with a counselor in my office right now.”

“Right now?” Freddie squawked.

“That is literally what I just said.”

“But… I can’t.” Freddie flung a wild look at Divya. “I’m meeting Kyle Friedman at my locker.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Tamura said. “You’re meeting a boy? Why, that changes everything.”

“Really?” Freddie’s lips began to quirk.

“Of course not.” Tamura thrust a pointed finger down the hall. “Walk, Gellar. Now. The nice gentleman is waiting.”

“But we don’t need counseling,” Divya moaned, as Freddie fell into shambling steps beside her bestie. “I didn’t even see the dead body.”

“And I only saw his shoes.” Freddie gazed, grief-stricken, behind her. Students flooded the hallway, but she couldn’t see Kyle. She hugged his letterman jacket more tightly to her. It smelled like manly man soap, but how long would that last?

“Your parents both think you’d benefit from talking to someone.” Tamura strode ahead, and upon reaching her office door, she shoved it wide. “Now go on in and be good, okay? Show the nice man what our Lumberjack spirit is all about.”

The girls shuffled in. Freddie glowered at Divya and Divya glowered right back until they were in the office and facing a handsome man with gray hair and dark brown eyes. Like an older, less goofy Ross from Friends —but with a silver beard added.

“Hello, girls,” he said with a smile. “I’m Dr. Born.”

“Hi,” they mumbled in unison.

“Thank you, Principal.” He nodded toward Tamura at the door. “We won’t be more than an hour.”

“An hour?” Freddie turned to Divya with horror.

“Kill me now.” Divya buried her face in her hands.

“I can hear you, you know.” Dr. Born circled behind Tamura’s desk while the door clicked shut and cut off sounds of free students who weren’t trapped in purgatory. They got to meet their crushes at their lockers. They got to live happily ever after.

Dr. Born sat at Tamura’s desk and waved for the girls to sit too.

So Freddie and Divya complied, dropping stiffly onto matching black armchairs.

Tamura’s office was as sleek as she was.

Freddie had no idea where she’d gotten the modern-style furniture, but it definitely wasn’t from anywhere in Berm.

And it definitely didn’t match the rest of the ancient school.

“So,” Freddie began at the same time Dr. Born said, “I want to begin…” He trailed off, smiling once more. “Go ahead, Freddie.”

“Thank you.” She sat taller. “Who hired you? My parents or Divya’s?”

“Both.”

This surprised Freddie. For years now, she’d heard Steve nudging Mom to go into therapy and finally reckon with her grief over Frank Carter’s death. Now Mom was essentially forcing her own daughter to do what she wouldn’t?

Pot, meet kettle.

Also, pot, meet stubborn daughter who wasn’t about to take this lying down.

“And who found you?” Freddie continued. “You’re obviously not local, or we’d know you.”

“I live an hour away, but I practice here once a week.”

“Is this normal?” Divya inserted, donning her sharpest glare. “Interrogating two people at once?”

“Well, we don’t call it ‘interrogating,’ but yes. Sometimes when people have witnessed something traumatizing together, it’s helpful to work through it together as well.”

“I didn’t even see the dead body,” Divya repeated.

“And I only saw his shoes,” Freddie chimed.

“Tell me about that, Freddie.” Dr. Born lifted a fancy pen off the desk. The kind of pen that Freddie thought people only gave as gifts but never actually used. “I want to know what you saw, and more importantly, what you felt seeing it.”

“Well, here’s what I want to know, Dr. Born.” Freddie folded her hands on her lap. “Why is it that our parents hired you when there are counselors right here in Berm?”

“Freddie.” A hint of warning in the man’s voice now.

“And how much do you charge? Is it by the hour? Or is there some kind of two-for-one special?”

“Freddie.” No hinting now. He was annoyed. “I see what you’re trying to do, and you won’t succeed at it. The fact that you’re even trying to deflect this session suggests you do need counseling.”

“She does.” Divya nodded and stood. “But I do not. And thank you so much for understanding—”

“Sit back down, Divya. Please.” Now Dr. Born was really annoyed—although it was also clear he was trying to hide it. “Your dad is the one who reached out to me, Divya, so please consider that he is worried about you.”

Divya plunked back into her armchair. “ Fine . Interrogate us.”

“Still not an interrogation.” He tipped down his chin so he could stare from the tops of his eyes. A classic adult look of condescension. “And what about you, Freddie? Will you cooperate?”