And that's exactly what he did say to the kids who turned up—at least, to those who actually noticed him. Despite the fact that it was his birthday, most of the guests ignored him entirely. Only one little girl, Leticia, even bothered with him, and she followed him around purely to annoy. She dogged his footsteps as he picked at the piles of chicken wings, pork dumplings, spring rolls, spiced cutlets, bread sticks, Thai salad, barbecued ribs, and vol-au-vents arrayed across the dining-room table.
"Yuck," she said, watching him deftly whip a spring roll off one plate. "What's that?"
"A spring roll."
"It looks disgusting."
"Good." Cadel stuffed it into his mouth. "More for me if you don't like them."
"Yuck! How can you eat that?"
"With my teeth."
"Eew! That one's
green.
"
"Because it's made out of grape leaves."
"How can you eat
leaves?
Caterpillars eat leaves."
Cadel rolled his eyes.
"I'm hungry, and there's nothing to eat!" moaned Leticia. "Don't you have any sandwiches?"
"No," said Cadel, "but there's cheese." Leticia looked around suspiciously.
"What kind of cheese?" she queried, and pointed at a round of Camembert. "Not
that
kind. That's yucky. I won't eat that."
"Very wise," a smooth voice suddenly remarked. Glancing up, Cadel saw Thaddeus standing in the doorway. He wore a light jacket over a crisp shirt and was cradling a gift-wrapped parcel.
"You probably shouldn't eat anything you haven't pulled out of the ground yourself," Thaddeus went on gravely, addressing Leticia. "Processed foods are full of insect residue."
Leticia stared, openmouthed. "Huh?" she said.
"Little tiny bits of wings and legs and carapace," Thaddeus explained. "Stuff you can only see under a microscope. You can't keep it out of things like bread and meat and cereal. Most of us must eat the equivalent of—oh, at least two cockroaches a day."
"I do not!" Leticia protested, her eyes wide with horror. "I do not eat cockroaches!"
"Of course you do. We all do."
"I do not!"
"And spiders," Thaddeus continued with relish. He bared his long teeth in a wolfish smile. "And big, fat blowflies."
"Mummy!" Leticia cried, before bolting from the kitchen. Cadel and Thaddeus both listened to her clumsy tread and piercing cries, which slowly faded as she escaped into the garden.
"What a repulsive creature," Thaddeus finally observed, thrusting his present under Cadel's nose. "Happy birthday, dear boy. If you've already got it, I've kept the receipt—but I'm told that it's a must-have."
Cadel took the parcel with a shy smile. He was desperately relieved to see Thaddeus. Disoriented by his sleepless night, buffeted by the noise and the crowds and the unexpected blows he'd received, he felt safe in Thaddeus's company.
The psychologist's gift was a book:
Parallel Distributed Processing—Explorations in the Microstructure of Cognition, Volume 2.
Cadel examined it with pleasure.
"Thanks," he said.
"You haven't got it?" asked Thaddeus.
"Only volume one."
"Oh, good."
"It's the only decent present I've had today."
"Really? What did the Piggotts give you?"
"Nothing. Yet."
"Though they have pulled all the stops out for your party." Thaddeus jerked his head at the scene beyond the door: the tons of food, the vats of punch, the roaring mass of people. "I was actually forced to park in the next street."
"Oh yeah," Cadel replied, dryly. "Nothing's too good for the birthday boy."
"No wonder you're looking a little lost, if I may say so."
"I always get lost in this place," Cadel replied, and Thaddeus studied him closely. Before the psychologist could speak, however, someone else cut into their conversation.
"Your birthday, Cadel?" a harsh voice inquired.
Cadel turned around. He was astonished to see Mrs. Brezeck, his former mathematics teacher, standing about five feet away. She wore a long tan coat and a green scarf around her neck. She looked ruffled.
"Mrs.
Brezeck
?" Cadel exclaimed. "How did—gosh, they didn't tell me they invited
you.
"
"I wasn't invited," she said. "I just walked in."
"Oh." Cadel didn't know how to respond. It was odd, seeing her in such familiar surroundings—like seeing a ghost. She stepped forward suddenly, her purse clutched to her chest, her mouth set in a thin, straight line.
"I came here to say that I know what you did, Cadel." She almost hissed the words. "I've been following through. It all leads back to you, all of it."
Cadel blinked. Though he didn't feel strong enough to cope with this attack, he forced himself not to swallow or to glance aside. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"You know
exactly
what I'm talking about," Mrs. Brezeck spat. "Just before the English exam, Angélique told Damian she was breaking up with him, and he ran his car into a tree. Couldn't take his exams. Angélique was so shattered that she failed hers. I've spoken to Angélique, and she said she gave Damian his marching orders because of a letter she received from Eleather Parsons accusing Damian of taking advantage of her on the night of the formal. According to Heather, she wrote that letter because Jessica told
her
that Angélique had been calling Heather a slut—something that Jessica heard from
you,
Cadel."
Cadel stared blankly.
"Then there was Colm Cartwright. He somehow got a copy of several exam papers over the Internet before he had to do them. Funny, that, isn't it? When you consider that he can hardly manage a word-processing program. Naturally, they were fake papers. Naturally, he prepared for the wrong questions. I can't prove it yet, Cadel, but I know you were responsible for
that,
too!"
Cadel shook his head. "No, I wasn't."
"Don't
lie
to me!" Mrs. Brezeck yelped, and took another step forward, one forefinger raised. Before she could reach Cadel, however, Thaddeus's arm shot out, barring her way.
"I don't believe we've met," he said coolly, at which point she glared up at him like a snappy little terrier.
"Who are
you
?" she growled. "His father?"
"Just a family friend."
"Well, you should know, Mr.
Friend,
that this child is a
demon.
He's a
criminal.
He ought to be
locked up.
"
"Oh, what nonsense," Thaddeus drawled. "This little fellow here?"
But Mrs. Brezeck refused to be distracted any longer. She turned back to Cadel.
"I'm going to get you for this," she warned him, over Thaddeus's arm. "You've ruined the lives of dozens of great kids. I'm going to gather up my proof and I'm going to have you charged with being a public nuisance."
Cadel, who was beginning to lose his temper, stared at her with cold, hard eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous," he replied. "Nuisance laws are about the use and enjoyment of land, or property."
"Speaking of which," Thaddeus remarked, "isn't there something on the statute books about trespass? I believe you said you weren't invited?"
Mrs. Brezeck hesitated. Then she wagged her finger again.
"You think about it," she declared, thrusting her face as close to Cadel as she could. "Just think about it. Because if you don't come clean and give those kids another chance, then you'll pay for it, Cadel. I'll hunt you down in the end."
Abruptly, she turned on her heel. Thaddeus and Cadel both watched her walk out of the house, clumsily brushing past people who had glasses of beer in their hands.
"Don't worry," said Thaddeus, his gaze still on the teacher's back. "I'll take care of it."
"No." Cadel spoke firmly. "
I
will."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of pleasure tug at the corner of Thaddeus's mouth.
The party fizzled out at about six o'clock that night, by which time Thaddeus had departed. Never once had he left Cadel's side during the course of the afternoon. Though they hadn't been able to talk much (because of all the people), he did manage to reassure Cadel before he finally said good-bye.
"I'll put Adolf on it," he murmured into Cadel's ear. "Get him to send out a surveillance team to keep an eye on you."
"But—"
"Better safe than sorry, Cadel. You won't know it's here."
"But nothing's going to
happen,
" Cadel protested. "It's only Mrs. Brezeck!"
"Now, Cadel." Thaddeus fixed him with a penetrating look. "What have I always told you?"
"'Never underestimate the enemy,'" Cadel quoted with a sigh. "But I really don't think—"
"Take it easy, Cadel." Thaddeus patted his back, straightening. "I'll talk to you soon."
Cadel was surprised at Thaddeus. He thought that the psychologist was overreacting wildly to any threat that Mrs. Brezeck might pose. Not that she
didn't
pose a threat. Cadel knew that she did; the woman was obsessed. But she wasn't about to hunt him down with a bow and arrow. She wasn't about to poison his food. What she
would
do, he feared, was take the whole matter to a lawyer. So, after returning to his bedroom, he dug out some of his law books.
Suppose Mrs. Brezeck did find proof? It was highly unlikely, but not, he feared, impossible. Though he had covered his tracks pretty well, he might have been a bit lazy, if only because he'd never expected that anyone would even
begin
to put two and two together. Even so, he wasn't sure that he could be charged with any civil or criminal offense. The common-law action of deceit, he knew, had to stem from purely economic loss; could the loss of missing out on a place in college be termed "economic"? As for the tort of injurious falsehood, that wouldn't apply here, surely? He had never directly told anyone a lie. Unless the planting of the fake exams could be classified as "false representation." But no one would be able to prove that he'd done any such thing—not with the kind of re-mailers he'd used.
It was all very confusing for Cadel, who had been given, in Dr. Deal's classes, only a quick, glancing overview of the law. He did wonder, for a moment, if he should consult Dr. Deal, but then dismissed the idea. No point giving the man any counter-ammunition. No, if he needed legal advice, he would ask Thaddeus. Thaddeus would find him a lawyer.
In the meantime, he would try to ensure that the whole business never reached the stage of hiring lawyers. His best bet would be to review all the steps he'd taken to bring down the twelfth grade, and to make sure he hadn't forgotten to plug any holes. He would also have to update and expand his old research on Mrs. Brezeck. If she had any shady secrets, Cadel would have to track them down and use them against her.
Oddly enough, he was pleased to be faced with such a mighty task, because it took his mind off Kay-Lee. Fishing around for electronic passwords was a good way of avoiding gloomy thoughts about Kay-Lee or his mother. While the Piggotts staggered off to bed, complaining loudly about being "worn out" because they'd had to supervise Mrs. Ang and the caterers, Cadel worked away at his computer. He worked until 2:00
A.M.,
then dropped, fully clothed, onto his handwoven bedspread.
The next day, he was woken at about eleven by the trilling of his cell phone. He nearly fell onto the floor trying to reach it.
"Hello?" he croaked.
"Cadel?"
"Thaddeus?"
"Oh dear. You were asleep."
"Urn. Not really. I was just ... I have to go to the bathroom."
"Before you do, Cadel, let me just say how much I admired the way you handled that incident yesterday. It showed great presence of mind."
"Huh?" It took Cadel a moment to remember the incident in question. "Oh. Right. Thanks," he said groggily.
"And don't worry—she won't be bothering you again."
"What?" Cadel suddenly jerked awake. "You haven't
done
anything? Thaddeus?"
"No, no." The psychologist spoke soothingly. "You told me you could handle it, Cadel, and I believe you. I just wanted to say that she won't be bursting in unexpectedly anymore. I've got a surveillance team posted, watching your back."
Cadel said nothing. He wasn't sure that this was entirely good news.
"So I'll see you on Monday," Thaddeus continued. "Same time, same place."
"Okay. Uh—thanks."
Click!
Thaddeus had hung up. Cadel lay for a while, staring at the ceiling, his computer phone clasped in his hand. At last he rose. After a brief visit to the bathroom, he snatched a granola bar from the pantry and returned to his computer. He didn't bother to change. He didn't bother to shower, or to clean his teeth.
He wanted to immerse himself in an electronic world and forget that his body even existed.
Lanna was still sleeping, so he didn't have to worry about her. Clearly she was still recovering from the party and its stresses. Stuart was nowhere to be seen. (Off on another interstate trip, no doubt.) Cadel busied himself with various housekeeping tasks, which had to be completed before he could really settle down and foil Mrs. Brezeck. This didn't mean that he picked up all the Game Boys strewn on his floor or tidied the clothes in his closet; it meant that he checked his email, switched re-mailers, fiddled with dynamic passwords, and generally cleared away a variety of small, annoying jobs, like Partner Post, for instance, so he could concentrate on more important things.
He had been on the verge of shutting down Partner Post even before Kay-Lee's devastating message. It had begun to bore him. Now, of course, he could hardly bear to download all the new stuff that had come in—all that whiny, sentimental, deluded garbage. He felt almost sick as he scrolled through what seemed like hectares of badly spelled, unoriginal pleas and promises. There was even a
new
applicant! Help! Cadel scanned the message that had been sent.
I've been led astray in my life ... looking for the Right One ... am caring person wanting to commit ... green eyes, dark hair, 53 yrs old, 178.5 cm tall, 73 kg, birthday on the twelfth of January, divorced in '92, no one serious since then ... need someone who can bring meaning to my existence ... soul mate ... looks not an issue ... preferably a Cancer...