Attempt Six: 3:22 PM
Final period had ended. Cassidy was beyond frustrated. She was entering a new dimension of frustration. A dimension where rational thought no longer applied.
"Where IS he?"
Harlow checked her phone. "I don't know. Maybe he went home?"
"He can't go home. He has... jobs or whatever. He should still be here."
"How do you know he has jobs?"
"It was in his file."
They were in the east wing now. Near the vending machines. The hallway was mostly empty, post-school chaos having died down to a trickle of stragglers.
Cassidy had been trying to corner Isaiah Angelo for nearly five hours.
Five hours of failed approaches.
Five hours of interruptions.
Five hours of this absolutely cursed reconnaissance mission.
And she had nothing. NOTHING.
This is humiliating. Vivienne is going to be insufferable about this. "Oh, you couldn't even have a simple conversation? How disappointing, Cassidy."
I hate everything.
The vending machine stood there. Innocently. Full of snacks she didn't want.
But it was THERE. And she was ANGRY. And sometimes anger needed an outlet.
She kicked it.
The vending machine did not care.
Her foot, however, cared very much.
"OW."
Pain shot up her leg. The kind of pain that reminded you that vending machines were made of metal and bones were not.
"OW OW OW OW—"
She hopped on one foot, grabbing the injured one.
"OW. STUPID. MACHINE. OW."
A shadow fell over her.
She looked up.
Isaiah Angelo stood there. That two-toned hair. Those tired eyes. That slight smirk on his face.
Looking down at her like she was the most amusing thing he'd seen all day.
"Did the vending machine steal your money too?"
Cassidy froze.
For approximately three seconds, her brain refused to process the situation.
He's here.
He's RIGHT HERE.
I've been chasing him all day and he just APPEARS while I'm hopping around like an idiot.
The universe hates me. That's the only explanation.
"I'm... I'm fine."
"You were yelling 'ow.'"
"That was... aggressive physical therapy."
"For your foot?"
"YES."
He raised an eyebrow. That infuriating eyebrow. "By kicking a vending machine?"
"It's an experimental technique."
"Is it working?"
"SHUT UP."
The smirk widened. Just slightly. Just enough to make her want to kick him instead of the vending machine.
This is a disaster. This is a complete disaster. I'm supposed to be assessing HIM. Instead he's watching ME have a mental breakdown over snacks.
Harlow appeared from around the corner, breathing slightly heavy like she'd been running. "Cass! I heard screaming! Are you—" She spotted Isaiah. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "OH! Hi Isaiah!"
"Hey."
"How are you? Are you good? You look good! I mean, not GOOD good, just healthy good! Like you've been eating! Have you been eating? You should eat! I have snacks!"
She started rummaging through her bag, producing an alarming variety of individually wrapped treats.
"Thanks. I'm good."
"Are you SURE? Because I have chips, and cookies, and those little crackers with the peanut butter, and—"
"Harlow." Cassidy's voice was strained. "Stop offering him food."
"But he might be HUNGRY!"
"He said he's fine!"
"People SAY they're fine when they're NOT fine! That's basic emotional awareness!"
Isaiah looked between the two sisters. The frustrated one with the injured foot. The enthusiastic one with the snack bag.
"Is something going on here?"
"NO." Cassidy straightened up, trying to recover her dignity. Her foot still hurt. She ignored it. "Nothing is going on. We just happened to be in this hallway. Near where you would be. Coincidentally."
"Coincidentally."
"Yes."
"For five hours?"
Cassidy's brain stalled. "What?"
"I noticed you." His voice was calm. Almost bored. "In the hallway after second period. Near the cafeteria at lunch. Outside the library. In English class. And now here."
"You... noticed."
"You're not exactly subtle. Neither is the jingling." He nodded toward Harlow's bag. The keychains chimed softly, as if acknowledging their role in the surveillance failure.
He knew. He knew the ENTIRE TIME.
I've been stalking him and he's been AWARE of it.
Kill me. Just let me die right here next to this vending machine.
Harlow was unphased. "We wanted to talk to you! About a job! A really good job! With lots of money! And benefits! Probably! I'm not sure about the benefits actually, that's more Vivienne's department, but—"
"HARLOW."
"What? Isn't that why we're here?"
Isaiah's smirk had evolved into something approaching genuine amusement. "A job?"
"She's confused." Cassidy tried to salvage the situation. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."
"I definitely know what I'm talking about. You said we're recruiting him."
"I said we're ASSESSING him."
"For recruitment."
"THOSE ARE DIFFERENT THINGS."
"They really aren't!"
Isaiah leaned against the vending machine. The same vending machine that had assaulted Cassidy's foot. Traitor appliance.
"Let me guess." His voice was thoughtful. "This is about the personal assistant position."
Cassidy's jaw dropped. "How do you—"
"Dr. Reyes mentioned it. 'High-profile family.' 'Substantial compensation.' 'Requires discretion.'" He shrugged. "The math wasn't hard."
"The... math."
"There's one family in this school with enough money to offer 'substantial compensation' for a student assistant." His eyes met hers. "Valentine. Not exactly a mystery."
He figured it out. Before we even talked to him. He already knew.
While I was hiding behind potted plants, he was piecing together the entire situation.
I don't know whether to be impressed or furious.
Both. She decided on both.
"Fine. Yes. It's about the job." She crossed her arms. "Happy?"
"Mildly entertained."
"That's not the same as happy."
"It's close enough."
Harlow, who had been watching this exchange like a tennis match, finally found an opening.
"So will you do it? The job? Please? I'll give you ALL my snacks!"
"Harlow, you can't bribe potential employees with snacks."
"Why not? Snacks are valuable!"
Isaiah pushed off from the vending machine. His expression was unreadable now. That calm mask she'd seen the first day they met. The one that made her want to throw things.
"You want to interview me?"
"Yes." Cassidy's voice was sharp. Professional. She was recovering. "Formally. At the manor. This weekend."
"This weekend."
"Is that a problem?"
"I work weekends."
"Then take time off."
"That's not how employment works."
"It's how MY employment offers work."
They stared at each other. Something crackled in the air between them. Not hostility exactly. Something else. Something Cassidy couldn't name and didn't want to examine.
Harlow's head swiveled between them like she was watching a very interesting movie.
Finally, Isaiah spoke.
"Saturday. Afternoon. I can move some things around."
"Good."
"I'll need the address."
"I'll have someone send it."
"Someone?"
"Our current assistant. Miranda. She handles logistics."
"Of course she does."
Cassidy didn't know what that meant. She decided not to ask.
"Two o'clock." She turned to leave. Paused. Turned back. "And for the record, I wasn't stalking you."
"You were following me for five hours."
"That's... thorough assessment."
"It's stalking."
"It's NOT—"
"Cassidy." His voice was quiet. Almost gentle. "It's fine. I get it."
"You get WHAT?"
"You wanted to see what kind of person I am before committing to an interview. Whether I'd notice. Whether I'd confront you. Whether I'd run." That smirk again. "I don't run."
He walked past her. Toward the exit.
"Saturday. Two o'clock. I'll be there."
And then he was gone.