Double-Crossed (10 page)

“Afterward, I imagine she'll want to say a few words about helping the schools and so on and so forth, pose for the usual photos, hopefully a few with yours truly, and we'll have her on her way by eight. How's that sound?”

“Totally amazing,” I said, even though no one had asked me.

Mr. Ballard laughed his big laugh and slapped me on the back, too. I was prepared, though, and remained upright.

“All right, folks,” he said. “Let's get this show on the road, shall we?”

From that moment on, everything went into fast motion. It was astonishing to see how quickly the beach club filled up. One minute it was practically empty, and by six forty-five, the deck was swarming with well-dressed people sipping drinks and chatting away. Most of the members brought their kids. Sean and Jared were there, looking bored and superior. The Feldmans were there but without Ben. They said he was sleeping over at his cousin's birthday party in Disneyland. That sounded pretty awesome. The General did show up, wearing a shirt and tie and dressy pants. It was actually the first time I had ever seen him out of his camouflage uniform.

“So I guess since you're a civilian tonight, I don't have to salute,” I said to him as he got a Coke from the bar.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” he asked.

Okay, I admit it wasn't hilarious. But it wouldn't have killed him to just laugh a little and then take a swig of his Coke. He didn't have to be such a jerk about it.

I guess when you're a jerk, it's hard not to be a jerk. That's all there is to it.

The General went to join Sean and Jared, and they stood around looking bored together. I wondered if their parents had paid two hundred and fifty dollars each for them to come. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have so much money that you could spend two hundred and fifty dollars to bore the pants off your kids.

The SF2 girls were the opposite of bored. Led by Lauren, they followed Tyler around like a herd of high-heeled sheep as he shot pictures of the well-dressed crowd. They plastered on smiles and stuck their heads into every group shot. I was surprised to see how aggressive Charlie was in the sticking-her-head-in-the-shot game. I remember when she was a shy little kid who would hide behind me when GoGo would take us to the mall to get our picture taken with Santa Claus. Now here she was, mugging at the camera and sticking her face in every time a flash went off.

By seven thirty, it was almost dark and the governor still hadn't arrived. Mr. Ballard checked his watch nervously.

“I don't want folks to go home,” he told Ms. Carew, “so I think we had better get on with the show. The governor must be stuck in traffic.”

Ms. Carew gathered up all the Truth Tellers for a last-minute pep talk.

“I don't want to start yet,” Bernard complained. “I want to wait for the governor.”

“Me too,” Will agreed. “I was planning to ask her to dance after Sara and I finish our routine.”

“We don't have a choice about when we go on,” Ms. Carew said. “We're performing at the request of Councilman Ballard, and he's asked us to begin. So begin we shall. Sammie, I'd like you to go first. Your monologue is a very appropriate way to kick things off.”

My heart leaped into my throat. I wished she had asked someone else to go first. I was the newest member of Truth Tellers and the most inexperienced.

“But, Ms. Carew—” I began.

“Just do your best out there,” she said before I had a chance to protest. “Be honest when you speak, and concentrate on what you're feeling. Speak from the heart. All the rest will follow.”

Alicia took my hand as we prepared to go onstage. Both our palms were a sweaty mess. I looked out into the crowd and got even more nervous, if that was possible. It wasn't easy performing in front of so many people. Especially this group of fancy, rich people.

“I don't see Oscar,” I said.

I scanned the horizon and could barely make out the group of SF2 boys down on the beach. They looked like purple shadows against the night sky. I saw Eddie with them, but I didn't think Oscar was there. “I don't see him down there with the other guys,” I said.

“It's just like them, isn't it?” Alicia said. “They can't even be part of the audience. I'm sure they consider us too boring to watch.”

I really wished I could find Oscar in the crowd. Even though I was nervous, I wanted him to see me perform. I thought I was going to faint when Mr. Ballard walked up to our little stage and tapped on the microphone to get everyone's attention.

“I can't do this,” I whispered to Alicia.

“Yes, you can, Sammie. Just believe in yourself.”

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Ballard began in his big, booming voice. Miraculously, the glasses stopped tinkling and the crowd grew silent.

“I thank you for coming out tonight to raise money for this worthy cause,” he said. “We want our kids in America to be exposed to all the arts . . . music, drama, drawing. In fact, you know what they call an American drawing, don't you? A Yankee doodle!”

Only a few people chuckled, but it didn't matter to Mr. Ballard. He laughed like he was being tickled under his arms.

“We're hoping Governor Corday will join us tonight, but while we're waiting, I want to introduce you to a great bunch of kids. They call themselves the Truth Tellers, and they're here to show us what participating in an arts program can do. Kids, the stage is all yours.”

We filed onto the stage and Ms. Carew introduced us one by one. Then it was my turn to go on. As I walked up to the microphone, I was sure I could hear my knees knocking against each other. I was doing that nervous sweating thing I do, and I could feel little beads of perspiration forming on my upper lip.

Stay calm
, I told myself.
Ignore the sweat spurting from your face. Speak from the heart. The rest will take care of itself.

I took a deep breath and began.

“My name is Sammie Diamond,” I said, “and before I found Truth Tellers, I was a jock. What mattered to me was winning. But then I discovered—”

Before I could say another word, I heard the sound of a siren approaching the club. A police car, its lights flashing, pulled up to the gate, and behind it, a big black limousine. Everyone turned away from the stage. Officer Beswick sprang into action, shining his flashlight onto the limo. The windows were blacked out and we couldn't see inside. Then the door opened and a tall woman with perfectly styled blond hair and wearing a red suit stepped out. As if by magic, Tyler Frank was suddenly next to her, snapping pictures as she made her way into the crowd. Charlie and Lauren and their crew surrounded her, sticking their heads into the shot and waving and smiling.

Governor Corday ignored all the fuss and made her way directly up to the stage.

“Hello, Tom,” she said to Mr. Ballard. “Glad I could make it. What do we have here?”

“A presentation by the Truth Tellers, Governor,” he said. “Some of our fine kids who are involved in the arts.”

Governor Corday smiled. She looked picture-perfect, every hair in place.

“Very good,” she said. “I'm eager to hear what they have to say.”

Brushing aside the photographers, she took a seat in the front row. She looked right at me, adjusted her pearls, nodded, and waited for me to begin. The governor of the whole state . . . and her pearls . . . were waiting for me.

Take that, Lauren Wadsworth! Take that, size-minus-zero jeans! Take that, bouncy-haired top models! Take that, my sweaty upper lip!

Look at me and watch where the truth can take you!

Flame On!

Chapter 11

“Drama. Dance. Art. Poetry,” I heard myself saying at the end of my talk. “These are the ways we humans express our deepest truths. These are the ways we ask questions and seek answers. All forms of art bring us beauty and joy. When I was only an athlete, winning was the answer. Now that I am an artist, it is the questions that matter. The questions that allow me to find my path and find the truth about who I truly am.”

Everyone in the audience had stopped talking and munching on appetizers and stood still, listening to what I, Sammie Diamond, had to say. As I ended my speech and moved away from the microphone, my ears filled with the sound of applause. It wasn't just polite applause, either. It felt real. Councilman Ballard let out a loud whoop. Lily March's mom yelled, “That's telling it like it is, Sammie!” Even the governor gave me a standing ovation. I was dizzy with excitement. All I could focus on was her shiny scarlet nails creating a moving red blur as she applauded.

I wasn't the only one who got a standing ovation. The rest of the Truth Tellers were amazing, too. And when Will and Sara ended the program with their dance medley, the crowd went nuts. Will was so happy, he must have taken fifteen bows. I'm telling you, he looked about six feet tall.

“These young people have done a truly outstanding job,” Governor Corday said to the crowd when we finished our presentation. “They're a fine example of why we need to support the arts in our schools. Bravo, Truth Tellers!”

She stood on our little stage, clapping her hands in honor of us. Well, she was clapping the best she could because the wind had really kicked up during our performance and was blowing her perfect hair so it was sticking straight up from her scalp. In between claps, she'd reach up to try to smooth it down, very aware that Tyler was clicking away on his camera. I'm no expert at politics, but I'm pretty sure the last thing a governor wants is to have her picture taken when she looks like she just stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

Will was determined to dance with the governor. When she finished her remarks, he actually asked her to dance, although with the wind whirling around her ears, I'm not sure she heard him. He took that as a yes. Before she could ask him to repeat himself, he put his arm around her waist, and I swear this is true, actually laid his head somewhere on her chestal area. From my vantage point, I couldn't see exactly where it landed, but it was definitely above the waist and below the pearls. Will wasn't trying to be inappropriate or anything, it just so happened that because he's short, his head could only reach that delicate part of her anatomy.

Governor Corday was classy enough to laugh it off and let Will take her on a spin, but when he tried to dip her, she was way too heavy for him and started to sink to the ground. In a show of great reflexes, Spencer leaped up from the audience to catch her before she hit the deck. Simultaneously, Ms. Carew reached out and grabbed her hand. Between the two of them, they saved her from landing smack on her behind. Recovering her composure immediately, the governor shook Ms. Carew's hand like she had always planned to do it and Tyler snapped some more pictures. It was a totally impressive recovery.

Governor Corday went all the way down the line and shook each of our hands while she delivered a personal compliment. She told Alicia that the pottery decorations she demonstrated were beautiful and should never become a lost art. She told Bernard he was quite the drummer. You'll notice that her comment carefully avoided the question of whether or not he's a
good
drummer. She told Sara and Will that they should consider trying out for a dance reality show on TV. All the while, Tyler was snapping pictures like a madman.

When the governor got to me, she pressed my hand warmly and told me how brave I was to reveal my vulnerability in a public forum. She said she wished more politicians would learn from that example. Then she stood right next to me so Tyler could get a shot of just the two of us. I looked out and saw Charlie and Lauren and the other girls watching me get a solo picture taken with the governor. At first, it felt great. Then it felt bad. Then it felt great again. Then it felt great and bad at the same time. The truth is, I couldn't totally enjoy the moment because I was getting what they wanted so badly.

I know what you're thinking, and I'm thinking the same thing. Should I or shouldn't I?

I'll cut to the chase here. I decided I should. For Charlie. For our family. For GoGo, who always says, “When you have a choice between taking the high road and taking the low road, go high.”

“Governor Corday, I have a favor to ask of you,” I blurted out.

“What is it, Sammie?”

Did she say Sammie? Yes, she did. Wow, she remembers my name. Could this night possibly get any better?

“Would you mind taking one more picture, with my sister and her friends?” I asked.

“Oh, are they Truth Tellers, too?”

“No, no, no,” I said with a laugh. “They're so totally not Truth Tellers.”

She raised an eyebrow and I realized how bad that sounded. “Well, not that they're liars,” I sputtered, “but they're not technically Truth Tellers. I mean, they're not officially in our group, but they have their own group, and they'd really like to get their picture taken with you.”

I hoped she wasn't going to ask what their group was, because saying they wanted to be models and have their faces plastered on the cover of
People
magazine didn't have a great ring to it.

“Of course, ask them to come up right away.” Then she whispered in my ear. “Tell them to hurry before this wind blows my wig right off.”

“That's a wig?” I whispered back, stunned that she would just out-and-out say it.

“I don't share that information with everyone, Sammie, but you're a Truth Teller. See how you inspired me?”

I signaled Charlie to come join us and saw her whisper excitedly to Lauren, Brooke, Lily, and Jillian. Grabbing hands, they all bolted up to us and surrounded the governor like a hawk circling its prey.

“Over here, girls,” Tyler called from the front row. “Look into the lens.”

He didn't have to tell them twice, that's for sure. They were all over it, assuming their most extreme model poses and casting über-flirty glances at the camera. Jillian was the worst, raising her arms over her head and sticking her chest out like some Kim Kardashian wannabe.

Oh, wait. Jillian
is
a Kim Kardashian wannabe.

The only two sane-looking ones in the group were Governor Corday and Lily, who both smiled naturally at Tyler and didn't go completely nutso with the posing. Meanwhile, Tom Ballard was back at the microphone, thanking the governor for showing up and reminding people that if they cared about arts in the schools, they should vote for him in the next election.

Suddenly, the wail of sirens filled the air. One minute they weren't there, the next minute all you could hear was sirens, lots of them, approaching the club. Then a voice rang out in the crowd. It was Officer Beswick, speaking into a handheld megaphone from his position at the gate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, stay calm! We have the situation under control!”

If you want people to panic, all you have to do is tell them to stay calm. Everyone gasped and looked around desperately to see what was the matter. Two officers bolted out of the house and up to the stage, surrounding the governor like she was in immediate danger.

What was going on? I looked around frantically, first out at the black ocean, then back at the shore. That was when I saw them. Flames. Huge, bright orange flames billowing out of Mrs. Ivanov's house.

“Fire!” someone yelled.

The crowd moved like a mob, surging toward the gate in a giant human wave.

“That old wooden house will burn like a matchstick!” I heard Dr. Mandel say.

“Remain calm,” Officer Beswick repeated. “Clear the area. Move slowly away from the buildings.”

“It's going to spread to the club,” a panicky woman shouted.

The wind whipped around us, blowing red-hot embers into the night air.

“Santa Ana winds,” Noah Mandel told his father. “Compressed air creates rising temperatures. Fire conditions.”

“Sammie! Charlie!” It was my dad, running from the house to find us, followed by Ryan. “Come with me. We have to evacuate. It's not safe in the house.”

“Mr. Diamond, have you seen Oscar and Eddie?” Alicia asked him, her voice full of worry.

“The police are moving everyone out to the parking lot,” he answered. “That's probably where they are.”

“Where's GoGo?” I hollered. The last I had seen her was right after the performance, when she had returned to the kitchen to bring out another platter of brownies.

My dad's eyes scanned the horizon, looking for GoGo's distinctive gray hair, which she always puts in a knot on top of her head. Nothing. I stayed behind to look for her.

“GoGo!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I squinted through the smoky air, trying to see into our kitchen window. She wasn't there.

“Where could she be?” Charlie cried, grabbing me by the arm.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. I knew where she was! Not that I had seen her, but I know my grandmother, and I figured out exactly what she would do in this situation. I broke loose from my dad and bolted across the deck toward Mrs. Ivanov's house. As I neared the flames, I could feel their heat on my face.

“Stay away, young lady,” Officer Beswick called into his megaphone. “The firefighters will be here any second. Let them handle this.”

The flames were concentrated in the front of the house, leaping out from the living room that faced the sandy beach. It was the room where Mrs. Ivanov had been sitting earlier that day when I brought her the meal from GoGo. She had been so happy and peaceful, resting in her white wicker rocking chair and looking through an old photo album. And now, that peaceful room was being consumed by flames!

I approached the house cautiously after Officer Beswick left to meet the firefighters, but was forced back when one of her blue-and-white-striped deck umbrellas caught on fire, exploding like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July.

“Mrs. Ivanov,” I shouted above the roar of the fire. “Are you in there?”

“We're over here, Sammie.”

It was GoGo's voice, coming from the side of the house. She was at the side door, very slowly making her way out. Holding on to her arm for dear life was Mrs. Ivanov, looking frail and frightened in her pink bathrobe.

“GoGo, you have to get out of there!” I screamed.

“The poor dear can't go any faster!” she yelled back.

Suddenly, I felt a strong, familiar arm push me aside.

“Clear the way, Sam-I-Am,” Ryan said, swooping in from behind me. “I've got speed and height on my side.”

He raced past me and in two seconds flat arrived at the side door. In one swift movement, he scooped Mrs. Ivanov up into his giant arms.

“I have you,” he said to her, with no trace of his usual goofiness. “Hang on tight.”

“But my photographs are inside,” she cried. “My whole life.”

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ivanov. We can't go back in there. It's too dangerous. GoGo, are you okay?”

“Take care of Mrs. Ivanov,” she told him. “I'll follow right behind you!”

Ryan ran across the deck holding poor Mrs. Ivanov in his arms, while I raced over and grabbed GoGo by the hand. My dad was right on my heels and arrived just in time to scoop her into his arms. All of us ran away from the burning building, and were lucky enough to arrive in the safety of the parking lot unharmed. Charlie burst into tears when she saw that we were all okay.

“Is anyone else in that house?” the governor asked.

“I don't think so,” I answered. “Mrs. Ivanov lives all alone.”

Alicia came charging up to me, her voice desperate.

“I found Eddie. He was on the beach with the other boys. But I didn't see Oscar.”

Two fire trucks arrived on the scene and pulled into the parking lot alongside us. In a matter of seconds, a swarm of firefighters descended from the trucks. There was a fire chief who hollered commands, and they got right to work, connecting their giant hoses to the pumper truck. Working in teams, they moved closer and closer to Mrs. Ivanov's house, pointing the streams of water directly at the flames. A few of them who weren't holding hoses crept up to the wooden house. Staying low to the ground, they got close enough to knock down the front door with axes. Flames shot out. The firefighters holding the hoses took aim and immediately bombarded them. We heard a loud sizzling sound and white smoke billowed from the doorway.

Over in the parking lot, the four police officers had formed a human chain to keep us away from the fire. They were encouraging people to get in their cars and leave. Most left, but some stayed. Dr. Mandel said he wanted to stay in case anyone needed emergency medical treatment.

Meanwhile, Alicia was maneuvering through the crowd, calling Oscar's name.

“You looking for the dude in the Human Torch sweatshirt?” Noah asked when she bumped into him.

“Yes, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he was in that Ferrari. The one parked in front of the club.”

Alicia came and got me and we ran to Tyler's car. Even in the darkness, I could see Oscar huddled inside, looking small and frightened. I pulled on the door handle, but it was locked, so I pounded on the window.

“Oscar, open up!”

He shook his head.

“Oscar, right now,” Alicia yelled. “You can't stay in there.”

He shook his head again.

“Oscar, there's a huge fire. What if it spreads? It's dangerous in there.”

Oscar looked from Alicia to me. Slowly, he unlocked the car door and we pulled it open. I could see that there were tears rolling down his face.