Kelsey the Spy (15 page)

The pawnshop is a weird place for my brother to go, but I check there anyway. It's nicer than I expected, like a jewelry store with closed glass cases of watches, rings, necklaces, and other jewelry. Becca would like the sparkly rings.

“Can I help you?” a cute girl with black, spiraled hair asks. She's Kyle's age, wearing a tight black skirt with a bejeweled pink jacket and a sheer pink blouse. Her name tag says, “Peony.”

“Did you see a brown-haired guy riding a bike come by here?”

“Was he hot-looking?” she asks, dimpling.

“Yuck.” I make a gross face. “He's my brother.”

She laughs, then gestures around the aisles of glass cases. “As you can see, there aren't any bikes here—and no brothers. But if your brother is cute and single, tell him to stop by and ask for Peony.”

I can still hear her laughing as I leave the business.

Doesn't anyone take me seriously? Peony made me feel like a little kid. No way will I tell my brother—or any cute guy—to stop by her store.

Next, I walk by the law office. A large front window gives me a view inside to a cozy waiting area with a comfy couch, a coffee machine, and a table piled neatly with magazines. A middle-aged receptionist with salt-and-pepper hair pulled back from her lined face reminds me of a lioness guarding the entrance to her den.

I take a deep breath to work up some courage, then push open the engraved glass door.

“May I help you?”

If a voice could freeze, I'd now be a human popsicle. The receptionist's black brows narrow together into sharp points. “May I help you, young lady?” she repeats.

“Um … I was looking for … um … my brother.” I keep my hand on the door handle, ready for a quick escape.

“And who might he be?” She taps a pen against her desk.

“Um … Kyle. Is he back there?” I look beyond her to a hallway that deepens into shadows dark enough to hide a boy and his bike.

“If he was, due to client confidentially, I wouldn't be allowed to confirm or deny your question.”

I take that as a no, then squeak out something that sounds like “thank you.” I scurry out the door and down the sidewalk.

I'm ready to jump on my bike and pedal away … until the sweet aroma of pepperoni and pizza sauce entices me. I hear the irresistible catchphrase, “Make history with Prehistoric Pizza.”

A costumed dinosaur with a shiny green tail is waving a sign announcing a special discounted Dino-Roni Bacon Pizza. It's a girl dinosaur and she sounds nice. I can't afford the special or even a slice of pizza, but maybe the dinosaur saw my brother.

“Excuse me,” I say, peering into friendly hazel eyes shining from a rubbery dinosaur face. “I'm looking for my brother, Kyle. Did you see a guy go by on a bike?”

“Sorry, but I don't know anyone named Kyle.” Her dino tail flops as she shakes her head. “I might have missed him. It's not easy to see much in this costume.”

“Oh.” My shoulders sag. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother at all.” I can only see hazel eyes through her dinosaur face, but I can tell she's smiling. “I'm bored standing out here alone.”

“And I'll bet you're hot in that heavy costume,” I say.

“Sizzling! Maybe I can help you.” She points to the front of the Prehistoric Pizza. “With all those windows, my coworkers might have seen your brother. I was just getting ready to take a short break. While I'm inside, I'll ask Gina, Steve, K. C., and Reynaldo. But I won't ask the manager, Mr. Kinkaid—he's meaner than a T. rex. What does your brother look like?”

“Tall, thin with brown hair.”

“That could be a lot of guys. But I'll check. Wait here.” She goes inside, and I tap my sneaker on the pavement, counting the taps until I get over two hundred and lose count. I'm up to seventy-three again when she returns.

“Sorry.” She shakes her dinosaur head. “No Kyle inside.”

“Drats,” I say with heavy disappointment.

“You look thirsty so I brought you an orange soda.” She holds out a plastic cup. “By the way, I'm Talla.”

“I'm Kelsey, and thank you.” I sip bubbly orange sweetness. “Getting this soda is the best thing that's happened today.”

“Not a great day?” Talla asks sympathetically.

I grimace. “The worst!”

“At least you're not stuck in a hot costume,” she complains. “I'm glad my shift is almost over. I'm sweating like I'm wearing a sleeping bag on the hottest day of summer.”

“So why work here?” I ask, then take another sip.

She laughs. “Who wouldn't want to get paid to be a dinosaur?”

I nod, understanding. When I was little, I loved everything about dinosaurs and could pronounce even the longest, most complicated names.

“Thanks again,” I say, gesturing to the drink. “I better go.”

“Sorry I couldn't help find your brother.”

“He has a way of just vanishing.” I smile wryly. “At least I know where he didn't go—not the sheriff, the pawnshop, or the pizza place.”

“What about the law office?” Her tail flops with a thump as she turns to point to the remaining business.

“I hope he's not there because I never want to talk to that Ice Queen receptionist again.” I shiver. “Besides, Kyle doesn't need a lawyer.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “The description of your brother matches this guy I've recognized from my high school—I don't know his name—who's gone to the law office at least three times this week.”

“What high school?” My siblings all go to Sun Flower High, but some kids go to a private school, Creative Minds Academy.

“Sun Flower High,” Talla says.

“Did he ride a black bike?” I ask uneasily.

“I didn't notice.” She shrugs her dino shoulders. “All I know is that I've seen him at school hanging with some basketball players so he's probably a jock.”

Before my family lost their home and Kyle got obsessed with scholarship applications, he was on a basketball team.

But why would my brother need a lawyer?

- Chapter 18 -

Tortoise Trouble

Kyle doesn't come home for dinner that night.

“He's with Jake,” Mom says cheerfully. “I'm so glad he's finally getting out. It's wonderful he's seeing his friends again.”

It would be if that were true.

And I shudder at the memory of the scary law-office receptionist.

My brain is on overload and it's hard to go to sleep. I lie in bed, staring up at my ceiling where slivers of moonlight shift into puzzle pieces that don't connect.

Kyle + Lawyer = Trouble.

I think of all the reasons someone might need a lawyer, but most of my ideas come from TV crime dramas. I'm pretty sure Kyle isn't guilty of murder, kidnapping, grand larceny, identity theft, or assault with a deadly weapon. If it were illegal to get obsessed over applying for colleges, Kyle would be guilty.

I fall asleep with images of Kyle riding his bicycle with a box that ticks like a bomb …

The next day at school I wait for Becca by my locker, but she doesn't show up. Will she bother coming to the Skunk Shack for our CCSC meeting after school? Both Becca and Leo have been so busy lately that I feel like I'm in a club of one.

I find Becca in our homeroom, her dark ponytail sweeping across Chloe's desk while they whisper. As I walk down the aisle, I frown at Sophia's empty chair. Is she ever coming back to school?

Sitting behind Becca, I wait for her to turn around but she's too busy talking to Chloe. I thump my science book on my desk.

Becca whirls to face me. “Oh, Kelsey. You're here.”

“I waited for you by my locker.” I try not to sound whiny.

“I had to talk with Chloe.” She drops her voice so only I can hear. “We went to Sophia's house last night, and she's a mess. She won't get out of bed and is faking sick to skip school. She thinks everyone hates her. That horrible Corning Comic destroyed her confidence.”

“I can destroy him,” I say carefully. “Want to know his name?”

“Of course I do!” Her bracelets, silver like her Sparkler necklace, jangle as she gestures excitedly.

“It's Er—”

“Becca!” Chloe calls out. “I just thought of a new plan to help Sophia.”

With a shrug, Becca mouths, “Tell me at lunch,” and turns back to Chloe. They start whispering again.

But Becca walks into the lunchroom with Chloe, so there's no chance to talk to her alone. When the lunch bell rings and we leave the cafeteria, Becca pulls me toward her and whispers into my ear, “We'll talk about the Corning Comic at our CCSC meeting. Afterward we can stop by my house to cuddle with our kittens, then bike around searching for lost pets.”

I feel a little better and smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Exactly! See you then.” With a hand wave, Becca hurries to her next class.

After school, Becca is waiting for me by the bike rack and Leo is with her. I walk with a skip in my step. The CCSC is together again. My club mates will be so surprised when I show them the ransom note and the wooden block.

“Race you to the Skunk Shack,” I throw out as a challenge while I unlock my bike from the rack.

“Um … I'm not going.” Leo frowns, and I notice he's not carrying his gyro-board. “That's what I came to tell you.”

“If you say you
have
to help Frankie again, I'll scream,” I warn through gritted teeth.

“Don't scream! I hate loud noises.” Leo looks panicked.

“What do you care what I do? You'd rather be with Frankie than us.”

“The play's dress rehearsal is soon. Frankie needs my help.”

“And of course only
you
can help him,” I spat back. “Well, your club needs you too!” I turn to Becca for support. “Tell him we're sick of being ditched for Frankie all the time.”

“Well … I would but—”

“Becca, do
not
say you can't come either,” I warn through clenched teeth.

“I'll be there—just a little late.” Becca twists her ponytail around her finger, her gaze drifting across a grassy lawn to the street where two girls stand with their bikes: Chloe and Tyla.

“You're going with
them
!” My hand shakes with anger as I point to the other two Sparkler girls.

“It won't take long,” Becca cries. “Sophia refuses to talk to Tyla or help at the fund-raiser and may even quit the play. We're having an intervention at her house.”

“I guess I'm not invited to this either?” I snap.

“I'm sorry but they …” Becca spreads out her arms helplessly. “Tyla only wants me and Chloe. We won't take long, and then I'll hurry to the Skunk Shack.”

“What's the point? We can't have a meeting without our covert technology strategist,” I say, giving Leo a furious look.

“I could make more meetings if Frankie was a member,” Leo says. “Frankie would be an asset to the CCSC. He can create superior disguises that are much more effective than a hat or wig.”

“My disguises work fine,” I argue.

“Only at a distance. Frankie has turned actors into cats, robots, historical people, and more. It's only logical to invite him into the CCSC. I even have a title for him: disguise expert.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “We'll vote on Frankie at our next meeting.”

“Will you vote yes?” Leo tilts his head toward me.

Instead of answering, I shoot him a suspicious look. “Have you been avoiding our meetings because I won't vote the way you want?”

“That behavior would be childish, and I have never been childish. Not even when I was a child.” Leo looks down at his vest, smoothing a crease.

“But is it true?” I persist.

“According to my calculations, there's only a 32 percent chance you'll say yes. By giving you time to get to know Frankie, the odds improve to 48 percent.”

Becca gasps. “You've been skipping our meetings on purpose?”

“While that would be a logical strategy, I have been truthful about helping Frankie.” Leo looks hopefully at me. “Will you vote for him?”

I shift my heavy backpack on my back as I consider my answer. I like Frankie, but something about him makes me uneasy.

“My vote is still no,” I tell Leo. “Our club is perfect with just the three of us. We've solved three mysteries and get along great—at least when we work together.”

“You won't change your mind?” When I shake my head, Leo's shoulders sag and he walks away without even saying good-bye.

I feel guilty. But I won't change my vote.

I roll my bike from the rack and swing my leg over to sit on my seat. “Becca, I'll see you at the Skunk Shack.”

“Since you'll get there before me, could you go check on Albert? Mom says he hasn't been eating and she's worried about him.”

“He misses Reggie,” I guess with a sigh. “Sure, I'll check on him.”