Kelsey the Spy (5 page)

“She'll look amazing.” Becca flashes a grin.

“Yeah, I'm happy for her but worried about Dad.” I swerve to miss a pothole. “He still can't find a job.”

“Ridiculous! A talented chef like him should have employers begging for him. I predict he'll find one soon,” Becca says cheerfully. “Then you'll move into a house—hopefully close to me—and take your kitten home.”

I cross my fingers and hope, hope, hope. I want to keep Honey so much. I haven't even told my parents I have a kitten. What's the use? While I live in a no-pets apartment, my kitten stays with Becca.

We coast through downtown Sun Flower, then shift into low gears to pedal up the hill to Wild Oaks Sanctuary. As we ride under the arched entrance, Becca says, “How do sandwiches sound for lunch?”

“Great.” My stomach rumbles.

“I make a great BLT.”

“Double tomato for me,” I say.

“And I'll have a—” Becca's pocket dings. “A text.”

“A text for lunch?”

“No, silly, a text on my phone.” She stops her bike and takes her phone from her pocket.

“From who?” I brake to a stop beside her.

Becca glances down. “Tyla.”

“What does
she
want?” I ask uneasily. I'm trying to like Tyla. Really, I am. But she acts like the Queen of Everyone. And she was the only Sparkler who voted against me temporarily joining the group.

Becca frowns. “Tyla says it's urgent that I come to her house right now.”

“Urgent to Tyla can be a broken fingernail,” I say.

“Too true.” Becca groans. “I really don't want to go.”

“So tell her no.”

Becca's ponytail slaps her shoulders as she shakes her head. “No one says no to Tyla.”

“Start a new trend. Tell her you have better things to do than bow down to her royal commands. It's about time someone stood up to Queen Tyla.”

“Maybe—but not me.” Her cheeks redden. “It's easier if I just go.”

I swallow a big lump of disappointment. “So go.”

“You won't mind?”

Of course I mind. But I don't want Becca to feel bad.

When I nod, she exhales into a huge smile. “You're the best, Kelsey. Come over tomorrow and we'll do something fun, like eat lunch with the animals.”

“Yeah, that'll be great,” I say with a forced smile.

We turn around and coast down Wild Road back into downtown Sun Flower. We ride side-by-side until we reach Pleasant Street where we split up. Becca turns left and I pedal on ahead, alone.

I have nothing else to do now except go home.

But as I near the shopping center where my brother biked this morning, I make a detour into the parking lot. I inhale a cheesy aroma from the pizza place and peer around like I'm on a stakeout looking for suspicious activity. Everything seems calm, just random people going in and out of buildings.

What was in Kyle's white box?
I think, looking around.
Did he cut through the alley to lose me? Or did he go inside one of the businesses?

I stare closely at each building.

Even if the café, pawnshop, or lawyer's office were open that early, he wouldn't have gone into them. He'd just eaten breakfast so he wouldn't go to Friendly's Café. He doesn't own anything valuable enough to pawn. And I can't think of any reason he'd consult a lawyer. If Prehistoric Pizza had been open this morning, he would totally have gone there. The TV ads are corny—a costumed dragon flips a giant pizza on his scaly tail and says, “Prehistoric Pizza is historic!” It might not be “historic,” but their pizza is delicious.

And now my stomach is growling.

I check my pocket and find a few dollars—enough for one slice.

But I only get halfway across the parking lot before slamming on my brakes. Sheriff Fischer's black-and-white patrol car is parked outside his office. Great! Now I can ask him if he saw my brother. A good spy checks out all clues.

While I'm working up my courage to go into the sheriff's office, Sheriff Fischer steps out of the office. He's not alone. He slips his arm around a dark-haired woman and draws her close to his chest in a very cozy hug.

OMG—it's Becca's mom!

The sheriff and Mrs. Morales are both divorced and went to high school together so they're good friends. I even saw them hold hands once but didn't think it meant anything. Now I'm not so sure.

And when the sheriff kisses her—a big, fat kiss on the lips that lasts a very long time—I almost fall off my bike.

That is not the casual kiss of just a friend. That's the kind of kiss you give someone you're dating. Becca has not said a word about her mom and Sheriff Fischer dating, which can only mean one thing: Becca has no idea.

- Chapter 6 -

Notebook of Secrets

When I get home, I race straight into my room and go to my wooden chest. I reach down for the carved decoration on the bottom of the front panel—which is actually a hidden drawer—and take out my notebook of secrets.

I can't stop thinking about the Kiss. When Becca told me her mother was having lunch with a friend, I'm sure she didn't know the friend was the sheriff, or that they were doing more than having lunch. Becca once confided to me that she expects her mother and father to get back together someday.

Wrong
, I think as I sink onto my bed.

Becca will be crushed when I tell her … if I tell her.

First this secret is going down on paper with the others I collected today.

Usually secrets come slowly, like waiting for weekends or birthdays. If I uncover one a month, that's more than the average. Yet today I learned
four
secrets. And they're not little ones either, like when my sisters snuck out to an over-eighteen club or my father used a butter substitute in his famous sugar crumb cookies.

All four are
big
secrets. And two of them are about my club mates.

Sitting at my desk with a pen and notebook, I think back to this morning when I followed Kyle on my bike.

Secret 32. Reserved for the secret “something” in Kyle's white box.

Secret 33. Leo is only eleven years old and will turn twelve soon. His mother is planning a surprise birthday party.

Secret 34. Reggie and his sister faked a robbery to get rid of the grandfather clock.

Secret 35. The sheriff and Becca's mom kissed!

Writing down the secrets helps me see them clearer. Although I was shocked at first to find out Leo's age, now that it's sunken in, it isn't a big deal. So what if he's younger than me? He's still my friend.

And it was cool listening to Reggie's story, then meeting Albert. A 130-year-old tortoise—wow! Albert is more than
twelve
times my age.

But the last secret is different. I rub my chin as I reread Secret 35: The sheriff and Becca's mom kissed. Mrs. Morales and the sheriff are both single, so why shouldn't they date? Maybe he's crushed on her since high school and ignored their feelings until she was divorced. Really, it's sweet and romantic.

Unfortunately, Becca won't see it that way.

When she finds out, will she be shocked or angry, or burst into tears?

Secrets are dangerous; they can destroy lives. If revealed, Reggie's could damage his parents' marriage. If other kids find out Leo is only eleven, they'll tease him (even more than some do now). But Becca deserves to know about her mother.

How can I balance truth and lies to protect my friends?

Thinking so hard makes my head hurt. I lean back on a pillow, feeling exhausted. Yawning, I close my eyes and sink into sleep.

Footsteps. A knock on my door.

My eyes pop open and I look over at the clock. Drats! I've slept over two hours!

“Kelsey, are you in there?” my mom calls out softly.

“Yes, Mom. Just a sec,” I say when I spot my notebook of secrets sitting out in plain sight on my bed. Quickly, I grab it and return it to the hidden drawer. Just in time too, because Mom peeks into my room.

“Just letting you know that dinner's ready,” she says.

“Dinner already?” I repeat, realizing I missed lunch. “Okay. I'm coming.” I jump up and follow her out of my room.

It's a family rule to eat dinner together at the dining table, and I'm last to arrive. As I chew homemade sourdough bread, my gaze settles on Kyle. I study my brother like a speck of blood under a CSI microscope, trying to guess where he went this morning and what was hidden in his box. Where could he have disappeared to right in front of my eyes? I keep hoping he'll bring up the topic, but all he talks about (as usual) are strategies for getting a full-ride scholarship.

When he asks me to pass the bread, I hand him the basket and ask casually, “So how did the heavy lifting go today?”

“Huh?” Kyle's face goes blank like someone clicked Delete in his brain.

I smile sweetly, amused that he doesn't remember the excuse he gave when he rode off on his bike this morning. “With your old buddy Jake?”

“Oh yeah, Jake.” He blinks fast. “Everything was cool.”

I almost laugh because if he really did lift heavy furniture today, he'd complain about sore muscles. Kyle is so bad at lying. My brother is definitely up to something—and soon the CCSC will be on the case.

Later that night, I reach up to my bookshelf and take down my favorite book. Curling up against my pillows, I flip the book open to Chapter One of
Harriet the Spy
. Whenever I have more questions than answers, I turn to Harriet for advice.

Skimming pages, I pause at the scene where Harriet's friend Sport asks to go spying with her. Harriet replies, “Spies don't go with friends.”

My eyes grow heavy and the book falls from my fingers. I think of my spying adventures with the CCSC: going on stakeouts, solving mysteries, and reuniting lost pets with their owners.

Harriet got it wrong
, I think as I drift off to sleep.

Spying is better with friends.

- Chapter 7 -

Fit-Pic

The next day nothing goes as planned.

While I'm chewing Dad's corn-flake-crusted French toast, Becca calls the house phone.

“Hey, Kelsey,” she says but without her usual cheerfulness.

I swallow and ask, “Is something up?”

“How'd you know?” She sighs. “I can't make lunch today.”

“Are you sick?”

“Sick of Tyla,” she gripes. “Remember that urgent problem she had yesterday? Well, her bratty brother threw her cosmetic case with all the face paints into their pool.”

“I bet the pool looked like someone vomited in it,” I joke.

Instead of laughing, Becca groans. “The Sparklers needed those paints for our fund-raiser booth.”

“Wait a minute.” My brain whirls. “They decided on a face-painting booth instead of one of the cool ideas we suggested?”

“Tyla hated all our ideas. Since her face paints are destroyed, new ones have to be bought. And Tyla insists that I go with her.”

“Can't Tyla shop by herself?” I glare at the phone.

“Yeah—if shopping were an Olympic sport, she'd win gold medals. But I'm the Sparkler treasurer so she wants me to go with her. I dread it because before we buy paints, she'll drag me into every store and make me wait while she tries on clothes.”

“Sounds fun. Not.”

“It won't be as torturous if you're there.” Becca's voice rises with hope. “Please, please, come with us.”

An afternoon with the Queen of Everything criticizing what I wear, say, and do? No, thank you.

When I return to eating my breakfast, my French toast is soggy and cold, like how I feel inside.

Before I have time for a pity party, the phone rings again.

For a hopeful moment I think Becca is calling back to say we can hang out today. But it's my grandmother with an invitation to my family—a Fitness Picnic in the park.