Kelsey the Spy (9 page)

“She's insecure—that's why she pretends to be perfect. But understanding her motives doesn't mean I forgive her. She was horrible to you.”

“Worse than horrible.” I shudder over the memory of my notebook in Tyla's hands. “I don't want to be part of any group that she's part of—even temporarily.”

“It's only until the fund-raiser on Saturday. Please don't quit,” Becca begs. “I'll tell Tyla she needs to apologize to you.”

I arch my brow. “You'll stand up to her?”

“Yes. I swear on my kitten and all the animals in Wild Oaks and the CCSC,” Becca promises. But I doubt she'll do it.

Still, we slip in the familiar rhythm of talking about random stuff like animals, clothes, and homework as we walk to our lockers. I'm complaining about my English homework (reading two chapters and writing an essay question) when I stare at my locker.

Right away, I get this weird vibe. Something's not right.

I swivel my head to look around the hall. Is someone spying on me? But I don't see anyone suspicious. Shrugging it off, I reach for my locker. As my fingers touch the lock, the metal door sags open.

“I know I shut it.” I frown at Becca.

“Not tight enough,” she says with a shrug.

“But I locked it, then slammed it shut.”

A horrible thought jumps into my head.

I yank the door open wide. I pull out papers, textbooks, a brush, and my sweater, frantically searching—until nothing is left in my locker.

My notebook of secrets is gone.

- Chapter 11 -

A New Mystery

“Someone stole my notebook!” I frantically peer around but know it's no use. Whoever broke into my locker is long gone.

“I thought your notebook was in your backpack,” Becca says.

“I didn't want anyone to take it again so I hid it beneath my sweater.” I shake out my sweater and only a loose button dangles. “It's gone—and I know who took it.”

“Don't jump to conclusions,” Becca warns.

I ball up my sweater and toss it back into my locker. “We both know it was Tyla.”

“Not for sure.” She bends closer to look at my locker. “Your lock isn't broken. The thief knew your combination.”

“Or had access to the office where all the locker combinations are on file,” I point out. “Doesn't Tyla help out in the office during sixth period?”

“Well … yeah. But that doesn't mean she stole your notebook.”

“According to the book,
Criminals and Crimes
, when someone has motive, opportunity, and means, they're the prime suspect. Check the guilty box by Tyla's name.” I make a check mark in the air with my finger. “She wanted my notebook:
motive
. She works in office during sixth period, which gives her free rein of the school:
opportunity
. And when she doesn't get her way she's
mean
.”

My gut twists as I imagine Tyla reading my notebook and laughing over secrets that might seem funny to her but can hurt other people.

So many secrets—and Tyla could expose them all!

I cover my face with my hands. “What am I going to do?”

“I'll help you find your notebook.” Becca puts her arm around me. “If Tyla has it, I'll get it back for you.”

“She's probably reading the secrets right now.” I sag against my locker. “Tyla will blab to the whole world. I'll turn on the TV news tonight and see Tyla's smug face telling a reporter about a British actor named Reggie who helped his sister steal their father's grandfather clock and hide it in our Skunk Shack.”

“Not if I get to Tyla first.” Becca presses her lips with determination. “She rides the bus home, so she'll be waiting in front of the school. I'll go right now.”

“I'll go with you,” I say.

“No.” Becca wags her finger at me. “You'll only argue with her.”

“I want to stomp on her like a bug and grind her into the ground until there's nothing left but bone ash and a bad smell.”

“My point exactly. Wait for me at the Skunk Shack. Leo's probably there already, wondering what's taking us so long. I'll join you as soon as I can.” She smiles confidently. “With your notebook.”

Minutes later, I'm riding my bike up steep Wild Road. My brain whirls with my bike wheels.
Becca will get the notebook
, I think over and over, hoping it's true. But what if the secrets have already leaked into the world?

Thirty-eight secrets, beginning with that fateful sleepover. I didn't tell Becca which friend invited me to that sleepover, but it's easy to guess it was Ann Marie. While her parents' divorce is a non-secret after all these years, only a few people know her parents told her at Disneyland, and rehashing that horrible time would be upsetting.

Other secrets are more explosive: Leo's real age, the drama teacher's romance with a rock star, and how Sophia got a leading role in the school play. Also, Tyla will be furious if she realizes I know where she really gets her expensive clothes and that Chloe calls her “Tyrant Tyla” behind her back.

What will Tyla do with all the secrets?

I turn into the wooded trail leading to the Skunk Shack. The trail used to be bumpy and overgrown, but since we've been using it to get to our clubhouse, the trail has smoothed out. It's peaceful in the woods with birds fluttering and chirping from high branches and slivers of sunlight shining on spring grass. I'm always a little surprised at how well the shack is hidden. Only a glint from the window hints that it's hidden beneath an umbrella of trees.

I park my bike by the table-sized stump Becca loves to sit on. Leo's mechanical gyro-board is propped nearby, and his vest is folded neatly on the stump. Why did he leave his vest outside?

Curious, I go inside the shack, but he's not there.

Bang! Thud!

I look up at the ceiling, my first thought full of panic as I envision a wild animal attack. But then I realize it must be Leo.

I run back outside and look up at the roof.

“Leo, what are you doing up there?” I call out.

His blond head peeks over the roof's edge. “Accessing solar energy through enhanced elevation.”

“Huh?” I rub my forehead. “Can't you just talk like a normal kid?”

“Why would I want to?” He squints at me like I'm the weird one. “I climbed up here for sunshine.” He leans farther over the edge, hanging by one hand while he shows me a thick metal dish with dozens of tiny wheels on the bottom and weird black bumps covering the top. “This is my latest surveillance tool. I call it FRODO.”

I loved his bird drone, key spider, and dragon drone, but this invention looks as dull as a dinner plate. “Frodo? Like from
Lord of the Rings
?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “It's an acronym for futuristic robotic odor detection operative. FRODO navigates targets through olfactory sensors.”

Understanding Leo's techno-speak is like talking to an alien from another planet. “But why do you have it on the roof?”

“I told you—to access the sun. Its operational system is powered by solar energy. I'll come down and show you.” Leo disappears over the roof. Footsteps clatter, then there's a
thunk
as Leo jumps to the ground. Holding FRODO under one arm, he takes a comb from his pocket and smooths back his mussed hair, then looks around. “Where's Becca?”

“Confronting a tyrant.”

“What?” he asks as we walk into the shack.

“It's complicated.” The door thuds when I close it behind me. “But when Becca comes back, the crisis should be over.”

“Crisis?” He sets down his robotic wheeled plate and comes over beside me. “Is there something I can do?”

I go over to the table and sink into my wobbly chair. “No.”

“Don't underestimate me.” Leo gives me a look much too wise for someone only eleven years old. “If you need help, I'm here for you, Kelsey.”

The gentle way he says my name cracks through my controlled emotions. Leo and I argue most of the time so his offer means a lot. Fear and worry swell in me, and I cover my face with my hands to hide my teary eyes.

“I'm not crying,” I say quickly.

“Of course you are. It's natural.” Leo grabs a tissue from a box on the shelf and hands it to me. “According to statistics, women spend sixteen months of their lives crying.”

“That's sexist.”

“It's a fact.” He shrugs, looking more human than usual in a wrinkled shirt with no vest. “But if it makes you feel any better, women live longer than men.”

“Good to know.” I smile.

He hands me another tissue.

“Thanks, Leo,” I say, sniffling. “You're a real friend.”

“Yes, I am.” He nods. “So tell me what's wrong.”

“I never should have brought my notebook to school … Now everything's all messed up.” My tears start to flow again.

Next thing I know, I'm telling him about the missing notebook.

“Oh,
that
notebook.” He pulls up his chair beside me. “I saw that Sparkler girl waving it at lunch and wondered what the shouting was about. Frankie and I were going to see if you needed help, but your jock friends got there first.”

“Ann Marie and Tori made Tyla give back my notebook. I put it in my locker to keep it safe—and it was stolen.” I crumple the soggy tissue and toss it in the trash. “Becca
has
to get it back or secrets won't be secret anymore, which will hurt my family and friends. Everyone will hate me.”

“I won't,” Leo says. He has no idea that one of the secrets is his.

While we wait for Becca, Leo shows me FRODO. Up close it looks like a Frisbee dotted with odd bumps and over a dozen tiny wheels with heavy treads.

“FRODO could be a breakthrough in cybernetics!' His voice rises with excitement. “The bumps on FRODO are powerful smell receptors made of frog eggs.”

“Frog eggs? Yuck.” I wrinkle my nose. “Robots can't smell.”

“FRODO's olfactory system is programmed to recognize chemical signatures like blood and sweat. According to my calculations, FRODO will be able to analyze data, then determine the direction an odor is coming from.”

“Like a follow-the-stink GPS?” I giggle.

“Close enough.” Leo rolls his eyes.

I bend to study the frog-egged robot. “Can FRODO search and rescue like a dog?” I ask.

“Not yet.” Leo fidgets with the remote control in his hand. “At this early stage his range is minimal compared to a bloodhound that can trace a scent for more than a mile.”

“How far can FRODO smell?”

“Thirty-one feet,” he admits. “But I'm working on it.”

“Cool invention.”

“Frankie came up with the idea. He'd be an asset to our club.” Leo gives me a hopeful look that I ignore. I'm all for FRODO, but not so much Frankie.

I hear the whirl of a bike. “Becca's here!” I cry as I rush outside.

Becca jumps off her bike. I look at her hopefully. “Did you find it?”

She spreads out her empty hands. “Sorry, Kelsey.”

I sink down to the stump. “My life is over.”

“I asked Tyla to give me the notebook. But she just looked at me like I was crazy and said, ‘What notebook?' She swore she didn't take it. She even let me search her backpack and it wasn't there.”

“She's too clever to carry it around.”

“But she sounded genuine.”

“And you believed her?” I scoff.

Becca kicks her leopard-striped sneakers against the stump, hanging her head miserably. “I don't know what to believe.”

“Tyla will hurt lots of people if she exposes their secrets.”

Leo comes over to stand beside us. “This sounds like a mystery for the CCSC.”

“No mystery.” I press my lips stubbornly. “I know who's guilty.”

“Maybe.” Becca bites her frosted pink lip.

Leo twirls his remote control in his fingers like a baton. “All suspects are innocent until proven guilty.” He gestures to the Skunk Shack. “Let's go inside to formulate plans for recovering the notebook.”

Sometimes Leo's logical way of analyzing everything is annoying, but being logical is better than panicking.

Leo props his electronic notebook on the lopsided table and types while I talk. I describe the events starting from when I realized I'd accidentally taken my notebook to school and ending with its being stolen. I finish by saying, “My locker door fell open because Tyla didn't lock it after she stole my notebook.”

“You don't know for sure it was her,” Becca argues, but her voice is quiet like she isn't so sure anymore.

“Who else?” I fold my arms to my chest. “Tyla did it.”

Becca frowns at me. “Anyone who heard the argument in the cafeteria could have a motive to steal the notebook.”

“Good point, Becca.” Leo nods. “Someone with a guilty conscience might worry you've found out their secret.”