Partners in Crime (9780545463119) (3 page)

Darcy
and I never got around to making our suspect list because my mom had called me down for dinner. The next day, I had trouble paying attention in school. Me. Miss Always Pays Attention. But the mystery of Bailey Ann Banks wouldn't leave my head.

At lunch, I put my tray down and started to dig into the spaghetti. I love Pasta Day. It's the only day I buy the hot lunch. Darcy settled in beside me and ripped open her paper lunch bag to reveal a juice box, a Ring Ding, a Twinkie, and a Ho Ho. I raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she said. “The boxes were expiring tomorrow. I'm doing my mom a favor. We wouldn't want to have to throw it out and waste food.”

“Twinkies expire?” I said doubtfully.

Darcy ignored my question. “So,” she whispered, “I started on that list.”

I glanced around nervously. Talking about suspects right in the middle of the cafeteria gave me butterflies in my stomach. Not the good kind like when a cute boy (um, Zane) smiles at you. More the nasty butterflies-with-fangs kind.

“I don't know,” I said. “Let me focus on getting through the school day. We
do
have an English quiz after lunch.”

Darcy waved her hand as if that wasn't important. “But what about the investigation?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “It's too risky to talk about it here at school. We'll pick that back up this afternoon.”

She took a huge bite of a Ring Ding and thought it over. After some chewing, she said, “Only if we can meet at my house this time.”

I sighed. “Deal.”

 

I
did well on the English quiz, so I was much less stressed by the time we climbed the stairs to Darcy's
room that afternoon. Our homes were almost identical from the outside. But inside, they couldn't be more different. Darcy's bedroom walls were all dark purple except for the one behind her bed, which was black. Darcy and her mother liked modern-looking furniture, but to me, most of it just looked weird.

I slid onto a wavy-styled chair that looked like a strip of bacon. “So let's see the list.”

Darcy took out her notebook and opened it to a page of names. “I wrote down everyone who was in class the day of our presentation. It could be a boy or a girl because the e-mailer didn't say they were identical twins.” She shrugged. “Let's figure it out!”

I attempted to lean forward, but the bacon chair wouldn't let me. “Who's first on the list?”

Darcy shoved me over a bit so we could share the bacon chair. Thankfully, it was big enough for two. “Maya Doshi,” Darcy said, pointing at the name. “She was very quiet that day.”

“Maya's always quiet,” I said. “I think I've only heard her speak two words in my entire life.” I looked at the list. “What about Fiona Fanning?”

“Please.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “That girl has more shoes than brain cells. She wouldn't think to e-mail us from the website.”

Darcy's finger trailed along the list of names and stopped at one. “What about Zane Munro? Did you see how nervous he was during the presentations?”

Zane? No way
, I thought. “He was nervous because he had to stand in front of the class by himself, and Hunter Fisk kept shooting spitballs at his head. Plus, he wouldn't bother with all the secrecy. If he wanted my help, he'd just ask.”

Darcy tilted her head to the side and said in a singsong voice, “Norah likes Za-ane …”

“Darcy, stop it.”

“You want Zane to be your boyyy frieeend.”

I crossed my arms. “Shut up. Next suspect.”

Darcy let out one last laugh, then moved on. “Speaking of Hunter, he was firing death rays at me from his eyeballs today.”

“You tied his shoelace to the chair and made him fall in front of the entire class.”

“Oh yeah,” Darcy said, smiling. “I guess his evil stare could've been because of that.”

“Slade was sweating a lot today in social studies,” I said. “Sweating could be a sign of guilty secret keeping.”

“Or it could be that Slade always sweats.” Darcy made a face. “He's wetter than a dog's nose.”

We went through the rest of the class list, but it all ended the same. No real clues, just guesses. Darcy started to pull at her hair and it stuck out at odd angles. “Well, that was a waste of time,” she said. “We're never going to figure out who our client is.”

But while Darcy was trying to look for clues in our classmates' behavior, an idea occurred to me.

“Wait.” I shot up from the bacon chair excitedly. “It's all about the numbers!”

Darcy tilted her head like Hubble does when he's confused.

“The birth date!”
I said.

Darcy's eyes lit up as she caught on. “You're right! The twin was born on April fourth. So all we need to do is find out which one of our classmates was born on April fourth.”

But the excitement drained from my body as I said out loud, “Err, how do we do that?”

Darcy thought for a moment, then a smile stole across her face. “I have an idea.”

Oh no.
I could see trouble brewing. “What's your plan?” I asked.

“We go to Principal Plati's office and wait until he isn't around. Then we do something to distract the secretary. She leaves the office unattended. Then I slip inside, download the seventh-grade student file onto a flash drive, and we'll have a listing of everyone's birthdays.”

“Darcy!” I cried. “You can't mess around in the school office again. You'll be suspended.”

Last year, once a month, Darcy snuck into the office and inserted “Happy Birthday to Darcy Carter” into Principal Plati's morning announcements. The school secretary figured out after four months that something was up, but I think Principal Plati would have gone on wishing Darcy a happy birthday for a few more months after that.

“It's the fastest way,” Darcy argued.

“You
can't
do it,” I said, worry leaking into my voice. We joked around about us being opposites and it
was
fun that Darcy wasn't always a goody-goody like me. But this was going over the line. I pleaded
with my eyes. Darcy was my best friend and I didn't want her constantly getting into trouble.

Darcy heaved a sigh. “Fine. We'll find another way.”

I leaned back in the chair and let out the breath I'd been holding. “Thank you.”

We
couldn't research our classmates' birthdays over the weekend. But I had a different kind of birthday to deal with: my cousin's third birthday party, which was about as awful as you could imagine. My aunt and uncle hired a clown and, long story short, twenty little kids are now traumatized for life.

One of the kids was apparently terrified of clowns. He started screaming as soon as the clown entered the room with his big floppy shoes and red bulbous nose. The clown made the mistake of reaching for the scared boy, maybe to try to make him feel better. But all the kids immediately got it into their preschool brains that the clown was about to kill them. So
they all started screaming and running around the house.

This then ruined our weekly family movie night because my mom had a migraine.

So, instead, I headed upstairs to read for a while. It was a good book, from one of my favorite sci-fi authors. But I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept wandering to Bailey Ann Banks, whoever or wherever she was. I walked over to the window and trailed my fingers along my all-time favorite birthday present — my telescope. I leaned over and peered through the lens. The moon wasn't full yet, but I still had a nice view of the seas. (Those are the moon's dark spots. But they're not
actual
seas. They're plains of solidified lava.)

Most kids our age don't really know what they want to be when they grow up. They're just guessing. Darcy says she'll end up as either an FBI agent or a fugitive permanently on the run.

But I've always known what I want to be. An astronomer. I want to study the skies, the stars, and the planets. I want to solve the mysteries of the universe. When some people come up against a
scientific unanswered question, they get frustrated. They want to know “why” right now. Me? I'm delighted. It's a challenge, set out there ready and waiting for me.

I wondered if maybe that was why I was starting to get excited about this missing twin sister case. At first, Darcy had been more into it than I was. But now it was all I could think about.

I wanted us to solve this mystery.

And we would.

 

On
Monday, Darcy and I kept to our vow not to discuss the case at school. But it was clearly killing us. At lunch, we silently shared a plate of French fries, feeling tense. Finally, Darcy spoke up, but it was only to ask if I wanted ketchup. I did, so she jumped up and headed to the condiments table.

I gazed around the cafeteria. Maya Doshi was, as always, sitting alone. Her pretty, long black hair covered her face as she leaned over a book. Maya had no friends that I knew of. I'd tried talking to her a couple times, but she always seemed so nervous, like my questions were tests. She's really shy.

I thought about how hard it must be. Talking is as easy to some people as math is to me. But others have to work at it. So Maya wasn't talkative; that wasn't her fault. But, because she was so quiet, it was like she was invisible. No one even looked at her most of the time.

Behind Maya, Zane was sitting one table over with his friends. I sighed inwardly.

Zane is not the most gorgeous boy in school. He's not the smartest or funniest. And though he's great at soccer, that's his only sport (as the other jocks remind him). But he
is
the kindest boy. I've never seen him bully or make fun of anyone. He treats everyone the same, whether you're popular or a giant dork. And that is really, really cool.

The problem, though, with a boy who's nice to everyone is that there's no way to tell if he likes you back. You know …
likes
you, likes you. Not that I like him. But if I did, it would be difficult to see if he liked me back. That's all I'm saying.

As if he could feel me staring, Zane turned and looked right at me. I shot my eyes downward, but there was nothing I could do about the red blush that I'm sure was lighting up my face and neck.

After a minute, I peeked over my shoulder to see what was taking Darcy so long. Surprisingly, she seemed to be chatting with Fiona Fanning.

Fiona was wearing a skirt and high-heeled booties. Her long brown hair has blond highlights she swears are natural, but she must spend an hour every morning with a flatiron to make every strand look just so. Meanwhile, my blond hair has more of the “wash, blow-dry, and go” look to it. I don't spend much time on my appearance. But that's probably why every boy in the seventh grade has a crush on Fiona, and I've never even had a boy call my house or slip me a note.

Fiona is totally stuck-up, with her popular friends and all that. I could only imagine what insulting thing she was saying to Darcy now. I hoped Darcy had some self-control. I'd just talked her out of one trip to the principal's office on Friday.

When Darcy returned to the table with packets of ketchup, I asked her, “What was the beauty queen bugging you about?”

“Nothing really,” Darcy said, looking confused. “She was just complaining about how Mrs. Feldman's class was so boring today.”

The fry fell from my fingers. “Wait, wait, wait …. Fiona Fanning was just … nice to you?”

“Yeah.” Darcy reached around the air with her hands. “There's a disturbance in the force.”

We laughed, but then the bell rang and I wasn't laughing anymore. Time for gym. I hated gym. Darcy and I were always picked last.

“Time to go,” I said with a groan.

We started moving out of the cafeteria with the crowd. Hunter Fisk sneered at us as we walked by, and Darcy stuck her tongue out at him.

Suddenly, Darcy grabbed my elbow and whispered, “I know we said we wouldn't talk about
it
in school. But I just thought of something. Something horrible.”

“What?” I whispered, my heart pounding as I glanced around worriedly. The cafeteria was so chaotic that no one could have overheard us.

“What if it's a trick?” Darcy whispered.

“Huh?”

“The e-mail. What if there
is
no missing sister? What if someone's just playing a prank on us?”

I frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“To waste our time. To watch us run in circles,
trying to solve the mystery just so they could laugh in our faces.”

“Who would do something like that?” I said disgustedly. “Something so … hateful.”

Darcy lifted a hand to shield her pointing finger. I followed the direction she was pointing. Hunter Fisk. He was charging out of the cafeteria, laughing his obnoxious laugh.

“Revenge for what you did to him in social studies?” I wondered out loud.

“The timing is right,” Darcy said. “We gave the presentation. I … well … humiliated him in class. Then, later that afternoon, we got the e-mail.”

Gosh. It made sense. But I didn't picture Hunter coming up with such an elaborate plan to get back at us. He was usually more direct, like shoving kids into lockers and knocking books out of their hands.

Or … maybe I just didn't
want
it to be him. Maybe I wanted it to be someone innocent who really did need our help. The mystery was exciting to me. It was challenging. An adventure. I'd never really had an adventure before.

Either way, I wasn't ready to give up yet.

“I don't think we should assume it's Hunter,” I said. “I don't want to quit. I want to keep investigating. But we'll keep our eyes on him. How's that?”

Darcy shrugged. “Works for me.”

 

In
gym class, we stood in formation as Mr. Edwards explained the rules of the volleyball match we were about to start. He always wore this whistle around his neck, even though I'd never seen him blow it. Not once.

I tried to pay attention to what Mr. Edwards was saying and not let my eyes drift to Zane. But he was wearing this really cool Reese's Peanut Butter Cups T-shirt. I wondered if that was his favorite candy.

Darcy whispered, “Will you stop daydreaming about Zane Munro and pay attention?”

I put my hands on my hips. “I am not daydreaming about —”

Mr. Edwards finished his talk and tossed a volleyball at me. I caught it in both hands and gazed around in confusion. Everyone looked at me like they were expecting me to do something.
Whoops.
I guessed I should have been paying attention.

This probably wouldn't help with my “being picked last” problem.

After a few moments of frozen silence, Fiona nudged me with her elbow. “You have to serve it.”

Like food?
I looked at her in bewilderment. I really should have listened to Mr. Edwards!

“You're in the server spot.” Fiona mimicked hitting the ball with her hand.

Oh!
I was in the last row, all the way to the right. Apparently, the person in this position had to hit the ball first.

Okay
, I thought.
Here goes nothing.

I hit the ball overhand with my open palm. Instead of flying over the net, it hit Maya Doshi in the shoulder, two rows in front of me.

“Ouch!” She turned around, rubbing her shoulder.

Hunter and Slade burst out laughing, pointing at Maya.

“It's not funny!” I said. “Sorry, Maya.”

She nodded at me but didn't say anything.

“Make a fist,” Fiona said. “And hit it underhand.”

I closed my hand and focused on putting all my power into my fist. I reared my hand back and brought it forward, launching the volleyball high over the net
to the other side. It dropped between two kids who weren't paying attention (probably not expecting my serve to actually make it over there). And my team got a point! I clapped excitedly.

I didn't know what was weirder: that Fiona had actually been helpful to me or that I'd finally found a sport I wasn't terrible at.

I was sad when it wasn't my turn to serve anymore, but the other positions were fun, too. Especially the front row, where you can jump up high and try to spike it onto the other side. I did that two times! For once, being the tallest girl in my grade was kind of cool. Everyone on the team gave me high fives (except Slade Durkin, but who cared about him?).

Usually, I watched the clock in gym class, begging time to go faster. But when I looked up and saw that there were only five minutes left, I was disappointed. The game was nearly over and we only needed one more point to win. Darcy and I were in the middle row. Slade was in front, which was good because he was our tallest player.

The other team served, and it sailed to our back row, where Maya stood, wide-eyed. She tried to hit the ball back but ended up giving it a light tap.

Oh no!
I thought. I'd really wanted to win.

But then I saw that the ball was right above Slade, in perfect spiking position. He would have no problem smashing it down on the other side of the net. Probably too fast for their front row to return it.

But instead, Slade twisted to the side. He spiked the ball, all right.

Into Darcy's face.

She fell to the ground, covering her face with her hands.

“Slade!” Mr. Edwards yelled. “What was that?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Edwards,” he said. “I don't know what happened. I must have gotten turned around when I jumped up so high. It's too bad Maya couldn't hit it over the net.”

“Oh, like this is her fault,” I snapped. “You did that on purpose!”

He pretended to be shocked and put his hand to his chest. “I did not. I'm sorry Darcy got hurt, but that happens in sports. She should have been paying better attention.”

The bell rang and Mr. Edwards dismissed everyone, clearly buying Slade's story. I knelt beside Darcy and
pulled her hands down. I was expecting a bloody nose, but her face was just bright red.

“Are you okay?” I asked, and she nodded.

I couldn't believe she wasn't crying. I would have been bawling.

“Norah,” Mr. Edwards said. “Please bring Darcy to the nurse to get her checked out.”

Slade put his hand out, offering to help Darcy up. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, but took his hand.

He pulled her to her feet, then leaned closer and whispered, “That's for Hunter.”