The Secret Talent (10 page)

“People say it's a huge improvement,” she informed us.

“Sure.” Brooke twisted spaghetti around her fork. “Fifty-five percent more evil.”

“And that he really seems different.”

“Different isn't always better,” admonished Heather, opening her milk.

Vanessa hesitated for a moment but kept going. “And that he looks so cute.”

“So do baby snakes,” I said, taking a bite of my apple.

She sighed. “Awww, come on, guys. I know he was blackmailing Tim before, but he's changed!
He promised when I was doing his makeover.”

I reached into my pocket and tossed the new task list on her tray. “You're right. He's changed. His handwriting's a little better.”

Vanessa opened the paper and read it over with a frown. “That lying . . .” She slammed it down on the table. “But he pinkie swore!”

“And we all know how binding those can be.” Brooke patted Vanessa on the back. “But luckily, Tim's finally going to take care of this.” She looked at me. “What do you and Abel have planned?”

“I need to get some dirt on Ryan,” I said. “Something juicy enough that he'll be too scared of people finding out to want to expose me anymore. I need you and Vanessa to help.” I glanced at V, who nodded.

Brooke scooted closer. “How?”

“Ryan can't know I'm up to something, so Vanessa will do more makeover work with him,
and you'll be there to help with his social skills. Then you'll conveniently disappear for a bit.”

Brooke's eyes shone with excitement. “You want me to search for evidence.”

“And I get to help with the distraction!” Vanessa clapped. “This is gonna be fun!”

“What's Heather gonna do?” asked Brooke.

“Nothing,” Heather said with a sigh.

“It'll look suspicious if you're all there,” I said, patting her arm.

V shook her head. “Not if Ryan doesn't see her. Brooke's going to need a lookout, right?”

“I could warn her if Ryan heads her way!” agreed Heather, straightening up.

“Already thought of that.” I tapped my skull. “We're going to use the code phrase ‘How about those Cubs?'”

“Yeah, because that won't seem suspicious after the first time,” scoffed Brooke. “Plus, the Cubs are terrible this year.”

She had a point.

I glanced at Heather. “You really want to help out?”

She nodded. “You're always there for me. I want to be there for you.”

I rubbed my head and sighed. “Fine. But only Brooke goes searching, and
none
of you get noticed.”

Heather and V high-fived, and Brooke placed a notepad in front of me.

“First things first, we need to case the joint.” She tapped the page. “Draw me a map of the rooms on each floor so I can get around quicker.”

“Uh . . . I don't know all of them,” I said, “but I'll do the best I can.” I started putting together a crude drawing.

Brooke nodded. “Now, when are you planning to be there tomorrow?”

I thought for a moment. “Maybe one?”

She punched something into her phone.
“Done. We'll take Ryan someplace in his house where there isn't bound to be anything to blackmail him with. Say . . . the kitchen.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

She looked up at Heather. “You'll be watching through the windows.” She paused and looked at me. “I'm assuming there's at least one window in the kitchen?”

“Yep.” I made sure to mark it on my drawing.

Brooke continued. “When I leave to start searching, if Heather sees Ryan make a move toward a door, she'll text me.”

I passed the sketch to Brooke. “Here you go. I hope you can find something.”

“Please,” said Brooke. “I'm a detective in training.” She narrowed her eyes and squared her jaw. “I'll find more dirt on Ryan than there are lice in his hair.”

“Oh, Ryan doesn't have lice,” said Vanessa. “I checked before I gave him a haircut.”

Brooke made an exasperated sound. “V! I was having a dramatic moment.”

“Sorry!”

I rolled my eyes at both of them. “See if you can come up with more than one secret,” I told Brooke. “I'd like to have options.”

“Oh, I'll steal his secrets.” She nodded and narrowed her eyes again. “And then . . . we'll end this.”

CHAPTER

I
t wasn't the new and improved Ryan who answered his front door the next morning. It was the crumb-covered, greasy-haired original, complete with scowl. But as soon as he saw that Vanessa was with me, he brushed off his shirt and did his best to spike his hair.

It wasn't enough.

“
What
did you do to all my hard work?” cried Vanessa.

“I—I . . . My aunt doesn't like the new me,” he stammered, backing away. At the look on V's
face, I would've been terrified too. “She saw the clothes and the hair and figured I was up to something.”

“Well, you are,” I said, entering the house. “You're trying to convince people you aren't some slimy jerk.”

“It looks like I got here just in time,” Vanessa added, following me in with a tote bag slung over one shoulder. She pulled out an empty spray bottle and held it up. “Do you have a bathroom where I can fill this?”

Ryan pointed down the hall, and as soon as V walked away, he whirled around to face me.

“What is she doing here?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

“This is a dress rehearsal for Berkeley's get-together,” I said. “You said you weren't sure what to wear.”

The anger in Ryan's eyes dissolved. “Oh.
Well, you could've at least warned me!”

“I could have, but I thought it'd be more fun this way,” I said.

Ryan shot me a look and moved to close the front door just as Brooke hurried onto the porch.

“Hold up!” she called.

“What—?” Ryan looked at me, and I grinned.

“Definitely more fun.”

“Hey, mouth breather,” Brooke greeted him, pushing her way into the house.

Ryan ignored her and continued to glare at me. “Why is
she
here?”

“I figured if you can talk to Brooke without any lamps or bones breaking, you can talk to anyone.”

“Believe me, I'm not looking forward to this either,” grumbled Brooke.

Earlier that morning she'd texted me,
It's Heist Day! Yaaay!

Vanessa reappeared with a full spray bottle
and frowned at Ryan. “You're still wearing that?”

“No,” he grumbled. “I'll change into my good outfit.”

“If I were you, I'd be more upset that I only have one good outfit,” I called after him as he headed upstairs.

“Ryan, do you need help?” added Vanessa.

“No! Just stay right there!” he shouted back.

As soon as I heard him walking above us, I said, “Okay, while he's gone we should—”

I turned toward my friends, but they were already in motion.

Brooke had opened one of the entertainment center doors and was skimming the DVDs and video game titles. Vanessa was inspecting the bookshelves.

“Nothing embarrassing here,” whispered Brooke, closing the entertainment center.

“Dead zone,” added V. “So are the downstairs bathroom and dining room.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

She brandished her squirt bottle and smiled. “I got lost on my way back.”

“Smart!” I said.

“Shh. I think he's coming,” whispered Brooke, jerking her head toward the staircase.

We all did our best to act casual as Ryan reappeared.

“Okay, let's do this,” he said, tucking in his shirt. He started to take a seat on the couch, but I cleared my throat.

“Don't you think you should offer your guests something to drink?” I asked, gesturing to Vanessa and Brooke.

“Oh. Right,” said Ryan. He turned to the girls. “Vanessa, would you like some soda? Brooke, a glass of poison?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I wagged a finger. “Would you say that to anyone at Berkeley's party?”

Ryan sighed and spoke through clenched teeth. “Brooke, would you like some soda too?”

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “What kind?”

“The kind with bubbles in it,” he said.

I cleared my throat again, and Ryan took a deep breath.

“We have root beer, cola, and diet cola.”

“Do you have any juice?” asked Brooke.

Ryan forced a smile. “Yes. Would you like some juice?”

“What kind?” she asked.

He turned to me with an exasperated look. “Nobody at Berkeley's party is going to be this much of a pain.”

“Just answer her question,” I said.

Ryan groaned and turned back to Brooke. “We have apple juice and orange juice.”

She nodded in satisfaction. “I'll take some orange juice, please.”

“And I'll take some root beer,” said Vanessa.

“Be right back,” said Ryan, heading toward the kitchen.

We all followed right behind, and he glanced over his shoulder in confusion.

“You don't have to come with me,” he said.

“I want to watch you walk,” said Vanessa. “No look is complete without a good walk.”

“I want to watch you pour my drink,” said Brooke. “In case you really do put poison in it.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. “And what's your excuse?”

“I want to watch you interact with other people.”

He muttered to himself and reached for the refrigerator door. Which happened to be by the kitchen window where Heather's head appeared.

“No!” Brooke cried, almost making Ryan drop a bottle of juice.

Heather quickly disappeared from sight.

“‘No' what?” asked Ryan, his scowl returning.

“I changed my mind about the orange juice,” she said. “Could I get apple juice instead?”

Ryan's lips pressed together, but he nodded and reached back into the refrigerator.

The top of Heather's ski cap appeared in the window as she tried to sneak another peek. I tapped my fingers on the glass.

Ryan popped his head out. “What was that?”

“Huh?” I glanced all around.

“What was what?” asked Brooke.

He closed the refrigerator door and glanced at the window. “I thought I heard something tap against the glass.”

“It was a goose,” said V.

I wanted to smack my hand to my forehead.

“A goose?” Ryan pushed past us to look out the window. If he happened to glance down, he'd spot one weird-looking bird.

“Up there!” I lifted his chin. “It took off already.”

Ryan shrugged. “Must've lost its flock.”

He turned back to the cupboard to grab some glasses and started pouring us each a drink.

As soon as the juice was in Brooke's glass, she grabbed it and downed it in one long continuous gulp, pushing the empty glass back to Ryan.

“Can I have another?” she asked.

“What are you, a camel?” Ryan shot back. This time, Vanessa nudged him. “I mean . . . sure.”

He poured her another glass, and she chugged that one too.

“Gotta pee!” she announced when she set the glass down.

“I wonder why,” said Ryan.

“Be right back!” she said, hurrying out of the kitchen. Ryan watched her head in the direction of the hallway bathroom. What he didn't see was her racing toward the stairs a minute later.

“How about offering Vanessa something to eat and a place to sit?” I suggested.

Ryan grabbed a jar of cookies and led the way to the living room. On our way out, I tapped the kitchen window again, and instantly, Heather reappeared. From where she stood, she could see into the living room, but unless Ryan had a reason to glance back in, he wouldn't notice her.

“Could we get to what's important?” asked V. “Ryan, you walk like you're carrying a sack of potatoes.” She imitated his lumbering movements. “Let's work on your stride.” She walked to the opposite end of the room, far from the hallway entrance. Even better. “Keep your eyes on me, shoulders back.”

Vanessa had Ryan strut in front of her while she adjusted his spine, his shoulders, and even the way he swung his arms.

After a couple minutes, in which he definitely looked better, Ryan stopped and frowned.
“Brooke's been gone for a while.”

“She did drink two glasses of juice,” I pointed out.

“These are really good cookies,” Vanessa added, holding one up. “What's the recipe?”

Ryan shook his head and walked toward the hallway bathroom. Where Brooke definitely wouldn't be.

“Do something,” I whispered to Vanessa.

She nodded and called to Ryan, “Shoulders back!”

I stared at her. “That's not what I meant.”

“Well, I'm sorry, but I can't ignore form that bad!” V told me.

From where we stood, I could hear Ryan open the bathroom door and mutter to himself. Then he passed the living room entrance, and I heard his feet hit the stairs.

I exchanged a panicked look with Vanessa.

“Brooke!” we both whispered.

Vanessa raced after Ryan, and I raced to the kitchen window, where Heather was already frantically texting. Then she produced a bike horn and honked it twice.

Not part of the original plan.

I couldn't stop to yell at her, though. Taking the steps two at a time, I found Vanessa waiting outside the door to Ryan's room while Ryan stood by his desk, frowning.

“Was that a bike horn?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I farted. What are you doing in here?”

With a disgusted look, Ryan pointed to his computer. “I thought Brooke might be in here, messing with my stuff, but—”

There was the sound of a door opening down the hall and a toilet flushing as Brooke walked over to us. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing up here?” Ryan demanded.

“There wasn't any toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom, so I thought I'd use this one,” she said. “Is that your bedroom?” She craned her neck to see, and that was when I spotted a massive cobweb in her hair.

Luckily, Ryan was too busy barring his doorway to notice.

“Of course it is, silly!” I reached up and tousled Brooke's hair while pulling at the cobweb.

“Dude!” Brooke gave me an annoyed look and smoothed it back down.

“So did you get the . . . uh . . . toilet paper you were looking for?” I asked.

“Yep!” She beamed a little too proudly for someone who'd simply gone to the bathroom.

“Good,” said Vanessa. “And while we're here, Ryan, I want to see your best shirts.”

He nodded and took a couple steps into his room. “Wait right there. All of you,” he said, not
taking his eyes off Brooke as he sidled over to his closet.

My phone vibrated with a new text message.

“While you guys do that, Brooke, ask Ryan a little about himself,” I said, taking my phone out of my pocket. The message was from Heather.

Everything okay?

Yes,
I responded while Brooke asked, “So, Ryan, I noticed there aren't any family pictures on the walls. What's up with your parents?”

Ryan stopped midreach for a shirt and frowned. “That's none of your business.”

“Ooh, touchy subject. Gotcha,” she said. Then after a second: “Are they alive or dead?”

“Brooke!” said V.

“No, it's fine,” said Ryan, sitting on his desk chair. “My parents were killed one night while leaving an opera. They walked down some dark alley, and a guy was waiting for them. My
parents offered to give him all their money, but he wanted their lives.”

Brooke pressed a hand to her chest. “That's horrible!”

I snorted. “It's also the plot of Batman.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Hey.”

Ryan smiled. “Yeah, it is. The truth is . . .” He shrugged. “I don't know what happened to them. My aunt Sue's been caring for me for as long as I can remember.” He made a face. “Well, not caring. More like . . . making sure I don't die.”

For a brief moment Ryan almost seemed like a decent person. But then he followed it up with “She's more like my maid, I guess.”

I rolled my eyes, and Brooke said, “
There's
the real Ryan.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with a frown.

“Nothing.” She checked her watch. “This has
been a great chat, but I should probably leave. V, you coming?”

Vanessa looked up from the shirts she was sorting through. “Huh? Yeah, just give me a second.”

“I should probably go too,” I said. “Dance practice.”

I'd actually already missed dance practice, but I didn't want to hang out at Ryan's house without my friends there.

Brooke started down the stairs, and I nudged Vanessa's arm. “Let's go, V.”

She nodded and handed two shirts to Ryan. “Wear this one if you can get the stain out.” She wiggled the hanger. “Or this one if you can find the button and get your aunt to sew it back on.”

Ryan took them from her. “I'll have someone take care of it,” he said, eyes darting to me.

Oh, I definitely didn't feel sorry for this kid.

“Well, gotta go!” I said by way of answer. I grabbed V's arm and tugged her toward the stairs.

Ryan walked us to his front door, and my friends and I strolled down the street without another word. The second we rounded the corner, though, I turned to Brooke.

“Did you really find something?”

“Of course!” She held up her phone.

“We want to see too!” Heather said, running over with Abel.

“What's up?” I grinned and gave him a fist bump.

“Had to see how my plan played out,” he said.

“There were a few hiccups,” I said. “And a horn . . .” I looked to Heather, who pointed at Brooke.

“Her idea! In case she didn't feel her phone vibrate from my text,” said Heather.

Brooke waved a dismissive hand. “None of
that matters. Check out all these juicy pictures I found!”

The five of us crowded around.

The first image was of Toddler Ryan sitting
in
the toilet.

“Eww!” squealed Heather. All of us giggled.