Watch Your Step (25 page)

He looks at me. I angle the stick toward him. He takes two marshmallows.

“Yup,” he says around the white mush. “Elinor's barely a blip on our radar. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“Like what kind?” I ask.

“No idea. Nadia hasn't shared specifics.”

“But if we're not the fish, and if you didn't want to hurt us . . . what'd you mean when you said you thought it'd be fun to mess with us?”

“Just that if we snuck around enough and let you catch us spying every once in a while, you'd get nervous. Start to freak out. Get sloppy. Show your weaknesses.” His eyes meet mine. “As Annika's star you must know that knowing someone's weakness is way more important than knowing his strength.”

“I'm not—” I stop myself. He's just trying to take the upper hand by putting me on the defensive. I won't fall for it.

“Still don't believe me?” Shepherd Bull asks. “Just ask Nadia. She told us that, no matter what, we couldn't attack you guys in any way. We could follow and watch you, but that was it. She said we'd mess up the mission if we did anything else.”

“And if you didn't listen?” I ask. “And hurled a million ping-pong balls at one of us just because you felt like it?”

His expression turns serious. “Then we'd be kicked out of IncrimiNation. Forever.”

Shepherd Bull says this like it's the very worst punishment an Incriminator could receive—and would try to avoid at any cost. And maybe I'm being naive, but I believe him. Enough that I let him take all of the remaining marshmallows from the stick.

As he gobbles and swallows, I turn toward my friends.

“You know what this means,” I say.

Abe nods grimly. So does Gabby. And Elinor. We're all thinking the same thing, but it's so hard to believe I say it out loud anyway.

“If the Incriminators aren't after us . . . that means our parents are.”

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
Bartholomew John

Dear Miss Parsippany,

Thanks for your last note! That was weird about your e-mail address, but I'm glad you figured out what happened and got a new one.

And thanks for everything you said about
honesty and editing the truth. It made a lot of sense. Just so you know, I DID cringe when you said your mom looked like a piñata in her party dress . . . but I DON'T think you're a terrible person. You were just trying to protect her feelings. How's that a bad thing?

Along those lines, I haven't come clean to Annika about what I did or didn't do. There's been a lot going on here so I haven't really had a chance to think about whether I should mention anything. And like you said, sometimes a harmless edited version of the truth is better for everyone. So for now, I'm sticking with that.

By the way, how's your new job? And what is it again?

Oh, and I did hear something about Bartholomew John. I don't have all the details, but my source said she saw him bullying kids on the playground back home. Supposedly there was shoving. And crying. At least one little boy ran to his mom and bawled like a baby. I guess some things—and people—never change, huh?

Well, I should get going! I hope you're having fun wherever you are. Write again when you can!

Sincerely,

Seamus

I'm about to press send without rereading my e-mail, but then think better of it and take another look. Because do I really want to say that about Bartholomew John? It's not a total lie. I did hear (or read) something about him, and my source (Mom) did talk about him bullying a little boy (me). Yes, Miss Parsippany asked for recent Bartholomew John news, and this incident happened a long time ago. But it's still news to her, since she hasn't heard it before. And maybe it'll make her say why she's so curious about him. After all, she hasn't asked about any of the other Cloudview kids she taught . . . so why's he so special?

I press send. Then I start a new message.

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
Emergency Alliance Meeting

Hey, Lemon!

How are you?? Haven't seen you much lately. I won't ask again if everything's okay, because you promised it was . . . but I hope it still is!

Also, I wanted to make sure you knew about our alliance meeting tonight. In case you didn't get the other e-mails I sent or the regular notes I left in your room.

A lot's happened the past few days. There's much to talk about and plan. That's why we'll meet here, at our underground house, at six tonight. Which is in half an hour. I really, REALLY hope you can make it! Capital T is more like Lower-Case T when one of its members is missing. And speaking of missing, I miss my best friend!

Hope to see you soon!

—Seamus

I hit send and start another note.

TO:
[email protected]

CC:
[email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
Update

Hi, Annika!

I just wanted to write and thank you for asking our teachers to look for our parents at the Beach Bash the other night. Their search turned up empty, unfortunately, and not one mom or dad made it to the party, but it was nice of them to try. Those adults sure can be sneaky, can't they? And I'm an only child, but I guess brothers and sisters can be too. We stayed at the party until the bonfire finally went out around midnight, and we didn't see one sibling the entire time.

I also wanted to tell you that there have been some major developments on the Incriminator front. They relate to major developments on the
parent front. It's a lot for one e-mail, so maybe we can meet and review everything sometime this week?

Sincerely,

Seamus

I send the message. My K-Pak buzzes. Hoping the new note's from Lemon but figuring it's from Annika, I open it. And I'm surprised to see it's from Miss Parsippany. It usually takes her a few days to get back to me, and it's taken even longer lately.

I'm even more surprised when I see what she wrote.

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
RE: Bartholomew John

S—

THANX 4 UPDATE. CAN'T BELIEVE ABOUT BJ. I GUESS LEOPARD + SPOTS = NO CHANGE. WHAT DAY DID THIS HAPPEN? HOW MANY KIDS DID HE MESS WITH? HOW MANY CRIED?

I KNOW U SAID U DIDN'T HAVE ALL DETAILS BUT ANY WOULD BE GR8.

SORRY SO SHORT. ABOUT TO JUMP OUT OF HELICOPTER. HARD TO TYPE. BUT WANTED TO GET BACK TO U RIGHT AWAY.

—MP

Wow. Miss Parsippany
really
wanted to know about Bartholomew John.

My K-Pak buzzes again. I open the new message.

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
Role Reverse

Seamus,

Thanks for the update. We'll meet soon. On another note, I've been trying to schedule your Role Reverse session with your parents, but they've been hard to track down, and they're not answering
e-mails. Perhaps you can mention the session when next you see them and explain its importance as I have to other parents?

Thanks!

—Annika

“Seamus? Can I come in?”

I toss aside the K-Pak. Jump up from the bed. Wish I'd put on a clean shirt after today's dusting duty as I open the door and smile at Elinor.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.” She smiles too.

“How was your day?”

“Nice. I mean, as nice as scrubbing bathroom tiles with a toothbrush can be, anyway. How was dusting?”

“Not bad. And informative. I thought dust only collected on flat surfaces. Turns out it gets on
every
surface. Including on your nose. And
in
your nose. I've never sneezed so much in my life.”

“Did your dad split the second he opened the door?”

“Actually, no. He was there as long as I was. And he followed
me around the house. Whenever I changed rooms, so did he. He gave me a few-second head start and then commented on the shifting sun each time he sat down with the book he was pretending to read, like he would've kept moving even if I wasn't there . . . but I knew what he was doing.”

“Watching you?”

“Exactly.”

“Did he try anything?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“That's odd,” she says. “How about your mom? Was she home too?”

I shake my head. “Were Abe's parents at his house?”

“At first. But then he asked them so many questions—where they've been, what they've been doing—that they seemed to get uncomfortable. He tried to sound natural, but it was obvious he was digging for information. So they left.”

“Smooth,” I say. “If one of us had done that—”

“He'd never let us forget it.”

We exchange small smiles. When she doesn't say anything else, I try to come up with a new topic. This is hard. Because in the conversation break my brain fixates on the fact that the
prettiest girl ever is standing in my room, and I can't think of anything else.

Fortunately, Elinor ends the silence before it gets too awkward.

“So you know today's troublemaking assignment?” she asks. “From Houdini?”

“To swipe something from our parents without leaving their field of vision? Yes. That was tricky.”

“I bet. I couldn't find out myself because my parents aren't here. But I still wanted to participate, so at the end of the day I stopped by the arts and crafts cabin.” Elinor reaches into her shorts pocket and pulls out two long skinny ropes. “There's a ton of thread in there. Spools and spools of every color in the rainbow, plus about a hundred others. But I only wanted two. Green, which is my favorite color. And blue, which is  . . .”

“My favorite color.”

She holds one of the ropes toward me. “It's a friendship bracelet. One half's blue, the other half's green. They're braided together. Kind of the way good friends are.”

“You made this?” I ask, taking the bracelet. “For me?”

“And for me,” she says. “So we each have one.”

“That we can wear, like, all the time?”

“If we want . . . ?” She says this like there's a chance I
wouldn't
want to.

“Elinor, that's . . . so nice. Really. Thank you. I can't wait to put it on.”

“No need to wait,” she says, then helps tie the bracelet around my wrist.

When she's done, I tie her bracelet around her wrist. Then she holds her arm between us, and I hold mine next to hers. We stand like that for a second, comparing bracelets. Then she gives me a shy smile, lowers her arm, and steps back.

“So did you get a chance to swipe something from your dad?” she asks. “Or was he too close to make a move?”

I pause. Then I look at my wrist once more and take my K-Pak from the bed.

“It wasn't easy,” I say, “but I did. I was cleaning my parents' dresser while Dad sat in an armchair on the other side of the room. I shook the feather duster really hard, like I was cleaning it off, and then I pretended to sneeze—in Dad's direction—so that the flying dust flew all the way over to him. When he really sneezed, I used my K-Pak camera to take a quick picture. Of this.”

I hold the K-Pak toward her. She leans forward for a closer look at the screen.

“It looks like a diary entry,” she says.

“It is a diary entry. My mom wrote it a year and a half ago. She's been keeping a journal forever, but I just found out about it last week. I didn't want to take the whole book today—and I already felt a little guilty for reading other entries—so I just snuck one shot.”

“Impressive. What does it say?”

“You can read it if you want.”

Elinor does. Out loud.

“ ‘Well, it happened again. For the umpteenth time in twelve years, my beloved Seamus has proven his weakness.' ” Elinor glances up at me. “Ouch.”

“It gets better,” I say.

“ ‘The unfortunate incident occurred in the school cafeteria, where Seamus sprinted from his social studies class in order to be first in line for fish sticks. Apparently today was the very first day the cafeteria was offering this lunch special. And apparently my son has been looking forward to this day for months.' ”

“It's true,” I say.

“ ‘Sadly for him, he wasn't first in line. Bartholomew John, that strapping, confident young man—his mother must be so proud!—beat him to the fried fish. As this was the very first day for fish sticks, the cafeteria staff didn't know how much to make. And they underestimated, because Bartholomew John cleared out their entire prepared supply. I don't know why the lunch ladies didn't limit his serving so others could have some, but I'm guessing Bartholomew John made a very convincing argument.' ” Elinor looks up. “Your mom really likes this kid.”