Confidentially Yours #6

by Jo Whittemore

  “I’ll go see if I can find it,” said Gil.

  I smiled at him gratefully as he jogged away. Then I turned back to Brooke. “Sorry, but I didn’t know it was evidence when I saw it. I just thought someone was being a jerk.”

  She shook her head. “Someone’s doing worse than that. They’re trying to make the advice column look bad.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I have a feeling I know who it is.”

  I’d seen that hatred in Brooke’s eyes before. She saved it especially for one boy who’d tried to get her removed from writing fitness advice and who’d blackmailed Tim into being his servant.

  “Ryan Durstwich?” I asked.

  “Ryan Durstwich,” Brooke agreed with a nod of her auburn ponytail. “That greasy, slimy creep. I wonder where he’s hiding now.”

  “Right behind you.”

  Brooke and I screamed in surprise, clutching at each other. Ryan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

  “Let me know when you’re done overreacting.”

  Brooke got over her surprise quicker than I did and scowled at Ryan. “What’s with this?” She took the advice column clipping Mary Patrick had found and thrust it in his face.

  Ryan took a step back and studied it. “I’m not Sir Stinks a Lot.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” said Brooke. “But I’m not talking about that. Why are you trying to figure out who he is?” She tapped the question written in marker.

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s actually why I’m here. Are you still part of the Lil Sherlocks club?”

  From the way Brooke’s anger evaporated, I could tell she hadn’t been expecting that question.

  “Uh, it’s Young Sherlocks,” she said. “And yeah. Why?”

  Young Sherlocks was a club that Abel had created. Its members watched crime shows and movies and tried to solve cases around school.

  Ryan glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I have a case I want to discuss with you. Privately,” he told Brooke.

  It was her turn to cross her arms. “Anything you have to say, you can say in front of me and Vanessa.”

  “Yeah, I cut your hair for free once,” I reminded him.

  “And almost clipped off my ear,” he added.

  “You shouldn’t have tried to run away!”

  Brooke held up a hand to silence me. “Ryan, what do you need?”

  He looked around and stepped closer. “If I tell you about this, you can’t tell anyone else.”

  “Agreed,” Brooke said.

  After one last sidelong glance at me, he held up a piece of paper that was becoming all too familiar. An advice column question with marker scrawled over the answer.

  “I want you to stop whoever’s trying to expose me,” said Ryan.

  CHAPTER

  2

  The Greatest Show on Earth

  Brooke and I exchanged a troubled glance.

  “Okay, two notes is a strange coincidence,” I said. “But three . . .”

  “Is a pattern. When did you find this?” Brooke asked Ryan, reaching for the paper.

  “Right before lunch,” he said.

  “Huh,” I said. “It seems like as soon as one gets taken down, another gets put up.”

  “You’re right!” Brooke took off at a sprint toward Locker 411, and I followed.

  “Hey! Are you gonna help?” Ryan called after us.

  “If you tell our teacher we’ll be late for class!” I shouted back.

  Ryan frowned but poked his head into the newsroom to talk to Mrs. Higginbotham (we call her Mrs. H).

  “If we’re lucky, we can catch whoever it is in the act,” Brooke told me as we rounded the corner.

  Nobody was waiting at Locker 411, but when Brooke opened the door, the space I’d left behind had been filled with another advice clipping. And someone’s name had already been suggested.

  “This is so weird,” Brooke muttered, pulling out her cell phone. She snapped a picture of the locker and closed the door.

  “You aren’t going to take down the note?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Whoever put this up will be back to check on the results. All we have to do is get out of the newsroom before the end of class and wait to see who shows up.”

  I nodded. “I have to come back here anyway, to put up a new flyer for the fashion show tryouts.”

  “Great! It’ll be the perfect excuse.” Brooke and I headed back toward the newsroom as the bell rang. “By the way, you never told me what I’ll be wearing for that modeling thing. It’s not an evening gown, is it?”

  “I wouldn’t put you in an evening gown,” I assured her. “Your sweatpants wouldn’t fit underneath.”

  She bumped me. “Seriously!”

  “We’re only showcasing tops, remember? And I have a cute, sporty one in mind that would be perfect for you.”

  Brooke grinned. “I hate to admit it, but I’m actually really excited about this!”

  I didn’t even bother acting offended. “Me too! Especially since there’s going to be a buyer in the crowd!”

  We stopped at the advice box outside the newsroom so Brooke could grab the latest help requests, and smiled apologetically at Mrs. H as we took our seats. She shook her head and pointed to her watch, but I didn’t feel too guilty. There was still an empty chair in the back that Tim would soon try to sneak into.

  “Where have you guys been?” asked Heather. But before we could answer, she held up a finger. “Tim’s coming.”

  She gestured to the door just as he charged in.

  Mrs. H sighed. “Why do we have warning bells if you’re all going to ignore them?”

  “Sorry, Mrs. H!” he said.

  She flipped through her roster. “Three times in a month, Mr. Antonides. I’m afraid that’s a write-up.”

  There was a chorus of “oooo” from around the room, and an “aww” from Tim as Mrs. H pulled out a pink slip of paper.

  Brooke nudged Heather. “How did you know Tim was coming, anyway?”

  “He wanted change for the snack machine, and all I had was pennies. I heard his pockets jingling down the hall,” she said with a grin. Then to Tim, “I told you the machine wouldn’t take them.”

  Tim dropped a pack of M&M’s on his desk. “Luckily, a girl took pity on me after she saw me put in twenty-five pennies.”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Tim grinned. “You should be proud of how resourceful I am! Now I’ve got food and money.” He patted a coin-filled pocket.

  “Yeah, my money,” said Heather. “Which means I’m entitled to at least a handful of M&M’s.” She cupped her hand and looked at him expectantly.

  Tim eyed it with suspicion. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? To make me get candy for you!”

  Heather revealed the tiniest smile. “You’ll never know.” She pointed to her palm, and Tim finally poured some M&M’s into it.

  “What’s with the poor man’s routine?” Brooke asked Tim. “I know for a fact you earn double my allowance.”

  “I’m saving,” he said. “I’ve got my eyes on an expensive prize.” He popped some M&M’s into his mouth.

  “Is it clothes?” I gasped and grabbed his arm. “Is it Thomas Pink?”

  Tim almost choked on his candy but managed to ask, “Who?”

  “Don’t bother getting excited,” Brooke told me. “Tim’s probably having a painting done of himself.”

  “Which I’m sure the Louvre Museum would happily hang next to the Mona Lisa,” said Tim. “But no, that’s not what I’m saving for.”

  “Some wordy book where the characters say ‘thou’ and ‘thine’?” Brooke guessed again.

  He shook some more candy into his palm. “There’s nothing wrong with the classics, but if you think they’re too wordy, you can get them as graphic novels.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Oh wait. You’re more into pop-up books, aren’t you?”

  Heather and I giggled, and Brooke swiped one of Tim’s M&M’s. “For your information
, I read at an advanced level. Just this weekend, I finished three Agatha Christie novels.”

  Tim raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. I’m pretty sure those are classics. We’re gonna have to take your cool card.”

  “She lost that when she put these on.” I reached over and popped the elastic waistband of Brooke’s sweatpants.

  “Why is it Pick on Brooke Day?” she asked.

  Mrs. H called Tim to the front to get his pink slip, and we pounced on his M&M’s as soon as he walked away.

  Heather swallowed her candy and poked Brooke in the arm. “What were you saying before Penny Pants came in?” she asked, cocking her head in Tim’s direction.

  Brooke smiled and explained about the articles Mary Patrick and I had found. She kept her word and left Ryan out of it.

  “Someone’s trying to embarrass other kids? That’s so mean!” said Heather. “Do you have the columns with you?”

  Brooke produced the one Mary Patrick had given her, and I got Gil’s attention.

  “Any luck with that paper I threw away?” I asked.

  “It was covered with yogurt by the time I got to it,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “At least I hope it was yogurt.”

  Heather glanced from the clipping to us. “Who would be horrible enough to post secrets about other students?”

  “Horrible? Secrets?” Tim dropped into his seat, pink paper in hand. “We must be talking about Ryan Durstwich.”

  Brooke shook her head. “I already confronted him, and he had a solid alibi. V and I are going to scope out the locker, though, to see if we can catch the Phantom Dirt Digger.” She smiled. “You like the nickname? I’m proud of it.”

  There was loud clapping from the front of the room as Mrs. H called the class to attention.

  “Boys and girls, we’ve got another award-winning issue of the Lincoln Log to churn out,” she said with a smile. “That is, of course, if you’re still interested in competing at the state level.”

  A few weeks back our school had entered its most recent issue of the Lincoln Log into a countywide contest for school newspapers, and we won! It automatically advanced us to the state-level contest, which was going to prove even more challenging, so Mrs. H and Mary Patrick had been pushing us to come up with even better articles.

  “Why don’t we get the ball rolling with the front page?” she asked.

  As the different sections provided their input, an idea dawned on me, and I waved my hand wildly in the air.

  “Bathroom pass is on my desk,” said Mrs. H.

  “No, not that.” I ignored the warmth in my cheeks and the giggles around the classroom. “You know how Katie Kestler and I are having a fashion show? Well, it turns out there’s going to be a buyer from Lazenby’s boutique in the audience!”

  Mrs. H pressed her hands together. “Vanessa, that’s wonderful!”

  Mary Patrick pointed a marker at Felix, the team leader for front-page news. “Can you make room for an interview with Vanessa and Katie about their show? That’s winning material right there.”

  Felix flipped through a couple pages in his notebook. “We’ll have to shift some things around, but we can make it work.”

  “You should also have someone report on the actual fashion show,” Brooke piped up. “I mean, how often does that happen in middle school?”

  I flashed her a grateful smile.

  Mrs. H nodded. “Excellent idea! We could also include the show specifics in the interview, in order to increase attendance. Vanessa, when is the show, and how much are tickets?”

  “It’s next Friday, after school,” I said. “And admission is two bucks a person.”

  “What?!” Tim spun in his chair to face me. “You’re only charging two dollars?”

  All eyes were on me, and I fidgeted in my seat. “Well, we thought kids might not come if they had to pay more.”

  “V, you’re looking at this all wrong,” he said. “People appreciate what they have to pay for. If you’re throwing a cheap show, they aren’t going to take you seriously.”

  “I agree with Tim!” Brooke pounded her desk with a fist. “Twenty bucks a head!”

  Several kids in the class booed.

  “Yeah, that’s a little high,” said Tim. “But you should at least be charging five dollars a person.”

  I gave him a dubious look. “You think?”

  He nodded. “Maybe ten if you add a VIP section with swag bags.”

  That got my interest.

  “VIP,” I whispered. The initials practically sparkled before my eyes.

  Katie and I had been thinking too small. Of course we needed a VIP section! We were KV Fashions!

  “What would be in the swag bags?” asked Heather.

  I turned to Tim, and he smiled craftily.

  “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take care of marketing and event planning for your show if you give me profits from any VIP upgrades I sell.”

  “But all the money we make has to go to the school,” I said with a frown.

  “For general admission,” he pointed out. “The VIP experience is an added level.”

  I nodded slowly. “Let me talk it over with Katie and Principal Winslow. We don’t want the cost to keep kids away either.”

  Mary Patrick cleared her throat. “If I can interrupt, the only person you really need there is the buyer, correct? She’s the one you have to impress.”

  “True,” I said.

  “I mean, it’ll be great if kids like your clothes, but if Lazenby’s doesn’t like them, that’s a big problem.”

  “Who wouldn’t fall in love with V’s fashions?” asked Heather, shooting me a confident smile.

  I smiled back, but it wasn’t as confident.

  I’d been so excited about the idea of a buyer at the show, I hadn’t even considered whether she’d like my fashions. What if she didn’t?

  “Then it’s settled,” said Tim. “Vanessa and Katie will charge five dollars for general admission and ten dollars for a VIP upgrade.” He nodded to Felix. “Make sure that’s in the article.”

  Mrs. H looked to me. “Are you okay with that, Vanessa?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “as long as Principal Winslow and Katie are.”

  She nodded. “Double-check and let us know as soon as possible.” Mrs. H moved on to the next piece, and shortly after, we broke into our section groups.

  “Look, I know you’re not crazy about the idea of charging more,” Tim said to me. “But if you ever want to make money, you have to start somewhere.”

  “Plus, you have to pay for all that fabric,” added Brooke.

  “Not really. Katie gets it at a huge discount,” I said. Her father worked at a textile company.

  “A discount means you’re still paying,” said Tim.

  “Fine,” I said. “We’ve already decided what to charge for admission, so let’s move past that. I need to make sure the Lazenby’s buyer is impressed.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Heather. “That’s what your clothes are for.”

  “Right, but I have to make sure the buyer loves them. Word gets around in the biz.”

  Brooke raised an eyebrow. “‘The biz’? You’re not bringing Van Jackson back, are you?”

  Heather elbowed her. “Why would you even mention that?” she whispered loudly. “Van Jackson is trouble!”

  Van Jackson was an alter ego I’d used a couple times to showcase my designer side. For some reason my friends weren’t fans. Probably because Van Jackson was bossy and a bit of a diva. But she made me feel confident.

  “You’re taking way too long to say no,” said Tim, watching me nervously.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not bringing Van Jackson back.”

  All three of my friends breathed sighs of relief.

  “But like I said, I need to make sure I can impress the buyer,” I told them. “Give her what she wants.”

  Brooke gave me a dubious look. “Can you read minds? Because that’s the only way you’ll know.”

  Tim held up
a finger. “Actually, V could scout out the store. It’s what my parents do when they’re checking on the competition.” Tim’s parents owned a few small grocery stores in town.

  Brooke smiled. “What’s there to compete for in their business? Who has the tallest stack of soda cans?”

  “Lots of stuff! Prices, products, and yes, presentation.” Tim counted them off.

  I tapped my fingertips on the desk. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. I should go to Lazenby’s and see what they carry.”

  “How about today?” asked Heather. “My grandma is picking me up, but we can ask her to take a side trip. She loves Lazenby’s, too.”

  “Great!” I said. “Brooke, you wanna come?”

  She made a face. “I can’t. Lacey and I are doing some one-on-one training with the girls on the team.”

  Brooke was captain of her traveling soccer team, the Berryville Strikers, and Lacey Black was her cocaptain.

  “They’re still not looking great?” asked Heather.

  Brooke shrugged. “They’re coming along, but we decided to cross-train a couple more girls in case we lose another starter like we did last month.” She produced the advice requests she’d taken from the box. “But enough about our personal lives. Let’s help some strangers with theirs!”

  Five minutes before the end of class, Brooke bumped my arm.

  “Ready to try and confront the Phantom?”

  I picked up my new flyer. “I want to, but I should really talk to Katie between classes. Especially about these new changes.”

  Brooke plucked the paper from my hand. “Then I’ll take care of this for you and stake out the Phantom on my own.”

  “I can help,” said Heather. “I even have the perfect cover. There’s a water fountain across from Locker 411. We can take turns drinking and watching.”

  “You’re hired!” Brooke passed her the flyer. “Let’s go ask Mrs. H if we can leave early.”

  “I hope they catch whoever it is,” I told Tim when Brooke and Heather left.

  He nodded. “How do you feel about hors d’oeuvres?”

  I blinked at him. “Huh?”

  “Before the fashion show. Or after. It’s your call.”

  “Why does there need to be food at all?” I asked. “That’s just going to cost more money, isn’t it?”