Zane smiled. “That’s really cool of you. Maya lives on my street, you know.”
Here we go. Here’s where he was going to tell me their whole love story. I was going to throw up on the soccer field.
Zane continued, “That jerk Hunter Fisk lives on the street next to ours. He’s been giving her a hard time. Name-calling and stuff while she walked home from school all alone. So I’ve been walking her home for the last week or so. It seems to have helped. Hunter’s moved on to bullying someone else for the time being.”
Wait … what? Zane was only walking Maya home to protect her? Did this mean …?
I blurted out, “So you’re not boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Zane’s face turned as red as Mars. (Known as the red planet. Though it’s really more rust-colored, if you ask me.) He scratched at the back of his neck. His eyes stared at the ground. “No. I, uh, don’t have a girlfriend.”
Then he looked up. Right into my eyes.
I felt my face getting hot. I imagined it as a big giant burning surface, like the sun, with solar flares shooting out of my pores as each second of silence dragged on. My mind yelled at my mouth. Say something, stupid!
Zane looked back down. “Okay, well, I should go. My parents are here somewhere.”
And then, before I could say anything, he’d wandered away to the bleachers.
And I stood there wondering: If nothing was going on between him and Maya … then what was Zane’s big secret?
By the time I got over to the football sidelines, the game had ended. Darcy and Fiona looked so strange standing together. Darcy wore jeans, her black Converse sneakers, and a black T-shirt with white lettering that read WHY BE NORMAL? Fiona, meanwhile, had her hair up in a pink ribbon and wore her cheerleading uniform. And they were chatting. If these two could act friendly, I thought, maybe there’s hope for peace between all nations. Cats and dogs. Vampires and werewolves.
“It’s about time you finished talking to Zane,” Darcy told me, and made an awkward kissing face.
“You look like a fish drowning in air,” I said. “Where are we with the plan?”
“The game just ended,” Fiona said. “My parents are sitting over there. Let’s do this.”
Mr. and Mrs. Fanning sat prim and proper in the front row of the bleachers. Fiona’s little sister, Mia, sat between them, playing a handheld video game. Confused looks colored her parents’ faces as the three of us approached.
Fiona lovingly ruffled Mia’s hair, then got down to business, putting on an Academy Award–worthy performance. “Oh my God, Mom! I totally, totally, totally forgot that, like, I have to work on a class project today with Norah and Darcy. And it’s, like, totally due Monday. So we have to, like, totally go do it now at Norah’s house.”
Mrs. Fanning frowned. “I don’t remember you saying you had a project.”
“Well, duh,” Fiona said. “I forgot!”
“Though it’s a good project,” Darcy said with a sparkle in her eye. “It’s very … mysterious.”
Mrs. Fanning opened her mouth to say something else, but Fiona said, “So I’ll see you later back at the house!”
Mia shouted, “’Bye, Fiona,” but never looked up from her game.
With a quick wave, Fiona turned and linked arms with Darcy and me, and we walked down the track like Dorothy, Scarecrow, and Tin Man down the yellow brick road.
When we got to the back wall of the school near the bike rack, we hid around a corner. Darcy poked her head out and peered into the parking lot.
“Anything?” Fiona asked.
“Not yet … okay, yeah. There they are, walking to their car.”
I leaned over Darcy’s kneeling body and took a peek for myself. Fiona’s parents stopped briefly outside their black car. Mrs. Fanning’s arms flailed in the air like an angry bird. Was she upset that Fiona forgot about a project? Or mad that she was hanging out with us? Or something more?
Then they got in the car and drove away.
“We’re clear,” I said.
“Good.” Darcy went over to the bike rack and unlocked two bikes. She pushed one to Fiona.
“What’s this?” Fiona looked at the bike in disgust. It was a beat-up, black, boys’ bike that had definitely seen better days. I recognized it as Darcy’s old bike from before she’d gotten her new one. Which was also black. And a boys’ one.
“Walking will take too long,” Darcy said. “We have to bike there or we’ll miss a big chunk of conversation.”
Fiona crossed her arms and refused to take it. “I won’t be caught dead on that bike.”
Darcy groaned. “That can be arranged ….”
“Here,” I said, pulling my red bike out of the rack. “You take mine. I’ll ride Darcy’s old bike. Let’s just get going.”
Ten minutes later, we were in the woods behind Fiona’s house. We biked there as fast as we could and entered the forest a few houses down by cutting through the yard of an empty house that was for sale. Our stuff was all ready for us, right where we’d left it that morning.
The woods were quiet and kind of creepy, even though it was a bright sunny day. But the adrenaline rush of excitement was overwhelming any nervous feelings I had. I felt like a real private investigator on a big, dangerous mission. This was so much cooler than how I usually spent my Saturday afternoons.
The woods faced the back of Fiona’s house. My telescope was aimed at one of the house’s many windows. I looked through the scope and adjusted the focus. When we had decided to spy on Fiona’s parents, we knew we needed some gear. Fiona’s innocent comment about my telescope had given me the idea to bring it out here. Sure, I’d only pointed it at the stars before, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be used for spying on people.
I had a clear view of the house. Mia ran upstairs, probably to play. Mr. and Mrs. Fanning were in the kitchen, right where we needed them to be. I tried to read their lips, but they kept moving around the room too much. It wasn’t too hard to read their emotions, though. Red faces, hands flying through the air, mouths moving quickly. They were completely freaking out.
“They’re in the kitchen,” I said. “Take it off mute! Now!”
Darcy lifted her cell phone from the large rock we’d left it on, turned on the speakerphone, and turned up the volume. Immediately, Mr. and Mrs. Fanning’s voices filled the air.
Darcy had come up with this idea. She’d told Fiona to make sure her phone was fully charged. Then, before she left for the game, she was to call Darcy’s phone. Darcy would answer. But they wouldn’t talk. They wouldn’t hang up, either. They’d leave the line open.
Then Fiona would plant her cell phone somewhere in her kitchen. Not under too much stuff (so it could pick up conversation), but not in plain sight (so it wouldn’t be found). Then we’d be able to sit out here and listen on Darcy’s phone. It worked just like how cops bugged bad guys’ houses. Pure genius.
“It might be time to do it again,” Mrs. Fanning said.
I watched through the telescope as their voices came across the cell phone. Mrs. Fanning looked less angry now and more depressed.
Mr. Fanning let out a loud sigh. “But how will we get new —” The last word was muffled.
“New what?” Fiona whispered.
Darcy shrugged. I looked back through the scope.
Mrs. Fanning tapped her fingernails on the kitchen counter. “We have to get in touch with our contact at the program.”
Mr. Fanning rubbed his hands down his face. “I really wish it hadn’t come to this.”
“Me, too, Neil,” Mrs. Fanning agreed. “But it’s gone too far.”
Mr. Fanning put an arm around his wife and gently led her out of the kitchen. I tried to follow them with my scope, but they went into his office, which faced the side of the house.
“We’re out of range of the phone,” I said, and lifted my eyes from the scope. My thoughts were racing.
Darcy groaned. “What are we going to do now? Hope they go back to the kitchen?”
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I took a deep breath. Everything we’d learned over the past few days had been floating around in my head like mismatched puzzle pieces. But one final word that Mrs. Fanning had spoken just made all the pieces click together.
“We don’t need them to,” I said. “I figured out what’s going on.” I turned to Fiona. “I know where Bailey is.”
Fiona stood in the woods behind her house, looking out of place in her cheerleading uniform. Her ponytail trembled as she said, “You know where my twin is?”
“There was never any twin,” I said. “Fiona … you’re Bailey Banks.”
Darcy put the cell phone down and sat on the big rock, eyes wide. “Norah, you’re going to have to explain this theory.”
I nodded, excited by how sure I was. I couldn’t believe how much sense it all made, now that I thought about it. “Fiona was born Bailey Banks,” I said, “but then — at some point — her parents changed her name to Fiona Fanning.”
“But what about the baby pictures?” Fiona asked.
“One is you,” I said. “But the other is probably just your sister, Mia.”
Darcy said, “Mia is like a little Mini-You.”
Fiona brought her hand up to her cheek. “I remember when Mia was born, Mom said she looked exactly like I had. I hadn’t even considered that the pictures could be of Mia and me.” She brought her hand down as confusion returned to her face. “But why would they change my name?”
I tried to think of how to put all my thoughts in some kind of order. I decided to just lay out the evidence — piece by piece. “Fiona, your house is — no offense — very ordinary. It’s an average house. It just blends in. Same with your parents’ car. It looks like every other car. Nothing about your parents stands out.”
“So?” Darcy said. “Lots of people are like that.”
“But it’s almost like they’re going out of their way to blend in. Plus, there’s more.” I took a deep breath and continued. “Your mom loves solving puzzles. So much so that, when she changed Bailey’s name, she even used a code.”
Darcy took a minute to explain the shifted-alphabet code to Fiona. How the initials BAB became FEF.
“And your dad,” I said, “is really good with computers. He works on them all day long ….”
I glanced at Darcy, who gave herself a facepalm. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!” she said. “He would totally know how to encrypt an e-mail.”
I went on. “Last night, Darcy and I did some research on the place Bailey was born — Garretson, South Dakota. It’s a small town where nothing much really happens. Their biggest story of the century was about a criminal who went there to hide from the mob. But the mob found him and killed him … right in front of a witness.”
Fiona’s face scrunched up. “I still don’t get it. What does that have to do with my family?”
“The newspaper article didn’t print the witness’s last name, to protect him, but his first name was Neil.”
Fiona paled. “I thought … I just heard …” She stammered as she pointed to the cell phone on the rock. “I thought I heard my mom just call my father Neil, but his name is Roger. I figured I heard it wrong since the reception is kind of bad.”
When Mrs. Fanning had first said it, for a split second I’d thought I’d misheard it, too. But then the name sounded familiar. I remembered the witness in the article I’d read last night and everything clicked together.
“No,” I said. “You heard it right. Your mom got so emotional that she slipped and called him his real name. I think your father is Neil Banks.”
Darcy gasped. “Add four like the code and NB becomes RF … Roger Fanning.”
“So my dad witnessed a murder?” Fiona’s voice shook.
“And your whole family had to change their names and go into hiding,” I said.
Darcy snapped her fingers. “Mrs. Fanning just said they need to talk to their contact at the program. They must be in the Witness Protection Program.” She started pacing frantically. “It all makes sense now. Everything makes sense.”
“Will someone please explain it to me?” Fiona yelled.
I said, “The Witness Protection Program helps people move away and sets them up with new identities so the bad guys won’t … you know … get them.”
This also explained why Fiona’s parents were so ridiculously overprotective.
Darcy added breathlessly, “And the government has enough power to make an old identity disappear, too. That’s why Bailey seemed to not exist anywhere.”
At that moment, someone started slowly clapping. We’d all been so enthralled in my explanation that we hadn’t been watching the house. We hadn’t seen two people approach the woods. And now they were standing behind us.
Fiona’s parents.
Mr. Fanning, in jeans and a misbuttoned shirt, looked outright downtrodden. His face sagged. Dark bags circled his eyes. Mrs. Fanning wore a trench coat over her outfit. She looked just plain angry.
Shocked, Fiona said, “How did you know we were out here?”
“We went into the office to look up the GPS on your phone to check on where you were,” Mr. Fanning started.
“You monitor my location?” Fiona asked, openmouthed. “Often?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Fanning shrugged. “Why else would we have gotten you a cell phone? We need to know where you are at all times. And this time, you lied. You were not at Norah’s house. In fact, your cell phone was in the kitchen.”
She pulled Fiona’s cell out of her pocket and showed us. It was still on. They’d found the phone through their GPS tracking, picked it up, and listened to us.
They’d heard every word we’d said.
I looked from Fiona to her parents and back again as they stared each other down. It was almost like a contest to see who would break down and speak first.
Fiona said, “Is it true?”
Mrs. Fanning stepped closer to her daughter and said in a soft voice. “Yes. You are Bailey Banks. Mia has always been Mia because she was born after we had to flee. But your father, Roger Fanning, is Neil Banks. And I, Maura Fanning, am Irene Banks. We lived in Garretson, South Dakota.”
“Until the murder,” Fiona said.
Mr. Fanning stepped forward. “I had to testify against one of the biggest criminal bosses in the country. It wasn’t safe for us to stay there. The government helped us move here to Danville. Your mother picked our new names, the government took care of all the identity switching.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The hurt in Fiona’s voice was clear and I understood why. I couldn’t imagine my parents keeping a secret like this from me.
Mrs. Fanning looked down at the ground. “You were just a baby when we had to leave. We knew you’d remember nothing of our past life. And we thought it was best not to tell you. We didn’t want to you be scared.”
“You put the threat in my locker,” I asked. “And e-mailed us to stop investigating.”
“Yes,” Mr. Fanning said. “I didn’t want the truth to come out. It could put all our lives in danger.”
“How did you even know I’d contacted Norah and Darcy for help?” Fiona asked.
Mr. Fanning explained with an embarrassed grin, “We monitor your e-mail.”
Fiona’s face turned red with rage. “You follow my whereabouts on my cell phone! You read all my e-mails!”
“It’s only to protect you, honey.” Mrs. Fanning reached out her arms, but Fiona backed away, still angry.
Mrs. Fanning crossed her arms and frowned. “Well, we’ve loved our new life here in Danville with you and your sister. But now,” she turned to Darcy and me, “you nosy girls have gone and ruined the life we’ve built for ourselves here.”
Her eyes turned stern and determined. She straightened and reached into the side pocket of her coat. “I’m sorry, Fiona,” she said, though her eyes were glued to Darcy and me. “I’m afraid there’s only one thing we can do now.”
“What are you going to do to them?�
�� Fiona screeched.
Darcy looked skeptical, but my stomach was spinning like Mom’s KitchenAid mixer on its highest setting.
Mrs. Fanning pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket and in it was … a folded-up map. “Do to who?”
“Norah and Darcy, to keep them quiet,” Fiona said softly.
Mrs. Fanning rolled her eyes. “Nothing. However, your friends are going to leave now and we’re going to open this map and pick a new place to live.”
“We have to move?” Fiona whined.
“Yes,” Mr. Fanning said. “And choose new names again, of course.”
Fiona burst into tears. “But I don’t want to! I like my life here. I’m popular. What if we move to a new town and I become a friendless loser?”
Oh, the horror, I thought. But I did feel sorry for her. I couldn’t imagine being uprooted from my life. Having to leave the only town I’d ever known. My best friend. Other people (coughZanecough).
Mr. Fanning looked like he was going to cry at the sight of his daughter breaking down. But Mrs. Fanning only shook her head sadly. “Honey, we tried to protect you,” she said softly. “We tried to keep you out of harm’s way. But you involved these girls and they figured everything out. It’s your fault, Fiona.”
This only made Fiona cry harder.
“Actually,” Darcy said, stepping in between Fiona and her mother, “it’s your fault. Have you ever heard of honesty?”
Mrs. Fanning said simply, “We had to leave that behind in South Dakota.”
“Well, then, how about trust?” I said. I moved to one side of Fiona and grabbed her arm. Darcy held her other arm.
Darcy said, “If you had trusted your daughter and she’d known the truth, she wouldn’t have come to us for help. And we’d have never found out about your past. It’s your distrust that caused all of this.”
“Please, Mom.” Tears streamed down Fiona’s cheeks. “This is my life. I don’t want to become someone else. I’ll never tell anyone our family secret, and neither will Norah and Darcy.”
Mrs. Fanning frowned. “I can’t just take their word for it, honey.”
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