A Snitch in the Snob Squad

by Julie Anne Peters

  He shrugged. “Around.”

  I could just picture Max, pushing around a grocery cart, guarding her meager possessions, and living off Dumpster digs.

  “You going to be home tonight?” he said, bouncing the basketball at his side. “I might drop by.”

  It made me remember he never did give me his surprise.

  He added, “I tried to call you last night, but your phone was busy.”

  Ooh. I’d kill Vanessa. Right after I murdered Dad for talking to Uncle Ralph for an hour. Of course, after Dad’s conversation, I was on the phone with Lydia until she had to hang up at nine o’clock on the nose. Then I called Prairie to see if she’d heard anything else about Max, which she hadn’t, or couldn’t reveal.

  “I should be home all night,” I told him. Then I remembered—this was Friday. As in, family fun night.

  Kevin smiled. “See you,” he said.

  The smile lingered. See you, too, I vowed. Somehow.

  During dinner I persuaded Mom and Dad to move family fun time to Saturday. “It’s been a rough week,” I told them, which was a mistake because Mom wanted details.

  “Nothing specific,” I told her. “School is just exhausting. I’m ready for summer vacation. Couldn’t we stay home tonight and watch TV together? Maybe go to a movie tomorrow?”

  “Fine with me,” Dad said, a little too hastily for Mom’s liking.

  Vanessa looked relieved. Now she could practice her clarinet until her lips turned blue.

  At the very same instant, the doorbell buzzed and the phone rang. I raced for the door. The woman standing on the porch, grinning at me, said, “Do you have the Lord in your life?”

  “Let me check,” I said and closed the door.

  Dad came in to take up his usual evening position, lounging in the La-Z-Boy, legs up. “Who was it?” he asked.

  “Another Bible bunny,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  Vanessa yelled from the kitchen, “It’s for you, Jenny.”

  Taking the phone from Vanessa, I told her, “I forgot to get a leaflet. Sorry.” Turning away from her, I said, “Hello?”

  “Jenny, it’s me.”

  My shoulders sagged. Not that I didn’t want to talk to Lydia.

  “Prairie called,” she said. “She told me she talked to Max and she agreed to tell us what’s going on. They want to have a Snob Squad meeting tomorrow. I told her we should clear it with you since you’re the leader. I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning, then I have ballet from two to three-thirty, which my mom won’t let me skip, so could we meet after that?”

  “Tomorrow,” I answered automatically. “Yeah, sure. How ’bout like four?”

  A hand clamped over my shoulder. Mom said, “Don’t make plans for tomorrow. It’s family day, remember?”

  “All day?”

  “No, just for a couple of hours,” Lydia said. “I have to be home by dinner or else I’ll get grounded.”

  I cupped a hand over the phone. “What time’s the movie?” I asked Mom.

  “We haven’t decided what we’re going to see yet,” she said.

  Oh, right. That could take a year.

  Mom added, “Just make yourself available.”

  Geez, is it possible to auction your family off on eBay? To Lydia I said, “Look, something’s come up. I’m not sure I can meet tomorrow.”

  She clucked. “Does it have to do with you-know-who?”

  “Maybe,” I lied. “Anyway, why don’t you guys go ahead and meet without me. But call me afterwards and fill me in. And tell Max not to quit school.”

  “Okay, I’ll try,” Lydia said. “But she won’t listen to me. And if she insults me, I’m holding you personally responsible for my actions. Good-bye.”

  She hung up. A smile warmed me from within. It was good to feel needed. Now the only other thing I needed was for my one true love to turn up.

  I hung around the kitchen for a while, opening and closing the fridge, the pantry, the cookie jar. Testing the sharpness of the knives on the rubber dish mat. Watching the clock. After the third trip back from the front picture window, I felt a presence behind me. Dad said, “You’re wearing a path in the carpet. I’ll come and get you the minute he comes.”

  “Who?” I said.

  He cocked his head.

  See? No privacy. I didn’t want to confirm the fact that Kevin was actually coming over. “If you don’t get me my own phone, I’m… I’m going to kill myself.” I removed a butcher knife from the chopping block.

  Dad wandered across to the fridge. “Don’t get blood on the tile grout,” he said. “It leaves a permanent stain.”

  I shoved the knife back in its slot and stormed out of the room. And when a fat girl storms, you can feel the shock waves. Maybe the surprise was that Kevin was kidding. Kidding about coming over. Kidding about liking me. Kidding about any future together. See why I hate surprises?

  It might’ve been the ringing in my ears from my bedroom door slamming, but I swear I heard the phone.

  “Jenny!” Dad bellowed down the hall. “It’s him.”

  I raced back to the kitchen. Yanking the phone away from Dad, I rested the receiver against my heaving chest. Dad just stood there, grinning like a goon. “Don’t you have somewhere to go, someone to meet, something to launder?” I said to him.

  He chuckled and returned to the living room with a bottle of root beer. After hearing the La-Z-Boy creak, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I said all breathy, and not faking it either.

  “Hey, Jen,” Kevin said. “What’s up?”

  My blood pressure, I almost said. “Not much.” My heart raced. “You still coming over?”

  “I can’t again,” he said. “Can you believe it? My mom forgot to tell me we had a birthday party for my cousin Kimmy tonight. She’s making me go. But, uh, you busy tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? N—” My breath caught. All the life went out of me. “Why?”

  “I was wondering… you wanna, you know, do something?”

  Yes! I almost flew through the ceiling. “Like what?” I said.

  “I dunno. Go to a movie?”

  “Together?” My voice rose an octave.

  “No,” he said. “I thought we’d go alone. You sit in front and I’ll sit in back. I can throw popcorn at you.”

  I giggled. He was so adorable. “Okay,” I said, “but you’re buying the popcorn.”

  With a smile in his voice, he said, “Serious. I could meet you at the mall.”

  The mall. How romantic. “What time?”

  “What movie do you want to see?”

  Who cares? I doubt I’d be watching anything after the snack bar commercials. “You pick,” I said.

  “Okay. How about Bloody Tuesday: The Amputation?”

  “Yes! I’ve been dying to see that,” I said.

  “There’s a show at one-thirty,” he said. “Or…” A newspaper rustled in the background. “Four o’clock.”

  “I guess the one-thirty. Hold on a minute.” Covering the phone with my hand, I whirled around. No one was there, surprisingly enough, so I hollered into the living room, “Dad, could we do our family junk on Sunday instead?”

  Mom’s head appeared around the corner from the basement stairs. “Would you like to rephrase that?” she said.

  “Okay. Can we move our family junk from tomorrow to Sunday?”

  Mom gave me her extremely annoyed look. Dad appeared in the doorway. “We all agreed on tomorrow, which, I believe was your suggestion. So, no,” he said. “Tomorrow is our family day.”

  Mom smiled at him. A current of warmth passed between them. Great, I thought. They choose this moment to be joined in holy wedlock.

  So much for my first, and last, date. I pounded my head on the wall, hoping for an aneurysm. The blows must’ve whipped up a brainstorm. “Kevin, you still there?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “I just remembered, tomorrow is out. Could we do it on Sunday?”

  “Sure. Oh
, wait,” he said. “I can’t Sunday. We’re going up to my uncle’s cabin in the mountains. One of those family things, you know?”

  Did I ever. He had a bigger family than the Bradys.

  I sighed.

  He sighed. “I have to see you, Jenny,” he said softly. “I have this present for you.”

  My fingers froze to the receiver. “What is it?” I managed to say without croaking.

  “I can’t tell you. You know…”

  “I’ve never been big on surprises,” I informed him. “You can tell me. I’ll act surprised.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Finally he said, “Naw. I’ll just give it to you on Monday.”

  Monday? Monday was a lifetime away.

  Chapter 12

  Good thing we had all day Saturday for our family fun time because that’s how long it took us to decide on a movie. Mom wanted to see a four-hour-long sweeping epic about some poor family who immigrates to America, strikes it rich, then loses everything and spawns another generation who makes all the same mistakes. Proving that history repeats itself and is as boring as Barney. Dad wanted to see a western. Yeehaw. Vanessa didn’t want to go, and I voted for Bloody Tuesday: The Amputation, thinking I just might run into someone I know and love.

  Guess where we ended up? At the latest dorky Disney. The minute we walked in my ears were assaulted by a bejillion screaming kids in the theater. I think their parents dropped them off for the weekend. All the way down the aisle, when my sandals weren’t sticking to the tacky carpet, popcorn crunched under my soles. I’d never dig it all out. The only four seats together were on the left side, way in back. It wasn’t until I sat down that I discovered my cushion was all wet. I didn’t even want to think why.

  Ever notice how all Disney movies are the same? A beautiful babe and a gorgeous hunk start out hating each other’s guts. She saves his life, or vice versa, they fall in love, someone dies then comes back from the dead, and everyone lives sappily ever after. Just like real life—on some other planet.

  After the movie Vanessa and I immediately veered out toward the parking lot. Dad called, “What’s the rush? Let’s mosey on down to the ice cream parlor.”

  No kidding. He said, “Mosey on down.” He said, “Ice cream parlor.”

  I muttered to Vanessa, “And this is your brain on Disney.”

  “What’s left of it,” she muttered back.

  “Good idea, Robert,” Mom said, looping an arm through Dad’s. “It’ll give us all a chance to talk.”

  Vanessa and I rolled our eyes, but we trailed them down the mall. I mean, what could we do? Except try to lose them in the crowd, which was impossible since Mom kept glancing over her shoulder giving us the evil eye.

  Near the Nut Shoppe, Vanessa whispered, “This is so bogus. Who goes to a mall on Saturday with their parents?”

  “Really,” I agreed. “If we see anyone we know, let’s start yelling and screaming like we’re being kidnapped.”

  What we did was drop back as far as possible. When we were out of earshot of Mom and Dad, Vanessa said, “So tell me about Kevin.”

  My face flared. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where did you meet him? What’s he like? Does he have a brother?”

  I said, “At school. He’s way cool. And I don’t know.”

  Van shook her head. “I can’t believe it. My baby sister has a boyfriend before I do.”

  “I’m not a baby,” I replied. “Unless you’re talking baby elephant.”

  “You just turned twelve. I bet you don’t even have all your permanent teeth yet.”

  I sneered. “I’m going on thirteen. I have permanent teeth and PMS, for your information.”

  She stared off down the mall and sighed. “Who’d want a sicko like me, anyway?”

  I stopped and grabbed her bony arm. “Don’t say that, Van. You’re not a sicko.”

  She just looked at me.

  “I mean it. You’re lots better. When was the last time you cut your Cheerios in half?”

  A smile tugged the corner of her lip.

  “See?” I said. “And you hardly ever get lost in mirrors. Or change your clothes a hundred times a day—wait, that’s normal. Oh, I know. You hardly ever take more than two or three hours in the bathroom to count the hairs in the brush. Just that one time I had to go so bad that I ran out to use the tree in the Crotchedys’ backyard.”

  “You didn’t—” She shoved me. I shoved her back.

  “Hurry up, you two,” Dad called through cupped hands. “You’re losing us.”

  “He noticed,” Van murmured.

  We resumed our funeral procession toward the ice cream parlor. Out of the blue Vanessa said, “Dr. Sid wants me to open up more; express my feelings. So here goes. I’m glad you’re my sister.”

  I looked over at her, shocked. “Ditto,” I managed to say.

  She added, “And believe it or not, as weird as they are, I’m glad they’re our parents.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to wish them on anyone else. Well, maybe Ashley Krupps.” Speaking of witch… the pink Nikes caught my eye first. Then the too-tight jean skirt, the velour top, and the purse. The purse that was strapped to Ashley’s chest like an oxygen tank.

  “Quick, hide me.” I spun Vanessa around and ducked behind her. As if a walking stick could hide a tree trunk. Using Vanessa as a shield, I watched Ashley and Melanie approach.

  Vanessa slowed. “Keep walking,” I whispered, twisting her around in a half circle.

  “It’s kinda hard when you’re pulling me backward,” she said. But she got my drift and wove in and out of traffic.

  Finally they were past us and I loosened my death grip on Vanessa’s arms. Geez, it left welts. “Sorry,” I mumbled. Peeking over Vanessa’s shoulder, I watched as Ashley wiggled her rear and gestured dramatically to Melanie.

  Vanessa said, “Who are they?”

  “Just some snobs from school—” Snobs! I had to call the Squad. This was our chance to catch Ashley in the act. No doubt she was here to spend Mrs. Jonas’s money. Then I remembered: Ashley had been hanging around near the PC lab that day, too. She could’ve taken Ms. Milner’s money. And if I had to choose between Ashley and Max as far as criminal tendencies, Ashley got my vote.

  “Come on.” I grabbed Vanessa’s wrist and yanked. “We need to find a phone.”

  Chapter 13

  Vanessa suggested an alternate plan. She said she’d stall Mom and Dad at I Scream Ice Cream while I went in search of a phone. Luckily, I had some change on me. Luckily, I remembered Lydia’s number. Unluckily, no one answered. “Come on, Lyd,” I pleaded to the coin slot. Three, four, five rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes! You’re there,” I said.

  “Where else would I be?” Lydia grumbled. “Mom won’t let me go to Max’s this afternoon.”

  “Why not?”

  Lydia sighed wearily. “She heard about the thefts at school. She called Mr. Krupps and I guess Max’s name came up.” She clucked. “He told her Max was seen at school the day Ms. Milner got robbed.”

  Who would’ve told?… Ashley, I seethed silently. She must’ve spotted Max. The snitch.

  Lydia went on, “I guess Mr. Krupps sent the cops to Max’s house, but she got away before they could handcuff her and read her her rights.”

  Lydia was prone to exaggeration, but it made me shudder to think it might be the truth. My resolve to get Ashley Krupps registered off the Richter scale.

  Lydia said, “Now my mom doesn’t want me hanging around with Max anymore.”

  “But Max didn’t do it.” At least, I didn’t think so. I hoped not. I wanted to believe so bad.…

  “I know she didn’t do it,” Lydia replied. “But try telling my mother that.”

  No way. You don’t disagree with a child psychologist. She has the power to pack you off to the funny farm, wherever that is. I didn’t think it’d be funny. “Look, I’m here at Creekside Mall and I just saw Ashley and Melanie. This is ou
r chance. If we can catch them spending the stolen money, we’ll have proof Ashley did it and Max didn’t.”

  “Yeah, perfect,” Lydia said. “But…”

  I waited. “But what?”

  Lydia sighed again. “How can we prove the money they’re spending is the stolen money?”

  Good point, I thought. Too bad Prairie wasn’t here. She’d know the answer, since she’s the brainpower of the Snob Squad.

  “Well,” I thought aloud, “we could at least see how much they’re spending. I bet it’ll be almost exactly what was stolen. Then we report it and let Krupps take it from there.” Oh, the gossip. The humiliation. The lifelong grounding. What a delicious thought.

  “Not bad,” Lydia said. “But what do I tell my mom?”

  Geez, did I have to do all the thinking? “Tell her whatever you have to. Then call Prairie. Tell her to get hold of Max and meet us—” I glanced around, “in front of the Sears in half an hour.” I didn’t figure we’d run into Ashley anywhere near Sears. “Be here by four o’clock. Same time we would’ve met at the Peacemobile.”

  “This is a waste of time,” Lydia muttered.

  “It’s our best opportunity to prove Max’s innocence.” Prove it to myself, I didn’t say. “Don’t you want to get her off?”

  Lydia clucked. “Of course I do. I just meant… my mom…” She exhaled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  A few minutes later I sauntered casually into I Scream Ice Cream, squeezing through the narrow aisles between tables, and elbowing some old lady’s head. Mom and Dad glared. Mom especially. “Where’ve you been?” she said. “We’ve been here for ten minutes. There’s a line of people outside waiting for these tables.”

  “Sorry.” I almost added, Call the ice cream cops. “Did you order already?”

  “No,” Mom said. “We were waiting for you.”

  I studied the menu. Everything was color-coded. No fat. No sugar. No dairy. No eggs. No taste. Finally, at the bottom was the real deal. I ordered a peanut butter parfait with extra nuts and whipped cream. Mom opened her mouth, then shut it when I shot her my most defiant stare. Sometimes it works.

  My food diary loomed in my mind. “Okay, forget the extra nuts,” I told the waitress. “And the whipped cream.” That seemed to please Mom.