A Snitch in the Snob Squad

by Julie Anne Peters

  Dad made chitchat while we waited. I kept twisting around, looking at the clock. By the time our ice cream arrived, it was ten to four.

  You know how when you eat ice cream in a hurry it makes your head throb? Instant headache. I bet when my brain burst and splattered gray matter all over the wall, the tables would clear out fast.

  Mom said, “Maybe if you ate slower, you’d enjoy your food more.”

  “Who says I’m not enjoying it?” I slurped a heaping teaspoonful of parfait into my frozen wasteland of a mouth. “In fact,” I added, just to irk Mom, “I could probably enjoy another one.”

  Vanessa smirked. That encouraged me. “Or even two,” I said, “by the time you guys finish. Could you hurry up?” It was now three minutes to four.

  “What’s the hurry?” Dad said. “We’re just sitting here enjoying each other’s company. Aren’t we, hon?” He took Mom’s hand.

  Vanessa and I rolled eyes. “Yeah, well, the people in line aren’t too thrilled about our family hour.”

  I thumbed over my shoulder, where a mob of moms with screaming kids machine-gunned us down with dirty looks.

  “What else do we want to do today?” Dad asked.

  “I’m glad you asked,” I said. “Personally, I’d like to stay and shop. Since we’re here.”

  “Good idea,” Mom said. “I need some new pantyhose. And Robert, you could use a few new pairs of boxer shorts.”

  Panic surged. My eyes met Vanessa’s. Her panic mimicked mine. Suddenly Van fell forward, clutching her stomach.

  “Vanessa, what’s wrong?” Mom said.

  “I feel sick,” she replied weakly. “I might have the flu. It’s going around. I haven’t felt good all day.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom said.

  Vanessa shrugged. “I didn’t want to spoil our family fun time.”

  That’s when I knew she was faking it.

  Dad stood. “We’d better get you home.”

  Mom helped Vanessa to her feet. “That’s the trouble with this family,” Mom said. “We don’t communicate.” She looked at me.

  Why was she looking at me? I thought I communicated what I wanted very clearly.

  We weren’t even out of our chairs before there was a stroller stampede toward our table. “Yeow!” I cried when a twin double-seater smashed my foot.

  The mad mom didn’t even apologize. And I swear the little brats gave me matching evil grins.

  Outside the ice cream parlor, Vanessa stopped and said, “I don’t want to spoil everybody’s fun. We don’t all have to go home.”

  “Nonsense,” Mom said. “Of course we’re all going. We wouldn’t be a family without you.”

  Vanessa heaved a sigh. “There’s no reason Jenny has to come. She could stay and shop. And, I just remembered, I do need a new clarinet reed. Could you get one for me, Jen? A Mitchell Lurie Premium, three and a half.” She cocked her head at me pathetically. “I need it by tomorrow.” She coughed.

  “Sure, Van. No problem,” I said, like I knew what she was talking about. Squeezing her shoulder, I added, “You just take it easy. But if you don’t make it, could I have your CD player?”

  She almost laughed, then covered it in another cough.

  I looked at Dad. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, I said, “I’ll be all right. You can pick me up in a couple hours. I’ll call you when I’m ready.” I answered Mom’s unspoken objection with, “I won’t be alone. I saw a couple of friends earlier. I’ll catch up with them.”

  She lived to hear I had friends. It made me seem normal.

  Vanessa groaned. “Could we go now?”

  Dad’s eyes met Mom’s. Somehow, silently, they settled the debate. Dad dug in his wallet. “If you happen to be in Penney’s, near the men’s underwear—”

  I snatched the twenty. “Not in this life,” I muttered.

  He chuckled as he slid an arm around Vanessa’s waist. Before they disappeared into the sunset, Vanessa twisted around and smiled at me.

  For a sister, she was way cool.

  Chapter 14

  Lydia and her mom, Dr. Marianne Beals, were waiting in front of the Sears store when I got there, huffing and puffing my guts out. I’d met Dr. Beals when the Squad had a sleepover at Lydia’s house to take glamour photos, and I liked her a lot. For a mom. Lydia’s complaint was that she was a control freak. But whose mother wasn’t?

  “Hello, Jenny,” Dr. Beals said. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I wheezed. Before I could ask about the others, Lydia said, “Prairie is going to meet us here.” She held a finger to her lips, so I knew not to ask about Max.

  “These thefts at your school are unconscionable,” Dr. Beals said to me, like I knew what that meant.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, like I did.

  “Lydia tells me Max is innocent. That you think you know who did it, but don’t want to accuse anyone until you have proof. I think that’s admirable.”

  My face flared. Did I say that? Lydia was full of it.

  Dr. Beals added, “Even though I really feel you should tell your principal what you know.”

  “Mother, please.” Lydia rolled her eyes at me. “I can handle it. That’s what you want me to do, right?”

  She didn’t have a comeback for that.

  “Yo!”

  We all turned. Saved by the Max. She and Prairie materialized out of the crowd. Boy, was I glad to see Max alive and kicking. Lydia rushed over to greet her, leaving me alone with Dr. Beals, who’d gone stiff as a board.

  It wasn’t just Max’s appearance. Or maybe it was. Max was sporting a black sports bra with her baggy camouflage pants. The pants hung halfway down her hips and you could see the plaid waistband of her boxer shorts. No one ever accused Max of not making a fashion statement. No one ever accused Max of anything, if they valued their life.

  Lydia grabbed Prairie’s arm and hitched her chin at me. “I’ll call you when we’re done,” she yelled over her shoulder to her mother.

  Leaving Dr. Beals in the dust, we hauled you-know-what down the mall. “You’re not really quitting school, are you?” Lydia asked Max.

  “Maybe,” Max mumbled.

  “Have you really been living at the bus station?” I said. “With the homeless people?”

  “Huh?” Max curled a lip at me.

  “Can I tell them?” Prairie said.

  Max shrugged. “I guess.”

  “She’s b-been staying with me. Her mom knows and everything.”

  “Thank God.” Lydia slapped her chest.

  “So, what happened with the cops?” I asked.

  Max replied, “I’ll tell you later. Where’s Kruppsbutt and Melon-head?” We’d stopped and gathered ’round the wiener wagon.

  “They were heading toward Dillard’s,” I said.

  “What’s the plan?” Lydia asked.

  Why does she always ask me? Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to be the leader.

  Max said, “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” She looked at Lydia like she was a helium head. To me, she said, “Prayer thought we could use these.” She shoved her hands into her extra-large pockets and pulled out four plastic cases.

  As she passed them out, I cried, “Brilliant, Prairie!”

  Prairie blushed. “My brothers got them for Christmas.”

  “What are they?” Lydia asked, examining her black box.

  Prairie answered, “Walkie-t-talkies.”

  A slow smile spread across Lydia’s lips. “I get it. For spying. Sweet.”

  Prairie added, “They might need batteries.”

  I pressed the Talk button. “Breaker, breaker,” I said into the microphone. “This is Sumo Sal calling any ears on in the SS. What’s yer flying orders, good buddies?”

  Max’s eyes widened. “You know CB?”

  “My uncle Ralph was a trucker. About six jobs ago. He taught me.”

  “Cool,” Max breathed. I felt a new reverence all around. “Teach me to say, ‘Roger, Charlie. Over and out.’ ”


  I pressed my Talk button. “Roger, Charlie. Over and out.”

  Max gave me her death look.

  “Or you could say, ‘To ya, buddy. On the flip-flop.’ ”

  Prairie giggled. She pressed her button and said, “On the f-flip-flop.” It echoed out into the mall.

  Lydia tried her walkie-talkie. Nothing happened. “Mine’s dead,” she said.

  Max tested hers. It was dead, too. “First stop,” I told them, “is the Walgreens for batteries.”

  On the way I informed them that we needed to make up handles. “You know, code names. Like Seat to the Saddle; that was Uncle Ralph’s. Or Lady Lead Foot. That was his girlfriend’s.”

  “Cool.” Max shook her head. “This is so cool.”

  Sometimes I loved being the leader. When we got to the cashier to pay for the batteries, Lydia said, “I didn’t bring any money. Did you?”

  Max and Prairie dug into their pockets. They had about thirty cents between them. “I’ll get it,” I said, even though I was planning to spend that twenty on replenishing my stash of candy. With low-fat granola bars, of course. “I’m rich today.”

  A knowing look passed between Max and Prairie. I didn’t know what it knew. “What?” I asked.

  Prairie lowered her eyes. “Nothing,” she said.

  I shrugged it off. Weirdness ran rampant in this group.

  As we loaded the batteries and headed down to Dillard’s, I taught everyone a few phrases in CB talk and we tried out our new handles. “Breaker, breaker,” I said to my box. “This is Sumo Sal, coming in on the south side. Anyone got their ears on? Over.”

  “That’s a five five,” Max said. “What’s yer flying orders, Sumo?”

  “Spy in the sky.” I covered my mike. “That means a helicopter cop, but it could mean just a spy, too. Puttin’ the kill on the Krupps. Reckon to turn her over to the big hats.” Which means catching Ashley in the act and letting the authorities know, loosely translated.

  Lydia pressed her Talk button. “Carmen SanDiego here,” she said. “Over.”

  We all looked at her.

  “What? She’s the only spy I know.”

  Prairie signed on. “This is Double O T-Trouble. Here’s pie in your eye.” She grinned.

  Max raised her walkie-talkie to her mouth. “Roger, over. This here’s La Cucaracha.” She grinned.

  Only Max would dub herself The Cockroach.

  “There they are!” Prairie pointed. Quickly she raised her walkie-talkie to her lips. “S-Suspect headed into World of Leather.”

  “Over,” Lydia replied. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” I grabbed her sleeve. “One of us goes in. The others hang back. Spread out. Take cover.”

  “I’ll go in,” Lydia said. She dashed toward the door, then stopped and spun around. Pressing her walkie-talkie close to her mouth, she said, “Can you hear me?”

  Her voice came out loud and clear. Max replied, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Breaker, breaker.’ ”

  “Excuuuse me,” Lydia said. It echoed in the mall.

  “Be careful, Lydia,” I said.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  I added, “Check in when you get close to them. Try to find out what they’re buying and how much it costs.” I told the others, “Let’s split up. Keep the World of Leather in sight.”

  We all headed off in different directions. I crouched beside a potted palm, while Prairie and Max slipped behind the giant fountain.

  A few seconds later my walkie-talkie crackled to life. “They’re leaving,” Lydia’s voice whispered through my box.

  “They buy anything?” I asked.

  “Negatori,” she said.

  Another voice came on. “Suspects headed to Pamela Petites,” Prairie said.

  Max replied, “I got ’em.”

  “Stay close,” I ordered everyone else.

  Reflected in the stores’ glass panes, Lydia slinked down the mall. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be picked up by the mall police for suspicious behavior. Max’s voice came online. “They’re looking through the shorts. Wait. Krupps is taking one to the fitting room.”

  Lydia said, “Like Ashley could get one leg into a pair of petites.”

  Prairie tittered.

  “La Cucaracha,” I called. “What’s Melanie doing?”

  “Nothin’ much. Standing around, acting stupid. She’s got a bag from Blockbuster. Looks like a CD or something.”

  Rats, I thought. We missed a purchase. Okay, she’d spent probably twelve to fifteen dollars on the CD. “Keep watching,” I ordered Max. “If Ashley picks anything out, go back to the rack and see how much it costs.”

  “That’s a five five,” Max said.

  We repeated the routine four more times. One of us would follow them into the store and note the prices on anything they bought. We were so good, so invisible, I considered adding covert operations to my list of career possibilities.

  It was after six o’clock by the time we trailed Ashley and Melanie to the exit. The four of us walkie-talkied our way to the food bazaar. Lydia called her mom to tell her she was eating with us; reassure her she wasn’t being corrupted. Meanwhile, I bought a pepperoni pizza and we jammed into a booth.

  “Okay,” I began. “I figure they spent about…” I counted all the places they’d been on my fingers, trying to remember all their purchases.

  Lydia said, “Here, I wrote everything down.” She withdrew a little spiral notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. “Give me a minute to add it all up.”

  “Lyd, you should be a Boy Scout,” Max said.

  Lydia gave her a dirty look.

  Max swallowed her mouthful of pizza. “What I meant is you practice their motto: Be prepared.”

  She met my eyes.

  “It’s a compliment,” I said. “Isn’t it?” I queried Max.

  She smirked. Lydia went back to eating and calculating. “They bought those matching sleeveless T-shirts for eight ninety-nine each, and the earrings, and those hair scrunchies.”

  “Don’t forget the CD,” I said.

  Prairie piped up, “Did you guys notice that Ashley p-paid for everything?”

  My eyes widened. “You’re right, she did.” That should add fuel to the fire. The fire with which we were going to burn Ashley Krupps to a crisp.

  “It comes to forty-eight dollars and ninety-nine cents,” Lydia announced. “Give or take five dollars for the CD. Who knows if it was on sale or not?”

  “So, let’s say fifty bucks,” I said. “Assuming they already spent Mrs. Jonas’s money on their matching outfits, how much was stolen from Ms. Milner?”

  Everyone looked blank.

  “I could ask her on Monday,” Prairie said.

  Lydia added, “And if it’s more than that, we could always follow Ashley again next weekend. This was fun.” She beamed.

  We all beamed. It’d been a blast.

  “All right,” I said. “By Monday afternoon Ashley’s going down. And it won’t be in a blaze of glory. Which means, Max, you’ll be in the clear.”

  “Who cares?” she grumbled.

  “I do,” Prairie said.

  “Me, too,” I said. We both looked at Lydia.

  She clucked. “Of course I care.”

  “All for one,” I began.

  “And one for all,” they finished. We gave the Snob Squad salute.

  Chapter 15

  Kevin was waiting for me Monday morning when I got off the bus. Falling into step beside me, he said, “How are ya, Jen?”

  I almost melted all over his Reeboks. “Good,” I said casually. “How was your uncle’s cabin?”

  “It was okay. I, uh…” He grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for anyone within earshot. Such as Lydia, who was hustling toward us at the speed of a spitwad. Luckily she tripped over her feet and crashed into a trash can, which rolled into another one creating a domino effect all the way to the Dumpster. Leave it to Lydia.
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  Kevin said quickly, “Iwantedtogiveyouthis.” He pressed something into my hand. It was a box, white and oblong, held together with a red rubber band. “Ididn’thavetimetowrapitsorry.”

  “Another present?” I stared at the box. “Geez, Kevin. You shouldn’t have.” Then I thought, Why not? I’m worth it. I sounded like a shampoo commercial and it made me giggle.

  Kevin smiled. “Go ahead. Open it.”

  I turned the box over. On the bottom was a price tag. I gasped. Out loud I read, “Ninety-five dollars and ninety-nine cents?”

  “Huh?” Kevin’s jaw jammed. He read the sticker and blushed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” He tried to scrape it off with a thumbnail and couldn’t.

  I had the urge to hug him, but checked it.

  Rolling off the rubber band, I lifted the top and gasped again. “Oh, my God, Kevin!” Inside was a glittering gold chain with a little gold J in the middle. It was dainty and delicate. And expensive-looking.

  “You can wear it all the time,” Kevin said. “It’s real gold. It won’t turn green in the shower or anything.”

  Just then Lydia arrived. “Hi, Jenny. You’ll be glad to know Max is back.”

  “All right!” It was looking like our last week of school was going to be awesome.

  “Oh, hi, Kevin,” Lydia said dryly. “I suppose you two love birds want to be alone.”

  Neither of us replied.

  “What’s that, another present?”

  Without answering, I looped the necklace over my head. The little links flowed through my fingers. I’d never felt anything so precious, so perfect.

  Lydia punched her fists into her hips. “Okay, fine. Be a snot. Act like Ashley.” She huffed, then spun and stomped away.

  That hurt. “Lydia, wait,” I called.

  She didn’t turn around.

  “Lydia!”

  Kevin said, “I gotta go, anyway,” He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. “The guys are waiting. Maybe we could do a movie or something this weekend.”

  “I do,” I said. “I mean, I’d love to.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled. “Okay.”