The Case of the Bad Twin

by Shannon Greenland

  “Your secret is safe with me,” she says.

  What a big fat liar. She went and told her brothers. There’s no telling how many more people she’s told my secret to. Probably even Rocco during one of their make-out sessions.

  Ugh!

  I fire off a text to Rocco: I’M DONE. Then I throw my phone in the basket and don’t glance at it again.

  As I’m furiously peddling home, I think of Mom. Maybe I should leave Piper Island and go with her when she gets out of jail. At least then I won’t be annoying anyone.

  Chapter 28

  When I get home, Rocco is sitting on the porch scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t glance up at me as I weave through our decorative yard, marching straight toward him.

  “What do you think of me?” I ask.

  “Huh?” He glances up.

  “Am I nice? Am I annoying? Am I funny?” I plant my hands on my hips. “What do you think of me?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Just answer the question. Honestly. I can take it.” I already know what Officer Crawl thinks of me. And Josie. And Mama Garcia. And now Wayne. Plus, Diamond said the kids at school call me a “goodie”, and at the time I wasn’t sure how to take that, but now I’m offended by it. I mean, who wants a goodie-goodie hovering around? I wouldn’t.

  “Okay.” Rocco puts his phone away as he cautiously takes me in like he thinks I’m going to pepper him or something once he speaks. To show him I’m not, I slide Grandpa Jack’s bag off and lay it beside Rocco on the porch.

  He tucks it behind him out of my reach, and I roll my eyes.

  He says, “In class, you’re the first to raise your hand. You’re definitely every teacher’s pet. You’re the President of pretty much every club you can join. You make straight A’s. I’ve never heard you cuss. You never do anything wrong. You go overboard in the volunteer department. Heck, the last week of school you were helping the janitors clean graffiti off the bathroom stalls.”

  “What do I think of you?” He rolls his eyes up like he’s looking for the right words. “I think maybe you try too hard.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with doing good things,” I grumble.

  His light eyes take in my face. “Nobody likes a know it all, though.”

  “You think I’m a know it all?”

  “Kind of.”

  I look away from him as I mull through everything he just said, and maybe he’s right. Maybe I could try not raising my hand every time a teacher asks a question. It’s just that I like school. I like the teachers, the clubs, making A’s, and getting awards. I never had any of that before.

  Or maybe I could try saying a cuss word every now and then. But not even when I traveled with Mom, did I cuss. She didn’t, so neither did I. Damn, I mouth, trying it out.

  Or maybe I could try letting someone else do something for a change. I don’t have to be in charge of everything. It’s just, I love living on an island named after my family. I want to do everything I can to carry on the legacy.

  I bring my gaze back to his. “Do the kids at school generally like me, though?” I don’t want people to dislike me.

  “Sure,” he says, but his response doesn’t sound convincing. “You’ve heard of the ‘dog with a bone’ analogy?”

  “Once I sink my teeth into something, I won’t let go?”

  “Yeah, but for you, it’s more like a hyena with a bone. Maybe try down-stepping it to a dog. A gentle dog. A Clover dog.”

  I suppose he’s right. It’s not always about winning, Penny-Ann. Sometimes it’s about having fun and being a good sport. Aunt Grace told me that last year at the school’s field day when Josie and I lost the three-legged race. If she wouldn’t have tripped, we would’ve won, and I told Aunt Grace as much. She didn’t agree with me and instead responded with the “good sport” speech.

  Motioning Rocco to scoot over, I plop down beside him on the porch steps. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Your parents are pro surfers, right?”

  “No, they’re trying to become pro, which just means they travel a lot and do competitions, trying to place, trying to score sponsorship.”

  “How often do you see them?”

  “Every few months, why?”

  “Does it bother you, not living with them?”

  “Sometimes,” he quietly admits. “But they call me nearly every day, so it doesn’t seem so bad.”

  Shifting back on the step, I lean down and pick up a decorative stone and roll it around in my fingers. “Do you know about my mom?”

  Rocco doesn’t immediately answer, and I lift my eyes from the stone to look at him. “Yes,” he says. “I know she’s in jail, but I don’t know why.”

  I look back down at the stone. “You’ve never said anything.”

  “None of my business.”

  “She conned a bunch of people out of money. She took me on those cons, too. I guess people tend to trust women who have children. I’m discovering more people around here know about it than I thought. Wayne, for example, just brought it up. Someone sent Mom’s mugshot to Principal Berger.” I don’t mention Mama Garcia’s words because she’s Rocco’s grandmother. She was reacting to my accusations about Rocco.

  “Okay, first of all, that sucks. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “Second, why would someone send your mom’s mugshot to Berger?”

  “Trying to connect me to the theft of the capsule. Wayne said it, too.”

  “That’s a bunch of bull. Wayne said that just to get at you, and clearly, it worked. Just because your mom is a thief doesn’t mean you are.”

  Tossing the colorful stone back into the yard, I quietly admit, “But I am. I did those cons with my mom.”

  “Sounds to me like you didn’t have a choice.”

  “But I did. I could’ve said no.” What’s more, I enjoyed it.

  He jabs his finger into the air. “No, now is when you could and should say no. Not back then. You didn’t know any better, right? She taught you to be a con. How is that your fault?”

  For a few seconds, I don’t say anything as I think through that. No one’s ever put it quite like that before. It makes sense. Now is when I say no. When, or if, Mom gets released, and if I have to go with her, I have a choice. I can say no to her cons. She can’t make me participate.

  Rocco bumps his shoulder to mine. “What about you? You ever see your mom and dad?”

  “Mom I see once a month on family day. Dad, I have no clue, or rather I should say, Mom has no clue who my dad is.”

  “It happens,” Rocco says, and that makes me smile. It’s the first time I’ve told anybody about the dad situation. Not even Josie knows that.

  How odd that Rocco is the one I tell. One week ago, I would’ve never thought I’d be sitting here on my porch beside Rocco sharing secrets.

  Tires crunch on my gravel driveway, and we both glance up to see Diamond rolling in on her moped. She kills the engine, throws the kickstand down, and with her helmet still on, strolls across my yard straight toward us.

  “Hey,” she says, motioning around our ornamental yard. “Love the decorations.”

  That’s right. The only other time she’s been here was at dark. “Thanks,” I say back. “What’s up? Any luck on the mohawk kid?”

  “No, but you’re not going to believe this.” From the front pocket of her black skinny jeans, she pulls out a piece of paper, unfolds it, and hands it to me. “I found this taped to the community board at the marina.”

  Rocco leans in and together we read the paper. Printed in big bold black across the top is 100 DOLLAR REWARD and sprinkled underneath is a picture of the capsule and all the items contained within. At the very bottom in large block lettering is a number to call.

  Rocco and I share a surprised glance. “Who the heck is offering this?” he asks.

  I grab my phone. “Let’s find out.” I dial the number, and a few seconds la
ter, we hear. “This is The Pit. May I help you?”

  Clicking off, I look at Diamond and Rocco. “Well, that’s interesting.”

  Diamond grins. “With the original fifty dollar reward, that’s a good haul. One-fifty in total. Seventy-five each.”

  “Hey!” Rocco says. “I’m part of this team now.”

  “Just testing,” she teases. “Fifty each then.”

  I think again of Aunt Grace’s words about being a good sport. That’s exactly what Diamond’s doing with Rocco joining us. It’s exactly what I’m doing, too.

  “You don’t think Wayne put up that hundred do you?” Rocco asks. “He’s going above and beyond in the brother department.”

  “Who knows?” I shrug, already imaging handing my cut over to Aunt Grace. She’ll be so shocked. Maybe that’ll make up for the fibbing I’ve been doing.

  Behind me, the sun shifts, lowering over the mainland, getting ready to set for the night. Diamond glances up, noticing, and gives us both a little wave. “Curfew got to go. Call you first thing in the morning.”

  Rocco follows behind her, shooting me a little grin over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

  That grin makes all kinds of things squirm in my belly. “Bye,” I say, waving. Then I stand on our porch and watch the two of them putter off, Diamond on her moped and Rocco close behind on his electric scooter.

  I’ve been so focused on trying to keep things going with Josie that I haven’t bothered, really, to make other friends. Now I have two. Rocco and Diamond. Sure, I knew Rocco before, but something’s shifted now, and I’m glad of it. The fact is when this whole thing is over, I’m going to miss him coming around. Somewhere in all of this mess, we became friends.

  The thing is, with Josie, even during our good spots, I was always on guard, though I didn’t realize that until now. I haven’t once been on guard with Diamond. I’ve been more myself around her than anyone. I like that.

  Grabbing my messenger bag, I let myself into our house, and as I’m laying all my stuff down, my phone rings. The caller ID says Wayne. “Yes?” I answer.

  “My parents put up a hundred bucks for your pain-in-the-butt time capsule.”

  I don’t bother responding to his curt tone. Instead, I calmly say, “Tell them I said thank you.”

  My response takes him off guard, and for a second, he doesn’t respond. “I just wanted to let you know because we’re not the bad guys in all of this.”

  “Okay,” I say, keeping with the calm tone.

  Wayne sighs. “You mentioned something about a kid with a mohawk?”

  “Yes?”

  “You might want to try the ferry. A lot of people come and go from the mainland and one of the ferry workers could’ve seen a kid with a mohawk.”

  Actually, that’s a good idea. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because I want all of this over with, too. You’re like a dang dog—”

  “With a bone?” I finish his sentence, kind of liking that analogy now.

  “Yeah.”

  Smiling, I click off on my phone, thinking about this private investigator thing. I think a good P. I. should have that dog/bone quality. I wonder if my grandparents did. I’ll have to ask Aunt Grace about that.

  Clover saunters in from wherever she’s been sleeping and leaning down, I give her a rub. “You just missed Rocco,” I tell her, and she does a whole body wiggle like she knows his name.

  I open the front door to let her out, and I straighten up quick when I see Vail coming up the steps.

  With a whimper, Clover takes off back through the house, and I don’t waste one single second as I grab my bag and thrust my hand down inside of it.

  Vail takes another step up, and his huge body blocks out what little light is left. “Why were you spreading rumors about me and Josie today?”

  My eyes momentarily touch on his cheek and the bruise I must have made when I hit him with that paperweight. “They’re not rumors if they’re true.”

  “You need to mind your own business.” Vail comes up the last step, and I yank my hand straight out of the messenger bag, point the pepper spray, and my mom’s words come barreling back to me. Remember where to hit a boy?

  I lower my aim and shoot him right in the groin. I know that’s not what Mom meant, but it’s what my brain does.

  A cloud of pepper spray fills the air, and he leaps back with a howl. Coughing, I slam and lock the door. Through the wood panels, I hear him choking and gasping and stumbling from the porch.

  I grab my phone. “I’m calling 911!” I yell.

  “No,” he whines. “Please don’t do that.”

  I grip the phone tight, trying to dial 911 but my shaky hand keeps pressing too many numbers. Okay, Penny-Ann, stop, think, breathe.

  What was I thinking running around the island, stirring up gossip? Whose idea was that anyway? Oh, right, mine. Well, it was an asinine idea. Yeah, I flushed Vail out. Flushed him right to my front door.

  Outside I hear a door slam shut and an engine roar to life. I hear tires over gravel and then the engine receding up the coastal highway.

  With a shudder and a huge breath out, I push away from the door and peek out the side window to see the porch clear and the yard, too.

  I don’t call 911, and I don’t call Aunt Grace because this really is my fault. I egged Vail on doing what I did today, and I’ll get in just as much trouble as he if I say anything.

  Outside a horn toots as Aunt Grace begins backing the Juice Truck into the carport. Throwing open the door, I race across the yard, and as soon as she steps free of her Thing, I fling myself into her arms, and I don’t let go.

  Laughing, she squeezes me back. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” I keep hugging her. “Just happy to see you.”

  That night, though, I sleep with everything lined up on my bedside table—the spray, the slingshot, my phone, the cuffs—and I have non-stop nightmares about Vail doing bad things to Clover.

  Chapter 29

  Early the next morning I jolt awake to the sound of my aunt screaming. I fly out of bed, rushing into the living room, and see my aunt standing on the front porch covered in—I crinkle my nose—poop. It stinks so bad even Clover backs up.

  “Penny-Ann!” She bellows.

  I cringe. “I’m right here.”

  Barefoot and dressed only in a sleep shirt, she turns around to glare at me. I don’t move as I take in the scene. Dog poop, or at least I think it’s dog poop, clumped in her blonde hair, smeared across her glasses, and glopped on the front of her striped sleep shirt.

  That is a lot of dog poop.

  She looks up, and I follow her line of sight to where a busted balloon hangs from a nail and attached to some sort of complicated fishing line maze that goes from our door to the porch rail and back across to the knob. Whoever did this rigged it to not only fall but to explode.

  I watch as the last remnant of poo drips from the balloon to plop inches from her foot. I don’t know what to say. She and I both know this was meant for me. I look back up at my aunt’s clenched face, and I immediately jump into action.

  Rushing into the laundry room, I grab towels and I lay them down between the front door and her bathroom. While she walks through our house to the shower, I run a bucket of soapy water.

  But as I clean, my mind isn’t on the fact someone rigged our porch with exploding poo, it’s focused on the fact that today is the last day. The burial ceremony is tomorrow, and for the first time all week, I am really starting to believe I’m not going to find the capsule, especially with things like this poo in the way.

  It takes me an hour and multiple rounds of cleaning to get the porch back to normal. Heck, it’s the cleanest I’ve ever seen it. After a shower of my own, I come into the kitchen to see Aunt Grace leaning against the counter drinking green tea.

  She doesn’t look like she’s cooled off at all.

  “Who did this?” She demands.

  Her harsh tone takes me off guard, and cautiously I answ
er, “I don’t know.”

  My first thought is Vail, but the fact is, I’m not sure he’s clever enough to pull something like this off. All I have to do is watch the footage from the camera Rocco installed and I’ll know.

  She points a finger at me. “No more. Do you hear me?”

  I’m not sure what exactly she’s talking about, but I suspect it’s me running around the island looking for the capsule. Because my/our lives were pretty boring up until a week ago when I started all of this.

  Now I’m carrying around a bag full of P. I. supplies. I threw a paperweight at Vail and gave him a bruise. I went into Rocco’s apartment and planted a listening device. I’ve received a prank call, a threatening letter, and a Clover look-alike gutted and left in my bike basket. I stole Rocco’s bike, been locked in a shed, knowingly spread rumors, peppered Vail, and now this.

  “You are to stay in this house today,” Aunt Grace says. “Do you hear me?”

  “But—”

  She raises her brows. “You really want to argue with me right now?”

  “No,” I whisper.

  Aunt Grace doesn’t say another word, and I stay standing in the kitchen as she heads back to her bedroom. She’s never grounded me before. For that matter, she’s never taken this tone with me either.

  I hear her footsteps as she leaves her bedroom, charges down the hall, the front door opens, and I brace myself for a slam, but she simply closes it without a goodbye. She’s really mad.

  Dragging myself over to the kitchen table, I slump down in a chair. For a few seconds, I stare at the wood grain of the tabletop, feeling all kinds of horrible. The last person I’d ever want mad at me is Aunt Grace. But what was I thinking, that I could sneak around and keep stuff from her and she wouldn’t find out?

  This is exactly what Mom probably did to her.

  With another sigh, I turn my phone over and swipe the screen. Maybe Rocco’s nanny cam caught something. I bring up the app and watch the footage, but it’s dark and grainy, and though I do see someone come onto our porch, it’s impossible to make the person out.

  Whatever. I don’t care. I really messed up, and Aunt Grace is mad. Really mad.