by Casey Lyall
“Gen-tle! And, so? What’d you name your car? Oh, right, you don’t have any wheels, and I’m doing you a favor right now by driving you.”
“It’s not a favor if it’s for your own case, and I have Blue, thank you very much. She’s just hibernating.”
“Smart cookie.” Marvin sat back in his seat. “Where are we headed again?”
“Marv, I told you a thousand times: Stoverton.”
“Pah,” Marvin spat out the window. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind. Put your seatbelt on tight; we’re going to make this a quick trip.”
Metal screeched as the door was yanked back open. “Leaving without me?” Leyla leaned down to glare at us, hands on her hips. She shoved my seat forward, squishing me against the dash, and scrambled into the backseat.
Marvin nodded back at her. “Friend of yours?”
“No.” Leyla tucked a spike of blue hair behind her ear and held me in a steady gaze. I gulped back the rest of my protests. “But she can stay. We’re short a pair of eyes anyway.” Maybe three extra pairs could make up for one.
Everyone did a quick inventory of the car. “Where’s Ivy?” Carl asked.
Excellent question. “Drama Club meeting,” I said. “Can we get this show on the road?”
“You betcha.” The engine revved as Marvin cackled.
Carl clicked his seatbelt into place and met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “You ever driven with Uncle Marv before?”
“No.”
A smirk answered my unasked question, and I was pulled back in my seat as we rocketed out onto the street. “Stoverton or bust,” Marv hollered.
We jerked into the Stoverton Middle School parking lot and Marv Jr. spluttered to a stop. Marvin gave our surroundings a sour look. “Everybody out—this place is already giving me a rash.”
“Gimme a sec,” I said. Marvin’s warp-speed taxi service had all of my internal organs hanging onto my spine for dear life. The man took shortcuts I wasn’t sure were even technically roads.
“No puking in the car.” Marvin reached across me to open the door. “Walk it off, Howard.”
Carl, Leyla, Miles, and I stumbled out onto the pavement. The lot was mostly deserted. Hopefully the team was still busy with their practice and we could be in and out before anyone noticed we were there.
We slipped in through the front door, and I motioned for everyone to stay back. Miles sidled up to me. “The office is right there,” he whispered. “There’s a window that looks out into the hall. If anyone’s in there, they’ll see us right away.”
Poking my head around the corner, I spotted the receptionist sitting at her desk, packing up for the day. The large window left barely enough room for us to sneak by. I ducked back to where the rest of them were still hugging the wall.
“Miles is right,” I said.
He flung a hand out. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Stay low,” I whispered, shooting a look at Miles. “And stay quiet.”
The four of us crouched down, and we squat-walked past the office and the sign that said “all visitors must check in at the desk.” Safely in the next hallway, we straightened up and looked around. “Where to now?” Leyla asked.
Miles and Carl looked at each other.
“Left?” Miles guessed.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” I palmed my face.
Carl cocked his head to the right. “This way,” he said, and jogged down the hall. The sound of bouncing basketballs grew louder as we followed him. He stopped in front of a set of closed doors that were shaking with the thumps and pounding of feet within. “Gym.”
Apparently it was a good thing Carl came along. The verdict was still up in the air on the other two. “Okay, if this is the gym,” I said. “The locker rooms should be close by. Let’s follow our noses now.”
Two doors down, we found the one marked boys’ locker room. “Leyla, you keep watch,” I said.
“No, no,” she said, backing up down the hall. “You boys have fun. I’m in a divide-and-conquer kind of mood.”
That wasn’t part of my plan. This was the problem with letting other people in on a job. They got loosey-goosey with the plans. “Where are you going?”
“To do what I do best,” Leyla said. “Snoop.” She flashed a grin and disappeared around the corner.
“I do not feel good about this,” I said to the guys.
“She gets caught, she gets caught,” Carl said. “We’re wasting time.”
I pushed open the door and stepped inside. We each took a corner and started poking around. “What exactly are we looking for?” Miles called out.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll know it when we see it.”
He shook his head. “People pay you to do this?”
“Not lately,” I said, eyeballing Carl who shrugged with a small smile.
“What are you doing in here?”
We whipped around to see a Stoverton Stallions player in the doorway. So much for the luck part of the equation.
“Co-op students,” I said. “Custodial co-op students. What are you doing in here?”
“Coach sent me for an ice pack,” he said, pointing to the office in the back corner of the room. “Practice got a little rough.”
“Basketball to the face?” I nodded sagely. “Been there, bro.”
Carl smothered a sigh.
“That what happen to your face?” the player motioned at his eye. “Bro?”
“Hate the players, love the game,” I said as Miles choked.
A smile crept across the Stallions player’s face as he checked us out. “You guys are from Grantleyville. I’ve seen you on the team. And you’re Howard Wallace, aren’t you?” He pointed at me. “Bathrobe’s a dead giveaway. Oscar told me you’d be coming by.”
The pieces clicked. “And you’re Jake,” I said. “I take it Oscar filled you in?” So much for school loyalty.
“He did,” Jake said, leaning up against a locker. “Rough go for you guys. If it helps, I’ve already questioned the team.”
Unexpected. “Why would you do that?”
“Stealing another school’s mascot? That’s not how we operate. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. I want us to win fair and square,” he said, “not because we sabotaged the other side.”
Rule number seven: never underestimate your opponent. I’d be playing good guy too, if I was in Jake’s spot. “And you expect us to believe you?”
“Oscar told you about Chad? The one who was going to pull a prank before the game?”
“Yes,” I said.
“He confessed to scoping out your school to make a plan,” Jake said. “But he saw your team practicing.”
“And?”
“He said pulling a prank felt mean. We’re not going to need it to win.”
“Oh,” I said, filling in the blanks.
“Rude.” Miles flopped down on a bench.
“But accurate,” Carl said as he joined him.
“Want to hear my theory?” Jake grinned.
“I take it you’re gonna tell us.”
“Someone from your own team stole it so you’d have something to blame it on when you lose on Saturday. From what I hear, our victory’s pretty much guaranteed.”
Carl growled softly beside me.
“Facts are facts,” Jake said. “When half of your team hates the other half, there’s no way you’re ever going to pull together to win—not when you’re battling each other.”
“Jake, how long does it take to find an ice pack?” A voice called through the door.
“That’s my coach. You guys had better go,” Jake said, grabbing a pack out of the cooler and jogging back toward the door. “You’ve got enough problems without getting caught here.”
He left, and we finished taking a quick look around. There was nothing to find. The locker room was as clean as a locker room could be. I hated to admit it, but Jake may have been on to something. Time to take a closer look at the Grantleyville Gladiators.
&nbs
p; Carl, Miles, and I snuck back out into the hallway.
“Well, that was a bust,” Miles said, and I shushed him as we crept past the gym.
“Let’s save the recap for the car, okay?”
“Shouldn’t we at least check some closets or something?” He gestured around the hallway. “See if they have a kennel out back?”
I pressed a hand over his mouth. “Our only goal right now is to get out of here without getting caught. I think we’ve pressed our luck as it is.”
“You’re not wrong,” Carl said, cocking his head toward the gym doors. The hum of the team chattering was starting to get louder. “Time to go.” Carl propelled us down the hall just as the doors opened and the team spilled out of the gym.
“Aren’t those Grantleyville kids?”
We didn’t pause to hear the answer.
“Go, go, go,” I chanted, willing my legs to move faster. Turning the corner, I spotted Leyla taking pictures of a trophy case.
“What’s happening?” She took a moment to snap another picture of our frenzied race.
“Running,” I said as I grabbed her arm and hauled her along with us. We booked it out of the school, bursting out onto the lawn. “Marvin,” I hollered, “start the car!”
The car responded with horrible noises that I could only hope led to ignition of some sort. It roared to life as we hit the sidewalk and threw ourselves onto the seats. Somehow, Leyla finagled a spot in the front.
Marvin hit the gas, and we sped out of the parking lot, safely on the way back to Grantleyville—at least as safe as anyone riding in a tin can could be.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, laughing a bit as we came down off the adrenaline rush.
“That was amazing,” Miles said. “That was so awesome.” He held up his hands for high fives which I refused to dignify. Carl rolled his eyes, but indulged him in the gesture. “Yeah.” Miles reached a hand into the front seat causing Marvin to curl a lip.
“Put your hand down, son.”
I pushed Miles back and leaned forward to peer at Leyla. “How’d it go on your end? Find anything?”
“Not sure yet,” Leyla said, pursing her lips. “Got a thread to tug. How about you guys?”
“We ruled out some possibilities.”
Leyla leveled a look at the backseat. “So . . . nothing?”
“I mean, we might not have Spartacus, but we found out some stuff,” Miles said. “And ran for our lives, which was cool.”
“Calm down,” I said. “Nobody was running for their lives. We wouldn’t have had to run at all if you’d listened and left when I said we should go.”
“Ah, it all worked out fine.”
“Not the point.” I twisted around to glare at him. “The rule was that I was in charge. You agreed to that and didn’t follow through.”
“Howard, chill,” Miles said. “Lesson learned for next time.”
This is what I got for working with amateurs. I didn’t want there to be a next time.
I needed my partner back.
Chapter Fifteen
Marvin offered to take me home, but I had one more stop on my list. He dropped me off in front of Ivy’s place.
“See you tomorrow,” Miles called out, and I slammed the door to cut him off.
“Door!” Marvin shouted.
“Sorry, Marv.” I waved as he peeled away from the curb. Then I paced the sidewalk for a few minutes, debating what to say to Ivy. Deep in the pit of my stomach sparked a small seed of doubt. What she did on her own time wasn’t really any of my business.
But lying about it?
If we were partners, there was no room for lies between us. That was part of the deal. Squaring my shoulders, I marched up to her front door and knocked on the wood.
No answer.
I took another crack at the door, and it swung inward. Ivy stood there, wild-haired and red-faced, in head-to-toe flannel. “You trying to break the door down?” She leaned an elbow on the doorframe, leveling a look at me.
I stepped through the door and scraped my boots on the mat. “How was Drama Club?”
“Fine,” she said. “How was—don’t-you-dare-spit-when-I-say-it—Stoverton?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a dead end, but it didn’t crack the case either.” I unzipped my coat and let my bag fall to the floor. Ivy’s house was roasting. “We met Jake, the other captain.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Me, Carl, Leyla, and Miles,” I said. “Well, Leyla didn’t meet him. She was off doing—I have no idea what.”
“Tight crew you’re running there.”
“I did the best I could under partnerless circumstances. What’d you do in Drama Club today?”
“Why’d you let Miles go with you to Stoverton?”
This game could go on forever, and after today I wasn’t in the mood for running in circles—or for any kind of running, for that matter.
“Miles came along because he was familiar with the school, he wanted to help, and he was actually there to do so.” I ticked off my answers on one hand.
“So, Miles comes back around and you’re suddenly falling all over yourself to include him? What happened to ‘he is evil and we do not speak his name’?”
“It’s just for the case, Ivy.” I ground out the words. “Tell me about Drama Club.”
“Why the sudden interest?” She played with the ends of her hair, separating the curls. “I’ve been going for months, and you usually pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“I saw you leave.” It came out in a blurt.
The clock by the door ticked off the seconds it took for Ivy to process that. “You followed me?”
“No,” I said. “I was looking for you where you were supposed to be and found you bailing instead.”
“I didn’t feel well, okay?” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I thought you’d already left. I wouldn’t have been any help anyway, so I went home. End of story.”
Except it wasn’t. The scene with Mrs. Pamuk played through my brain, twisting over until it fit with a click that didn’t sit well at all. One that involved the worst kind of betrayal.
“What was in the envelope?”
“What envel—are you serious, right now?” Ivy flopped down onto the coatrack bench. “Howard, please stop.”
“Did you take on a case without me?” The question was out before I realized I’d been thinking it. Ivy looked up and hit me with a dead-eyed stare. She grabbed her backpack up off the floor and fished through it. Wordlessly, she handed me a white envelope.
I held on, not quite ready to open it.
“Go ahead,” Ivy said. “Read away.”
Pulling back the flap, I tugged the paper out of the envelope. My cheeks flamed as I skimmed the words. “A permission slip,” I said, “to be in the spring musical.”
“Yup.” Ivy held open her bag, flashing papers and another crumpled envelope at me. “I’ve got more good stuff in here. You want to keep going?”
“No,” I said. “You can be in the play, you know. You didn’t have to hide this.”
“First of all,” Ivy said, standing up and waving a finger in the air, “I wasn’t hiding it. Second of all—no, wait. Make this one first of all. First of all, again, I don’t need your permission to do anything.”
“You’re right.” I handed the paper and envelope back to her. “And I’m sorry.”
“I’m not Miles, okay?” Ivy stuffed everything back in her bag and chucked it on the floor. “I’m not going to get weird and abandon you. Dial down the paranoia.”
“This stupid case is getting to me,” I said, sinking down to the floor.
“I think hanging out with Miles is getting to you,” Ivy said as she joined me and leaned back against the wall.
“It was actually not one hundred percent horrible working with him today,” I said. “It was like falling back into an old habit.”
“Which makes you mad because you’re mad at him, so now you’re double-mad.”
/> I looked at my partner as I unpacked that statement. “Yeah,” I said. “Exactly. Part of me wants to let it all go—”
“But you don’t trust him,” Ivy finished for me.
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Well, Howard, here’s what I think . . .” she began.
Cupping my hands around my head, I leaned in.
“What are you doing?” Ivy frowned.
“Got my listening ears on.”
She batted my hands away. “I’ve got my serious face on, so stop being a goof.” Ivy poked a finger at my chest. “I think if someone hurt you, then the only person who can decide if they should be allowed back into your life is you.”
I mulled that over. “You are very wise, partner of mine.”
“Yes, I am.” Ivy laughed thickly and rubbed at her nose. She actually didn’t look all the great. I reached into my pocket to offer her a piece of Juicy. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, waving away the gum. “Having an off day.”
The front door opened, and Ivy’s grandma stepped in. She stopped short at the sight of us hanging out on the floor of the entryway. “Hello, Howard,” she said. “Are you staying for dinner?”
I caught the look that crossed between Ivy and her grandma. Let it never be said that I couldn’t read a room. “No, thanks, Lillian,” I said. “I’ve got to get home. See you tomorrow morning, Ivy?”
She nodded. “Bright and early.”
Bundling back up, I let myself out and started down the street. Part of me was glad to have sorted things out with Ivy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my partner still wasn’t telling me everything.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday morning, I stood on the corner waiting. Again. Luckily, irritation at my absent partner kept me warm from the inside out. “What the heck, Ivy,” I muttered. “Where are you?”
“Howard!”
I turned and spotted Miles half a block back. He waved as he ran over, reaching me before I’d finished debating whether or not to wave back.
“Hey,” he said. “I was hoping I’d catch you here.”
“Why?”
“To work on the case?”
The case that I was supposed to be working with my partner. Perhaps it was time to revisit the punctuality portion of Ivy’s training.
