The Secret Files of Fairday Morrow

by Jessica Haight

  Fairday waved to her mother as she climbed down the steps and jogged over to the car. As she pictured a scornful Dif staring out the window, her grin widened even more. Hopping into the car, she saw her mother’s beaming face.

  “So, how was it today? Tell me everything!” her mother gushed, looking expectantly at Fairday.

  “It was a pretty great first day, Mom,” Fairday replied, tilting her head to the side and shrugging one shoulder, relieved it was actually over and she had survived.

  “Oh, honey, I knew it would be. Did you make any new friends?” her mother asked as the car started slowly up the winding drive.

  “Well, it’s hard to say right now, but most of the kids are okay. I sit near this boy, Marcus Brocket, and he seems interesting. Though I’m not entirely sure about him yet. No one here is like Lizzy,” she said. “But I guess there’s only one of her.”

  “You might be surprised and really click with someone here. You’ll still see Lizzy. We promised we’d plan a get-together for you girls at least once a month. Her parents both agreed to alternate whose weekend with her would be missed. That was very nice of them, especially because her father doesn’t get to see her very often.”

  “I guess,” Fairday replied, missing her friend. Changing the subject, she said, “Miss Mason seems really kind and treats everyone fairly.” She paused, thinking about the incident with Marcus and how her teacher had contemplated the situation for a moment before making a decision. Fairday decided to keep that part of the day to herself, but added, “She made science entertaining.” She also left out the part about Dif on the bus, but as far as she was concerned, she had won that small battle and felt pleased at her own cleverness. No matter what kind of a jerk this kid Dif might be, she had set him in his place by not reacting in a defensive way and giving him the upper hand.

  Fairday saw the words FEAR NOT THE UNEXPECTED as the car passed under them. She couldn’t help but agree, remembering how fearful she had been that morning. It turned out there had been nothing to worry about.

  “Your father’s going to be thrilled your first day was so successful. He’s cooking your favorite dinner tonight to celebrate. Get ready for some out-of-this-world chicken cordon bleu,” her mother announced, doing her best to sound like Mr. Morrow. Fairday’s mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was, and decided not to check the laptop to see if Lizzy had written back until after she’d eaten.

  Walking into the house, she dropped her backpack by the front door to find that the clattering, banging, and sloshing of paint buckets from earlier in the morning still hadn’t ceased. This is not going to be a fast process, Fairday thought, stepping over a ladder in the middle of the foyer and heading toward the kitchen.

  Margo was sitting in her high chair eating Cheerios while her father sat at the table next to her with his nose in a book. Auntie Em was drooling by their feet, ready to snatch up any fallen treats. The afternoon sun streamed into the room, cloaking Margo’s soft brown hair in a halo of light. Ha! thought Fairday, thinking how deceptively angelic her little sister could look. Margo was such a curious and sneaky child, always getting herself into all sorts of trouble. She wasn’t exactly an angel, but everyone agreed she sure was cute. Fairday gave her sister a quick peck on the head and grabbed a couple of her Cheerios.

  “Mine,” Margo gurgled, pointing at the stolen cereal. Mr. Morrow looked up from his book and motioned for Fairday to come closer.

  She hugged her father. “Thanks, Margo,” she said, smiling in the hopes of appeasing her baby sister so she wouldn’t explode into one of her famous tantrums.

  “Are you famished, my dear?” her father asked, raising his eyebrows to see if she understood the vocabulary word.

  “Yeah, I could go for a snack,” she answered, grinning back at him. He made his way to the refrigerator and took out some cheese and crackers. As her dad sliced the cheese, she played with Auntie Em and filled him in on her first day. However, the whole time, she wondered if she had the willpower to wait a couple of hours to check her email. At least the mountain of homework and her dad’s delectable dinner would keep her occupied for most of the evening.

  Wiping her wet hands, Fairday hung the dish towel over the handle of the old-fashioned stove. Looking at the stove, she never would’ve guessed it still worked. It was white, with two electric burners on each side and a burnt griddle between them. It had a foggy-looking clock, whose old hands were pointing at three o’clock, which was definitely not the correct time. Fairday figured her dad would probably have a field day trying to figure out how to reset the antique timepiece. Mrs. Morrow had let everyone know that since all the important appliances were still functioning, it would be a while before they updated the kitchen. Fairday looked forward to having a dishwasher so she would no longer have to include dishwashing on her list of chores. At least tonight, all the scrubbing and drying had been worth it. Dinner had been delicious, and waiting a little longer to check her email had given Fairday more hope that Lizzy’s response would be there.

  Fairday logged on to the computer. The connection was a bit slow, and she tapped her foot while she waited for her email to pop up. Finally, one new message displayed on the screen and she clicked it open.

  F—

  so happy to get your email. hope the day was great. missed you at school. mr. barkley gave a pop quiz in math today and everyone was freaking out. my mom said yes about this weekend. : ) thank goodness you only moved about an hour away. she’ll drive me up after school on friday. thought about what you found so far—v. mysterious. can’t wait to explore your new place. i may have a start b/c i put the name begonia into google images and i found 1 picture. it’s of a guy and a lady standing in front of a unique-looking house. pretty sure it’s your house. the picture has the caption “thurston begonia unveils magnificent new home after years of construction.” i attached it for you. i think there’s something behind the willow tree. i’ll work on enhancing the picture. we’ll have to go to the library to find out more about who used to live there. already have my dms pack ready to go. can’t wait to see you. gotta run—still have homework to do. ugh. ttyl

  —L

  Fairday drummed her fingers against her chin and bit her lip. Her heart was beating quickly as she reread the email. She clicked on the attachment and waited as the photo downloaded and came into focus. Wow, she thought as it popped up on the screen. She hadn’t expected to see the Begonia House looking so regal. In the image, the house was not crooked or crumbling. On the contrary, curtains hung neatly behind clean windows, and perfectly aligned shingles covered the rooftops. Flowering vines draped over the entryway, and the willow Fairday could see out her bedroom was in full leaf. The man in the picture had a broad smile on his face, his left arm wrapped around the shoulder of a pretty young woman. Fairday immediately knew this was not the red-haired lady in the photo and couldn’t help feeling somewhat deflated. The man was facing the camera; his other arm was extended back toward the house, and the woman was smiling up at him, her hair falling gracefully around her slim shoulders.

  It is a sweet picture, thought Fairday as she took note of the fluffy clouds floating above the pointed rooftop. Suddenly, she remembered Lizzy mentioning there was something behind the willow tree. She enlarged the image and scanned the right side of the picture. She couldn’t see very clearly, but there was definitely an odd shadow there. Maybe it was an animal or a large bush? Fairday couldn’t tell. It could be nothing. But as she squinted even harder and narrowed her gaze, a shiver ran down her spine. It looked like a face peering out, though it blended with the shadows around the trunk of the tree.

  She stared at the picture for quite some time, but it was impossible to tell for certain what it was. Weird, Fairday thought, leaning back in her chair. Was someone secretly spying on the happy couple? And did this picture have anything to do with the red-haired lady or the initials RB?

  The next day, Fairday was sitting at her desk, lost in
thought over the picture Lizzy had sent. She hadn’t even touched the bag of veggie crisps her mother had packed as a snack. Her classmates, on the other hand, were tearing open their packages like wild animals while chatting and trying to trade up for a better bite to eat. Fairday snapped back to reality when she heard Miss Mason’s voice calling her. Standing up, she crossed the room, hoping she wasn’t in any sort of trouble. Nearing the teacher’s desk, a welcoming smile greeted her, laying her fears to rest.

  “Hi, Fairday. How’s everything going so far? Any questions?” her teacher asked.

  “Um, things are good,” Fairday replied, flashing an honest smile. And they were, for the most part. Except for the incident on the bus, everything was rolling along pretty smoothly. Although she missed Lizzy and her old life, the first two days of school had been fine.

  “Well, that’s just wonderful!” Miss Mason replied. “I wanted to talk to you about a biography project the students have been working on for the past week. Your classmates have already selected someone from Ashpot they will be interviewing,” she explained. “I thought, since you’re new to town, I would help you get started. Would that be all right with you?”

  Fairday thought for a moment and decided this assignment had the potential to be interesting. “Sure, I’d like that,” she said.

  “Excellent!” Miss Mason said. Leaning in close to Fairday, she lowered her voice. “My grandfather has been an Ashpot resident for over sixty years, and he was a reporter for the local newspaper, the Ashpot Weekly. He’s retired now, but I spoke to him and he agreed to be asked a few questions.”

  “Thanks,” Fairday answered, getting even more excited about her luck. This person must know who used to live in her house after working as a reporter in such a small town for so long. Hadn’t her mom said the house had some mysterious local lore? The more Fairday thought about it, the more appealing this project seemed.

  “His name is Larry Lovell,” Miss Mason continued. “I have a packet prepared for you with the information you’ll need for the assignment.” She opened the folder and showed it to Fairday. “I wrote his number here.” She pointed to the top of the page, then closed the folder and handed it over.

  Fairday thanked Miss Mason and walked back to her seat. Slipping the folder into her desk, she was stunned at her luck! Lizzy was not going to believe that the DMS already had the perfect contact for their investigation of the Begonia House. Things were definitely looking up.

  Settling down for the remaining snack time, Fairday tore open her chips and popped one into her mouth. The chatter and munching in the room continued as she looked around the class. Marcus and Banner were talking with a group of kids. Fairday had come to learn a little about these two. Banner Parker was one of Marcus’s good friends and was undoubtedly the class clown. Marcus, however, was still a bit of a mystery. With his calm, cool demeanor, she couldn’t quite get a feel for him.

  Fairday hadn’t really spoken to Marcus since rescuing him from the dreaded check. He had tried to strike up a few conversations while helping her, but Fairday was reluctant. She was afraid of getting too chummy with him, feeling unsure about what kind of person he was. Part of her thought he might still be a candidate for the DMS, but she didn’t want a bully in the group, regardless of his accessibility to stellar spy equipment. Was he really going to fight Dif? She looked away from him. Just a couple of hours until two o’clock and then all would be revealed.

  Fairday noticed Dif and his friends on the other side of the classroom. Her initial feelings about him had been correct. Brian Diffren was not a nice boy. In fact, it seemed the only people who did like him were just as unpleasant as he was. This morning she had sat next to one of his cronies in library class: Sadie Moore, a mean girl who mocked everyone around her. Most of the kids in fifth grade chose to keep up appearances with Sadie, trying not to attract her attention. This girl could be downright cruel when she found an easy target. Fairday wasn’t the least bit impressed by someone who made fun of other people because they were different. After all, how boring would life be if everybody were the same?

  Sure enough, Sadie had eventually attempted an attack on the new girl, and Fairday had accepted the call to action. Fairday never let anyone get the better of her.

  “Psst, Fairday,” Sadie hissed as she passed a folded note to her under the table during library. Fairday opened it and read:

  We all think you’re a loser—maybe you can make friends with the cockroaches in your house, since it’s so gross!

  Fairday crumpled up the note, stood, and walked over to the trash before dropping it in. Moving back into her seat, she lightly touched Sadie’s shoulder and leaned in close to whisper, “Thanks for the update, Sadie. I’ll keep your advice in mind. By the way, you have something long and green hanging out of your nose. You should probably go and blow it.”

  That was all it took. Sadie’s face turned beet-red. She hurried over to the sign-out sheet for the bathroom and grabbed the pass off the wall, covering her nose with her sleeve. Fairday sat in her seat, unmoved by the failed plot to hurt her, and continued working. A girl sitting across the table was watching, a look of incredulity on her face. Fairday had noticed Sadie harassing this girl and hoped she had inspired her to stand up for herself in the future. Fairday knew that most of the time, mean kids were just insecure, and if you didn’t let them get to you, they usually left you alone. Bullies were only triumphant when they made other people feel smaller than they themselves felt.

  Dif’s other cohort was Bart Monahan, and he was almost as big a jerk as Dif. Bart had the same obnoxious air about him but lacked Dif’s severity. Rather, he was clumsy, with messy black hair and thick, bushy eyebrows. He followed Dif around like a lost puppy. He could usually be heard saying things like “Real cool, dorkwad” or “What an L-O-S-E-R,” spelling it out and holding his thumb and forefinger up to his forehead in an L shape. At least he could spell, thought Fairday.

  Dif, Bart, and Sadie were now all huddled in a corner of the room, glaring at Marcus and his friends. Marcus was laughing, not paying them any mind.

  “You’re gonna kill Dif today,” Banner said.

  Marcus gave him two thumbs up and said, “Hey, they don’t call me Brocket the Rocket for nothing!” Everyone at the table cheered and patted him on the back.

  Fairday lowered her gaze from the scene. She didn’t like violence, and the thought of witnessing a fight was unsettling. She was beginning to wonder if her first impression of this school had been a bit off. The one thing she couldn’t figure out was the nickname. What did rockets have to do with fistfighting? Maybe he had a really powerful right hook or something?

  The buzz of voices began to quiet as Miss Mason took her place at the front of the class. Glancing again at Dif, Fairday saw him sitting straight up at his desk, chin jutting forward as he stared at Marcus. Marcus held Dif’s stare and nodded. Fairday let out a sigh of relief when Miss Mason asked everyone to take out their math materials. At least adding fractions would keep her mind off the upcoming event.

  As the students of room 208 walked down the hall, you could feel the anticipation in the air. A suppressed energy was just below the surface, but Fairday felt like she could actually touch it. An aide held open the door of the school and the class began running out to the field. Fairday walked toward the playground amid the frenzy of activity. Dif strode past and bumped into her, causing Fairday to stumble. He glowered back with an ugly sneer. “Any ghosts yet, Freakday?”

  Not missing a beat, she replied, “Whatever,” and waved him off. Fairday continued walking through the throng of children. Marcus pushed past her, following right behind Dif. He slowed for a moment and turned to her. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes in exasperation at Dif’s comment. Marcus picked up his pace and hurried off toward the field. Fairday just didn’t get it; Marcus seemed so nice. Didn’t he understand that fighting proved nothing?

  Fairday was astounded by what was happening around her. Everyone was pushing and shoving,
lining up on the sidelines, all getting ready to watch Marcus kill Dif. It seemed so medieval. She vowed to herself that she wouldn’t watch. Lizzy would never go for this sort of thing. Hanging back from the other kids, Fairday stood away from all the action. Even though she wanted to fit in at this new school, she couldn’t bring herself to be somebody she wasn’t.

  The crowd was going wild. A chubby boy with red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose was pumping his fists in the air chanting, “Rock-et! Rock-et!” Next to him stood Olivia, her blond hair shimmering in the afternoon sun. She was clapping her hands and turning her head occasionally to whisper and giggle with a group of girls standing around her.

  Within moments, a voice yelled, “Ready…set…go!” The scene exploded. Kids were screaming and yelling; the sound was deafening. “Go, Brocket! You’re wasting him!” echoed through the air, followed by “Brocket the Rocket!” and “He’s on fire!” Fairday looked over at the two aides, expecting to see them run over to stop the boys from killing each other. Amazingly, they, too, were enthralled with what was happening. Both women were pointing to the field.

  Fairday looked back at the commotion and couldn’t believe her eyes. Marcus Brocket was a green blur flying down the field, arms pumping up and down, his long strides making him look like an Olympic runner. This wasn’t a fight; it was a race! Behind him, Dif was panting, his face pink with exertion as he tried with all his might to catch up. Marcus was beating the pants off Dif, and Fairday couldn’t have felt happier about it. All of her anxiety disappeared, and she found herself caught up in the action. She hurried over to the side of the field and joined the bustling crowd just as Marcus crossed the finish line. Her classmates were all cheering, jumping up and down excitedly, and exclaiming, “Whoo-hoo! Rocket rules!”

  Marcus jogged over to his friends with an ear-to-ear grin on his face as Dif slunk off to the side. Suddenly, it clicked. The nickname Brocket the Rocket didn’t have to do with being a bully at all; it had to do with speed, being fast, like a rocket blasting off. She looked up at Marcus, pleased that her first impression about him had been right, and she was intrigued at the prospect of a new friend who could peacefully put a bully in his place. “Way to go,” Fairday said, catching Marcus’s eye as he wiped the sweat off his face. She smiled at him and he winked back, sporting a gleaming winner’s grin.