The Secret Talent

by Jo Whittemore

  I went inside and sat at my usual desk while across the room, Felix and Mary Patrick argued about the front page.

  “Everyone’s talking about the viral video issue,” he said. “I have to follow it with something just as big. Don’t you want more attention?”

  “Of course I do!” said Mary Patrick. “I just don’t think a piece on teen celebrities is the way to go. We’re not some gossip magazine.”

  I shook my head and answered a gift request for someone’s mom, flipping open a magazine. With my eyes closed, I waved my finger around and pressed it on one of the pages.

  “Oh good. You’re putting thought into these gifts,” Heather’s voice sounded beside me.

  I opened my eyes and glanced at the page. My finger had landed on a pair of diamond earrings.

  “Come on, you have to admit that’s a good gift.” I grinned up at her.

  She wrinkled her forehead. “You’re not . . . answering all the gift requests like this, are you?”

  I shook my head. “Not all. Just the ones that I’ve done.”

  Heather squinted at me. “Very funny. These kids genuinely want our help, you know.”

  “Which is why I’m randomly picking stuff in each price range,” I said. “If you’re looking for Brooke and V, by the way, they’re in the student lounge.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I saw Ryan Durstwich in there and . . . Man, he’s even more obnoxious when he’s cute.”

  I laughed. “You think?”

  She nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, he looks good and I’m glad he’s got some decent manners now, but he really thinks he’s all that.” Her eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that was really mean. I know you’re friends.”

  I snorted. “Me and Ryan? We’re not friends.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head to one side. “But you spend so much time together.”

  First Abel noticed, now her? Was it really that obvious?

  “We’re working on a project. That’s all,” I said.

  Heather smiled. “Well, thank goodness. Maybe you can try to set him straight,” she said.

  “Actually, I prefer to stay as far from him as possible,” I said. “Can’t have him picking up all my moves.”

  Heather laughed. “I know we tease you a lot, but you would be a great role model for him.”

  I stiffened but gave her a tight smile. “Nah,” I said. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

  “He needs someone like you around.”

  I shook my head and forced a laugh. “I don’t . . .”

  “Tim”—Heather put a hand on my arm—“don’t be so modest. You can be a positive influence on Ryan, and it’s good that he—”

  “Ryan’s blackmailing me with that dancing video,” I said.

  She might as well know. She was bound to find out from Vanessa or, pretty soon, Brooke.

  Heather’s grip tightened on my arm. “What?”

  I shifted closer to her. “Look, don’t say anything to anyone, okay? I’m handling it.”

  The concern didn’t leave her eyes. “How has he been blackmailing you? Did you tell Mrs. H? The principal? Your parents?”

  I held up a hand to stop her. “He’s just been having me do a couple little tasks for him, nothing big”—I grabbed her arm as she started to move past me—“so just relax.”

  “He’s been making you his servant?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s terrible! Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

  “Because this is my problem to deal with, not yours,” I said. “Like I said, I’m handling it. Or at least . . . I will be this weekend.”

  “What’s happening this weekend?” she asked.

  I explained Abel’s idea, and she frowned. “That doesn’t seem like the right way to deal with this. You should really let some adults know.”

  I shook my head. “All they’ll do is scold Ryan. I need a way to stop him once and for all.”

  At the determined look on my face, Heather nodded. “Okay. How can I help?”

  I gave her a grateful smile. “Right now, I think I’m good. If we get too many people involved, then Ryan’s going to know I’m up to something.”

  Heather squeezed my arm. “If you do need anything, even just someone to talk to, you know I’m here.”

  The first bell rang, and we headed to our lockers. I joined the students rushing to class and dropped into my homeroom desk just as the bell rang. The teacher did a quick head count and then settled into her chair with a magazine.

  “Get started on any last-minute homework,” she told us, and the room fell quiet.

  I was about to reach for one of Ryan’s assignments when I thought better of it and propped my binder up on my desk. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I ducked behind the binder and texted Brooke.

  I need your help with something this weekend.

  There was no response for a minute or so and then, Sure. What’s up?

  Can you keep a secret? I texted back.

  I haven’t told anyone you’re a spirited dancer yet, have I? she responded.

  “Fair point,” I muttered to myself, then texted, Ryan released the dance video, and he’s blackmailing me into doing favors for him.

  Two sets of classroom walls couldn’t contain Brooke’s voice.

  “What?!” was her muffled cry.

  Everyone in my homeroom looked up and glanced in the direction of the sound. The homeroom teacher frowned but went back to reading her magazine.

  Congratulations, I texted Brooke. Yours is the voice heard round the world.

  I will rip that kid to pieces! I will punch him through to the other side of the Earth!

  Instantly, I was typing. No! You will do NOTHING to let him know you’re on to him. Abel and I already have a plan to get me out of this mess.

  You told Abel before you told me??? she texted back.

  He figured it out on his own.

  Brooke’s response was hearts and smiley faces, along with the words I have the smartest boyfriend in the world!

  I rolled my eyes and typed, We’ll talk more at lunch.

  But first we had to talk more about how great Ryan looked. At least . . . Vanessa did. When the four of us sat down to eat, she was grinning and gushing about all the compliments she’d gotten for Ryan’s makeover.

  “People say it’s a huge improvement,” she informed us.

  “Sure.” Brooke twisted spaghetti around her fork. “Fifty-five percent more evil.”

  “And that he really seems different.”

  “Different isn’t always better,” admonished Heather, opening her milk.

  Vanessa hesitated for a moment but kept going. “And that he looks so cute.”

  “So do baby snakes,” I said, taking a bite of my apple.

  She sighed. “Awww, come on, guys. I know he was blackmailing Tim before, but he’s changed! He promised when I was doing his makeover.”

  I reached into my pocket and tossed the new task list on her tray. “You’re right. He’s changed. His handwriting’s a little better.”

  Vanessa opened the paper and read it over with a frown. “That lying . . .” She slammed it down on the table. “But he pinkie swore!”

  “And we all know how binding those can be.” Brooke patted Vanessa on the back. “But luckily, Tim’s finally going to take care of this.” She looked at me. “What do you and Abel have planned?”

  “I need to get some dirt on Ryan,” I said. “Something juicy enough that he’ll be too scared of people finding out to want to expose me anymore. I need you and Vanessa to help.” I glanced at V, who nodded.

  Brooke scooted closer. “How?”

  “Ryan can’t know I’m up to something, so Vanessa will do more makeover work with him, and you’ll be there to help with his social skills. Then you’ll conveniently disappear for a bit.”

  Brooke’s eyes shone with excitement. “You want me to search for evidence.”

  “And I get to help w
ith the distraction!” Vanessa clapped. “This is gonna be fun!”

  “What’s Heather gonna do?” asked Brooke.

  “Nothing,” Heather said with a sigh.

  “It’ll look suspicious if you’re all there,” I said, patting her arm.

  V shook her head. “Not if Ryan doesn’t see her. Brooke’s going to need a lookout, right?”

  “I could warn her if Ryan heads her way!” agreed Heather, straightening up.

  “Already thought of that.” I tapped my skull. “We’re going to use the code phrase ‘How about those Cubs?’”

  “Yeah, because that won’t seem suspicious after the first time,” scoffed Brooke. “Plus, the Cubs are terrible this year.”

  She had a point.

  I glanced at Heather. “You really want to help out?”

  She nodded. “You’re always there for me. I want to be there for you.”

  I rubbed my head and sighed. “Fine. But only Brooke goes searching, and none of you get noticed.”

  Heather and V high-fived, and Brooke placed a notepad in front of me.

  “First things first, we need to case the joint.” She tapped the page. “Draw me a map of the rooms on each floor so I can get around quicker.”

  “Uh . . . I don’t know all of them,” I said, “but I’ll do the best I can.” I started putting together a crude drawing.

  Brooke nodded. “Now, when are you planning to be there tomorrow?”

  I thought for a moment. “Maybe one?”

  She punched something into her phone. “Done. We’ll take Ryan someplace in his house where there isn’t bound to be anything to blackmail him with. Say . . . the kitchen.”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  She looked up at Heather. “You’ll be watching through the windows.” She paused and looked at me. “I’m assuming there’s at least one window in the kitchen?”

  “Yep.” I made sure to mark it on my drawing.

  Brooke continued. “When I leave to start searching, if Heather sees Ryan make a move toward a door, she’ll text me.”

  I passed the sketch to Brooke. “Here you go. I hope you can find something.”

  “Please,” said Brooke. “I’m a detective in training.” She narrowed her eyes and squared her jaw. “I’ll find more dirt on Ryan than there are lice in his hair.”

  “Oh, Ryan doesn’t have lice,” said Vanessa. “I checked before I gave him a haircut.”

  Brooke made an exasperated sound. “V! I was having a dramatic moment.”

  “Sorry!”

  I rolled my eyes at both of them. “See if you can come up with more than one secret,” I told Brooke. “I’d like to have options.”

  “Oh, I’ll steal his secrets.” She nodded and narrowed her eyes again. “And then . . . we’ll end this.”

  CHAPTER

  9

  Soccer Ninja

  It wasn’t the new and improved Ryan who answered his front door the next morning. It was the crumb-covered, greasy-haired original, complete with scowl. But as soon as he saw that Vanessa was with me, he brushed off his shirt and did his best to spike his hair.

  It wasn’t enough.

  “What did you do to all my hard work?” cried Vanessa.

  “I—I . . . My aunt doesn’t like the new me,” he stammered, backing away. At the look on V’s face, I would’ve been terrified too. “She saw the clothes and the hair and figured I was up to something.”

  “Well, you are,” I said, entering the house. “You’re trying to convince people you aren’t some slimy jerk.”

  “It looks like I got here just in time,” Vanessa added, following me in with a tote bag slung over one shoulder. She pulled out an empty spray bottle and held it up. “Do you have a bathroom where I can fill this?”

  Ryan pointed down the hall, and as soon as V walked away, he whirled around to face me.

  “What is she doing here?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

  “This is a dress rehearsal for Berkeley’s get-together,” I said. “You said you weren’t sure what to wear.”

  The anger in Ryan’s eyes dissolved. “Oh. Well, you could’ve at least warned me!”

  “I could have, but I thought it’d be more fun this way,” I said.

  Ryan shot me a look and moved to close the front door just as Brooke hurried onto the porch.

  “Hold up!” she called.

  “What—?” Ryan looked at me, and I grinned.

  “Definitely more fun.”

  “Hey, mouth breather,” Brooke greeted him, pushing her way into the house.

  Ryan ignored her and continued to glare at me. “Why is she here?”

  “I figured if you can talk to Brooke without any lamps or bones breaking, you can talk to anyone.”

  “Believe me, I’m not looking forward to this either,” grumbled Brooke.

  Earlier that morning she’d texted me, It’s Heist Day! Yaaay!

  Vanessa reappeared with a full spray bottle and frowned at Ryan. “You’re still wearing that?”

  “No,” he grumbled. “I’ll change into my good outfit.”

  “If I were you, I’d be more upset that I only have one good outfit,” I called after him as he headed upstairs.

  “Ryan, do you need help?” added Vanessa.

  “No! Just stay right there!” he shouted back.

  As soon as I heard him walking above us, I said, “Okay, while he’s gone we should—”

  I turned toward my friends, but they were already in motion.

  Brooke had opened one of the entertainment center doors and was skimming the DVDs and video game titles. Vanessa was inspecting the bookshelves.

  “Nothing embarrassing here,” whispered Brooke, closing the entertainment center.

  “Dead zone,” added V. “So are the downstairs bathroom and dining room.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  She brandished her squirt bottle and smiled. “I got lost on my way back.”

  “Smart!” I said.

  “Shh. I think he’s coming,” whispered Brooke, jerking her head toward the staircase.

  We all did our best to act casual as Ryan reappeared.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” he said, tucking in his shirt. He started to take a seat on the couch, but I cleared my throat.

  “Don’t you think you should offer your guests something to drink?” I asked, gesturing to Vanessa and Brooke.

  “Oh. Right,” said Ryan. He turned to the girls. “Vanessa, would you like some soda? Brooke, a glass of poison?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I wagged a finger. “Would you say that to anyone at Berkeley’s party?”

  Ryan sighed and spoke through clenched teeth. “Brooke, would you like some soda too?”

  She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “What kind?”

  “The kind with bubbles in it,” he said.

  I cleared my throat again, and Ryan took a deep breath.

  “We have root beer, cola, and diet cola.”

  “Do you have any juice?” asked Brooke.

  Ryan forced a smile. “Yes. Would you like some juice?”

  “What kind?” she asked.

  He turned to me with an exasperated look. “Nobody at Berkeley’s party is going to be this much of a pain.”

  “Just answer her question,” I said.

  Ryan groaned and turned back to Brooke. “We have apple juice and orange juice.”

  She nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll take some orange juice, please.”

  “And I’ll take some root beer,” said Vanessa.

  “Be right back,” said Ryan, heading toward the kitchen.

  We all followed right behind, and he glanced over his shoulder in confusion.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” he said.

  “I want to watch you walk,” said Vanessa. “No look is complete without a good walk.”

  “I want to watch you pour my drink,” said Brooke. “In case you really do put poison in it.”

  Ryan raised an e
yebrow at me. “And what’s your excuse?”

  “I want to watch you interact with other people.”

  He muttered to himself and reached for the refrigerator door. Which happened to be by the kitchen window where Heather’s head appeared.

  “No!” Brooke cried, almost making Ryan drop a bottle of juice.

  Heather quickly disappeared from sight.

  “‘No’ what?” asked Ryan, his scowl returning.

  “I changed my mind about the orange juice,” she said. “Could I get apple juice instead?”

  Ryan’s lips pressed together, but he nodded and reached back into the refrigerator.

  The top of Heather’s ski cap appeared in the window as she tried to sneak another peek. I tapped my fingers on the glass.

  Ryan popped his head out. “What was that?”

  “Huh?” I glanced all around.

  “What was what?” asked Brooke.

  He closed the refrigerator door and glanced at the window. “I thought I heard something tap against the glass.”

  “It was a goose,” said V.

  I wanted to smack my hand to my forehead.

  “A goose?” Ryan pushed past us to look out the window. If he happened to glance down, he’d spot one weird-looking bird.

  “Up there!” I lifted his chin. “It took off already.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Must’ve lost its flock.”

  He turned back to the cupboard to grab some glasses and started pouring us each a drink.

  As soon as the juice was in Brooke’s glass, she grabbed it and downed it in one long continuous gulp, pushing the empty glass back to Ryan.

  “Can I have another?” she asked.

  “What are you, a camel?” Ryan shot back. This time, Vanessa nudged him. “I mean . . . sure.”

  He poured her another glass, and she chugged that one too.

  “Gotta pee!” she announced when she set the glass down.

  “I wonder why,” said Ryan.

  “Be right back!” she said, hurrying out of the kitchen. Ryan watched her head in the direction of the hallway bathroom. What he didn’t see was her racing toward the stairs a minute later.

  “How about offering Vanessa something to eat and a place to sit?” I suggested.

  Ryan grabbed a jar of cookies and led the way to the living room. On our way out, I tapped the kitchen window again, and instantly, Heather reappeared. From where she stood, she could see into the living room, but unless Ryan had a reason to glance back in, he wouldn’t notice her.