I So Don't Do Spooky (12 page)

“I heard his math tutor picks him up from school and takes him directly home,” Hair Band Girl says.

“And the math tutor leaves when the Spanish tutor arrives. Kyle won't see the sun for weeks.” Earring Girl shakes her head so hard in sympathy that her hoops smack against her cheeks. “His stepmom plays bunco with my mom, so I get all the Kyle scoop.”

Certainly doesn't sound like Kyle did the tire slashing. He's too heavily guarded by tutors. Another dead-end lead.

I sure hope Mom or Grandpa discovers something. Like when Mom's at the district board meeting today. Maybe a crazed math teacher wants the department head job big-time bad, and he's freaking The Ruler so she'll drop out of the running. Or maybe when Grandpa's shadowing Kyle's dad, he'll dig up something concrete.

“You know who I feel really sorry for?” Earring Girl says, not looking sorry at all. “Kyle's math teacher.”

“Why?” My elbows on the table, I lean in close.

“He's got some major evil planned for her once he's off restriction.”

“W
ow! Mom, that's fantastic!” It's after school, and I'm with Mom and Grandpa on our back porch. The Ruler's still at school, having a last-minute robotics meeting before tonight's practice competition. Junie's there too, of course. Sam's at Little League. Mom is spilling all the cool details about the Ghostlympics.

“What'd you have to get them to do?” I ask.

“Pick up small objects, like buttons and Legos.” Mom's voice is giddy with pride. “And there were animals I'd never experimented with before: a veiled chameleon, a hamster. …”

“Your mom was
magnifico.”
Grandpa lifts a spindly
leg to his beak and blows a kiss Hollywood-style. “Truly magnifico.”

I actually understood him. At least I'm pretty sure I did. “Yay, Mom!”

“Sherry, what if I manage to pull this off? What if I win Real Time for us? I was thinking maybe we could get a soft pretzel together. We used to love that.”

I imagine the two of us side by side on a bench at the mall, chewing and talking, warm pretzels in our hands. “Yeah, yeah, that'd be so great! What happens next at the Ghostlympics?”

“Tougher tasks. In the semifinals we have to get animals with bigger brains to move larger objects.” The cushion on the garden chair where my mom's sitting gives a little shake. “It's much more complicated.”

Sounds very robotics-ish. “When are the semifinals?”

“They start tonight at six. And they'll last for hours.”

I freeze. “But tonight's the robotics practice competition.” I start twirling my hair. “Can Grandpa come with me?”

“No,” he squawks.

“Your grandfather's a runner again at the Ghostlympics,” Mom says. “Besides, no one's going to let a bird fly around inside at a robotics meet.”

“Wait a sec. I might not even have to go to the
practice competition, right?” I untangle my finger. “What'd you find out at the district school board meeting, Mom?”

She sighs heavily. “Nothing of interest. A handful of math teachers applied for the department head position at Saguaro. Most of them have more experience than Paula, so she's not really a contender.”

“Oh.” I'm twirling my hair again. “What about you, Grandpa? Did you find out anything about Kyle's dad? Did he slash the tires?”

Grandpa shakes his little bird head. “Alibi.”

I'm twirling my hair faster and faster, like it's a race. “Yeah, but he could've paid someone else to slash them.”

He shakes his head again. “Doubtful.”

“What about Kyle?” Mom asks.

“That's a big fat zero.” I give them the details. “Although he does plan to give our house his deluxe TP treatment, which involves a ninety-six pack of toilet paper plus plastic forks stuck in the ground all over the front yard plus Saran Wrap around The Ruler's car.”

“Sherry, you have to go to the robotics competition,” Mom says softly. “To follow up on this lead and keep an eye on Paula. As best you can.”

I bury my head in my hands. “The Donner team will be there wanting me to spy on my school. My school team will be there wanting me to be supportive. And
if those fanatical Donner weirdos figure out not only do I go to Saguaro, but The Ruler is my stepmother …” I massage my head. “But no way I want you to quit the Ghostlympics and go with me.”

Total and complete silence. Like the world has stopped spinning. Even Grandpa doesn't croak out anything.

I do
not
want my mom to ditch the Ghostlympics. Not in a million years. I want her to go to the semifinals, and ace them. I want her to advance to the finals where she blows everyone out of the water and wins Real Time. I'm not exactly sure what we'll use the five minutes on. But I know one thing—I'm getting a hug.

Which means I will be on my own at Emerson Middle School this evening. I suck in a deep detective breath. I will be on my sneakiest, sleuthiest, stealthiest behavior. I won't get caught by Donner. I won't get caught by Saguaro.

Because getting caught would be überbad.

After Mom and Grandpa take off, I sprawl out in the garden chair on the porch, trying to chill. From my head to my toes, I'm basically a bundle of anxious, jumpy nerves. The chilling business? It's not working.

My cell rings. “You're the Best” by the Boyfriends! Josh's song! I flip it open. “Hi, Josh.”

“Hi, Sherry. What're you doing?”

“Chillin'.”

“Guess what? I've got some great news.”

Okay. Can I just say how much I love it when Josh gets all bubbly like a little kid at Chuck E. Cheese's? “What?”

“I scored us free movie tickets. From a customer at my mom's shop.”

“Josh, you rock!”

“And that's not even the best part.”

He is so beyond cute in his excitement. “What's the best part?”

“They're for
Janus.”

I squeal.
Janus
. Supposedly the chick flick to end all chick flicks. And my fine boyfriend will go with me.

“And that's not even the best part.”

“What is the best part?”

“The tickets include popcorn and soda.”

“Yay!”

“And that's not even the best part.”

While it's definitely adorable when he's all bubbly and excited, it also gets old. “Seriously. What is the best part?”

“The tickets are for opening night.”

“Isn't that tonight?” Which means the “best part” is rapidly morphing into the “worst part” for me.

“At six.”

Does everything of consequence in Phoenix start
tonight at six o'clock? “I'm really, really sorry, but I can't go. I promised I'd go to this robotics thing.”

“Bummer.” He sounds like I popped his birthday balloon. “I don't want to just waste the tickets.”

“Your mom?”

“Nah, she's already got tickets.”

“Eric?” Even as the name leaves my lips, I know it's not going to work.

Josh snorts. “Eric's not into chick flicks. There'd have to be explosives and chase scenes.”

And then a name pops into my mind. The name of someone who
is
into chick flicks. The name of someone who would Superwoman-vault over tall buildings in a single bound. Or break a chunky leg trying if it meant a chance to go out with Josh.

I hold my breath and just hope “Candy” doesn't leap from my mind over to Josh's.

After I get off the phone, I can't even sit still, I'm so antsy and full of worries. A horrible thought keeps replaying in my troubled mind. Josh and Candy will end up at
Janus
together.

Finally, I decide I can't take the torture for one more second.

I dig Polly's business card out of my purse.

“Hi, Polly,” I say when she picks up.

“Hi, Sherry. What's up?”

“Remember that guy you said is really into me? The one with messy hair? Any chance he goes to the
movies with the glittery girl you saw talking to him? You know, during my reading.”

“I couldn't say,” Polly answers. “Maybe if I did a reading for one of them, I'd see something about a movie. But I might not. I sort of just see what I see. Why?”

“He has
Janus
tickets for tonight.”

“Very cool.”

“He asked me and all, but I can't go. So I was wondering if he asks her.”

“It's just like I told you, Sherry, he really likes you. Even if he ends up going to
Janus
with the other girl, you don't need to worry.”

Easy for her to say.

“What happened with the slashed tires?” Polly asks.

“The police think it was maybe teens or an unhappy student. My stepmom's a teacher.”

“I had some scary vibes about her. Did you tell her to be way careful?”

“Uh, not yet.”

“You should.” Polly pauses. “You got a science test coming up?”

“Uh, yeah. As a matter of fact, I do. Worth half my grade.”

“You better study.”

You don't need to be a psychic to tell me that.

I
'm standing outside the door of Emerson's gym, looking in. Nervously. My eye is twitching like a camera shutter set on sports speed.

There are a gazillion middle-school students, parents, teachers, judges. Stick me in there and it'll be a gazillion and one. That's a lot of bodies. One body can hide and eavesdrop in the middle of a lot of bodies. I might actually be able to pull off this undercover operation. My eye twitch slows down.

I step in. It's noisy. Just as you would expect with all those bodies. It's hot. Just as you would expect with all those bodies.

There's a big box of safety glasses with a sign: SAFETY GOGGLES MUST BE WORN IN THE PIT. I strap on
a pair. It's a disguise of sorts. This mission is doable. My eye twitch disappears.

The gym is divided in half. One half is a big rectangle with a two-foot-high Plexiglas fence around it. The field where the bots compete. The other half is divided into three rows. Each row is made up of about twelve team booths, six on each side of the row. The booths are constructed of plastic pipes and decorated with team banners and homemade posters. Inside most booths is a bunch of people with screwdrivers and drills, poking and prodding their robot. At the front of each booth, there's a basket of free team buttons.

Head ducked, I lurk at the end of each row, peering through the crowds to find the Donner booth. I need to sneak into the back of their stall before anyone from my school sees and identifies me. I figure I'll hide there for the evening, listening for any plans about The Ruler.

“Mary, finally, you're here.”

With a scream, I jump.

“We've been looking for you.” Claire's right in my face. With her shiny black hair totally straightened, the long side looks longer and the short side looks shorter. Add in a white and turquoise tie-dye T-shirt with a blazing fireball on the back and
DONNER DYNAMOS
in black letters across the front. Claire's got a
real robotic-warrior thing going. “Where's your team shirt, Mary?”

“Dirty laundry,” I mumble. I'm in jeans and a pastel pink blouse. Why? Because pink isn't a Donner school color, and pink isn't a Saguaro school color. Plus, pink goes well with my skin tone.

Claire frowns. “Here's the schedule I've made up for everyone.” She pulls a sheet off her clipboard and hands it to me. “Your responsibilities are highlighted. And there's a note to remind you to bring the bling to our next meeting. We'll glue it on before we crate our bot.”

I read the sheet. The eye twitch makes a comeback. “Claire, why am I mostly in the Saguaro booth? On spy duty.”

“That's plan A,” Claire says smugly.

I throw my hands up in the air. “But I'm over there more than anybody else. By a bunch.”

“You're new to the Donner Dynamos. Judges are visiting the booths. They have the right to ask any team member any question. And we get judged on the answer.” She flips the longer side of her hair back and it gleams under the fluorescent lights. “Imagine if they asked you a question?”

I glance back down at the paper. “What exactly is ‘driving time' anyway? 'cause that's what you scheduled yourself for.”

“The driver handles the controls. So I'll be manning the remote that maneuvers our bot during the actual competition. I have the most experience driving. If you're interested, you can try that position next year.”

Next year, schmext year. I want to grab her clipboard and whack her over the head with it. Repeatedly.

Claire points across the room. “The Saguaro Cacti are the next row over. They're number 9141. We're down this row. See our sign?”

“Yeah.” I can definitely see their lame-o poster-board sign with team photos glued on in a circle around a hand-drawn fireball.

She glances at her watch. “You better head over now to the Saguaro booth. Bryce'll show you what to do. Don't leave till Austin gets there. He's your relief.” She fiddles with the clip, making sure the remaining papers are secure. “Mary, does your cell have a decent camera?”

I'm walking away and nodding. After a few steps, I veer off to the opposite side of the room. I can so not kick it at the Saguaro booth with Bryce.

I hang out by the fence surrounding the field, sort of watching the competitions. There are four bots in the field at a time, working together in pairs. You drive your bot around the field, sometimes even racing. You pick up plastic rings and drop them on these
peg thingies. You can even remove rings your opponents put on. It's all about getting points. There's lots of cheering. A noisy buzzer blares when the match is over. The sound system starts up, blasting loud music.