Vanishing Acts (8 page)

“Nah, let's go out.” He turned off the TV, stood up, and stretched. “I need air.”

“Where to?” I asked.

“The Pizza Den,” he replied like it was obvious, and I guess it should've been. The Pizza Den is one of our favorite hangouts. The pizza isn't exactly delicious,
but there are other reasons to go: it's close, it's cheap, and most importantly, pretty much everyone we know goes there.

“Okay, hold on a minute,” I said, and quickly headed into our room to change out of my dirty jeans and into some less dirty ones.

As we headed to Seventh Avenue, I asked, “Hey, how come you're home so early, anyway? Doesn't Jones usually keep you longer?”

“Yup, but this afternoon Mom's friend Jenna intervened and accused him of violating child labor laws.”

“No way!” I said.

“Way,” Finn replied. “Turns out, kids are only allowed to work for a certain amount of hours in a row. And shooting went over the limit last night. Apparently this happens all the time on productions, and if we're not complaining, she shouldn't be—that's what Jones argued, anyway. But Jenna didn't agree. She called the police, and they showed up and stopped the cameras.”

“He must've been furious,” I said. “Did he throw a huge tantrum?”

“Epic,” Finn said with a sly grin. “Jenna was totally ruthless. The woman is completely intent on shutting this production down, by any means necessary.”

“That's crazy!” I said.

“It is, in a way,” said Finn. “But to be honest with
you, I wouldn't mind if they had to stop. It's been a long, boring two days of standing around.”

“I told Lucy not to bother asking you. I still can't believe you volunteered.”

Finn shrugged. “So how's the dog-egging case?”

“Terrible! Dogs are being egged every day, and I have no idea who's behind it. The entire thing just seems so random.”

“If it weren't for this dumb Seth Ryan movie, I'd totally help,” Finn said, pulling out his iPod. “Mind if I listen to music the rest of the way? Red just burned this new album for me, and I haven't had time to listen to it.”

He plugged in his earbuds before I could respond, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to think about my case. According to the blogs I'd been reading, three new dogs had been attacked this week: a Saint Bernard, a Yorkie, and a beagle, all near the Ninth Street entrance to the park. I felt like I was missing something obvious, like the answer was out there in the universe and I just wasn't seeing it.

Sometimes when I solve a mystery, the answer will just come to me from nowhere. One second my mind is a blank slate, and in the next, the answer appears, lit up like a neon sign.

But tonight my brain felt more like murky alphabet soup.

Details of the attacks swirled through my brain, making no sense. I didn't even know where to look next.

By the time we got to the Pizza Den, Lucy was waiting outside, standing by the entrance and knitting a tiny dog sweater.

“You can stand and knit at the same time?” asked Finn. “Impressive.”

“Cassie ordered three new outfits for Bean and I'm way behind,” she said without even looking up from her needles. “Rats! I just lost count of my stitches.”

“Sorry,” said Finn.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Having dinner with you,” said Lucy, tucking the sweater into her bag.

“How did you know I'd be here?”

“Finn told me,” said Lucy.

“Really?” I raised my eyebrows at Finn.

He shrugged. “It's no big deal,” he said.

They both gave me blank stares, like I was crazy for questioning this development.

“But you don't even like pizza,” I said to Lucy.

“I like garlic knots and soda,” she replied.

I couldn't argue with her logic, and I didn't even have a chance to, because before I opened my mouth, Finn said, “I invited Milo, too.”

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“He asked what we were doing tonight, which seemed
like kind of an obvious hint, so I asked him to come out for pizza, and then I invited Lucy, too.”

“So it's like a double date,” said Lucy.

“Except none of us is dating,” I said.

“Right,” said Lucy, with a quick glance to Finn. “I've been meaning to talk to you about that . . .”

“I know you think that I should just ask Milo on a real date, but it's not that easy. And at this point, do I even need to? It's not like we never hang out. We do all the time. And I like how it's really casual—like we just sort of accidentally do something together that might otherwise be classified as a date, but we don't have the pressure because it's not. Except I wish I'd known he was coming tonight because I would've worn something nicer.”

“You look great,” said Lucy. “And I still don't get why you won't just ask him out.”

“Why doesn't he ask me?” I replied.

“He did,” said Lucy. “I promise you there is no dog named ‘Call me.'”

“I was kidding about that,” I told her.

Lucy looked at me with suspicion. “Are you sure?”

“Okay, I was ninety-five percent kidding, but there's always that five percent of risk left over.”

Now she rolled her eyes. “This is not a math equation situation. This is your life! And your not calling Milo probably makes him think you're not interested.”

“Keep it down!” I said, suddenly worried about who might overhear.

“And how come it's always the guy's responsibility?” asked Finn. “You're the one who's always going on and on about how Mom and Dad have to treat us equally and not fall into gender stereotypes when they ask us to do stuff around the house and that just because you're a girl and I'm a guy does not mean you'll do the dishes while I take out the trash, even though I know for a fact that you hate taking out the trash.”

“That's not because I'm a girl,” I said. “It's because I hate mice, and ever since I saw that giant one scramble across the street on garbage day I just can't handle it.”

“It's true,” said Lucy. “This one time I knit a little mouse and I showed your sister and she screamed.”

“It looked totally lifelike,” I argued.

“That's because of the whiskers,” Lucy explained to my brother, throwing her shoulders back proudly. “I made them out of invisible wire.”

“You're both missing the point.” Finn crossed his arms and leveled his gaze at me. “It's time I told you the truth, Maggie. There's no such thing as a giant mouse.”

“You weren't there.”

“I didn't have to be. A giant mouse is a rat.”

“No!” I gasped.

“Back me up here, Lucy,” said Finn.

Lucy shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. “I'm afraid he's right. And look who's coming.”

She pointed to Milo walking down the street, and I couldn't help but stare, because Milo does not walk like a regular person. His hands were in his pockets, his head tilted so that his dark hair flopped just perfectly over his big brown eyes in a way that made my heart feel all melty, like the inside of a toasted marshmallow, except not as sticky.

“Hey,” I said, once he got closer.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Let's eat,” said Finn. He opened the door and we all filed inside.

The place was packed. Like, the four of us barely fit inside. Noisy, too.

“How about if Lucy and I save a table,” I yelled. “And you guys wait in line.”

“Cool,” said Milo. “What do you want?”

“I know what she wants,” said Finn, clapping Milo on the shoulders. “Lucy, too. Let's go.”

“Thanks, Finn,” said Lucy, in this super-high voice.

The guys went to the line and Lucy and I wandered around the restaurant looking for a place to sit down, when suddenly I got hit in the face with a breadstick.

“Ouch!” I said, more out of shock than any real pain.

“I'm so sorry,” cried a frazzled-looking mom trying to control her twin toddlers.

“It's okay,” I said.

“No, it's not.” She turned to her daughter. “Now, Bella, you apologize for that. You could've really hurt this poor girl.”

Bella wore a purple tutu, a smudge of pizza sauce on her face, and a look of stubborn indignation. She crossed her arms, looked from me to her mom, and pouted.

“We do not throw things,” her mother said.

“Yes we do,” Bella replied.

Her mom blinked and took a deep breath. “Bella, say you're sorry, now.”

Bella stomped her foot.

“If you don't apologize now, we're leaving.”

Lucy and I looked at each other, both of us thinking the same thing:
Please don't apologize, Bella. Not if it means you'll be giving up this great table. Stick to your guns!

Bella picked up her cup of water, dumped it on the floor, then climbed on top of the table and began tap dancing.

Her mom scooped up Bella and her brother and deposited them in a large double stroller. Lucy and I swooped in before she could finish buckling them down.

“Yes!” said Lucy as we bumped fists.

“Sweet!” I replied. “Those toddlers are like ticking time bombs.”

“Lucky for us.” Lucy giggled. “So, Finn told you the movie got shut down early tonight, right?”

“I heard all about it. Are Sonya and Beatrix disappointed?”

“They both are, but I'm kind of relieved. Being an extra is much less glamorous than I imagined. It's like we're just this big herd of cattle that gets shuffled from one side of the sidewalk to the other. All we do is stand around and wait. We've hardly seen a glimpse of Seth Ryan. I think that bugs them more than anything.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” I said, still pretty upset about my run-in with his security guard—something Lucy knew all about.

“Yeah, but Seth is the only reason we all signed up to be extras. Beatrix and Sonya tried to get close to ask for his autograph for their scrapbook, but this lady with big blond hair came over and started yelling at them. So they ran away.”

“That's not cool, but better to be run off than carried off.”

“Too true.” Lucy sighed. “Still, sometimes I wish the inflatable crowd had never blown away. You're kind of lucky you got thrown off the set.”

“Except once the movie comes out I'll be totally jealous that you guys are going to be in it. Plus, I got accused of being a stalker, which could not be more humiliating.”

“There's that,” said Lucy. “Hey, I have to run to the bathroom. You okay holding this table solo?”

“Sure,” I replied, glancing at Finn and Milo. The line snaked almost to the door, and they were still practically at the end of it.

Just then Milo caught my eye and waved.

I waved back, wondering if maybe he thought this was a date. Was he going to walk me home after? Would we hold hands? Should I try to kiss him?

Soon after Lucy left, this teenage couple swooped in like vultures and asked if I was leaving. “Nope. Just waiting for my friends,” I said.

After they moved on, a mom with a newborn attached to her chest asked me if I'd mind if she changed her baby on the tabletop, and I said, “Ew, no. I mean, yes, I do mind.”

And then some guy came over and asked if he could sit down.

I'd definitely heard his voice somewhere before. But I couldn't place him. Not right away, with his face obscured by a big blue baseball cap. It was pulled down low and his shoulders were hunched like he was trying to shrink into himself.

I said, “Sorry, dude. Table's taken.”

But he continued standing, grinning this goofy, nervous, and kind of familiar grin.

I gave him a closer look and realized I
had
seen him before—many times.

And he wasn't just some guy.

He was Seth Ryan.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Seth wondered, all casual. Not just like we knew each other—more like we were best buds who hung out all the time and it was perfectly normal for us to meet up for pizza on a Thursday night. He acted like he didn't even remember his security guard bombarding me yesterday.

And I know he's this super celebrity who can make millions of hearts race all across the universe with one famous on-screen smile, but seeing him up close in real life after yesterday? Even though half of me wanted to do giddy backflips of joy, I snapped.

“Not until I ask you something,” I said. “What's the deal with calling me over to your trailer and then disappearing when your security guard shows up?”

Seth blinked and straightened up, truly stunned. Maybe because I yelled at him. Yes, probably because of that. I didn't mean to. Honestly, it just sort of happened.

And I could see how he's not used to people raising their voices at him. With the exception of screaming fans, I mean.

But I didn't expect him to look so scared. He stood there frozen. I'm talking full-on statue pose. I could have knocked him over with a finger. Which meant I'd just scared the most famous guy in Hollywood—something I now felt bad about.