Harper Madigan: Junior High Private Eye (4 page)

Veronica Jones, ex-star of the school musical, leans precariously on her crutches the next morning, propping them under her armpits so she has both hands free to dig a compact out of her locker and check herself out in the tiny mirror. She flicks a lock of blond curls over her shoulder, really playing it up.

I remember what Danigail said about her being a diva, and in the two minutes I’ve spent with her so far, I can believe it.

Austin flips open his notebook, his pencil hovering over the paper, ready to record every detail of our meeting so he can report it all back to Dodge later.

“Listen, Veronica,” I say, “why don’t you—”

Austin interrupts me. “Please, Miss Jones, can you tell us what happened the afternoon of…” He squints at his notes. “…Friday the 12th, at around 4:30 P.M.?”

I glare at him, my teeth clenched. Last time I checked, this was still my investigation, and that means I do the talking.

“Oh, I know
exactly
what happened.” Veronica pulls out a tube of the reddest lipstick I’ve ever seen and slides it across her lips, answering the question without missing a beat. “Somebody had the nerve to go pushing me off the stage.
Me
.”

Her hands shake in anger, and she has to pause to get a hold of herself. She gestures to her bandaged ankle with a sweep of her hand. “The real question isn’t what happened. What you boys wanna know is who sabotaged my getaway sticks.”

Austin bites his lip and stares hard at his notebook. “G… e… t… Is there a space or is it one word?”

“Try L-E-G-S.” I motion for him to shut up, focusing on Veronica again. “Who says it was sabotage?”

The compact snaps shut. Veronica’s eyes narrow, pointed right at me. I’ve got her full attention now. “You listen to me. I don’t know who you are or where you come from, but I bet you know who I am. Everyone does, and everyone knows I’m not just the lead in this show—I’m a triple threat. I can act, I can sing, and boy can I
dance
. At least, that was true up until last Friday.”

“Even stars have accidents. Maybe you were standing too close to the edge, lost your footing, and you don’t want to admit it. It’s easier for you to say it was sabotage than to face the truth. You did this to yourself.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I want to see her reaction.

“It was anything but my fault. I’ll tell you how it went down. Rehearsal was over, and everybody’d left to go home. Everybody except me, because I wanted to get in a little more practice time, and it was just me and
Danigail Bates
. I thought it was weird that she’d stayed after, because that brother of hers, the so-called writer, Oliver?”

She pauses, as if I don’t know who Oliver is.

“Well, he’d already taken off. I don’t know why she hung around, but it gave me the creeps. So anyway, I was standing at the front of the stage, practicing my solo. I must have been pretty into it, because I didn’t hear her coming up behind me or anything. But then, all of a sudden, I feel her shove me. She put her hands right on my back and pushed. I screamed. What kind of star doesn’t scream when she’s attacked? Anyway, the next thing I know I’m on the floor and my ankle feels like the world’s going to end, and then there’s Danigail, all freaked out about what she’d done, asking me if I’m okay, pretending like she didn’t have anything to do with it!”

Austin glances up from his notebook. “But you didn’t actually see her do it?”

“I didn’t need to see her—she was the only one around! And everyone knows she had it in for me. She bad-mouthed me all the time. Ask anyone.”

I fold my arms, taking this in. “From what I hear, that’s because you were harassing Oliver.”

Her face turns sour, and for a moment all the makeup in the world couldn’t hide her ugly contempt. “Oliver’s the one who heard me scream. He must not have gotten far yet, because he got there first. He saw Danigail still standing, hovering over me, and he saw me on the floor, clutching my ankle. He did the math just like I did, and even he knows his sister’s dangerous. You should talk to
him
if you don’t believe me.”

Talking to Oliver is the last thing I want to do. Luckily, the warning bell goes off, signaling five minutes to homeroom. “Well, I think we’ve heard enough. Thanks for your time, and if you’ll excuse us—”

“Wait. There’s one more thing.” Veronica slams her locker shut and moves to face me. “Danigail and Alexis, my understudy? They’re real good friends.”

She pauses, letting that sink in.

“They’ve been whispering to each other a lot—won’t let anyone else hear what they’re saying. Alexis wanted my part, and now she has it. Because of Danigail. You just think about that and tell me this wasn’t sabotage.”

I’m washing my hands in the bathroom when the door creaks open. Someone shuffles in. I play it real cucumber-like and don’t look up, but something tells me I’m not going to like who it is. His footsteps are both hesitant and deliberate at the same time, like he’s here for a reason but is thinking about bolting. I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’s not here to use the facilities.

Slowly, I glance over out of the corner of my eye. I don’t recognize him, but he must recognize me because he’s staring. There’s no doubt about it—whatever the reason, he’s here to see me. I brace myself for what might turn into a scuffle and slowly—coolly—move to face him.

I get a good look at him and blink a few times, because he’s not what I expected. I thought he might be one of Connor’s goons come to rough me up because of my little accusation yesterday. But this guy couldn’t rough up a fly. His eyes are haunted, and there are dark circles under them, like he hasn’t slept in months. He keeps glancing at me, then over his shoulder, then at the floor. His shoulders tremble and he wrings his hands together, locking his fingers, twisting them and then letting them go, over and over.

“I only see potential clients in my office,” I tell him, taking a guess about why he’d seek me out. He looks the type—he’s definitely seen his share of trouble.

He tilts his head to one side, like he’s playing my words over and over in his head. Then one side of his mouth slowly tugs into a smile, as if he just got the punchline to a joke, and he starts to laugh. “I’m not a client. I’m here to tell you…” He pauses, glancing over his shoulder again. “You’d better stay away.”

I take a step toward him.

He holds up his hands and flinches. “From the PTA. They sent me to tell you to stop right now, so no one gets hurt.”

Cold dread snakes through me, so that I don’t dare to move a muscle. My mouth goes suddenly dry, and it’s a moment before I can form the words. “Stop what?” But I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

“Stop interfering. It’s not too late. Not yet. Not for you.”

“Is that why they sent
you
? Did something happen to you?”

He shakes his head, then glances over his shoulder, as if he expects to find the entire PTA standing behind him in the boys’ bathroom. He stops shaking his head and nods. “They did this to me. I’m supposed to be in ninth grade. But last year… I got on their bad side. They cut chess club. They said for funding reasons. I tried to stand up to them.” He wraps his arms around himself and seems to shrink a little. “My straight As turned to Fs. Suddenly I was failing my classes. My parents got so mad. They grounded me. I studied every day from when I got home until bed. But I couldn’t bring my grades up. Not with the PTA calling the shots. No matter how I tried, they were always a couple moves ahead of me. I was a pawn and they were all queens. And now…” He gestures to himself. “I’m stuck in eighth grade. All my friends moved on to ninth and left me behind. I never see them. They don’t dare even talk to me now. And next year, they’ll all go to high school and I’ll still be
here
.”

I fold my arms across my chest, missing the rustling sounds my trench coat would have made if Dodge hadn’t confiscated it. “So they sent you to try and intimidate me.”

“You don’t want to cross them. All I did was stand up for chess club. What you’re doing… You’re messing with their personal business. And with the campaign coming up… You’re getting in
deep
.” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. I don’t know what he means about a campaign, or if he’s just talking nonsense. “They’re making you an offer. One time only. Stop interfering now, and nobody gets hurt.”

“Nobody except Danigail.”

“Fine. Stop now and you don’t get hurt. You don’t wind up like me. I can’t even look at a chess piece anymore.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “They
ruined
me and they’ll ruin you too. If you back off now, they’re willing to let you go.” He swallows, his eyes pleading with me. “Take it. Or else you’ll end up like…” He swallows. “I didn’t used to be like this, you know. You have to believe me!”

I can see it’s too late for him, but not for me. I’ve made only one move, interrupting the Board meeting and sticking up for Danigail like that, and the PTA already knows about it. I’d been hoping to get farther into the investigation before they realized what was going on. I don’t know why they want Danigail to take the heat so badly, but whatever the reason, they mean business. If they get involved, it’s only a matter of time before Dodge finds out. And before he shuts me down. But I look at the kid in front of me, the way he hunches his shoulders and tries to look small, the way he trembles and twitches like a scared rabbit, like he’s lost all sense of how to
exist
and take up space… And I know that whatever the PTA’s going to do to me if I go after them, it won’t stop at shutting down the agency. That’ll be the least of my troubles.

“Please,” he says. His eyes don’t just look haunted now—they look full on crazy. He reaches towards me with clawed hands and grabs my shoulders. “
Please
,” he begs. “You don’t know what you’re getting into!”

I push him off of me and twist around so he’s no longer between me and the door. The last thing in the world I want is to become this guy. But really, that’s the second to last thing I want. Because even more than that, I don’t want
Danigail
to become this guy.

I shake my head at him, my hand already on the door handle, ready to fly out of here. My heart pounds with terror. Every part of me screams not to say what I’m about to say, except the part of me that believes right is better than wrong, even in the face of certain destruction. My whole body feels numb, and my mouth seems to move on its own, though I’m perfectly aware of everything I’m saying. “Tell them I refuse their offer. Tell them Harper Madigan doesn’t go down without a fight. Tell them
it’s on
.”

And then I’m gone, out the door before I can see the disappointment and horror on his face. I’m in the hallway, sucking in deep breaths, suddenly realizing how much I was suffocating in there. A couple kids stop to stare at me, but I ignore them. They can’t imagine the trouble I’m in. They can’t imagine how everything I’ve ever cared about is about to be turned upside down and ripped to shreds.

But at least I’m doing the right thing. In the grand cosmic scheme of things it might not count for a whole lot, but it’s got to count for something. Right?

The track smells like a mixture of warm AstroTurf and that fake, spongy asphalt stuff. The girls in track team are all stretching and tightening their shoelaces. One girl in particular catches my attention. Austin’s gaping at her, too, so I know it’s not just me. She’s bent down, tying her shoe, so I only get a glimpse of her from behind, but I recognize those wavy blond locks from our interview this morning.

“Veronica?” My mind races with questions, like what happened to her crutches and why is she here, about to run for track, but then I realize my mistake.

Alexis Briar stands up, her mouth twisted in an angry scowl. “I am
not
Veronica Jones. If you ever mistake me for that diva again, I’ll—” She cuts herself off, clenching her fists and getting a grip, her nostrils flaring in and out. She reaches up behind her head and twists her hair into a ponytail.

“Veronica was right,” Austin whispers. “She
is
trying to look like her.”

He’s not quiet enough, because Alexis clearly hears him. She puts her hands on her hips and scuffs the toe of her running shoe against the AstroTurf. “Please. Veronica’s not even a natural blond, and you think
I’m
trying to look like
her
? You’d better watch it, boys, because comparing someone to Veronica Jones can be a very offensive act. If you can’t at least behave yourselves, then for your sakes I hope you can
run
. And fast.”

A dark haired girl breaks away from the rest of the group and jogs over. “You okay, Alexis? These guys reek of
annoyance
.”

I hold up a hand. “We just want to talk. You’re friends with Danigail Bates?”

That gets Alexis’ attention. She lets out an exasperated sigh of defeat, like we’re asking her to run barefoot across hot coals instead of answer a few questions. “It’s all right, Sienna—I can get rid of them on my own.”

Sienna grins and pounds a fist into her empty palm, squinting a silent threat at me. “Don’t take long,” she warns Alexis, “or coach will take it out on us in pushups. I’m here to
run
, not kiss the AstroTurf.”

She hurries back to the rest of the team, and Alexis’ eyes shift from me to Austin, as if she’s trying to figure if she’s ever seen us before. “So what if Danigail and I are friends? Who wants to know?”

“Harper Madigan.”

“And Austin Phelps.”

Recognition flickers in her eyes when I say my name, but she shakes her head and pretends like Danigail’s never mentioned me. “Never heard of you. Either of you.”

I ignore her. “You probably already know Danigail’s in trouble. Big trouble.” I pause a second, letting that sink in. “If you want to help her, you’ll talk.”

In the background, Mrs. Pitts, the girls’ track coach, barks out orders at the other girls. “Zalinski! Lift those knees! Stretch it, girls! You want to be a champion this weekend, Powers? What about you, Thompson? That’s what I thought! No pain, no gain, O’Neill—you gotta love to sweat!”

Alexis folds her arms across the Bright Oaks initials printed across her dark blue track uniform. “I don’t know anything about it. But you want to question me? Fine. If it’ll help Danigail out, then fine—just make it quick. I’ve got laps to run.”

Mrs. Pitts glances over at her and waves for her to get a move on. “Come on, Briar! This isn’t a tea party. We’re out here to
move
!”

Alexis holds up a finger. “I’ll just be a minute. I promise.” She looks me right in the eye. “You heard the coach. My time is precious. So spit it out already.”

“Number one,” Austin says. “True or false, you attended the rehearsal after school last Friday?”

“This isn’t a pop quiz,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“False,” Alexis says. “I had an emergency track practice. We always have a lot of those when a meet’s coming up. I couldn’t skip.”

Austin scribbles that down in his notebook. “Moving on to number two—”

I interrupt him before he can ask her any multiple choice questions. “What are your feelings towards Veronica Jones?”

“I think I’ve made them pretty clear. The girl gets on my nerves. But if she leaves me alone, then I leave her alone. End of story.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Alexis chews her lip, not answering. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to her, and neither did Danigail. Just because I don’t like somebody doesn’t make me a criminal. You want to know what I think? I think little miss D danced herself off that stage all on her own.”

“That’s not the way she tells it,” Austin says.

“I’ll bet it’s not.” The coach waves at her again, pointing at her watch. “Look, I gotta get going. So if you’ll excuse me—”

I move to block her. “Just one more question. Rumor has it that you were originally first choice for the lead, but then Veronica pushed to have rehearsals coincide with track practice. You couldn’t be the lead if you’re not there every day. I bet it took some work just convincing them to let you be the understudy.”

Alexis glares at me. “I’ve got the fastest sprint times anyone’s seen at this school in almost five years. We beat out Middleton last month, and that was because of
me
. Veronica Jones might need to be the lead in the musical and lord it over everyone so she can feel special, but I don’t. End. Of. Story.”

“You and Danigail have been whispering about something during rehearsals. If there’s something going on—” “You said one more question—that’s two.” She pushes past me and starts running, hurrying to make up lost time.

“Well?” Austin says, flipping his notebook shut.

“Something’s up with her,” I tell him. “I don’t know what yet, but she’s hiding something. I’m sure of it.”