How to Get Dirt (10 page)
Authors: S. E. Campbell
Prudence
approached, then grabbed
Pickles by the
shoulders and began to shake her
until her
teeth clacked together and her
neck ached
.
“
How bad do you want to stay with your family?
”
Prudence asked.
“
More than anything.
”
“
Then you are going to have to find something on them.
”
Prudence grinned.
“
Be perfect on the outside, but the moment their backs are turnedâ¦
”
“
But I don
'
t know the first thing about blackmail.
”
With a cackle, Prudence
turned
around
and went to
Pickles
'
desk
,
where she
grabbed a piece of paper and a pen
,
and
then
began
to write
in bold letters,
HOW TO GET DIRT
.
She then began to number the lines down the side.
“
You
'
re lucky you have a master at work here,
”
Prudence said, as she wrote down
sentences Pickles
couldn
'
t read
from where she sat
. A moment later, Prudence balled up the piece of paper,
whirled
around, and then hurled
it
at
Pickles
'
head.
Pickles picked up the paper
and read.
Â
HOW TO GET DIRT
1)
Ask the neighbors all sorts of questions.
2) Check the numbers in their cell phones and ask everybody who they are.
3) Come home at random times during the day. See if they act guilty.
4) Search the house and their computers.
Â
Pickles
peered
down at the paper and gasped. Prudence honestly expected her to do all of this stuff? She
had never been able to lie well
, yet she was going to have to
make excuses to
ask the neighbors questions and call strangers
'
cell phones?
“
I don
'
t know if I can do this,
”
she
said, feeling queasy.
With another cackle, Prudence grabbed her shoulders again.
“
You can do it, Pickles. I
know you
can.
”
She nodded her head. Maybe she could.
Maybe she had to.
****
Mrs. Beazley took
them
to a Spanish restaurant for lunch
.
Pickles
ordered quesadillas with sour cream
and
salsa. The food tasted great. To
Pickles
'
surprise, Miranda
came along
, even though she had been
sure Miranda
was supposed to be at
work. Across from her sat Prudence and Mrs. Beazley
.
Prudence kept casting looks at Miranda over her taco salad
. Maybe it was because the atmosphere felt
awkward
somehow, though Pickles couldn
'
t figure out why. She had never felt awkward around Mrs. Beazley before.
Maybe it was because the conversation between Mrs. Beazley and Miranda seemed forced.
When they had finished their meal, the waitress appeared and
stared
at them with a big, fake smile.
“
Are you finished?
”
Miranda
glanced
around at everybody
.
“
Yes, I think so. Are you done, Pickles?
”
“
Yes, Miranda,
”
Pickles said.
“
It
was good
.
”
“
How should I split the check?
”
the waitress asked, looking at Mrs. Beazley and then at Miranda.
“
Oh, I
'
ll pay for it.
”
Miranda reached for her wallet, but Mrs. Beazley shook her head.
“
No, I
'
ll
cover
it,
”
Mrs. Beazley said.
“
Pickles and I are old friends. I
'
ve got it.
”
But Miranda didn
'
t like that. Her lips pursed. The waitress
'
s eyes widened in confusion.
“
One check then?
”
The waitress frowned.
“
Should I just bring over the bill for the food?
”
Miranda nodded and the waitress disappeared.
“
I can pay for the meal,
”
Miranda said
, frowning
.
“
You drove all the way here to see my Pickles.
”
She laid
her hand on top of
Pickles
'
and
grinned.
“
Don
'
t be
silly,
”
Mrs. Beazley said.
“
I did
n
'
t even warn
you I
was coming. Awfully rude of me, unannounced. Let me make up for it.
”
Both of them stared at each other
.
Pickles felt confused. It was almost like they were fighting, but it was like no
fight she
had ever seen. Nobody was raising their voices, nobody was throwing dinner plates. Both Mrs. Beazley and Miranda were smiling. Yet things were so
awkward
,
Pickles
felt as if she was swimming around in a soup of tension.
The waitress re-appeared with
the
check in
her
hand
then
laid it on the table. Both Miranda and Mrs. Beazley reached for the check at the same time
. Though both
of them smiled at each other, Pickles
swore she
saw a vein throb i
n Miranda
'
s temple.
Before she knew what she was thinking, Pickles said,
“
I
'
ll pay for it.
”
Heads turned in her direction.
“
You, Pickles?
”
Mrs. Beazley raised an eyebrow.
“
Well, I
'
ll work for it
.
”
Pickles
heart raced in her chest as she exhaled a shaky, urgent gasp
.
“
Miranda may have to help me out at first, but I promise I
'
ll do dishes and whatever else you need me to. Just please stop fighting about whatever it is that you
'
re fighting about.
”
The tension deflated like a popped balloon. Mrs. Beazley slumped back in her seat with a sigh. A weak laugh eased through Miranda
'
s lips.
“
I
'
ll pay half,
”
Miranda said.
“
We won
'
t count it.
”
Mrs. Beazley smiled.
“
I like that plan. How do you feel about that, Pickles?
”
Pickles nodded,
eyes
brimming with unshed
tears
.
Â
Â
Asking the neighbors questions was going to be difficult.
At three
-
thirty, Miranda drove
Pickles
home from school. Usually
Miranda fixed her a snack
and
then spent an hour probing her about her day.
When
David got home at
five
,
he
did the same thing. By the time it was six o
'
clock, dinner was on the table and the family would watch a movie until her eight o
'
clock bedtime.
She didn
'
t have
much time for neighbor sleuthing
.
But then she replayed her conversation with Prudence.
“
How bad do you want to stay with your family?
”
Prudence asked.
“
More than anything.
”
“
Then you are going to have to find something on them.
”
Pickles
grimaced then thunked her head on her desk. The teacher, Ms.
McDonald
, raised an eyebrow
at her
, but she ignored this and went back to fake finishing her homework.
Mrs.
McDonald
'
s cell phone rang, causing
Pickles
to look up again.
Mrs.
McDonald
turned
around
to leave
the classroom. As Pickles watched her, she was struck by a brilliant plan.
Her homework.
Teachers sent them home with big assignments all the time. She could be assigned to ask the neighbors questions. It was perfect. She flipped to the next page of her notebook
and
devised some
questions she
thought would be perfect for her to get dirt on her family.
Â
1) What have you noticed my
“
parents
”
do during the day?
2) Who comes
and
goes?
3) How often do you talk to them?
4) What do you think of them?
Â
She was just smiling at the list when suddenly her papers were torn away from her by Mary Lou. The pen made a skid mark across the top.
“
What are you writing?
”
Mary Lou asked.
“
You were guarding the paper.
”
“
Stop it.
Give it back
.
”
Mary Lou began to read aloud
.
“â
What have you noticed my
'
â
eep.
”
A massive shadow appeared and stole away her notebook. It took Pickles a moment to
realize it
wasn
'
t a
massive shadow at all. It was the girl
named Courtney,
who
always sat at the back of the class.
Even at twelve, Courtney must have been almost six feet tall. Blonde, curly hair shot out in all directions on her head, giving her the look of wearing a lion
'
s mane.
“
I
believe Pickles
said to stop it
.
”
Courtney
'
s
voice was low and
very
masculine for
belonging to
a girl.
“
What
are you going to do about it, Big Foot?
”
Mary Lou asked, though Pickles
thought she
sounded nervous.
“
Easy.
”
A hoarse laugh burst from Courtney
'
s throat
.
“
This.
”
Courtney picked up Mary Lou
'
s backpack and dug inside of it with one hand
.
It took her only a second to
dig out
a journal
covered with fuzzy
,
pink material
.
With a smirk, Courtney
dropped the bag and
held the journal
out of Mary Lou
'
s reach.
Then
she
opened
it
and read
aloud
,
“â
March 17th. Today this cute guy talked to me. I think I
'
m going to ask him toâ
'“
“
Stop it! Stop it!
”
Mary Lou cried, tears filling her eyes.
“â
âbe my boyfriend.
'”
Courtney
snorted
.
“â
He is so cute and funny and amazing. It
'
s hard to
imagine somebody
so perfect could be in existence. I think Natalie likes him
too
, but she
'
sâ
'“
The tears tumbled down Mary Lou
'
s
cheeks
now
as
her face grew red. Pickles
glanced
from Courtney to Mary Lou then stood up.
“
Stop it,
”
Pickles said.
“
That
'
s enough. Please.
”
Courtney lowered the
journal.
Mary Lou grabbed it and clutched it to her chest.
Then she turned, her face crimson, and
fled from the room as the class laughed. Pickles was horrified, but she was strangely happy too. She had a
feeling Mary
Lou wasn
'
t going to pick on her again.
A hand extending toward hers caused her to look away from the door.
“
I
'
m Courtney Woodland,
”
Courtney said.
“
Can I sit by you?
”
Pickles nodded and moved over so Courtney coul
d sit by her. Though Lily inched
her chair away, Pickles didn
'
t care.
