Panic (5 page)

Mercedes looked up through her tears. “Right after I checked my voice messages. When I saw that text, I, like, panicked. It was so not like her—it was just plain crazy.”

“Can you show it to me?” Officer Barrington asked.

Mercedes pulled her phone out of her purse, scrolled to the message, and, trembling, handed over the phone. Barrington studied it carefully while Officer Valido copied the message into his notebook.

“So you called your mother after you discovered the text message?” Valido asked.

“Well, first I called Diamond's cell, like, a million times, but it just went to voice mail—she'd told me in
the car that her phone was out of juice. Then I called my mother. And she called Diamond's mom. I guess Diamond's mom called you.”

Officer Valido stood and stretched. “You've been very helpful, Mercedes. I know this has been difficult, but your information will really help us to start the search for Diamond.”

Officer Barrington shook her hand. “We may have follow-up questions. We'll be in touch. I hope you have a great performance tonight.”

“Not likely,” Mercedes said with a sigh.

“May we keep this leotard and receipt for a few days?” Valido asked.

“Keep it forever,” Mercedes replied. “I will never, ever wear that thing!”

“Take care, lest an adventure is now offered you,

which, if accepted, will plunge you into deepest woe.”

—from
Peter Pan

The ride from the mall to Thane's house took only about ten minutes. The rain continued; the day looked like a thick gray wool blanket.

Diamond, more nervous about meeting movie stars than riding in a car with a complete stranger, breathed deeply. The seats were real leather, and new! She stifled a giggle when she thought about telling Mercedes she'd actually ridden in a Mercedes!

“Want to see a picture of Chloe? I've got some on my phone,” Thane said as they paused at red light. He pulled up a photo on his iPhone and handed it to Diamond.

She gazed at the attractive wife, the ruddy Irish setter, and a teenager who must be Chloe—she was pencil thin and blond.

“There are more—you're welcome to scroll across,” he said, so she did, seeing several fuzzy photos of Chloe with movie stars and singers that Diamond had only seen in magazines.

“Your daughter sure is lucky,” Diamond said.

“Yes, she's a good kid. She doesn't even know how charmed her life is. I guess she thinks everybody grows up on a movie set.”

“I'm a little nervous,” Diamond admitted. “I've only auditioned for parts in school plays and dance recitals.”

“An audition is an audition! So relax and be yourself. You'll do fine.”

The rain beat down upon the car. Diamond watched the droplets zigzag down the side of the window. She thought with a pang about the performance she was missing; without thinking, she scraped the polish off three of her fingernails.

“We're almost there,” Thane said, as if reading her mind.

Diamond reached into her pocket for her phone. “I better call my mom. She's gonna kill me for ditching this performance. She pays a lot of money for my classes.”

“Great idea,” Thane replied. “I'll give you the address so you can tell her where to meet you.”

Diamond fumbled in her pockets and took her phone
out. It was then that she discovered that the battery was completely dead.

“Aw, man—I'm out of juice,” Diamond cried out. “And I left my charger at home.”

“Not to worry. You can use my phone—oh wait, we're here! You can call her as soon as we get in the house.” Thane pulled into a long driveway lined with thick shrubbery, which snaked through increasingly dense trees. It seemed they drove for almost half a mile before the road cleared and they finally drew up in front of a huge stone home. A rainbow of spring flowers—tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils—were in full bloom in what looked to be a professionally groomed garden in the front of the house. It was like something straight out of a magazine.

A sleek red Irish setter bounded toward the car, coat dripping and feet muddy. Diamond relaxed a bit.

“Whoa, Bella!” Thane said, swinging open his door. “Did Chloe leave you out in the rain? Poor baby! I'll clean you up in a minute.”

“Nice house. It looks like a museum! Makes mine look like a barn,” Diamond said as she got out of the car. The manicured shrubs and perfectly placed flowers seemed to shimmer in the rainwater, and stone walkways made the place perfect.

Thane laughed and petted the wet dog's head. “Meet Bella. After filming all those
Twilight
flicks, what other name could we give her?”

“Where are, uh, the others?” Diamond asked. She didn't see any other cars in the huge, circular driveway.

“Probably still collecting luggage.” He laughed.
“California doesn't get the idea of a ‘weekend bag'—probably they had to hire a second car just for her luggage.” He looked at Diamond and added wryly, “When you get to be a big star, promise me you'll get to shoots on time.”

Diamond managed a grin and hurried with him to the huge, carved front door, hoping the rain wouldn't mess up her hair. The dog trotted away after a squirrel.

Thane punched in a key code, listened for the tone, then opened the door. She wasn't sure, but it looked like mahogany. Thane ushered her inside with a “Welcome!” As he closed the door, he re-set the alarm.

“Won't the others need to get in?”

“I can't be too cautious. We don't want paparazzi snooping. The driver will ring when he gets here with California and Diva.”

“How would the paparazzi know?” Diamond asked.

“Oh, those girls, they hate attention, they love attention. One of them will make sure someone on the plane knows who they are, and soon texts and tweets—‘You won't believe who was on the plane with me!'—start to fly. Bingo—word's out.”

Diamond nodded.
Boy, it's a whole different world,
she thought. She looked around—the living room was also a whole different world, spacious and lovely. One entire wall was a sort of fountain, water flowing from ceiling to floor. Soft lighting made the leather furniture look inviting and comfortable. What looked to be movie scripts were stacked on a huge table.

“This is really nice,” Diamond said, running her hand
along the table's polished wood. It was silky smooth. “Where's Chloe?” She could hardly wait to meet her and her movie star friends. She couldn't believe she was just minutes away from meeting California Clover and Diva Dawson.

“Good question! Chloe!” Thane called. “Are you here, honey? Daddy's home. I want you to meet someone. Alexandria? Where are you two?”

Diamond picked up one of the scripts—it was labeled
Neverland Dancer.
She smiled, then gasped as she saw the title of the script below it. “
A Screenplay for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
,” she whispered in amazement. She carefully thumbed through the well-worn, highlighted, and underlined scripts. “Wow.” One was signed by Daniel Radcliffe. “Is this really the signature of the guy who played Harry Potter?” Diamond asked with astonishment.

“Sure. Dan's a good friend.”

Impressed, Diamond sat down on the edge of one of the couches and began to read. She'd never read a real screenplay before, but she'd seen all the movies. It was cool to see the character's words printed out—words she'd heard half a dozen times watching reruns of those films.

Thane's phone rang again. “Alexandria! Where are you? What do you mean, new shoes? She has a hundred pairs of shoes. Okay. Okay. But I brought a friend for her to meet—a girl from the high school—she'll be auditioning tonight. So be quick. Love you. Bye.”

“Shoes?” Diamond said, looking up.

“They'll be here in ten minutes, promise. I'm sorry about the confusion. Welcome to my family on audition
day. Would you like a Coke or a glass of water?”

“Yes, please, a Diet Coke. And, uh, can I use your phone to call my mom? She needs to know where I am.”

“Absolutely. Let me just get you that cola first.”

Thane went over to a bar area, opened a small refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle. He twisted the cap off, adding ice to a glass before pouring the soda. It was still fizzing when he brought it to her.

Diamond gulped it down. Pizza made her so thirsty!

Thane offered to refill it, but Diamond shook her head. He took the empty glass from her and said, “Chloe is on her way, and then the auditions for
Neverland Dancer
can begin.” For some reason his voice was sounding strangely gummy—as if he were speaking though syrup.

Diamond giggled at the thought of maple-covered lips and hands. Then she laughed out loud as she imagined the scene from the Disney version of
Peter Pan
, where seemingly perfectly normal children went flying out of their bedroom window. Willingly. With a stranger.
What's up with that?
She tried to wrap her thoughts around the idea, but her brain felt like melting marshmallows.

“I need to call my moom, my moon, I mean my muvver,” she said. Her mouth—wasn't mouthing. Ha! She shook her head, which oddly felt like it was unattached to her body—a balloon afloat in soda bubbles. She dropped the script she'd been looking at.

Thane walked over slowly and picked it up. “Are you okay, Diamond?”

“What's happing, happing, hapning to me?” she said, trying to keep her voice from slurring.

Thane picked up his phone and snapped it open.

“She's ready,” it seemed like he said.

Diamond leaned back on the sofa, her head spinning, the world spinning. She closed her eyes.

“ ‘So, Pan,' said Hook at last, ‘this is all your doing.'

“ ‘Ay, James Hook,' came the stern answer, ‘it is all my doing.' ”

—from
Peter Pan

Layla sat on the floor in costume and makeup, waiting for the others for the pre-performance activities that Miss Ginger insisted on. First practice. Then pep talk and prayer.

Mercedes slipped into the tiny room and sat beside her, stretching a little.

“You okay?” Layla asked.

“Talking to the cops freaked me out,” Mercedes confessed. “How am I supposed to dance after that?”

Layla met her eyes. “I don't know if Diamond is kidnapped or at a party with movie stars. But somehow I'm not feeling a party.” She spritzed more hair spray on her wayward curls.

“Yeah, me neither,” Mercedes admitted. “I got this bad feeling. Damn it! I never should have let her go to the food court alone.”

“Hey, you can't swallow this blame,” Layla told her. “That mall is like our second home. There was no way you could have guessed something bad would happen.”

“Yeah, I know, but I still feel responsible. I didn't need that new leotard! We shoulda stayed together. If I had just . . . ”

Trying to distract her, Layla asked, “Did Steve bring your candy?”

Mercedes looked up and gave a small smile. “Yeah. He's my sweet-talkin', sugar-coated candy man,” she said, humming an old Christina Aguilera song. “He brings me candy to every show.”

“ ‘Candyman' is one of Diamond's favorites,” Layla mused, smoothing the lines of her costume. “Her mom must be losing it. Diamond is
so
gonna be on punishment—probably till she dies!”

Mercedes sucked in her breath. “Don't say that word, girl!” She retightened the ribbons on her pointe shoes. “I'm sorry—I'm being crazy. Is your mom coming tonight?”

“I hope so. Sometimes she has to do double shifts at
the diner. It's all right if she misses this one.” Layla said it breezily, but a tinge of sadness edged her voice. “She's got my back most of the time.”

“Yeah, that's usually my dad, too. He rolls up ten seconds before the curtain rises, pulling up late in his big, loud diesel truck. I think he loves that truck more than me!”

“Not a chance. I've seen how your father looks when you're dancing, Mercedes. Like you're some kind of magical Disney princess,” Layla said, unable to keep a touch of envy from her voice.

“Hah! I hope not. Those Disney girls have, like, teninch waistlines. How do they breathe?” Mercedes asked.

“They're cartoons!”

“Duh.”

Both girls laughed, then Layla said softly, “I wish
my
dad could see me dance.”

“How long has it been?” Mercedes asked carefully.

“Six years now. He got sent away when I was ten. I should be used to him being gone, but it still sucks.”

“Does dancing help?” Mercedes asked.

“It totally saved me. It was my dad who found Miss Ginger's when I was in first grade; he's the one who convinced my mom to let me try out the classes. It's like somehow he knew that dancing made me feel real.”

“Deep.”

“He used to wait in the parking lot every night until I finished class.”

“I remember! Sometimes you guys would give me a ride home. Didn't he always have a strawberry smoothie waiting in the cup holder for you?”

“Yep.” Layla tried to smile, remembering. “He never missed a pickup. He never missed a show. And then he was gone.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mercedes asked. Other dancers were beginning to trickle in, stretching, talking quietly, preparing mentally.

“Not really. We've got enough drama going on tonight.”

“True that,” Mercedes agreed.

Still, as she stretched, Layla found herself thinking more about her dad. She had never found out all the exact details, but somehow her father had ended up being the driver while two of his friends robbed a convenience store—and one of them was armed. He swore he didn't know what they had planned to do, but the jury didn't believe him, and he'd been plucked from her life.