The Big Splash (4 page)

Nobody knew how to react. Kevin was especially anxious to talk to her. He had been carrying a torch for her since the moment he met her, giving me at least one reason why Kevin was so eager to join Vinny's crew at the expense of our friendship. Word around school was that Kev and Nikki had been on the verge of going out when summer came. Apparently, he had tried to contact her all summer, but she kept blowing him off. I was at my locker, around the corner from them, when he caught up to her on the first day back, looking for an explanation.

“I'm sorry, Kevin, but I've changed,” she said. “I should have told you sooner, but—”

“You're kidding, right?” he shouted. I could have heard him from my house. “What do you mean you've ‘changed'?”

“Please don't yell at me.”

“I'm sorry … I just … I don't know what to think. I thought you liked me.”

“I do.”

“This is not how you act when you like someone.”

“I don't think I like you the same way you like me.”

“Oh.”

“You're a nice guy Kev, but …” She trailed off, leaving the sentence open-ended. Only an idiot wouldn't know where that “but” was heading.

“Is it him? Are you seeing him now?” he asked. I held my breath, waiting for a response. Who was “him”?

She didn't answer. “The subject is closed, Kevin,” was all she said. There was no mistaking the shift in her voice, from sweet and sympathetic to hard, flinty, and slightly annoyed. Nicole's appearance may have changed, but underneath it all, Nikki was still there. And Nikki wasn't about to be pushed around, no matter how she was dressed.

There was a tense silence, then a sharp
bang
as Kevin punched one of the lockers. I peered around the corner. Kevin's face was bright red. He was breathing heavy and rubbing the knuckles on his right hand. Nicole was staring at him calmly, as if they were discussing an upcoming algebra test. They stayed like that for a full minute, neither of them speaking. Finally, Kevin stormed off, most of his questions left unanswered.

He wasn't the only one Nikki had cut out of her life. She avoided all her past associates, trying to strike up friendships with some of her other classmates. These relationships always seemed forced, as if she was in a play she had never rehearsed and the other cast members were too afraid to tell her that she didn't know her lines.

The reason behind Nikki's sudden transformation was obvious to everyone but the dumbest of kids. She was scared, but not for herself. The day that “Nicole” replaced “Nikki” just happened to be the same day that Nicole's little sister, Jenny, started sixth grade at the Frank. Nicole wanted to shield Jenny from the life she had led, and there was no way to do that if Nikki kept taking jobs from Vinny. It would be like a butcher trying to raise his kid vegetarian.

I didn't have any siblings, younger
or
older, but I knew enough in my time. Older ones tended to want to either guard or lord over their younger sibs, while younger ones just wanted their own lives. This wasn't true in all cases, just most.

As I was mulling all of this over, the bell rang, snapping me back to the present and sending me to my last class of
the day. I looked at the clock. Forty minutes until I faced the former Nikki Fingers, the fastest and most beautiful hit kid this school had ever known. Forty minutes for me to reflect on my life and get a few things in order—just in case the job went wrong. I was by no means defenseless, but I was a realist. As good as I was, I was no match for Nikki if she wanted to play rough.

soon as class let out, I hustled over to my locker and dumped everything inside. My plan was to go to Nicole with empty hands and a clear conscience, and hope that she was in a good mood. I was just about to close my locker door when Elizabeth Carling, Kevin's younger sister, slid up beside me. I only jumped a little bit … like four feet.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Liz.”

She was a year behind Kevin and me, not that it
mattered much. She was smarter and savvier than most kids, and even some of the teachers. Her hair was jet black and cut short in a boyish bob. Her eyes were large and brown; her face was porcelain perfect. She smelled like the first day of spring. Nikki Fingers may have been an exotic beauty, but nobody made my stomach do belly flops like Liz. I had come to realize, months after my friendship with Kevin dissolved, that it was Liz I missed more. She had always hung out with us, eager to join whatever crazy scheme we had thought up, no matter how rough. Kevin would always try to stop her. He doted on Liz, and never wanted to see her get hurt, but she would always ignore him and join us anyway. She was small, cute, and about as fragile as a tanker truck.

“Didn't see much of you this summer,” she said.

“I was busy.”

“Private-eye stuff?”

“Something like that.”

“Humph,” she said in the dismissive tone of a queen speaking to one of her subjects. She reached across me and grabbed a pretzel from the bag I kept on the top shelf of my locker.

“Go ahead,” I offered, “help yourself.”

“I could tell you wanted to give me one. I'm psychic.”

“Oh yeah? What am I thinking right now?” We stared at each other as if she were trying to read my thoughts and I was trying to stop her. If she succeeded, I was in trouble.

“You … vant … to give me … another pretzel,” she said, trying to sound like a gypsy.

“Wow. That accent is horrible,” I said, laughing.

“I curse you and your salty snacks!” She chomped down on the pretzel, chewing violently, with her mouth open.

“Classy. You should do that for your yearbook picture.”

She laughed, then chewed a little more discreetly. “So what kind of stuff?” she asked, going back to her normal voice.

“Huh?”

“What kind of private-eye stuff?”

“I can't tell you. Client confidentiality.”

“Client confidentiality,” she mimicked.

“Sure, make fun of my standards … but when you hire me to find your missing model horse, you'll be glad I have them.”

“Missing model horse? Ugh. I don't think so.”

“Uh, Liz? I've been in your room. You hide them well, but they're there.”

“Only so that I'll appear ‘girly' enough for my mom.”

“Good luck convincing other people of that.”

“Point taken.” She licked the salt off her fingers. “So why do you do it? The whole private-eye thing …”

I shrugged. “Because I'm good at it. The same reason you play chess.”

Liz smiled at me. She was a champion chess player, state ranked. Some people said she was a prodigy. Her dad drove her to tournaments twice a month, where she proceeded to beat people three to four times her age.

“I play chess because I love it
and
I'm good at it,” she said. “Big difference.”

I shrugged.

“Unless you love being a detective …”

“I don't discuss love in the school hallway.” After I said it I realized that that could have more than one meaning. I quickly turned to my locker. My face felt hot enough to bake cookies on. I grabbed a pretzel, even though the last thing I needed at the moment was something salty … all the moisture in my mouth had evaporated. I fiddled with
the pretzel for a moment, then gathered my courage and turned back toward Liz.

She didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. She only “humph”-ed again, reached around me, and grabbed another pretzel.

“I think I have some tape in my backpack,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “We could tape the bag right to your mouth. Save you the trouble of having to reach for them.”

She laughed and threw the pretzel at me. “You're such a gracious host.”

“Host? Nobody invited you over,” I said with a smile.

“Are you working on a case right now?”

I didn't want to start in with the whole Vinny story. Liz wasn't a huge fan of Vinny's despite, or maybe because of, her brother's involvement. Plus, I wasn't exactly proud of my own compromised principles. “Maybe.”

She looked at me suspiciously, as if I were a cat with feathers around my mouth sitting under an empty birdcage. “Client confidentiality?” she asked.

“Possibly.”

“Oooh … the mysterious Matt Stevens.”

“You'd better believe it.”

“What if I didn't?” She had a wry smile on her face. She seemed to be inviting me to take a leap, to say something that could move our friendship in another direction. Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. Between my earlier “love” comment and my impending face-off with Nikki, I was in no shape to judge what was going on between us just then.

“I have to go,” I said, saving myself the embarrassment of making the wrong decision. I grabbed the bag of pretzels and tossed them to her. “Something to remember me by.” She had a confused look on her face. I closed my locker and walked away before she could ask me another dangerous question.

“See you around, Stevens!” she called out.

I had to push Liz out of my mind and get focused, and there would be no hope of doing that if I turned to look at her again. So I waved without turning around, put my head down, and kept walking.

Nicole's locker was a couple of hallways over from mine. I took my time getting there, trying to get my nerves in check, but it was no use; I was jittery, like a little kid with a three-candy-bar-a-day habit.

I turned the final corner, and there she was: Nicole
Finnegan, standing at her locker with her back toward me, wearing dark brown pants and a beige top. On most girls, brown looked plain and blah. When Nicole wore it, brown became your new favorite color. She was talking to her sister, Jenny. Jenny looked like the kind of girl who longed to be in one of those sappy romance novels—the kind where all she did was ride a horse and make eyes at the handsome stable boy. She was holding a notebook to her chest, the front of which was covered with pictures of horses, and I smiled at the confirmation of my first impression. She was a little shorter than Nicole, with big brown eyes and long hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was definitely cute, but next to her sister, she looked ordinary, like a Ford parked next to a Ferrari.

“You don't know what he's like,” Nicole said, softly but firmly.

“Stop trying to control me!” Jenny yelled back. “You already screwed up your own life! Leave mine alone!” Jenny stormed past me, eyes smoldering like fresh bullet holes. Nicole still had her back to me. She hung her head down a little, rubbing her eyes with her hand.

“What do you want, Stevens?” she said, without
looking. It was like trying to sneak up on a three-headed cobra.

“Umm … hey … uhh, I've got a message from someone.” My voice sounded like an equal mix of nerves and puberty.

“Who?” she asked.

“You know who.”

She turned to face me. There was something in her eyes that wasn't anger, but was close enough for my taste. “I know you don't mean
him.
He and I have a deal,” she snarled. Her left hand moved slowly toward the squirt gun she had concealed in her locker, the one she denied she still had. I raised my hands in the universal sign of surrender, hoping she wouldn't just pop me anyway. I felt like I was on a life raft that was slowly but steadily losing air. If I didn't plug the hole fast, I was going to drown.

“He sent me because he said he respects you, Nikki—”

“Nicole,” she said. “I haven't been Nikki for a long time.”

I could feel my raft sinking. “Right … sorry. Nicole,” I stammered. “You have a trinket of his. A good luck
charm. He didn't think it meant much to you anymore, so he wants it back.”

“And you're here to get it by any means necessary?” Her hand kept moving steadily toward her squirt gun. My life raft was completely deflated now and I was barely treading water. I became distinctly aware of the silence behind me. All action in the hallway had stopped. Kids were trying to decide whether I was crazy or stupid to rile Nikki up. I felt my scalp tingle as I tried to figure out the same thing, but deep down I already knew the answer: I was definitely stupid. I said a silent prayer for my salvation, and followed it up with a silent curse on Vinny and all his descendants. Then I tried to reinflate my life raft.