The Quick Fix
Authors: Jack D. Ferraiolo
A
T
F
RANKLIN
M
IDDLE
S
CHOOL
,
a.k.a. “the Frank,” Vincent biggio rules the halls with a team of water-gun-toting goons who will squirt anyone who crosses them faster than you can yell, “PEE-PEE PANTS!” Helping the innocent avoid this fate keeps seventh-grade private eye matt stevens as in demand as a pop quiz answer key. His latest client: Melissa Scott, idolized cheerleader and girlfriend of basketball star Will Atkins. Melissa hires Matt to follow Will, who's been acting jumpier than a pixy stix addict after a fix. matt's first clue: a mysterious wooden knickknack that
everyone
in school seems to be after.
Unfortunately for Matt,
everyone
includes Vinny Biggs himself, who offers to pay Matt big money to recover the item in question. Seems like someone is using it to blackmail Vinny. But how can a knickknack be used to blackmail the most ruthless criminal at the Frank, and who would even dare?
Matt's on the caseâif he can stay dry long enough.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN: 978-0-8109-9725-7
Text copyright © 2012 Jack D. Ferraiolo Book design by Chad W. Beckerman
Published in 2012 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
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To Mom and Dad,
who are probably still shocked that
I turned out to be a writer . . .
stood out from the Monday morning hallway traffic like a gazelle in a herd of cows. She had big blue eyes and blond shoulder-length hair, carefully styled to look carelessly towel-dried. She was thin and athletic, and I'm pretty sure her legs would've kept going if the floor hadn't been there to stop them. She was tapping her right foot, making the light blue miniskirt of her official Franklin Middle School cheerleading uniform bounce in a rhythm that hypnotized every age-appropriate male within four hundred yards. Her name was Melissa Scott. She was as
close to a celebrity as you'd find at the Frank, and at the moment, she was leaning against my locker.
“If you're here for my school spirit, you can have it,” I said. “I haven't used it in years.”
She looked at me as if she couldn't figure out why I was talking to her. Then it dawned on her. “Matt Stevens?” she asked.
“You don't know? I'll try not to take that personally.”
She pushed her back off my locker, and I could've sworn I heard the door sigh in disappointment. “You're a detective, right?” she asked in a loud whisper.
“I have my moments.”
“I want to hire you.”
“Sorry,” I said, “but none of my cheers rhyme and I look lousy in a skirt.” I opened my locker and put my jacket and bag inside. I was reaching for my first-period books when she grabbed me by the shoulder. She turned me to her and leaned in so that her face was barely an inch away from mine.
“Please,” she said in the same loud whisper as before. Her breath smelled like a field of spearmint. She pulled away, scanning the hallway nervously. “I'm sorry I grabbed you.”
“Don't be. My social status just jumped a couple of levels.”
“I'm so nervous. I don't know what to do ⦠He's been acting soâ” She stopped herself. “I want to hire you,” she repeated.
“Yeah, you mentioned that. For anything in particular?”
“I want you to follow my boyfriend, Will Atkins. He's the captain of the basketball team.” As stressed as she was, I could tell she still enjoyed the fact that she could put “my boyfriend,” “Will Atkins,” and “captain of the basketball team” in the same sentence.
“He's been acting strange lately,” she whispered.
“Well, listen ⦠I'm touched that you thought of me, but I'm going to have to pass.”
“What? Why?”
“I don't take cases that start with âI want you to follow my boyfriend.' All the paths are rocky and lead to the same place.”
She seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.
“I hate to be the one to break this to you,” I said, “but there are other pretty girls at the Frank.”
She rolled her eyes. “It's not like that.”
“Yeah, it never is ⦠until it is. And then it's
exactly
like that.”
She leveled a gaze at me that I'm pretty sure left scorch marks on the lockers behind me. “You know those girls
around here ⦠who are sweet and prim and proper? The type of girl who could never, ever even imagine
kissing
a boy?”
“Yeah?”
She smiled and leaned into me, putting her mouth as close to my ear as she could without actually touching it. “Well, I'm the other type.”
Her breath tickled, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She pulled away from me, a high school smile on her seventh-grade face.
“If you say so,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice from cracking. “So, tell me what you mean by âacting strangely.' Has he started wearing a gown and high heels to practice? Or is he just having a lot more arguments with his imaginary friend, Reggie?”
“He's been quiet,” she answered. “And nervous. And some days it looks like he hasn't slept the night before.”
“Maybe he's worried about his crossover dribble. You want my advice? Ask him. Because if you hire me, I can only sneak around so much before
I
eventually ask him. You might as well cut out the middleman and save yourself a couple bucks.”
“I did ask him. He said it was nothing.”
“Well, there you go. Sounds like he and I agree.”
“I'd like to be sure.”
“How would you feel if you paid me and I didn't find anything?” I asked.
“I'd feel relieved!” she snipped. “How else would I feel?”
“You'd be surprised how many people want something bad to happen, just so they can feel like they got their money's worth.”
“If you don't want the job, I'll find someone else,” she said, but she didn't move. As far as bluffs go, it wasn't a very good one.
“I just want you to know what you're getting into,” I said. “I don't want to get to the end and have you start haggling over the price.”
She laughed as if I'd just insulted her. “You're not exactly going to break my bank.”
“Shouldn't you know my rate first before you decide that?”
“Fine. What is it?”
“Two-fifty a day, plus expenses,” I said.
