Chapter 11

The Lance and Jimmy Show

image

“Hey, we all thought you got arrested,” Lance chuckles when he finally opens his front door. “Did they take your shirt as evidence?”

“No, I haven’t been arrested, I’m helping the police with a case,” I say, bending the truth just a bit, thinking it might help me convince Lance to use his Internet skills to dig up some background for me.

“Man, you look like a stick figure wearing shoes,” Lance laughs.

“Just listen to what I have to say!” I demand. “Mrs. Bagby had a valuable painting ripped off last night at the museum downtown.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near that museum last night!” Lance snaps defensively.

“I don’t think you took it, for heaven’s sake!” I shout. “I just need something from you.”

“Do you want some beef jerky or something?” he asks. “I think I can see your heart beating in your chest.”

“Not exactly…,” I burble like an idiot, my mouth watering at the thought of food, even if it’s the kind that tastes like dried-up squirrels.

“We need you to gather some background about Mrs. Bagby’s painting and the artist on the Internet,” Hailey says from just inches behind me. I try not to flinch, but my shoulders jump a little despite my best efforts.

image

“Yeah, you’re great at researching stuff,” I say, trying to win him over. “Your report on the guy who invented the spork was amazing.”

“I made that stuff up,” he whispers, looking back over his shoulder. “I forgot to do the homework, and I thought my turn wouldn’t come until Monday. So I thought up most of that stuff on the spot.”

“You made up your report?” I gasp.

“Quiet!” Lance hisses. “I don’t want Jimmy to hear.”

“Jimmy?” Hailey and I ask at the same time.

“Oh, yeah…Jimmy Chee is spending the night at my house.”

It takes me a moment to absorb this startling fact. “You’re having a sleepover with Jimmy Chee?” I gulp.

Lance’s grandma barely even lets me step into the house, let alone spend the night. The information hits me like a sleeping bag full of rocks. Lance has been my best friend since first grade, and he’s never invited me to a sleepover!

Like a bad penny, Jimmy Chee appears behind Lance in the doorway.

Lance clearly notices the surprise on my face. “Jimmy’s stepdad is having shoulder surgery today,” he explains. “His mom asked my grandma if he could spend the night so his dad can moan and complain in peace without some kid irritating him every second of the day. Jimmy can get under your skin like nobody’s business.”

image

“Did you know you forgot to put your shirt on?” Jimmy asks, proving Lance’s point beautifully.

Nobody answers him. We stand frozen in awkward silence. You could cut the tension with a spork.

“We better get going,” Hailey says, grabbing me by the shoulder. “We have a grandpappy waiting,” she sneers at Lance and Jimmy.

“What the heck is a grandpappy?” Lance asks, truly confused.

“Will you help me?” I ask quietly, anxious to get back to my sinking ship but more anxious to get some background for my case.

Jimmy clears his throat. “Hey, I thought we were making snickerdoodles!”

“You’re making cookies?” I ask in a voice that’s similar to the hissing sound a beanbag makes when your fat uncle sits on it.

Hailey waves a hand in front of Lance’s face. “Are you helping or not?”

image

“Okay,” Lance grumbles, simply to put an end to the awkward tension between us. “I’ll get started first thing in the morning.”

“You’ve got sixty minutes,”

I say, handing him the folded-up sticker from the museum. I turn and head for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Behind me I hear Hailey giving Lance our dad’s cell phone number and Lance suggesting that he send over a couple dozen snickerdoodles to put some meat on my bones.

When Hailey finally joins me in the car, I breathe a sigh of relief. Just then the car stalls and my grandpa can’t get it to start again. As the engine hacks, gasps, and splutters at the curb, Lance and Jimmy Chee stand in the doorway, watching as my ship takes on more water. I wish Lance would stop staring and get to work on gathering background.

I sink in my seat.

I have so much more to do, and so much farther to sink, that I honestly don’t think I’ll know when I hit bottom.