The words blurred in front of my eyes.
The letters were thick. Drippy. Like drops of blood on snow.
I rolled up the paper and stumbled to the phone. First I called Cassie. Then Lenny.
Cassie’s mother told me Cassie was on her way to my house. Lenny’s brother said the same thing.
When I hung up the phone, they were both on the front porch.
They both held rolled-up notes—just like mine.
Cassie unrolled her paper on my kitchen table. The same threats. The same spray paint. And the same handwriting.
“Do you recognize the writing?” Lenny asked. We didn’t.
Lenny slammed his fist into the wall. “Who is doing this?” he cried.
“You tell us,” Cassie answered nastily. “You don’t still think it’s Mr. Crowell, do you?”
He ignored her sarcastic remark. “Do you have any idea, Diane?” he asked.
“When I got home last night, I’m positive I saw Bryan drive by,” I told him.
Lenny and Cassie stared at me without saying anything.
I continued. “Bryan drives a blue Toyota. It was his car. I’m sure of it. He could have been spying on us.”
“But why would he send us these notes?” Cassie demanded. “What would he hope to gain?”
Lenny sighed. “Maybe he’s just twisted.”
“We need to find out if Jordan got one of these, too,” I said. I glanced at Cassie. “Do you know where he is?”
She shook her head. “I called him when I got my note. But his mom said he was over at a friend’s house, working on a science project. I don’t know who.”
“Let’s go look for him,” I suggested, rolling up my banner.
Lenny had his mother’s car with him. We piled in and drove into town. We cruised up and down Division Street twice. Then we stopped at the mall and searched there. Finally we spotted Jordan’s Jeep parked outside The Corner, a hangout near school.
“It’s about time,” Lenny muttered, pulling open the door to the restaurant.
I stopped short. I expected to see Jordan. I never expected him to be sitting with Bryan.
They shared the same booth. And the same plate of greasy fries. Jordan leaned across the table, deep in conversation with Bryan. Talking in low voices. They didn’t even notice that we stood in the doorway.
My mind reeled.
Jordan and Bryan had never been good friends. Why would they hang out together now? What did they have to say to each other?
Whoa. Wait, I thought. Does Bryan know about our Night Games because Jordan told him? What were they planning?
Why would Jordan do this to us?
I stalked over to their table. “What are you doing with Bryan?” I demanded.
Jordan jumped. They both blinked at me in surprise.
“What’s your problem, Diane?” Jordan snapped. “We’re lab partners in chemistry.”
“Aren’t we allowed to discuss our project?” Bryan snapped. “Or do you want me to stay away from all your friends, too?”
“You are acting weird, Diane,” Jordan put in. “Why are you so upset?”
Huh? We were all in huge trouble because of the Night Games—and Jordan couldn’t guess why I was upset?
“You found the spray-paint can last night,” I told Jordan.
“So?” he answered. “What about it?”
I pulled the rolled-up note from my pocket and slammed it onto the table. I spread it out so both of them could see the threatening message.
“Today we all got these horrible, spray-painted notes,” I explained. “You sent them. Didn’t you?”
Jordan snorted. He casually sipped his soda.
“Well?” I practically shouted. “Did you? Did you send these threats?”
A few kids in the next booth turned to stare at us.
Jordan’s gaze leapt from me to Cassie to Lenny, and then back to me.
“All right, Diane,” he said. “You guessed it. It was me. I sent the notes.”