12

Devon was truly grateful for the way that Grandma Betty had invited her into her home. Devon had been trying her best to comply with Grandma Betty’s rules and to be helpful and sociable and responsible. But sometimes she felt a bit overwhelmed by the old woman’s expectations. To always get home in time—not only to eat dinner but to help prepare it—and to obey an early curfew as well as to keep up with the assigned chores that Grandma Betty kept posted on the fridge . . . It sometimes felt a little like boot camp. But Devon told herself it was worth it. Plus she believed that Grandma Betty really cared about her. It felt like she had Devon’s best interests at heart. That was worth a lot.

Besides, Devon reminded herself as she peeled carrots, it was better than living in a small, run-down house where slimy Rodney could show up whenever he pleased and stay as long as he liked. Out of curiosity, Devon had ridden her bike past her old house on Sunday and there, sure enough, was that big, ugly red truck parked in the driveway like he owned the place. Well, fine—he could have it if he wanted. She pretended like she didn’t care . . . but it still hurt.

“I’d like to meet your new friend,” Grandma Betty said as she poured chicken broth into a pot. “What’s Amanda’s last name?”

“Norton.”

“Norton?” Grandma Betty got a thoughtful look. “Is that the same Nortons who own the dry-cleaning business?”

“No. Amanda’s dad is an attorney for the city, and her mom is an interior designer.” Devon could feel the pride in her voice as she shared this information. She’d never had a good friend with parents this impressive before. It felt good.

“They sound very interesting.” Grandma Betty slid the chopped potatoes into the pot. “Have you met her parents yet?”

“Not yet, but I’ve been in their house.” Devon described how beautiful the Norton home had been. She’d wanted to tell someone about this before, but none of her friends seemed interested. And she hadn’t wanted to make Grandma Betty feel bad—as if Devon thought that Amanda’s house was so much grander than here. Even if it was.

“Her parents must be very wealthy.”

“Oh yeah. They are.”

“Do you think that being wealthy is very important?”

“It beats being poor.”

Grandma Betty chuckled. “Yes, I can understand that.”

“I plan on being rich someday.”

“If you had to choose, which would you rather be—rich or happy?”

Devon dropped the last peeled carrot in the bowl. “Well, if I was rich, I think I would be happy.”

“I wonder if Amanda’s parents are happy.” Grandma Betty started to chop the carrots.

“Why wouldn’t they be? They have everything.”

“Maybe, but I’ve noticed something over the years. Some people—not all of course, but I’ve known people who have a lot of material wealth—also have a lot of stress and obligations attached to their holdings. Sometimes I’ve wondered, when it’s all weighed out, is it worth it? Especially when they don’t seem particularly happy most of the time.”

Devon considered this. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that some rich people aren’t happy. But I doubt they’d be any happier if they were poor.”

“Good point.” Grandma Betty grinned at her. “You’re a smart girl, Devon. I’m sure you’ll figure these things out.”

After dinner, Devon was surprised to hear the doorbell ring. Grandma Betty didn’t usually get callers at night. Thinking it was one of Betty’s friends, Devon continued working on her homework. She’d gotten a little behind in some classes and was trying to make up for it now.

“Hello?” Emma poked her head into the room. “You busy?”

Devon looked up. “Just doing homework. What’s up?”

“Mom sent me over to deliver some stuff to Grandma—things for a mission project at her church. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Devon set down her book.

“Well, I know you’re friends with Amanda now, and that’s cool. But this thing with Felicia . . . well, it’s getting kinda complicated. She really is innocent and she’s been the victim of bullying and—”

“Are you accusing Amanda?”

“No. Not Amanda.” Emma narrowed her eyes. “Can I trust you?”

“Of course. We’ve been friends, like, forever. I’m living with your grandmother. Why would you not be able to trust me?” Devon stood up and folded her arms in front. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

“Okay.” Emma just nodded.

“So what is it?” Devon was growing more curious.

“It has to do with Tristin.”

“Tristin?” This was even more interesting. Especially since Tristin considered herself to be Amanda’s best friend. Something that Devon wouldn’t mind seeing changed.

“I know you’re friends with her too.”

“Not as much as you’d think.”

“How so?”

Devon considered asking Emma how much she could trust her, but knew that would sound hypocritical. “For starters, Tristin doesn’t really like me all that much. I know she doesn’t appreciate that I’m friends with Amanda. Or that Amanda and I are doubling up for the Christmas ball.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

“So what’s up with Tristin? Did she bully Felicia?”

“Yes, and we have real proof.” Emma told her about the saved MyPlace page. “It’s not the same page that Tristin showed you, but it’s got enough mean stuff on it to get Tristin into trouble at school.”

“Then why not go forward with it?”

“We will. But if we could just get our hands on that really nasty page—the one Tristin showed you, the one I’m sure she made. Well, that would just blow this whole thing wide open.” Emma told Devon about how Tristin was after the same guy who had been befriending Felicia. “Coincidence?”

“Interesting . . .”

“Remember how we used to play detectives when were little?” Emma asked.

Devon laughed. “Yeah. I’d always make you play Watson to my Sherlock.”

“Right. Well, I wondered if you could get your hands on Tristin’s iPhone or iPad or whatever she’s using. And do a quick check for that page and if you find it, send it out so we can download it.”

“Yeah, and while I’m at it I might discover the cure for cancer too.” Devon rolled her eyes. “Emma, do you think I can just nab Tristin’s phone out of her purse and do all that?”

Emma leaned forward and looked intently at Devon. “I think that if anyone can do it, you can.”

“You’re nuts.”

“You won’t even try?”

Devon pressed her lips together. “I didn’t say that.”

“So you will?” Emma looked hopeful.

“If I see a safe opportunity—which I seriously doubt will happen—I’ll do what I can. Okay?”

Emma threw her arms around Devon, giving her a tight hug. “Thanks, Devon. I knew you’d want to help. You try to act so tough sometimes, but you’ve got a good heart. I knew it.”

Devon tried not to act too surprised. “Well, I won’t promise you anything.”

“I know.” Emma jingled the car keys. “I better go. I promised to come right back. Mom doesn’t usually let me drive at night.”

After Emma left, Devon wondered what she had promised—what she could be getting herself into. But she’d said if there was an opportunity . . . What were the chances of that?

The next day, Devon tried not to think too much about her promise to Emma. It wasn’t that she wanted to let Emma down, but she just didn’t think it was possible. Even in the locker room after conditioning, when she thought she might get a chance to sneak Tristin’s phone out of her bag, it was impossible. But Devon liked a challenge. She decided to try another venue.

“I was on MyPlace last night.” She said this casually to Amanda, almost confidentially, although she knew Tristin was listening. “I got to thinking about creating a new page . . .” She lowered her voice. “Not about me, but about someone else.”

“Who?” Tristin asked with interest.

“No one you know,” Devon said dismissively, turning her attention back to Amanda. “Anyway, I know your dad’s a lawyer and I wondered if what I wanted to do was legal or not.”

“What do you want to do?” Amanda stopped brushing her hair, peering curiously at Devon.

“There’s this girl from my old school—a total witch. Anyway, I happened to see a nasty post on her page last night. She’s so mean. I got to thinking, now that I’m not in the same school as her and no one would suspect me, it might be fun to create a MyPlace page on her. Something that would show her true colors to everyone she’s been picking on. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would get me into real trouble, though, you know?” Devon paused, glancing around as if she was truly worried. “I wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”

“Then you should just leave the whole thing alone.” Amanda tossed her brush into her bag. “That’s what my dad would tell you too, Devon. Don’t even go there.”

“Okay.” Devon nodded eagerly. Mostly she wanted to remain agreeable to Amanda. “I definitely won’t do it then.” As she buttoned her top, she tossed a quick glance at Tristin. Unless Devon was mistaken, Tristin was studying her closely.

“I don’t know why anyone would take chances like that,” Amanda said as she went over to the mirror to check her makeup.

“Bad idea. I get it,” Devon said. Normally, Devon would follow Amanda over there, touching up her own makeup beside her. Instead she decided to take her time, slowly folding her workout clothes, neatly placing them into the basket and fiddling with the zipper on her bag as if it wasn’t working right.

“You can do it without getting caught,” Tristin said quietly as she shoved her workout clothes into her own basket.

“What?” Devon acted oblivious.

“Create a page.”

Devon wrinkled her nose as she reached for her bag. “Like Amanda said. Bad idea.”

Tristin shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Even if the girl is a witch . . .”

Devon acted like Tristin had struck a real chord there. “She really is. In fact, this girl’s one of the reasons I came here. She was so horrid to me. And it sounds like she still is that way.”

“Then get her back.”

Devon glanced over to where Amanda was putting on mascara. “What about what Amanda said? Her dad’s a lawyer. I don’t want to get in trouble. I’m not even very good at managing my own MyPlace page. Really, I should just forget it. Stupid idea.”

“What’re you two jabbering about?” Amanda called out cheerfully.

“Nothing.” Devon grabbed up her bag and went over to join Amanda. She felt like she had hooked Tristin and was slowly reeling her in. It felt good! But to make it work, she’d have to play it just right. She’d have to make Tristin trust her, let her think she was helping her. Her last class of the day was drama and Tristin was in it. That would be her big chance. Hopefully, Devon wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

Sure enough, Tristin came straight to her as soon as Devon got to drama class in the auditorium. First Tristin made small talk since others were around to hear, but when it was just the two of them, Tristin lowered her voice. “Want me to help you?” she offered.

“Huh?” Again Devon played stupid.

“You know, to make a MyPlace page on that mean girl.”

“Oh, I don’t know. After what Amanda said—”

“Amanda doesn’t know everything.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You won’t.” Tristin shrugged. “But fine . . . if you’re scared.”

Devon stood up straighter. “You don’t know me very well. I don’t scare easily.”

After they took their turns onstage, they arranged to meet together in the back of the auditorium where they would pretend to practice their lines. Instead, Tristin explained to Devon how it was done. She took her step by step, explaining how to use Photoshop and everything. For some reason she seemed very eager to have Devon do this. Perhaps it was a setup.

“But I don’t really know how to use Photoshop,” Devon told her.

“I do,” Tristin said. “You can ride home with me and I’ll help you do it. We’ll get it up tonight if you want.”

“Really?” Suddenly Devon felt even more worried. Besides the possibility that Tristin was setting Devon up, which seemed more than likely, Devon realized that Tristin would expect her to have an actual person—a high school girl with an actual MyPlace page that they could nab photos from. Who could she use? If she did use someone, would she be able to get it off in time to avoid real trouble? Maybe she was in over her head. And yet, it felt like the adventure was on. How was she going to back down? Still, she would need to proceed carefully—and without trusting Tristin.