I’m standing outside the door of Emerson’s gym, looking in. Nervously. My eye is twitching like a camera shutter set on sports speed.
There are a gazillion middle-school students, parents, teachers, judges. Stick me in there and it’ll be a gazillion and one. That’s a lot of bodies. One body can hide and eavesdrop in the middle of a lot of bodies. I might actually be able to pull off this undercover operation. My eye twitch slows down.
I step in. It’s noisy. Just as you would expect with all those bodies. It’s hot. Just as you would expect with all those bodies.
There’s a big box of safety glasses with a sign: SAFETY GOGGLES MUST BE WORN IN THE PIT. I strap on a pair. It’s a disguise of sorts. This mission is doable. My eye twitch disappears.
The gym is divided in half. One half is a big rectangle with a two-foot-high Plexiglas fence around it. The field where the bots compete. The other half is divided into three rows. Each row is made up of about twelve team booths, six on each side of the row. The booths are constructed of plastic pipes and decorated with team banners and homemade posters. Inside most booths is a bunch of people with screwdrivers and drills, poking and prodding their robot. At the front of each booth, there’s a basket of free team buttons.
Head ducked, I lurk at the end of each row, peering through the crowds to find the Donner booth. I need to sneak into the back of their stall before anyone from my school sees and identifies me. I figure I’ll hide there for the evening, listening for any plans about The Ruler.
“Mary, finally, you’re here.”
With a scream, I jump.
“We’ve been looking for you.” Claire’s right in my face. With her shiny black hair totally straightened, the long side looks longer and the short side looks shorter. Add in a white and turquoise tie-dye T-shirt with a blazing fireball on the back and DONNER DYNAMOS in black letters across the front. Claire’s got a real robotic-warrior thing going. “Where’s your team shirt, Mary?”
“Dirty laundry,” I mumble. I’m in jeans and a pastel pink blouse. Why? Because pink isn’t a Donner school color, and pink isn’t a Saguaro school color. Plus, pink goes well with my skin tone.
Claire frowns. “Here’s the schedule I’ve made up for everyone.” She pulls a sheet off her clipboard and hands it to me. “Your responsibilities are highlighted. And there’s a note to remind you to bring the bling to our next meeting. We’ll glue it on before we crate our bot.”
I read the sheet. The eye twitch makes a comeback. “Claire, why am I mostly in the Saguaro booth? On spy duty.”
“That’s plan A,” Claire says smugly.
I throw my hands up in the air. “But I’m over there more than anybody else. By a bunch.”
“You’re new to the Donner Dynamos. Judges are visiting the booths. They have the right to ask any team member any question. And we get judged on the answer.” She flips the longer side of her hair back and it gleams under the fluorescent lights. “Imagine if they asked you a question?”
I glance back down at the paper. “What exactly is ‘driving time’ anyway? ’cause that’s what you scheduled yourself for.”
“The driver handles the controls. So I’ll be manning the remote that maneuvers our bot during the actual competition. I have the most experience driving. If you’re interested, you can try that position next year.”
Next year, schmext year. I want to grab her clipboard and whack her over the head with it. Repeatedly.
Claire points across the room. “The Saguaro Cacti are the next row over. They’re number 9141. We’re down this row. See our sign?”
“Yeah.” I can definitely see their lame-o poster-board sign with team photos glued on in a circle around a hand-drawn fireball.
She glances at her watch. “You better head over now to the Saguaro booth. Bryce’ll show you what to do. Don’t leave till Austin gets there. He’s your relief.” She fiddles with the clip, making sure the remaining papers are secure. “Mary, does your cell have a decent camera?”
I’m walking away and nodding. After a few steps, I veer off to the opposite side of the room. I can so not kick it at the Saguaro booth with Bryce.
I hang out by the fence surrounding the field, sort of watching the competitions. There are four bots in the field at a time, working together in pairs. You drive your bot around the field, sometimes even racing. You pick up plastic rings and drop them on these peg thingies. You can even remove rings your opponents put on. It’s all about getting points. There’s lots of cheering. A noisy buzzer blares when the match is over. The sound system starts up, blasting loud music.
Under different circumstances, it might be fun. But not this evening. In my mind, I’ve pretty much gone over all the angles, and I’m blowing this pop stand. I can’t chill with the Saguaro team because they’ll out me to Bryce. I can’t chill with the Donner team because Claire’ll just send me over to the Saguaro booth. So I can’t investigate. So I’m leaving. A good detective knows when to cut her losses and head home to finish her homework and catch some TV.
I should’ve gone to the movies with Josh. Instead he might actually be there with Candy. Hopefully, Polly Paulson knows her psychic stuff. I briefly squeeze my eyes shut. Not thinking about relationships right now. I just want out of here.
Hunched over and my chin leaning on my chest, I slink along the Plexiglas fence around the field toward the outside door. I’m totally focused on that door, my exit to freedom. And safety.
“Sherry! What a marvelous surprise,” The Ruler says, all bright and cheerful and full of competitive energy. She’s striding along in front of the Saguaro Cacti dolly + robot. Behind her is the entire team. A sea of purple, yellow and black T-shirts with a cartoony robot cactus on the front.
Yikeserama!
“How wonderful of you to come to support us.” Beaming, The Ruler turns toward her team. “Isn’t this great? We have our first groupie.”
Everything feels all slow-motiony, even my eye twitch. All buddy-buddy, Junie and Nerdy Nick are pushing the back of the dolly. Junie shoots me worried looks. Tongue-Stud Girl marches at one side, a tool belt clanking around her skinny waist. Honor Roll Girl marches on the other side, intent on her calculator.
No Bryce. A faint flicker of hope ignites in my chest. If I can make it to the exit …
The Saguaro Cacti join the lineup to check in for field time. Honor Roll Girl lags behind, frowning at her calculator. I inch, ever so slowly, like I’m in Jell-O, toward the door.
“Sherry.” The Ruler hands me her clipboard. “Hold this for a second, would you?”
Bryce jack-in-the-box pops up from behind a huge gray trash can.
I freeze, my back up against the Plexiglas. A sitting duck.
He points his phone straight at me. Click!
My mind is totally blank. Like I’m taking a math test. I can’t think of a single way to salvage the situation.
The Ruler finishes tinkering with the robot’s arm, then takes back her clipboard. “Thank you.”
Bryce skulks up to Honor Roll Girl. “Do you know her?” he asks, giving me a suspicious glare.
Honor Roll Girl doesn’t even meet his eyes, just keeps on punching long strings of numbers into her calculator. She delivers my death sentence. “Uh, Sherry Baldwin. She goes to our school. Ms. Paulson’s her stepmother.”