By Friday afternoon everything was set.
Zoe had put all the right numbers on the Sherry Clutch stationery, and she had had fifty sheets printed up on good-quality paper at a Kwik Kopy shop on Lexington Avenue. She’d also had twenty-five large self-stick address labels printed.
Natalie made some last-minute changes to her novel and then printed two double-spaced copies of the manuscript, one for the publisher and one to keep for herself. The manuscript was ninety-seven pages, and the title page said:
The Cheater
by Cassandra Day
Looking at it gave Natalie goose bumps.
The first phone call to Hannah Nelson would be important, and Zoe was worried.
Zoe and Natalie were in gym class on Friday afternoon. Zoe said, “So, when I call your mom today, she’s got to say it’s okay for me to send her the manuscript, and then when she gets it, she’s got to want to read it.” Zoe was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “My dad told me that when you want a person to agree with you, never ask a question they can answer by saying no. But I don’t get how to do that, do you?”
Natalie shook her head and shrugged. They were both quiet, sitting on a rolled-up tumbling mat, waiting for their turn on the balance beam.
Then Natalie had an idea. She said, “How about if you don’t talk to her at all?”
Zoe said, “What do you mean?”
And when Natalie told her, Zoe nodded and said, “Of course! That’s it! Why didn’t I think of that?”
Natalie grinned and said, “Because sometimes brilliant writers have to help their stupid agents, that’s why.”
• • • • •
By 3:10 the Deary School had gotten pretty quiet. At exactly 3:15 Natalie called her mom from the pay phone on the wall outside the office.
“Hannah Nelson.”
“Hi, Mom, it’s me. I’m still at school, so I’m going to be a little late. How’s your day going?”
As soon as her mom answered, Natalie turned and gave a thumbs-up to Ms. Clayton, who was watching from down the hall. Ms. Clayton walked briskly to the Linden Room, stuck her head inside the door, and said, “Okay, Zoe. Natalie’s talking to her mom.”
Zoe sat down at Ms. Clayton’s desk and quickly dialed seven numbers on her cell phone, then pushed the Send button. Ten seconds later she heard Natalie’s mom’s voice: “You’ve reached Hannah Nelson at Shipley Junior Books. I’m on another call or away from my desk right now. Please leave your name and number after the tone and I’ll call you back.”
Zoe had practiced her agent voice for the past two days, driving Natalie nuts with it. Zoe always talked fast anyway, but Zee Zee talked even faster. Zee Zee’s voice was also deeper, but most of all it was louder. Zoe had decided that Zee Zee should be loud.
So after the beep on the voice mail Zee Zee jumped right into her prepared message. Ms. Clayton stood guard in the hallway outside the Linden Room, and she could hear Zoe’s performance right through the door: “Hannah—this is Zee Zee Reisman from the Sherry Clutch Agency? Listen, I’ve got this terrific manuscript by an author named Cassandra Day. You’ve got to read this. I’ve got a messenger bringing it to your office this afternoon. You really have to read this. Even though this is her first novel, I know a lot of editors will be interested, but Cassandra wanted Shipley to see it first because she likes a lot of the other books you’ve done there. I’m in and out a lot, but you can phone me at 212-555-8878. If I’m not in, the office will beep me. Let me know what you think as soon as you can, ’cause like I said, this is a hot one. Thanks a lot—bye.”
Zoe’s heart was racing as she hung up the phone.
Ms. Clayton walked back to the corner of the hallway and waved to Natalie. Natalie ended her talk with her mom by saying, “Well, I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, so I’ll be there in about half an hour or so.”
Her mom said, “No need to hurry. I’d like to get out of here early this afternoon, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Letha’s on the warpath, and my phone’s been ringing all day long. So bring your homework, honey. See you soon.”
Natalie got off the elevator at Shipley Junior Books at 4:25. She walked to the desk and handed a thick brown envelope to the receptionist. Natalie smiled and said, “A messenger brought this—it’s for my mom. Do you need to check it in, or can I take it right back to her?”
He looked at the address label and said, “All it needs is a date stamp and my initials.” The stamp made a mechanical ca-chonk sound as he pressed it onto the front of the envelope, and then he scribbled his initials below the date. Now the package looked official. “Here you go.” He handed the envelope back to Natalie, then pushed the security button to open the door for her.
Natalie wound her way through the maze to her mom’s office. Her mouth was dry. Even though she’d been here a hundred times, she felt like a spy sneaking into a strange building.
“Hi, Mom.”
As her mom swung her chair around and smiled, Natalie glanced at the phone console on the desk beside the computer screen. The Message Waiting light was dark. That meant her mom had already listened to Zee Zee’s message.
“Here,” Natalie said, and she handed the envelope to her mom. “This is for you.”
Hannah Nelson looked at the envelope. The large address label was printed in bright green ink. She read the return address aloud. “‘The Sherry Clutch Literary Agency’? I just had a message from this agent, but I don’t think I know her. . . . Oh, well.” And she dropped the envelope onto the papers beside her computer. “Could you get me a juice or something, Natalie? I didn’t even stop for lunch today.”
Natalie returned with two bottles of apple juice and some shortbread cookies. Her mom held up her bottle for a toast, and when Natalie clinked it, her mom said, “Here’s to our weekend!”
And at that moment Letha walked in. She stepped across the space carefully and leaned over to look at Hannah’s computer screen. Natalie caught the sharp scent of Letha’s perfume and took a step backward.
With a strained smile Letha said, “I love the weekend too, but I don’t think it’s quite here yet. Have you double-checked all those revisions, Hannah? The production manager is calling me for that text every half hour, and we can’t get out of here until it’s released.”
Glancing around Hannah’s workspace, she snatched up the new envelope and said, “What’s this?”
Hannah said, “That? It’s just a manuscript. Must be a new agency—Sherry something.”
Letha read the label. “Sherry Clutch . . . oh, yes, I believe I’ve heard of her. She’s supposed to be very bright. Listen—buzz me the second you’re sure all those revisions check out, okay? And I want you to give this a look over the weekend.” Letha dropped the envelope on Hannah’s lap and swept out of the office.
Hannah shook her head and gave Natalie a wry smile. “So much for the weekend, eh? Listen, I’ve got to get back to work. Tim is probably gone by now, so you can hang out over there, okay?”
Natalie said, “Sure, Mom.”
As she walked over to Tim’s cubicle, Natalie tried not to smile. The editorial director of Shipley Junior Books had just pretended that she knew all about the Sherry Clutch Literary Agency. And then she had ordered her best editor to read a novel written by a twelve-year-old.
Alone in Tim’s office, Natalie grinned. For the first time ever she was glad that her mom’s boss was a fire-breathing, stuck-up know-it-all.