Getting close enough to talk to Lisa proved to be an impossible task. Every time we approached, one of her entourage blocked us off.
When lunch finally shuffled around, we were tired, frustrated, and no closer to our goal. Ivy and I were working on our game plan when Meredith appeared. Seething, she threw down a white envelope on my lunch tray.
“What exactly am I paying you for?”
Ivy snatched up the envelope, and I plucked it out of her fingers. After reading the contents, I scoffed. “This is nothing,” I said to Meredith. “They’re trying to scare you off.”
Meredith grabbed the note back and scrunched it up into a ball. “It doesn’t sound like ‘nothing,’ Howard. ‘I have more than one way to get what I want.’ It sounds like they’re getting serious.”
“There are rumors,” Delia said, popping out from behind Meredith. “People are saying Meredith hired you to find dirt on Lisa because she wants to be president.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Meredith.
“Well, obviously, yes, I do,” she said. “But not until next year. It’s all part of my twenty-year plan. First, I win—”
“We had an interesting chat with Bradley yesterday,” I interjected, wary of how long a description of a twenty-year plan would last. “He mentioned something about you buying your votes with baked goods.”
“Oh, please, he wishes he thought of that.” Meredith rolled her eyes and flicked her hair back. “The cupcakes were just a bonus. I came up with a good strategy, and I earned my place fair and square.”
“Keep reminding yourself about that. Whoever’s behind this,” I said, pointing at the scrunched-up envelope in her hands, “they’re all about cheats and shortcuts, and that’s what’s gonna get them caught.”
Meredith’s shoulders slumped. “I hope so. Have you had a chance to talk to Lisa yet?”
Ivy and I shook our heads.
“It’s been a little difficult tracking her down.”
“She has volleyball practice after school,” Meredith said. “Try catching her then.” She jerked her head at Delia, and they headed toward the student council table. Ivy and I watched as Meredith pushed her way through Lisa’s crowd of admirers to take up residence on one of the chairs.
“Do you have a twenty-year plan?” Ivy asked around a mouthful of granola bar.
“Kid, we’re lucky when I have a twenty-minute plan.”
... .- -- -..-. ... .--. .- -.. .
Due to circumstances beyond my control, Ivy and I were late getting to the gymnasium.
“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t say ‘Thank you, Ms. Kowalski’ when she handed back your essay,” Ivy said.
“Because,” I said, “she smiled at me.”
Ivy stopped in mid-rush down the hallway. “What?”
“Smiled like she’d won. I didn’t like it.” It was only October, and I wasn’t keen on the idea that Ms. Kowalski believed she was the early victor in our war, especially not if I had to deal with her in homeroom and English. I’d flipped through the essay and pointed out all the spots where my surveillance report provided superior information. She downgraded me from a B- to a C, but at least we were back on even ground.
Ivy snorted and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
I straightened my sleeve cuff and considered that. “Maybe,” I said. “But I also think I’m winning.”
We snuck through the gym door and stood in the shadow of the bleachers. Practice was well underway, and not much could be heard over the squeak of shoes, the thumping of the ball, and the girls on the sidelines shouting encouragement at the players. The coach was pacing the edge of the court, yelling out instructions. When he turned, I caught a glimpse of his face. Mr. Vannick. The man was everywhere lately.
Ivy poked me in the side. “There’s Lisa.” She pointed out a tall blonde, laughing and high-fiving another player.
One of the greatest investigative advantages is the opportunity to observe your subjects when they’re unaware of being watched. People behave more like themselves when immersed in their natural environment. Lisa reigned supreme over her home court. She smiled and bounced around. She soaked up the attention. The girl was all sunshine—until you looked into her eyes.
Lisa Grantley had a predator’s eyes. They were razor-sharp, constantly tracking those around her. Her head whipped to the right as one of her teammates tripped, missing the ball and allowing a point. The other team cheered. Lisa’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth tightened before she called out a rallying cry to her team. The ball came back into play.
I saw the moment she went for blood. The girl who’d scored stumbled on the other side of the net and the ball came Lisa’s way. She leapt up and spiked it down, hard, into the other player’s back. Lisa smiled as the girl face-planted and then quickly rearranged her features into a look of shock and dismay.
“Lisa,” Mr. Vannick shouted. “That’s not how we play here. What were you thinking?”
Lisa trotted over to the sidelines, her head bowed. “I’m sorry, Mr. V, it was an accident. I didn’t think she’d be so slow.” She snuck a look at her victim, and triumph glinted in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Mr. V, I’m fine.” The fallen player staggered to her feet and waved a hand at Mr. Vannick. I recognized her look of resignation well. Better to take a blow from Lisa as public punishment than rat on her and face worse away from prying eyes.
Mr. Vannick wasn’t convinced. “I don’t ever want to see behavior like that again or you’re suspended from the team,” he said to Lisa. “Do you understand?” Lisa nodded meekly, and Mr. Vannick blew his whistle. “That’s it for today.”
The team scuttled off in a huddle while Lisa prowled after them. It wasn’t merely one player; she had the whole team under her thumb. I grabbed Ivy, and we snuck off to wait outside the girls’ locker room.
Despite the power play we’d just witnessed, Ivy was all excitement.
“I’m meeting Grantley royalty,” she said, pacing around the hallway, patting her cheeks and forehead with every turn. “I’ve got so many emotions running through me right now. Wonder. Excitement. Anxiety.”
I had always found sarcasm to be much less amusing when you were on the receiving end. “Are you done?” I asked from my post, leaning against the wall.
“Almost,” Ivy tilted her head to the side. “How’s my hair?”
“Brown.”
“Right on.”
“Remember, you’re taking the lead on this,” I said. “There’s no way Lisa’s talking to me when she thinks I’m Team Meredith. We’ve only got one shot at her. Make it count.”
“I’m not going to screw this up, Howard,” Ivy said, all of her teasing light fading away. “I won’t let you down.”
Lisa Grantley came barreling out into the hall and stopped short when she spotted me.
“You.”
I grinned. “Me.”
Her lip curled and she straightened every blue-blooded inch in her body. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Snaking a pack of Juicy from my pocket, I cocked my head toward Ivy. “You might change your mind when you find out who my friend here is.”
That put a hitch in her stride. It’s a rare person who can resist a hint of mystery. She glanced at Ivy.
“Ivy Mason,” I said as I wrangled a piece of gum from the battered pack, “meet Lisa Grantley. Lisa, meet the newest reporter for the Grantleyville Middle School Blog.”
Lisa plastered on the winning smile every Grantley was taught at birth. She gave Ivy a slow once-over and tapped her fingers on her hip. “Mason,” she said. “You moved here with your dad, right? You’re staying with your grandmother on Greenfield Road.”
“Yes,” Ivy said slowly. “How did you know that?”
“I’m a Grantley,” she said. “It’s my job to know what goes on in our town.” Lisa brushed at her bangs and smirked. “You should know that.”
I pushed myself away from the wall and strolled over to stand beside my partner. “Ivy’s doing a feature piece on all the student council members.”
“I thought I’d start with you,” Ivy jumped in. “You are the president, after all.”
“Okay, but only for a few minutes,” Lisa said and smoothed out her shirt. “I’m meeting someone soon.”
Ivy dug her notebook out of her bag and flipped through, pretending to consult her notes.
“You come from a long line of Grantleys who held student government positions,” she said. “What’s it like being part of such an impressive legacy?”
Lisa posed prettily, regardless of the fact neither of us had a camera. She spoke as though reading from the Grantley Book of Public Relations. “It’s an honor, not only to have been chosen by my fellow classmates but also to be keeping the tradition of Grantley leadership alive.”
Ivy stared at Lisa, processing the weirdness spewing out of her mouth. Lisa dropped her pose, and irritation flickered across her face. “Aren’t you going to write that down?”
“Oh, right.” Ivy made a few scribbles on her paper. “Next question: How do you view the council’s role in our school?”
“The council is vitally important to our school,” Lisa said, her eyes growing brighter as she warmed to the topic. “We are the face, heart, and mind of the student body. We are the agents of change and the custodians of student welfare—seriously, you’re not writing any of this down? This is good stuff.”
Ivy passed her notebook over to Lisa. “Maybe you should do it. I’d hate to miss anything.”
Lisa snatched the pen from Ivy and began scrawling across the page, muttering to herself. I tamped down the impulse to jump in. Ivy may have different methods than me, but she was still getting results. After underlining her last few sentences, Lisa tossed the notebook back to Ivy and gave the pen an appreciative glance before pocketing it. “That should cover everything,” she said. “I’d work on my interview skills if I were you. Not everyone’s as approachable as I am.”
Ivy cleared her throat and peeked over at me. I nodded. Time to take things up a notch.
“One more question, if you don’t mind,” Ivy began. “You made quite a few promises in your campaign speech.” Lisa stiffened as Ivy flicked through her pages again. “A coffee bar in the cafeteria and a dance every month. Neither of these has happened so far. Can you tell me when you’ll actually follow through?”
Advancing on Ivy, Lisa towered over her target. I tensed, ready to intercept if necessary.
“I believe I said I would lobby for a coffee bar. I’m currently in talks with the vice principal about it. As for the dances,” she said, smacking the corner of Ivy’s notebook. “There’s been resistance with regard to spending our money on what the students want. Some members are excessively concerned with the ‘budget.’” She did air quotes around the word “budget” like it was a made-up issue.
“Do you have any comments on the rumors about friction between you and Meredith Reddy?” Ivy asked.
“What is this?” Lisa charged toward me. “What’s Meredith up to? I know she hired you.”
I held up my hands to ward her off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lisa and I stood nose to nose as she backed me into the wall. “I am not someone you want to mess with. Make me ask again and I won’t do it nicely. Why are you really here, Howard Wallace?”
Ivy stepped in between Lisa and me, clutching her notebook as a shield. “He helped track you down for the interview. That’s all. Why don’t you look at this as an opportunity to set the record straight? Since everyone’s talking about you guys anyway.”
Lisa laughed bitterly. “You want me to confirm to everyone that we’re fighting? To say that Meredith is the worst mistake this school ever made and that she’s ruining everything? Not a chance.” A small smile crept out, the same one she wore after beaning that girl with a volleyball. “Off the record?”
Ivy nodded enthusiastically.
“I don’t think that she’ll be with us much longer,” Lisa said.
“I really hope you mean not with you on the student council as opposed to with us in this world,” I said, only halfway joking. Grantleys were bred for ruthlessness.
“Very funny, Howard,” Lisa said.
“Who’d replace her?” I asked. “Bradley Chen?”
Lisa smiled broadly and looked at her bare wrist. “Why, look at the time,” she said. “I’m late for my meeting.” She flounced off down the hall.
I looked over at Ivy, who had pulled out a new pen to finish up the last of her notes. “What do you think?”
“Honestly?” She tapped her notebook against her leg. “I think it doesn’t add up.”
“Explain, young apprentice.”
“First of all, check out this handwriting.” Ivy flipped to the page Lisa has left her answers on. “Way too messy to be the same person behind those tidy little blackmail notes.”
I hated to admit it, but I was impressed. “Nice bit of business,” I said. “Getting a sample of her writing like that.”
“Told you I’d picked up some tricks,” Ivy crowed. “Super pro detective, right here.”
“Calm down, super pro,” I said, ducking her high fives. “What else isn’t working for you?”
“Telling us she thinks Meredith’s going to get the boot?” Ivy snorted. “If she was really behind it, don’t you think she’d have played it closer to the vest?” She gulped down the rest of her laughter. “Unless she is, and she’s actually that dense.”
“Or that confident we can’t tie her to it,” I said. “But I agree, there’s more going on here.” We started walking down the hall, and I thought about our interviews over the last couple days.
“Bradley’s not strong enough to have done this on his own, but Lisa’s too reckless. She was ready to take my head off back there,” I said. “This plan’s been acted out carefully and methodically. Whoever our blackmailer is must have some serious restraint.”
“You think there’s someone else involved?”
“It’s entirely possible.” I nodded. “There must be another angle we haven’t considered yet. We need to start looking in other directions.”
Turning the corner, I ran smack into the iron bulk of Mr. Vannick. He pinned me with a face-melting glare. “Howard Wallace. What do you think you’re doing?”