"No," I said. "I think it's kinda nice." And I did. My mom isn't famous for her pies. No, she's famous for defusing a nuclear device in Brussels with only a pair of cuticle scissors and a ponytail holder. Somehow, at that moment, pies seemed cooler.
Josh started to turn, but Liz was still dangling off the roof, so I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind, "Was Keith surprised?"
Well, I didn't know who Keith was or why the Joneses were throwing him a surprise party, but that was good enough to stop Josh and make him say, "No, he's never surprised. But he fakes it pretty good."
I was something of an expert at faking it myself— especially when I saw Bex lower herself to Liz's level—the two of them swinging in midair as Bex struggled to fix Liz's tangled cables—but Bex still managed to give me the big thumbs-up and mouth, He's cute!
"You wanna go get a Coke?" he asked, and I thought, Yes! There was nothing in the world I wanted more. But behind him, Bex was taking aim at the heel of his shoe, firing a tracking device into the back of his Nike.
I heard a subtle sound as the device buried itself into the rubber sole, but Josh didn't even bat an eye. Bex looked totally proud of herself, despite the fact that Liz was still spinning like an out-of-control piñata.
"So this is where you live?" I asked, as if I didn't know.
"Yeah. All my life," Josh said, but he didn't sound proud of it—not like Grandpa Morgan when he says he's lived on the ranch all his life—like he has roots. When Josh said it, he sounded like he had chains. I've spent enough time studying languages to know that almost any phrase can have two meanings.
Behind Josh, Bex must have fixed Liz's cable, because I heard the whizzing sound of two people in near free fall and then the clanging racket of someone landing in a pile of metal trash cans.
I was ready to knock Josh unconscious and run for it, but he waved the noise away and said, "This neighborhood has all kinds of dogs."
"Oh." I sighed with relief. There was more clanging, so I said, "Big ones, I guess."
I didn't breathe again until I saw Bex clamp her hand over Liz's mouth and drag her into the bushes on the far side of the yard.
"Oh, um, I told my mom I'd go get her jacket out of the car," I said, stepping toward the dozens of vehicles that lined the street.
"I'll go with—" he started, but just then a boy appeared in the street and yelled, "Josh!"
Josh looked at the boy and waved at him.
"You go on," I said.
"No, that's—"
"Josh!" the boy called again, drawing nearer.
"Really," I said, "I'll catch up with you over there."
And then, for the second time, I found myself running away from him, trying to avoid the party.
I ducked behind an SUV, repositioned its side mirror, and watched as the boy met up with Josh in the middle of the street. He tried to take the pie from Josh, and said, "Did you bake that for me? You shouldn't have!" Josh punched him hard on the shoulder. "Ow," the boy said, rubbing his arm. Then he gestured toward where I had disappeared in the dark. "Who was that? She was kinda cute."
I held my breath as Josh followed his friend's gaze and then said, "Oh, nobody. Just some girl."
Chapter Eleven
Summary of Surveillance Operatives: Cameron Morgan, Rebecca Baxter, and Elizabeth Sutton (hereafter referred to as "The Operatives")
After observing a Gallagher Academy operative (Cameron Morgan) on two routine assignments, The Operatives concluded that a young man (known at the time only as "Josh," aka Tell-Suzie-she's-a-lucky-cat boy) was a POI (Person of Interest).
The Operatives then began a series of recon operations during which they observed the following:
The Subject, Josh Adamson Abrams, resides at 601 North Bellis in Roseville, Virginia.
Known associates: a scan of The Subject's online activity revealed that he routinely e-mails Dillon Jones, screen name D'Man,(also of North Bellis Street)—typically in regard to "really awesome" video games, "lame" movies, "my stupid" dad, and school assignments.
Occupation: sophomore at Roseville High School-home of the Fighting Pirates. (But evidently not fighting too hard, since a further search revealed that their record is 0-3.)
GPA: 3.75. The Subject exhibits difficulty in calculus and woodworking. (Rules out career as NSA code breaker and/or home improvement television "Sexy Carpenter Guy." Does NOT eliminate possibility subject looks hot in a tool belt.)
The Subject appears to excel at English, Geography, and Civics (which is great because Cammie is English-speaking and very civil!).
Family:
Mother, Joan Ellen Abrams, 46, housewife and very experienced pie baker.
Father, Jacob Whitney Abrams, 47, pharmacist and sole proprietor of Abrams and Son Pharmacy.
Sister, Joy Marjorie Abrams, 10, student.
Unusual financial activity: none, unless you count the fact that someone in the family is way too into Civil War biographies. (Can this be a possible indication of Confederate insurgents still living and working in Virginia? Must research further.)
Respectfully submitted, Cammie, Bex, and Liz
"I'm telling you it doesn't mean anything," Bex said as we stood together in front of the mirror, waiting for the scanner to slide across our faces and the light in the eyes of the painting to turn green. I hadn't mentioned Josh, but I knew what she was talking about. Bex read my reflection in the mirror, and I realized that the scanner wasn't the only thing that could see inside me.
The doors slid open, and we climbed in. "We've got the computer connection," Liz offered. "Financial records, for example, can illustrate many—"