Framed & Dangerous (9780545443128) Read online

  Violet rolled her eyes at the sight of me.

  “Word has come from Principal Plati that the dance will not be canceled,” Fiona said. “So it’s time for decorations!”

  The crowd clapped and cheered. Fiona took charge, breaking everyone into stations. I was assigned to glitter duty, which was perfect. My job was to go from table to table, tossing my glitter on any decoration that needed it. So I could move around the room, listen to conversations, and keep my eyes open for clues.

  Fiona instructed everyone to spread out their supplies. People had been put in charge of bringing paper, glue, scissors, and other stuff. I wandered around with my tub of glitter, stopping to sprinkle it on stars here and there. A few girls wore Delanceys, but — since most girls don’t wear the same shoes every day — some who wore them yesterday weren’t wearing them today. Which made it even more confusing.

  By the time the meeting was finishing up, the room was a disaster area. Backpacks, papers, and remnants of cutouts were strewn about everywhere. I stayed behind with a few others to help clean up.

  Mrs. Haymon, the teacher-advisor, held up the recycling bin as I dumped a bunch of cut-up paper into it. “Thanks for helping, Norah,” she said.

  Even though I wasn’t feeling very cheery, I gave Mrs. Haymon a smile and said, “No problem.” She was one of my favorite teachers. Her mind was a lot like mine — focused on logic and reason — and we’d had a couple cool talks about astronomy in the past.

  I bent down to pick a pile of trash off the floor, when I saw something that made my heart lodge in my throat.

  It was a piece of notebook paper that must have fallen out of someone’s book or backpack during a supply rummage. It was only a girly doodle of a heart with a boy’s name in the middle. Nothing earth-shattering.

  Except the name was Zane.

  And the nice happy heart had a giant, dark X crossed over it.

  Apparently, I wasn’t the only one on the Dance Committee with Zane on the brain. But this person seemed to have … conflicted emotions about him.

  I looked around the room. There was no way to tell who it came from. Half the committee members had already left. But as I looked down at the note again, something in the back of my mind tingled. I squinted and stared until I realized what was nagging at me.

  I’d seen this handwriting before.

  “Someone else on the Dance Committee likes Zane,” I said, handing Darcy the note. I’d hurried to her house with my heart racing and we were now in her basement. “Well, liked is probably the more appropriate word. Now they seem to hate him.”

  Darcy examined the note for a minute, deep in thought. Then she looked up at me. “The field house fire ties in to the Prom Killer after all.”

  I gulped. “Say what?”

  She dropped the note on the couch and started pacing. “This whole time we’ve been thinking, ‘Why would anyone do this? Everyone likes Zane.’”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

  She opened her arms wide. “Maybe that’s it then. Someone likes Zane. Maybe someone jealous enough to want to ruin his life because he likes … someone else instead.” She made googly eyes at me rather than saying my name.

  I blushed, but then thought for a moment. “Helen was so jealous over Charlie taking Betty to the prom that she set out to ruin their night.” I pointed to the note. “And this person found out that Zane was going to ask me to the dance and decided if she couldn’t go with him, no one could?”

  Darcy nodded and rubbed her chin. “That would make sense. How would this other girl find that out, though?”

  I had a theory. “Can I borrow your cell phone for a minute?”

  Darcy pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over. I scrolled down to Fiona’s number and hit CALL. After two rings, Fiona picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Norah. I’m using Darcy’s phone.”

  I could hear the smack of bubble gum. “What’s up?” she asked between chews.

  “Did you tell anyone anything about Zane and me?”

  The chewing stopped. “Like what?”

  “That he might like me or something like that.”

  The line was silent for a moment. Then Fiona said, “Promise you won’t get mad?”

  I sighed. “I promise.”

  “I may have said that you and Zane were totally crushing on each other and that he was definitely going to ask you to the dance.”

  I smacked my face into my palm.

  “I’m sorry!” Fiona said. “But you know how I am with gossip. It’s like a compulsion. I can’t not talk about these things with people.”

  “Fine, fine.” I wasn’t too mad. She was about to give us our biggest clue. “Okay, Fiona, this is very important. You need to remember. Who did you tell?”

  “Um, it was at the Dance Committee meeting the week before the fire.”

  “Okay …” I said. “And who did you tell?”

  A pause. “Everyone at the meeting.”

  After a lot of groaning on my end and apologizing on her end, I got off the phone and filled Darcy in. She rolled her eyes about Fiona’s big mouth, but said, “That could be the arsonist’s motive, though.”

  Helen’s words echoed in my head. Jealousy will bring about your darkest hour. Was someone really jealous enough — of Zane and me — to commit a crime?

  “So how do we figure out who it is?” I blurted.

  “We need a Partners in Crime brainstorm,” Darcy replied. “Hang on.”

  She went into the corner and dragged a big whiteboard on an easel into the center of the room. She uncapped one marker and handed me another.

  “Where did this come from?” I asked.

  “Found it at a yard sale,” she said. “I knew it would come in handy. Detectives use these all the time on crime shows. It helps to write down all the clues and then you can see patterns you didn’t realize were there.”

  I was willing to try anything. “Okay, where do we begin?”

  She spoke out loud as she wrote. “The arsonist is a girl, and she’s on the Dance Committee.”

  The marker squeaked as she scribbled.

  CLUES

  GIRL

  DANCE COMMITTEE

  “She wears Delanceys,” I said.

  Darcy wrote: DELANCEY SHOES.

  “What else do we have?” she asked.

  I looked at the note in my hand and remembered my realization from the meeting. “The handwriting is big, round, and looping. And notice the tiny heart doodled inside the e on Zane.”

  “Great!” Darcy said. “Distinctive handwriting!”

  “There’s more,” I said. “I first noticed this strange e on the dance posters that were hung in school … the morning of the fire.”

  Darcy’s eyes gleamed. “So whoever wrote this note also put up the first posters.”

  “Yep,” I said. “And whoever did it came into school extra early on that day to hang them. But when Fiona asked at the Dance Committee who did it … no one raised their hand.”

  “Because that would place her at school early the morning of the fire,” Darcy said, marker raised in the air. She turned to the board and wrote: HUNG THE DANCE POSTERS.

  Then she started a second column and wrote:

  TIMELINE

  STARTED FIRE

  HUNG POSTERS

  E-MAILED ZANE FROM COMPUTER LAB

  “It looks like she came in early to start the fire,” I said, “but she needed an alibi in case she got caught on school grounds.”

  “So she hung the posters in case anyone saw her around,” Darcy said. “And then she had extra time to e-mail Zane from the computer lab while everyone else was gathering outside.”

  “Exactly.” I tapped a fingernail on the board. “Now for suspects.”

  I made a third column with the word SUSPECTS.

  “You know who’s on Dance Committee and has the right shoes?” Darcy said with one eyebrow raised.

  I shook my head. “Don’t say Maya.”

&nb
sp; “Maya!” Darcy cried.

  I glared at her.

  “What?” Darcy made a face. “She’s a legit suspect. She and Zane have gotten close, being neighbors and all.”

  “She’s also neighbors with Hunter,” I pointed out. “Maybe she has a crush on him, too?”

  Something flashed in Darcy’s eyes. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared. “Hunter’s not the one in trouble right now,” she said.

  I gave an annoyed sigh. “Maya was excited to tell me Zane’s secret was that he liked me. She wasn’t jealous.”

  “Fine, then,” Darcy said reluctantly. “Is there anyone on Dance Committee who does act jealous?”

  Violet’s sneer immediately came to mind.

  Darcy pointed at my face. “You’re thinking of someone. Who?”

  “Well, Violet clearly has a problem with me. But I assumed it was because my dance theme got chosen over hers.”

  Darcy narrowed her eyes. “That could be it. She is a girl who likes to get her way. But her anger about the theme could also be covering up her true jealousy … over Zane.”

  I stepped back and looked at our work on the board. It was frustrating to be so close yet still so far. “We have it,” I said, clenching my fist. “We know everything this girl did and when she did it. We just don’t know for sure who she is.”

  Darcy paced back and forth in front of the board, then suddenly stopped. She picked the note back up from the couch and tapped her finger on the unique e.

  A slow smile spread on her face. “We don’t know who she is, but we know how to catch her.”

  Fiona stood waiting outside the classroom Thursday after the last bell.

  “Thanks for calling an emergency meeting of the Dance Committee,” I said breathlessly as I ran up to her. The day had flown by as I made sure every part of our plan was in place.

  We were going to catch the arsonist. Now.

  Assuming everyone did their part. This was a group effort.

  “Is everyone coming?” I asked.

  Fiona nodded quickly. “I pretended to be in full-blown panic mode and made sure everyone knew they had to come. Or else.”

  No one wanted an “or else” from Fiona. I was confident of that.

  Members started streaming in, so we had to stop chatting. “You know what to do?” I whispered.

  “Just leave it to me,” Fiona said. “This will be my crowning achievement in seventh-grade acting.”

  And with that, Fiona charged into the room and waited at the podium. I took the seat closest to the door. Mrs. Haymon was sitting in her usual seat, but she had no papers with her to grade. Just an empty desk. She gave me a single nod and I returned it.

  When the room was full, Fiona banged her gavel.

  “What’s going on?” Violet snapped. “I thought we finished all the decorations yesterday.”

  Fiona waved her hand dismissively. “If we want the dance to be okay, then, yes, we finished. But I want nothing less than spectacular, and I’m sure the rest of you agree.” She eyeballed the crowd until every girl nodded in agreement.

  “Wonderful,” she said. “Moving on. The first thing we need to create today requires beautiful handwriting. So I would like everyone to come up to the board. You should all write one word, the same word, so we can compare and select the person whose handwriting has the … flourish that I’m looking for. The word shall be” — Fiona cast a quick look and a wry smile at me — “dance.”

  I heard a few disgruntled mutters, but everyone lined up and took their turn at the board. Maya was first, wearing her Delanceys as usual. My stomach clenched, waiting for her to finish. She stepped away and I examined her dance.

  No heart in the e. I let out the breath I’d been holding in.

  Several girls started writing at the same time. I stared at their shoes and their handwriting in equal measure. No fancy e from any of them.

  Last came Violet and Amanda. They walked to the whiteboard together, as they did almost everything else, selected markers, and started writing. When they finished and stepped back from the board, Fiona’s eyes darted to mine.

  My hand gripped my stomach, and I had to force myself not to audibly gasp.

  The fancy e was on the board, with the little heart drawn inside.

  We’d found her. I knew who had set the fire. I only hoped my secret weapon would come through.

  Mrs. Haymon stood and said, “Meeting adjourned.”

  “What’s going on?” someone whispered.

  “What about the new decorations?”

  “We’re finished here,” Mrs. Haymon said. “You can all go home. Except for you and you.” She pointed at me and one other girl. “You’re coming with me to the principal’s office.”

  My legs were trembling as I followed Mrs. Haymon down the hall with the girl who’d set fire to the field house. There were so many things I wanted to say and ask, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. I had to be patient.

  My mind whirred, putting it all together. I almost couldn’t believe it. I’d suspected Violet, but it was actually her best friend. Amanda never stuck out to me as guilty because she’d been so … nice.

  But the evidence was all there. Amanda was on the Dance Committee. And unlike Violet, who Fiona said had her own sense of style, Amanda wore Delanceys. And she put a happy little heart inside of her lowercase e’s.

  Now that I knew, little things were making more sense. Like that time Amanda and I spoke in the hallway and she’d said she was sure Zane “didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” It had seemed like an innocent comment at the time. Now it had much more meaning. Amanda clearly hadn’t meant for the fire to get so out of control. Well, it was too late now.

  We reached the office waiting area and there sat Darcy, her knee nervously bobbing up and down. Her eyes widened as she saw Amanda with me. She hadn’t been totally sure that we’d find the culprit. But the plan had worked, thanks to Mrs. Haymon.

  I had met with her early in the morning and explained our predicament. As a math teacher, Mrs. Haymon appreciated logic and reasoning. So I’d laid everything out for her. We knew Zane had been framed because of the e-mail, and I could attest to the fact that his wallet had been missing before the fire. We had motive from the note and crime scene evidence with the footprint. All we had to do was use the process of elimination to match the handwriting and we had our arsonist.

  To be doubly sure, I told Mrs. Haymon that she could check the computer lab records. Though Darcy and I couldn’t access them, Mrs. Haymon could. To use one of the computers, you have to log in with your school user name and password. Mrs. Haymon could check to see who logged in during the early morning hours the day of the fire. And if that person also had the telltale handwriting at the meeting, then we’d know for sure. I also explained how I’d already been to Mr. Plati once to plead Zane’s case. It would mean a lot more coming from Mrs. Haymon.

  Mrs. Haymon had agreed to look into the records and speak with Mr. Plati. And — if the handwriting showed up on the board during the meeting — we’d take it from there.

  So now our entire case rested on what happened in the next five minutes.

  We walked with Mrs. Haymon and Amanda into Mr. Plati’s office, and we all took seats across from his desk. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I just hoped it didn’t all backfire.

  Mr. Plati clasped his hands on his desk. “Amanda, do you know why you’ve been called into my office?”

  “No, sir,” she said, though her voice was trembling.

  “There isn’t … anything you’d like to tell me?” he said, giving her one last chance to come clean.

  I closed my eyes and hoped that she’d confess. Do it, I silently said. Confess and this will all be over.

  “No,” Amanda said. “Nothing.”

  My heart sank.

  Mr. Plati stood and crossed his arms. He always looked more intimidating when he did that. Even I was scared, and I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “We have a problem
then, Amanda,” he said firmly. “Did you know that I have security cameras in and around the school?”

  “N-no,” she nervously replied.

  “And we just got finished going through the footage for the morning of the field house fire. And we were able to narrow down who was here early. I saw you, on video, hanging posters.”

  She nodded. “F-for the d-dance.”

  “Right.” Mr. Plati lowered his voice a couple octaves. “I saw something else on the footage, too. It would be much easier on everyone involved if you’d admit it yourself before I have to say it. Would you like one last opportunity to do that, Amanda?”

  She looked over at Darcy and me, and the guilt was written all over her face. She blinked her suddenly wet eyes and turned back toward Mr. Plati. In the smallest voice, she said, “It was me. I burned the field house down.”

  My mouth went dry. Hearing the words come out of Amanda made it real.

  “Why?” Mr. Plati asked.

  With a trembling hand, Amanda tugged her hair behind her ear. She cast a sidelong glance at me, her face bright red. “I heard Fiona talking about how Zane Munro liked Norah and that he was going to ask her to the dance. And I was just so mad.”

  “Because you like him,” Darcy said.

  “Yeah,” she snapped. “And I couldn’t believe he liked Norah the Nerd over me.”

  Since she was in the middle of a confession and all, I decided to let that one go.

  She continued, “On that Friday, his wallet fell out of his pocket in class. I picked it up and — for some reason — I kept it. Then, Monday morning when I came in early to hang the posters … I started the fire and dropped his wallet so he’d be blamed. That way he couldn’t go to the dance with Norah.”

  “But the entire field house burned to the ground,” Mr. Plati said angrily.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She sniffled. “I set a small fire in a trash can, with napkins and perfume. I never expected the fire to go past the trash can. I thought the sprinklers on the ceiling would go off and put it out. So, no real damage done, but Zane would get in trouble.”

  “But the sprinkler system wasn’t finished yet,” Mr. Plati said. “It wasn’t on.”