Double-Crossed (9 page)

I burst out laughing, partly because it was funny and partly because I was relieved. If he had kissed me, I don't actually know what I would have done. I've never had a real kiss before.

“No, Sammie. Nobody laughs at the Human Torch,” he said, a little hurt. “Of all the superheroes, he is my favorite.”

“I'm sorry, Oscar,” I said. “It's just that no one has ever said ‘flame on' to me before.”

“Then you are missing a lot,
mi corazón
.”

Wait. Did he actually call me that? Yes, he did. Was he being funny or was he being serious? I wish I understood Spanish. Or boys. Or both.

As we headed out to Candido's truck, I kept thinking about how much Oscar loved superheroes. At the exact moment when I felt like he was going to speak from his heart, instead he spoke in the voice of a superhero. I understood that. For him, superheroes were something much more than entertainment. He loved those guys so much—they were with him all the time, in his heart and his imagination. He even wanted to create new ones when he grew up. He spoke through them, felt powerful through them. If I were disabled and had trouble just walking, I would love superheroes, too. I would dream of being able to fly, or burst into flames, or have powers that would make me strong and mighty.

Oscar had picked the strong and mighty as his best friends. So what if they weren't real?

When Alicia arrived, we all climbed into Candido's truck and drove to the club so he could drop me off and pick up Eddie. When we pulled up in front, I said a quick good-bye to Oscar and jumped out to tell Eddie it was time to go. I pushed open the gate, and inside the usual things were going on. Jillian, Brooke, and Lauren were sitting at one of the beach tables, looking at old issues of
People
and
Us Weekly
magazines. The boys were playing beach volleyball, and Lily and Charlie were out there with them. Lily was on the same team as Eddie, and Charlie was on the same team as Spencer. My dad must have been giving a tennis lesson on the courts, or he would have been out there shouting at Charlie not to injure herself before the tournament.

But the amazing thing was Eddie. He was on the beach in the middle of the game, laughing and high-fiving and fist-pumping with the guys like he had been one of the SF2s all his life. Even Jared and Sean were acting like he was their new best friend. Since when had he become the flavor of the day?

“Hey, Eddie, Candido's waiting for you in the truck,” I called, walking out onto the sand.

“Oh, don't go yet,” Lily begged.

“He has to,” I answered a little too sharply. I don't know why I resented the fact that Eddie had become such an instant SF2 favorite. He had a right to make friends. Still, my heart was with Oscar, who was sitting out in the truck with only his uncle and cousin for company. He had the same sweet personality as Eddie, the same handsome face, the same kind heart. He just happened to get a bum leg. It wasn't fair.

“I'll go tell Candido that we want you to stay,” Jared said to Eddie. “He'll say yes. After all, the guy works for us. He says no and he's fired.”

That did it. I lost it.

“Candido doesn't work for you,” I barked. “He works for the whole club. You can't fire him, Jared. And just because your parents have enough money to pay dues here doesn't give you the right to act like a big shot when you're not.”

“Whoa there, Sammie,” Sean said. “Take it down a notch before you start foaming at the mouth.”

I felt my hand form into a fist, and I swear I would have popped him one if Spencer hadn't spoken up.

“Take it down a notch yourself, buddy,” Spencer said to Sean. “Candido is a great guy, and it's not up to us to boss him around.”

Charlie dashed over to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

“Calm down,” she whispered. “All they're saying is that they like Eddie and want him to stay.”

The attention must have embarrassed Eddie, because he had left the volleyball court and was over on the deck putting on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked him.

“My brother is waiting for me,” he said.

I wanted to reach out and hug him. By the way, I think Lily did, too, but not for the same reason.

The guys came over and crowded around him, giving him fist pumps and playful slugs and “later dudes” and a variety of other boy-type good-byes.

“You're coming to my dad's thing tomorrow night, right?” Spencer asked him.

“Can Oscar come, too?” he asked.

“Of course he can,” I stated, before anyone else had a chance to jump in. “We want both Oscar and Eddie, don't we, guys?”

I glared at Charlie, who looked a little uncomfortable.

“Don't we, Charlie?” I repeated.

She looked over at Lauren and Jillian and Brooke, who were all staring at her, waiting for her answer. They did not look happy.

“Sure,” Spencer piped up. “Everybody's welcome.”

I continued to glare at Charlie, amazed that she had let Spencer answer for her.

This was not the sister I knew.

The Big Night

Chapter 10

“Sammie, move the lanterns a couple feet to your left,” my dad instructed. “The governor will not thank us if we leave her standing in the dark when she makes her speech.”

We were stringing orange-and-white Japanese-style paper lanterns across the deck.

“Why can't Ryan do this?” I grumbled. “He's so tall, he wouldn't even need a ladder. My arms are twitching from holding them up so high.”

“Remember that feeling next time you decide to purposely lose a match,” my dad said.

That's my dad. He just can't resist any opportunity for a lecture.

I had been working all day to get the club ready for the fund-raiser, and I felt like Cinderella before the ball. Charlie and her pals (who I began to think of as the wicked stepsisters) had done nothing to help—unless you consider trying on a million different outfits helpful, which personally, I don't.

Because I was technically still being punished, I had to do all the grunt work. I swept the deck so it was free of all sand, cleaned the barbecue, put out checkered tablecloths and napkins, helped GoGo cut up chicken for skewers, and took a few already cooked ones and a plate of brownies to Mrs. Ivanov next door. She's an elderly retired Russian ballet dancer who lives alone in the old, brown shingle house next to our club. GoGo says Mrs. Ivanov's husband bought her that house over fifty years ago, when she was young and beautiful and an international ballet star. Now her husband is gone and she is old and weak, so GoGo likes to send over meals to her whenever she can.

By the time we finished stringing the lights, it was five o'clock, almost time for the party to start. I had just enough time to jump in the shower and change clothes. Even though I was in a hurry, I “pulled a Charlie” and tried on about six outfits before I made my final decision. Now Charlie, she tries things on to see what looks best. Me, I try things on to see what fits. That night, the zipper of my favorite jeans decided to get all temperamental and uncooperative. It refused to zip up, no matter how much I held my breath and sucked my stomach in. I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I polished off all of Charlie's french fries the night before.

Hey, I wanted to wear the bigger-size jeans, anyway. (Not.)

I picked out a navy shirt that was long enough to cover the roll of fat that pooched out over the top of my too-tight jeans. Ryan calls this particular area of my body a “muffin top,” which sounds a whole lot cuter than it actually is. Without looking in the mirror, I smoothed my hair and hurried outside where I found Charlie and Ryan already waiting at the gate for Lauren and the other girls to arrive. Unlike me, Charlie was wearing her size-minus-zero jeans and a short little T-shirt. Not a muffin top to be found. She had a lip gloss wedged in her pocket and kept taking it out and nervously applying layer after layer.

“Your lips are getting pretty goopy,” I said.

“They were supposed to be here at six.”

“Who was? Your lips? They're already here.”

“Very funny, Sammie. That sounds like something Ryan would say.”

She had a point. I was nervous about having to perform at the event, nervous about seeing Oscar again, and I have a tendency to make bad jokes when I'm uncomfortable.

“Hey, I resent that remark,” Ryan said. “My humor is high quality. For example, pull my finger.”

He held his index finger straight out in front of us, and when we both refused to pull it, he did it himself, then made a farting sound and burst out laughing.

“I need a ginger ale after that,” he said, and sauntered off, still chuckling.

“Just shoot me if I ever behave like that,” I said to Charlie, but she wasn't listening. She pulled out her lip gloss again and said, “I wonder what's keeping them.” It was like I wasn't even there.

Charlie was really disappointed when the first people to arrive were Oscar and Alicia. Eddie had spent the afternoon swimming at Lily's house, and since her dad was dropping them off, Candido only had to bring Oscar and Alicia. They climbed out of Candido's truck, and Alicia stood at the open door for a long time, making arrangements about when to get picked up.

“Look who came with me,” Oscar said as he limped up the path. He turned to show me the back of his gray hoodie. It said T
HE
H
UMAN
T
ORCH
in bright orange letters surrounded by yellow flames.

“That's very hot,” I said, making my second lame joke of the evening. All I could do was hope this wasn't a trend and that I could stop at two.

Alicia breezed right by us into the kitchen to unwrap the El Salvadorian pottery she had brought to use in her demonstration. Candido drove off just in time to make room for a black Mercedes station wagon to pull into the driveway. Of course, it belonged to Lauren's dad, Chip Wadsworth.

“I'm going to let the girls off here while I go park in the lot,” Mr. Wadsworth called out to us. “Apparently, the walk from the parking lot will ruin their hair.”

Lauren shot her dad a look and then got out of the car with Jillian and Brooke.

All three girls walked up to the gate, and I swear, you've never seen such hair-bouncing in your life. It was like they were walking in slow motion. I don't know what they used to get their hair so thick and springy, but they looked like they had stepped right out of a shampoo commercial. Bounce, step, bounce, step, bounce, step. Even Oscar couldn't take his eyes off them—that is, until Tyler Frank came careening in, his silver sports car pulling to a stop in front of us.

“It's the Batmobile!” Oscar exclaimed, his attention immediately turning from the girls to the Ferrari.

“Bruce Wayne, reporting for duty.” Tyler did a little salute as he hopped out of the car. “How are things in Gotham?”

“Huh? We don't live in Gotham,” Lauren answered, looking confused.

“It's a little joke,” Tyler explained, giving Oscar a friendly punch. “For us Batman fans.”

“Oh,” Lauren said. Then she laughed as though she had gotten the joke in the first place. She stopped just as suddenly as she started, changing the topic to what she really wanted to talk about.

“So, Tyler, we're all ready for you to make us stars.”

“How do you figure?” he asked. “I'm supposed to be covering the governor.”

“Just wait and see,” Lauren told him. “Wherever she is, we won't be far away. Isn't that right, models?”

Jillian and Brooke nodded vigorously, and so did Charlie. In fact, her head was wagging up and down so much she looked like one of those bobblehead dolls.

“Would it be okay if I sat in your car?” Oscar asked Tyler. “I won't touch anything, I'll just take a look around.”

“Later, dude,” Tyler said. “I've got to unload my camera gear and get set up now. You can check out the car when things settle down. In the meantime, I'd like to get a couple shots of you inside the club.”

“You want to photograph
him
?” Lauren asked incredulously. “Why?”

“You kidding? He's got a great face,” Tyler said. “And a great story. Plus, any pal of the Human Torch is a pal of mine.”

Tyler handed Oscar one of his camera bags to carry. Oscar slung it over his shoulder, which already was supporting his own goofy-looking bright-red backpack, and headed off into the club. The heavy load made him limp even more than usual. Tyler grabbed another equipment bag and a tripod from the trunk and followed Oscar in. The pack of future models trailed close behind him. No surprise there, I guess. They couldn't wait to get their faces in front of his lens.

I was relieved to see them all go. That left Alicia and me by ourselves to greet the other Truth Tellers who were starting to pull up. Ms. Carew arrived with Sara and Will in her car. Etta, Devon, and Bernard were all dropped off by their parents. None of their parents were going to stay for the performance, though. Since it was a fund-raiser, everyone was supposed to pay money to come in. The suggested donation, which was more like a command than a suggestion, was two hundred and fifty dollars per person. That wasn't a problem for the members of the Sporty Forty, but the parents of my friends didn't have that kind of money to throw around. Not that contributing to a good cause is throwing around money—it's just that my friends' parents' money went to pay for necessities, like food and rent and clothes.

The first guests to arrive were Dr. Mandel, his wife, and their son, Noah. Noah is in the same grade as Ryan, but they don't exactly hang out together. Noah is this amazing science genius who's whipped through all the high school science electives even though he's only in the eighth grade. Let's just say, my brother's interest in science is limited to why humans fart and burp.

“You're one of the twins,” Noah said to me as they stopped at the gate.

“Sammie Diamond,” I replied, holding out my hand.

He didn't take it. He just said, “I suppose you know what the incidence of monozygotic twins is worldwide.”

There was an awkward silence while I waited for him to answer. He didn't.

“Um . . . what exactly is a monozygotic twin again?” I asked. “I used to know, but suddenly it's just slipped my mind.”

“It's you,” he said. “Identical. Formed from the same genetic material.”

Okay, so I feel marginally idiotic.

I quickly turned to face Dr. Mandel to cover my embarrassment.

“Thank you so much for what you're doing for Oscar,” I said, changing the subject to something I did know about. He looked surprised.

“Oh, is he a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” I said. “His cousin Alicia is my best friend.”

“Ah, yes, Candido's daughter.” Mrs. Mandel nodded. “All the Sporty Forties are so fond of Candido. I'm sure his nephew is a deserving young man.”

“He'd better be,” Dr. Mandel commented. “His surgery is costing the hospital well over fifty thousand dollars. Good thing Candido has friends in high places.”

“Oscar's inside, if you'd like to say hi,” I said. “He's wearing a Human Torch sweatshirt. You can't miss him!”

“My dear girl,” Dr. Mandel said. “Not only do I know what Oscar looks like, I know what his bones look like. Don't forget, I have examined his X-rays.”

“Of course,” I said, feeling idiotic for the second time in ten seconds, a new world record even for me.

Note to self: When talking to smart people, try not to be such a moron.

I followed the Mandels as they entered the club. When they went to go get drinks, I heard Noah explaining to his parents the science behind how the Human Torch's body produced his fire powers.

All the Truth Tellers had arrived and I was the last one to join the group. We huddled with Ms. Carew to scope out the best place for our performance. We decided to make a little stage at the end of the deck facing away from the beach, under the paper lanterns. We dragged three potted palm trees into a semicircle to create a performance area. Ms. Carew had borrowed a portable mic from school and we placed that in the center. Bernard, who considers himself a major techie, plugged it in. Not all that technical, if you ask me, but he made a big deal out of it because it required . . . hold on to your seats . . . an extension cord!

When Oscar was finished getting his pictures taken by Tyler, we let him do the sound check. He hummed a few bars of the Batman theme into the mic and got such a huge kick out of it, he did it again, even louder this time. From across the deck where she was standing with Lauren, Charlie shot me a nasty glance, shook her head, and mouthed the words, “That's not happening.”

As much to protect Oscar as to help Charlie, I went over and pulled the microphone plug from the extension cord. Charlie flashed me a silent nod of approval.

A few minutes before the rest of the guests were set to arrive, Officers Porter and Beswick showed up in their police cars, each with one additional officer. After doing a quick check of the premises, the two new officers stationed themselves in the clubhouse, next to an extra tray of brownies. Officer Beswick manned the front gate of the club, while Officer Porter walked around the beach eyeing everyone up and down. I saw him stop and talk with Oscar, which I thought was strange, because he didn't stop and talk to anyone else. After that, he took out his walkie-talkie and said something to Officer Beswick.

Mr. Ballard and Spencer arrived at exactly six thirty. I went over to say hello and tell the councilman that the Truth Tellers were very excited about performing. While I was talking, I noticed Spencer slip away and quickly go to join Charlie and the girls. He didn't do it in a mean kind of way, just in an “I'm here to see your sister” no-nonsense kind of way. I didn't hold it against him. As for Mr. Ballard, he quickly switched the conversation from Truth Tellers to the rest of the evening's plans. I admired how smoothly he did it. I guess politicians are used to making the conversation go the way they want it to.

“We're planning on about one hundred people showing up,” he said to my dad and GoGo. “Before we start the program, let's give folks an hour to mingle and enjoy this young lady's delicious finger food.”

He put his hand on GoGo's shoulder to make it clear that she was the young lady in question. My dad laughed.

“What's so funny, Rick?” GoGo said to him. “I am definitely young in spirit.”

“That's the attitude,” Mr. Ballard said, slapping GoGo on the back with such enthusiasm it almost knocked her over. Then he got all serious again.

“After the mix and mingle, I'll introduce the governor. She's on a tight schedule, but her advance people tell me she should be here by seven thirty, hopefully in time to see the Truth Teller kids perform.”

I love the sound of that! The governor of California, watching us do our thing. Wow.