SHAKESPEARE’ SECRET (6 page)

Hero took it and looped it carefully over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said coldly, turning away.

But, unbelievably, the boy fell in step beside her.

“I'm Danny Cordova,” he continued, unfazed. “Don't listen to them.” He gestured back toward the street corner. “They can be jerks.”

“I thought they were your friends.”

“They are. But sometimes they're jerks.”

Hero frowned in annoyance. “Oh, and you're not.

That was really great, the way you stood up for Aaron back there.”

Danny Cordova shrugged. “Listen, Aaron and Ben are brothers. They're always doing that kind of thing. I just stay out of it.”

Hero flushed, embarrassed. Of course,
that
was who the dark-haired boy looked like: Aaron. How could she have been so stupid? She had meant to rescue Aaron from a neighborhood bully, but all she'd really done was gotten herself mixed up in a sibling quarrel.

“I didn't know,” Hero muttered. Surely this would end the conversation. Hot and humiliated, she walked faster.

But Danny Cordova kept walking right beside her. “You live in the Murphy diamond house, don't you?”

“That's right,” said Hero.

“Do you know the story?”

Hero nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

They had reached Mrs. Roth's. Hero pushed open the gate, intending to say a curt goodbye. But to her astonishment, Danny Cordova followed her into the yard.

“Hi, Miriam,” he called out.

Hero stared at him, speechless. Mrs. Roth rose from her seat on the porch, smiling warmly at both of them.

“Well, Daniel! I haven't seen you in ages. How have you been?” Mrs. Roth took Danny's arm and beckoned Hero toward the porch.

Hero followed in utter bewilderment. What was going on? Had Mrs. Roth befriended every kid in the neighborhood? Did they all know about the diamond? Maybe she'd already discussed the Murphys with Danny and a dozen other people.

“You know each other?” Hero asked glumly as they all sat down on the steps.

“Daniel's father is the chief of police,” Mrs. Roth replied. “We saw quite a lot of each other during the Murphy investigation. And I had the prudence to hire Daniel to do a little yard work for me last year.”

“You did?” Hero found it hard to believe that anyone had ever done yard work at Mrs. Roth's.

“Just some weeding and planting,” Danny interjected, seeing Hero's doubtful look.

“Oh, he was a great help,” Mrs. Roth added, her voice warm. “Those tiger lilies over there are his doing, and my beautiful tulips last spring. I can't manage bulbs anymore. Would you two like something to eat? Cinnamon toast, Hero?”

“That'd be great,” Danny answered. Hero nodded.

Mrs. Roth disappeared through the screen door, and they could hear her clattering in the kitchen. Hero shifted uncomfortably on the step. She wanted to be talking about the diamond with Mrs. Roth, not sitting here next to some boy she didn't know, whose best friends had just made fun of her.

“Hero? That's your name?” Danny raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Hero focused her attention on one of her shoelaces.

“That's kind of a strange name.”

“It seems to be popular for pets.”

Danny laughed. “I bet.”

Mrs. Roth returned with their cinnamon toast, neat triangles scattered on a floral plate. She sat down between them, balancing the plate on her knees.

“Her name is from Shakespeare, you know,” she said to Danny.
“Much Ado About Nothing.
Some of the
less enlightened members of Hero's class have found it too distinctive to forego teasing her about it.” She turned to Hero. “How did you fare today?”

Hero glanced at Danny, hesitating. She certainly didn't feel like discussing school in front of him. But Danny had the same look of easygoing interest.

“Somebody giving you a hard time?” he asked.

Hero tried to sound casual. “Sort of.”

Mrs. Roth shook her head sympathetically. “Don't pay any attention, Hero. People can be quite unforgiving of anything that's the least bit different. But they'll come around.”

Hero thought this sounded absurdly optimistic, but she remained quiet. Danny finished his cinnamon toast and brushed his hands on his jeans.

“My dad always says, some people will treat you badly and you can't help that. But how you handle it, and how it makes you feel, that's up to you.”

“Exactly,” said Mrs. Roth. “I knew your father and I would find one thing to agree on.” She smiled conspiratorially at Hero. “Mr. Cordova and I didn't exactly see eye to eye during the Murphy investigation.”

Danny stretched, looking across the garden to the Netherfields' house. “So, Miriam, did Mr. Murphy ever try to get in touch with you again? After he sold the house?”

Hero's heart sank. Mrs. Roth must have told him all about the Murphys.

But Mrs. Roth said simply, “No, he didn't. I think he may be in Boston.”

Danny stepped down into the garden, idly yanking weeds. “My dad thinks the diamond might still be in the house. Somewhere. He's betting Mr. Murphy will try to contact you. You know, to get it back.”

Mrs. Roth brushed the crumbs from her lap and stood. “Well, I would be happy to hear from him, but I really don't expect to. And I'm sure your father understands that I probably won't let the police know if I do.”

Danny continued to pull fistfuls of weeds, piling them next to the walk. He flashed his wide, easy grin. “Don't worry. He's not expecting you to cooperate. He never expects me to cooperate either.”

Mrs. Roth smiled back at him as she carried the empty plate into the house. Hero was left on the steps, not knowing what to think. On the one hand, at least the story of the Murphy diamond didn't seem likely to be passed around the bus stop the next morning. On the other hand, how could she talk to Mrs. Roth about anything important with Danny Cordova sitting two feet away?

When Mrs. Roth came back to the porch, Hero got up reluctantly. “I should go,” she said. “I have tons of homework. My mom was worried when I got home so late yesterday.”

Mrs. Roth's brow furrowed. “Oh, Hero. I was hoping—” she stopped. “I thought we could work on the crossword. But maybe tomorrow.”

Danny stood up, wiping gray smears of dirt on his shorts. “I have to go, too,” he said. He gathered the clump of weeds and tossed them into the bin at the side of the house.

“Thank you, Daniel,” Mrs. Roth said. “I hope you'll stop by again soon.”

“Bye, Miriam,” he called.

He and Hero walked together toward the gate. At the street they turned in opposite directions.

“See you, Netherfield,” he said over his shoulder.

“Bye,” Hero answered quickly, heading for her driveway.

As soon as she reached the side door, it swung open. Beatrice grabbed her arm, pulling her into the kitchen. “I can't believe you!” she squealed. “What were you doing walking home with Danny Cordova?”

“What do you mean?” Hero demanded, shaking free. “I wasn't walking home with him.”

“Danny Cordova! Don't you know who he is? He's the hottest guy in the eighth grade.”

Their mother looked at Hero questioningly as Beatrice ran to the window. “Were you at Mrs. Roth's again?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Hero, “but I didn't stay long.”

“Look, Mom,” Beatrice continued. “Isn't he cute?”

“Well, I can only see the back of his head,” Hero's mother remarked drily, “but I'm sure he's a nice-looking boy.”

“He is.” Beatrice sounded reverent. “He's cool, too. Doesn't care what anybody thinks of him.”

“How do you know that?” Hero asked. “Geez, Triss, it's the second day of school! How do you know so much about him?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Everybody talks about him. He got suspended last year, and I guess it was kind of embarrassing because his dad's a cop.”

Their mother raised her eyebrows.

“What did he get suspended for?” Hero asked.

“I don't know,” said Beatrice. “Not drugs or anything. Something with a teacher.”

“Well,” their mother commented, “his reputation certainly precedes him. Tell me something, Beatrice.

Why is a boy more interesting to you and your friends if he has some kind of troubling background? I don't understand that.”

Beatrice laughed. “Oh, come on, Mom, that doesn't make him
more
interesting. It just makes him interesting.”

They all watched Danny's tall frame disappear down the street.

“What were you doing with him, Hero?” Beatrice asked again.

“Nothing,” Hero said. “He asked if I was your sister, and—”

“He did?” Beatrice sounded pleased.

“Yeah, and then it turns out he knows Mrs. Roth. He used to do yard work for her.”

Beatrice looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should start hanging out over there.”

Hero laughed. “Yeah, it's a great place to meet guys.”

Beatrice began to spread her homework on the table. “We'll probably never see him again.”

“Probably not around here,” Hero agreed. “But you'll see him at school.”

Beatrice shook her head, cheerfully resigned. “Not alone like that,” she said. “He's always with his friends.”

Hero rummaged through her backpack for her Social Studies book, thinking about the strange afternoon. First the ridiculous mix-up with Aaron and his brother, then a wasted hour at Mrs. Roth's with some strange boy who, as it turned out, probably
was
a juvenile delinquent. The one thing that had carried her through the school day was the thought of hearing more about the Murphy diamond. But she'd found out nothing else about it, not even where to begin looking.

As the bus approached the street corner the next afternoon, dark gray clouds massed overhead, and the first large drops of rain speckled the pavement. Hero searched the bus stop for any sign of Danny Cordova and his friends, but the corner was deserted. She felt a rush of relief, and then, though she wasn't sure why, a vague twinge of disappointment.

Aaron, who had been treating her like a returning war hero since the hat incident, commented suspiciously, “They're just laying low for a while. My mom really yelled at Ben yesterday.”

“You could have told me he was your brother, you know,” Hero said. “Then I wouldn't have felt so dumb afterward.”

“He's not really my brother,” Aaron answered. “He's, like, a stepbrother.”

“He is? You mean you have different dads or something?”

“No, but he's
like
a stepbrother. He's always mean tome.”

Hero tried not to smile. “You'd better run, Aaron. It looks like it's going to pour.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when they heard a rumble of thunder. The rain fell in torrents, flooding the sidewalk. Hero held her backpack over her head and dashed down the street. By the time she reached Mrs. Roth's, her sneakers were soaked and squelching, and wet strands of hair stuck to her cheeks. She scampered over the puddled walkway to the porch, where Mrs. Roth held open the front door and motioned her inside.