“But I can’t tell you now. So, what’s your big news? You got another letter?”
“Yep. When I stopped by Mr. C.’s this morning,there was another note waiting for me. Same as before—no return address, no postage. Just dropped through the mail slot.”
“And what challenge have the clue gods chosen for us this time?”
“It’s in some kind of code. All symbols, no letters or numbers.”
“Weird. I just read that Sherlock Holmes story with the code. ‘The Adventure of the Dancing Men.’ Is it like that?”
“It doesn’t look like that one, but I assume it’s the same basic idea—a substitution code. You substitute a symbol for a letter. I just have to figure out which symbols equal which letters. In fact, I may need the book back to see how Sherlock did it. But you’d better get back to Raf and your engagement entrée. Have fun at the movie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Wait a second—just out of curiosity, did Mr. C. say anything about that violin? You know, the one that Ben was talking about, being so valuable and all.”
“No, he didn’t mention it. That is interesting. I saw it hanging in the back. It still has the tag with David Childress’s name on it. I wonder if he knows about the Frischetti initials.”
“It seems like the sort of thing he’d know you’d be interested in,” I say. “Oh well. I’d better go before my dad decides to invite himself to the movie.”
“Eek,” Margaret says. “Run, Sophie, run!”
Chapter 12
Where’s Vanna White when you really need her?
My movie pick stinks, but I don’t really care. The weird part of the evening—okay, the other weird part, after an illegal scooter ride across town, and after having dinner with my parents and Raf—is when we’re standing in line waiting to go in the theater and we run into Livvy Klack. She’s with a group that includes three other girls from St. Veronica’s and some boys I don’t know—except for one. That one is Andrew.
“Hey, it’s Andrew, right? I’m Sophie. My mom is your—”
“Oh yeah, hi.”
“You two know each other?” Livvy asks, incredulous.
“We just met,” I say. “He’s in this quartet with Marg—” I try to pull the name back into my mouth, but it’s too late.
Livvy turns the sarcasm knob all the way up to ten. “You know the great Margaret Wrobel? Gosh, Andrew, what’s she really like? Please tell us. Is she as perfect aseveryone says? Where is she, by the way? Off feeding the homeless, or reading to the blind, I’ll bet. She’s just so super.”
I know Andrew just met Margaret and all, but it kind of ticks me off that he doesn’t do or say anything. He just lets Livvy yammer on and on about Margaret. I suppose it’s not fair of me to expect him to defend her, but I can. I get right in Livvy’s grille and say, “Margaret Wrobel is a better person and a better friend than you’ll ever be, Livvy. You’re just jealous because she has about sixty IQ points on you and you know you can’t beat her at anything. She’ll be first in our class at St. Veronica’s, and then she’s going to go to Harvard or Juilliard and she’ll be first in her class there. And you’ll be at Cheap and Mean University, still trying to figure out how to beat her.” I take a deep breath. “And at least everything about her is real,” I add, staring right at her chest, which seems to have grown a cup size or three in the last twenty-four hours.
I take a shell-shocked Raf by the hand and storm inside to watch the stupid movie.
He doesn’t say anything until we are in our seats, sharing a box of Junior Mints. Finally he looks over at me and smiles. “You just make friends wherever you go, don’t you?”
I bury my head in my hands. “What have I done? Margaret is going to kill me. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Stop you? I was trying to figure out a way to applaud you.”
“What do you think of Andrew?”
“The guy that was with Livvy? I don’t know. Who is he again?
“Yep. When I stopped by Mr. C.’s this morning,there was another note waiting for me. Same as before—no return address, no postage. Just dropped through the mail slot.”
“And what challenge have the clue gods chosen for us this time?”
“It’s in some kind of code. All symbols, no letters or numbers.”
“Weird. I just read that Sherlock Holmes story with the code. ‘The Adventure of the Dancing Men.’ Is it like that?”
“It doesn’t look like that one, but I assume it’s the same basic idea—a substitution code. You substitute a symbol for a letter. I just have to figure out which symbols equal which letters. In fact, I may need the book back to see how Sherlock did it. But you’d better get back to Raf and your engagement entrée. Have fun at the movie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Wait a second—just out of curiosity, did Mr. C. say anything about that violin? You know, the one that Ben was talking about, being so valuable and all.”
“No, he didn’t mention it. That is interesting. I saw it hanging in the back. It still has the tag with David Childress’s name on it. I wonder if he knows about the Frischetti initials.”
“It seems like the sort of thing he’d know you’d be interested in,” I say. “Oh well. I’d better go before my dad decides to invite himself to the movie.”
“Eek,” Margaret says. “Run, Sophie, run!”
Chapter 12
Where’s Vanna White when you really need her?
My movie pick stinks, but I don’t really care. The weird part of the evening—okay, the other weird part, after an illegal scooter ride across town, and after having dinner with my parents and Raf—is when we’re standing in line waiting to go in the theater and we run into Livvy Klack. She’s with a group that includes three other girls from St. Veronica’s and some boys I don’t know—except for one. That one is Andrew.
“Hey, it’s Andrew, right? I’m Sophie. My mom is your—”
“Oh yeah, hi.”
“You two know each other?” Livvy asks, incredulous.
“We just met,” I say. “He’s in this quartet with Marg—” I try to pull the name back into my mouth, but it’s too late.
Livvy turns the sarcasm knob all the way up to ten. “You know the great Margaret Wrobel? Gosh, Andrew, what’s she really like? Please tell us. Is she as perfect aseveryone says? Where is she, by the way? Off feeding the homeless, or reading to the blind, I’ll bet. She’s just so super.”
I know Andrew just met Margaret and all, but it kind of ticks me off that he doesn’t do or say anything. He just lets Livvy yammer on and on about Margaret. I suppose it’s not fair of me to expect him to defend her, but I can. I get right in Livvy’s grille and say, “Margaret Wrobel is a better person and a better friend than you’ll ever be, Livvy. You’re just jealous because she has about sixty IQ points on you and you know you can’t beat her at anything. She’ll be first in our class at St. Veronica’s, and then she’s going to go to Harvard or Juilliard and she’ll be first in her class there. And you’ll be at Cheap and Mean University, still trying to figure out how to beat her.” I take a deep breath. “And at least everything about her is real,” I add, staring right at her chest, which seems to have grown a cup size or three in the last twenty-four hours.
I take a shell-shocked Raf by the hand and storm inside to watch the stupid movie.
He doesn’t say anything until we are in our seats, sharing a box of Junior Mints. Finally he looks over at me and smiles. “You just make friends wherever you go, don’t you?”
I bury my head in my hands. “What have I done? Margaret is going to kill me. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Stop you? I was trying to figure out a way to applaud you.”
“What do you think of Andrew?”
“The guy that was with Livvy? I don’t know. Who is he again?
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