Read Online The Tiara on the Terrace by Kristen Kittscher - Free Book Online Page B

this, I promise.”
    Grace’s brow creased. “Helmets?”
    I nodded. “Rod told me Peter Murguia’s mom is making him wear a neon one. You know, for extra visibility.”
    â€œWhoa.”
    Grace let the thought sink in. If other kids’ parents were making them wear safety helmets, the Yangs were probably one step away from fitting her for a padded float-decorating suit. They didn’t mess around.
    â€œYup.” I crossed my arms. “Also, for all we know, the police are still on it and just announced it was an accident. It’s not like you tell a murderer, ‘Ready or not! Here we come!’”
    Grace pursed her lips. “I sure hope so, Sophie. Because if they’re not—people could be in serious danger. Steptoe wasn’t the only one on that judging committee. What if there are more targets?”
    My shoulders tensed as I thought of Barb Lund’s expression at the announcements. I had to admit it wasn’t entirely crazy to think she could’ve snapped. If someone spent years dreaming of something only to have it taken away at the last second, couldn’t they lose it? I mean, I had a total meltdown when my parents went back on their promise to get us a Golden Retriever puppy—and I’d only begged for, like, a year.
    â€œIt’s not like they shut Lily out of the Court altogether, Grace,” I said.
    â€œTell me one time Trista was wrong about something,” Grace said. “Ever. Because that’s the only way I’m going tobuy that the s’more swung down by accident.” She glanced through the archway into the ballroom where guests in sequined dresses and tuxedos were pouring in.
    It was hard to argue with her. “I can’t.” I let my arms slap to my sides. “But please, Grace, we don’t have to be pages. We can still investigate. Here. Tonight! When else are all our suspects going to be in one place?” I waved my hand toward the ballroom.
    â€œOkay, it’s a plan. Let’s find out everything we can now,” Grace replied as she rolled up the cuffs of my oversized white waiter jacket and brushed the lint off of it. She smiled slyly. “And if we don’t solve the case . . . we audition for pages.”
    â€œGrace, seriously. I’d rather die.”
    â€œOh, I hear the judges love zombies.” She thrust out her arms at me stiffly and imitated the Court contestants’ empty grins.
    I laughed. “But will they love my moves?” I did one of our more ridiculous dance party steps, which was something like a cross between a jumping jack and a can-can kick. I was midjump, holding a dinner roll, when Marissa Pritchard waltzed in with Danica and Denise Delgado.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Marissa asked, her lip curling. The twins stared, openmouthed.
    â€œSophie’s teaching me a new form of sign language,” Grace explained. She turned to me and scratched one armpit while hopping up and down on one foot, then we both totally lost it, clutching our stomachs as we cracked up. It made me really happy that she didn’t care what Marissa thought. Maybe I’d been wrong about her wanting to hang out with them. Danica and Denise turned to each other and laughed too—though more at us than with us.
    Just then Rod Zimball came in with his friends, Peter and Matt. My laughter faded as Marissa smiled sweetly at them. “Sophie’s teaching us sign language,” she announced. “Want to learn?”
    I felt my face turn an even deeper shade of magenta than the napkins Danica and Denise had started laying inside empty breadbaskets.
    Rod ran his hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck. “Uh, kinda busy right now?” He looked at me apologetically. “Maybe later?”
    I was trying to think of something to say when Harrison Lee ducked in through the ballroom archway and saved me. “Good evening, ladies. How’s the