The Great Shelby Holmes Meets Her Match

  “See, John, you acting guys have it easy,” Jason replied as he bit into an apple. “You simply recite whatever we writers write. Army Dude and I are the real creators, right?”

  I bobbed my head as Jason continued to tell everybody how writers ruled. Although I had never really thought about it like that. I just had stories I wanted to tell. Things I wanted to share. Mostly I wanted to tell my story. So much was happening to me, and writing helped me remember every single detail. This lunch with my new friends was just the beginning.

  I knew it had only been three hours, but I loved this school. Yeah, the basics were still the same, but it was somehow so different being around other creative people. I pictured us talking about art and reading and life. It was almost like I was a grown-up.

  Bryant flipped his shaggy blond hair that covered most of his pale face. “At least you guys are excited for your classes. We were handed a new piece in music this morning, and I’ll give you one guess who nailed it on the first try.”

  They all laughed at some inside joke.

  “I mean, at least you have a chance to be the top person in your department,” Bryant complained.

  “What instrument do you play?” I asked as he picked at his sandwich.

  “Violin. I was always the best until she came along.”

  I followed Bryant’s glare to Shelby, who was sitting alone at a table in the middle of the cafeteria. She was reading an extremely large chemistry book as she shoved an entire cookie into her mouth.

  Shelby was that good at the violin?

  I didn’t know why that surprised me. Shelby was good at everything. Well, except for sports. And I’m not only talking about playing sports. Shelby knew nothing about sports. Nothing. She didn’t feel that kind of information should take up “precious real estate” in her brain attic.

  Bryant groaned. “I could handle being second best if she wasn’t so smug about it.”

  Sure sounded like Shelby.

  Carlos hit Jason on the shoulder. “Army Dude doesn’t know about Harlem Academy’s very own supersleuth. Watch out for her, man. She can figure out your whole life story in four point five seconds.”

  “Just stay away from her, period,” Bryant warned me as he took a big bite of his sandwich.

  “Come on, guys, she’s not that bad,” Jason came to Shelby’s defense while I remained mute on the subject. “We’re all freaks of some kind, right? I mean, Bryant, you’re an eleven-year-old violin prodigy. How much more geeky can you get? John over there can spew Shakespeare from memory.”

  John Wu pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses and reached his arm out. “ ‘Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’ ”

  “Yep, right there! Exactly!” Jason nodded at John Wu. “And Carlos, you’re always covered in ink doodles or paint. As for me, I’m always paying attention to what you say so I can steal it and portray y’all poorly in a work of fiction.” Jason let out a huge laugh, which was contagious, and we all began laughing with him. Except for Bryant.

  “Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say,” Bryant grumbled. His face was getting red. “She’s not in your program.”

  “She’s in an acting class with me,” John replied.

  “Yeah, well, you’re just defending her because you hired her last year,” Bryant argued.

  John shrugged. “She found the script for the play with all my notes. Totally worth the sack of candy. Admit it, you’d go to her if you lost your violin.”

  That seemed to quiet Bryant for a bit.

  I looked over at Shelby, whose face was hidden in her book. I remembered when Tamra told Shelby about her dog; Shelby said she was someone people came to if they needed something. Even then I felt bad that she was used by her fellow classmates like that, but she didn’t seem to care. Funny thing was that I did.

  “Shelby’s my neighbor,” I confessed. I wanted them to realize that she was someone beyond a supersleuth. “We live in the same building. And … we’re friends.”

  They all stopped chewing their food and looked at me.

  “Hold on.” Carlos started laughing like I’d just told a joke. “You mean she has friends? Like, you guys hang out and do normal friend things?”

  Define normal?

  “Well, I mean, I help her with her cases sometimes.”

  “Help her how?” Bryant narrowed his eyes. “Is there anything she doesn’t know? Look at her!” He gestured to Shelby. “What sixth grader reads a giant chemistry book for fun!”

  I didn’t want to remind them that Shelby should technically be in fourth grade since she’d skipped a couple grades. I turned to make sure Shelby couldn’t hear us. Even though she was four tables away and reading a book, I couldn’t help but feel like she was watching me. “She’s simply putting facts away in her brain attic.”

  “Brain attic?” John and Carlos asked in unison.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “It’s how she stores away information to help her solve cases. She’s really smart.”

  “I guess that’s one way you could describe her,” Carlos said with a snicker.

  Jason let out a huge groan. “Aw man, you are going to have way better things to write about if you’re working with her. Don’t go making me look boring.” Then he did his contagious laugh again.

  I instantly knew that Jason and I would be good friends. He’s a writer like me and seemed to get that being friends with Shelby was anything but dull.

  “Okay, okay,” Carlos said as he looked nervously at Shelby. He hunched over and said in a near whisper, “So, like, did she really stop a bank from being robbed with a paper clip and fork?”

  He was joking, right?

  John shook his head. “No way. That can’t be true. Right, Army Dude? Also, the mayor does not call her every morning for a security briefing.” His face fell as he leaned in. “Does he?”

  I could only stare back at them, waiting for a punch line that never came.

  It appeared as if the exploits of one Shelby Holmes had been greatly exaggerated.

  Jason laughed. “Don’t listen to these fools, John Watson. They’ll believe anything.”

  Carlos began to protest, but Jason waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, you don’t believe any of it, but you’ll go a different way to class to avoid running into her.”

  “She once knew that I hadn’t finished my homework the second I walked into class,” Carlos said. “It was freaky. I had planned some excuse, but she outed me in front of everyone. How did she know?”

  Body language was my guess. Shelby had been showing me that the way people hold themselves could tell a lot about them. Like this morning with the girl who wasn’t at camp. Right now, observing the guys, they seemed to be scared of what Shelby could do, which was understandable. But I also sensed they had a begrudging respect for her.

  “Well,” I said as I got up with my empty lunch bag. “All I’ll say is that I’ve seen some crazy stuff since hanging with her. And she’s actually pretty cool.”

  It felt good to stand up for Shelby. She’d done so much for me, it was the least I could do for her. Yeah, it was freaky what she could do, but she wasn’t that bad.

  As the warning bell sounded, I made my way to my locker. I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I’d thought people wouldn’t believe my stories about Shelby, but it seemed the myth might be bigger than the actual Shelby.

  Shelby was waiting for me at my locker.

  “Hey, Shelby!” I said loudly.

  An amused smile spread on Shelby’s face. “Actually pretty cool? Really, Watson? People might start talking.” She shook her head before turning on her heel and walking away.

  Of course she had heard everything. Of course she did.

  CHAPTER

  4

  “Sounds like you had a good first day of school.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty good, Dad.”

  Yep. STOP THE PRESSES! I was talking to my dad.

  He’d kind of disappeared
my first week here. He didn’t call when he said he would, and then he wouldn’t answer my calls. It was really frustrating. And it hurt. Like, a lot.

  Things had gotten a little better over the past two weeks. It wasn’t perfect. If there was a perfect version of my life, he’d be here. But hey, at least we were talking.

  “I’m really proud of you, son,” he replied. His voice sounded closer than the thousand miles that separated New York City and our old army post in Kentucky where he worked in the recruiting department. “Why don’t we video chat next time so I can see your face. You sound older. I hope you aren’t growing up too fast without your old man around.”

  The thing was, so much has happened since I got here, I did feel older. Maybe it was because it was just Mom and me, or maybe it was solving cases with Shelby. People relied on me more now than they did on the post.

  “Tell your mother I said hello,” he added a bit cautiously.

  “I will,” I replied, knowing that she’d at least be happy he called when he said he would. This time.

  There was a knock on our door, and since there was only one person who ever came to visit me, I knew who it was.

  I opened the door, and Shelby took one quick look at me. “And how is your father?”

  Normally, I’d be impressed with Shelby’s ability to pluck information seemingly out of thin air, but with the stupid grin on my face, it would’ve been obvious to anybody that I just talked to my dad.

  I missed him. Sometimes talking to him made me miss him more, but that twenty-minute conversation about my first day of school made me feel like he was part of my life again.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Shelby as she plunked down on the couch. “Did you have a good day?”

  I hadn’t seen Shelby that much today. We only had one class together, science. Then she left class quickly, and I couldn’t find her once school was over.

  “I survived.”

  “Where’d you go off to after school?”

  “I had things to do.”

  “Oh.” I was a little disappointed that she hadn’t included me in whatever she was doing, since “things” with Shelby usually meant there was a case.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “You want to join me for lunch tomorrow?” I felt bad that she was sitting by herself at lunch, and I wanted her to join the guys and me. I mean, I know she didn’t need friends. But who wants to eat lunch by themselves?

  She grimaced. “Why would I want to waste precious research time?”

  “You know … to make some friends.”

  “I have enough friends.” She gestured at me. By the look on her face, it appeared that one might be too many.

  “Well, maybe it would make things easier for you,” I reasoned. It would make people see that she was kinda cool, even with her caustic attitude. Though of course I didn’t say that.

  “Please, Watson, school’s easy enough.”

  Usually I’d agree with her, but it didn’t seem like the Harlem Academy of the Arts was going to be easy. I already had so much homework for every class. Who gave homework on the first day?

  I gestured at the pile of books in front of us on the coffee table. “Please tell me this much homework isn’t normal.”

  Shelby shrugged. “I suppose one could consider the mundane tasks assigned as work. I finished mine before we even left school.”

  “What?” How was that possible? “Science, too?”

  “I had that done before Mr. Crosby could even figure out what he was assigning us.”

  I’d sneaked a few glances at Shelby during class. She sat front and center and had her head down, scribbling in her notebook the entire time. I thought she was writing down everything Crosby was saying, not finishing her homework.

  “I also had enough time to start my investigation,” she added casually, although I could tell she wanted me to ask her about it.

  “We have a case?”

  “Potentially. I started doing preliminary research on my suspect during class.”

  There was a suspect in science class?

  Then it hit me.

  I slapped my hand against my forehead. “This isn’t about Mr. Crosby, is it?”

  Shelby pointed her finger at me. “There’s something off about him. He looks at me in a weird way.”

  WHO DOESN’T? I wanted to ask, but I bit my tongue. But seriously? I’d seen nothing but weird looks for Shelby from kids and teachers today.

  “Hold on.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What exactly were you doing after school?”

  Her eyes darted sideways.

  Oh, she was so busted.

  “Please tell me you weren’t stalking our new teacher.”

  “It’s called tailing a person of interest,” she replied with a sniff.

  “Well, did you find anything?” I asked, although I knew she hadn’t. If she had anything on Crosby, she would’ve marched into the apartment with that told-ya-so grin she so loves.

  “It’s still too early to have a fully formed case against him.”

  “Shelby …” I wanted to reason with her, but already knew I was in a losing battle.

  “Fine, don’t believe me.”

  It was hard to not believe Shelby since she was, say it with me, always right. But maybe, just maybe she was wrong this one time.

  “Okay, okay,” I said to appease her. I knew Shelby’s suspicions weren’t simply going to vanish. Neither was the towering pile of books in front of me. “I really need to get to my homework,” I said as I picked up one of my books. I didn’t even know where to start. Usually I would always do my English homework first, and as much as I was itching to write about my first day of school, I knew that would be easy compared to my math homework. And science. And history.

  “I can’t believe you’re already done,” I said. “It’s so much.”

  Shelby looked up at the ceiling and tilted her head. “You’re right. All this homework is extremely overwhelming, to be honest with you.”

  Aha! It wasn’t only me!

  “Do you want to study together?” I offered.

  She wrung her hands in her lap. “Truthfully, there’s a chance I may need to drop down to fifth-grade science.”

  I was stunned. It was hard to believe.

  Wait a second. Not only had Shelby said she’d already finished our homework, but now she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Her fidgeting hands were a clue that she was uneasy. She twice reiterated that she was telling the truth or being honest, pushing that point a little too hard. Shelby always told me to observe, and what I was observing was that Shelby Holmes wasn’t telling the truth. And I was going to call her on it.

  “Why are you lying?”

  Shelby dropped her hands by her side. “Well done, Watson! Which nonverbal clue tipped you off the most?”

  “Wait. You were testing me?”

  “Yes! And you did splendidly.” Shelby patted me on the back. “Now for your next assignment, I’m going to—”

  I cut her off. “Shelby, I have a ton of homework. Can this wait?”

  “Do you think criminals wait?” she countered. “There’s so much you have yet to learn. While you’ve improved in observing, there are still many elements you need to master to truly be helpful: chromatography, fingerprinting, entomology, dental forensics, lab testing—”

  “Fingerprinting? Lab testing?” I asked since those were the only things I’d even heard of. “Have you even had to use that stuff?”

  “A good detective is always up-to-date with the latest investigation techniques.” Shelby flipped open one of my notebooks. “How are your art skills? Judging by your penmanship, I presume they’re average.”

  “Hey!” I said as I grabbed the notebook out of her hand. My handwriting wasn’t that bad. Shelby’s was the worst—she wrote so quickly it was nearly impossible to read. “I’m okay at drawing, I guess. Why?”

  “It’s helpful to sketch crime scenes and suspects.”

  “Then why have I never onc
e seen you sketch anything?”

  “I don’t need to.” She tapped her head. “Everything I need is in here.”

  Of course it was. As much as I appreciated that Shelby was willing to teach me more about solving cases, it would have to wait. If I didn’t get my schoolwork done, I was going to be in big trouble. Shelby Holmes could be intimidating, but she had nothing on my mom when she got angry.

  “How about this weekend?” I offered.

  “I suppose so.” Shelby slumped on the couch, her feet inches from the ground. “I’ll come up with something fun.”

  Uh-oh. Shelby and I had very different ideas of what was considered fun.

  She finally got up, an extra bounce in her step. “Maybe I’ll call in some favors and see if I can get access to a cadaver.”

  “Wait!” I called out to her. “Please, no dead body parts. Promise me.”

  (Like I should have to ever say those words to anybody. EVER.)

  “But it would be—”

  “Promise,” I urged her.

  “Fine, I promise.” She grimaced. “Sometimes you’re no fun, Watson.”

  See what I meant? Very different definitions. Very.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Just last month, I couldn’t wait for school to begin. Now that I finished my second week of school, I longed for the lazy days of summer. (Although lazy was not a word you could use to describe anything Shelby Holmes–related.)

  I was busy. Crazy busy. There was homework. There were writing assignments. There were chores at home. And more homework. And, you know, making time for new friends.

  And then there were my lessons from Shelby.

  “Be careful,” she instructed me as I placed a casting frame around a footprint in the wet soil of Mrs. Hudson’s garden. “You have the benefit of casting a much larger print than I did when I had to find out who was destroying Mrs. Hudson’s kale. My eyes told me it was a rabbit, but I needed a cast to confirm.”

  The footprint cast was going to dry overnight. Then tomorrow I was supposed to tell Shelby about the person who left it (although I already knew it was her). She had taught me all about tread patterns, foot measurements, and gaits.