Page 41 of Retool

I needed to get back to campus to see if I could find out anything about what had happened to Steven.AndI needed to track down this mystery author, Whitney Smith.And—

And I’d promised Keme I’d go to his surf competition.

Okay, I told myself.Priorities: Keme first.

Then, straight back to investigating.

As I reversed out of the parking stall, my phone buzzed with a call from my parents.I sent it to voicemail, but a moment later, it started to buzz again.

My shoulders sagged.I groaned.I melted into the seat—and then sat up straight so I could turn out of the parking lot.My parents are Jonny Dane (of the Talon Maverick, shoot-first-ask-questions-later series) and Patricia Lockley (of such mind-bending titles asThe Dermabrasionist,The Girl in the Byre, andWe All Have Amnesia.) They had a charming habit of simultaneously neglecting me and meddling in my life, and now was not the time.

“I’m busy,” I said as I answered the phone.

“Hello to you too,” my mom said.“I understand you’ve killed Vivienne again.”

“I didn’t—”

“Hey, Dash!”That was my dad.“Great news!”

“It’s not great news!”

“About the TV show.”

“What?How did you hear about that?”

“Hugo,” my mom said.“This is how I have to find out my son is a murder suspectandhas been offered a major rights deal: from his best friend and collaborator.”

“Okay, in the first place, Hugo is not my best friend.I don’t have a best friend.”

(Oh my God, did I not have a best friend?If I did, was it Keme?)

“You don’t?”my dad said.“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t second grade,” I snapped.“And in the second place, how does Hugo know about Vivienne?Or the show?Or anything?And in the third place, why are you talking to Hugo at all?”

“We always talk to Hugo,” my mom said.

“What doesthatmean?”

“You want me to get him on the call?”my dad said.“Hold on.Patricia, how do you do a three-way with this thing?”

If you’ve never heard your parents usethatexpression before, let me tell you: it’s a choice experience.(Bychoice, I mean the stuff nightmares are made of.)

“Donotget Hugo on this call,” I said.

“He said Millie told him,” my mom said.

A series of beeps interrupted her.

“Jonny—” my mom said.

More beeps.

“Oh my God,” I moaned.

“I don’t even know if youcando a three-way on here.”

“Can everyone please stop?”I asked (it was kind of a moan again).“Dad, whatever you’re doing, knock it off.And isliterally everyonetalking to Hugo behind my back?Mom, I forbid you from talking to him.”