A Dramatic Disappearance, page 1
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a mystery, I rely on the team at Albert Whitman & Company
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Text copyright © 2023 by Albert Whitman & Company
First published in the United States of America in 2023 by Albert Whitman & Company
ISBN 978-0-8075-3792-3 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-8075-3793-0 (ebook)
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Contents
01. Hometown Hero
02. An Unexpected Audience
03. The Big Interview
04. A Show without a Star
05. Friendship and Fame
06. Ups and Downs
07. Waiting in the Wings
08. Digital Detectives
09. Another Direction
10. A Surprising History
11. Everyone’s a Critic
12. The Underground Lair
13. Mask Off
14. Opening Night
15. Curtain Call
Chapter 1
Hometown Hero
“Ready, Jessie?” Daniel sat on the boxcar floor. My dog, Watch, stood next to him. Daniel gave me instructions, saying, “When I point at the camera, you press play, okay?”
“I’ve got it,” I replied, making sure my finger wasn’t blocking the lens.
“If you mess up, no worries. I’m editing the good bits together,” Charla said without looking at us. She was working on my computer, cleaning up the video we’d made earlier at the park.
I felt like I’d done a pretty good job as videographer so far, but recording Daniel was hard. He was funny, and every time I laughed, the camera shook. Or I chuckled over his dialogue. Once, I tried to hold in my giggles and got a cramp in my side. Daniel had to do one part of his “Parkour in the Park” skit four times before I got enough decent footage to use.
Daniel Garza, Charla Gray, and I were best friends. Ever since Daniel had come to see me and Charla about a mystery at Color Wash, his parents’ art shop, we’d all bonded. Charla called us the Three Musketeers, like the swashbuckling characters in a very old book. Their motto was “All for one and one for all.” We were like that too.
There was a long story behind how Charla and I had ended up making videos for Daniel. But as feature journalist for the Greenfield Gabber, our middle school newspaper, I was learning how to make a story short and to the point:
Charla had accidentally shared a video of Daniel pretending to be his favorite comic book superhero with our classmates. Daniel was not happy about the attention. We gave him time to cool off, and then he decided that being silly on the internet wasn’t so bad after all. He made a few videos on his own and uploaded them to social media under the hashtag #GreenfieldGoofs.
Now he had become a huge local celebrity. No kidding.
Shy Daniel, who still barely talked to anyone at school, had joined the theater club, started making comedy videos, and was regularly trending under the #GreenfieldGoofs hashtag. Life is weird like that.
“Okay, doggo.” Daniel was directing my wirehaired terrier. “When I say ‘action,’ you do the scene just like we planned.”
Watch cocked his head to the side and let his tongue flop out.
I counted slowly to ten in my head so I wouldn’t risk any giggles.
Daniel decided that Watch was ready. He pointed at me.
I started filming.
“Watch, roll over,” Daniel commanded. His light brown hair made his dark eyes seem even darker on the screen of my phone.
Watch didn’t move.
The boxcar wasn’t a big space. It was an old railcar that my sister, brothers, and I had stayed in before we’d met Grandfather. We lived with him now, and the boxcar had become the Alden family clubhouse in the backyard. On Saturdays from 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., though, I’d arranged for special Just Jessie time. That meant no interruptions. The perfect time and place to record Daniel’s newest video.
Daniel got down on his hands and knees. He showed Watch how to roll across the hard wooden floor. This was what we planned. Daniel was going to demonstrate all the tricks, and then Watch would do them. It worked great in rehearsal. Really funny!
Daniel did a silly roll. I managed not to laugh. Watch was supposed to roll too, only he didn’t do his part. Instead, Watch lay down and yawned.
Watch was a smart dog, and I was certain he knew exactly what to do. He was just being stubborn.
Daniel played it cool.
“Hmm,” he said to the camera. “Let’s try something else.” Daniel squatted down next to Watch and put out a hand. “Shake.” That’s when Watch rolled over.
Daniel mugged for the camera. “Maybe you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” He laughed. “Let’s try a joke.” Daniel put his arm around Watch’s neck. “Knock, knock…”
Watch was supposed to bark in reply. Instead, my dog pulled away and raised a paw to shake.
Daniel’s reaction was hysterical. He gave up the rehearsed act, shook Watch’s paw, then started rolling around with him on the floor. The two of them were barking and howling together.
I desperately tried to hold back my giggles, but my eyes filled with tears until I couldn’t see what I was videoing. I was going to explode if I didn’t let my laughter out!
Charla came to the rescue. While I pulled myself together, she took my phone and filmed the last bit where Daniel bowed and said, “Garza gone!”
She stopped recording and turned off the screen.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I hope I didn’t ruin the ending.”
“I’ll fix it up,” Charla assured me. She was amazing at everything to do with computers. Coding was her main thing, but lately she’d been reading up on video editing to help Daniel.
Charla had also started making her own computer themed T-shirts. Even though it was chilly in the boxcar, she insisted she was warm enough in short sleeves. Today, her shirt said “Rendering” and had a graphic of a thick blue line halfway to the end of a long rectangle. She’d explained earlier to me that rendering was what it was called when the computer converted coded data to video images.
Charla tapped a few times on my phone and then went to the computer to double-check that the footage had transferred.
She clicked over to #GreenfieldGoofs and scrolled through some of Daniel’s other videos. “Posting two at one time is ambitious,” she told Daniel.
“I know,” he said. “I usually only do one on the weekend, but since I had two assistants today, I thought we could hammer out an extra!”
“I don’t know if you’ll ask me back,” I said, tying my long brown hair back with a matching scrunchie. “With a tripod at home, you don’t get the shakes and the giggles.”
“It’s fun when we’re together,” Daniel replied. “Plus, Charla can edit way better than I can.”
“Thanks!” Charla loved a compliment. She said, “I want to make sure these new uploads have the same vibe as the older ones. I think that we should add a graphic title and…” Charla stopped. “Uh, Daniel?” She called him over to the screen. “Have you read the comments on your latest video?”
I went with Daniel to stand behind Charla. Her thick black hair was braided down her back. I could see her reflection in the computer screen. Yet again, Charla had forgotten to wear her new glasses. She was squinting at the tiny lines of text below Daniel’s last upload.
“Some people are so mean,” she said. Charla was about to read the comments out loud, but Daniel walked away. He flopped down on the beanbag chair at the farthest end of the boxcar.
“Haters gonna hate,” he told us with a shrug. “That’s what haters do best.”
“They’re probably just jealous,” I said as Charla closed out the comments. “I mean, Daniel slipped into the number one slot of a hashtag that’s been around for years.”
Daniel had changed a lot since we first met. I loved that he was sharing this relaxed side of his personality with the rest of Greenfield.
Thinking about Daniel and about how horrible people could be online made me wonder about our school newspaper. I’d pushed hard for the Greenfield Gabber to have an online version so we could cut down on the amount of paper we were wasting with print editions. We’d begun to post some articles online, which was awesome. Everyone had opinions though, and it seemed like no one online was shy about sharing their thoughts. If Gabber articles had room for comments like Daniel’s social posts, I’d be afraid to see what people wrote about my work.
I took my phone back from Charla and made a note to talk to Ms. Surovsky, my English teacher and the head of the newspaper. I wanted to make sure we didn’t ever open the articles up for comments.
Daniel was being cool about the mean things people said, but I knew I’d get my feelings hurt. If someone wanted to talk to me about something I’d written, I hoped they’d do it to my face. I preferred conversation, rather than anonymous criticism.
“Let’s talk about Connor Wright,” Daniel said. “Did you get tickets to his big show?”
“I did!” I said. “My whole family’s going.”
Connor Wright was an actor, and he was starring in a musical called Drop In. It was about a young athlete who dreamed of skateboarding in the Olympics. I’d read online that they used special effects to make the stage feel like a real skate park. The reviewer said that the most amazing effect was that the performers didn’t actually use skateboards. Instead, the dancing drew on skater moves. That’s all I knew. I didn’t want to accidentally read spoilers. I was excited to see the show and find out what happened.
When the show was announced, it seemed like no one in town could stop talking about it. After all, it wasn’t every day that such a big production came to Greenfield. My fourteen-year-old brother, Henry, did that teenager thing. He pretended he wasn’t excited to go, even though I knew he’d been a fan of Connor’s for years—ever since he had heard that the actor grew up in Greenfield.
My sister, Violet, was ten, and she had memorized all of Connor’s lines when he was a guest actor on her favorite detective show. He’d played a bank robber who got arrested in the end. It was just one episode, but she’d watched it over and over.
My little brother, Benny, was only six and hadn’t been allowed to see the TV shows Connor had acted in, but Drop In was family friendly, and he couldn’t wait to see it. He wanted to bring Connor homemade cookies and give them to him outside the stage door after the show. I wondered if the cookies would make it that long. Benny was always hungry.
“I keep forgetting to tell my mom about the tickets!” Charla said with a sigh. She turned to me. “Jessie, please remind me.”
“Yeah,” I snarked. “I’ll put a note next to your glasses.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me to go to the show?” Charla rolled her eyes. “’Cause that’s the way to guarantee it.”
We all laughed.
“You know,” Daniel said, “Connor Wright’s not his real name.”
“Grandfather told me,” I said. “He used to coach baseball, and Connor was on his team. When Connor started at Greenfield Middle School, he decided he wanted to do theater instead, so he dropped out of baseball.” I liked that he’d gone to our school. “Back then, Connor’s name was Chris.”
“‘Connor Wright’ is an awesome actor alias,” Daniel said. “If I was on TV, magazine covers, and now in a big musical, I might change my name too.”
“To what?” Charla asked.
“Maybe…Dan,” Daniel said. He let the name roll off his tongue. “Dan Garza.”
“Wow,” I said with a smirk. “That’s a pretty big change from your normal name. Do you think you’d ever be able to get used to it?”
Charla snorted.
“Very funny,” Daniel said. “Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Sure,” I replied. “I think you should call yourself ‘Danger.’”
“Danger Garza?” Daniel shook his head. “Danger? Do you know me at all, Jessie? You must be thinking of my doppelgänger in opposite world.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” I asked. “Pick a name that gives you a new persona?”
“Me? Dangerous?” He laughed loudly. “Never.”
“I’d change my first name to Clarisse,” Charla said. Clarisse Potter was a famous computer coder from Greenfield and Charla’s personal hero. “I could honor her with my stage name.”
It was my turn. “I’ll never need a pseudonym,” I said. But then I let myself think of all the famous reporters on television and in newspapers around the world. “I wonder if there are journalists who created new names for themselves when they hit the big time.”
“On it,” Charla said, clicking my computer keyboard. “It’s not recommended. Real names give a level of trust.”
“I guess I’ll keep my own name—” I began.
“Unless,” Charla cut in, “we gave you a nickname…like Jessie ‘Scoop’ Alden.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t be a hater, Jessie. I dig it,” Daniel said. Watch barked. “Watch digs it too.”
Feeling confident that Watch was paying attention now, Daniel tossed out, “Hey, Watch. Knock, knock…”
The dog silently sank down onto the boxcar floor.
“Oh well. I tried,” Daniel laughed. He gave up on Watch and turned to me and Charla. “Did I mention that Connor’s sister has been giving acting lessons during theater club?”
“No way!” Charla exclaimed loud enough that Watch looked up at her.
“Frances is a very good performer herself,” Daniel told us. “She hasn’t found the spotlight like her brother, but she’s had some small roles in community productions. I’m learning a lot from her.” He added, “She likes to joke that she taught her baby brother everything he knows.”
“Frances Wright?” An idea began to take shape. I opened my phone and started a new notes page. “How well do you know her?”
Daniel shrugged. “I’ve only had one lesson so far, but there will be more.” He saw the glint in my eye. “Jessie, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“And what I’m thinking too?” Charla put in.
“Are you both thinking that maybe Frances could introduce me to her brother, Connor?” I asked. “The family is connected to Greenfield Middle School, and a profile of a huge celebrity would be a major scoop!”
“Yeah,” Charla said, smiling. “I knew that’s what you were thinking.”
“Wait? What?” Daniel looked aghast. “That’s not what I thought at all! I thought Jessie wanted to tell jokes with me in my next video!” He began to laugh. “Kidding. I knew you’d want to get an interview. I already asked. Frances said she could probably make it happen.”
I jumped up and hugged him so hard we both toppled back into the beanbag chair.
“Jessie ‘Scoop’ Alden.” Daniel put his serious face on and announced, “This could be your biggest story yet!”
Chapter 2
An Unexpected Audience
Monday morning, Daniel’s fame at school had increased, thanks in part to my keen video skills. And Watch’s fine acting. And Charla’s magic editing, of course. Oh, and Daniel deserved some credit too, I suppose. He was the star of the production, after all.
“High five,” an older boy called out as we stood by Daniel’s locker.
Charla had even made herself a shirt that said #GreenfieldGoofs.
On the opposite end of the fashion spectrum, I was wearing another of Henry’s castoffs: a blue-and-yellow-striped T-shirt that was a little too big. I’d tied the side up with a spare ponytail holder and put on leggings. Comfy and casual, that was me. Plus, I liked that wearing hand-me-down clothes was better for the environment than buying new ones.
And then there was Daniel. He was wearing black pants and a black shirt, as if he wanted to fade into the hallway shadows or was ready for a nighttime spy mission. While he did like spying, I assumed he had dressed this way for the other reasons. School Daniel was so shy, he’d have gladly disappeared if he could.
He gave the guy a reluctant air high five back and mumbled, “Thanks.”
Of course, when he turned back to me and Charla, Daniel was smiling.
“Admit it,” I teased him. “You like the attention.”
“I—” he began to protest but then said, “Yeah. I like it.” He smiled even brighter.
“Jessie’s powers of observation can’t be matched,” Charla said with a chuckle.
Another kid threw up a high five as they passed and shouted, “Funny vid, dude!”
“It’s stressful to be both uncomfortable with the sudden popularity and comfortable with it at the same time,” Daniel said as we headed off to class together. “How am I doing?”
