I nodded. I still wished he’d called to say he wasn’t coming, but that was my own feelings. I had to stay objective. Moving on.

  “So you aren’t recasting his role?” Daniel’s question was direct and to the point.

  “Absolutely not,” Marcia said, looking straight into Daniel’s eyes with a hard stare.

  Daniel blinked first and turned away. “I’d have been perfect for the part.” He grinned as if the entire question was a joke and he was kidding around. Which, I knew, was only partially true.

  “Are you an actor?” Marcia asked Daniel.

  I thought about my fame theme. This director was famous in the theater world, and Daniel was just one more person who wanted something from her. It wasn’t any different than the way Daniel’s fans wanted to work with him on videos. A tangled web.

  Charla pulled out her phone and showed Marcia the footage she’d shot at Daniel’s acting lesson with Frances. The one where he repeated the same line over in different ways.

  “Impressive,” Marcia said. Then she said the nicest thing she could have ever said to my friend. “That special thing that Connor has…I can see it. You have it too, Daniel. You could go far if you want to.”

  I seriously thought Daniel might faint. His face turned red, and he actually had to wipe real sweat off his forehead. I wondered if we would need to call an ambulance.

  “Thank you,” he managed to say.

  Marcia stood up. “I have to get to rehearsal now.” She turned to me. “Jessie, I look forward to reading your article.”

  Charla said, “Bye and thanks.”

  Daniel muttered something unintelligible. He was too awestruck to channel his outgoing side. Staring at the floor, shy Daniel let her go without a word.

  When she was gone, we relaxed at the table.

  “She was so nice!” Daniel gushed. “She said I have the ‘it’ factor!”

  “Me and Charla already knew that,” I told him.

  “It’s better coming from her,” he replied. “No offense, Jessie. But someday she might hire me.”

  “I’ll hire you someday,” Charla said. “You can make balloon animals for my future kids’ birthday parties.” She added, “Maybe put on a little magic show too?”

  Daniel sighed. “I’ll be too busy on the stage in New York City,” he said. “Bring the kids. I might autograph your program.”

  The two of them made me laugh.

  As we settled into a more serious conversation, I wondered if we’d all been too taken with Marcia’s fame and charm to sift through what she was telling us. She’d said everything was fine with Connor. She’d sort of implied that he wasn’t missing, though she hadn’t truly fought back on the rumor. Her answer had been “Why are people talking about him missing? He’s a busy guy,” not “He’s been to every rehearsal. Never missed a beat. In fact, I’ll prove it!” She could have shown us photos or video or called him from the table.

  We’d discovered nothing new.

  I was disappointed. All I had for my feature was that everyone in town loved Connor. He was great. Might have vandalized the school once. Might be missing. But mostly, he was terrific.

  I scrolled through my phone’s notes, wondering if I’d missed anything that I should be following up on and thinking about how to shape my article in light of this new interview.

  Charla’s phone buzzed.

  She set it down on the table so we could all see the new video the Cellar Dweller had posted.

  “It’s not a recording,” Charla said as we leaned in. “This is live.”

  “I’ve never done a livestream,” Daniel said, disappointed that he hadn’t thought of it first.

  “Seems risky,” I said. “Easy to mess up or say something wrong.”

  “True…” Daniel seemed to be making a mental pro and con list.

  The Cellar Dweller was in a room, standing on a stage, not outdoors or somewhere public. There was a curtain hanging behind him, and Daniel noted the lighting.

  “Looks better than before. They really do know what they’re doing,” Daniel said. “I can’t compete with this.”

  “It’s not a competition,” Charla assured him. “You be you. Everyone loves your videos.”

  “I don’t know what to think.” Daniel’s frown grew as the Cellar Dweller began to dance. There was a tap dance number to start, then they did a backflip and started break-dancing.

  “Whoever it is, they’re really good,” Daniel said, watching the number of viewers increase.

  When it was over, the Cellar Dweller looked directly into the camera. They weren’t even breathing hard after all that dancing.

  “Be sure to show me some love with that like button,” they said in the same altered voice they had used before. “I’m taking over and going straight to the top on #GreenfieldGoofs.” The performer leaned in for an extreme close-up. “Daniel Garza, watch your back!”

  Chapter 8

  Digital Detectives

  “Charla was wrong. It’s definitely a competition.” Daniel’s nervous, shaking knees vibrated the table. I grabbed my water glass so it wouldn’t spill. “If it wasn’t, why would the Dweller say my name?”

  “It’s just some anonymous person on the internet.” Charla tried to sooth Daniel’s nerves. “Whether or not you get the most likes in Greenfield doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you saying they’ll get more likes than me?” Daniel retorted. “Do you like this act better?”

  “Whoa, dude.” Charla put up a hand. “Not what I am saying at all.”

  The article I’d been working on unfolded in my head. This was the truth behind all fame. It was about who got the most people to like them. The #GreenfieldGoofs rankings were truly a popularity contest, and Daniel had been winning all the attention. Now, he had competition.

  My head was packed with ideas and I needed to dump them into my notes. I knew exactly how to frame my feature article and I didn’t want to forget. I made an empty page and started typing as fast as my fingers could handle.

  “The Price of Fame: Is It Worth the Cost?”

  I’d start by talking about Connor Wright. I needed more there because I was going to highlight his history around town and his need to leave if his star was going to rise. I’d do more interviews to fill this part.

  Next, I’d transition to Daniel. I’d write about Daniel’s fans at school, the autographs in the hall, and the candid photos in the lunchroom. Then I’d transition back to Connor.

  What price did he pay? Was it similar? I needed to find him and ask.

  But I could say this: He’d left his family, his friends. He’d left everything behind. And when he came back, people acted as if he were made of gold.

  Now, the rumors that Connor was missing were everywhere. And it was seeming more and more likely they could be true. That was the terrifying side of it all: having your own life be so public that it doesn’t feel like it belongs to you.

  Where was Connor Wright?

  I closed my notes.

  I liked how this article would unfold. It was a feature on Connor with a look at Daniel as the comparison, and the theme of fame would attract readers.

  When I finally looked up and refocused on my friends, Daniel’s seat was empty.

  “Where’d he go?” I asked Charla.

  “He went home,” Charla told me. She shook her head. “He said bye, but you were typing and muttering and not paying attention.”

  “I’ll apologize to him later,” I said. “The feature article was becoming clearer in my mind and I had to get my outline down.”

  “Your brain is a mystery,” Charla said with a sympathetic grin. “Daniel wasn’t mad. We’ve both seen that look in your eyes when you disappear from the room and dive into your thoughts.”

  I was glad my friends understood. We all understood each other. This was another time for Daniel to brood and process his feelings about the video we’d just seen.

  “Let’s go to the boxcar,” Charla said. “Cellar Dweller posted a video of the livestream after it was over. I want to see if I can figure out the Dweller’s location.”

  “Ah, computer stuff. Sounds like…fun.” I mocked her excitement, but really, I hoped she’d find something that might identify the performer.

  As we settled in, Charla said, “I have dinner with Mom tonight. We’re dressing up fancy and going out on the town.”

  “Sounds great,” I said. “Send me photos!”

  “I will,” Charla said. “I’m actually wearing a dress instead of a homemade T-shirt.”

  “Classy!” I gushed. “I can’t wait to see the pics.”

  “I’ll send before and after shots.” Charla sat in my computer chair and fired up my laptop.

  I shut the boxcar door. The squeaky rattle of the door on the hinges was like a symphony to me. I closed my eyes and felt the rattle echo.

  “Sounds like fingers on a chalkboard,” Charla said as she muted the Dweller’s video and let it run.

  “I wish you could hear what I hear,” I told her. The boxcar was my special place.

  Charla shook her head. “You’re so strange.”

  “Yes,” I said, agreeing. “But so are you.”

  “Touché,” Charla said, then she got wrapped up in what she was doing.

  After a moment of intense concentration, Charla raised her head. “Jessie, come look at what I found.” Her fingers flew over my computer keyboard. “The location data shows that the Cellar Dweller is local.”

  “Greenfield? Or nearby?”

  “Greenfield for sure,” Charla said. “They’re using #GreenfieldGoofs, so it makes sense. I just wanted to be sure.” She shook her head. “The performer didn’t strip the metadata. Everyone knows you need to strip the EXIF data before posting a video!”

  “Yeah,” I snorted sarcastically. “Everyone.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean you,” Charla said with a chuckle. “But a big-time social star who’s sharing videos with a huge audience should know better. When you have location information on your video, people can find you. It’s how pop-up concerts attract a billion fans. Or how random people track celebrities on vacation.” She shook her head. “I always remove the data from Daniel’s videos.”

  “Can you smooth out the voice?” I asked. “Maybe we could figure out the real tone?”

  Charla tried a few things, then told me, “It’s too distorted.”

  “Anything else to know?” I asked.

  “I think we need to pay really close attention to any future videos,” Charla told me. “Whoever this is seems really hung up on Daniel.”

  “Should we worry?” I asked. We should go to the police if we felt like he was in danger.

  “No…” Charla began, then she paused as if she might change her answer.

  “What’s going on?” I sat on the edge of the desk and looked down at the computer screen.

  “There’s a new video of Daniel.” Charla squinted at the screen. “It’s grainy and taken from far away, but we’re in it too.”

  “Not one he posted?” I asked.

  “It’s anonymous.” She turned the screen so we could watch together.

  It was us all right. At lunch with Marcia Harris. Whoever took it had been in the restaurant. The video focused on the part where Daniel suggested he take over for Connor if Connor was out of the show. The sound was really hard to hear, but whoever made it added subtitles.

  I didn’t know how they’d heard us, but the words scrolling across the screen were right on.

  “How? What? Why?” I rattled off bits of questions. Nothing made sense.

  “Yikes. The comments are awful,” Charla told me. “Some people are saying Daniel has something to do with Connor’s disappearance.”

  “We don’t even know if he’s really missing!” I shouted. I was so angry, I felt like I might explode. “We need to march down to that theater and have Connor show his face to the world. That’s the only way this ends.”

  I jumped off the desk where I’d been sitting and began to pace.

  Charla calmed me down. “We should head to Color Wash and check on Daniel instead. If he’s seen this and read the comments, he might be even more upset than he was earlier.”

  I agreed and went immediately to open the boxcar door while Charla started to shut down my laptop.

  “Uh, Jessie.” She called me back over to the screen. “The Cellar Dweller is live again.”

  “This can’t be good,” I muttered, taking a spot behind Charla to watch.

  Same stage. Same goofy, distorted voice.

  “Greenfield! If you were planning to see Drop In, you can forget it,” the Dweller growled. “Rehearsals are canceled. The show is canceled. Everything is canceled. Why? Because that hack Connor Wright is out of the picture, and I can guarantee he’s not coming back.”

  The Dweller started dancing in place. “No one needs to see that overhyped junk,” he continued. “There are better things to watch online. Just check #GreenfieldGoofs.”

  “Whoa.” I backed away from the computer while Charla powered down. “That was intense.”

  “We better get to Daniel’s fast,” I said. The rumble of the boxcar door was no longer soothing to me. I was too wound up. The creaks and rattles were grating my bones. “I’m not saying that they just confessed to a crime, but if Connor Wright really is missing, the Cellar Dweller is now our number-one suspect.”

  Chapter 9

  Another Direction

  We called Daniel.

  No answer.

  Charla texted.

  Nothing.

  So we headed over to Color Wash, hoping he was there. Fingers crossed he hadn’t seen the video of us at the café or Cellar Dweller’s livestream. It would be nice if we could be there to cushion the blow with some of Violet’s best double-chocolate cookies. We had a dozen and were ready to comfort our friend.

  As we walked there, Charla asked me, “Could the Cellar Dweller really get the musical canceled?”

  “I think if Connor Wright is out of the show and there is no replacement, the show would have to close.” That meant the Cellar Dweller not only had to get rid of Connor but also make it so there could be no replacement. “I’ve never seen a show close before it opened,” I said with a sigh. “Though I’m sure it’s happened before.”

  “Never in Greenfield,” Charla said, and I sighed again.

  “Who do you think is behind the mask?” Charla asked. “Anyone we know?”

  “Frances? Marcia Harris?” I rattled off the first names that came to mind. “Topher? I mean he used to do shows in his basement, and a cellar is a basement, so that seems like a big clue.”

  “It could also be someone we don’t know,” Charla pointed out.

  I thought about it more and said, “Even Grandfather is suspicious at this point.”

  Charla laughed. “Grandfather? How’d you get that?”

  “Well, I’ve never seen him and the Cellar Dweller in the same place at the same time. He has a phone with a video camera. He loves theater.” I’d never seen him act, but he did dance when he was younger. “He lives locally…”

  “I get the point,” Charla said. “The Cellar Dweller could be anyone.” She stopped on the sidewalk and turned to me. “It’s not me.”

  “I know!” I said. “I was standing next to you during the livestream.”

  “Right.” She pretended to be relieved as we kept going toward the art store. “Just making sure.”

  “Besides, you’re not that good of an actor.” I winked at her.

  “True,” she replied. “Neither are you.”

  “We’re off the suspect list,” I said firmly.

  “And that only leaves the rest of Greenfield,” Charla said, opening the door to Color Wash. “Ohh…I have an idea. Maybe it’s Daniel?” She winked at me, then repeated herself loudly so Daniel could hear. “The Cellar Dweller could be Daniel! He told Marcia Harris he wanted Connor’s gig if Connor was out of the show. Maybe his competition with the Cellar Dweller is fake. The Dweller could be Daniel, in disguise, trying to throw us off his track.”

  “Ridiculous!” Daniel stomped out of the back room. “I’m not the Cellar Dweller.”

  “Prove it,” Charla said, giggling.

  Daniel thought for a second. “First, the store doesn’t have a basement. Second, I have an alibi. I was hanging those paintings when he went live.” He pointed at two landscape scenes that were crooked on the wall. “I left them like that when I jumped down off the ladder to see what was going on. The notification I set up on my phone was pinging over and over.”

  Daniel showed us a long scratch on his leg, now covered by a row of Band-Aids.

  “I was so upset that I backed into the ladder, knocked it down, and scratched up my leg.” He moaned. “Mom says I might need a tetanus shot. She’s calling the doctor.”

  “The proof you aren’t the Cellar Dweller is that you’re bleeding?” Charla asked.

  “And that my mom was here the whole time,” Daniel told us. “She’s my witness. Plus, I don’t have a swishy black cape costume. I wish I did though.”

  “Daniel’s off the list,” I said.

  “Seriously though, there are still so many possibilities for the Cellar Dweller’s identity,” Charla said. “I think we’re stuck.”

  “You said you saw the livestream?” I handed Daniel the cookies. “We brought these to cheer you up.”

  Daniel took the bag from me and said, “I’m not sad. I’m annoyed. A little mad. A tiny bit scared that the Dweller seems to be threatening both me and Connor.” He considered if there was anything else. “I’m also jealous. I knew I couldn’t be the Greatest Goof forever, but I didn’t want it to end so soon.” He wanted to know if he could keep the cheering-up cookies even though sadness was the one thing he didn’t feel.

  “Only if you share,” Charla said. We each took one and sat on the floor.

  “Did you see the video of us at the café?” I asked Daniel.

  He waved it off. “As if I’m behind Connor’s disappearance…” Daniel licked his lips and took a second cookie. “I’m twelve years old! Connor is fifteen years older. I mean, not that I’d turn down a starring role, but why would anyone cast me and Connor for the same role?” He snorted. “I’ve never sung. Not a single dance lesson. Plus, I’ve only been acting for six months. I mean, Marcia said I have that special something-something, but still…” Daniel winked at us, then groaned. “Some people write absurd comments.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11