The Great Shelby Holmes Read Free

figured that out, too.
    “When I was talking to the mover, your mom was twisting her ring finger, which no longer sports a ring. Force of habit, I presume. Six months ago?”
    “Seven,” I answered glumly. Which was also the amount of time since I’d picked up a pen. Until this morning.
    “My sincerest regrets.” She patted me on the back, which I could tell wasn’t a natural gesture for her. My own powers of observation told me that Shelby Holmes was not the touchy-feely type. And that she was disappointed her guess was wrong by a month.
    Shelby had already figured out too much, so I tried to not show any emotion on my face as I thought about Dad. He was such a huge part of my life on the army post. Well, of course he was—he was my dad. He worked in the recruiting office and had better hours than Mom, so I would see himmore. Then Mom went abroad and Dad was all I had until she returned. Now it was just Mom and me. Mom probably thought that being in a new home and city would make us miss him less. In fact, it made it worse. I felt even more alone.
    I didn’t want to think about that. It hurt too much. I also didn’t want Shelby to do any more of her Jedi mind tricks, so I tried to distract her.
    “What about your parents?”
    “Married.”
    “What do they do?”
    “They work at Columbia University.”
    “Figures that your parents are college professors,” I replied. Only two Ivy League brainiacs could produce someone like her.
    Shelby stopped quickly in her tracks. A high-pitched sound that resembled a laugh escaped her throat. “ My parents? You think my parents are professors? They are about as far from professors as it gets. How did you ever draw that conclusion?”
    Her laughter stung. “Well, you don’t have to laugh at me,” I snapped. “I was only asking you a question. You said they worked at Columbia. My sincerest regrets I couldn’t deduce their profession based on your shoelaces.”
    Shelby studied me for a second, and the scowl that had formed on her face had softened. “I wasn’t laughing at you.I was laughing at the idea of my parents as professors. My father is the officer manager in the administration department, while my mother works as an assistant in the financial aid department. We live in the same building, so there’s a distinct probability you’ll meet them soon, as well as my brother, Michael. He’s sixteen. Anything else?”
    “Ah,” I stammered, not expecting her to be so open with me.
    “I’m … I’m sorry.” Her face scrunched up as if the word sorry caused her pain. It probably wasn’t a word she used often. “I’m not used to people in my age bracket wanting to get to know me. They usually stay far away from me when they know what I can do.”
    I was about to apologize to her, but her attention wasn’t on me anymore. She was looking at flyers that had been posted on an abandoned storefront. It was like she was searching for something. Or it was possible she was simply bored.
    I couldn’t imagine being bored in a place like New York City with so many places to go, even though I was too intimidated to go to any of them by myself.
    “Where do you go to school?” I asked.
    She yanked down an outdated flyer. “I’m pleased to inform you that we’ll be attending the same school.”
    “How did—” I started to ask, but realized she must’ve seen something in our apartment.
    Mom spent months researching schools in New York City before we moved. The Harlem Academy of the Arts, a charter school only a few blocks from our apartment, was first on her list. As she kept telling anybody who asked, it had “an excellent academic as well as arts curriculum.” I’d been accepted into the creative writing program.
    It figured that Shelby would be in an academically challenging school. I simply hadn’t pegged her as someone with an artistic side.
    “Violin,” she answered before I even had a chance to ask. “I also dabble in acting. It’s good practice for