The Secret Talent Read Free Page B

Vanderbilt Place
    Can you make it?
    A chance to meet Adrenaline Dennis and possibly make friends who wouldn’t send my clothes for a swim? Of course I could make it! I’d wrestlealligators and cross a river of lava to make it.
    I was just about to respond when a new text popped up from an unknown number.
    It contained only three words and one image.
    Hey, Twinkle Toes.
    The image was of me at dance practice.

CHAPTER
2
Twinkle-Toes Tim
    I flipped my phone facedown, but the text still flashed bright as a supernova in my mind.
    Hey, Twinkle Toes.
    I’d never told anyone this, but I had big dreams of becoming president someday. The name Twinkle-Toes Tim could not follow me into the Oval Office.
    With a nervous glance around, I turned the phone back over and studied the picture that followed the text message. From the wild state of my hair, I’d say it was taken in the last hour (I use nine-to-five hair gel, and it pretty much givesup right on schedule). Plus, the particular move I was doing was part of the kalamatiano , the final dance we’d practiced. Why, oh, why had I insisted on throwing in a twirl?
    Someone had followed me all the way across town. Or they’d been lucky enough to catch me in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had I done anything else embarrassing, like pick my nose? Were they still watching me now?
    I scanned the room. Other than my family, the only person in the yogurt shop was a man who looked so old he was probably still sending messages by telegraph.
    I picked up my phone, fingers flying across the screen as I texted the mystery number.
    Who is this?
    A couple minutes went by. The old man snored at his table. Chocolate War melted in my cup. Then the response:
    You’ll find out tomorrow.
    â€œNope,” I muttered. “I’ll find out now.” I dialed the number, but the mystery texter refused to pick up. Smart.
    Not so smart? Forgetting to change his voicemail greeting.
    â€œWhat uuup? It’s Ryan. I’m way too busy to answer, so leave me a message.” His voice took on a forced casualness. “Or don’t. Whatever.”
    Ryan Durstwich. I should’ve figured.
    The voice mail beeped, and I started talking. “Wow, Ryan, cool greeting. This is Tim, by the way. You know . . . the guy you’ve been sending creepy messages to?” Gabby was walking toward me so I spoke in a softer voice. “I’m not scared of you, and if you want to go up against me, you’d better bring your A game.”
    I ended the call and stared at the picture of myself again.
    At least my arms looked good.
    Gabby dropped into a seat across from me, eyes shining. “Mom and Dad are making lobster mac ’n’ cheese tonight!”
    One of the best parts of having parents who own grocery stores is no shortage of good food. Normally, I’d be just as excited as she was, but at the moment I was distracted by Ryan’s texts.
    â€œAwesome,” I said, giving my sister a thumbs-up.
    My phone chimed with a new message from Ryan.
    You aren’t scared yet, but you will be.
    â€œWho’s that?” asked Gabby, tilting her head to read my screen.
    â€œNobody,” I said, pocketing the phone. “Some girl I met today.”
    Gabby rolled her eyes. “Another one? Would you get a girlfriend already?”
    I shook my head. “It’s too close to Christmas.If it didn’t work out, her present would be a breakup.” I stood and tossed my yogurt cup into the trash. “Ready to go?”
    Gabby looked toward the garbage. “You only took, like, one bite, and you’re not excited about lobster mac ’n’ cheese? What’s going on with you?”
    â€œNothing,” I said. “My stomach just hurts from all the dancing.”
    â€œOh.” She made a face. “Well, sit in the front seat on the way home. I don’t want you barfing on me.”
    â€œHow did I ever get so lucky in the sister