Lei shook his head. “Dima, no.”
“But this is clearly a case for the Mystery Team.”
“No.” Lei waved his hands. “Every time you declared that we would get in trouble trying to solve your so-called cases—”
“We’re adults now.” Dima kneeled by a few of the daggers on the ground. “No one can whip us anymore when we get in trouble.”
I gazed at Lei. “The Mystery Team?”
“It’s a thing Dima would declare when he thought there was some big case to solve. He started doing that when we were thirteen.”
“Eleven,” Dima corrected and picked up a dagger. “TT, did you notice that there are things written on the daggers? At least some of them.”
“Yes.” TT continued to bring out more and more. “Some have lines that are crisscross like a spider’s web.”
“Others have symbols like this.” Dima held it up to her. “Like hieroglyphs, but not. They’re. . .symbols that the Bandit knew the meaning of. I bet they represented things that only she knew about.”
TT widened her eyes. “Her men too. She told them everything.”
Dima tilted his head to the side. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve read a copy of the Bandit’s Gospel at least ten times. Banks wouldn’t let me bring it today because I was going to read it again. I knew the cookout would be boring.”
“Ten times?”
She went back to pulling out more daggers. “But I didn’t have to.”
Completely intrigued, Dima watched her. “Why not?”
She just took out daggers and placed them on the ground, probably not even hearing him anymore.
Dima looked to me.
I answered for her, “Her teacher and I think she has a photographic memory.”
Dima went still. “Really?”
TT was still pulling out the daggers, her focus so intense that it was like she was in another world. The daggers kept coming, each one more intricate and puzzling than the last.
Wow. . .how many are there?
Dima watched her with a fascination that was hard to ignore.
Suddenly, TT paused in her task for just a moment. “I don’t have a photographic memory.”
Dima didn’t take his eyes off her. “Why do you say that?”
She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “Because. . .I forget things. I don’t remember everything perfectly and sometimes. . .things get mixed up in my head.”
Dima rose and moved closer to her. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a photographic memory. It just means your brain works in auniqueway and. . .there’s nothing wrong with that.”
TT kept her eyes down on a dagger in her hand. “But people think it’s weird. They already think I’m weird, so. . .I don’t like when the teachers tell Moni stuff like that. And. . .I don’t have a photographic memory.”
My heart clenched at her words. TT had always been different and while I loved that about her, I knew it made her life harder. Kids could be cruel and I hated the thought of her feeling like she had to hide who she was to fit in.
Dima’s expression hardened. “Well then, TT. I can call you TT? Right?”
“Yes.”