Page 33 of The Game Is Afoot

“Do. Or do not. There is no try.”—Yoda

Nine

“Hey, Mommy. I have anew mystery for you to investigate.”

Pearl and I are walking to school—well, I’m walking and she’s scootering—because this is something we have time to do now that I’m unemployed. It felt peaceful, the first peeks of sunshine on my face, the cool morning air that hasn’t had a chance to turn too warm yet and remind me I need to be worried about climate change. My heartbeat—which, it turns out, has a setting other than thunderous—has slowed even more, and my breath was smooth and normally paced. I was just thinking,Wow, I could get used to this.Is this how those enlightened white ladies—the YouTube yoga lady with the dog, Tanya from the meditation app, evenBethany…is this how they feel all the time?

But now I’m ready to switch right back to unenlightened Mavis again becausehow does she know?Corey and I agreed that we wouldn’t tell her anything about the police visit, and he doesn’t know that I’ve decided to look into this myself. Did sheoverhear my dad working on his stupid podcast? He always forgets to plug his headphones in.

God, Pearl has been through so much these past months, and this is just further evidence that I wasn’t doing a good job of protecting her. How much I’ve been dropping the ball…

“It’s the mystery,” she continues, “of why Mr. Forest gave Anabella the lead inAnniewhen she can’t even sing! She sounds like…like—permission to say that bad word you taught me?”

“Permissionnotgranted.”

Intense relief (mixed with amusement and slight horror at this child’saudacity) makes my voice come out all strangled.

“Well, she sounds bad, and I think there’s something suspicious going on. Because…someoneelseshould have been Annie. And it makes me feel like I’m—I’m inthe red zone!”

That much is clear from the tight grip she has on her scooter’s pink handlebars and how she is furiously pumping her leg. I also can probably guess who she thinks should have been cast as Annie instead.

“Watch out!” I warn as she almost takes out an Australian cattle dog being walked the other way. I wave an apology at its pajama-wearing owner.

“No, Anabella needs to watch out!” Pearl snaps. “Because someone is going to do something about this, and that someone isyou, Mommy!”

“Oh my god. Where did you come from?” I ask, because what do I even say to that.

Pearl throws me a side-eye over her shoulder. “Your belly!”

I laugh, and she scoots faster, throwing her head back as she breaks into song. Each note is louder, more dramatic than the last, as if Mr. Forest is walking with us and this is her moment to prove just how wrong he was.

“Wem-blee! Wem-bleeeeeeeee!”

She takes one hand off her handlebars to hold up her pointer finger like Mariah Carey and just barely dodges a woman pushing her kindergartener in a stroller. I jog to keep up with her, and as sweat drips down my back, I start to regret this whole walking-to-school business.

“Wem-bleeeeee-eeeee-EEEEEE-eeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“Is that one of the songs fromAnnie, baby?” I ask once she reaches the corner and has to stop.

“Oh, no. I heard Daddy say that on the phone. Wem-blee. It sounded funny.”

Wem-blee?Now, why does that sound so familiar?

But then I get a flash of another phone call of Corey’s I overheard, years ago. His agent calling to tell him he’d been chosen for a big pop star’s band on the international leg of her tour. The first stop: Wembley, a huge stadium outside London. He was so excited to play there for the first time that he didn’t notice how upset I was about him leaving, again.

There’s only one reason Corey would be talking to someone about Wembley. Because he got another offer, another opportunity he can’t pass up—another reason to leave.

I shouldn’t even be surprised, but I am. He made a promise—not just to me this time, butto Pearl. How can he go back on that so easily? After only a few months…Pearl was just getting used to him being here. I was, too.

I’m all flustered, as worry and anger and sadness swirl in my chest, but luckily Pearl doesn’t seem to notice. She’s scooting ahead and has moved on from herAnniebeef toanotherbeef she has with Mrs. Tennison, who apparently still owes them a pizza party for good behavior, which she promised a whole month ago.

“—and she didn’t even care when I reminded her that my birthday is on Sunday and that would be the perfect occasion for a pizza par— Ahhhh! Ew! Eeeeeewwwww!”

Her scrunched-up face—and the smell—quickly give away what she rolled her scooter through on the sidewalk. But her disgust seems to be rapidly shifting to excitement.

“Permission to say that bad word you taught me?!”

“No. The answer is still no.”

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