Page 66 of The Game Is Afoot

I’m still standing there, processing, when Jack and Pearl reach me.

“Mavis, are you—”

“You solved the mystery, didn’t you?!” Pearl squeals. Her eyes are bright and her dimple is deep, and that nearly wipes out all the annoyance and anger and what-the-fuck-ness left behind in Trisha’s wake.

“I did,” I say, and she looks at me like I’m one of the tween girls on Disney Channel. Or Shrek. “It turns out Anabella’s mommy did something not so nice to get Anabella the Annie part. But I don’t think Anabella knew, so you don’t have to be mad at her.”

Is it a little immature that I kind of hope she is, though? If only so I don’t have to regularly interact with her best friend’s mom anymore.

She shrugs. “I’m not mad at Anabella. I just wanted to know why she was Annie ’cause she can’t sing.”

I don’t know, that side-eye from just a short while ago told a different story…

“Right, Mommy? You heard she can’t sing? When you were sneaking during our rehearsal? Mason told me he saw you hiding in the curtains last week.”

My eyes flick to Jack, and yep, there’s definitely some disapproval there. Nota lot. It’s nota problem. But I can feel it in the way his eyes don’t crinkle and those two parentheses don’tappear around his lips. I mean, I guess Ididjust get into a verbal altercation in front of his place of work, which really isn’t helping my totally sane, totally healthy argument here. It wasn’t my fault! But, still…

“You aresocool, Mommy.”

“Did you hear that?” I elbow Jack, searching for that smile. “I’m cool. I’m a cool mom.”

His eyes curve into half-moons and I want to jump up and do a cheer. “You are the coolest mom.”

Pearl scoffs, “I wouldn’t gothatfar, Jack.”

—

Florence organizes a special soccerpractice for the Aquamarine Alligators—on Sunday, of course, to avoid another run-in with Dom’s band of capture the flag enthusiasts. And I consider asking her how she got tangled up with Trisha, and if it has something to do with Mr. Forest’s sketchy casting, too. But as I watch her cheering the kids on to “Be your best selves!” and “Keep your lights shining bright!” while they haphazardly run through the aesthetic burlap flags she brought instead of neon cones, I think better of it. It’s only going to get me into some long, drawn-out conversation about Axel’s sensitive spirit and how hard it is on her mama heart to gently shepherd him to his one true purpose, and I do not have the energy to keep my face together for that. I already know Trisha is a self-serving asshole who probably did something terrible to get what she wanted for her kid—I don’t need additional evidence and mind-numbing small talk to prove that. Also, I already have another, much more important, mystery on my plate, so it’s time to move on from that one. Case closed. Cool mom, signing off!

“Good hustle, Alligators!” Hank shouts, cupping his hands into a loud clap. “Finish strong!”

“If that is what your bodies are telling you to do!” Florence chimes in.

“Push yourselves! Your body is going to thank you tomorrow!”

“But it’s okay to take a break, too! You are all winners already, just for trying!”

“Winners have discipline! You wanna win? You gotta earn it!”

I feel like I’m getting a part two of their walkie-talkie fight…or probably a part two hundred and sixty-five, by the sound of it. It must berealbad if the cracks are showing in public, where it could hurt Florence’s shiny Instagram image. And again, I should feel guilty at the little spark of satisfaction I get from seeing their flaws, but this is like watching something on Bravo live, and I’m only so mature and evolved.

I look around to see if anyone else is enjoying the show, and that’s when I seeanothershow happening. I’m stalking over there faster than you can say “I need Andy and a camera.”

“So it’s been confirmed, one hundred percent, that it was a burner phone?” my dad asks as I walk up, motioning his microphone back to Leon.

“And can you repeat what the texts said again? I’m worried the kids may have contaminated our sound,” adds my dad’s best friend and podcast partner, Bert. I thought it was weird that Dad brought him along today, but now I know why.

“Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut,” Leon says loud and slow, his lips almost touching Dad’s mic. “Or. Else. And then there were a few expletives. Are you sure you want me to say those?” He looks around warily at the parents and children nearby.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Bert says, adjusting the massive Beats headphones that are sitting on top of his graying fade. “And feel free to really sell—”

“What is going on?” I cut him off. “What texts, Leon?”

“Oh, Irene got an update from the detectives. They found threatening texts on Cole’s phone, and they traced it to a burner bought at a CVS in Beachwood.”

“What?!” My mind races to catch up. Someone was threatening Cole before he died? That’s huge. “You found all that out, and you’re telling…them?”

Leon shrugs. “Well, your dad asked first.”

---