Page 1 of Script Swap
Chapter 1
“But I’m not the same old Dashiell Dawson Dane,” I said as we made our way along the sidewalk.“I’m different.I’m better!”
“Like your hair,” Millie observed in a voice that was slightly too enthusiastic for my taste.
“Not like—”
“It’s pointier!”
I spared her a withering glance, but it bounced right off.It must have ricocheted out into the street, though, because a red-faced, sweating Deputy Winegar, who was on tourist duty—which mostly consisted of making sure nobody got run over—glared back at me.
At least, Ithinkhe glared.
And Ithinkit was Deputy Winegar.
Beyond five feet, everything got a little fuzzy.
“And those stupid clothes,” Keme said, pulling his hair away from his neck and fanning himself.Usually, Hastings Rock had perfect evenings in August—warm during the day, and then cooling off at night—but a recent heat wave had made the days and nights simmer, and as a result, everyone’s blood was on the brink of boiling.
“These clothes are not stupid,” I said.“They’re mature and professional and—and hip!”
“That sweater makes you look like those dads who don’t have real jobs and play Xbox all day and smoke a lot of—” But he cut off with a sidelong glance at Indira and mumbled whatever he’d been about to say.
Fox snorted.
“Keme,” Indira murmured.
Outrage left me speechless, but I managed, “It’s called a cardigan, and it’s cute even in summer—”
“The new contacts are nice,” she said as she patted my arm.
“Thank you.”
“For a nerd,” Keme said.
“Bobby!”
“You’re very handsome,” he said dutifully.
Lest I be distracted from my real goal this evening, I asked for approximately the millionth time, “Why do I have to go?”
“Because you’re the guest of honor,” Fox said.“The play is based on your life.”
“But it’snotbased on my life because I refused to give Pippi those stupid life rights.What did I do to deserve this?Why did they have to write a play about me?I hate attention.I hate people looking at me or talking to me or thinking about me.Why didn’t anyone write a play about Keme?”
Nobody seemed eager to reply as we made our way down the street.
“I’m serious,” I said.“I’m a good person.I mind my own business.I don’t bother anyone.”
“You don’t always mind your own business,” Millie said.“Remember when you told that lady at the library she was hogging all the Clancys?”
“Shewashogging all the Clancys!Take one.Take two.But don’t takeallof them.”
“You bother me.”That was Keme’s input.“Pretty much all the time.”
I chose to ignore that.“I solved a murder!I solved a bunch of murders!”
“Yeah,” Keme said in a tone that suggested this was a case-in-point example of me bothering him.“We know.”
