Truly Devious (Truly Devious, #1)

by Maureen Johnson

Dottie sat, and the famous Mr. Ellingham leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and bringing his large, suntanned hands together in a knot. Dottie had never seen anyone with a suntan in March before. This, more than anything, was the most powerful sign of Mr. Ellingham’s wealth. He could have the sun itself.

Most principals probably didn’t think of learning as a game, but no one would contradict the great Albert Ellingham. If he said learning was a game, it was a game. If he’d said learning was a roller-skating elephant in a green dress, they would go along with that too. When you have enough power and money, you can dictate the meanings of words.

Her mother gave her that look again. We kind of wanted the going-out, shopping, prom-going type, and we got this weird, creepy one, and we love it but what is it talking about, ever?

A table full of teeth is a table full of teeth.

Where her books were, she was.

same

Get the books right and the rest will follow.

This is when things will change. The detective had arrived at Ellingham Academy.

“The girl detective needs her breakfast.” Stevie smiled right back as she poured the milk and replaced it. “Daddy issues needs his therapist,” she said.

This was maybe the kind of place where you didn’t joke about the buried bodies.

Stevie had no fears of the dead. The living, however, sometimes gave her the creeps.

Nate exhaled long through his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Anything is better than doing what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Nate was a rain cloud, but he was her friendly rain cloud, and the world needs some rain.

“I think you worry too much,” Stevie said. “Of course I worry too much,” Nate said. “But I’m usually right. The people who worry are always right. That’s how that works.”

Some people want to go to see the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben. Some people dream of their proms or their someday weddings. Some people dream of going up in a hot-air balloon or scuba diving in clear Caribbean waters. Everyone has a dream place, and Stevie Bell was climbing into hers.

Hayes had a smile like a hammock—just get in, go to sleep, forget your troubles and cares.

Larry walked toward her. He did not run. You ran when you needed help. You walked when you had to start carefully containing the scene.

The moon was thin like a hook, and the owls were calling. The smell of fall leaves blew on the wind and Hayes was dead.

Life comes at you fast, and games of telephone, even faster.

Stevie said stuff like that all the time and was told she was wrong. David said it once and he got a nod and a compliment. Oh, the magic of dudes. If only they bottled it.

Just a girl and her doorknobs and zombies.

That musk of aged things was present, but the atmosphere had climate and humidity control, so instead of being stale and hard, there was a sweetness to the attic. The rich even decayed well.

Either Hayes went into the workshop or he was speaking to Beth at 1:20 a.m., but he wasn’t doing both. And the one he was most likely doing was the one someone saw him do. Which meant someone else put that dry ice in the tunnel but made it look like Hayes did it. Which sounded a lot like murder.