Does that mean he’s on my side?
Does that mean he knows the truth about how I found myself here in Tinsel Hills?
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Never been more sure in my life.”
And when he starts the engine and eases the limo onto the street, I collapse against my seat, feeling like I can finally breathe.
I’m going home!
To Greentree!
And I can’t get there quickly enough.
The streets are clogged with traffic, which would normally only add to my anxiety, but as long as we make it by one minute past midnight, when the ticket expires, I figure I’m good. The plan is to get there and find a place to lie low until the trolley arrives and hauls me right out of this life.
I pull my hoodie up over my head, prepping for the moment when the most famous teen in the world (me) attempts to go incognito. Then I sink down low in my seat and reach for what will probably turn out to be my last can of Mojo while I cradle my backpack on my knees as though it might try to flee.
Too bad I couldn’t pack a bigger bag and take some of the awesomeness with me. But unfortunately the makeup, hair, and wardrobe people decided to arrive early, leaving me no choice but to sneak out when no one was looking.
The real Dougall would love the Xbox I got the other Dougall for Christmas. I found it in my room today with a sticky note attached, reading THANKS, BUT I ALREADY HAVE ONE.
And my dad could really use a fat wad of Ben Franklins to deal with his back taxes and year-end financials.
But Holly would’ve hated the Vespa. Turns out, it’s pink.
And my mom would’ve felt really uncomfortable wearing something as fancy and expensive as the diamond necklace I gave Eileen.
Not to mention how impossible it would be to explain all those things.
Still, it’s kind of funny to have owned all the cool stuff money can buy, only to return home with the same stuff I arrived with and feel perfectly okay about it.
Besides, the return ticket is my most valuable possession anyway.
I trace the edge of the pocket where I stashed the ticket, reassured by the feel of it crinkling inside, as Sparks comes to a stop, slips from his seat, and walks around to my side. But before he can even reach for the handle, I’m opening the door, leaping toward freedom, only to gape in horror when I see he betrayed me.
“What the heck?” My first instinct is to pummel him, but he’s ten times my size. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I’m transfixed by the sight of Ezer’s mansion looming large before me. “You work for me—not Ezer, me! And I’m ordering you to take me to the trolley stop immediately!”
But no matter what I say or how loudly I say it, Sparks is impenetrable. He just continues to watch me from behind his mirrored lenses. “You sure you got everything?”
“What? Of course! Now let’s go, before someone sees me!”
I start to climb back inside the limo, but Sparks stays put.
“Maybe you should double-check, Nick.”
The way he says it makes my heart squeeze and my skin go all weird and tingly. Then he nods his head toward my bag just the tiniest bit. I’m overcome with this awful gnawing feeling—like my stomach grew teeth and they’re cannibalizing me from the inside out.
I unzip the pocket, shove my fingers inside, and come away with a palmful of air, a stray ball of lint, and an old movie ticket stub I mistook for my ticket.
How can this even be possible?
It was in there last night before I went to bed, just after I came up with my plan. I checked to make sure!
I force the pocket inside out, and still all I unearth is another ball of lint and a really old gum wrapper with more lint stuck to it. So I reach for my backpack. Even though I’ve never once moved the ticket, that doesn’t stop me from dropping to my knees and dumping the entire contents of my bag onto the ground, scrambling through every single item, if only to confirm that the return ticket is gone.
I gaze up at Sparks. Desperation doesn’t even begin to describe the emotions raging inside me.
The side of his mouth twitches like he’s just about to speak when Ezer opens the front door and calls for me to come inside immediately.
“Where is it?” I whisper, convinced Sparks has something to do with this. How else would he know the ticket was missing? “Please—if you know who took it, you’ve got to tell me. And if you took it, you need to return it!”
Sparks kneels down and helps me stuff my things back inside, as though they got there through some kind of unfortunate mishap.
Ezer calls from the doorway again and tells us to hurry. But Sparks just waves him away and leans toward me. “I didn’t take it, Nick. But if you think about it, I’m sure you’ll discover who did.”
“Wait—what? What does that even mean?” My voice is frantic and shrieky, betraying the full extent of my panic.
“Think, Nick.”
So I do. I conduct a full mental inventory of everyone who had access to my house.
The list is long.