Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘Um … yeah, he’ll be okay with it.’ I tried to sound casual, but my voice went up in that liar way. I pointed at Felix. ‘I’m his date.’


‘Riiiiight …’ Dusty looked dubious, but he drove off anyway. I guess as limo-based shenanigans go, kids mooching free rides wasn’t such a big deal.

On the way to Digby’s, I gave Henry a summary of what I’d overheard. Henry was worried at first, but his irritation took over.

‘Man! You’d think because he knew Musgrave’s after him, Digby would at least try to show up to school. See? Remember what I said? How Digby sucks you in? This is it. It’s happening,’ Henry said. ‘We should be going to the dance to have a good time, but we’re in Digby’s world now. I mean, I haven’t even told you hello or how nice you look. I’m obsessed with Digby’s problems. See this tie? It took seven tries to tie it. I was too worried about Digby to concentrate on the instructions. Hello, by the way. You look very nice. Great feathers.’

I worried Mr Fong would notice our little drama. ‘Okay, calm down,’ I said. ‘We’ll just tell him Musgrave’s coming and we’ll get out of there. It’ll take a second. Not a big deal.’

Henry’s phone chimed. He typed a response. ‘It’s Sloane. We’re late. She’s not happy.’

I wished for all four limo tires to go flat.

Digby’s was the lone dump on a nice block. It had a shattered upstairs window, a roof with missing shingles, and skinny saplings sprouted in the rain gutters. There was a FORECLOSURE FOR SALE BY BANK sign on the scrubby lawn.

Musgrave was already on the porch when we pulled up.

‘We’re too late,’ I said.

‘Dusty, can you go around the corner?’ Henry said.

Felix barely noticed us getting out. His dad was telling him that on future dates, he should bring chocolates. Allergen-free, just in case.

Henry and I went down the back alley and peeked over the fence from Digby’s neighbor’s yard.

Digby’s front door opened for Musgrave. A woman, very thin, heavily made-up, and wearing a silk turban, answered the door. She held a glass, and had on a full-length muumuu and teeter-totter heels.

‘Val,’ Henry whispered. ‘That’s Digby’s mom.’

‘She’s going out,’ I said.

Henry shook his head. ‘She’s always been kinda eccentric … and after Sally disappeared …’

At the door, Val said, ‘Yes, may I help you?’

‘Mrs Digby? Harlan Musgrave. I’m the Special Resources Officer at your son Philip’s school. I’m here to talk about his recent behavior,’ Musgrave said.

‘How wonderful! The personal touch,’ Val said. ‘Oh, do, do come in. How wonderful of you to come all the way here to keep me informed.’

Val’s entire speech came out in one long shriek. Musgrave took a giant step backward.

‘Uh-oh. Val’s having a manic episode,’ Henry said.

‘Is she foreign?’ I said.

Meanwhile, Musgrave said, ‘Oh … I didn’t realize Philip’s mother was British.’

‘Oh, hahahaha! You funny, funny little man! It’s a shame Americans so often mistake proper enunciation for a British accent,’ Val said.

Musgrave backed down the stairs, freaked. ‘Maybe we should arrange an in-school conference instead.’

Val lunged for Musgrave’s arm and pulled him toward the front door. Musgrave’s other hand patted his hip, probably looking for the gun he remembered from his cop days.

‘Don’t be silly! I couldn’t let you go without at least a drink. I was settling in for a quiet evening with the telly, but we could have a party instead!’ Val was pulling so hard, her heels crunched into the floorboards.

‘Come to think of it, it’d best if we handled this on school property.’ Musgrave finally twisted out of her grip and ran back to his car. ‘We’ll be in touch, Mrs Digby.’

Before I could digest the weirdness of what I’d just seen, I heard Digby PSSST-ing for us to come over to the garage behind his house. I was sad to note I lost two more feathers as I brushed past the bushes.

‘Is he gone?’ Digby said.

‘Musgrave? Yeah,’ Henry said.

‘Come in before someone sees you,’ Digby said.

We followed him into the garage, where the weirdness got weirder. The windows had insulation taped up against them. The white Chevy we drove to the break-in was parked with its doors open and a sleeping bag spread out in the backseat. Next to a table saw, a lit camping stove heated up a can of beans. There were clothes everywhere – shirts hanging to dry and boxer shorts soaking in the sink.

‘Is this what you’ve been wearing?’ Henry pulled out a black suit jacket from a box labeled GRANDPA JOE.

‘You live in your garage?’ I said. ‘Does your mom know you’re in here?’

‘Does she even know you’re back in town?’ Henry said.

‘You saw her. I’m not sure she’s in town,’ Digby said.

‘Housekeeping problems? This is what you meant?’ I said. ‘You’re homeless?’