The Mistaken Masterpiece (34 page)

Raf turns to me and says, “Do you realize what this is? This is an
original
lobby card for
The Maltese Falcon
.”

“I thought we were getting him a poster,” Becca says.

I nudge her. “A lobby card
is
a poster.”

“I knew that.”

“Leigh Ann told me you’re really into the classics from the thirties and forties,” Cam says. “I looked for one from the original
Frankenstein
—I heard you talking about going to see it with Sophie—but posters for that are
impossible
to find.”

“Yeah, and they’re worth, like, three hundred grand,” Raf says.

The kid
knows
his movie memorabilia.

“Margaret remembered that you like this one, too,” Leigh Ann says. “She said you quoted some line from it once.”

“It’s the stuff dreams are made of,” says Raf, doing his Sam Spade imitation. “Trust me, this is
perfect
. It’s amazing. You’re serious—this is really for me?”

“Absolutely,” says Cam.

“Told you,” Becca says to Margaret. “I knew it would push him over the edge. He’d pose in a tutu if we asked him now.”

“Don’t push your luck, Becca,” Raf says.

Five minutes later, I’m standing nice and tall, holding the bowl at eye level. I’m trying my hardest to look serene, but it’s not easy with all those people shouting directions at me. Finally, I resort to my hasn’t-failed-me-yet
technique of taking several deep breaths. I gaze down at Raf’s reclining figure as he plays a little tune on the flute.

“Beautiful,” says Becca, snapping a picture.

“You guys are
perfect
,” Leigh Ann adds.

I couldn’t agree more.

For exactly one week, my life is wonderfully, remarkably, surprisingly, boringly normal. Not that I’m complaining. It was actually … nice.

There were:

No new broken bones.

No dogs waking me in the middle of the night, howling at the moon.

No masterpieces dangling from open windows.

The good news is that I have time to work on some new songs for the Blazers, which is what I’m doing when Mom walks into my room with the day’s mail. She flips an envelope onto my bed.

“This one’s for you, Soph.”

My name is printed in blocky letters that look like they were done by a first grader while riding in the backseat of a car—on a bumpy road.

“Oh, great,” I say. “Now what are those guys up to?”

“What guys?”

“Margaret and everybody. This looks a lot like the lettering on all those packages they sent me.” I tear it open, and I almost drop my guitar. “No. Way.”

“What? Something good?”

“No. Something
great,
” I say. “It’s from Nate. An invitation to a movie premiere next Thursday night. It’s animated, and he did one of the voices in it. He says it’s dumb.”

“A school night?” Mom asks.

“Well, yeah, but, Mom … this is like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Nate Etan wants us to go with him!” I hand her the note, printed in those same, barely legible letters.

Mom hands it back to me, unimpressed. “He’s not going to make you watch his dog again, is he?”

“So I can go, right?”

“I’ll talk to your dad.”

Whew! I
know
Dad will let me go. When I remind him what a good customer of the restaurant Nate is, he’ll have no choice.

• • •

The night of the premiere arrives at last. Margaret, Becca, Leigh Ann, and I leave our red blazers at home, because tonight we are the Red
Carpet
Girls. The limo doors swing open in front of the theater, and we do our best to look graceful as we crawl out. First to hit the carpet are Nate and Rebecca, who has declared herself to be his “official date” for the night. Next out is Cam Peterson, who takes Leigh Ann’s arm in his, followed by
my
date, the dashing Rafael Arocho. He reaches into the limo and takes my hand, and suddenly I just can’t stop smiling, smiling, smiling.

And finally, Margaret and Mbingu, whose fathers’ attitudes about dating are strikingly (and tragically) similar, join us as we prepare for the long walk down the red carpet.

But wait! I forgot someone. My newest friend steps out of the limo and smiles at me.

“This is
so
cool,” she says.

I take her by the hand and we start down the carpet. “Get used to it, Livvy. This is just a typical day in the life of a Red Blazer Girl.”

Michael D. Beil’s first Red Blazer Girls installment,
The Ring of Rocamadour
, was hailed as “a PG
Da Vinci Code …
with a fun mystery, great friends, and a bit of romance” (
School Library Journal
). The second Red Blazer Girls mystery,
The Vanishing Violin
, was similarly lauded, with
Kirkus Reviews
saying, “The red blazer gals feel and act like real tweens while tackling everything that comes their way with logic, humor and refreshing savoir faire.”

Mr. Beil, who teaches English and helms the theater program at New York City high school, has, in his own words, “too many hobbies to count.” When he’s not teaching or writing, he loves reading, skiing, sailing, cooking, playing cello, and hiking—including climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. He finds literary inspiration in everything from classic films to Charles Dickens to that beloved barrister, Horace Rumpole.

In a starred review,
Booklist
called for “more Red Blazer Girls, please!” Mr. Beil, never one to disappoint, is pleased to continue the series with a fourth adventure in the works (this one Christmas-themed).

He and his wife, Laura Grimmer, share their Manhattan home with dogs Isabel and Maggie and cats Cyril and Emma.