The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)(3)

“Cases?” Maggie asked. “Like a detective?”

I nodded as she tried to process this. People always seem surprised when they find out I’m an amateur sleuth.

“I do remember you always reading mysteries before class,” Maggie remembered. “What about you, Bess? You were a really talented dancer, if I recall.”

Bess blushed. “I just lost my passion for it. I felt like I wasn’t getting any better and I’d never be as good as I wanted to be.” She paused for a moment. “I do miss it sometimes.”

“Well,” Maggie continued, “Oscar LeVigne is a famous ballet critic. He’s known for spotting upcoming stars. A review from him can make or break careers. If I get a good one, there’s a really good chance I’ll be asked to audition for a professional company. If I get a bad one . . . I don’t even want to think about it.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” I said.

“Yeah, and we’ll be there cheering you on,” Bess said. “Just like we were at the recital when the ballet academy scout showed up all those years ago.”

Maggie gave us a grateful smile. “It’s so good to see you two. I’ve missed you.”

“You too,” Bess said.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get to rehearsal by three o’clock and I can’t be late. Jamison, our choreographer and my teacher at the academy, is really strict. You have to do an extra grand plié for every minute you’re late; if you’re more than twenty minutes late, you sit out the next performance. Maybe we could meet for dinner later?”

“That sounds great,” I said.

“Wait,” George interrupted. “Did you say three o’clock?”

Maggie nodded.

“But it’s ten after three right now!” George exclaimed, holding out her watch.

“What!?” Maggie practically shrieked. “My phone says it’s ten after two!”





CHAPTER TWO





Frenemies


GEORGE HELD OUT HER WRIST. “This is a satellite watch. It’s accurate to the nanosecond,” she said apologetically.

“No, no, no. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening,” Maggie repeated as if in a daze.

“Come on,” I said, jumping up. “My car’s right out front. Where’s the rehearsal?”

“At the River Heights Performing Arts Theater,” Maggie replied breathlessly.

“Okay, if we hurry, I can get you there in ten minutes. You’ll be punished, but you won’t have to sit out the next performance.”

“Thank you so much!” Maggie said, springing up and shrugging on her coat. Bess, George, and I followed suit.

“It’s going to be tight,” Bess whispered into my ear as we raced toward the car. She was right. We would need to get really lucky to make it there in less than ten minutes, but it was worth a shot.

We piled into my car, George riding shotgun with Bess and Maggie in the back.

I started the engine and pulled into traffic.

“Take a left on Maple,” George said.

“Are you sure?” I asked George. “The most direct route is down Elm.”

George nodded, staring at the GPS on her phone. “There’s construction about a mile down Elm. It goes down to one lane. Maple’s faster.”

I nodded and checked my blind spot before slipping into the left lane.

Maggie was still in a daze. “I just don’t understand how this happened,” she murmured.

I didn’t either. I had never heard of a cell phone being off by an hour. I thought they were all connected to one tower. Maybe they weren’t as accurate as George’s satellite watch, but they shouldn’t be that wrong.

“Bess,” I said, as I hung a left onto Maple, pushing down a little harder on the gas. “Take over navigating for George. Maggie, give George your phone so she can figure out how this happened.”

They exchanged phones, and out of the corner of my eye I could see George’s fingers tapping and swiping the screen, moving so fast they were almost a blur. A bomb could have gone off and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Right on Oak,” Bess shouted from the back. Oak was in just a few feet. I hit the brakes and took the corner faster than I should have.

I checked the rearview mirror and could see Maggie chewing on her lip, doing her best to hold back tears. She let out a muffled wail. “We only have four minutes! We’re never going to make it.”

I pushed down a little harder on the gas. “We’re cutting it close, but it’s not hopeless,” I told her. I was now going four miles over the speed limit. I knew Maggie wanted me to go faster, but if I got pulled over—or worse, got in an accident—that would just make us even later.

“There!” George suddenly exclaimed, thrusting the phone behind her to show Maggie and Bess.

“What are you showing us?” Bess asked.

“See that app there? TikTok?”

In the rearview mirror, I could see Bess and Maggie peering forward. “I see it!” Bess said. “Nancy, left on Spruce.”

“Got it,” I said, maneuvering into the left lane. “How does the app work?” I asked George.