A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(2)

It was impressive, really: the vehicles, the bright lights, the crew members wheeling crates and trunks of equipment around, the tangle of wires running all over the ground.

“Wow,” I said. “Making a movie is a lot more complicated than pointing a camera and yelling, ‘Action!’?”

“No kidding,” George muttered. “I just wonder how they feed all the actors.”

Ned grinned. “There are pots of coffee and pastries, George.” He pointed to a table covered in breakfast goodies that was set up near the entrance to the train station.

“For us?” George’s eyes widened with joy.

“That’s what I heard!” Ned laughed. “Plus, isn’t that Mayor Scarlett chowing down on a bagel over there? She isn’t part of the crew.”

“If you say so, Ned!” George trotted off happily.

I smiled at Bess. We both knew that the best way to improve George’s mood was by promising free food.

As George waited in line for breakfast, I noticed a fortysomething woman in a wide-brimmed straw hat and brightly colored floral pants speaking angrily to Mayor Scarlett. I was toying with the idea of trying to get closer to hear what she was saying when something bumped softly into the side of my head.

“Oops, sorry,” a voice apologized.

I turned to see a pale girl in her early twenties holding a metal pole with a professional-looking video camera attached to the top of it. I could barely see her features underneath her heavy, dark-rimmed glasses. A lone wisp of her chestnut-brown hair was visible from underneath a white baseball cap.

I suddenly recognized the girl’s face. “Cora? Cora Burgess? Is that you?” I asked.

She nodded, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m Nancy Drew, Carson Drew’s daughter. Alex used to work for my dad.” I stuck out my hand.

She raised her eyebrows in recognition. “Oh, right. Hi, Nancy.” After a few seconds of awkward silence, she took my hand in a feeble shake. Cora was Alex’s younger sister, and I’d met her a few times when she visited her brother in my dad’s office. As I remembered, she hadn’t been terribly friendly back then, either.

Just then George returned with a cinnamon roll in one hand and a croissant in the other. “You guys should get over there if you want some. All the good stuff is going fast,” she announced.

“No thanks,” Cora replied, looking disgusted. “That food has been sitting out since, like, six a.m.”

“Hey, as I remember, it was your dream to go to film school, Cora,” I said, changing the subject.

Cora nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m in my second year. I’m doing a behind-the-scenes documentary about Alex’s movie this summer.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” Bess exclaimed, clearly impressed. Before I could introduce my friends, Cora said, “Excuse me, I have to get back to it. Nice to see you, Nancy.” She disappeared into the crowd.

“You’d think she’d be more excited about being behind the scenes on a real film set,” George remarked. Flaky bits of croissant fell onto her shirt, and she brushed them off.

“Well, it was her dream to be a filmmaker.” I shrugged. “Maybe she’s jealous that her brother just changed careers”—I snapped my fingers—“and is already directing a movie of his own.”

Ned smiled and patted my shoulder affectionately. “That’s our Nancy,” he chuckled. “Always looking for motives, even when there’s no mystery.”

Bess and George smirked. It’s true that I have a knack for sleuthing. My friends like to tease me about it sometimes, but when I’m working on a case, they’re always right by my side. Together we’ve solved more than a few big mysteries.

“Oh! There he is!” Bess’s excited shriek was nearly drowned out by a chorus of others. A black town car pulled up next to one of the trailers, and Brian Newsome stepped out. I could see why he was so popular. His dark-brown hair waved perfectly over his strong, square forehead. His sharp blue eyes had a friendly glint as he smiled, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. Ned ducked in front of the crowd to get photographs.

Bess jumped up and down, practically hyperventilating. “I can’t believe Brian Newsome is in River Heights right now!” she squealed. “I have to get his autograph and a picture of him and a handshake!” She hurried off behind Ned.

“We might need a medic for that one,” I joked to George, who shook her head.

“He’s just a person,” she repeated, “although, I guess he is cute in a famous-movie-star-kind of way.”

Moments later a blue sedan pulled into the parking lot and Alex, the director, got out of the passenger seat. He looked exactly as I remembered him: tall and skinny, with hazel eyes and stick-straight brown hair that seemed to be growing in every which way. He was wearing a plaid shirt, dark jeans, and tennis shoes. The driver of the car, a caramel-haired, big-eyed woman in her thirties, walked beside Alex. She was wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, and black sneakers, and she had a serious expression on her face. Finally a tiny, stunning young woman emerged from the backseat. She had the longest, curliest dark hair I’d ever seen, with olive skin and deep dimples in her cheeks. She was dressed in a ruffled blouse with jeans, accessorized with worn cowboy boots and a tangle of silver necklaces. Nobody paid much attention to this trio, however. All eyes were on Brian as he happily posed for photos with excited fans.