The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)(12)

Sebastian shrugged. “I guess.”

“I’ve been e-mailing, calling, texting. She never answers. What’s up with that?”

Sebastian fidgeted with his napkin and took a big sip of his water. “Well, you know, she’s a pro now. She’s busy.”

“Too busy to text her old friend?”

Sebastian shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

“Or does she not want to slum it with her amateur friends anymore?” Maggie said, visibly irritated.

“I thought we agreed not to discuss Veronica,” Sebastian said quietly.

“So,” Bess said, desperate to change the subject before it got any more tense, “how did you two get together?”

Sebastian and Maggie whipped their heads toward Bess in shock. Then they started laughing.

“No, no, no, no,” Maggie said. “Sebastian’s like my brother. I spent almost as much time at his house practicing with him and Veronica as I did my own.”

“Yeah, we’re just really good friends,” Sebastian confirmed.

Bess blushed bright red. “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s just that with the way you interact, I thought you were a couple.”

“It’s okay,” Maggie said. “It happens all the time. We were even called into Jamison’s office about it once.”

“What do you mean?” George asked.

“The school doesn’t allow students to be in relationships,” Maggie said.

“They kick out dancers if they’re caught breaking the rule,” Sebastian explained.

“Seriously?” George asked.

Maggie shrugged. “Relationships are a distraction, and if you want to be a professional dancer, you can’t afford any distractions.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with that. Ned had helped me solve many mysteries. Sometimes if I was at a dead end and convinced that I wouldn’t be able to solve a case, it was Ned who gave me the confidence to keep going. He never asked me to choose between him and sleuthing, and I had never considered him a distraction. If anything, he was an asset to helping me achieve my dreams.

“It takes so much discipline to be a professional dancer,” George observed. “No ice cream, no boyfriends, and I bet you don’t have a lot of time to play video games.”

“Nope, none,” Maggie confirmed with a smile.

“Yep, there’s no way I could ever do that,” George said, pulling her portable game system from her pocket and kissing it.

“It’s definitely hard,” Maggie agreed. “You sacrifice a lot, but when I’m on that stage, it’s an amazing feeling. Last year in a recital I danced a pas de deux—that means dance of two—from Swan Lake. Colin danced the part of prince and I was Odile, the evil swan, distracting him from Odette, the swan princess. And as I danced, nothing else existed; nothing else mattered. When the music stopped and the audience clapped, I literally jumped. I had forgotten they were there! For the five minutes of my solo, I was completely transported to a snowy kingdom. It’s a feeling I’ve never had doing anything else, and when I have it I know I’ve danced to the peak of my abilities.”

“I can get like that when I’m writing a computer program,” George said. “I just get so lost in the code that I lose complete track of time.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I feel that when I’m on a case and all the pieces start fitting together.”

“It happens to me when I play piano,” Sebastian concurred. “I think it’s something you feel when you’re doing something you’re meant to do.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that,” Bess said sadly.

“You will,” I said.

The server brought over our bill. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, placing it on the table.

Maggie reached for it first. As she lifted the check off the tray, her face turned white.

“Nancy . . . ,” she said.

I leaned over. On the tray under the bill was a note.

FOR YOUR OWN SAKE, DON’T

DANCE TOMORROW!





CHAPTER SIX





Dashing Through the Snow


I SCANNED THE RESTAURANT AND spotted our waiter, Chuck, in the back corner at the register.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, quickly pushing out of my chair and hurrying toward him.

“Excuse me,” I said. “We found—”

Chuck didn’t let me finish. “If there’s something wrong with your food, you have to complain before you get your bill. We can’t give discounts after we deliver the check,” he said without looking up.

I shook my head. “Our food was fine,” I corrected him. “We found a rude note under our bill.”

“It wasn’t from me,” he said.

“I didn’t think it was from you,” I said with a frustrated sigh. “But did you see anyone handle our bill before you delivered it to us?”

“Nope,” Chuck said, still not looking up from the register. I wasn’t even sure he knew what I was asking. He was just trying to get me to leave him alone as soon as possible.

I put my hand on his shoulder, shaking it gently. He looked up at me, clearly annoyed. “Can you please just think about it for two seconds?” I asked firmly.