The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)(20)

“I wanted to dance some performances on this tour, so sure, I took her wig that one time and set up some fake wake-up calls, but I would die if I had to dance tonight. Oscar would eat me alive. I don’t need to read about how not talented I am!”

“Then why did you install that app on her phone that made her late? You knew Jamison was going to bench her!” I countered.

“I didn’t do that,” Fiona said. “I admit that I always enjoy seeing Jamison yell at her, but I can barely figure out how to put a filter on a photo. I wouldn’t even know what app to download to do what you’re talking about.”

Just then the door opened and dancers came pouring in, Jamison leading the way. He reminded me of the Pied Piper leading the children out of Hamelin.

“Everyone, back to your places!” he yelled. “We have wasted enough time.”

Maggie, Bess, and George rushed over to Fiona and me.

“All right!” George cheered. “Your trap worked!”

I looked at Fiona, suddenly doubtful I had caught the right somebody.

Before I could say anything, though, Maggie snatched her shoes out of Fiona’s hands. She looked so angry, I was worried she might slap Fiona.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Maggie hissed.

“I’m sorry I played some jokes on you, even though, really, you should be thanking me. You’ll be hazed way worse when you join a professional company. I toughened you up, but whatever. I swear I’m not trying to ruin your performance for Oscar tonight.”

“Then why did you sneak in here during the fire alarm to take Maggie’s lucky shoes?” I asked.

Fiona looked around to make sure no one was watching, then leaned in closer.

“I wasn’t trying to take the shoes. They were just in the way. I was trying to take this.”

She reached into the piano bench and pulled out a strip of photos, the kind taken in the photo booths that you see at amusement parks or weddings.

These photos were of Fiona and Colin. In the first one, they smiled. In the second one, they stuck their tongues out. The third, they held bunny ears over each other’s heads, and in the fourth they kissed.

Maggie’s eyebrows shot to the top of her head, and her jaw literally dropped open. “You and Colin are together?” she asked, sounding completely scandalized.

“Shh!” Fiona hissed. “No one can know! I hid the photo strip in the piano bench. I was worried that you would find it when you went to get your shoes back, so I used the fire alarm as an opportunity to take them, but then your hired goon confronted me.”

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. “Were you at Hugo’s last night with Colin’s dad?” I asked.

Fiona nodded. “But Colin wasn’t.” She looked at Maggie. “Please don’t be mad at Colin,” she said.

“Why would I be mad at Colin?” Maggie asked. “I like Colin.”

“I know,” Fiona said. “And he likes you. I don’t even think it was really personal. He was just lashing out. You know how he gets when he’s angry, and yesterday after his dad showed up and threatened to never let him dance again, he was so upset.” Fiona looked down at the ground, fighting back tears. “He was saying how it wasn’t fair. All your dreams were coming true with Oscar coming to the performance and everything, and all his dreams were being ruined.”

It took a second to click into place, but I realized what she was saying. “Colin destroyed Maggie’s dressing room, didn’t he?” I asked.

Fiona nodded miserably. “It was so scary.”

“I don’t get it,” Maggie asked. “I thought Colin and I were friends.”

“You are. He was out of control. Your dressing room was just in the wrong place. I knew I had to do something to try to help him. I convinced his dad to meet for dinner. I wanted to persuade him to come to the show tonight. I thought if he saw Colin dance, he would realize how good Colin is, and maybe he’d change his mind.”

She looked at the ground. “But I don’t think I got through to him. He just kept saying how embarrassing it was to see his son in tights.”

She took a deep breath. Tears leaked from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She clearly cared a lot about Colin. I looked over at Maggie, whose face had softened.

“I know Colin’s really sorry about your dressing room. He’s planning on writing you a letter of apology, promising to pay for the damage.”

Maggie nodded, obviously still trying to make sense of everything that Fiona had just said.

Fiona looked up at the stage. “Your scene is next. You’d better get to the wings before Jamison flips his lid.”

“You’re right,” Maggie said. She hurried backstage, and Fiona followed her.

George, Bess, and I sat in some nearby seats.

“So,” George said, “case closed? Whatever Fiona didn’t do was Colin acting out because of his dad?”

I thought about it. It certainly explained some of what had happened to Maggie, but not all of it. And, more importantly, it didn’t feel right. I had learned to trust my instincts when it came to solving mysteries. Usually everything fit together, and there were no more niggling doubts in the back of my mind. I didn’t have that feeling now. Colin destroying Maggie’s room had been impulsive and irrational. Everything else that happened to Maggie—that is, other than the pranks Fiona had confessed to—had been planned out; there seemed to be a purpose behind it.