The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)(4)

“It allows people to manually set the time. It’s designed for people who are chronically late. They can set their phone to be five, ten, fifteen minutes ahead, whatever they want, to trick themselves into being on time.”

“Did you install that app?” Bess asked.

Maggie shook her head. “No, definitely not!”

“Maybe someone deliberately put it on your phone to make you late!” Bess suggested.

“Did you let anyone use your phone today?” I asked, as I checked my blind spot and swerved into the next lane to get around the slowpoke driver in front of me. I knew from my time in Miss Taylor’s class that ballet was extremely competitive and people would do anything to get ahead, but something like this seemed completely out of line. I didn’t understand who would want to get ahead by hurting people.

“Nancy’s in detective mode already!” George said. “She’ll figure out who sabotaged you in no time.”

“Thanks, Nancy,” Maggie said, “but this is no mystery. I know exactly who did it.”

“Who?” Bess asked.

“Fiona Scott,” Maggie replied, practically spitting the name. “She’s my understudy. If Jamison doesn’t let me perform tomorrow for Oscar LeVigne, Fiona will go on instead.”

“That reminds of me this old movie I watched with my grandmother, All About Eve. It’s about an understudy who schemes to take over for the star without anyone knowing,” George said.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a movie,” Maggie lamented.

“How do you know it’s Fiona?” I asked. I had learned over the years that the first person someone suspects is usually the wrong one.

“This isn’t the first incident that’s happened on this tour. In Fairview, my wig went missing thirty minutes before the start of the performance. Fiona had to step in, since her wig is two sizes smaller than mine and there wasn’t an extra. Then in Bristol someone told our hotel’s front desk to give me a wake-up call every two hours the night before our show. The next day I was so tired, I fainted backstage during intermission and Fiona had to take over in the second act.”

“How has this girl not been kicked out of the company?” Bess fumed. Her face was red with indignation. Bess hates anything that isn’t fair, and cheating drives her especially crazy.

“There was never any proof,” Maggie said. “Plus Fiona’s parents are major academy donors. Their money helps pay for Jamison’s salary. He is never going to punish her without evidence and risk losing her parents as benefactors.”

“I’m sure Nancy could end this once and for all,” Bess said.

“I’d be happy to look into it,” I offered.

“It’s okay,” Maggie said. “This is our second-to-last stop on the tour. I’d rather just focus on dancing and stay out of Fiona’s way. I don’t want to make her any angrier.”

I caught Bess’s eye in the rearview mirror. Next to me, George was looking at me the same way. None of us thought Maggie’s plan was a good one. From what she had said so far, Fiona seemed ruthless. Maggie couldn’t be careful enough!

But before I could say anything further, we were at the theater. I screeched to a stop.

“It’s too late!” Maggie said. “Three twenty.”

“You have twenty-eight seconds till it turns three twenty-one,” George said, holding up her watch. “I’ll run in right behind you to prove you made it in time.”

“We all will,” I said.

We jumped out of the car and Maggie sprinted up the steps, with George, Bess, and me right behind her.

Maggie flung open the door and raced through the lobby.

“Fifteen seconds!” George shouted breathlessly.

Maggie made it to the theater entrance and threw open the door, stopping so abruptly that I almost plowed into her. I looked up and saw why she had stopped so suddenly.

The entire cast—roughly thirty-five girls and a handful of boys—stood staring at Maggie, in complete silence. There was a mix of horrified looks on their faces as well as the occasional gleeful one. The back of Maggie’s neck was bright red, and I imagined that her face was as well. This wasn’t a room you wanted to walk into late.

Only one person wasn’t looking at Maggie. Standing with his back to us was a man with blond hair. The cast members kept shifting their eyes from Maggie to him and back. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pleasant when he finally did turn around.

After what seemed like several minutes of awkward silence, George cleared her throat. “I have the most accurate watch money can buy. . . . Maggie made it here with five seconds to spare. She should get to dance tomorrow.”

Slowly the man turned. In front of me, Maggie caught her breath. Bess squeezed my hand.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie squeaked.

“You’re sorry?” the man asked in an eerily calm voice. His entire body was held so rigidly, I didn’t understand how he’d managed to turn around so smoothly. It looked like he was rotating on a lazy Susan. His hair was slicked back and he had piercing blue eyes with extremely well-defined cheekbones. He was handsome, but severe. He also didn’t seem like someone you wanted to be on the bad side of, which, unfortunately, was exactly where Maggie was standing.

“You’re sorry?” he repeated, a smidgen louder than before.