"So?"
"So, we have to make sure no one does."
"How are we going to do that?" he asked.
"Glad you asked. Gossip runs through this town like a flood. Usually the rumors are about you, your Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,family, or me. Now we'll be the ones to spread them about ourselves."
"What will we spread? How can we convince people not to buy the Mansion?"
I hated to disappoint him. He was so proud of his grandmother's mansion. Just as I adored it, he obviously did even more.
"Have you been around this town?" I asked. "I can't imagine anyone would be interested in buying the Mansion anyway, with all the rumors surrounding it for years. But now that it's for sale we can't take any chances. We have to spread our own. Verify the Mansion is worse than they thought.Bats, mold, or rusty pipes, None of these women would step one of their Prada-wearing feet inside even view it."
Alexander's pale face lit up.
"But what if someone from outside of town comes to take a look."
"They have to stop at Mickey's gas station. Or stay al Dullsville's bed and breakfast. They'll find out fast enough about the money-pit mansion and then we'll be able to heat their tires screeching away."
He picked me up and kissed me for a long time.
"Where do we begin?" he asked with renewed hope.
"We'll have to set everything in motion tonight. We can't waste any time."
Alexander and I met Matt and Becky by the fountain al Dullsville's town square.
Matt was in his jersey and soccer cleats and Becky had her pink sweater tied around her waist.
"Thanks for helping us, guys." I said. "We can cover more terrain if we have more mouths."
"We'd do anything to help Alexander stay in town," Becky said.
"Now, the key spots for tonight are the square and Dullsville's country club," I told them. "I'll cover school tomorrow."
"Matt can get the two of us into the club," Becky offered. "No problem."
Sporting soccer cleats and dirt-stained elbows at the conservative club were even more favorable than a black lace bodice and combat boots.
"Meet you back here in an hour," I said.
Alexander and I took the north side of the square, while Becky and Matt took the south.
We popped in and out of boutiques fake browsing and zealously talking about the miserable condition of the Mansion. The sight of Alexander and me together on the square was enough to get gossip going, but the fact that they had inside dirt-literally-on the Mansion made every patron's and salesclerk's ears perk up.
"Missionaccomplished," I said as Alexander and I headed back to the fountain.
"Hey- you got Shirley's side," Becky said, already waiting.
"We planned on that," I said, nudging her,
"My treat."Alexander spoke with the same authority as a coach buying his players food after a win.
"No one ever listens to what I say," my shy best friend said as we headed into Shirley's. "But when we brought up the Mansion and the cracks in the foundation-everyone in the restaurant heard."
"It could have been because you were almost screaming," Matt said, "And we didn't have a reservation."
Just then an elderly couple sitting at a small table sharing a sundae glared back at us.
The woman said, "I think I heard that girl say that mansion has cracks in the foundation."
"I know," the man replied. "I thought he said his girlfriend ran screaming from it."
I gave Alexander's hand an extra squeeze and the thumbs-up to Matt and Becky.
Assorted dripping ice creams in tow, Becky drove us to Dullsville's country club, which was a snobby members-only club sprawled out over several acres. It included indoor and outdoor tennis courts, an eighteen-hole golf course, a gift and pro shop, and a four-star restaurant. Signs about the upcoming Annual Art Auction lined the grass like it waselection day .
"We'll wait here," I said to Matt and Becky.
For a few minutes, members with tennis rackets, golf clubs, and yoga mats were coming out of the club- returning from workouts like it was their job. When it quieted down, a couple carrying boxes filled with pottery struggled to open the front door. Alexander jumped out of the truck and opened the clubhouse door for them.
"That is as close as I could get without a white shirt," he said when he got back into the truck. We held hands with crossed fingers until Becky and Matt returned.
By the time I got home, word had traveled so quickly about the undesirable money pit on Benson Hill that my parents had already heard the news and were greatly concerned.
"Maybe you shouldn't return to the Mansion." My mother confronted me as I started for the stairs.
"Why?" I asked.
"I heard the walls could fall down at any minute."
"I thought you didn't believe in gossip. Besides, who told you that?"
"That doesn't matter," she began, then shouted,
"Paul- "
"But the game's almost over-"he hollered back.
"Paul, this is important."
My dad reluctantly joined us, clutching the remote like it was a lifeline.
"It's about Raven visiting the Mansion," my mom said. "I think until Alexander moves, it is best they spend time over here."
"You can't ban me from the Mansion!" I exclaimed.
I had no idea my plan would work so well. But now it was working against me.
"That house is in dire straits," my mom went on.
"I thought it was pretty sound. It was old and dusty, but I think it was as sturdy as a castle," my dad said.
"See!" I pleaded.
"But there were bats," my mom argued. "You both saw them."
"But I love bats."
"They are flying rodents," she challenged.
"Not all of them."
My parents both looked at me curiously.
"Sarah, can we discuss this later?" my dad suggested.
"Mom, those are just rumors. You've taught me all my life not to believe the negative gossip in this town. Are you telling me, in this case, that your own advice has been wrong?"
For a moment, my dad was no longer interested in the game's outcome, only in my mother's response.
"Fine.Rumors are just that. I was inside the house, too. And it was a wonderful house."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, and took off for my room.
"But just as a precaution," she called, "maybe you and Alexander could start hanging out in his gazebo."