Page 25 of No Words

I swung around to see one of the dance team members, a tray of salads balanced carefully in her hands.

“Um,” I said. “Hi.”

That’s when I realized, to my horror, that this wasn’t just any dance team member, but Chloe, the little blonde from the airport who’d hurled herself at Will Price.

Chloe?Chloewas inhigh school?Will Price was dating ahigh school student?

So I’d been right all along about him. Wait until I told Bernadette... and then everyone in the entire world. My revenge would be complete!

“Whatareyou doing?” she asked, her British accent quite pronounced. She didn’t ask it in a particularly hostile way. She sounded more curious than anything.

“Um,” I said, feeling the place cards in my hand begin to dampen with sweat. No. No, no, no, no. “I’m—”

Fortunately, at that moment, another Snappette appeared from nowhere, also carrying a tray of salads. This was the brunette I recognized from earlier, the one Bernadette had said she’d heard call the sheriff “Daddy.” She, too, froze in her tracks, her eyes widening when she saw me.

“Oh... my... God.”

Chloe threw her a quizzical look. “What?”

“Chloe,” the brunette breathed. “That’sher.”

Chloe’s blond head whipped back around to look at me. “No. Way.”

“No, really. It is.” The brunette shifted her tray of salads onto her hip. “You’re Jo Wright, author of the Kitty Katz series, aren’t you?”

Never in my life had I been more glad to be who I was. Because I was pretty sure that this time, it was going to get me out of an awkward jam.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am. And you are?”

“I’m Katie Hartwell,” she said. She couldn’t reach out to shake my hand thanks to the salad tray, but she looked as if she wanted to. “And this is my friend Chloe Price, and we. Are. Your. Biggest. Fans. Seriously. Except maybe for our friend Sharmaine—”

“It’s true.” Chloe looked as if she were torn betweenscreaming and crying. She could barely hold on to her tray. “Kitty Katz is my favorite series of all time. I’ve read every single one of her adventures a hundred times atleast.”

I couldn’t help noticing that neither of them had employed the wordsused to. I also couldn’t help noticing something else.

“ChloePrice?” I asked. “Are you related to Will Price?”

“Oh, yes.” Chloe brightened. “He’s my brother. He’s a writer, too. Do you know him?”

So the blonde I’d been so sure was Will Price’s girlfriend really was his little sister?

There was absolutely nothing about Will having siblings in any of his bios. Not that I’d read them all. Okay, I’d read them all, searching for some hint as to what had happened to him in his past to make him such a bitter and entitled person. I’d found nothing. He’d had every privilege in the world: grown up in some sheepy area of England that looked incredibly idyllic to me (having only been to England a few times on tour, and mainly only to large cities, I had no idea, but it looked idyllic in photos); went to great universities (in England, of course); got his first book published (after a seven-figure auction), which then went on to become an international bestseller.

Why he was constantly writing super-angsty books, often set in America instead of his own country, I had no idea. But come on. The guy was basically hashtag blessed.

“I know Will a little,” I lied. “I didn’t know he had a sister, though.”

“Oh, no one knows about Chloe. Will’s very protective,” Katie assured me. “He’s super rich, and he’s afraid she might get kidnapped. Although no one around here would do something like that.”

“Katie.”Chloe looked embarrassed.

“Well, it’s true.” Katie was evidently one of those people who thought that if something was true, it was all right to blurt it out. “My dad’s the sheriff, and he wouldn’t let it. But have you checked out Will’s net worth?”

“Um, no,” I said, though of course I had, many times. His net worth was the same as my own, except that I’d written nearly four times as many books as he had (though admittedly mine were a lot shorter, since they were for kids) and I’d tucked all my money safely away in defined benefit plans I couldn’t touch until I was older than my dad was now. I hadn’t gone around throwing my royalties away willy-nilly on stupid things such asmansionsonprivate islandsandboats.

“Well, right, then,” Katie went on. “So you know he’s loaded. He’s practically paying for this entire book festival. Well, him and Mrs. Tifton.”

“Katie!” Chloe looked horrified.