Free The Case of the Ruby Slippers by Martha Freeman

right? Let me help you.”
    I answered without moving. “Hi, Paul. Thanks. But if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna stay here.” I mean, I was not only covered in dirty water, I could also feel my lip beginning to swell. No way was I letting Paul Song get a good look at me like this.
    â€œYeah? Well, that’s weird, Cammie,” he said. “I mean, it can’t be very comfortable down there.”
    â€œ
I’d
be happy for some help, young man,” said Mrs. Hedges, who was on the floor beside me.
    Paul extended his hand, but Mrs. Hedges is not what you’d call dainty, and Paul is not what you’d call huge. Trying to support her, he slipped on the wet floor, and—
ow!
—sat down hard beside us.
    Oh, my gosh!
Had America’s best boy singer just cracked his tail bone? And was it my fault?
    I scrambled to my knees. “Are you okay?”
    In person, Paul Song looks just as good as he does in pictures and on video, with big brown eyes, floppy hair, and a supercute face. Right now there were tears on that supercute face, and he couldn’t speak.
    He was too busy laughing.
    â€œUh . . . , hi, excuse me? Cammie, what are you doing down there?” said a familiar voice.
    â€œCourtney?” I looked around.
    â€œYeah, uh . . . hi. I’m here early. Oh!” She saw my face. “
Ick
, Cammie! What did you do to your lip? And—
gross
—you’re all dirty!”
    Courtney, of course, looked perfectly put together. Her lip gloss even matched her hair ribbon.
    What I wanted to say was, “Remind me again why you’re my best friend?” but what I actually said was, “I’m
fine
.” Then, “Paul, you remember Courtney? You signed an autograph for her last time you were here?”
    â€œSure. Nice to see you.” He was still getting over his laughing fit.
    â€œUh, Miss Parks? Mr. Song? If anybody cares, I’m still down here on the floor, and I’m pretty sure some of my bones are sprained,” said Mrs. Hedges.
    By now everyone, meaning Paul Song, had seen how cute I look with a fat lip, so, carefully, I stood and helped Mrs. Hedges to her feet. Then Mr. Ross came out of his office and took charge. Soon Mrs. Hedges had gone to the staff room to recover, and a couple of other housekeepers were finishing the floor.
    â€œNow, where did that little dog get to?” Mr. Ross asked. We looked around and saw Ozzabelle worn out and collapsed under a chair. By her head was something blue that looked like a rag. Had she brought me another present? I walked over, and she snatched it like she wanted to play.
    â€œHold still, puppy.” I scooped her up and took the blue thing. What I’d thought was a rag turned out to be one of those rubber gloves like dentists wear. I had seen one of those recently—but where was it again? And where did Ozzabelle find this one?
    â€œLunch is ready.” Granny must have come from the presidential elevator, which opens into a space behind a door in the cross hall.
    Without thinking, I shoved the glove in my pants pocket.
    â€œCourtney, we’ve set a place for you,” Granny went on. “And Paul, we’d be delighted if you could take a break from your rehearsing. I’m afraid it’s nothing special. We’ll be eating upstairs. Here, Cammie.” She traded me Ozzabelle for an ice pack. “For your lip. And perhaps you’d better change your clothes?”
    If you’re wondering why Granny was ready with an ice pack for my lip, it’s because word travels fast in the White House—especially when it comes to me, Tessa and Nate. There are Secret Service agents and officers everywhere, and they all have radios.
    Going upstairs, Courtney explained that she was here early because her dad had asked her to do an errand for him. When she called to ask, she talked to Granny, and Granny invited her to lunch.
    â€œWhat errand