Free Agent Angus by K. L. Denman Page A

guys on TV that read people’s faces. They can tell when someone is lying. And they use all those little clues to solve crimes.”
    â€œFor real?” Ella asks. “You’re into that?”
    â€œOh yeah.” I nod. “Totally. I practice all the time.”
    Behind the glasses, her brown eyes narrow. “Are you just saying that?”
    â€œNo. I swear.” I can’t look at her. I turn and scan the front of the school. Shouldn’t the principal be out here to lecture us by now? I need something to save me.
    And then the second miracle of the day appears. Standing beside the front steps is the guy who let off the stink bomb. I know it’s him because I saw him do it. I was on an errand for my teacher. I’m the sort of guy who gets asked to do those things—trustworthy, reliable me.
    Anyway, classes were in session, and the halls were empty. Except for that kid. I don’t know his name. I’ve seen him around, a scrawny kid with a nasty sneer. He ran by me with a plastic bag, dropped it at the end of the hall and kept going. Seconds later, the bag started spewing. I did what any thinking man would do. I yelled, “Bomb!” and ran. I only paused long enough to pull the fire alarm.
    Minutes later, here I was. Beside Ella. Claiming that I plan to be a mentalist. She’s still watching me. Maybe she’s waiting for me to say more about reading faces.
    I point out the scrawny kid. “Look. I’ll prove it to you. See that guy? See how he’s twitching?” This is true. “And now he’s whispering in his buddy’s ear?” The scrawny kid and his friend are laughing. “Now he’s looking around to see if anyone’s watching him.” I shift my gaze to Ella. My voice has a ring of authority as I say, “He’s got guilt written all over him. He let off the stink bomb.”
    Sunlight glints off Ella’s glasses as she turns from me to the kid and back again. “That’s amazing,” she whispers. “I think you could be right.”
    â€œPerps can’t resist watching the mayhem they cause.” I may actually sound like I know what I’m talking about.
    She stares at the kid. “Sneaky-looking little creep, isn’t he?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œDo you think you should say something?” She looks around and suddenly raises her arm to point. “There’s Principal Garnet.” Her gaze tracks back and forth between the principal and scrawny kid.
    Principal Garnet studies the crowd from his vantage point on the steps. His glare passes over us and keeps traveling. A moment later, he charges down the steps and takes scrawny kid by the arm. As he’s hustled away, scrawny kid sneers and flips us the finger.

Chapter Two
    A strange feeling rises up in me when scrawny kid flips us off. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt it before. It’s hot and fierce, like jalapeño juice on chapped lips. (I hate that.) But it’s mixed with something that makes my chest swell. I’m reminded of those birds on nature shows fluffing up their feathers for battle. I have a weird urge to run after the finger flipper and demand that he apologize. To Ella.
    Nobody should be rude around a sensitive girl like Ella. I glance at her to see how she’s handling the insult. She’s got her sketchbook open in the crook of one arm. And she’s drawing. Fast. I’ve never seen anyone handle a pen so skillfully. Our math teacher, Mr. Jones, has astonishing speed when he writes equations on the blackboard. But Ella makes Mr. Jones look like a slacker.
    â€œPoop,” Ella says. Her pen stops.
    I can’t guess what poop has to do with anything. But I agree with her. “Yeah.”
    â€œI really wanted to capture that expression. I’m close, but…” She sighs deeply. “I’d say it was defiance. What do you think, Angus?”
    â€œUm.” I think I don’t