I So Don't Do Spooky Page 15

  Dylan Greene, a promising eighth-grade student at Donner Middle School, died today on campus, following a bee sting. The insect flew in through an open classroom window. Dylan is survived by his mother, his father and his younger sister. The Donner Middle School Robotics Team is holding a vigil for him tomorrow evening.

  Silence while we digest this. We’ve identified the stalker. Dylan Greene, deceased rival robotics student, has been trying to creep out The Ruler to the point she quits Saguaro’s robotics team.

  “Totally explains why Claire wigged when I opened the window at the robotics meeting,” I say.

  “Maybe she’s even allergic to bees herself,” Mom says.

  “Thing is, no matter how much Dylan bugs The Ruler, she won’t quit our team,” Junie says. “Not with her competitive, persistent personality.”

  “It would escalate until he hurt her,” Mom says.

  “Yeah, he would totally have to take her out of commission,” I say.

  “Cemetery rendezvous,” we say in unison.

  I look at Junie. “We’ll go to Sun Cemetery? So we can ride our bikes?”

  “That works,” Junie says. “But I don’t understand how we get a ghost to meet us there.”

  I think I hear a sound again, but no, no one, nothing. This mystery is so messing with my nerves.

  “The tutorial said you lure the ghost with objects that were a part of his life.” Papers on the desk flutter where Mom’s settling in.

  “Say what?” I can’t help it; my eyes are rolling all on their own. “I take objects from his life and haul them out to the cemetery?”

  “It’s not just the objects,” Mom says. “You have to understand what makes Dylan tick. That’s all part and parcel of the connection process among the box and the Keeper of the Box and the ghost.”

  “Who makes up this stuff?” I thump the desk. “No way I can learn”—I draw quotation marks in the air with my fingers—“‘what makes him tick.’”

  “Could you talk to Claire about her brother?” Junie asks.

  “Yes, because that crazy, wacked-out robotics nutcase who had her friends ditch me in the desert is dying to spend time with me. No doubt she lies awake at night obsessing, ‘I just have to become friends with Sherry, who called herself Mary and lied her way through our robotics meeting. Maybe I can invite her out for a burger and open up to her about my dead brother. Oh yeah, and I’d like to give Sherry a bunch of my brother’s belongings.’” I bury my head in my hands. “This is so not happening for us, people.”

  “If Claire saw Dylan, can she see other ghosts too?” Junie asks.

  “Haven’t got a clue,” I mumble into my palms.

  “I see where Junie’s going and it’s a great idea,” Mom says. “Take her an amethyst necklace. It’s a way to soften her up. Plus, she may really need the protection.”

  I look up and repeat what Mom said to keep Junie in the loop.

  “What’s our timeline?” Junie asks.

  Ack. Eek. Ike. Trust Junie to zoom straight to the terrifying stuff. “This is our last day,” I say. “We’ll have to talk Dylan into the silver box at midnight tonight. Otherwise, Mrs. Howard takes over, and it’s goodbye to any Real Time.”

  Less than twelve hours. It lies like a lump of lead in the middle of the room. Twenty-four hours flies by fast, unless you’re studying for a science test. In twelve hours, I’ll know if I have Real Time. Or if I don’t.

  Mom clears her throat. “That settles it, then. Sherry, you go visit Claire this afternoon. Tonight, it’s a showdown with a ghost at Sun Cemetery.”

  Junie munches on a muffin. “I’ll meet you at the curb with my bike at eleven o’clock.”

  I hear another faint scurrying sound. I swear we probably have mice with all the healthy, grainy food The Ruler buys.

  “I think we can safely leave The Ruler without protection, because Dylan will be at the cemetery,” Mom says.

  “Can you and Grandpa get there early and hide?” I ask her.

  “Yes, although we have to be far enough away that we don’t scare Dylan off,” Mom says. “He’ll be watching for the silver box and probably assumes I’m a Keeper. If he senses our presence, he’ll vanish. So to speak.”

  I translate for Junie, an avocado-sized knot of dread lodged in my stomach. Just how far away is far enough away? Too far to help if Dylan goes berserko, out of control?

  “We call your mom with the coffee beans if we get in trouble?” Junie says in a shaky voice. She’s probably got an avocado in her stomach too.

  “That’s the idea,” Mom says. “I’m flying over to your school now to relieve Grandpa of his bodyguarding duties. Then he’ll handle reconnaissance at Sun Cemetery.”

  I repeat what she said for Junie.

  After my mom takes off, Junie and I dawdle in the office, deciding on our cemetery outfits: jeans, sweatshirts, athletic shoes. We’re going for speed and comfort. Then, we actually study. I’ve got Polly’s psychic advice echoing in my head: You got a science test coming up? You better study. Junie never takes chances with her grades.

  Later, when we’re sitting on the curb out front, waiting for Junie’s mom to pick her up, I say, “You know what? I’ve finally got my Real Time plan. Our living room when no one else is home. I’m gonna set it up like we’re a mom and daughter getting together, even though I know she can’t eat or anything. So I’ll play Mom’s CDs for music, get vanilla wafer cookies, which we both used to snack on, and wear my Phoenix Police Department T-shirt.”

  Now, we just have to pull off tonight. Successfully.

  chapter

  thirty-four

  I lean my bike against the stucco wall and push the doorbell at Claire’s house. I pat my jeans pocket, where I’ve stashed the amethyst necklace, and shrug to straighten my backpack.

  “Hello.” An older version of Claire, pudgier and with brown hair all the same length, answers the door. She’s wearing a Curious George apron. “Can I help you?”

  “I know Claire from school. Is she around?”

  “You’re here to see Claire?” Her penciled-on eyebrows jump up in shock.

  I’m guessing Claire doesn’t get a ton of unexpected visitors.

  “Come in. Come in.” She steps back to let me pass. “I’m Sandra, her mother. And you are …?”

  I step into the delightful, delicious smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. “My name’s Sherry, but I’d kind of like to surprise her, if that’s okay.”

  Sandra nods knowingly. Claire is obviously difficult at home too. “Would you like some cookies and milk?”

  Have I fallen into a black-and-white TV? Is this Leave It to Somebody or Other? “Sure.” I follow her into a small family room with worn rose carpet and smushed-down cushions on a faded blue couch.

  Before I even have a chance to get all comfy and cozy, Claire clomps in from the hallway.

  She halts mid-clomp, the shoulder-length side of her hair swinging, and glares. “What are you doing here?”

  Sandra tugs gently on Claire’s arm. “I need you in the kitchen for a second.”

  The two of them disappear through an entryway.

  I take this opportunity to scan the room for familyish junk I can use to lure Dylan to the cemetery tonight. Right behind the couch, there’s a tall, skinny table loaded down with pictures. Looks like they took a family cruise. There’s a picture of Sandra, a man who must be the dad, Dylan and Claire standing in a line in front of a cruise ship. They’re all looking reasonably happy. Works for me. I unzip my backpack and drop it in.

  From the kitchen, I can hear Sandra’s low tones, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.

  “I can’t stand her,” Claire says. She doesn’t lower her voice even one iota.

  Can’t stand me? Ouchie mama. Claire isn’t overly worried about hurting my feelings. Luckily, I’m a thick-skinned detective type.

  Four steps and I’ve zipped across the little room and am peering into a curio cabinet. Mr. Greene’s bowling trophy. A cuti
e-pie brass monkey that must be from a collection of Sandra’s. Someone’s bronzed baby shoe. A couple of soccer trophies. I snatch up the shoe and the trophies. Clinkety, clink, clink. Into the backpack they go.

  For good measure, I toss in a few Donner Dynamos team buttons and a Popsicle-stick craft.

  “You will sit down with her and have some cookies and milk. To make a friend, you have to be a friend.” Sandra has given up on the whispering and is talking loud enough that I can hear her.

  “Give me a break,” Claire says. “Do you wanna know what she did to me?”

  “I do not,” Sandra says. “If you want me to take you to Electronics City later today, you’ll pick up this tray and march back in there and be polite. For ten minutes. Like a normal girl who has girlfriends over after school.”

  I’m barely seated on the couch, my legs crossed, with my lumpy, bumpy backpack by my feet when Claire enters. She’s carrying a metal tray loaded down with all sorts of treats, not just cookies.

  She clatters the tray on the coffee table, then sinks into a chair kitty-corner to me.

  I grab a couple of cookies, still warm from the oven. It’s been forever since I’ve had home-baked cookies with refined sugar and real chocolate chips. The Ruler’s baking tends toward muffins and bread. My mom rarely baked. I’ve never had a Sandra.

  “Seriously. I want to know what you’re doing here,” Claire hisses.

  I poke up a finger. “One sec.” I close my eyes and bite. And chew. And sigh. If it weren’t for the whole ghost-stalker mystery thing, I’d think I was in after-school-snack heaven. I open my eyes. Time to shower Claire with gifts in the hopes she’ll pass on info about Dylan.

  “I brought the bling.” From the front pouch of my backpack, I pull out a plastic bag stuffed with glass gemstones and sequins. “Most of the stones and sequins are turquoise plus sea green. But there are a few black and white of each.”

  “Why?” Claire crosses her arms. “It’s not like you’re on our team.”

  “Because I said I would. And bling is sort of my specialty. And, honestly, I don’t care who wins. And I feel really bad about how things turned out.”

  Arms still crossed, Claire glares at me.

  I set the bag on the table next to the tray. “I’m leaving it here. Use it or not, it’s up to you.” I point to a couple of the larger turquoise + sea green pieces. “These are perfect for the front of your robot. Very eye-catching.”

  There’s silence while Claire stares at the transparent bag. She doesn’t make a move to open it or anything.

  “How’s Austin?”

  “Fine.” Claire tears her gaze away from the bling and looks at me. “Give him a voltage meter and some driving time, and he’s good as new.”

  That makes me feel better. I pick up a brownie with white frosting for eyes and a turned-down smile. “What’s this?”

  “A frownie. My mother’s specialty.”

  Cupping my palm under my chin to catch crumbs, I bite in. It’s like a party for my taste buds. “Is there chocolate pudding in here?”

  Claire nods. She’s not friendly, but she’s thawing.

  I polish off the frownie. Then, from my pocket, I gently tug out the amethyst necklace. “It’s for you.”

  She doesn’t reach for it. “Why?”

  I hold the necklace up. On the end of the silver chain, the amethyst spins in the air. “Without going into a bunch of mumbo jumbo, you need to wear this.”

  She still doesn’t reach for it.

  “Claire, I know you saw Dylan’s outline last night. I saw it too.”

  She shakes her head.

  “We’ve got some sort of strange talent to do with the spirit world,” I say softly. “I didn’t ask for it. You didn’t ask for it. But we have to keep ourselves safe. And this necklace will do that.”

  “Did you know I’m so advanced in math, I go up to the high school for classes?” she says. “My world is scientific and logical. I don’t do ghosts.”

  “Claire, I hear what you’re saying. I’m not into science or math or whatever, but ghosts don’t fit easily into my life either.” I swing the necklace slowly. “For whatever reason, though, we’re stuck with this strange spiritual gift.”

  She takes the necklace from me. “You won’t believe the weird rituals Dylan always did before competitions.”

  “Like what?” I grab another frownie. Unless Sandra gives me the recipe and I learn to bake, I won’t be eating too many more of these delish numbers after today.

  “Eat a peanut butter and honey sandwich. He had that bee-allergy thing going, but, boy, he liked honey.” Claire unclasps the necklace and then fastens it around her neck. “And he always wore the same socks. Wouldn’t let Mom wash them. He got the idea from the basketball team.”

  That’s just gross, but it explains his smell. Not that Josh doesn’t have a ritual regarding a certain water polo cap.

  Claire sighs, jutting out her perfectly plump lower lip. “You know why I was at school late last night?”

  “Why?”

  “I knew something was up with our bot. There is no way we should’ve killed Saguaro so bad at the practice competition. We’re not that skilled at flipping rings off pegs, but we got all yours. We’re not that fast at maneuvering around the field, but we beat you by a mile.” With the palm of her hand, Claire presses the stone to her chest. “Now I get it. It was Dylan. He doesn’t trust me to lead the Donner Dynamos to the championships.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say. “It might not be anything against you, but more that he can’t let go.”

  She cups the amethyst. “Decent-sized stone. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I grab a couple more cookies for the ride home. Then I toss the backpack over my shoulder. It clunks heavily against my right hip.

  We walk to the front door. “You’re doing an awesome job with the robotics club. Everyone knows it, Claire. Even people from other schools.”

  She ducks her head, but not before I catch a glimpse of a small smile.

  Outside, I climb onto my bike.

  The countdown is on.

  Nine hours till midnight.

  chapter

  thirty-five

  I manage to stumble through the rest of the afternoon and actually read over the science study notes Junie and I wrote. Just in case Polly knows what she’s talking about.

  After dinner, I play video games with Sam, who bugs me for details about the ghost hunting.

  “Überboring,” I lie.

  Josh calls when he gets home from practice. “So, Sherry, last night was way weird.”

  And tonight will be way weirder. But I’m not up for a supernatural discussion, which will lead to a massive panic attack on my part. So not good for detecting. “Yup, way weird,” I say without adding any comments.

  “Yeah, anyway, Nick is helping me with math on Friday,” Josh says. “Then he and Junie want to do something with you and me that evening. My mom said we can chill at our house.”

  Listen to my boy, planning a fun double date. Except for the Nick part. Which I am getting over for Junie’s sake.

  After I flip my phone closed, there’s a couple more minutes where I’m still floating with good boyfriend feelings. Slowly, though, they leak out, like when Coke goes flat. And I’m left nervous and jittery and worried about Sun Cemetery.

  The Ruler goes to bed at her regular crazy third-grader hour. Sam hits the sack too. He says he’s catching a cold. I didn’t even notice him sneezing or coughing. I hope he’s not turning into a hypochondriac.

  I head upstairs. I’m killing time till Junie shows. And I may as well lounge with my fish.

  I open my bedroom door. There’s a faint whiff of honey + dirty socks. Dylan was in my room!

  Ack! Eek! Ike!

  And then I spot her. Poor little Cindy, flopping on the floor, her silvery tail twisting and turning, her cute little fishy mouth opening and closing.

  My heart hammering, I race to her, scoop her up
in both hands and plop her into the tank.

  Prince zips right to her, nudging her with his handsome head. She gives a little flip. The two of them smile up at me and swim off.

  The aquarium lid is lying by my bed. I grab it up and snap it back on. I never ever remove the lid, because bala sharks love to leap out of water.

  Dylan tried to murder Prince and Cindy!

  I am so talking him into the silver box. He’s done messing with The Ruler. He’s done messing with my fish. He’s done messing with my life.

  It’s about eleven, and Junie and I are kneeling on the sidewalk in front of my house. We’re under the streetlight. It’s gloomy and dim, but we’re trying to save our flashlight batteries.

  Our voices low, we’re dividing the stuff I took from Claire’s living room. The sidewalk looks diseased, with all these odd-shaped shadowy lumps.

  “Any trouble sneaking out?” I ask.

  “Not really. It helps that my parents go to bed after the ten o’clock news and always sleep with the ceiling fan on.” Junie straightens her shoulders, enjoying her detective status. “Plus, I used the side door since their bedroom’s at the back of the house.”

  “You’re a natural.” I give a nervous giggle. “Maybe we should open a private-eye business when we grow up.”

  “Yeah, right.” She leans forward and picks up a couple of the lumps. She waves them at me. “Uh, Sherry?”

  I squint into the darkness. The Popsicle-stick craft and the bronzed baby shoe. “I grabbed a little of everything.”

  “And you brought us snacks?”

  I squint some more. She’s holding the peanut butter and honey sandwiches I made.

  “They’re not for eating.” I tell her about Dylan’s pre-competition rituals with the sandwiches and the socks.

  Junie pats the ground, feeling around. “I’ll take the coffee beans.” She pauses. “Because he’ll, uh, I’ll probably be, uh, more free to call your mom.” She pauses again. “If we even have to.”

  My insides feel like I swallowed the entire Hoover Dam with water whooshing over it. “Junie, I’m scared. I don’t think I can pull this off.”