I So Don't Do Spooky Read online

  I beeline to the sale rack, located right inside the front door. It’s tops week. I paw through the hangers. And, yay, there’s a decent selection in extra-small. I choose a turquoise + sea green baby-doll that goes perfectly with my skin tone, my dark eyes, my dark hair, the walls of my bedroom and the gravel in my aquarium. I love a well-coordinated life. And what luck that I haven’t blown all my allowance yet this month and can actually buy the top.

  I flip over the tag. Two for one. Oh, happy days! I pick out a lilac blouse. After paying, I bolt next door to fulfill my bodyguard duties.

  It’s only when I’m inside the Nut ’n’ Nut that I remember how my stomach goes all churny at this store’s smell. Vitamins and onions and fish and skin cream should not be such close neighbors.

  I catch up to The Ruler and Sam in the frozen food section. The Ruler admires my purchases, which convinces me that I am slowly having a positive influence on her lack of fashion sense. Sam ignores me, frenziedly pressing buttons on his game. No matter. I am his sister and will be there for him when he needs my expert clothing advice.

  “Can we get some soysicles?” Sam asks.

  “Of course.” The Ruler beams at him. She’s determined to change the eating habits of the world, one by one.

  She divides up the shopping list and sends me off for tomatoes, scallions and fresh rosemary.

  Pushing a mini kid’s cart with a green Customer-in-Training flag, I detour down the natural-candy aisle. I’m contemplating fake-o licorice, an item so not on my list, but quite tasty.

  Suddenly, the cinnamony + sugary smell of a Cinna bon floats past me. I stand perfectly still.

  It’s Mrs. Howard.

  The Cinnabon smell gets stronger and stronger, until the air is practically sticky.

  I wait for her to say, “Hi, Sherry. How’s the mystery going?” Or, “Cute outfit, love how you put your clothes together.” Or, “The Academy really thinks you’re marvelous and brilliant.”

  But no, silence.

  And it hits me that she doesn’t even know I know she’s there. She doesn’t realize I can smell her. I can’t see her blurry outline; she must have control over that. Mrs. Howard’s spying on me.

  Okeydokey, Mrs. Thinks-She’s-So-Tricky-Invisible-Guidance-Counselor-Ghost Howard. I can get into this game. I hum a bland nothing tune. “Dum dee dee dum. Better hurry to the produce aisle for some deliciously fresh and healthy tomatoes and scallions and rosemary.

  “Dum dee dee dum. I can’t wait till the lentil soup is merrily bubbling away on our stove at home, filling our cozy kitchen with warmth and goodness.

  “Dum dee dee dum. And I so hope I get to knead the bread. Because I’m a very helpful girl.”

  I’m all the while skipping along, zigzagging the cart so the Customer-in-Training flag flaps jauntily away.

  At the vegetables, I tear off a plastic bag and drop in a couple of plump tomatoes. I’m tossing scallions and rosemary up into the air when, poof, the Cinnabon smell is gone. I smile. I gold-starred that Academy of Spirits test.

  It’s a manic roll over to the bulk bins where The Ruler and Sam are scoring lentils.

  Sam’s scooping up the beans. The Ruler’s picking out the bad ones, prodding them back into the bin with these bamboo tweezer thingies. They’re joking around, laughing. The Ruler’s beige blouse has come untucked and she’s letting it hang there. I’m kind of not surprised they’re having fun; Sam can make anything into a game.

  So I bodyguard the rest of Sunday morning, which drifts into the afternoon. By which time, I seriously need a nap. The woman never slows down. We clean. We cook. We bake. We garden. We shop at a specialty store for canning supplies.

  It’s all worth it because I’m sure my mother is taking advantage of her nonbodyguarding time and practicing up a storm for the Ghostlympics.

  Finally, finally, with heavy eyelids, I head to my room for some downtime. One step in and I’m getting a happy feeling. Thanks to Grandma’s clove mixture, my room smells fun and holidayish, like the Christmas store at the mall. I wander over to my aquarium ’cause I want a palsy-walsy chat with my adorable bala sharks before taking a nap.

  Yikes. There’s fish food floating in the water. Which there should not be because I fed them yesterday. And they so don’t need food again today. They’ll get sick.

  Shoulders back and a glare on my face, I storm into Sam’s room. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave my fish alone? Don’t feed them. You’ll kill them and I’ll never forgive you.”

  He’s in a beanbag chair, thumbs flapping furiously over his controller. He doesn’t even look up. “I didn’t feed your stupid fish.”

  “I can tell you’ve been in my room. You left behind your gross dirty-sock smell. So don’t even bother lying.” I slam his door on the way out. Back in my room, I scoop out as much of the flakes as I can with a little aquarium net.

  I flop down on my bed. I shut my eyes. I haven’t craved a nap this bad since last weekend.

  Ding-dong.

  I drag my weary self to the front door.

  It’s Junie.

  She’s surprise-visiting to help me with the Donner Dynamos’ website stuff. Ixnay on the nap.

  In the kitchen, we nuke ham-and-cheese Hot Pockets. I’m bringing Junie up to speed on the mystery since she wasn’t at the meeting with Mom and Grandpa. I tell her about the Ghostlympics.

  “Where would you spend five minutes of Real Time with your mom?” Junie asks.

  “I can’t decide.” I set down my Hot Pocket. “Not anywhere public, not even Tio Roberto’s, because I don’t want it to be noisy. I haven’t seen her for over a year and a half, and I want to hear every word she says.” I actually tear up.

  “Sherry, I really hope she wins Real Time,” Junie says.

  Then we both sit in sadness and silence for a minute.

  I pick up my Hot Pocket and nibble. “We better eat lunch near Kyle and his friends tomorrow. Maybe we’ll overhear something.”

  “Oh great.” Junie sighs. “Lunch by the cool eighth graders. Who don’t want us around.”

  We’re walking down the hall to the office, totally side by side, shoulders touching. Junie says, “What about the Donner robotics team? Are any of those students crazy enough to slash The Ruler’s tires?”

  “Oh yeah,” I say. “They’re way, way out there. And we have no idea what their secret plans are. Maybe plan A was to slash the front tires, and plan B was to slash the rear tires.”

  Then I pause, trying to make sure I say the next thing right. Because Junie can be overly sensitive. “Are most students in robotics clubs wacked-out weirdos?”

  Junie hmpfs and speeds up so she’s a step ahead and showing me her back. “Sherry, don’t be such a moron.”

  In the office, I switch on the computer. “Anyway, someone from the Donner Dynamos could definitely be doubling as a tire slasher, like Claire. Or maybe it was Kyle the Flunking Basketball Player. Or maybe Kyle’s dad. Or maybe it’s someone we don’t even know about.”

  I log on to my e-mail. “I sent a short, friendly questionnaire to the Donner team members. Most of them have e-mailed me back with their answers. And a photo. If you could just paste everything onto the Web pages.”

  “Uh, why?” Junie asks, her face puzzled. “Why are you trying to help Donner win?”

  chapter

  fifteen

  “I’m not trying to help Donner win, Junie. But we haven’t ruled them out as suspects yet,” I explain slowly, like I’m talking to a preschooler. “I want to go to more of their meetings to keep track of them. Which means I’ve gotta walk the walk and talk the talk, like I’m truly a Donner Dynamo.”

  Junie rolls her eyes.

  I open an e-mail from Sarah.

  Junie scans it. “Uh, Sherry, this isn’t the kind of stuff you normally put on a robotics club website. Normally, on the members page, it’s information about where they plan to go to high school and college, how long they’ve been involved with robotics, their po
sition on the team.” She looks back at the e-mail. “Not, uh, personal stuff, like favorite childhood toy, favorite vacation, most embarrassing moment.”

  “Well, they put me in charge of the questionnaire, and that’s the way I’m doing it.”

  Junie harrumphs like an old lady, but starts copying and pasting and uploading anyway. She knows that once I make my mind up, there’s pretty much no changing it. Anyway, it’s not her team.

  I push my chair back to go get a Mountain Dew.

  Junie lifts her hands off the keyboard. “Don’t you think I should be showing you how to do this?”

  “Uh, no. I’m not actually on the Donner robotics team,” I explain überpatiently.

  “Uh, Sherry, I’m not either.”

  “Fine.” I scoot back up to the computer. “Show me.”

  When she’s done with Mohawk Guy’s page, I say, “Let me try the next one. You get the sodas.”

  “Works for me.” Junie heads for the kitchen.

  I click on Austin’s e-mail. And start reading. And stop.

  Junie comes back and sits down next to me and pops open both our cans. “What’s going on? You hit a snag?”

  “Not a snag. It’s this e-mail from Austin, one of the Donner guys.”

  She squints at the screen. “‘Mary we’re so thrilled to have you as our most recent Donner Dynamo team member. Please call me if there’s anything I can help you with.’”

  Junie and I stare at each other, then say at the exact same sec, “Plan A and plan B!”

  I pull my cell out of my pocket and punch in Austin’s number.

  “Hi, Austin. It’s, uh, Mary. I just opened your e-mail.”

  “Hi, Mary. Did you love your first Donner Dynamos meeting? Isn’t robotics amazing? Thanks for joining the Dynamos. How’re the Web pages going? Do you need any help?”

  “Nope. They’re fine. Really fine.”

  “You’re a great addition to our team. I have a good feeling about you.”

  Guilt! Since I’m only doing a good job so the Donner Dynamos will accept me and let me snoop at their meetings. “Uh, thanks.”

  Junie pokes me in the side. “Ask him about the plans.”

  “Hey, Austin, I’m feeling kind of left out and in the dark about plan A,” I say, setting the phone on the desk so Junie can hear too.

  And he starts babbling like a little kid after too much birthday cake. “Plan A is we’re going to seriously spy on Saguaro’s bot. We’ll start at the practice competition at Emerson Middle School on Monday evening. With our phone cameras and video cameras and notebooks. And we’ll post someone at Emerson every afternoon and weekend when the practice fields are open for just regular old practice time. We’ll figure out their bot’s weaknesses. And we’ll watch to see their drivers’ strategies. Like are they going for points by racing around the field, or are they knocking the other team’s ball out, or are they concentrating on moving the ball around? Once we know their strategies, we’ll tweak ours to beat them.” He’s talking very speedy. The flash drive must be pretty much break-dancing around his neck.

  Junie mouths, “So?”

  I lean over and speak into the phone. “Austin, doesn’t everyone kind of do that?”

  “Not to the same degree. Also, and here’s the clincher, we’ll give the info to every team that goes up against Saguaro. So everyone has an edge on them.”

  Junie’s eyebrows leap way up by her hairline.

  “Very brainy,” I say. “So, tell me about plan B.”

  “You know what, Mary?” Austin pauses. “That’s more Claire’s department.”

  chapter

  sixteen

  The Ruler’s at the stove, sterilizing the canning lids by dropping them into a pot of boiling water. “How’s the homework going with Junie?”

  “Good.” I grab a tube of Pringles and a bag of sour Gummi Worms.

  She actually whole-body-winces at my snack choice, but doesn’t say anything. To her credit, she puts those snacks on her shopping list. ’cause she knows they make me happy.

  The Ruler turns back to the pot and tongs out the lids, one by one, and lays them to dry on a paper towel.

  The open dishwasher shows off its army of glass mason jars, all clean and dry, standing at attention in the top rack. And on the counter, there are about three thousand pounds of cucumbers and four thousand piles of tomatoes.

  I’m super thrilled to not be involved with the canning torture. I’m super, super thrilled to know The Ruler will be busy and safe in our kitchen all night, which means I’ll get a bodyguarding break. I’m super, super, super thrilled to be meeting Josh at Jazzed-Up Juice tonight. Josh Morton. Just thinking his name turns my insides to an oatmealy mush.

  “I’m about ready for your brother.” The Ruler sets a pile of labels and a marker next to the lids.

  “Looks like you guys’ll be canning till, like, Thanksgiving.”

  “We probably could.” The Ruler smiles. “But I figure Sam will only last an hour, two tops. After that, we might go to the mall for a movie.”

  To the mall? As in, outside in the dangerous stalker-filled world? In order for me to go to Jazzed-Up Juice with Josh, I need The Ruler to totally stay put, here in our safe and sound suburban house. “For an excellent canning job, you should do the whole entire thing. Every tomato. Every cucumber.”

  The Ruler’s back is to me while she’s working at the sink, running water over cucumbers. “We’re not canning the cukes tonight. Just soaking them in pickle brine.”

  “Sam has amazing staying power. He could easily go ten, twelve hours without a break. Definitely do all the tomatoes, okay?”

  She picks up a brush and starts scrubbing the cucumbers. “Are you planning to help?”

  “Uh, no. Remember I’m going out with Josh?”

  “Well then, Sam and I will stop after a couple of hours. We might go out. We might not.”

  I full-throttle it to the office.

  When I get there, Junie’s tap-tapping on the keyboard, still uploading Donner Web stuff.

  I pop the lid on the Pringles and pass her the container.

  Junie pulls out a couple of chips and munches away.

  “Interested in going to the movies tonight?” I say.

  “Maybe. Which one?” She plunks the container on the desk.

  I take a chip. “Something G-rated.”

  “G-rated?”

  “With Sam and The Ruler.” I hold out the sour Gummi Worms to her.

  “No thanks and no thanks.”

  “Puhleeze, Junie,” I whine. “Turns out they’re only canning for a couple of hours. And then they might go to the movies. Where she’ll need to be body-guarded. But I’ll be out with Josh.”

  “See if you can get together with Josh now,” Junie says calmly.

  “And you’ll keep working on the website?”

  “Just for a while.” Junie’s cell beeps with a text. She flips open the phone, reads the message and smiles. “Actually, I think I’m done working on the Donner site.”

  I grab her phone. “Nerdy Nick? You’re getting texts from Nerdy Nick?”

  Her face and neck are the color of red Skittles.

  I read the message aloud. “‘I’m free. How bout u?’”

  And while I’m in my shocked shock that Junie’s texting with Nerdy Nick about chilling together, she very easily stretches out an arm like Cat Woman and plucks her phone from my hand.

  I shake my head to clear out the craziness lurking there. “It’s for robotics, right? You do not even want to know what I was thinking. That you and Nerdy Nick …”

  She doesn’t dignify my craziness with an answer, just lets her thumbs tap-dance over her phone’s keypad. Then she stands and seizes her purse.

  “But my Jazzed-Up Juice date with Josh …”

  Junie grabs her Mountain Dew and flashes me a quick smile. “See ya.”

  I take a deep breath and speed-dial the love of my life.

  “Hey, Sherry,” Josh says. “What’
s up?”

  “Messing around on the computer. What’re you doing?”

  “Still working on English with Candy.”

  “Can you be done? Because I’m free now.”

  “Let me ask.” His voice fades, but I can still hear him. “It’s Sherry. She wants to meet now.” There’s a short pause while he listens. “Oh, okay.” He clears his throat. “Uh, Sherry, I guess not.”

  “Oh,” I say from the depths of my flip-flops. “The Ruler and Sam might go to a movie later.”

  “And we can’t be alone in your house.”

  And I have to protect The Ruler from a crazy stalker. “But they might not go. They haven’t decided yet.”

  “Hey,” Josh says, “I have a great idea.” And he tells me.

  I get off the phone and finish up the Donner member pages. And the Pringles. And my Mountain Dew. Then I change into jean capris and my new, lilac blouse from the Rack. I restraighten my hair and redo my eye makeup. I’m just applying the eleventh and final coat of gloss on my visibly plumper lips, when the doorbell rings.

  My skin tingles. I know it’s Josh. Because we are so on the same page.

  From the top of the stairs, I peer over the banister as Sam dashes to the door and swings it wide open. “Josh! Dude! Are those for us?”

  Yuppers. That very fine boyfriend of mine has arrived, swinging a cardboard drink carrier with four drinks from Jazzed-Up Juices. And poking out of his pocket is a rented video game.

  Our plan: to make sure The Ruler and Sam stay home.

  “Hey, Sam.” Josh sets down the carrier and waves the video game in the air. “You up for this?”

  Sam goes bug-eyed. He loves to chill with Josh. And he loves Super Go-Kart. The Ruler couldn’t drag him from the house tonight.

  The three of us hang in the living room, playing. Eventually, The Ruler calls Sam into the kitchen to finish up with the canning.

  Josh scoots next to me, right next to me. Our legs touch from the hip down. My nerve endings throw off flames. When he drapes an arm over my shoulder, I pretty much melt into him. Because we’ve been together for two whole wonderful months, I can read his moves.