I So Don't Do Spooky (19 page)

T
he next morning, Wednesday, Junie and I sleep way late. By the time we make it down to the kitchen, The Ruler and Sam have left. There's a note on the counter, next to a plate of lumpy, jaundiced-looking muffins.

I'm at school. Sam is playing next door with Luke. Baked orange juice-cranberry muffins this a.m. Paula xo

“I'm sure Grandpa tailed her to Saguaro.” I scrounge in the cupboard for a couple of plates. “The stalker's really getting powerful. I mean, when he was bugging The Ruler in the backyard and I swung the amethyst, he vamoosed. But at Donner, your necklace only weakened him; he still followed us.”

“Scary.” Junie picks up a muffin and peels the cupcake liner off. She holds it up close, peering at it.

“Surprisingly good,” I say. “Sam and I love them.”

Junie sniffs the top of the muffin. “I'll try a bite.”

I fill the kettle with water for hot chocolate and instant coffee.

Junie and I spend the night at each other's houses so often that we've perfected our breakfast routine. We don't talk too much, just sort of chill in auto mode at first. She dumps the powder in our mugs. I pour in the boiling water. She adds an ice cube to her hot chocolate.

I set the cup of instant coffee out on the porch to call Mom, then join Junie at the counter.

So there we are, in sweats and T-shirts, perched on bar stools. I plop a few mini-marshmallows in my mug and push the bag over to her. “That was pretty frightening last night.”

Junie sticks a spoon in her mug and stirs. “Very frightening. I don't get what happened at the end. Why did he suddenly stop? You never even got the car door open to grab your necklace.”

“I think he recognized Claire.”

Junie freezes, mid-stir, and waits for me to continue.

“He was this hazy outline above us. When Claire approached, he stared right at her.” I slurp some hot chocolate. “Claire saw him too, but she won't admit it.”

Junie nibbles the muffin, then sets it down. Her
tongue tip pokes out between her teeth, a sign she's thinking hard. “Have you ever seen a ghost before?”

“No. Only Mrs. Howard, when she lets me. I don't think the ghost-stalker realized I could see him. He was totally focused on Claire. And I think it just sort of happened.”

“So who's Dylan?” Junie sips her hot chocolate.

“Beats me,” I say. “When you loaded Claire's page on the Donner website, did you read it?”

“No.” Junie dumps a mountain of marshmallows in her mug. “I was just throwing material up as fast as I could.”

“Let's start there,” I say. “Maybe she mentions him.”

There's a gentle rapping at the back door and a definite smell of coffee coming from that direction. I go to the porch door to tell my mom the coast is clear and that she, Junie and I need to kick it in the office so we can hit the Internet.

While the computer's booting up, Junie and I fill my mom in on plan B and ghost hunting at Buren and Donner.

I click onto Donner's website and open “Getting to Know Claire.”

I think I hear a sound in the hall, but when I turn around, there's nobody. This stalker mystery really has me spooked.

“Listen to this!” Junie reads aloud, “‘My family is
me, my mom and my dad. I'm hard-core into robotics. My brother, Dylan, was too. Here's our family photo.'”

I glance at the picture. “It's him. Even the same all sticky-outy Einstein-ish hair.”

Then, my fingers are flying over the keys, Googling Dylan Greene. We're crowded around the screen, waiting for the page to load. I choose the first entry. It's from our school district site.

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.

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 cutie-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.