I So Don't Do Mysteries by Barrie Summy Page B

ceremony is, at the
Park. I have to be there. And Amber has to drive me. Solving this mystery is turning into a humongous
headache.
    I’m so caught up in stress and worry, I don’t really hear Junie until she
taps my shoulder.
    â€œSherry, on the beach, why were they all staring at you?”
    â€œMy phone rang.” My phone rang. I can’t believe I forgot. I
plop down on the walkway, yank off my backpack. This time the zipper whips open like it’s
been greased. Whatever.
    I click on Calls Missed. “Josh Morton” pops up on the screen.
    Josh Morton called me!
    My hand slaps over my chest to prevent my thumping heart from leaping out onto the
sand.
    A quick click on the flashing envelope and I’m listening to his message.
“I got your number from Kristin. I have some news I think you’ll like. At least, I hope
so. Call me.”
    â€œJosh wants me to call him.” I swing my backpack over my shoulder.
“Catch you later.” I stand and walk away from Junie and her round-like-Frisbees
eyes.
    It’s dark now, with dim lights from the condo casting long shadows out to sea.
Crashing waves beat up the shore.
    I find a patch of dry ground not too close to stinky seaweed and sit. Inhaling a bunch
of salty air, I flip open my phone and dial Josh.
    I put the phone to my ear. With the first ring, my stomach flip-flops. With the second
ring, it flop-flips. With the third, fourth and fifth rings, it’s all over the place, doing its
gymnastic thing.
    Josh’s voice mail picks up. My stomach stops mid flip. Voice mail? Wah.
    I listen to his message, storing it in my memory right next to his phone number:
“This is Josh. Leave a message. Later, dude.”
    â€œHi, uh, Josh. Sorry I didn’t answer. I was, uh, at the beach. By the
Hotel Del. Call me.” I snap the phone shut and put it away. Okay. I just sounded dumb.
    I’m so into worrying about my lame message, then wondering what
Josh’s news is, that it takes me a minute to realize a fatty cactus wren has landed on my
shoulder. He curls his feet into my sweater.
    â€œGrandpa!” My spirits soar at the sight of him.
“Where’s Mom?”
    He looks down the beach, lifts one foot and holds it above his eyes.
    I squint into the darkness. “Was she far behind you? Is she on her
way?”
    He bobs his head.
    I feel in my backpack for the package of sunflower seeds I bought at the airport. Once
my palm is full, I stick out my arm. Grandpa hops down the length of it and onto my outstretched
finger.
    Peck. Peck. Peck.
He is seriously munching down.
    I watch the beach for any sign of movement, sniffing for coffee. Suddenly I see a
colossal cloud of sand swirling near the waves. Swirling fast. Swirling wild. And swirling right for
me.

“Grandpa,” I yell, “tell Mom to
slow down!”
    Peck. Peck. Peck.
He’s going jackhammer speed on the seeds. He
doesn’t pause, doesn’t look up, just tightens his grip on my finger. Ouch.
    The cloud’s barreling closer and closer, churning out sand from the sides.
    â€œSlow down!” I scream.
    Mom’s still racing. And now I can hear her too, like wind whooshing through a
tunnel.
    I jump up, hold Grandpa in safe to my chest and start dancing from side to side, trying
to dodge her. But she’s not traveling in a straight line. She’s, like, Queen Zigzag of the
Sand Cyclones.
    I stop dancing. This is totally useless. I can’t outmaneuver her.
    Legs apart, I turn my back, dig my toes into the sand and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hang on for your life, Grandpa.”
    I’m standing tough, knees bent and shoulders hunched. My hair and clothes
blow crazy on one side, like I’m next to the summer fan display at Home Depot.
    Then all goes quiet. All goes still.
    I open my eyes. A few grains of sand are popping around next to my feet.
There’s a coffee smell in the