Boardwalk Bust Read Free Page B

“How about some vanilla Trefoils?”
    â€œUm, no,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re out of those. Try these Thin Mints instead.”
    Again, she thrust the box of cookies at me.
    â€œNo, really,” I said, pushing them away. “I don’t even like chocolate and mint together. It’s … not my thing.”
    â€œFrank?” I heard Aunt Trudy calling. “Are you coming back in here? These sheets aren’t going to fold themselves.”
    â€œComing, Aunt Trudy!”
    I turned back to the Girl Scout. “Look, I’ve gotta go,” I said. “Sorry. Maybe next time.”
    â€œYou dummy,” she said, freezing me in mid-turn.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œJust take them, okay?”
    â€œI don’t underst—”
    Before I could finish, she shoved the dreaded box of Thin Mints into my hand.
    â€œ
They’re not cookies, doofus
,” she whispered, widening her eyes and staring at me.
    â€œNot … cookies?”
    â€œNuh-uh.”
    â€œOoooh. Okay, then,” I said, getting it at last. “Sorry. I’m a little dense sometimes.”
    Especially around girls.
    â€œBye!” she said, giving me a wave and another big metal smile. “Good luck.”
    I opened the box, just to take a peek. Sure enough, there were no cookies inside. Instead there was a video game CD, with a label that read: BOARDWALK BUST .
    Good luck?
    Hmm. Maybe Joe and I were going to need it.
    Turns out our cute little friend was no Girl Scout—she was from ATAC. And she had just brought us our next case.

3. Shore Thing
    I was in the living room, trying to do, by myself, what is impossible to do without someone else helping you: fold a queen-size fitted bedsheet.
    And where was Frank? At the front door, talking to some girl.
    I could hear them from the living room—when Playback wasn’t screeching, that is. That parrot was busy using his feathers to mess up the sheets we’d already done. His idea of fun.
    It’s a strange thing about Frank and girls. They make him go all weird. He starts acting like a complete geek, which is not normally him. Well, maybe it is, just a little—but not as much as when girls are around.
    Funny thing is, it seems to make the girls like Frank more than ever.
    It gets me
crazy
sometimes. Frank can’t dance, has no smooth moves, no dimple in his chin, no big muscles. All of which I’ve got in spades, by the way. But that doesn’t seem to matter at all. Girls like Frank’s bumbling shy act better.
    I just don’t get it.
    Finally, Frank came back into the living room, and we started folding sheets again.
    â€œWhat was that all about, dear?” Mom asked him.
    â€œGirl Scouts,” Frank said, looking at the floor. “Selling cookies.”
    â€œWell, I hope you didn’t buy any,” Aunt Trudy said. “Why, they were here just last month. I think it’s nervy. How many cookies do they expect one household to buy?”
    â€œAaarrck!” Playback started in. “Get lost! Scram! Fuggedaboudit!”
    â€œI didn’t buy any,” Frank said.
    Then he noticed we were all staring at the box of Thin Mints sticking out of the back pocket of his cargo pants.
    â€œOh … these were a … uh … a free gift!”
    â€œ
Free gift?
” Aunt Trudy said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, now, that’s different!” She smiled. “Frank,why don’t you put them out on a platter and let’s all have some?”
    â€œCookie! Cookie! Playback wanna cookie!” the parrot screeched, flapping his wings.
    The panic in Frank’s eyes was plainly visible, but he was looking at me. His back was to Trudy and Mom—and it was a good thing, too.
    Obviously, he needed my help. I didn’t know why, but I knew enough not to ask.
    â€œHey, Frank,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Don’t you and I have to finish that farm project for