Fish Finelli Book 1: Seagulls Don't Eat Pickles Read Free Page B

chimed in Trippy.
    “So, how are you going to find it?” asked Bryce.
    Everyone’s eyes were on me, even Shrimp’s.
    “He’s just bluffing,” said Bryce. “Why are we wasting our time talking to some dumb fourth-graders who don’t even have a motor on their boat?!”
    “I am not bluffing,” I said. “We are so going to find it.”
    “How?” asked Bryce. He sat back down and put his hands on the whaler’s shiny silver wheel.
    “Yeah, how?” asked T. J., staring at me with his mouth open so I could see all the chewed-up jelly beans.
    “Maybe we know where Captain Kidd’s treasure map is,” I said. The words sprayed out of my mouth like water out of a whale’s blowhole.
    “No way!” said Bryce.
    “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
    “I dare you, Fish Finelli!” Bryce laughed. “I double-doggie dare you to find that treasure. You’re a big faker!”
    “He is
not
a faker,” said Roger and T. J.
    “Let’s see the map, then!” said Trippy.
    “Yeah!” agreed Bryce, high-fiving him.
    “It’s not here,” I said.
    “Babies playing pirates is all you are.” Bryce revved the motor again. “Yo-ho-ho!”
    “Just you wait, Bryce! You’ll see!”
    “Oh, yeah?” shot back Bryce. “I bet you . . . ” His voice trailed off as he frowned, thinking.
    “Your sunglasses,” Roger cut in. “Fish gets your sunglasses if he finds the treasure.”
    “Okay,” said Bryce, his mirrored sunglasses catching the light as if they were on fire. I had to admit they were pretty cool. They were from Get Whooped, the surfer shop. And they were the kind real surfers wore.
    “But if Bryce wins, what does he get?” said Trippy. “It’s gotta be something good.”
    I looked at Roger. Roger looked at me. T. J. held up his almost empty box of Mallomars and shrugged.
    “If I win—I mean
when
I win—Fish gives me fifty bucks,” said Bryce. “ ’Cause it’s not like he has anything I’d ever want.”
    “Deal?” asked Trippy.
    I didn’t say anything for a minute. I was too busy thinking about how I had a whopping $27.51. How could I possibly give Bryce almost twice that? And forget about the Seagull. It would be long gone before I could even think about buying it.
    “You know what you are?” said Bryce, revving the engine. He held up his forefinger and stuck out his thumb to make an L and pointed it right at me—the universal sign for loser.
    The tips of my ears started burning, the way they do when I get really mad. “Deal,” I said before I could think about it for one more second.
    “You’ve got two weeks to get me my money,” said Bryce. “Or you’ll be sorry.”
    “You’re the one who’s going to be sorry when we find that treasure!” I shouted as the engine roared to life.
    Bryce and Trippy shot off in a surge of spray that sent water all over us. Our boat rocked. Roger and T. J. looked at me as they wiped the water out of their eyes. Feenie and Mmm and Shrimp did, too. No one said anything for a long moment.
    Then Roger grinned. “Fish, are you Captain Kidding me????!!!!”

The Librarian's Got the Booty?!
    "It’s very clear.” Roger pointed to the gold-lettered sign. “By appointment only. And last time I checked, you did not have an appointment.”
    “What are we doing here?” asked T. J. He blew a big pink bubble with his gum. It popped all over his nose.
    “T. J., can you quit chewing so loud?” I whispered. “We don’t want anyone to notice us.”
    “Why not?” said T. J. “I brought my library card.”
    “I did, too,” I said. “That’s not the point.”
    “No, the point is, Fish, we need an appointment,” said Roger. He made his
duh
face, which makes his eyes bulge like a squid’s.
    “Do you really think they’d give a kid an appointment?” I shot back. “It says ‘Researchers Must Go to the Front Desk for Assistance.’ That means they’ll know we’re kids.”
    “So, what’s the plan?” asked Roger.
    “The Lioness donated a bunch of stuff