I So Don't Do Mysteries Read Free Page B

trouble staying in a location?”
    Below me, a plastic shovel stands to attention, then begins digging. I guess
she’s decided to hang out in the sandbox.
    â€œI figured he’d remarry,” she says, “but not so
soon.”
    â€œYeah. Well. He was pretty much a basket case after you died. She’s
kinda been good for him.” Can you say awkward?
    The shovel digs faster. “Weren’t the neighbors helpful? And how about
Stefanie?”
    â€œYeah, everyone was helpful, bringing meals and stuff. And we still see Stefanie
every once in a while. But you guys were so tight from being partners for a long time that I think chilling
with us makes her sad.”
    The shovel stops and lies down.
    I have a sudden vision of Dad and The Ruler kissing. I wouldn’t want Mom to
witness that. Actually, I wouldn’t want to witness that grossness myself. “Can you get
into our house?”
    â€œI can’t cross thresholds.” A toy dump truck drives slowly
around the sandbox, leaving wavy tire tracks in its wake. “I can only make contact outside. And
only with certain people.”
    â€œWho else besides me?”
    â€œWell . . .” The truck bumps a wall. “No one. You’re
the only one.”
    A warm, fuzzy feeling balloons inside me. I’m special. “Not
Sam?”
    Mom sighs. “Even in death I have to deal with sibling rivalry?”
    â€œNot rivalry. Just an innocent question.”
    â€œOnly you.”
    I punch the air.
    â€œSherry, I saw that.”
    â€œOops.” But I can’t wipe the grin off my face.
    â€œSherry. Sherry.” She sounds panicky. “I’m
fading.”
    â€œDon’t leave me.” My insides squeeze tight at hearing my
always-in-charge, always-decisive mom half-hysterical. And when will she be back?
    The truck flies onto the lawn. “I’m slipping. I can’t hang
on.”
    I look around wildly. Where is she now? A coffee-scented breeze wafts by my ear.
    Her voice is little more than a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone about
me.”
    â€œSure, sure. Whatever you say.” My pulse races.
    â€œThis is important. It’s an Academy rule.”
    â€œI get it, Mom.”
    And she’s gone. I can tell somehow. The air is thinner or something, which I
know sounds totally bogus. Plus, the smell of coffee has disappeared. And nothing is moving in the
sandbox.
    The wren squawks and flaps off, the spots on his wings glowing in the dusk. Finally.
He was seriously scaring me.
    I shudder like a twanged rubber band. Why me? Why is my life so complicated? All I
want is Josh Morton. And maybe a raise in my allowance. And I wouldn’t spit at a D-free
report card.
    I have to help her. I can’t let my mother go to a horrible flunked-out ghost
world. A horrible flunked-out ghost world where we won’t get to see each other.
    Whack
. A stick hits the top of my head. “Sam!” I scream. So
much for privacy in the pear tree.
    My brother, his hair stick-uppier than usual, squints at me from under the tree. He raises
his skinny little arm to launch another stick. “Dinner!”
    â€œThrow that, and you’ll live to regret it.”
    He waves a handful of twig ammo.
    â€œDo your friends know you wet the bed last week?”
    He lowers his arm.
    I really should go easy on the shrimpy jerk. After all, now I have proof positive that
I’m Mom’s favorite. Plus, poor Sam is stuck in Phoenix for spring break with
Grandma Baldwin, who farts and snores through the evening television lineup.
    While I get to go to San Diego.
    And save Mom’s afterlife.

Fifteen minutes later I’m sitting at the kitchen table
with a plate of rubbery whole-wheat spaghetti and ground turkey covered in runny fat-free tomato
sauce. The Ruler’s cooking dinner for us. Again. She’s a health-food nut who seriously
overseasons. I swear I’m losing precious