Sink or Swim Read Free

scuttles over, fluffing her perfect blonde hair as she goes. Norm Swerling, the class snitch, tags along. “What are you people doing hanging out with
them
?” Amy points to me, Sam, and Lucille.
    â€œLooking for eyewitnesses.” Alice struggles to climb over a fallen branch lying on the sidewalk. It is nearly as tall as she is. “The perpetrator appears to have been heading in this direction. Did any of you notice an extremely tall man running toward Cedar Street and carrying a bag of old shoes this morning?” She suddenly wheels on me and points dramatically. “Where were
you
at precisely seven fifty-five a.m., Charlie Drinkwater?”
    â€œI was leaving my house and heading down Lonesome Lane. What are you getting at?”
    â€œAre you absolutely certain?” Alice Pincus persists. “Think hard. Exactly where were you?”
    â€œExactly where he always is at seven fifty-five every school morning,” Lucille interrupts. “On his way to school. Like every other normal person in the entire seventh grade.”
    â€œCharlie Drinkwater, normal?” Amy Armstrong snorts. “That’s a hoot.”
    â€œThat’s not nice!” Sam snaps.
    â€œI don’t intend it to be,” Amy replies.
    â€œDo you swear on the life of your dog that you didn’t see a tall man carrying a big bag of—” Alice Pincus begins.
    â€œGet serious, people. Charlie doesn’t have to swear on anything,” Lucille says. “He isn’t a liar. He’s the most decent, trustworthy person in the entire middle school. Which is a whole lot more than I can say for the rest of you.”
    â€œTrustworthy?”
Alice Pincus shrieks. “That’s a laugh. Are you trying to tell me you don’t think he had anything to do with the break-in at Craig Dieterly’s father’s fish store?” Alice Pincus tucks her notepad back into her waistband and puts her tiny hands on her even tinier waist.
    â€œI’m not
trying
to tell you. I’M TELLING YOU!” Lucille practically shouts. “HE DIDN’T!”
    â€œI was home sleeping,” I protest. “I didn’t do anything. Ask my parents. Ask my brother. Ask my dog. Why would I lie about a thing like that?”
    â€œOh, come off it, Drinkwater.” Amy Armstrong sighs. “Everybody in town thinks you did it.”
    â€œBut that’s ridiculous! Why would I steal my uncle’s old shoes? I may be large and green and scaly, but that doesn’t automatically make me a thief.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Amy Armstrong counters. “Then tell me this: who else could carry away that much salmon?”
    â€œHe even smells like salmon,” Norm Swerling adds.
    â€œJust because I
could
have done it doesn’t mean I actually did it!” Argh! I hate being wrongfully accused. I don’t even like being
rightfully
accused all that much.
    â€œMaybe it wasn’t your idea,” Alice Pincus suggests. “Maybe you only helped break the door down. Maybe you were just an accessory before the fact. But you had something to do with it. I’d bet my life on it. Frankly I didn’t even trust you all that much when you were human, Charlie Drinkwater.”
    With that, Alice Pincus marches away. Her One-Upster and Bandito friends chase after her quicker than you can say “certain very short people have been watching too many crime shows on TV lately.”
    â€œThat is so unfair I can’t stand it!” Lucille exclaims.
    â€œDouble ditto,” Sam says.
    My friends and I take the shortcut through the ravine and hightail it to school. I try not to trip over my enormous flippers. We mutant dinosaurs prefer the plains. We don’t do well with hills and valleys.
    â€œWe’ve got a real mystery on our hands, guys!” Sam exclaims. “With a perp and a victim and unusual circumstances and everything!” Sam can barely catch his breath. “I