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

else?” She pauses, and I can
imagine her narrowing her eyes the way she used to when she was thinking hard. “And
you’re probably even more interested in boys now.”
    Ack. “No, no, no,” I say, “everything’s chill. I mean,
other than the stuff you mentioned. Because that stuff is way stressful.” My babbling
won’t stop. It’s like my mouth is on fast-forward. “Stressful wedding, stressful
mystery challenge, stressful boys. Yuppers. You name it, it’s—”
    â€œWhat’s going on, Sherry?”
    I am such a lousy liar. “Nothing, nothing, nothing. Everything’s chill,
chill, chi—”
    â€œDon’t tell me you and Junie had a fight. You two have been friends for
a long time. And I count on Junie to keep you grounded.”
    â€œOh, Mom.” I roll my eyes. “Junie and me are good.
We’re always good.” And in my relief at not having to lie, I say too much. “She
totally gets my anxiety about—” I bite my tongue. Hard.
    â€œYour anxiety about what?”
    â€œNothing.” I swallow. Hard.
    â€œYour anxiety about what?” Mom asks again, her voice low and
even.
    â€œIt’s not my fault,” I wail. “You know what I’m
like. It’s unfair to dump a mystery on someone who sucks at challenges.”
    â€œWhat. Does. Junie. Know.”
    â€œEverything. She knows everything.” My chin hits my chest.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
    Silence. A colossally enormous, scary silence.

It’s afternoon, and I’m at the airport with
my dad. It’s like our school cafeteria: crowded and echoey-noisy, with too many different
smells all jumbled together.
    I’ve already checked in and am clutching my A boarding pass. My dad
explained the whole system to me. On Southwest, you don’t get assigned a seat but get herded
onto the plane with everyone in your group, A, B or C. The As go first. The earlier you arrive at the
airport, the more likely you are to snag an A, and then you have a better chance at snagging the seat of
your choice.
    We’re waiting for Junie and Amber. Dad keeps checking his watch the way
people jab repeatedly at the elevator button. He’s sweating it because he has stuff to do before
his and The Ruler’s flight later this afternoon. Like chauffeuring Sam to Grandma
Baldwin’s.
    People are now walking around with B passes. Yikes. Where are Junie and Amber? I
absolutely, positively must sit by Junie, so that we can work on a strategy for saving the rhinos.
According to my mother, I really messed up big this time.
    Apparently, now that Junie’s in on the whole ghost-Academy-mystery thing, my
mom’s study group can’t help us out. Academy rules state that student ghosts are
allowed only a certain number of helpers on their spiritual team, and mortal helpers count for more than
ghost ones.
    The stupid Academy uses a stupid system like stupid Weight Watchers points. I know
all about those because when my mother did Weight Watchers, we all did Weight Watchers. Basically,
Junie is worth an entire bucket of KFC. Plus mashed potatoes, gravy and four biscuits. By confiding in
Junie, I used up all my mother’s points. And then some. Which means no study group. Even if
Junie backed out, which she obviously won’t, we can’t recoup the points.
    The only possible loophole in the whole dumb point thing is my grandfather, because
birds are freebies, like water and cabbage. But can Grandpa, with his ancient old wings, make it to San
Diego? If he can’t lead my mom there, how will she ever find her way?
    Yuppers. I definitely need planning time with Junie. Especially now that I’m
down to her, myself, hopefully my mom and maybe my grandfather. Of the four of us, Junie’s
the only one on honor roll. I’m hoping Amber tails some cute guy onto the plane and hangs out
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