I So Don't Do Mysteries (7 page)

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
next to him. That'd leave me and Junie free to scheme without any Amber interruptions.

Dad looks at me tap-tapping my boarding pass on my wrist. He puts his hand over
mine and stops the movement. “Worried about sitting alone?”

“Basically.”

“They could've gotten their boarding passes online,” he says.
He squeezes my shoulder. “It'll work out, Sherry.” He surveys the waiting area.
“And there they are.” He calls out to Junie's mom, “Over here,
May.”

Dodging people, she heads toward us while Junie and Amber go to a huge window
overlooking the runway. I wave to Junie, but she doesn't see me and keeps on yakking to
Amber. Weird. She's not normally chatty-chatty. That's more my role.

And Junie's wearing a new outfit: paisley capris and a fuchsia tie-at-the-waist
blouse. Did she go shopping with Amber? I'm Junie's shopping buddy. Have been for,
like, years. My heart skips a bunch of beats.

Dad glances at his watch for the million-and-first time. “Do you mind waiting to
see the girls off, May?”

“No problem, Bob.” She pops up her clip-on sunglasses.
“It's the least I can do for our personal travel agent.”

Dad pulls me in for a tight hug. “Take good care of yourself, pumpkin. I need
you back safe and sound.”

I actually tear up watching the familiar, dorky way he bounces on his feet as he hurries
away. Up, down. Up, down. Dorkity dork.

Eyeing my face, May says, “From what Junie said, I was expecting much
worse.”

Thankyouverymuch, Junie. Speaking of which, where is she?

I look around. Shoulders touching, Amber and Junie are still at the window, watching
planes land and take off. They're hanging out together? Am I in a parallel universe? My heart
skips some more beats.

“Go join the girls.” May gives me a little push.

I plod to the window.

They're both holding A boarding passes.

Phew.

Amber is clipping Junie's hair at the top of her head, so that they look more like
sisters than cousins. Well, only from behind and only from the neck up. I'm not being mean,
just honest. Their faces are totally different. Junie is freckle city, while Amber has perfect Snow White
skin. And Junie outweighs Amber by about twenty pounds. Whatever. They're looking super
chummy, and it doesn't feel good. In fact, I'm probably going to faint.

When I get near them, I say, “Hi.” But it comes out as more of a
whisper. Probably because I'm close to keeling over. Anyway, they don't hear me, so I
raise my voice in fake-o cheerfulness and say, “Hi, guys.”

They both turn around and toss off a hi that's definitely lacking in the
enthusiasm department.

Amber says, “I wanna hit the gift shop before we board.”

Junie turns to follow her.

Ack. Ack. Ack. “Uh, Junie? Can we talk?”

“Sure.” She gestures with her head to the store aisle.

“Uh, privately?” Duh. Has she forgotten about my mother? And how we
have a mystery to solve? Plus, I need to fill her in on the latest developments, like how my grandfather
is the state bird and how Junie and I may be carrying out the bulk of the investigation.

She raises her eyebrows. Only the teeniest, tiniest fraction, but when you've
known someone as long as I've known Junie, you know exactly where her eyebrows sit.
She's mad at me about something. But what? It doesn't matter. I'll grovel and
apologize and grovel some more. I so, so, so need her help to save my mom.

“I'm gettin' gum.” Amber walks away.

The minute she's out of earshot, I start talking at freeway speed. “My
grandfather, the one who died in a car accident, is actually a wren. And he's coming to San
Diego to help us. Hopefully. And—”

Junie looks at me. “Enough. I don't want to hear any
more.”

My jaw hits the floor.

“Sherry, you're delusional.”

Okay. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I sense it's bad.
“Huh?”

“You're unbalanced, not thinking clearly. I believe it would be healthiest
if you didn't talk about your mother or ghosts or, apparently, even birds.”

“But she needs us.”

Junie holds up her hands like stop signs. “You need professional
help.”

“I need you!”

“Sherry.” Junie's hands are still up. “We'll write
to Dr. Phil after spring break.”

“I know this all seems crazy. I get that. But I'm not crazy. I am so not
crazy.” Desperation makes my voice crack, so I sound like half the boys in our class.
“It's really important that you believe me, Junie.”

Her eyes are unblinking and blank. She's not budging.

“It's you! The problem is you!” I stamp my foot. “You
know what you are? You are stupid. Very, very stupid.”

She goes all still except for her nostrils, which flare. Being smart is really important to
Junie.

“You heard me. Stupid. Seriously stupid. Severely stupid. Just because the
Academy of Spirits isn't in one of your textbooks doesn't mean it doesn't
exist.”

Suddenly the loudspeaker crackles. “All passengers holding A passes may now
board the plane.”

Junie looks down at my A pass.

I stare at her A pass.

Her face all red and shiny and her nostrils still flaring, Junie says, “Let's
sit apart. We both need some time to cool off.”

I am so dead in the water.

I spend the
flight across the aisle and a few rows behind
Junie and Amber. Heads together, they spend the flight talking and laughing and listening to each
other's iPods. By the time our plane touches down in San Diego, I've figured out two
important things.

First, I have to get along with them. I need Junie's brains, and I need
Amber's driving abilities.
Plan:
I will blast Amber and Junie with megadoses of Sherry
niceness.

Second, I gotta get my mom and grandfather out here. I might still be doomed with
them, but I'm definitely doomed without them.
Plan:
I will blaze a caffeine trail for my
mother. I will think of something to help Grandpa find me.

Shrugging on my backpack, I follow Amber and Junie off the plane. In the terminal,
Junie points to a sign showing the direction of the baggage-pickup area. By the time we get there,
luggage from our flight is already riding around on the carousel.

“I see mine.” Amber sashays toward a Silly Putty–pink suitcase. Within
seconds, she's standing, a hip jutted out, while some guy hauls her bag off the conveyor
belt.

Junie and me hang in silence, watching the carousel.

“Isn't that our luggage?” I say, ever the helpful friend.

“Thanks, Sherry.” Junie's trying to get along too.

In a gentle arc, she glides her bag off the carousel.

Unfortunately, it takes me several tries to wrestle my suitcase into submission. I may
have seriously overpacked. Panting, I finally get it upright and on its one remaining wheel. I stick out
my lower lip and puff my bangs off my forehead.

Amber's staring at me like I'm contagious. Finally, she says,
“Where's your aunt?”

I look around. “She must be here somewhere.”

Amber frowns.

“What does she look like?” Junie asks.

I pause for a sec, narrowing down the description. “Geriatric.”

“Fine,” Amber says with a heavy, disgusted sigh, “let's
see if we can find her.”

We meander through the baggage-claim area. Amber and Junie lightly tug on their
suitcases, which obey like well-trained dogs by rolling behind them in perfect straight lines. I alternately
yank, push, kick and drag my crippled, misbehaving case. It wobbles all lopsided, attacking the ankles
of all who stray into its crazed path.

“You have her phone number?” Junie asks.

“Great idea.” I unzip my backpack, pull out my cell and turn it on.
Stored in it is Great-aunt Margaret's number, along with numbers for my dad, The Ruler,
Grandma Baldwin, Junie, Brianna, Kristin, Margo, Sara, and, of course, Josh. I am so loving having a
cell phone.

Before I finish scrolling through the address book, my phone rings.

“It better be her.” Amber scowls.

I look at the screen. Dad. I flip open the phone. “We can't find
Great-aunt Margaret.”

“And you won't,” he says. “She's at the
hospital with her best friend, a sorority sister from decades ago, who fell down and broke a
hip.”

“What about us?”

“Take a taxi to the condo. Your aunt's going to stay at her
friend's place to help when she gets out of the hospital. Just for a few days. Just until the
daughter gets into town.” Dad pauses, probably to crack his knuckles. “Margaret seems
to think you three will be okay. She left her car for Amber. I don't know, though. I could call
Southwest and see about bringing you all back here today.”

Ah. It is tempting to fly back to Phoenix, away from my woeful woes with Amber and
Junie and toward blissful bliss with Josh. But, no, no, no, there's the huge issue of my
mother's afterlife. “It's chill, Dad.”

“I'm not sure what I'd do with you here, anyway. Paula and I
are at the airport, waiting to board,” he says. “I'm worried your
grandmother's starting to lose it. She's obsessed about some bird that hasn't
been to her feeder today.”

I pump the air with a victory fist. Yes, yes, yes! Who knew I'd feel such joy
and relief at the thought of a plump, balding old wren flapping out to meet me?

He goes on to give me detailed instructions about taking a taxi, paying for it with money
he gave me and touching base daily with my great-aunt. Then he makes sure I have her address and
tells me where the front-door key is hidden. Finally he winds up the call with how much he loves me
and a reminder to use common sense.

“Ditto,” I say. I'm just about to snap my phone closed, when he
calls my name.

“That was a really nice thing you did for Sam, giving him your mother's
afghan to take to Grandma's.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, “whatever. He
is
feeding my fish for
me.” I go to hang up and Dad calls my name again. It's like he can't let me off
the phone.

“I almost forgot. Margaret said she left something fun for you guys on the
kitchen counter.”

“Groovy,” I say, and disconnect.

“What's going on?” Junie asks.

Amber's tapping her foot.

I fill them in.

“Maybe she left us party supplies,” Amber says.

“I kind of doubt it,” I say. In an effort to remain nice, I do not call her
an idiot.

Amber spins around, doing syllable hand claps. “Par-ty, par-ty.”

Junie herds us out of the baggage area and toward the exit, where we join the cab line.
The whole time, Amber's running off at the mouth about guys and parties. Junie and me are
quiet. I don't know where Junie's head's at, but I'm stressing to the
max. Because now, Great-aunt Margaret won't be giving me even one single ride to the Wild
Animal Park.

I'm totally dependent on Amber.