A Summer of Sundays by Lindsay Eland

Author:Lindsay Eland [Eland, Lindsay]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-60684-413-7
Publisher: EgmontUSA
Published: 2013-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

THE NEXT morning was cloudy and wet, mist hanging over everything like a blanket. Even though I’d stayed up late reading The Life and Death of Birds, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking that Ben Folger was going to appear on our doorstep at any moment.

Bleary-eyed and annoyed, I walked into the kitchen and found my three brothers huddled over bowls of cereal, drips of milk splattered across the table.

Bo smiled and skipped over to me, hugging me tight around the waist. “ ’Morning, Sunday,” he said.

Feeling his wiry arms around me and seeing his hair stuck up in every direction made it impossible to hold on to my anger. I squeezed him against me. “ ’Morning, Bo. Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“Mom went to get more cereal with May,” CJ said, peeling an overripe banana. “May is probably crashing the car right now. I think Dad’s at the library. You should be thankful we came last night. We saved you from being murdered.”

“What? CJ, if you think—”

The screen door opened and Jude waltzed in, taking a seat next to Henry. “ ’Morning,” he said, smiling.

Henry abandoned his cereal and plopped himself into Jude’s lap. “Last night was fun, wasn’t it?”

Jude looked at me warily.

I shrugged and sighed. There wasn’t much we could do about it now. If we got caught, we got caught. “It was, Henry, wasn’t it? But I don’t think we’ll do something like that ever again, okay?”

Everyone nodded except CJ. I knew he would gladly relive last night if he could.

Mom and May returned, and Jude and I managed to slip outside while CJ, Bo, and Henry gorged themselves on more cereal, eating bowl after bowl and betting each other on who could eat the most.

We crept down the porch stairs, avoiding the creaky second step, and went to help at the library. I filled Jude in on what I’d read of the manuscript the night before.

“Orion’s Belt. That means the manuscript and the letters probably belong to the same person. I bet as I keep reading I’ll find even more evidence.”

“Cool. So after our near-death experience have you given up on befriending Old Man Folger? Or at least that he wrote the story?” Jude asked. He kicked at a stray pinecone, causing a squirrel to skitter up a nearby tree.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I hadn’t thought that becoming friends with Ben Folger would be this hard or this scary. In The Secret Garden, it had been pretty easy for Mary Lennox to befriend Colin. But Colin was a cranky boy, not a grumpy potential murderer.

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