My Top Secret Dares & Don'ts by Trudi Trueit

Author:Trudi Trueit
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

10

Don’t Cheat

What are you doing here?” I screech.

Langley hooks a lock of ginger hair behind her ear. “Your mom called my mom and asked us to come. She said she needed some marketing advice.”

“She did?”

“Uh-huh. She said it was your idea.”

“She did ?” It was my idea. I didn’t realize she’d heard me.

The door to the back office opens. My mom appears. Spotting me, she comes around the front desk. “I see you’re in time to greet our newest guests.” My mother holds out a white rectangle to me. My phone! I am confused because, technically, there are still four hours left on my grounding. “Early release for good behavior,” she says quietly, hugging me.

I hug back.

Langley and her mom want to get cleaned up, and I have to get Wyatt, so we all agree to meet in the dining room later. Racing upstairs, I take a cool shower and get dressed. I put on my A-line, buttercup-yellow sundress, and tan ankle-wrap sandals. Brushing my long hair back, I put it into a low ponytail and tie it with a yellow elastic band. I rub sunscreen on my arms and face and add lip gloss before heading downstairs.

“Hi, Jess and Dinah,” I say, on my way past the front desk.

“Hiya, Kestrel,” says Jess. He’s wearing a green bow tie with matching suspenders. With his red hair, he looks a bit like a leprechaun.

“Cute outfit,” Dinah says to me.

“Thanks.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one that thinks so,” she says gently.

I don’t have time to ask her what she means. George is galloping ahead to open the door for me, so I keep going. Flying in from I don’t know where, Breck practically body-slams him to get there first. Bowing slightly, he pulls back on the handle of the oak door. “Miss Adams,” he says, out of breath.

“Mr. McKinnon,” I say.

I skip all the way to Lost Lake, which is strange because I run. I never skip.

“You’re late,” Wyatt says when I get there. He’s perched on a tippy gray picnic table with his chin in his palm, his elbow on his knee, and his feet on the seat.

“Sorry. Langley and her mom showed up out of the blue. How was camp?”

Jumping off the table, he rips his name tag off his shirt. “It stank.”

“Wyatt!” A couple of the camp counselors are nearby.

“Well, it did.”

“Come on.” I pick up his camouflage backpack, and we head across the field. Once we are out of earshot, I ask, “Okay, what happened?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Tell me.”

“No, I mean nothing happened. All week, I’ve been waiting for us to do the zip line or go river rafting or have some kind of rippin’ adventure. Instead, we sing dumb songs and collect lake water in jars to look at under the microscope. Big whoop. I want to carve a canoe or do archery. Why can’t we do fun stuff like that?”

“I’m no expert, but I’m guessing they don’t want to give knives and arrows to eight-year-olds.

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