You're Invited by Jen Malone

Author:Jen Malone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

Becca

Daily Love Horoscope for Scorpio:

Venus is aligned with Pluto. Something you thought you needed might already be in your possession.

I . . . can’t . . . run . . . any . . . more,” I force out through gasps for air. I prop my hands on my knees and wait for my heart to stop slamming against my rib cage. Ick.

Sadie’s almost to the lighthouse, but she stops and puts one fist on her hip. Calling above the wind and the waves crashing, she says, “Don’t you quit on me now, Becca Elldridge! We have to find these dogs and get them back safely.”

She jogs toward me, also huffing and puffing (but maybe not as bad as me) and lowers her voice.

“And when we do, we are totally putting an amendment in our company bylaws. No events involving animals. EVER. Possible exceptions for marzipan ones on top of cakes. I swear, after the whole thing with Fake Max and the seagull, you would have thought I’d learned my lesson.”

She reaches me, sticks out her hand, and helps me up.

“Got it. No animals. I vote ‘yay,’ ” I say.

Sadie smiles. “Okay, so we’ve covered the town square and the gazebo. We let your parents know at the Visitor’s Center, Lauren’s checking the marina and the souvenir shops, and Vi’s looking by the shuffleboard courts. That leaves the lighthouse, right?”

I sigh and start trudging through the sand in the direction of the redbrick building when a movement to my left catches my eye. A furry movement. Kind of like a tail wagging.

“Sades, hold up!” I point to a fleck of brown twitching back and forth in the deep dune grass.

“Uh-oh,” Sadie says.

Uh-oh is right. If that’s really Custard Von Whatever Whatever, we’re in big trouble. Because he’s picking his way through the dune grass in a protected area. Like, an area where sea turtles lay their eggs that abso-posi-lutely cannot be disturbed, because then the baby turtles could die and stuff! Plus the town is crazy about keeping the dunes up because they stop the island from eroding into nothingness. And we can’t go after him because the fine for walking in there is like a trillion gazillion dollars.

“What are we supposed to do now?” I wail.

Sadie shoots me a don’t-be-so-melodramatic look. I am a master at interpreting that look. Let’s just say I get it from my friends . . . frequently. And also from some not-friends.

“We’ll walk up to the edge and call for him. I bet he comes right out.” Sadie is already marching her way to the dune.

“Here, Custard Von Something-Ridiculous!” I call.

Another look from Sadie. “It’s Custard Van Twinkle.”

“Oh, ’cause that’s so much better?”

Sadie smiles and starts clapping her hands. “Here, boy! Here, doggy. I have a treat for you. . . .”

She dangles a dog biscuit in the air in front of her. The tail retreats farther into the grass, and I moan.

“It’s not working!”

“I know,” Sadie says, and we lock eyes with despair.

An earsplitting whistle cracks the air to our right, and Sades and I both swing our necks like we’re marionettes.

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