“Here are some papers for your mother or father to fill out, plus a packing list,” Amy said. “There are no mobile phones allowed at camp. Oh, and don’t forget to pack bug spray, preferably something natural. We have plenty of mosquitoes.”
With that Amy reached down to scratch her ankle. She pulled the top of her sock down, and I noticed a tattoo above her ankle. It wasn’t a rose or a heart or somebody’s name, but a bright yellow sunburst design!
The logo, I thought, my heart racing. It’s the same logo from Roland’s Renewal Retreat—and cult!
TATTOO CLUE
I couldn’t stop staring at Amy’s ankle even after she pulled her sock back up. The sunburst logo was one of the reasons we’d started our investigation of the cult in the first place.
When we were on the beach at Malachite, George had stepped on a hypodermic needle. We found out it contained a mind-altering drug Roland used on his followers. The needle had been discarded along with bottles and jars that had the yellow sunburst logo. And now here was that logo again on the ankle of Amy Paloma!
“Nancy, what’s up?” George asked as we walked to Bess’s car.
“Huh?” I said, snapping out of my thoughts.
I glanced at Maggie, happily reading the list Amy had given her. The last thing I wanted to do was spoil her excitement, or even worse—scare her.
“George and I were just talking about the camp we went to when we were kids,” Bess said. “What was it called . . . ?”
“Camp Tree House!” I said with a smile.
“What did you do there?” Maggie asked. “Did you swim, hike, or play volleyball?”
“Actually, we solved a mystery,” I said with a laugh. “We were just eight years old.”
On the ride home, we talked about our old days at Camp Tree House. Gradually, I felt better about the sunburst design on Amy’s ankle, wondering if I might have overreacted, just a bit. There were sunburst designs practically everywhere—even on the bottle of sunscreen on Bess’s dashboard.
Okay. I am not going to obsess about Roland anymore, I decided. My job at Safer’s Cheese Shop starts tomorrow—and not a day too soon.
It took me, Bess, and George only a few days to settle into a nice, predictable routine—despite Casabian-mania sweeping through River Heights.
Maggie became a happy camper at Camp Athena. I started my job at Safer’s Cheese Shop, where I quickly learned the difference between Swiss cheese and Muenster. The Casabian sisters settled into their new “regular” jobs too. Mia was working as a barista at the new Three Bean Café on Main Street. Mallory was doing her best at the supermarket cash register. But Mandy had already been fired from the preschool, the pet shop, and even the beauty salon (for refusing to sweep “gross” hair off the floor). According to Deirdre’s tweets, she had the “perfect” job for Mandy, although she didn’t say what it was.
Friday morning I parked my hybrid on Main Street. As I neared Safer’s, I saw a crowd in front of the cheese shop. Was Mr. Safer giving out freebies?
I noticed that the crowd was mostly younger girls, many wearing Casabian Sisters T-shirts. Some tees said, I’M A MANDY, I’M A MALLORY, or I’M A MIA.
Forget the freebies. The Casabian sisters were probably inside the store, which explained all the fans.
“Excuse me, excuse me, you guys,” I said over and over as I pushed through the crowd. “I work here.”
“Nice try!” a girl with long dark hair sneered. “We said that too, but it didn’t work.”
I glared at the rude kid and the two other girls she was with. Where had I seen them before?
“Nancy!” a voice called.
A police officer who recognized me was holding the door open and waving me inside. I squeezed through the shouting fans, thanked the officer, and burst into the shop at last.
“Made it,” I said, sighing with relief.
Looking around, I was surprised to see no Casabians—or customers. Mr. Safer was standing behind the counter, singing and slicing a huge wheel of Gouda while adding his own lyrics to a Broadway show tune.
“Cheddar and feta and ripe gorgonzola,” Mr. Safer boomed. “These are a few of my favorite cheese. . . .”
“Hi, Mr. Safer,” I said.
“Nancy!” he answered. He wiped his hands on his white smock as he walked from behind the counter. “I tried calling you at home, but your housekeeper told me you had already left.”
“Were you calling about what’s happening outside?” I asked.
“Well . . . sort of,” Mr. Safer said. His eyes darted around the room uncomfortably.
“Is there a special sale?” I asked.
“Heavens, no,” Mr. Safer said. He took a deep breath. “Sorry, Nancy, but I can’t have you work here anymore.”
I blinked hard. Had I just heard what I thought I just heard?
“I can’t work here anymore?” I asked. “Why? Haven’t I been doing a good job?”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Safer said.
“I’m friendly to the customers,” I went on. “I’ve gotten great at suggesting the perfect cheeses for recipes and parties—”
“It’s not that, Nancy,” Mr. Safer said sadly. “I had to give your job to someone else.”
“Who?” I asked, still not believing it.
Mr. Safer was about to reply when a familiar voice cried, “Ewwwww! This cheese smells gross!”
I looked past Mr. Safer to see Mandy Casabian coming out of the walk-in fridge. She had a huge wheel of cheese in her arms—and a disgusted look on her face.
“Mandy?” I asked.
“Don’t forget to shut the door, Mandy,” Mr. Safer told her with a smile. “So far you’re doing an excellent job.”
But I wasn’t smiling. Not one bit. I had a feeling whose idea it had been to replace me with Mandy.
“Do you know how many grams of fat are in one of these?” Mandy asked as she struggled to place the cheese wheel on a shelf behind the counter. “I’ll bet you can get cellulite from just looking at it.”
“Mr. Safer,” I said, lowering my voice. “This was Deirdre Shannon’s idea, wasn’t it?”
“Deirdre did suggest Mandy,” Mr. Safer said in practically a whisper. “But that wasn’t the only reason I hired her.”
“Why did you?” I asked.
“Theater, Nancy,” Mr. Safer said. “I’m hoping Mandy, Mallory, and Mia will agree to star in my production of The Three Sisters by Chekhov.”
I stared at Mr. Safer. I knew that when he wasn’t selling cheese, he was directing plays at the River Heights Theater. What I didn’t know was that he could be so star-struck.
“You know theater is my life,” Mr. Safer went on. “Besides cheese, of course.”
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe Mandy and I can both work here.”
“I can only afford to pay one worker at a time,” Mr. Safer said. “Besides, as soon as Mandy commits to the play, she won’t have time to work here anymore—and you can come back.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mumbled.
“I knew you’d understand, Nancy,” Mr. Safer said. “It’s not like you really need this job. After that case you solved on Malachite Beach, you’re a famous detective.”
Mandy shrieked as the wheel of cheese fell to the floor with a clunk.
“It’s okay, dear,” Mr. Safer said, running to her aid. “Let me give you a hand with that.”
I decided to suck it up and not argue, but the whole thing did stink—worse than some of Mr. Safer’s cheeses. Deirdre had put Mr. Safer up to this—not just to get her a job in town, but to get me fired.
“Bye, Mr. Safer . . . Mandy,” I said.
I was just about to leave when the door flew open. Some guy wearing a wide straw hat pushed past me, bumping my shoulder, not even saying “excuse me.”
Mandy can have this job, I told myself as I left the store. And let Deirdre Shannon deal with the crazy Casabians.
The crowd went wild when they saw me come out of the store.
“Did
you see Mandy?” someone called out.
“Are you going back in?” another shouted. “Can you get me her autograph?”
“No comment,” I said, shoving through the crowd. I was happy when I made it through—and even happier to see Bess’s car double-parked at the curb. George was in the passenger seat.
“Nancy, what’s up?” Bess called.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I said. “Mr. Safer just sacked me for Mandy Casabian.”
George leaned out the window and said, “He gave your job to Mandy? Are you serious?”
“Totally.” I sighed. “Deirdre was behind it, but Mr. Safer has his own plans.”
Before I could explain about the play, Bess nodded toward the crowd. “Hey, aren’t those the girls we saw at Maggie’s camp?” she asked. “The ones who were wearing the Casabian Sisters T-shirts in the dining hall?”
I turned toward the store and looked. Bess was right. It was the three rude girls who’d looked familiar to me. So that’s where I’d seen them before—Camp Athena!
“That’s them,” I said. “I wonder if Amy knows they’re not at camp.”
“I wonder if Amy knows what they’re eating!” George said.
One of the girls was digging into a small bag of chips. The two others were stuffing their mouths with candy bars.
“They’re not supposed to be eating junk food!” I said. “I thought Camp Athena was all about healthy lifestyles.”
“Well, they’re not at camp now,” Bess said angrily. “How did they get their sneaky little hands on all that?”
The girl eating the chips noticed us watching and stuck her tongue out.
“Nice,” I said.
“Well, this day is off to an awful start,” Bess said, leaning her arm on the steering wheel. “You get fired from your job, and some of my dad’s tools were stolen this morning.”
“What?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Since the paint in his shed is dry, I was hanging the tools back on their hooks,” Bess said. “Everything was there, except the hammer and wire cutters. I couldn’t find them anywhere.”
“Maybe your mom or dad used them,” I said.
“I already checked, and they didn’t,” Bess said. “But we left the window open in the shed last night. Someone must have reached in and grabbed the tools off the table.”
“Why’d you leave the window open?” George asked.
“To dry the paint,” Bess said. “I’ll check again later; maybe they’ll turn up.”
“That’s odd, but maybe your dad forgot he lent them to a neighbor,” I said. “Okay, guys, I’d better get to my car and drive home. The less I see of this place the better.”
“Wait, Nancy,” Bess said. “Why don’t we drive down to the river?”
“Why the river?” I asked.
“We saw Ned driving toward the river with the kayak strapped to the roof of his car,” George said.
“It’s a kayak for two, remember?” Bess said, a gleam in her eye. “Ned’s got his car, so he could drive you back to yours afterward.”
The thought of kayaking with Ned on the lazy river made me smile. After being sacked, I definitely needed something to smile about—even though I was still kind of annoyed at him for running the Casabian interview instead of ours.
“Well, why not?” I said, opening the back door.
The three of us sang along to Bess’s iPod as she drove the car down to the river. The late-summer weather was so perfect, I was happy to have some time off—even if it was because my job had been taken by Mandy.
When we reached the river, I saw Ned’s car, parked next to another. I got out of Bess’s car and walked toward the water. Ned was paddling his kayak away from shore, but my heart sank when I saw he wasn’t alone. Sharing his kayak for two was . . . Mia Casabian!
“Omigod!” Bess said when she saw them.
“Ned!” George shouted, to let him know we were there. “What’s up?”
Ned’s jaw dropped when he saw me. He forced a half smile before waving with one side of his paddle. Mia waved at us too.
“Sorry, Nancy,” Bess said. “Had we known, we would never have brought you here.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said. “Ned didn’t tell me he was going kayaking with Mia.”
“Why should he?” a voice behind us asked.
I gritted my teeth. It was Deirdre.
“Hello, Deirdre,” I said, turning to look her straight in the eye. “Was this your idea too?”
“Yes, and Ned agreed to do it for show,” Deirdre said. “The sisters are working real jobs in a real town. Why shouldn’t they date real guys, too?”
“Because Ned is my boyfriend?” I replied angrily. “Of all the real guys in River Heights, you had to introduce her to him?”
Deirdre pulled out her metallic purple smart-phone and said, “Excuse me. I have to make a business call.” And then she walked away.
“We can wait here until Ned paddles back, Nancy,” George said, glaring at Deirdre. “Then you guys can have it out.”
I didn’t feel like talking to Ned. Not just because he was kayaking with Mia, but because he hadn’t told me. And I had just spoken to him the night before.
“Ned knows where to find me,” I said, turning toward Bess’s car. “Let’s go back to town and grab something to eat.”
“Good idea,” George said. “I think we all need to cool off after this.”
As we approached the car, Bess’s phone rang.
“I’ll bet it’s my dad,” she said. “He’s probably wondering where the wire cutters and hammer are.”
Bess answered, but it was Maggie calling from camp. She was talking so loud and frantically that I could hear her on the other end.
“I’m calling from the camp office phone,” Maggie said. “They left me alone for a minute, so I have to talk fast.”
“What’s up?” Bess asked. “If it’s about a care package, forget it. We’re not allowed to send junk food.”
“Listen, Bess. This is serious,” Maggie said.
Bess pulled the phone away from her ear as Maggie shouted. George and I traded puzzled looks.
“Maggie, calm down and tell me what’s wrong,” Bess said.
I could hear Maggie’s voice as she cried, “You’ve got to get me out of this horrible place, Bess. You’ve got to get me out now!”
PANIC AT CAMP ATHENA
“Maggie, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on,” Bess pleaded. But Maggie refused to tell until we got to the camp.
“Okay,” Bess finally said. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Is there a full moon today?” George asked as we slipped into Bess’s car. “Too many weird things are happening.”
I tried not to think about Ned as Bess drove away from the river. Instead I turned my thoughts to Maggie. Why had she sounded so frantic?
“I thought Maggie liked camp,” I said.
“She did,” Bess said, shrugging. “She liked being friends with Alice—she even liked the food.”
We reached Camp Athena in record time. Maggie was standing at the gate, waiting for us. Once we parked, she ran to us in a panic.
“Okay, Maggie, spill,” Bess said. “A week ago you worshipped this place.”
“I did, and so did Alice, but it’s not the same anymore,” Maggie said, talking quickly. “Amy used to be nice, but she’s been acting totally weird lately.”
“Weird how?” I asked.
“She acts like she couldn’t care less about us,” Maggie said. “She hasn’t posted a schedule for two days. The cooks can’t get her to talk about menus or stock up on food, so we’ve been eating leftovers every day. The tofu is drying up and starting to turn green.”
“That doesn’t sound like something Amy would do,” Bess said.
Maggie continued, “She’s also been snapping at us—and the counselors. She doesn’t even care about the mean girls.”
“Mean girls?” I asked.
“Darcy, Lindsay, and Ava,” Maggie said, in almost a whisper. “They’re from Bunk Diana, and they sneak junk food into the camp, which they refuse to share.”
“How do they get their hands on junk food?” I asked.
“Hel-lo? They sneak out of camp too,” Maggie said. “Either Amy doesn’t know or she just doesn’t care.”
“Okay, so they’re sneaky,” Bess said. “What makes them mean?”
“Just because they don’t share their candy bars?” George asked.
“Are you kidding me?” said Maggie. “They came up with nicknames for everybody. Mine is Magpie. They write nasty things about other campers on the bunk walls, and a couple of nights ago they squirted shaving cream all around our beds and the floor.”
Just then I remembered the three girls we’d seen outside of Safer’s Cheese Shop—the rude ones with the junk food.
“By any chance, Maggie,” I said, “are Darcy, Lindsay, and Ava fans of the Casabian sisters?”
“Totally,” Maggie said. “They style their hair like Mandy, Mallory, and Mia and wear the Casabian Sisters T-shirts practically every day.”
I turned to Bess and George. “Those were the girls we saw at Safer’s today,” I said.
“They must have snuck out of camp again,” George said.
“You see?” Maggie said. She grabbed Bess’s arm. “Can you talk to Mom and get her to take me home?”
“Home?” Bess said.
“Maybe Alice can go home with me,” Maggie said eagerly. “Until her mom can take her back to California.”
“Whoa, whoa, Maggie,” Bess cut in. “Why didn’t you call Mom in the first place?”
“Because she never listens to me,” Maggie said sulkily. “She listens to you because you’re the older sister.”
“Fine,” Bess said. “But I know what Mom’s going to say. She’s going to tell you to stay in camp for the next two weeks and tough it out.”
“Even with Amy acting so weird?” Maggie asked.
“We can talk to Amy,” I said.
“What about the mean girls?” Maggie wailed.
“As long as they’re not targeting you, try to be where they’re not. There are a lot of different activities at camp, so keep busy. There’ll always be mean girls around,” George said with a frown. “No matter how old you get.”
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