The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask

by Linda Joy Singleton

  I roll up to my apartment complex, lock my bike in the rack, and sniff the air for a whiff of celebratory dessert. When Dad bakes, he opens all the windows so yummy smells sweeten the air. In our old neighborhood, people found excuses to stop by.

  As I walk up the stairs, I don’t smell anything baking. I unlock the front door and cautiously peek inside the living room. The TV is off and no one sits at the computer. I check the kitchen, and it’s empty too.

  Voices murmur from down the hall, so I slip into spy mode and investigate. My twin older sisters, Kiana and Kenya, share the first room. I don’t hear them, so I check inside and see the usual mess—beds unmade and clothes scattered on the carpet. My sisters are probably hanging with their friends. I peek into my brother’s room too. Kyle is a neat freak, so everything is where it belongs, from the pillows on his bed to the pens on his computer desk. All that’s missing is Kyle.

  Voices rise then fall in my parents’ room.

  I creep over to their door to listen.

  “—was so sure,” Dad says with a groan.

  “The next one will be even better,” Mom encourages, but her voice is heavy with disappointment.

  “If there’s a next one,” he adds grimly.

  Oh no! I realize Dad didn’t get the job. Last time this happened, he paced the apartment like a caged animal for days and growled if anyone mentioned the word job. No surprise my siblings found somewhere else to be.

  “You’ll find another job,” Mom says confidently.

  “Not in the food industry and”—he lowers his voice, so I miss a few words—“have to move to a big city.”

  “I hope not.” Mom sighs. “Sun Flower is our home. I don’t want to leave.”

  “I like it here too, but I can’t get a job, and your job at the florist is only part-time. Moving may be our only option.”

  “I know …” She sighs again. “But moving away will be hard on the kids. Let’s keep this a secret until we know for sure. No reason to worry them.”

  “I’ll do the worrying—it’s the one job I can’t be fired from,” Dad adds bitterly. Then I hear the sound of footsteps.

  “Drats,” I mutter. He’s coming my way.

  I rush down the hall and duck into my room. Breathing hard, I sprawl out on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. The apartment walls are thin, so I can hear Dad stomp down the hall into the kitchen and slam the cupboards. He must be “vent-cooking,” a word my sisters came up with to describe the pots and pans banging when he’s in a bad mood while making dinner. My sisters say it’s therapeutic. I say it’s noisy, so I put in earbuds and listen to my iPod while I catch up on my homework.

  It’s hard not to think about the secret I just overheard. But factoring equations distracts me from worrying. By the time I join my family for dinner, Dad has calmed down enough to smile. He even makes a pun about what a ghost calls spaghetti —spookghetti—and it feels good to laugh.

  Before I go to bed that night, I take out my notebook from the hidden drawer in my wooden chest and flip open to a new page.

  Secret twenty-nine—If Dad doesn’t find a job, we’ll have to move. Losing our house was bad enough, but leaving Sun Flower would be worse. No more biking over to Gran’s house to visit her and our dog, Handsome. I’ll be the new girl at a new school where I don’t know anyone. No CCSC, Skunk Shack, secret kittens, or Leo or Becca.

  As I bike to school the next morning, I brainstorm ways to stay in Sun Flower. It would be cool if I could win a lottery and hand over a huge check to my parents. While I earn some money for the CCSC Kitten Care Fund by returning lost pets, I’m too young to get a job or even enter a lottery. How can I help my family?

  I don’t have any ideas, but Leo and Becca may.

  We can make it a CCSC project.

  Smiling, I coast through the gates into Helen Corning Middle School and lock up my bike.

  Becca is in my science class. I slip into the seat behind her, but she doesn’t turn around to talk to me because we’re keeping our club a secret to protect the kittens. One of her three Sparkler group friends, Chloe, sits across from her, and they’re always whispering or covert texting. Becca is close enough to touch, but it’s like she’s far away on a distant planet, speaking a language only Sparklers understand.

  I’ll have to wait till later to talk to her. But I might be able to talk to Leo at lunch. He always sits alone, designing robots on his tablet. I eat with friends from my old neighborhood, Ann Marie and Tori. They’re talkative and obsessed with sports, which is cool because I hear all the gossip about the jocks.

  But I hesitate as I enter the noisy cafeteria, clutching my sack lunch and water bottle to my chest. I stare at the back of the room, where hoop players crowd one end of a long table. At the other end, Leo Polanski sits alone.

  His blond hair falls across his face as he eats a pita sandwich while writing on his tablet. He’s an island of Leo-ness, isolated and unaware that a sea of life swims around him. He doesn’t even realize how alone he is, which makes it worse, and I feel sorry for him.

  So I make a decision.

  Today I’ll sit with Leo.

  He’s my friend, and I don’t care if anyone knows. He shouldn’t be so alone.

  First I stop by the table where I usually sit with Ann Marie and Tori. They’re best friends but sound like worst enemies as they argue over a referee’s call at a soccer game. I tell them I’m going to sit with another friend and they’re cool with it.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I start for Leo’s table.

  I’m halfway there when someone calls my name.

  Turning, I scan the crowd until I spot Becca waving from the Sparkler table. I swivel around to see who she’s waving to—then I realize it’s me. Seriously, what’s she doing? I mean, she’s the one who suggested we pretend not to know each other at school. So why is she calling my name?

  “Kelsey,” she says again, weaving through tables to stand beside me.

  I cover my mouth and whisper, “You’re totally blowing our secret.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with CCSC. Come on. You’ll find out.”

  “But keeping our friendship a secret was your idea.”

  “You sit behind me in science. It’s not weird for me to talk to you.”

  “Well … yeah,” I say, pleased but puzzled.

  “Come with me.” Becca hooks her arm through mine. “Over to my table.”

  I look at her suspiciously. Is this some kind of joke?

  “No joke,” she says as if reading my mind. “I’ve talked with the girls and they want you to join us.”

  “You mean, I can sit with the Sparklers?”

  “Not just sit.” Becca’s grin widens. “The Sparklers need your help.”

  Chapter 3

  Sparkling!

  It’s like one of my dreams turned into real life—the dream where I’m a famous celebrity and the whole world loves me. Fans beg me to take a selfie with them, and every word I say is clever and hilarious. Best of all, in this dream, Becca and I are best friends. I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

  Ouch. Wide-awake.

  I glance regretfully at lonely Leo. I’ll sit with him tomorrow.

  The short walk to the Sparkler table is the longest walk I’ve ever taken. I can’t help but worry that this is a trick and I’ll end up humiliated. It happens in teen movies all the time. But Becca would never be a mean girl.

  Why would the Sparklers want me to hang out with them? I’m so quiet that most kids—sometimes even teachers—don’t remember my name. I’m a T-shirt and jeans girl, not a glittery diva. Sparkly isn’t my style.

  “Here’s Kelsey,” Becca says with a sweeping gesture toward me.

  She introduces the three other girls to me, although I know who they are. They wear identical silver crescent-moon necklaces but are very different. Sophia has short, spiky brown hair, dimples, and three diamond studs in each ear. Model tall and graceful, Tyla wears black braids that are woven with stra
nds of silver that make her silver-gray eyes shine like stars. And Chloe is adorably loud and curvy, with blue hair and big, jeweled glasses that would be dorky on anyone else.

  “You look familiar,” Chloe booms in a voice that cuts through cafeteria noises. She’s the leader of the Sparklers.

  “I sit near you in science.”

  “Oh yeah.” She shrugs, her blue-glitter lashes fluttering. “Don’t you love Ms. Grande? She’s the coolest teacher and so pretty—like a princess from a Disney cartoon with her red, wavy hair down to her waist.”

  “Yeah, she’s cool,” I agree, trying not to laugh because I discovered Ms. Grande’s secret on a blustery day when the wind whipped her hair off her head. Her princess hair is actually a wig.

  Becca squeezes in between Chloe and Sophia, then scoots over to make room for me. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, hugging me.

  But why did you invite me? I wonder as I stare uneasily at the dazzling girls around me. “It’s cool to be with you … but I’m not really the Sparkler type.”

  “Why not?” Becca blinks as if surprised.

  I can think of like a zillion reasons, but Becca is so sincere, I don’t want to disappoint her. So I think of this as a spy lesson, like when Leo escaped handcuffs and Becca pieced together the paper secret. My covert mission is to blend in like a chameleon, to think, talk, and act sparkly.

  Not an easy challenge. To start off with, the other girls have hot food trays. I’m the only brown bagger at the table.

  “Becca didn’t tell us much about you,” Chloe says as she spreads butter thick on her biscuit.

  “Not much to tell.” I open my water bottle and take a sip.

  “She just doesn’t want to brag,” Becca says with a pat on my shoulder. “Kelsey is really smart, loves reading and games, and is great with animals.”

  I shine under Becca’s praise and feel less awkward. “I’m not that smart, but my grades are okay.”

  “Better than okay—like straight As,” Becca says proudly. “It’s because she works really hard at everything.”

  “Except her appearance.” Tyla sweeps a critical look over me and plucks at my green shirt. “Where did you buy this?”

  “I don’t remember. I’ve had it forever,” I say, not wanting to admit it’s a hand-me-down from my sisters.

  “Ignore the fashion snob.” Becca smooths her fingers across her white tiger-striped jacket. “You should hear what Tyla says about my style. You’re amazing the way you are, and you’ll love helping us with our project. Some kids think we’re all about sparkly clothes, but that’s just for fun. We work on fund-raisers for our community and school. Last month, we had a car wash to earn money for the drama club.”

  “Theater rocks,” Sophia pipes up in her cute, little-girl voice.

  “Sophia is an actress,” Chloe adds proudly.

  “I’m in the drama club, and our next play is The Lion King. I’m going to be Nala.”

  “Congratulations!” I say, giving her a high five. “Great role.”

  “But it won’t leave her much time for Sparkler projects.” Chloe leans forward, taking back her role of leader. “In a few weeks, we’re running a booth at the Humane Society Fund-Raiser.”

  “Yeah, Becca says it’ll help lots of homeless animals get adopted.” I think of the dogs, cats, rabbits, goats, and other animals at Wild Oaks Animal Sanctuary. “I want to help out too.”

  “Becca told us you would,” Chloe says. “And we can really use your help. Start by helping us come up with an idea for our booth. Becca says you’re creative, so think of something amazing.”

  Me? I know nothing about creating booths. Still, they’re all looking at me eagerly, so I smile.

  Chloe stabs a chicken strip with her fork. “All the best ideas have been done to death, like a dunking booth, balloon popping, and face painting.”

  “I still think we should do face painting again,” Tyla says with a pout. “It was super popular last year.”

  “Except we lost money because the makeup cost more than what we made.” Chloe gives Tyla an accusing look.

  “Did you want to use crap cosmetics?” Tyla argues.

  I listen with interest, not so much to their words but to their narrowed eyes, pressed lips, and sharp tones. Clearly, all is not rainbows and glitter with the Sparklers.

  While their talk shifts from booth plans to favorite TV shows, I set my brown bag on the table and take out my triple-layered turkey, veggie, and cranberry sauce sandwich on sourdough, and four cinnamon caramel chip cookies.

  “Those cookies smell yummy,” Chloe says, sniffing.

  “My dad’s a whiz in the kitchen,” I say. “He made the cookies.”

  “Can I have one?” Chloe asks.

  “Sure.” I hand her and her friends a cookie each. Dad’s cookies brought me and Becca together, and now they’re helping me win over her friends.

  “Kelsey, you didn’t keep one for yourself,” Becca points out, then splits hers in half and we share.

  Chloe downs her cookie in two bites. “Amazing!” she says, licking her lips. “I wasn’t sure about inviting you to help with the booth project, but you’re cool.”

  “Told you so,” Becca says, slipping her arm around me.

  “You sure did,” Chloe says then turns to me. “We can’t make you a Sparkler, but we can give you something to wear while you’re helping with our project. You’ll have to return it when the fund-raiser is over, but until then, everyone will treat you like you’re one of us.”

  She digs into her backpack and pulls out a tiny silver charm on a necklace, identical to the necklaces each of them is wearing.

  A sparkling star perched on a crescent moon.

  I’m temporarily a Sparkler.

  Chapter 4

  Good-Bye, Zed

  Saturday morning, I wake up with a bad feeling. Today Caleb Hunter comes to take Zed—unless we can stop him. If there’s anything shady about Caleb, we’ll find out. Then it’ll be war—the CCSC against CH.

  When I get to Becca’s two-story white farmhouse trimmed in yellow, her mother tells me she’s gone to the pasture to catch Zed.

  Mrs. Morales is an older version of Becca—same shiny, black curls, only shorter; long, black lashes; and full lips framed by an oval face. She’s smiling as she steps down from the porch, but I notice shadows under her eyes, like she didn’t sleep well.

  “Kelsey, I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, giving me a warm hug. “Becca is going to need friends today.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She really loves Zed.”

  “I do too, but she blames me.” Mrs. Morales shakes her head wearily. “I don’t want Zed to leave either, but legally I have to return him to his owner.”

  “I guess,” I say uneasily.

  “Becca thinks I’m being unfair, but I’m just doing my job. It’s not easy running Wild Oaks alone.” She clutches the stair rail like it’s all that’s holding her up. “I wish Becca could understand that giving up Zed is hard on me too.”

  She looks at me like she’s hoping I’ll say I understand. I glance down at my sneakers. One of the laces is loose, so I bend down to tie it. When I stand up, the awkwardness is gone and Mrs. Morales is smiling again.

  “Becca is in the back pasture.” She points beyond the barn. “You girls have fun.”

  I hurry away, past the barn, to a fenced pasture. Unlatching the livestock gate, I make sure it’s shut firmly behind me. I spot Becca by a bathtub that’s been converted to a water trough. Dust swirls around my sneakers as I cross the pasture. Becca has her back to me as she holds out her hand to Zed, trying to bribe him with oats. But Zed isn’t having any of it.

  “Come on, Zed,” Becca coos. Her other hand dangles a rope behind her back. “You know you want the yummy oats.”

  Zed snorts and stomps a hoof.

  “You’ll have to try harder,” I say.

  “Maybe I’ll let Caleb Hunter catch him,” Becca grumbles. “Zed’s stubborn. He can’t
be forced to do anything—you have to win his trust. It took a month before he’d let me ride him.”

  “It would be cool to ride him,” I say.

  “He likes you, so he might let you on his back. You can try when I catch him.” She flings the lassoed rope toward Zed’s neck, but he jerks away and she misses.

  “If you catch him,” I tease as Zed prances just out of reach.

  “Ornery zorse,” Becca mutters. “Did you know that a zorse is three times stronger than a horse? Last week while I was in school, he broke into the vegetable garden and refused to leave. One of our volunteers, Hank, couldn’t catch Zed. By the time Mom got there to coax Zed out, he’d eaten a bunch of tomatoes and was chomping carrots. It’s impossible for a man to get near him.”

  “Unless it’s the man who used to own him,” I say, then wish I hadn’t when I see the pained look on Becca’s face. “I’m sorry, Becca.”

  “It’s not your fault. I was stupid to get attached.” She tosses her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “I knew his owner might come for him. But as the weeks … months … went by, I started thinking he could stay.”

  “Maybe if Caleb sees how much you love Zed, he’ll let you keep him.”

  Becca grabs more oats and holds out her hand toward the zorse. “Even if he did, Mom wouldn’t agree. She can’t wait to get rid of Zed.”

  “I don’t think that’s how she feels. But at least Zed is going to a loving home. Caleb’s grandma will be so happy to have him back.”

  Becca frowns. “But she may be dying. What happens to Zed when she’s gone?”

  “Caleb will probably take care of him,” I guess.

  “If he really is who he says,” Becca says, trying to bribe Zed with oats. “Come on, boy. Come and get it.”

  “He’s sniffing like he’s interested. You almost have him.” I speak quietly, so I won’t startle Zed. “Another step and you can—”