Praise for Saltwater Secrets
“Saltwater Secrets is a whirlwind of mystery, friendship, and heart. It’s the perfect summer read that will leave readers feeling empowered!”
—OLIVIA SANABIA, actress and singer (Just Add Magic and Coop & Cami Ask the World)
“Cindy Callaghan effortlessly captures the perfect teenage summer in Saltwater Secrets.”
—ABBY DONNELLY, actress (Just Add Magic and Malibu Rescue)
“I absolutely loved this book.… It took me right to a fourteen-year-old’s summer!! I couldn’t put it down.”
—BRADY REITER, actress (100 Things to Do Before High School, Tooth Fairy 2, and Just Add Magic)
“Saltwater Secrets is a fast-paced tween mystery, great for a day at the beach.”
—ELISE ALLEN, author of Twinchantment and coauthor of the series Gabby Duran and the Unsittables
“If you’re a fan of Just Add Magic, you’ll love Saltwater Secrets. Another great story filled with mystery and charm! I loved it!”
—AUBREY K. MILLER, actress, dancer, and singer (Just Add Magic)
For Joan Callaghan,
whose family beach vacations
shaped a generation
Prologue Josie, Age 9
Beach—Whalehead, New Jersey
The Minotaur Coaster was a new addition to my favorite place on earth: Murphy’s Pier in Whalehead, New Jersey.
Every summer I found this place exactly the way it was when I left: the ocean, the boardwalk, and my and Stella’s special secret hiding place under the boardwalk.
But what I liked most of all was being with my sister, Stella. Well, she’s technically my half sister, and she’s my best friend. Since we live so far apart, and I can only see her during the summers, we spend every waking minute of the summer together.
We sat on the sandbar, our legs floating in the salt water. From out there, I could either face the New Jersey coastline, the boardwalk, and all of its wild excitement, or I could look out at the vast ocean and imagine that this water touched the coastline of my home, Australia.
A speedboat zoomed by, towing tandem parasailers in flight, a flock of white seabirds behind them. The parasailers waved down to me and Stella while we stacked fistfuls of wet sand on each other’s shoulders.
“Ready for the fun house?” I asked her.
Stella yelled to Dad, who sat at the water’s edge under a beach umbrella. “Dad, can we go to the fun house?”
He hollered back, “As long as you get yourselves water ice, too.”
We trudged our way back to the beach.
Dad pulled out money, then turned his chair to face the boardwalk. “I’ll watch you from here.”
“Want one?”
“Nah.” He patted his round belly. “I’ll just have some of yours.” He gave us each a hug and kissed the tops of our heads.
Stella broke away first and dashed toward the boardwalk. When she was a safe distance, she turned, giggled, and said in her New York accent, “What are you tawkin’ about? I’m not sharing!”
Dad chased her. “Oh yes you are.” When he caught her, they both toppled into the sand, laughing.
I pounced onto his back. “Let my sista go!” My accent was so different from Stella’s, but we understood each other perfectly.
“You win. You win,” Dad said. “But, for the record two against one isn’t fair.”
We hopped on the hot sand until we got to the boardwalk. We waved to our shore friend, Dario, who bobbed up and down on a big horse on the merry-go-round. After waiting for the oncoming traffic of surf bikes to pass, we finally got into the fun house line.
“Do you have it?” I asked Stella.
She held up the plastic tail from our kite. It had broken off last night, and I wanted to save it to remember what a great night it was. We had a special secret place where we stashed these kinds of treasures.
We entered Kevin’s Fun House, zipped to the bright, shiny hall of mirrors, and paused to laugh at our ultrashort, ultratall, or ultraround selves. Then we giggled our way through foam pillars—a tight fit—and scaled the rope bridge, finally racing to the barrel that marked the loose floorboards. We waited for a crowd of toddlers to pass, and I quickly slid the barrel aside; Stella stomped on the end of the loose boards, popping them up to create enough room for us to jump to the sand below. I pulled the rope we’d tied to the underside of the boards, and the trapdoor slammed shut above us.
This was our hiding place under the boardwalk. I walked to our rock that marked the spot where we’d buried a box—not just any box. It held our special treasures. I dug it up, opened it, and added the kite tail to the gum wrapper, shell, Matchbox car, marble, Barbie, midway game tickets, and other items that represented our many summer adventures—mine and Stella’s.
A few minutes later we were plopped on the edge of the boardwalk, Water Ice World paper cones in our hands, watching the bustle of vacationers who smelled like coconut sunscreen and sweat. Our feet swung over the sand below, and even though we licked, dripped water ice went onto our chins and arms.
I asked, “Stella?”
“Yeah? What?” Stella wiped red water-ice juice off her face with her sleeve.
“I love it here,” I said.
“Me too.”
“Can we do this forever? Exactly this same exact thing every single summer? Just like this. It’s perfect, and I don’t want it to ever change.”
“Sure, Josie. Nothing’s gonna change.”
* * *
But, like all perfect things, it did.
Part One Four Years Later
One Stella
603 Whalehead Street
June 18
The music on the car radio broke:
“Murielle duPluie here with the Whalehead news from the Jersey Shore. Welcome to the summer. It’s gonna be a hot one today. Stay tuned to WLEO all season for the latest happenings.”
My mom stopped in front of 603 Whalehead Street. “Listen, Stell,” she said. “Stay out of trouble, okay? If you get a third strike… Well, you know.”
“I got it, Mom.”
She leaned over and kissed me. “Have a great summer. Say hi to Josie for me, and cawl me.” Mom sounds like me—a total New Yorker. “And text me every single solitary day. And send lots of pictures.” She sighed and put her hand on her heart. “Ugh, I miss you already.” She kissed me again and drove away without saying hello to her first husband, my dad, Gary Higley.
I barely got up the gravel driveway before my sister, Josie, ran out of the house.
“Stellaaaa! You’re finally here!”
As soon as I saw Josie, I knew things were going to be different this summer.
Well, Josie herself wasn’t different. She seemed exactly the same as last summer, and the one before, and the one before that, right down to the Whalehead T-shirt and gray gym shorts.
That was the problem.
I’d expected the ready-to-enter-high-school version of Josie. After all, I’d become the ready-to-enter-high-school version of me, partly thanks to some new friends who turned out to not really be friends and caused me to get in trouble. Twice.
Well, I guess it wasn’t all their fault. Anyway, I couldn’t get in trouble this summer, which wouldn’t be any problem, because I’d be with Josie, and she never did anything bad.
“G’day, Stella!” Josie hugged me and bounced up and down. “Put your stuff away so we can hit the boardwalk. I’m dying for water ice.” With her accent, “ice” sounds like “oyce.” When we were kids, and Josie wasn’t around, I’d imitate her and tell people I was Australian. “I can’t get it at home, you know?”
I hugged her back. “Get outta here. I’m sure they have water ice somewhere—it’s a big country.”
“Oh, it’s not the same,” Josie said, and trailed behind me as she wheeled my suitcase into the house. “Whose shorts are those?”
I looked down at my cutoffs. “They’re mine. You like them?”
She poked at the skin that was just at the frayed hemline of my shorts. “They are definitely… cheeky!”
“It’s supposed to be that way.” I’d worn these shorts a hundred times and never felt self-conscious before, but now I wondered if my butt really did show too much.
Dad met us in the living room. “Stella! Where have you been? We’ve been waiting and waiting.” He smooshed my face into his chest. I saw Dad pretty much every other weekend, except when I had activities in the city that I didn’t want to miss, but he always acted like it’d been forever.
“Mom stopped to pee like ten times.”
He grabbed Josie, too, and squeezed the three of us together. “My girls!” He let us go so that he could study us. “So grown-up, but you still look like you could be twins.” It was an old joke, because we don’t look anything alike; we’re both clones of our mothers: Josie is blond and blue eyed, and I’m brown hair and eyes and always tan.
I punched his chest. “You’re still working out. Did you show Josie?”
He flexed his arms. “Check out these puppies.” His arms weren’t quite “puppies.” “I’m no-carbing this summer, gonna get ripped.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I looked at the tackle box by the front door. “Gonna get ripped while you’re fishing?”
“I work out in the morning and fish in the afternoon. At night, I’m gonna try the dating thing. My friend Jay—he’s the one that’s the detective—is setting it up.”
Josie slapped her hands over her ears. “Ugh. I’m not listening to you talk about dating, Dad.”
I actually thought it was a good idea. “Looking for Mrs. Higley number three?”
“Only if she’s looking for me.” He winked and glanced at his watch. “I wish you’d gotten here earlier, Stell. Sorry, but I gotta run. Jay’s waiting at the dock for me. He’s taking me out on his boat, and I’m holding him up.”
“That’s okay. We can hang out later,” I said.
“Not just later. A lot. I have big plans for us to do tons of stuff together.” He picked up his tackle box and opened the door. “I’ll make us dinner—prepare yourself for my famous steamed broccoli.”
I caught a look from Josie, and I knew she wanted me to say something. “We might get pizza.”
“Yeah,” Josie agreed. “I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. I can’t get good pizza in Australia.”
“Okay,” he said. “But after that, we’re starting game one of a Monopoly tournament, so don’t make other plans.”
“For sure,” she said, then added, “I love Monopoly.”
I was less enthusiastic. I’d hoped to graduate from board games to bonfires on the beach with cute lifeguards and new friends.
Dad grabbed his fishing pole, and, just before shutting the door behind him, he said, “Same deal as always. Text me at nine, twelve, and three o’clock, and be home by six for dinner.”
“Yup,” we said together.
“Got it, Stell?”
“I got it.”
He closed the door.
“What was that about?” Josie asked about the extra “Got it, Stell?”
I shrugged. “Oh, nothing. He worries, you know.”
So, about my dad. He’s been married twice. First to my mom, Montana—they got divorced before she knew she was pregnant with me. As soon as they separated, he met Kate. It was love at first sight. They got married after just a few dates, moved to Australia to be close to Kate’s family, and had Josie, only four months after I was born. Turned out that Gary Higley’s dream of love at first sight fizzled in the outback. Dad returned to New Jersey. Now one daughter (me) lives in New York City with my mom and my stepdad, while his other daughter (Josie) is in Sydney with her mom and her stepdad. The three of us are together for only eight weeks each summer.
I was glad Dad was interested in dating again. He deserved to be happy, but I didn’t love the idea of him getting remarried. I mean, I had to share Mom, and I didn’t want to share him, too.
“So, what’s up, Jo?” I asked. “Get me caught up on your life.”
There was no answer, because she wasn’t there. I looked around. Neither was my suitcase.
“Josie?”
She popped her head out of the bedroom we shared. “Putting your stuff in here so summer can begin. You can unpack later, yeah?”
“Sure,” I said. “I just need to look at the ocean to feel like I’m really here.” I walked onto the back porch that overlooked the Atlantic. I loved the smell of salt in the air and the sound of the rolling waves. It was the complete opposite of the concrete and traffic of home.
My dad had inherited this house from his parents and carried on the tradition of spending summers here. It’s perfect that he’s a teacher, so we can come down here.
If not for these weeks at the shore, Josie and I would hardly ever see each other. After all, she lives literally on the other side of the world.
This tradition was so important to both of us that once we got cell phones, we made a pact: Except for moms, we wouldn’t contact our non-summer worlds while we were in Whalehead. It was hard for me not to call Pete, my best friend and crush forever, but I’d done it. This year it wouldn’t be hard at all.
“Ready for water ice?” she asked.
“Have I ever not wanted water ice?” It was our tradition to kick off the summer witha trip to Water Ice World. There was no reason that this year’s trip would be any different.
Two Stella
Police Station
June 25
The detective stands by the door of an interview room and says to my dad, “Gary, I’ll be happy to listen before any sort of official questioning begins, and it probably will, from what I understand. You can join us in here.”
“What about a lawyer?” Dad asks Detective Santoro.
“Always a good idea. I can give you some names, and you can make calls while I talk to her, if you want.”
“Nah, that’s all right,” Dad says. “I know who to call.”
“Are you sure you wanna call him?” the detective asks.
Dad is referring to my stepdad, Gregory—not Greg. He’s nice enough, I guess. Just weird about his name, and he kind of changed my world—which had been perfectly fine—when he entered it.
“Yeah.” Dad sighs. “I’m sure.” Then Dad adds, “And, Jay, thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. And you know, I can’t pull any strings or anything.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just want you to listen to the whole story and tell me what you think.”
“Yup,” the detective says. “Can do.”
Dad looks at me. “Just tell Detective Santoro what happened. I’ll be right out here. You just give me the signal if you need me.”
I nod with a half smile, because our traditional “signal” is for me to tuck my hands under my armpits and flap like chicken wings.
Santoro closes the door. It’s incredibly quiet in here. He waves me to a chair.
“Comfortable?” he asks me.
“Sure,” I say, but actually I’m cold under the air-conditioning vent, and the room is anything but comforting—dull white walls without so much as a clock, dirty laminated floor on which there might be dots of blood.
Santoro sits across the metal table from me. The table is distressed with scratches and dents.
He indicates a mirror. “You can’t see or hear your dad, but he can see and hear you.”
“Okay.” I have nothing to hide. I mean, everything we did was for the right reason. He’ll understand once he hears the whole story.
“I may take some notes, but they’re just for me.”
I nod.
“What’s your name?”
“Stella Higley.” Because I’m from New York, sometimes
it sounds like I’m saying “Stellar,” but I deliberately leave the r sound off.
“Right. I remember. The other one is the Aussie.”
“Yeah, Josie.” Then I ask, “Hey, any word from the hospital?”
“Not yet.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
“From what I understand, you did what you could,” he says.
I nod.
Santoro says, “We can stop anytime you want, and of course, you know you’re free to leave anytime you want.” The tone of his voice doesn’t sound like he means that, but he probably uses that voice all day with criminals and doesn’t know how to change it.
“Yeah.”
“Start from the beginning, when you first arrived in Whalehead this summer.”
I say to the detective, “We set out for the boardwalk, but Josie didn’t change from her T-shirt and gym shorts.”
He replies, “Thanks for the wardrobe details, but that’s not relevant.”
“It is, though,” I explain. “Because it bothered me. It shouldn’t have, but it did.”
“Her outfit bothered you?”
“It really did,” I confirm. “It told me she was still eighth-grade Josie, and, I mean, I was nearly-high-school Stella. Another season of riding the Minotaur Coaster wasn’t gonna cut it for me.”
Santoro studies me, then asks, “So, what are you saying? You were too cool for her?”
“Whoa, I didn’t say that.” I think for a hot sec. “Well, maybe.” I don’t like the idea of someone thinking that I think that I’m too cool for Josie. “Except that saying it that way sounds terrible. It makes me sound mean or something, and I’m not.”
His face remains flat. I don’t know if that’s just his face, like he doesn’t have other expressions, or if he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m really not,” I assure him. “I love Josie. I just wanted different things this summer. Is that so bad?”
“Look, Stella, I’m sorry you and your half sister had some tension, but that’s not relevant to this very serious situation.”
Saltwater Secrets Page 1