Over the Moon

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Over the Moon Page 19

by Natalie Lloyd

I’ll use the loot

  For something great!

  Oh Conductor,

  At your pleasure,

  Take me to your wondrous treasure!”

  “Why’d you sing?” I asked.

  Peri tugged on his beard. “According to legend, that’s what you need to do to summon the ghost. Turns out to be true because he sang back. It went like this.”

  Uncle Peri clapped his hands against his pants. And he shuffled down the path toward the cafe in rhythm to his song:

  “Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow

  By the shadows of the ridge

  Down a path no man can follow

  Lies a treasure someone hid.”

  I scribbled Peri’s song down on the back of the guest registry. That’d make a great detail for a future tour.

  “That’s the whole song?” Waverly asked.

  “That’s the only part I remember,” Uncle Peri said. “We were so scared we ran screaming out of the graveyard and didn’t even try to solve the riddle. People claim they hear all sorts of things, of course. But I heard that song with my own ears.”

  A purple stripe of lightning branded the skies over the faraway mountains, followed by a sharp clap of thunder.

  Periwinkle held the gate open for us. “People have lost their minds trying to find that treasure,” he said. “They thought if they could just find the treasure, they’d be set for life. No more hardship then. No more worries. Just the hope of gold makes a man do crazy things.”

  “Any kind of hope makes people do crazy things,” Greta said. “Hope of riches. Hope of love. Hope of goodness.”

  “Hope of hot chocolate.” Peri sniffed the air. “It’s fitting Blue stirs her brew so close to this graveyard. Because I’m convinced heaven will smell like hot cocoa.”

  Only Waverly Valentine stayed at the gate. She stared out over the cemetery, arms wrapped tight around her chest. My heart clinched at the sad pull of her mouth.

  “You should come inside, too,” I told her. “Get a mug of Boneyard Brew and some breakfast. Wait out the storm. We have peach-lavender muffins this morning.”

  “Peach-lavender?” she breathed. She shook her head, disbelieving. “Those are my favorite muffins. I didn’t know anybody else in the world made peach-lavender muffins except … a friend of mine. A friend I used to have.”

  I grinned. “No offense to your friend, but I’m certain these muffins will be the best you’ve ever had.”

  “Thanks, but I need to keep moving. You can’t fight destiny.” She walked away, hands clutched around her backpack straps.

  I shivered all over. Even the trees seemed to shiver as the storm wind blew around us.

  Destiny. That’s a touchy subject in my family. I should tell you why.

  It all started with a strange old book.

  Copyright © 2019 by Natalie Lloyd

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, April 2019

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-11850-6

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

 

 

 


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