Here Again

welcome back

Carlington is about the nicest town I've ever been to. (And believe me, I've been to a lot of towns.) It's got a candy shop to die for, an ice cream parlor, a bunch of cute restaurants and stores and things, and the neatest pastel-colored houses, lined up like big juicy ducks in a row.

        Which, to most criminals, is the best kind of town.

        I get out of my mini black Civic, holding my duffel, my baseball cap backwards on my head.

        "Look who's lookin' fine today." Uncle Arty's baritone voice greets me as he and Aunt Ariel come out of their pinkish condo. Uncle Arty puts me in a good-natured headlock; Aunt Ariel hugs me and then scrutinizes the baseball cap. "Where'd that thing come from?"

        "Jacob's closet." My brother has a thing for baseball caps. "In case I have to pretend to be a boy again."

        "A what?" Aunt Ariel sounds like she's never heard the word boy before. "You had to pretend to be a boy?"

        "I cracked the big Harlington case." I ignore Uncle Arty's outstretched hand and keep my own duffel. "There was this big motorcycle gang I had to get into. I pretended to be a boy. They called me Dirtbag."

        "Why?"

        "Because I was always dirty, because my face is kind of feminine--I mean, I am a girl after all--so I had to cover it up. And I had to be fat, too." Darn my waist. "Mom's pillows will never be the same again." I walk into my relatives' house. It's basically the same as it was since last time I came here, which was about a year ago. Fake plant in the corner, a giant replica of the Mona Lisa over the beige sofa, a generally homey feel.

        The Mona Lisa has always creeped me out, though.

        "Your room's the yellow one. We've got somebody else staying in the pink room." Aunt Ariel bites her lip, like she always does when she's nervous. I pretend not to notice. "Who?" I ask, starting up the stairs.

        "A boy." Uncle Arty says, and he's got that warning tone in his voice. "Elaine--"

        "Uncle Arty, relax. I'm not planning on doing anything for a long time." Gosh, sixteen years old and people automatically think you're always on the hunt for someone to make out with. 

        But then, most sixteen-year-olds I know are like that.

        Good thing I'm not.

        "Keep your doors locked, and you get your own bathroom." Aunt Ariel smiles nervously at me through the bars of the stair railing.

        "Aunt Ariel, I'm not even going to be around much. I'll be running around town, chasing bad guys. Okay? Nothing's going to happen. Promise."

        The door to the pink room swings open, and someone pokes his head out. I catch a glimpse of unruly brown hair. "Did somebody just say bad guys?"

        "I did." I raise my hand. "You must be the other boarder in this house."

        "You must be the esteemed niece who's coming to solve this mystery and save all our souls." With the last sarcastic remark, the head disappears back into the room.

        I blow a raspberry. "He's going to be helpful."

        "I heard you," the dude calls.

        "I know." Then I go downstairs for more privacy. The other guy seems like a creeper.

        Once we're all safely in the kitchen, Arty with his coffee, Ariel with her tea, and me with my diluted apple juice, I ask, "Who's he, and what's he doing here?"