by Beth Bowland
Cover
Title Page
Sinclair Summer
Beth Bowland
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An imprint of
Musa Publishing
Copyright Information
Sinclair Summer, Copyright © Beth Bowland, 2012
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
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Musa Publishing
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www.musapublishing.com
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Published by Musa Publishing, December 2012
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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-61937-503-1
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Editor: Susan Sipal
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
Dedication
To all the preteens in the world in search of an adventure.
Chapter 1
FINDING A DEAD MAN lying in the yard next to yours was a rotten way to start the first day of summer vacation. But there he was, face down in the grass, motionless. I stood staring at my new neighbor for a few moments before dropping the recycling bin I’d just retrieved from the curb. I’d raised it high above my chest to make sure it made a nice thud sound, hoping this would make him jump and prove he wasn’t dead.
My plan worked. He turned his face toward me and winked.
I said, “Hey, are you ai’ight? Should I call 9-1-1 or something?”
He smiled and said, “The grass was perfect.”
I abandoned the recycle bin and ran into the house, locked the door, and watched him from the front window. He got up when a rusted black truck, filled with ladders and tools, pulled in front of his house. The driver rolled down his window and leaned his head out. My new neighbor pointed to the side of the house as he spoke, shook the guy’s hand, and went into his house.
I whistled low. Someone very strange had moved into our gated community, Sinclair Estates. This could be interesting, because nothing exciting ever happened in our neighborhood. Although stylish, sometimes it felt like a locked playpen. We had our own swimming pool, tennis and basketball courts, even a community building that had a theater for small concerts and movies.
I looked around the neighborhood, past my mother’s “For Sale” realtor sign in the neighbor’s yard down the street, to see if my friend Chu was out and about yet. Of the seven houses in our cul-de-sac, I had friends in three of them. In the center of the circle stood a huge, three-tiered water fountain. My house was positioned directly in front of it. I also thought it was the prettiest since my mother designed it herself.
After I finished watching the maintenance guy remove his gear from his truck and walk around to the side of the new neighbor’s house, I left the window and headed toward the kitchen. My mother had skipped out earlier this morning for work, but I found my twin sister Kiara sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of cold cereal. Three different boxes sat in front of her, all insanely high in sugar. She insisted on mixing them together.
“Where’ve you been?” Kiara asked. A small drizzle of milk escaped from her mouth and slowly made its way down her chin.
“I saw the new neighbor this morning,” I answered and motioned to the dribble of milk on her chin.
“What’d ya think of them?” she asked as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
“The man was lying face down in the grass when I went to get the recycling bin from the curb.”
Kiara dropped her spoon, and it clamored against the bowl. “What?”
“Yeah, he was facedown on his lawn. I walked over to him and was like, ‘Are you ai’ight?’ ’Cause I totally thought he was dead.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “He just smiled at me and said the grass was perfect. I ran back into the house ’cause he sorta freaked me out a little.”
“’A little’?” Kiara eyes widened. “That’s bananas!”
“Maybe he’s an escapee from an insane asylum.” I wiggled my fingers in front of her face and made a woooo sound.
Kiara frowned as she pushed herself away from the table. “Stop trying to scare me,” she said as she left the room, leaving her bowl on the table.
“Slob,” I yelled after her and put her bowl into the sink.
Kiara and I may be identical twins, but nobody confused us for each other. We both had thick black hair, which Kiara wore pulled back almost every day. My hairstyle changed with the weather. The zit monster had not yet visited our chestnut complexions. I had boobs and she didn’t, which, by the way, she fiercely denied.
“Kat!” Kiara called out from upstairs. “Hurry, look out the front door!”
I ran to the door and flung it open just in time to see Chu flying through the air over the water fountain on his skateboard. Whoa!
“GERONIMO!” he screamed.
Unfortunately, he didn’t quite make it. The rear wheels on the board caught the edge of the fountain on the way down, and Chu went flying headfirst into the street. He landed with a thud.
“Chu!” I yelled as I ran to him. “Are you okay?”
About the same time, his mother ran out of their house toward us shouting to him in Vietnamese.
Chu sat up slowly and looked around as his mother and I helped him to his feet.
His mother lightly tapped him on the cheek. “Say something,” she said as tears filled her eyes.
Chu grinned. “Booyah! I totally rocked that jump.” He threw his hands up in the air and waved them around. He’d worn skinny jeans and an Airwalk T-shirt and brushed his black hair all messy. Dressing for the part, as usual.
His mother grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to their house, fussing the entire way.
Yep, that was typical Chuong Willene, aka Chu. Although he was Vietnamese, he sometimes pretended to be from other cultures. Once, he decided to be Greek for a week and tried to be all philosophical by supposedly quoting Socrates. He was really quoting lines from the movie Sinbad, Legend of the Seven Seas that we’d watched the week before. A certified movie buff, you never knew which character he’d act out. He had a personality that you’d either love or hate, no in-between. Not counting my twin, he was also my best friend.
Before going into his house, he turned to me and gave me the thumbs up. “I’ll be over after I recuperate,” he yelled as he wobbled into his house.
Later that evening, I thought back to the new neighbor. What if he really was an escapee? The thought creeped me out, so I hurried back to look out the front window to make sure he wasn’t trying to break into our house or something weird like that. I scanned the front yard area. The new neighbor was not out there, but there was another pickup truck parked directly behind the rusted black truck from earlier. Several men stood around talking, then walked to the side of the house.
I went into the dining room, peered out the side window, and watched as the men stooped down in front
of the basement windows, quietly and quickly applying a black substance onto each window. The setting sun caused eerie shadows to dance against the siding. I noticed the new neighbor standing near the corner of his house, arms crossed against his chest and staring at nothing. He had a smile on his face that matched the green Grinch before he stole Christmas from the little Whos of Whoville.
Sinclair Lane just got interesting.
“Katrina…”
Kiara was by my bed shaking me by the shoulder. What was she doing in my room? I opened one eye to see what time it was. The clock displayed one thirty and that would be a.m. I sat up in bed.
“What’s wrong? We got a burglar or something?” I jumped out of bed and grabbed my Sponge Bob slippers.
“Kat, what are you doing?” she asked as she sat on my bed.
“I’m looking for something to hit him with.”
Kiara shrugged her shoulders. “Hit who?”
“The burglar!”
Kiara laughed. “There’s no burglar.”
“Then why did you wake me up? Where’s Mom?”
I flopped back down on my bed. Kiara shushed me.
“She’s downstairs sleeping.”
“Kiara, it’s one thirty in the morning. Wassup?”
She took me by the hand and led me to her room. “Look out the window.”
I peeped through her blinds and had a clear shot of the new neighbor’s backyard and the alley behind, which was how everyone accessed their garage.
A man and woman were dressed like surgeons. Both had on scrubs with a rubber apron over the front. They were talking to a man standing near a delivery truck parked in their driveway. I eased up the window so we could hear them talking.
“I wonder what they’re doing,” Kiara said.
I continued watching, and a few moments later, another truck pulled up. Soon the man and the woman gathered behind it. One of the men opened the back of the truck. They reached in and pulled out a very long box: at least six feet long and three across.
“Oh, snappin’ turtles! That’s a coffin!” Kiara shrieked and grabbed me.
“No way.” I couldn’t stop staring at it. I watched them take the box into the house. Kiara was still holding onto me. I pushed her off. “Stop breathing on me.”
“You can take it into the basement with the others,” the woman said.
“Kat, that’s a coffin. I don’t care what you say.”
Kiara sat down on the floor. I pulled myself away from the window and shook my head. “Why would they want a coffin?”
“What does it look like to you?”
I looked at my sister and didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t want to admit it, but it did look like a coffin to me. “He was pretty creepy, but a coffin? I dunno about that,” I answered but had an uneasy feeling in my stomach.
There had to be zoning laws against having a casket business next to regular houses, right? Or even worse, a mortuary. Our homeowners association wouldn’t even allow us to use multi-colored Christmas lights on the house. Their Underoos would for sure get twisted up if they knew someone kept dead people in their house.
Chapter 2
I TOSSED AND TURNED ALL NIGHT, thinking of our neighbors having coffins in their basement. Finally, I heard Mom getting ready for work, so I went downstairs and joined her.
“Good morning, Mom.”
She was sitting at the kitchen table browsing through the newspaper, drinking coffee. Our mother, Haven Hollister, was thirty-nine and fabulous. After our parents divorced, Mom moved us to Atlanta from Chicago and opened Hollister Realty. I think she’d sold most of the homes in the subdivision.
“I’m surprised to see you up this early,” Mom said.
“I didn’t sleep well last night.” I decided to leave out the part about Kiara and me spying on the neighbors.
“Do you feel okay?” Mom reached over and felt my forehead.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just heard you up and thought I’d see you off to work.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
Kiara came shuffling into the kitchen, yawning and scratching her butt. “Hey, Mom.”
“You’re so gross,” I said.
Kiara stopped scratching her butt and rubbed her belly. Mom reached out and hugged her.
“Well, I have both my girls up this morning.” She placed her cup into the sink.
“Mom, did you sell the house next door?” Kiara asked.
“No, I did not. However, I did go over this morning to meet them…a husband and wife, maybe in their late fifties. Their appearance was a little peculiar.” Mom crinkled her nose. “They both had on long rubber gloves that practically went all the way up their arms, and they kept trying to block my view into their house. Which is understandable since their house is probably still messy from moving.”
“What did they say?”
“The man said his name was Saturn Maxwell, and they just moved from California. His wife’s name is Kim.”
“Any kids?”
Mom straightened the cuffs on her blouse and removed her compact from her purse. “No kids,” she said as she checked her makeup in the mirror. “And they were nice enough, but there was something strange about them.”
Now, we were getting to the good stuff.
“What do you mean by strange?”
“Oh, forget I said that. I don’t want to get you girls all stirred up.”
“Too late,” Kiara said.
“Aw, Mom, come on. Tell us.”
Mom leaned against the countertop and crossed her arms. “I could see in their house and there were a lot of books—and I mean a lot of books. Lots of papers scattered on the floor, plus there were large charts with math calculations scribbled on them taped up on the walls. Sort of a strange look for the living room.”
“Interesting,” I said.
Mom nibbled on her bottom lip. “But I think it was the odd manure smell coming from them that really piqued my interest. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it to you girls.”
“Did you tell her about the coffin?” Kiara whispered.
I shook my head no. Mom grabbed her briefcase and tossed it over her shoulder.
“Okay, girls, have fun today. Stay in the subdivision.”
She gave us both kisses and waved to us as she went out the door. I went into the kitchen and started getting stuff together for an omelet. Kiara reached for the remote control, and out of nowhere, she screamed.
It was Chu at the patio door with his nose pressed against the glass. I think. This person sorta looked like him, but different. I slid open the door for him. Chu danced his way into the house doing something that looked to be a cross between hula and break dancing movements.
“Would it hurt you to knock instead of scaring me half to death all the time?” shrieked Kiara.
Chu never knocked—he just stood at the door looking in until someone noticed him. I thought it was hilarious, but Mom and Kiara were always getting on him about it. I couldn’t believe what he’d done.
“What’s crackin’, Cool Breeze?” He crossed his arms across his chest and struck a hip-hop pose.
“Chu, what the heck did you do to your hair?”
It was all twisted up in dreadlocks, partially covered with a red, yellow, and green Rastafarian hat. His eyes were covered in small, gold-rimmed dark sunglasses.
“Yeh, mon,” Chu said. “Ebbry ting is cool.”
Kiara laughed so hard, she started choking on her sugar crispies.
I walked over to him and touched his hair. Whatever he put in it had made it stiff and sticky. I gasped.
“Chu, tell me you didn’t.”
“What? I’m a Jamaican. One love, mon.”
He had the most serious look on his face.
“Chu, why does your hair smell like maple syrup?”
Kiara was now on the floor, laughing.
He reached up, touched his hair, and grinned. “Yo, I needed something to make it stick together.”
Kiara tried to pull herself together. “I—” snort “—can’t believe—” snort, snort “—you…put maple syrup—” snort “—in your hair—” squeal, snort.
“You’re crazy!” I laughed at him. “What are you going to do over summer vacation?” I asked.
“Aw, I think this summer will suck rotten eggs.” Chu ran his fingers through his scruffy, sticky dreads. “We’re not going anywhere cuz Stepdad lost his job, so we’re basically poor now.”
“Bummer. Hope he finds a new job soon,” I said.
Chu shook his head. “He’s not looking for a new job. He says he’s tired, so he stays home all day eating and watching the soap opera channel. Mom is still working though, so it’s all good in the hood.”
“You can come over and hang out with Kia and me.”
“Cool. I’m going back now, mon. I have to wash this stuff out, quickly like. On the way over, the bees they sting my hair, mon.”
“Yeah, and then we can meet up at the swimming pool,” I said.
“Will do, mon,” Chu said as he pop-locked freestyled his way out the door.
It’d been four years since Chu and his family moved in next door to us. He said he was poor since his stepdad lost his job, but that was far from the truth. I saw his mother, a pediatrician, pull up in a brand-new Lexus just the other day. Mr. Willene, who was white, married Chu’s mother when Chu was a toddler. Before Mr. Willene lost his job, he was the CEO for a large software company.
I continued mixing everything together for my omelet. I don’t think it was two minutes later before Chu was back at the door. His face was pale. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. I hurried out on the patio to him. He seemed scared and was breathing heavily.
“Aliens!” He panted. “Come on.”
Kiara and I followed him to the side of his house, then stopped in our tracks. Three gigantic mushrooms sat in his yard. These things were three feet tall and just as wide.
“Oh man, I’ve never seen a mushroom that big. Where’d they come from?” Kiara asked, standing behind me.
“Aliens,” he said again.
