SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

what she was talking about. My childhood memories of the ancient place were clear enough. “What about it?” I said, trying to hide my apprehension.
    “Something in Mom’s diary makes me think that maybe, just maybe, we might find something important back there in the woods.”
    “Something important? Like what?” A creepy shiver crept down my spine.
    Chelsea turned, heading toward the arbor gate. “Are you coming or not?” Her eyes dared me.
    “Look, if we’re gonna do some real sleuthing, I oughta have my camera, don’t you think?” The thought had literally popped into my head—a clever way to postpone the inevitable moment, perhaps. I kept talking. “That way if we do discover something, we’ll have proof to show the police or a private investigator.”
    Chelsea stared at me like I was wacko. “Who said anything about cops? And a private eye—hey, they cost big bucks. Right now, according to my dad, we’re broke.”
    I refused to back down. I wanted a camera—now. “Still, I think it would be smart to take pictures.”
    We stood under the giant ash, its purple leaves covering us, having our first major standoff. After a few more desperate pleas, Chelsea came to her senses. Maybe she realized I wasn’t going to budge. Best of all, she didn’t appear to have sensed my uneasiness.
    “Why don’t you ride my bike down to your house?” she offered, going around to the overhang under the back porch. Her bike was in perfect shape, as though she never, ever rode it.
    “You sure?” I asked, noting the fancy leather seat and other expensive touches.
    “Go ahead.” She parked her books on the patio table nearby before helping secure my schoolbag on the bike.
    “Thanks. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” I called to her as I pushed off and headed for the driveway.
    The distance to my house was all downhill. Coming back, I’d have to pedal hard to make it.

    Mom was cooking something wonderful when I dashed into the house and through the kitchen. “Mm-m, smells great!” I said. “Special dinner for Skip?”
    “He should be home soon,” she called up the back steps. “What’s your hurry?”
    “I came home to get my camera,” I said. “Never know when I’ll stumble onto a glorious shot.”
    Mom didn’t respond. Either she hadn’t heard, or she was already lost in her culinary dreams and schemes. Skip was her one and only son. Naturally, she’d want to knock herself out to make his first homecoming extra-special.
    Upstairs, I deposited my schoolbag on the bed. Then I filled my camera pouch with film and both my 35-millimeter camera and the smaller digital one. I wanted to be fully prepared. No stones left unturned and all that detective-sounding stuff.
    Mom’s eyebrows arched when I rushed through the kitchen again, telling her I’d see her later. “Chelsea’s expecting me back at her house. We’re doing some investigating, I guess you could say.”
    “Nothing too serious, I hope.”
    She had me. “Well, maybe. But I won’t be long. ’Bye!”
    Mom called after me, “Be careful.”
    “I will,” I shouted back. “I promise.”
    “And be back in time for supper!”
    “Okay, Mom.”
    I made a run for it on the steep hill, but eventually slowed to a steady pumping. My latest mystery— our latest mystery—could possibly be wrapped up and solved in one afternoon. That is if Chelsea and I were brave enough to go where the solid leads might be lurking.
    I should’ve been jumping for joy about the prospect of finding Chelsea’s mom, but something about the mission made my mouth go dry. It was the old shack. The eerie place out there on the edge of the dark forest.
    I licked my lips as I pedaled for all I was worth. If only we didn’t have to deal with the mysterious woods and that hut.
    The feverish dryness in my mouth persisted even after I arrived back at Chelsea’s house and gulped down a full glass of water in her kitchen.
    I gazed through the window at the trees beyond the rickety