The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask (3 page)

“You mean, I can sit with the Sparklers?”

“Not just sit.” Becca's grin widens. “The Sparklers need your help.”

Chapter 3

Sparkling!

It's like one of my dreams turned into real life—the dream where I'm a famous celebrity and the whole world loves me. Fans beg me to take a selfie with them, and every word I say is clever and hilarious. Best of all, in this dream, Becca and I are best friends. I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming.

Ouch. Wide-awake.

I glance regretfully at lonely Leo. I'll sit with him tomorrow.

The short walk to the Sparkler table is the longest walk I've ever taken. I can't help but worry that this is a trick and I'll end up humiliated. It happens in teen movies all the time. But Becca would never be a mean girl.

Why would the Sparklers want me to hang out with them? I'm so quiet that most kids—sometimes even teachers—don't remember my name. I'm a T-shirt and jeans girl, not a glittery diva. Sparkly isn't my style.

“Here's Kelsey,” Becca says with a sweeping gesture toward me.

She introduces the three other girls to me, although I know who they are. They wear identical silver crescent-moon necklaces but are very different. Sophia has short, spiky brown hair, dimples, and three diamond studs in each ear. Model tall and graceful, Tyla wears black braids that are woven with strands of silver that make her silver-gray eyes shine like stars. And Chloe is adorably loud and curvy, with blue hair and big, jeweled glasses that would be dorky on anyone else.

“You look familiar,” Chloe booms in a voice that cuts through cafeteria noises. She's the leader of the Sparklers.

“I sit near you in science.”

“Oh yeah.” She shrugs, her blue-glitter lashes fluttering. “Don't you love Ms. Grande? She's the coolest teacher and so pretty—like a princess from a Disney cartoon with her red, wavy hair down to her waist.”

“Yeah, she's cool,” I agree, trying not to laugh because I discovered Ms. Grande's secret on a blustery day when the wind whipped her hair off her head. Her princess hair is actually a wig.

Becca squeezes in between Chloe and Sophia, then scoots over to make room for me. “I'm so glad you're here,” she says, hugging me.

But why did you invite me?
I wonder as I stare uneasily at the dazzling girls around me. “It's cool to be with you … but I'm not really the Sparkler type.”

“Why not?” Becca blinks as if surprised.

I can think of like a zillion reasons, but Becca is so sincere, I don't want to disappoint her. So I think of this as a spy lesson, like when Leo escaped handcuffs and Becca pieced together the paper secret. My covert mission is to blend in like a chameleon, to think, talk, and act sparkly.

Not an easy challenge. To start off with, the other girls have hot food trays. I'm the only brown bagger at the table.

“Becca didn't tell us much about you,” Chloe says as she spreads butter thick on her biscuit.

“Not much to tell.” I open my water bottle and take a sip.

“She just doesn't want to brag,” Becca says with a pat on my shoulder. “Kelsey is really smart, loves reading and games, and is great with animals.”

I shine under Becca's praise and feel less awkward. “I'm not
that
smart, but my grades are okay.”

“Better than okay—like straight
A
s,” Becca says proudly. “It's because she works really hard at everything.”

“Except her appearance.” Tyla sweeps a critical look over me and plucks at my green shirt. “Where did you buy this?”

“I don't remember. I've had it forever,” I say, not wanting to admit it's a hand-me-down from my sisters.

“Ignore the fashion snob.” Becca smooths her fingers across her white tiger-striped jacket. “You should hear what Tyla says about my style. You're amazing the way you are, and you'll love helping us with our project. Some kids think we're all about sparkly clothes, but that's just for fun. We work on fund-raisers for our community and school. Last month, we had a car wash to earn money for the drama club.”

“Theater rocks,” Sophia pipes up in her cute, little-girl voice.

“Sophia is an actress,” Chloe adds proudly.

“I'm in the drama club, and our next play is
The Lion King.
I'm going to be Nala.”

“Congratulations!” I say, giving her a high five. “Great role.”

“But it won't leave her much time for Sparkler projects.” Chloe leans forward, taking back her role of leader. “In a few weeks, we're running a booth at the Humane Society Fund-Raiser.”

“Yeah, Becca says it'll help lots of homeless animals get adopted.” I think of the dogs, cats, rabbits, goats, and other animals at Wild Oaks Animal Sanctuary. “I want to help out too.”

“Becca told us you would,” Chloe says. “And we can really use your help. Start by helping us come up with an idea for our booth. Becca says you're creative, so think of something amazing.”

Me? I know nothing about creating booths. Still, they're all looking at me eagerly, so I smile.

Chloe stabs a chicken strip with her fork. “All the best ideas have been done to death, like a dunking booth, balloon popping, and face painting.”

“I still think we should do face painting again,” Tyla says with a pout. “It was super popular last year.”

“Except we lost money because the makeup cost more than what we made.” Chloe gives Tyla an accusing look.

“Did you want to use crap cosmetics?” Tyla argues.

I listen with interest, not so much to their words but to their narrowed eyes, pressed lips, and sharp tones. Clearly, all is not rainbows and glitter with the Sparklers.

While their talk shifts from booth plans to favorite TV shows, I set my brown bag on the table and take out my triple-layered turkey, veggie, and cranberry sauce sandwich on sourdough, and four cinnamon caramel chip cookies.

“Those cookies smell yummy,” Chloe says, sniffing.

“My dad's a whiz in the kitchen,” I say. “He made the cookies.”

“Can I have one?” Chloe asks.

“Sure.” I hand her and her friends a cookie each. Dad's cookies brought me and Becca together, and now they're helping me win over her friends.

“Kelsey, you didn't keep one for yourself,” Becca points out, then splits hers in half and we share.

Chloe downs her cookie in two bites. “Amazing!” she says, licking her lips. “I wasn't sure about inviting you to help with the booth project, but you're cool.”

“Told you so,” Becca says, slipping her arm around me.

“You sure did,” Chloe says then turns to me. “We can't make you a Sparkler, but we can give you something to wear while you're helping with our project. You'll have to return it when the fund-raiser is over, but until then, everyone will treat you like you're one of us.”

She digs into her backpack and pulls out a tiny silver charm on a necklace, identical to the necklaces each of them is wearing.

A sparkling star perched on a crescent moon.

I'm temporarily a Sparkler.

Chapter 4

Good-Bye, Zed

Saturday morning, I wake up with a bad feeling. Today Caleb Hunter comes to take Zed—unless we can stop him. If there's anything shady about Caleb, we'll find out. Then it'll be war—the CCSC against CH.

When I get to Becca's two-story white farmhouse trimmed in yellow, her mother tells me she's gone to the pasture to catch Zed.

Mrs. Morales is an older version of Becca—same shiny, black curls, only shorter; long, black lashes; and full lips framed by an oval face. She's smiling as she steps down from the porch, but I notice shadows under her eyes, like she didn't sleep well.

“Kelsey, I'm so glad you're here,” she says, giving me a warm hug. “Becca is going to need friends today.”

“Yeah,” I say. “She really loves Zed.”

“I do too, but she blames me.” Mrs. Morales shakes her head wearily. “I don't want Zed to leave either, but legally I have to return him to his owner.”

“I guess,” I say uneasily.

“Becca thinks I'm being unfair, but I'm just doing my job. It's not easy running Wild Oaks alone.” She clutches the stair rail like it's all that's holding her up. “I wish Becca could understand that giving up Zed is hard on me too.”

She looks at me like she's hoping I'll say I understand. I glance down at my sneakers. One of the laces is loose, so I bend down to tie it. When I stand up, the awkwardness is gone and Mrs. Morales is smiling again.

“Becca is in the back pasture.” She points beyond the barn. “You girls have fun.”

I hurry away, past the barn, to a fenced pasture. Unlatching the livestock gate, I make sure it's shut firmly behind me. I spot Becca by a bathtub that's been converted to a water trough. Dust swirls around my sneakers as I cross the pasture. Becca has her back to me as she holds out her hand to Zed, trying to bribe him with oats. But Zed isn't having any of it.

“Come on, Zed,” Becca coos. Her other hand dangles a rope behind her back. “You know you want the yummy oats.”

Zed snorts and stomps a hoof.

“You'll have to try harder,” I say.

“Maybe I'll let Caleb Hunter catch him,” Becca grumbles. “Zed's stubborn. He can't be forced to do anything—you have to win his trust. It took a month before he'd let me ride him.”

“It would be cool to ride him,” I say.

“He likes you, so he might let you on his back. You can try when I catch him.” She flings the lassoed rope toward Zed's neck, but he jerks away and she misses.

“If you catch him,” I tease as Zed prances just out of reach.

“Ornery zorse,” Becca mutters. “Did you know that a zorse is three times stronger than a horse? Last week while I was in school, he broke into the vegetable garden and refused to leave. One of our volunteers, Hank, couldn't catch Zed. By the time Mom got there to coax Zed out, he'd eaten a bunch of tomatoes and was chomping carrots. It's impossible for a man to get near him.”

“Unless it's the man who used to own him,” I say, then wish I hadn't when I see the pained look on Becca's face. “I'm sorry, Becca.”

“It's not your fault. I was stupid to get attached.” She tosses her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “I knew his owner might come for him. But as the weeks … months … went by, I started thinking he could stay.”

“Maybe if Caleb sees how much you love Zed, he'll let you keep him.”

Becca grabs more oats and holds out her hand toward the zorse. “Even if he did, Mom wouldn't agree. She can't wait to get rid of Zed.”

“I don't think that's how she feels. But at least Zed is going to a loving home. Caleb's grandma will be so happy to have him back.”

Becca frowns. “But she may be dying. What happens to Zed when she's gone?”

“Caleb will probably take care of him,” I guess.

“If he really is who he says,” Becca says, trying to bribe Zed with oats. “Come on, boy. Come and get it.”

“He's sniffing like he's interested. You almost have him.” I speak quietly, so I won't startle Zed. “Another step and you can—”

Zed rears back with a toss of his black mane, flashing big teeth like he's grinning.

“Get over here, you stubborn brat!” Becca snaps.

“It's like he understands what's going on,” I say.

“Oh, he does. Animals can read body language and sense moods. Zed usually comes right up to me.” Her voice cracks. “I don't want him to leave.” Oats spill from her fingers as she drops the lead rope and sinks to the ground. She covers her face with her hands.

I squat down and slip my arm around her shoulder. Hooves thump as Zed clomps over to us. He nuzzles Becca's neck. She reaches up and folds her arms around his dark mane.

Hugging Zed, she whispers to me, “Kelsey, get the rope.”