Saltwater Secrets - Cindy Callaghan Page 0,4

Nice. The apartment feels different with him in it. It’s like there’s always a guest around. My mom and I never just lie around in jammies anymore, you know?” I asked. “But sometimes it’s good, like when he makes pancakes or drives me places.”

“Change is hard, at least for me. Maybe he won’t feel like a guest after a while.” That was easy for her to say. Her mom, Kate, got remarried when Josie was a baby, so she’s only known life with her stepdad in the house. Plus he’s a surfer, which is very cool.

“Maybe,” I said. What I didn’t say out loud was that I liked it better when it was just me and Mom. And I felt guilty that I felt that way, because why shouldn’t she be able to get remarried? I was just about to change the convo and ask Josie if she had a boyfriend, and maybe tell her about Pete, when the sight of Water Ice World made us freeze.

It was gone.

In its place was something called the Smoothie Factory. And the place was jam-packed.

“What the heck?” I said. The Smoothie Factory buzzed with people, music, bright lights, and color. If I hadn’t seen the name, I might’ve guessed it was a dance club with an eighties neon theme.

“It’s like the end of an era,” Josie added.

Just then we heard a familiar “HELL-o!” And there was Alayna Appleton, an inch from our faces.

Alayna, aka the Amazing Apple, was a thirteen-year-old magician. Her MO was to troll the boardwalk and beach, sharing card tricks and pulling arcade tokens out of people’s ears, noses, and butts. She was popular among vacationers, especially kids, and she’d cornered the babysitting market. She had one trick that she reserved specifically for me, Josie, and our other shore friend, Dario. Most magicians pride themselves on their ability to disappear, but the Amazing Apple wasn’t like most magicians.

She was a master at appearing. That is, she would materialize inside one of our personal-space bubbles with no warning. It was cute when we were kids, but now it was just creepy. Neither of us liked it, but Alayna was like a song you can’t get out of your head—it drives you crazy and it’s annoying, but you find yourself singing along, because you also kind of like it at the same time you’re wishing it would go away.

Josie jumped. “Alayna, you scared the pants off me.”

“I’m going by ‘Apple’ this year. You know, nearly in high school and all. Time for a whole new brand.” She smiled big. “Look. Got my braces off.”

Even Alayna was evolving for high school. “Great seeing you, Alayna—I mean, Amazing—I mean, Apple—but we’re totally late.” I nudged Josie to walk away.

“Guess what?” Apple stopped us.

Neither of us asked what.

“Turns out I’m lactose intolerant.” She made an exaggerated pout. “Gives me gas.”

Was she really telling us about her gas?

“Bummer,” Josie said.

“Guess what else?” Apple asked.

We still didn’t ask what, but she said, “This winter I apprenticed with the enchantress of Estonia. So, that’s kind of a big deal. She’s expert in the act of exorcism and elemental recomposition. Together we scaled the cliffs of Saaremaa Island and called upon necromancing quadrilaterals and—”

“Uh, sounds great.” I cut her off. “Sorry. But we’re late, remember?”

We’d managed to get a few feet away when Josie turned and called back to her, “See ya.” But Apple was gone.

“Maybe the quadrilateral enchanters taught her how to disappear,” I said.

“You have to admit,” Josie said, “she truly is amazing.”

Josie was right, but I’d outgrown magic tricks.

Josie returned to our previous problem and asked, “What if Kevin’s Fun House closed too? You know what that would mean? Oh no, Stell, what if…”

It sounded like Josie was panicking about the fun house, but she was actually concerned about what we’d hidden there. Well, not there. But under there. If Kevin’s Fun House closed, we’d lose our supercool way to access our hiding spot.

To calm her I said, “There’s no way,” but she was already racing down the little stretch of boardwalk between the Smoothie Factory and Kevin’s Fun House. It was under this part of the boardwalk that was important to us.

“Slow down,” I called to Josie. Man, she’d gotten faster, or I’d gotten slower. Probably some of each.

She slowed and noticed I was out of breath from sprinting only a few yards. “I guess you didn’t have a great track season this year?”

“Nah. I quit.”

“What? Why?”

“It would’ve totally eaten into my social life,” I