Free I So Don't Do Famous by Barrie Summy

first shower.” Junie is already logging off.
    â€œDoes anyone have Tylenol?” I ask.
    Junie and my dad shake their heads.
    â€œGive me a sec to throw on my shorts, Dad,” I say, “and I’ll go down to the lobby with you. I bet they have Tylenol in the gift shop.”
    Minutes later, when I’m a couple of footsteps into the elevator, I smell coffee.
    The door glides closed on me and my dad. “Meeting by the pool,” my mom says in my ear. “To discuss last night’s theft.”
    My breath catches in my throat.
    â€œMrs. Howard is here,” she continues. “Don’t worry. She just wants to touch base.”
    Mrs. Howard, my mother’s guidance counselor at the Academy of Spirits? She has a Southern accent, can be as mean as a pack of eighth-grade girls, smellslike cinnamon rolls when pleased and like burnt sugar when annoyed. My heart sinks faster than the descending elevator.
    The elevator doors open and I shuffle toward the gift shop. When she knows the whole scoop, Mrs. Howard is going to eat me alive.
    â€œSherry! Sherry!” my mom says.
    I tune in. “Huh?”
    â€œI didn’t say anything,” my dad says.
    â€œThe pool’s not that way,” my mom says.
    I press my palm against my forehead.
    â€œYou’ll feel better after you buy that Tylenol,” Dad says.
    â€œOh, you have a headache.” Mom gently lifts my hair. “I’ll let Mrs. Howard know you’ll be a few minutes late.” The smell of coffee disappears.
    Before we part ways, Dad says, “We’ll hunt down Detective Garcia as soon as I get back with a car.”
    â€œSure. Sure thing.” I plod down the hall and into the hotel gift shop. I can’t believe I just rode in an elevator with my dad and my ghost mom. And didn’t think about how bizarre it was, especially given that my dad is totally oblivious to my mom’s presence. And how awkward is it for my mom that my dad is remarried? Plus, I forgot to tell my dad to rent a cool car. I am definitely überworried.
    I’m staring at the shelf, trying to find Tylenol, when I feel eyes on me. A cute guy about my age withstraight dark hair, dark eyes and a SOCCER ROCKS! T-shirt nods in my direction. My pulse quickens, which I do not understand because I am so not over Josh.
    I pay for a bottle of water and the Tylenol. As I’m leaving the store, I can’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder to see if the guy’s watching me. He is.
    Then it’s down the hall, through a door leading to the back of the hotel property, past a tiled fountain, and onto a walkway to the pool area, where my mother’s waiting for me.
    â€œHow bad’s your head?” my mom asks.
    â€œI’ll be okay.” With my finger, I push a couple of Tylenol to the back of my tongue, then wash them down with a swig of water.
    The pool sparkles in the morning sun. Tall palm trees reach for fluffy cotton clouds. I wend my way past chaise longues.
    â€œShe’s over in the corner at the back. At the table between the palm and the fire pit,” my mother says. “Sherry, don’t be nervous. Everything’s fine.”
    Easy for her to say. She doesn’t know about my connection to Lorraine and Stef.
    The closer we get to Mrs. Howard’s table, the stronger the smell of cinnamon buns gets, until it’s cloying and overly sweet. I’m barely seated in a white plastic lawn chair, when a round fuzzy shape hoversabove me, fluttering the table umbrella. “Hiya, Sherry. Are you aware of what’s being said about you?”
    Mrs. Howard rarely wastes much time on chitchat. I stay silent. She asked what’s called a rhetorical question, meaning if you try to answer it, you’ll just make things worse.
    â€œI am sorry to report that the World Wide Web for the Dead is filled with the news that you were present during a robbery. Let me share some of the headlines: