Free I So Don't Do Famous by Barrie Summy Page A

‘Is it a coincidence that the mother-daughter duo were at the
Hollywood Girl
reception last night?’ ‘Were they supposed to prevent the heist?’ ‘Are they losing their touch?’ ”
    The fuzzy round ball that is Mrs. Howard expands and grows darker. I can make out a furrowed brow and a dark slash of eyebrow. “Remember, Sherry, when I talked to you about the responsibility of being associated with this here Academy? I emphasized how our enemies would be constantly on the lookout for y’all to fail.”
    â€œYes,” I squeak.
    â€œWell, I am just appalled and dismayed at how these ghosts are chasing after you, trying to tarnish your good reputation. They are like hound dogs on a false trail,” she says. “Of course you had nothing to do with last night’s robbery. You’re honest and quick-thinking. An asset to our Academy.”
    â€œOh,” I say. Guilt is like a noose around my neck.
    â€œI represent the entire Academy,” Mrs. Howard drawls, “when I apologize for the behavior of these sensationalist-seeking ghosts.”
    The noose of guilt tightens.
    â€œI have issued a statement claiming you are not even acquainted with the two thieving teens.” Mrs. Howard places a blurry hand on her blurry heart. “I want you to comprehend how much I believe in you.”
    I’m choking.
    â€œAnd this extends to you, too, Christine,” Mrs. Howard says.
    â€œActually,” I say, “Mom was barely at the event, just long enough to be a good mother and see me get the award. She definitely wasn’t around when the robbery happened.”
    â€œYou know when it happened?” Mom and Mrs. Howard say together. And I’m sure their ghost jaws drop.
    I tell them about Junie’s photos.
    â€œYou
might
know when it happened,” Mrs. Howard drawls. “Those photos don’t sound overly conclusive. But I agree with your decision to take all this to the police.”
    â€œOn the news, they said they were close to wrapping up a mystery dealing with celebrity break-ins,” I say. “The detective made it sound like Dear Elle’s purse was part of that case.”
    â€œGlad to hear they’re on the brink of solving it,” Mrs. Howard says, “because the Academy of Spirits will be taking a hands-off stance with all of this.” She sinks her large blurry self into the chair across from me.
    â€œOur online experts advise us to ignore the Internet hubbub and let it die a natural death,” Mrs. Howard continues. “Reminds me of duck hunting. The dogs flush out a flock, and there’s a flurry of quacking and flapping and shooting. Followed by silence.”
    â€œHow did the girls gain admittance to the dinner? Wasn’t it by invitation only?” my mom asks, morphed into detective mode.
    I swallow. “Well, actually”—I draw the word out as long as I can—“I got them in.”
    I confess all the sordid details.
    Mrs. Howard bloats up like a poisonous puffer fish, ready to pop and spew all over the place.

chapter
twelve

    M y father does not return with a dorky rental car.
Au contraire
, he returns with a very cool convertible! It’s silver with black pinstripes and a black top, which will always be down if I have any say. This is the best thing that’s happened to me today.
    As we’re tooling out of the hotel parking lot, my dad floors it. This is the second best thing that’s happened today.
    Junie cinches her seat belt.
    â€œWow, Dad,” I say, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
    â€œYou should’ve seen me back in the day. I was the man with my souped-up cars.” He squeals into a tight right turn onto Sunset Boulevard.
    So different from The Ruler and her tentative-grandma driving style, white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two. I smile. I’m loving our father-daughter bonding!
    We zoom down