California Schemin': Book One in the Malibu Mayhem Trilogy by Carolyn Keene Page B

in.
    Bess and I traded a look that said, Whatever .
    As we neared the yacht I caught a whiff of something definitely not a cruise buffet. Bess screwed up her nose too.
    “I think we just found those garbage bags,” she whispered. “They’re already loaded onto the yacht.”
    Roland’s gleaming silver yacht was even more impressive close up. Over a hundred feet long, it looked like one of those luxury super-yachts.
    “Hurry aboard, hurry aboard,” Roland shouted to us from the hull. “We have lots of inner work to do.”
    As we climbed aboard, we were greeted by crew members wearing white jackets with the sunburst logo. We were also greeted by a table filled with cookies, soda, and chips.
    “At least the bean dip has protein,” Bess said.
    Retro disco music blared from speakers as the yacht drifted gently out to sea. Lanterns strung across the deck created a colorful glow as the sun began to set in the distance.
    “I can smell the garbage, but I don’t see it,” I said, my eyes darting around the deck. “Where do you think those bags are?”
    “You know the old saying,” Bess whispered. “Seek and ye shall find.”
    We tried not to look obvious as we searched the main deck. Somewhere near the bow I spotted a mound underneath a tarp. Making sure no one wasaround, I pulled it back. Underneath were, not trash bags, but about six steel drums marked DIESEL OIL, HIGHLY FLAMMABLE .
    “Whoa,” I said. “There must be hundreds of gallons of oil in those things.”
    “Why would Roland carry this much oil onboard?” Bess wondered. “A yacht this size must have a huge fuel tank.”
    “Maybe he’s stocking up for a long journey at sea,” I said, covering the drums. “Hopefully this cruise isn’t it!”
    We were about to keep on searching when the music suddenly stopped.
    “Everybody!” Inge shouted. “It’s time for Roland’s inspirational message.”
    “Here we go again,” Bess said as everyone sat cross-legged on the dance floor. Roland was seated on an elaborate wicker fan chair instead of on a velvet throne.
    Once everybody was ready, Inge nodded with approval. She then walked off, leaving Roland to gaze out at us with his steely eyes. When he looked at me, I smiled over gritted teeth. I was actually happy when he finally spoke.
    “Some of you have heard me talk about ‘stinkin’ thinkin’,’” Roland began. “It’s the negative and damaging thoughts we choose to control our lives.”
    I could see Mia lean forward as she took in Roland’s words. If we were lucky, Mia—and evenDaisy—wouldn’t say anything about my phone. If either one did, we were toast!
    “You know those thoughts,” Roland said, his voice beginning to rise. “I’m too fat! I’m not rich enough! I don’t have my own reality show! Garbage! Garbage! Garbage thinking!”
    I could see others nodding as if they got it. Brad actually had tears streaming down his face.
    “The time has come to take those nasty, horrible thoughts and kick ’em to the curb,” Roland said as he rose to his feet.
    An attendant wheeled a large canvas bin over to Roland. The bin was overflowing with white plastic bags!
    “Bess, there they are,” I whispered.
    “Many of you know the drill, since we’ve done this before,” Roland said, his eyes flashing with excitement. “Everyone, grab a white bag. Take it over to the railing, and when I give you the signal, spill the trash—and your negative insecurities—into the sea!”
    “But Roland, won’t we be polluting the ocean?” Ralph asked. There was a murmuring in the crowd.
    “No,” Roland answered. “These bags contain pure, organic materials that won’t harm the waters. The dumping will purify your souls.”
    The others raced toward the bin. Bess and I were too stunned to move.
    “Do you believe this?” Bess asked. “Roland is using the trash as a symbol for negative thinking.”
    “And we now know that’s how the garbage got onto Stacey’s beach,” I said. “It was dumped