Finding Grace by Becky Citra Page B

your partners in crime getting back from camp?” the man asks.
    â€œOne more week.”
    â€œHere.” The man slips Grace two quarters. “It’s a scorcher today. Buy yourself and your friend an ice cream.”
    Grace says that the Top Notch has the best ice cream. I hold my breath when we go inside, praying that Mom won’t be there. She’s not. We order double cones, but Daphne gives us each an extra scoop. I know right away that I want chocolate, but Grace takes ages to choose. This is a perfect time to test our mental telepathy. While Grace is flitting back and forth, peering in the tubs, I concentrate as hard as I can.
    Strawberry. Make her choose strawberry.
    Choose strawberry.
    Choose strawberry.
    Choose strawberry.
    â€œButterscotch,” Grace says.
    Cripes.
    While Daphne is scooping out Grace’s cone, I keep my eyes peeled on the doorway into the kitchen. I still haven’t seen Fred with the one ear.
    We take our cones outside and sit on a bench beside the lake and look at all the boats while we eat. Three boys walk by and one of them, a boy with black hair and a dark tan, makes a rude oinking noise like a pig.
    â€œYou just wish you had one,” Grace retorts. “Mmmm, this is soooo delicious.”
    â€œOink! Oink!”
    â€œThat’s David,” Grace says when they’re gone. “Me and Janey and Louise hate him.”
    David is one of the boys I saw working on the raft at the beach. I tell Grace and she looks very interested. “A raft! I didn’t think David was smart enough to think of something cool like that.”
    Grace attacks her cone in big gulps and I lick slowly. I’m still polishing off the last bits of mine when we walk back to her house.
    By the time we get there, Grace is limping a little. She’s also complaining about how hot she is. “I’ll make us some Kool-Aid,” she says. “Then I’d better clean up my room.”
    She slams to a stop at the end of the walk in front of her house. “Uh-oh.”
    A figure is standing on the porch. My first impression is gray . Gray stockings, gray dress, gray hair pulled back in a tight bun.
    â€œAunty Eve, you’re back early,” Grace says. “This is my new friend Hope. She’s staying at the hotel. We’ve just been to the post office so you wouldn’t have to go in this heat.”
    I wish I wasn’t holding the end of this ice-cream cone. I wish there wasn’t a blob of butterscotch ice cream on Grace’s chin.
    Aunty Eve gives me a cool look. Up close, she’s very tall. And thin. She reminds me of a heron I saw once on the beach in Vancouver. Even her eyes are gray, like the ocean on a cloudy day. They are not smiley eyes. “Run along, Hope,” she says in an icy voice.
    She turns to Grace. “And you, young lady. Inside. Now.”

Chapter Twenty-Six
    I make it all the way to dessert before I blow up. It’s Daphne’s famous chocolate pie and it’s wrecked for me because I’m so mad. Ever since we sat down, Mom’s been firing questions at me. I’ve only known Grace one day and I’m supposed to be an expert on her. How should I know what her favorite color is? Or if she likes dogs? Or what kind of grades she gets at school?
    We all ordered fish and chips. I noticed Mr. Pinn ate every scrap, mopping up his ketchup with his last few fries, but Mom hardly had a bite. She was too busy interrogating me like the FBI.
    Now we’re at dessert and my mouthful of creamy chocolate pie sticks in my throat. I swallow and then explode. “I’M NOT A SPY!”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” Mom says.
    â€œThat’s what it feels like.” I lower my voice because a girl at another table is staring at me.
    I hate this. I’m not exactly lying to Grace, but I’m hiding stuff and that makes me feel horrible. And the longer it goes, the worse it’s going to