You’re Invited Too by Jen Malone and Gail Nall Page A

waiting, it’ll take us longer to get there, and we’ll have less time for the party.”
    I look back at Becca’s mom just as she disappears into the pantry. Lauren’s right; we need to get going. Plus, Miss Worthington will be mad if we take too long getting there.
    We slip quietly out through the front door. Even though she’s hiding it well, I can tell Lauren is nervous about the whole driving-people-in-her-golf-cart thing, because she’s extra quiet as we slip down the stairs to the spot under the house where it’s parked.
    â€œSure you’re okay with this?” I ask one last time as we climb onto the bench seat.
    â€œIt’ll be fun. And it’s the most logical solution,” Lauren answers. When it comes to Lauren and logic, there’s no arguing, so I close my mouth.
    We pull out onto the dark streets. Even in the months when we don’t have to worry about artificial lights causing the baby sea turtles to get confused and head away from the ocean, Sandpiper Beach is so small and quiet that streetlights would ruin the “ambiance” (or so Mom has said). Only the public places and a few businesses, like the square and the marina, have them. On nights without a moon, like tonight, it’s so dark you can barely see the shapes of the houses lining the streets, unless they’re lit up from the inside. Cooper gives a small woof from the porch of Polka Dot Books as we drive away from Becca’s.
    We turn down Sandpiper Drive and onto Pelican Street. Lauren is concentrating on navigating the dark streets, and I don’t want to bother her, so I breathe in the smell of the salt water and listen for the crashing waves. The air is eerily still, and there’s the tiniest hint of crispness to it, which makes me shiver happily. I love October the best, and not just because of Halloween.
    Except, speaking of Halloween, Becca’s been suspiciously quiet about her costume plans for us, and it’s almost here. She always gets us to coordinate costumes. Last year it was the Four Musketeers (we added one we called Sadoths to match Porthos, Athos, and Aramis) and the year before that we were the Wicked Witch of the West, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and Dorothy. Three guesses who insisted on wearing the sparkly red shoes!
    I angle my knees toward Lauren. “Hey, is Becca still being super-secretive about her costume ideas for—” Before I can finish, an engine revs behind us, and the entire golf cart lights up with flashing red-and-blue lights. My heart takes a ride on the Tower of Terror all the way into my shoes. (Not red. Not sparkly.)
    Lauren stands on the brake, and we both jerk forward, then slam back against the seat. The golf cart skids to a stop in the middle of Pelican Street while the police cruiser crunches gravel as it rolls close, then parks a few feet away. A car door closes. I’m too scared to look at Lauren, so I turn in my seat and squint at Officer Davis as he approaches.
    He aims a flashlight right into our faces, and I blink hard to keep my eyes from watering.
    â€œThat you, Sadie Pleffer? And Lauren Simmons?”
    Lauren recovers her eyesight—and her voice—first and answers a quiet “Yes, sir.”
    â€œYou girls out for a joyride or something?” Officer Davis asks, shining the beam of light all around the golf-cart floor and into its back storage space.
    â€œWe, um, we were just on our way to a meeting with a client, sir,” I offer. I still don’t want to look at Lauren, because she must be totally freaking out, and I’m scared that if I see that, I will too.
    â€œA client?” By the light of the flashing bar on top of the cruiser’s roof, I can see Officer Davis’s eyebrows hitch up. “Oh, that’s right. You girls doing that birthday party thing these days, ain’t ya? Planned my niece Molly’s party this summer at the Plantation House. I heard all about that