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Nicholas says his mother would rather eat broccoli than fudge.”
    Spectators poured into the arena as the exhibitors led their sheep into position. Bleats and baas filled the air, along with broadcast directions from the judges, telling the exhibitors how to line up.
    Ellen started down the steps, eager to see The Great Sybil again. Now that she was over the first shock and had thought about it awhile, the idea of being able to communicate with Grandpa excited her. If she really could get a message and prove that it was from him, maybe Grandma would stop crying so much. And maybe her own heart would heal. It wouldn’t seem as bad to have Grandpa gone if she knew his spirit still existed.
    Behind her, Caitlin said, “Wait. I’ll go with you. I’ve seen Ben show his sheep before but I’ve never seen someone get a message from a spirit.”
    Ellen shook her head. “It’s nice of you to offer,” she said, “but I know you want to watch the sheep competition and it’s almost ready to start.”
    “I don’t want you going back there alone,” Caitlin said firmly, as she followed Ellen to the exit. “This whole thing is too weird.”
    Ellen smiled gratefully at her friend. “I could wait and go after Ben shows his sheep,” she said.
    “No,” Caitlin said. “This is more important than sheep.”
    They left the show arena and headed toward The Great Sybil’s trailer.

    COREY DASHED after the man. When he caught him, he planned to grab the shopping bag and summon help. As soon as the police found the victim’s wallet in the man’s shopping bag, they would arrest the man. Probably the woman’s purse was still in the shopping bag, too. Corey might get his picture in the paper yet.
    The fairgrounds were crowded, making it difficult for the man to move fast without attracting attention. Since he didn’t know anyone was chasing him, Corey gained on him quickly.
    Just outside one of the exhibit halls, Corey caught up. He approached the man from behind and grabbed the shopping bag, pulling it out of the startled man’s grasp. He tried to yell, “Help!” at the same time but he only managed a faint wheeze.
    “Give me that!” the man said, as he tried to take back the bag.
    Corey crossed his arms and held the bag handles tightly against his chest. He looked around him for one of the uniformed security guards who had responded when the woman’s purse was stolen, but none was in sight.
    “Why, you sneaky little thief!” the man said. He grabbed Corey’s shoulder and turned to two teenaged boys who stood nearby. “This kid is trying to steal my bag,” he said.
    The boys instantly grabbed Corey’s arm and pried his hands loose from the shopping bag. “That was a stupid move, kid,” one of them said.
    “
He’s
the thief,” Corey rasped but in addition to having novoice, he was out of breath from running and he could tell the boys did not understand him.
    The boys handed the bag back to the man.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    Corey glared at him. This time he paid attention to the man’s appearance. Medium height. Brown hair. Dark blue shirt and pants. A gold wristwatch. There was nothing remarkable about the man’s appearance and Corey realized that he probably dressed in a nondescript way on purpose. If he wore a wild-colored plaid shirt or a T-shirt with a saying on the front, witnesses would be able to remember him. This way, he blended into the crowd and slipped away unnoticed.
    “Are you going to call the cops?” one of the teenagers asked.
    “No,” the man said. “He has probably learned a lesson.”
    In frustration, Corey tried to wriggle free. He knew the man didn’t want to call the cops because if the police came they would discover who the guilty person really was.
    The man turned and walked toward the entrance of the building.
    Corey twisted and jerked. He pointed at the man’s shopping bag and tried to whisper, “Thief.”
    “Knock it off, kid,” one of the teenagers said. He and his buddy,