Read Who Stole Halloween? for Free Online

Dad said, “and speaking of Yasmeen . . .”
    She was knocking at the front door, same as she does every day. That meant it had to be precisely 7:45. Yasmeen is never late to pick me up for school.
    â€œWant to come pumpkin shopping with us?” Dad asked her.
    â€œAt the haunted house,” I added.
    Yasmeen said probably—she’d have to check with her dad. Then she adjusted the straps on my backpack, and we headed out the door.
    It is a two-block walk from my house to College Springs Elementary School—one block to Bub’s at the end of Chickadee Court and one along Groundhog Drive to the school. For the first block I filled Yasmeen in on what my mom had said about stolen cats and how Mom wanted us to get the ghost story from Mr. Stone. For the second Yasmeen quizzed me on spelling words. We are in different rooms this year, so we figured we’d meet at lunch to plan our next move.
    But our next move came to us.
    Yasmeen and I had just sat down in the cafeteria when Kyle came over to our table. We were shocked. At our school it’s strange for a kid in a higher grade to talk to a kid in a lower one. It’s more than strange, it’s like totally uncool for a kid in a higher grade to risk this at lunch—when his friends are bound to see.Whatever Kyle wanted, it had to be really important.
    â€œUh . . . I came to ask you . . . ,” he began, and if it’s possible, he looked more miserable than before, “. . . uh, I mean, everything’s okay now. . . . You don’t need to get my cat back.”

Chapter Eleven

    Yasmeen dropped her sandwich she was so surprised. Me—I almost choked on my Chips Ahoy!
    â€œWhat?” Yasmeen said. “She came back on her own, you mean?”
    Kyle shook his head no. “I wish, but that’s not it. I’m just saying—of course I
want
her back. She was like my best friend . . . but I don’t want you to help get her for me.”
    â€œWhy not?” I said. “We already found out some stuff.”
    â€œWhat?” Now Kyle looked scared. “What have you found out?”
    â€œNothing,” Yasmeen said.
    I looked at her. “
Nothing
? That’s not—”
    Yasmeen interrupted me with a kick. While I rubbed my shin and tried to figure out what I was missing, she said, “Nothing that was any help. Don’t worry about it, Kyle. If you don’t want me to bring your cat back, I won’t.”
    Kyle was already standing up and looking around—wondering which of his friends had seen him and how much he was going to suffer for talking to us.
    â€œThanks,” he said. “I appreciate it. I know maybe it seems weird, but . . .” He shrugged, turned, and walked away.
    When he was out of earshot, I let Yasmeen have it. “What was that about? I hope you’re carrying your famous Band-Aids because I need one where you
assaulted
me!”
    â€œI didn’t hurt you,” Yasmeen said, then she thought again. “Did I? Roll up the leg of your jeans and let me look.”
    â€œOh, right, Doctor Popp,” I said. “In the middle of the cafeteria at lunchtime, I’m going to show you my shin.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” she said, and took a bite ofher sandwich. Meanwhile, our friend Russell came over and sat down. He had a tray full of cafeteria delights.
    â€œWhat is that?” Yasmeen asked him.
    Russell took a bite. “I’m not sure, but it tastes good. Hey—that was a hard spelling test, huh? I think I got 0 out of 20.”
    Actually, I had thought the test was okay. But it would sound like bragging to tell Russell that now. And with him here, Yasmeen and I couldn’t really talk about the missing cats either. So instead, we acted like regular, normal, everyday kids—instead of hardworking detectives—and talked about regular, normal, everyday