Secrets at the Chocolate Mansion (2 page)

“Taking a break already?” Sonya's mom, Ricki, called from the other side of the store.

“I've been working since seven o'clock this morning,” Sonya cried.

When Ricki laughed, I noticed she had the same smile as Sonya. Or vice versa, I suppose. “I'm kidding, sweetie. We've got things covered.” She gestured toward the two other employees at the shop. One of them looked a lot like Sonya and her mom—same dark skin and big brown eyes. She wore her hair in braids, like Sonya. They could've been twins, except this girl was much taller. Older, too, I think. The other person was a white guy—tall, with long blond hair that hung down his back in a low ponytail.

“Who are they?” I asked.

Sonya pointed to the girl with braids. “That's my cousin Felicity. And the other guy is Joshua Marcus, who lives across the street.”

“Oh, cool,” I said with a nod. “I thought he looked familiar.”

“He's cute, huh?” Sonya whispered to me.

“I guess.” I shrugged. “It's hard for me to tell. I don't like old guys, so he's not really my type.”

“He's only nineteen,” said Sonya. “And I'll be thirteen in less than a month. And while a six-year age difference seems like a big deal now, when we're older, it's
so
not going to be. My mom is ten whole years younger than my dad.”

“I don't know,” I said, staring at Joshua. “Nineteen sounds ancient to me.”

We made our way through the crowd to the back booth, which was empty except for the
RESERVED
sign on the table. Sonya plucked it up and slipped it into her back pocket.

“Wow, VIP treatment,” said Lulu, sliding into the booth. “How fancy.”

“Only the best for my friends,” said Sonya.

“This place is packed,” I said as an entire baseball team streamed in through the front door, cleats still on and shirts untucked, with mud streaked on most of their pants.

“Yeah, it's a good sign, huh?” said Sonya. “I'm so excited for my mom. She's wanted to open a place like this forever.”

Just then Ricki walked up to us while carefully balancing a gorgeous pie on a shiny silver tray. “Hi, everyone. This is fresh out of the oven. Who'd like the first slice?” she asked.

Just looking at the pie—the flaky brown crust, the bright, sweet-looking strawberries bursting out of the top—made my mouth water.

And since no one else spoke up, I said, “I'll have it.”

Sonya's mom set the platter down with a wink. “Please be my guest—and be honest: this is a new recipe, and I'd love to get your opinion.” She placed a slice on a plate and set it down in front of me.

I took a generous forkful, raised it to my lips, bit down, and almost choked.

Ricki cringed. “Oh, dear. I didn't mean
that
honest.”

I tried to smile politely as I spit the crust out into my napkin. Except it's hard to be polite while spitting. Especially while spitting out baked goods directly in front of the actual baker.

Sonya must've thought I was kidding around, because she snapped, “That's not funny, Maggie. Someone might see you.”

“I know, and I'm sorry,” I said, looking around the shop. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying attention to our table. “But there's something wrong with that pie. It tastes like the ocean at Coney Island.”

“Like medical waste?” asked Milo.

I elbowed him and clarified. “No, like salt.”

Finn pulled the pie closer to him, took a tiny slice of crust, and set it on the tip of his tongue.

Immediately, his face twisted into an expression of disgust as he fought his gag reflex. “She's right,” he said with a cough. “It's nasty.”

Sonya tasted the pie, too, and spit it out fast. “Mom,” she whispered. “We've got a big problem.”

Ricki sat down at the booth and took a forkful for herself. After chewing and forcing herself to swallow, she said, “Blech. Something went horribly wrong. Let me have that.” She whisked the pie away from us as though it were a ticking time bomb.

“The shakes are delicious, I swear,” said Sonya. “Especially the chocolate banana. Can I get you one on the house?”

“Yuck,” I said, crinkling my nose.

“But you love chocolate and bananas,” said Sonya.

“I love chocolate and bananas on their own, but not mixed together,” I explained.

“You are so weird,” Lulu said.

“I feel the same way,” said Finn.

“That your sister is a weirdo?” asked Lulu.

“No, that banana-flavored anything is disgusting,” said Finn.

“Thank you.” My brother and I high-fived across the table. Lulu and Milo looked at each other and shook their heads, like they thought they were both dating the craziest kids in town. I felt like I was starring in some corny teen movie. And that wasn't a bad thing.

“What about other fruit, like strawberries or raspberries?” Sonya asked.

“They're great on their own, but I don't understand why it's necessary to put them in other stuff,” I said.

Sonya cracked up. “Know what? I'm going to make you the best shake you've ever had.”

“What are you putting in it?” I asked.

“I'll surprise you,” she said, heading back to the counter.

I got up and followed her.

“Afraid I'm gonna try to sneak some fruit into your milk shake?” Sonya asked.

“No, I just want to see how it's done,” I said.

Sonya stepped behind the counter while I hopped onto a stool.

“This is my cousin Felicity,” Sonya said. “Felicity, this is Maggie Brooklyn. Will you make her a chocolate malted?”

“And hold the banana,” I added.

“Sure, boss. Coming right up,” said Felicity as she poured milk, chocolate syrup, ice cream, and malted powder into a high-tech blender.

As soon as she punched the ON button the machine whirred to life, pulverizing that sugary goodness like there was no tomorrow.

The loud
whirr
got louder, and suddenly something flew through the air. Next, I felt a cold, wet sensation on my face. I gasped as something icy dripped down my chin.

It took a moment to process this new, freezing-wet reality. I had milk shake in my hair and milk shake in my ears. Milk shake stuck to my eyelashes and dripped off the tip of my nose.

“Blech!” I yelled, wiping the shake out of my eyes.

Being drenched in chocolate shake doesn't sound like such a hardship, I realize. But trust me, it was bad—a soppy, sticky mess. And most definitely not the look I was going for this afternoon.

To think I'd spent so much time selecting my outfit—jeans that were perfectly worn in and a yellow V-neck shirt, buttery soft and fitted but not tight, plus my new brown leather jacket. At least my jacket was back at the table, but still—I was a mess.

“Oh, poor Maggie,” Lulu said, handing me a large pile of napkins.

I wiped my face as best I could but still felt sticky, so I excused myself to head to the restroom.

It turned out even the bathroom had been designed to fit in with the vintage theme. Old-fashioned ads for
soap and Coca-Cola lined the walls. The sink was pedestal-style, and the toilet had a chain flush. They'd really gone all out.

After I finished washing the remaining milk shake from my hair, I headed back to the booth. But before I made it there, I heard a horrible crash.

Glass shattered and people screamed.

Next came an eerie silence.

Time seemed to stop, but only momentarily. Suddenly Ricki raced to the front of the store, as if she was chasing someone. And through the hole in the picture window, I saw a person race away.

Wait. Something wasn't right. A hole in the picture window? I blinked and tried to process what was right in front of me.

The gorgeous picture window—the one Sonya's dad had worked so hard on—was shattered. Lying in the middle of the broken glass was a rectangular piece of cardboard. I tiptoed through the shards and picked it up, carefully, with my thumb and forefinger. It was a piece of cardboard box. Someone had written a message on it in block print.

Sonya noticed me and walked over.

“What's that?” she asked.

I handed her the note and explained, “I found this in the glass.”

Sonya squinted at the note in confusion. “What does this mean?” she asked.

I looked from the shattered window to my friend. Then I took a deep breath before answering her. “I think someone's trying to sabotage the store.”

I didn't say what else I was thinking, which was this: looks like I've got a new mystery to solve.

I should probably explain a few things now. My name is Maggie Brooklyn, and I am not your typical seventh grader.

Wait, let me start over.

That makes me sound kind of snobby, or like a wannabe superhero. And I'm not a snob or a wannabe superhero. Being a superhero would be cool; believe me, if someone offered me magical powers, I wouldn't turn them down. I'd love to fly or make myself invisible or have X-ray vision like those machines they have in all the airports now. But no one's given me the option. I am a mere mortal, and not only that—I'm actually extremely typical in a lot of ways. If “typical” can be described as an extreme state of being.

I'm not sure.

Anyway, I'm a little over five feet tall, with wavy
brown hair and greenish-brownish eyes and parents who are way too strict. Oh, and I have a twin brother named Finn, but that's probably obvious by now.

I'm in seventh grade and not super popular, but not unpopular, either.

I have an after-school job walking a few neighborhood dogs. And lately, as I've been walking my dogs, I've also been walking into a mystery or three.

It's funny; the more mysteries I find and solve, the more mysteries seem to find me. And today was no exception. Between the salty pie, the shattered glass, the threatening note, and the flying milk shake, one thing was obvious: Sonya's Sweets was in trouble.

But did these problems amount to what usually happened with the opening of a new store? Or was something sinister going on?

Inquiring minds—at least
my
inquiring mind—needed to know.

But first things first. Ricki quickly determined that having shards of glass and a gaping hole in her store was potentially dangerous, and most certainly bad for business, so she shuffled everyone out and closed up shop.

Everyone, that is, except for us; Sonya convinced her to let me, Milo, Finn, and Lulu stick around to help out.

Once the store had been cleared of customers, I
showed Sonya's mom the note. I realized, now that things had calmed down a bit, that the message was printed on the back of a box of Girl Scout cookies. Thin Mints—my favorite. Of course, Thin Mints are everybody's favorite, right?

“Where did you find this?” Ricki asked, looking from the words on the box up to me and then back again, as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

“Right in the middle of the glass,” I said. “Like an angry message from the outside.”

As Ricki stared at the note, her brow furrowed. “Sit tight, everyone. I need to call the police before I clean up this mess.”

“Can we help?” Lulu asked.

“You can help by staying where you are. I don't want anyone getting hurt.”

After Ricki went to the back, the rest of us sat there in silence.

Poor Sonya looked about ready to cry. I wanted to say something to make her feel better. I just didn't know what that something might be.

Just then I heard laughter from behind me. I spun around. Felicity was giggling with Joshua behind the counter. He snapped a damp dish towel at her, and she laughed even harder.

The two of them seemed oblivious to the mess,
which struck me as odd. Because, this shattered window thing? It seemed like a very big deal.

Once Felicity noticed me staring, her smile faded. She turned away from Joshua and began wiping down the counter.

Sonya shook her head. “I cannot believe this is happening. It's like the best day of my life and the worst day of my life, all wrapped into one.”

“Well, at least it was fun while it lasted,” said Lulu.

“And it's not over. Everything's going to be okay. I'm sure this is just some random fluke,” I said, wishing I could make myself sound more convincing.

“What do you mean?” asked Sonya. “You just said you think someone is trying to sabotage the store.”

“Right,” I said weakly. “But ‘think' is the key word. None of us should jump to conclusions. It's too soon to know anything, really.”

When Ricki joined us a minute later, I could tell by the look on her face that her call to the police had not gone well.

“What did they say?” asked Sonya. “Are we in danger? Should we shut down? Will I have to change my name? Because what if there's a crazy person trying to destroy anything and anyone with the name Sonya?”

Ricki rubbed Sonya's back. “One question at a time,
sweetie. Let's not panic. I don't think one broken window means we're in life-threatening danger.”