DASH, SPLASH, CLASH!

 

 

  “The new splash pad couldn’t open on a better day,” nine-year-old Frank Hardy told his brother Joe. “It’s the hottest day since summer vacation started!”

  Eight-year-old Joe smiled. “It’s so hot,” he said, “I’ll bet popcorn is popping itself!”

  “If that’s the case,” Chet Morton declared, “make mine caramel with peanuts!”

  The brothers and their best friend were making their way to the Bayport Science Center. The new Dash and Splash Pad would be on the science center grounds.

  “I’ll bet every kid in Bayport will be at the splash pad launch today,” Frank said as the sun felt hotter with each step.

  “Yeah,” Joe agreed. “Who wouldn’t want to cool off in a cool way?”

  “I can name three kids who probably won’t show up today,” Chet said with a frown. “Adam Ackerman and his friends Seth and Tony.”

  Frank frowned too at the mention of Bayport Elementary School’s biggest bullies. “What wouldn’t they like about a splash pad?” he asked Chet.

  “Instead of the Dash and Splash Pad,” Chet explained, “Adam, Seth, and Tony wanted a bike park with extreme ramps.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “They’ve been riding their bikes all over Bayport,” he said. “And blasting their horns, too!”

  “If Adam, Seth, and Tony didn’t want the Dash and Splash Pad,” Frank said, “there’s no reason for them to be there today.”

  “Do those three ever need a reason to make trouble?” Joe groaned.

  Frank, Joe, and Chet were just a few blocks away from the science center. As they turned a corner, they were surprised by four dogs heading toward them, pulling on their leashes. Clutching the leashes with both hands was Chet’s sister, Iola.

  “Hey, Chet,” Frank said. “You didn’t tell us you got a dog!”

  “Plus three!” said Joe.

  “Not our pups!” Chet said. “Iola is volunteering at the Wags and Whiskers Animal Shelter this summer.”

  “Why the pet shelter?” Frank asked.

  “Because it’s the next best thing to having her own dog,” Chet said. “Iola wants a dog more than anything.”

  “That’s for sure!” Iola said, getting all four dogs to stop. “I have to get these guys ready for the big pet adoption fair on Sunday!”

  “How?” Joe asked before a floppy-eared dog jumped up to lick his face.

 

   

 

Iola smiled as she gently tugged the dog away from Joe. “For starters,” she said, “all of these pups have to be washed and groomed sometime today or tomorrow.”

  Joe wiped his wet face with the back of his hand. “I think that pup just washed me,” he chuckled.

  “These dogs have to be exercised, too,” Iola explained, “which is why I’m not wheeling them in the Wags and Whiskers Pup Wagon today.”

  Joe whistled between his teeth. “A wagon for getting around?” he asked. “Those are some pampered pups!”

  One dog barked as something round and yellow rolled down the block toward them. It was a lemon, bumping off a street sign and rolling around the corner!

  All four dogs dashed after the runaway lemon, dragging Iola around the corner while she shouted, “Stop! Sit! Staaaay!”

  Chet shook his head in confusion. “Since when do dogs like lemons?” he asked. “I thought they only chased squirrels and fire trucks.”

   

  “Where did that lemon roll in from anyway?” Joe asked.

  Frank pointed down the street. “Down the block is our answer,” he replied. “There’s Lucy Lafferty’s lemonade stand.”

  Joe looked to see where his brother was pointing. Sure enough, eight-year-old Lucy was busy setting up her stand—just like she did every summer in Bayport.

  As the boys approached the stand, Joe said, “Hi, Lucy. If you’re looking for a runaway lemon, one just rolled around the corner.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy said. “You didn’t see a lemonade truck riding around too?”

  Chet’s eyes lit up. “You mean the new ‘Be Our Zest’ lemonade truck?” he asked. “I heard they sell lemonade in all flavors—like watermelon, blueberry—”

  “Even pineapple-lemon coconut,” Joe cut in.

  “We didn’t see the truck today, Lucy,” Frank said. “But practically every kid in Bayport has heard about it.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Lucy admitted. “I knew that lemonade truck would put the squeeze on me!”

  “What do you mean?” Joe asked.

  “Everyone will want to drink their lemonade instead of mine,” Lucy said. “But as they say, when life throws you lemons—make your own fancy-flavored lemonade!”

  She lifted a pitcher and declared, “And here’s mine. Ta-daaa!”

  Frank, Joe, and Chet stared into the pitcher. Besides ice, floating in the cloudy liquid were little round things no bigger than gumballs.

  “What’s… that?” Joe asked.

  “If that’s a fish tank,” Chet said, “it needs cleaning.”

  Lucy was too busy taking out three plastic cups to hear Chet’s remark. “Who’s ready to try Lucy Lafferty’s Bodacious Bubble Lemonade?” she asked.

   

  “Bubble lemonade?” Frank repeated.

  “Is that what those blobby things are?” Joe asked.

  “They’re tapioca bubbles that you can chew between sips,” Lucy explained. “So who wants the first cup? One to a customer, please!”

  The boys kept staring inside the pitcher. They had never tasted tapioca bubbles before—and weren’t sure they wanted to.

  “Uh…,” Joe said slowly.

  “Well…,” said Frank hesitantly.

  “I’ll pass,” Chet said. “I do gummy, crunchy, even stretchy. But never squishy.”

  Lucy’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Chet. “Chet Morton never says no to food!” she cried. “If he doesn’t want to try my bubble lemonade—no one will!”

  “Not true, Lucy,” Frank said. “There’s got to be kids in Bayport who will want to drink—or chew—your new lemonade.”

  “You just have to spread the word,” Joe said with a smile. “You know… bubble up some excitement.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Chet said. “Maybe you could try… a new flavor?”

  Lucy appeared to be deep in thought as the brothers and Chet said good-bye and walked on. They reached the grounds of the science center and the site of the Dash and Splash Pad. Kids stood around the splash pad, eagerly waiting for the fountain jets to spurt. One group wore T-shirts reading CAMP BLAST OFF.

  “Camp Blast Off is the science center’s space camp,” Joe pointed out. “I’ll bet those kids want to be astronauts when they grow up.”

  “Space camp,” Frank said. “Do you think there’ll ever be a camp for kid detectives like us?”

   

  Joe smiled. He and Frank loved solving mysteries more than anything. They even had a clue book where they kept notes on their latest cases. It was filled with clues, possible suspects—even doodles.

  “Sure, there’ll be a detective camp,” Joe replied. “And they can call it Camp Whodunit!”

  A hush came over the crowd as a grinning man walked to the middle of the splash pad. He spoke through a megaphone, his voice booming out:

  “I’m Martin Young, Bayport’s new director of parks and recreation. I hope you won’t mind if I gush about our new Dash and Splash Pad!”

  Martin waited for a few chuckles, then continued.

  “Our splash pad will use less water than a swimming pool and will run on a timer,” he announced. “So every morning its fountains will turn on automatically at seven thirty sharp!”

  He waited for the cheers to die down, then shouted, “What are we all waiting for? Let’s start the countdown so we can dash and splash!”

  Frank, Joe, and Chet joined the others as they counted down: “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven—”

  BEEP, BEEP!! HONK, HONK!!!!

  “What’s that?” Joe asked.

  All heads turned toward the loud noise. The crowd parted to make room for three kids riding bright-colored bikes. Two kids beeped their bike horns, while the third honked an air horn at full blast!

  Shadows from the riders’ helmets covered most of their faces. But for Frank, Joe, and Chet, there was no mistaking who they were.

  “Great,” Frank groaned under his breath. “Here come Adam, Seth, and Tony.”

  Joe frowned as the riders zoomed around and around Martin. “I think you mean,” he said, “here comes trouble!”