Minerva Clark Gets a Clue Read Online Free Page A

Halsey.
    â€œLike I freaking need
this
,” she said, looking in the rearview mirror. She drove old-lady slow around the corner, stopping at the curb next to a bowling alley.
    Actually, she said the real F word.
    I turned around to see a white police car behind us, the red and blue lights twirling on the roof. There was a long line of traffic backed up behind us. The cars slowed as they steered around us. The drivers stared at us. What if someone I knew drove by? Someone from school, or someone’s mom?
    I thought about ducking, but there was really nowhere to duck.
    The officer got out of the patrol car, adjusted his holster, and strolled up to Jordan’s window. He was so tall he needed to bend nearly in half to look in the window. He had white hair even though he didn’t look very old. His eyes were pale, like the color of water in a glass.
    â€œDo you know why I stopped you?” he asked.
    â€œFor not stopping fully at the corner?” Jordan looked up at him nervously from under her long bangs.
    â€œWell, there’s that. You also got yourself a smashed taillight. You back into a phone pole or something?”
    Jordan wrinkled her nose, confused. “A smashed taillight? How?”
    The officer asked for her license and registration. Sherummaged around in her backpack for her wallet, then reached over my bowling-ball knees to the glove box to find the registration. After she handed them over, the policeman strolled back to his white patrol car.
    We sat. Jordan sniffed a little. I think she may have been crying, but I didn’t dare look over.
    â€œQuills gets pulled over a lot,” I said. “The speedometer doesn’t work and he never knows how fast he’s going. This doesn’t sound like any big deal.”
    â€œDid you notice my taillight smashed out? I just washed this two days ago.”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œWhen I picked you up, you didn’t see the taillight out?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” I said. There was a bad feeling cooking in my stomach. We sat there for what felt like forever. Jordan kept glancing in her side-view mirror. She then did a funny, major off-topic thing. She reached over and gave my hand a little squeeze. “Things okay at home?” she asked.
    â€œHuh? Sure, I guess.”
    â€œGood. I’m glad.” Jordan had been there the day my mom, Deedee, told her mom, my aunt Susie, that she was leaving us and moving to Santa Fe to become a yoga instructor.
    Before I could say anything else, the cop returned andinstead of giving Jordan back her papers, he opened her car door. “Would you please step out, miss?”
    Jordan got out without looking over at me. The officer walked behind her, leading her back to his patrol car. All I could see was his wide back, his black belt with the gun in its holster on one hip and a billy club in its holder on the other. What was going on? Where was he taking her? With a sickening jolt I realized that the worst day of my life was also probably going to be the worst day of my cousin Jordan’s life.
    Through the back window I watched my cousin put her hands on the roof of the car. She was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and low-rise jeans with a thick brown leather belt. He patted her sides, then actually pulled out a pair of real handcuffs. To tell you the truth, I thought they used these only on TV. I thought they saved them for murderers and businessmen.
    Then, suddenly, there was a sharp knock at my window. For the second time in about a minute and a half I jumped.
    It was another officer, the first one’s partner. This policewoman wore a French braid and braces. Maybe I would be a cop when I grew up. Especially if I could wear a French braid.
    â€œYour friend needs to come with us. Do you have someone who could come and pick you up?” Sheseemed pretty friendly. It was hard to remember that it was Jordan in trouble and not me. Then I remembered, I wasn’t in