My Mixed-Up Berry Blue Summer Read Online Free Page B

the lake.” Tina took down two glasses and poured us both some lemonade. “I’ve never been over to her house when we didn’t end up in the water.”
    â€œAnyway, I’ll jump someday.” I shot Tina a grateful glance.
    â€œI’m going out to help Dad.” Sam bonked Tina on the head. “Tag, you’re it, for Tim duty.”
    Tina sliced up two pieces of strawberry pie, then washed Tim’s hands and face. “You go and play,” she said to him. “I’ll find you in a minute.”
    We took a long swig of lemonade and came up for air at the same time, which made us giggle.
    â€œYou’re lucky you don’t have brothers,” she said. “Summer is more work than school.”
    â€œI made six dozen cookies last week.” I wanted to make peace. “But it sure beats listening to grownups lose it.”
    â€œYeah, my parents have been acting a little weird lately, too.”
    Truce, maybe.
    Tina balanced a bite on her fork. “Where did you see Sam?”
    â€œPromise not to tell?”
    She nodded.
    â€œLuke and I found a great new spot with wild blueberries. They’re not ripe yet, but I’m going back in a week,” I said. “The berries are right on the edge of a cliff, along the trail up from the old camp. It’s a cliff-jumping spot. When we were there, Sam and some other guys came.”
    â€œDid they all jump?”
    I nodded.
    â€œI’d never do that—I’m too afraid of heights,” she said.
    â€œMe, too.” But remembering the cliff’s edge didn’t make me stiffen as much as remembering the hateful words her brother had said. I couldn’t tell Tina, not now that everything seemed regular between us again. I ate another mouthful.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Tina asked, her lips red with berry juice.
    â€œIt’s great, as usual,” I said. The crust was the best—flaky and rich, and it held together nicely because of their homemade butter. “I may have to ask for some of your butter.”
    â€œI was talking about my lips!” she said, making a kissing face.
    I grinned and smeared some strawberry filling on mine.
    â€œBeautiful, dahling,” she said.
    When it was time to go, I waved to Tina, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. I pushed my kickstand up and strapped on my helmet. A light rain had started. Just as I turned the farm stand corner, I heard Mr. Costa say, “Yeah, we’re going to take it back.”
    I couldn’t see who he was talking to, and I didn’t turn around. My insides just congealed a little, like a pie left out overnight.

Chapter Five
    WHEN EVERYTHING GETS muddled up inside my head, there’s nothing better than making pies. Mom came back from her evening sail and set me up with flour, butter, and the big bowls. The strawberries were sliced and ready to go. Rhubarb stalks were washed and stacked next to a bowl of peaches.
    â€œWhat’s it going to be, pie maker?” Eva said, putting away the last dinner plate.
    I washed my hands, my back to her. “Maybe strawberry- peach or peach-rhubarb.”
    â€œWhatever kind you make will be perfect,” Eva said.
    I turned to Mom, annoyed. “How many should I make?” I dipped my hands in the flour.
    Eva went into the office, and Mom looked uncomfortable. “As many as you feel like,” she said. “I’ll do more later. We’ll be doing the accounting, OK?”
    I began to fill the measuring cup, but Mom lingered, watching me. I was sorry she wouldn’t be helping. I had made my first pie when I was six with leftover dough scraps she had given me. I used to pat the dough down, sprinkle it with cinnamon sugar, and Mom baked it for a snack. But that time, I had shaped the dough into a cup like a tart and begged for a few apples for filling.
    â€œNo worries, right, June bug?” Mom asked.
    I smiled. She hadn’t called me June bug in