Secrets of Valhalla Read Online Free

glasses, which had slipped down her nose again.
    â€œHow do you know so much about this kind of stuff?” he asked.
    â€œI know a lot about a lot of things. I’m pretty smart.” She stuck out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. “But I don’t know why Friday the thirteenth is making you so miserable. It’s only a day.”
    â€œOh, really?” Buzz said. “The Friday the thirteenth beforelast, I lost the one hundred meter race at our town’s annual swim meet because I . . . I . . .” He faltered. “I had some technical difficulties.”
    The memory rose to the surface just like his swimming trunks had.
    The girl shrugged. “So you lost your swimming trunks. I bet it made you more aerodynamic in the long run.”
    Buzz felt his cheeks get hot. “I didn’t say that’s what happened.”
    â€œYou didn’t need to. I guessed. I told you, I’m really smart.”
    â€œAnd modest,” Buzz replied, surprised at how easy he found it talking to this girl. He just felt bad that he hadn’t worked that out in the cafeteria. “The Friday the thirteenth before that, I broke my ankle after trying to surf in a shopping trolley,” he continued.
    â€œThat was just dumb,” the girl replied. “It has nothing to do with the date. You’re going to have to do better.”
    â€œFine. Last Friday the thirteenth, my mum went missing, and I don’t think she’s ever coming home.”

CHAPTER THREE
A Walk through Tangley Woods
    A t least, those were the words Buzz formed in his head. They sat on the tip of his tongue, fully formed, but he couldn’t say them out loud.
    He took a steadying breath. “I guess Friday the thirteenth has just always been kind of unlucky for me,” he said instead. “You saw what happened in the cafeteria today.” He frowned. “I just wish this day was over and it was Saturday already.”
    â€œI don’t know about that.” The girl leaned back against the tree and crossed her arms, as if to keep herself warm. “Saturdays are totally overrated in my opinion.”
    â€œOverrated!” Buzz shook his head in disbelief. “Saturdays are totally epic. You get to sleep in. You don’t have to go to school. You get to hang out with friends all day long. Watch sports, play sports, and get takeout. What’s not to love?”
    â€œThat type of Saturday does sound pretty epic,” the girl conceded. “But back home, Saturday is always the day my parents argue the most. They argue about who should do the shopping. Who should do the gardening, who should do the—” She whacked a hand over her mouth. “Oh, man,” she mumbled. “Talk about oversharing. I’m always doing that. My therapist says my filters don’t work properly.” She dropped her hand. “What I probably should have said is that I’m staying with my grandmother for a little while and she likes to plan enriching activities for Saturdays. She doesn’t have a TV, let alone Wi-Fi, and certainly doesn’t believe in getting takeout. We’re talking liver and onions for dinner on all days ending with a Y.”
    Buzz winced. “Holey pajamas. That is all kinds of miserable.”
    She gave him a quizzical look. “Holey pajamas? Is that a well-known phrase in this part of the world?”
    â€œIt’s one of my mum’s sayings.” Buzz felt heat creep into his cheeks. He had no idea why he’d said it out loud. “Where’s your home normally, then?” he asked quickly.
    â€œNew York. The Big Apple. The Melting Pot. New Amsterdam until 1664,” she replied. “Ever been?”
    Buzz shook his head. His dad hated leaving Crowmarsh, which meant most holidays were spent camping in Tangley Woods. “I’d love to go, though. So many people. So much to do. I bet you never get bored there.”
    The girl leaned