Sink or Swim Read Online Free Page B

swimming team, starting with they make you go into the deep end and I could drown.”
    â€œYou’re taller than the deep end, Charlie,” Sam chides. “I strongly doubt that you would drown.”
    â€œA person could drown in five inches of water if they hit their head on the side of the pool and got knocked unconscious,” I reply. “It happens every day.”
    We veer left at the fork at Willow Hollow Road and turn right onto Maple Drive. Only six more blocks to 442 Lonesome Lane. I can smell my mom’s delicious cooking from here.
    â€œLet me get this straight,” Sam begins. “Muchnick made you join the swimming team because he thinks you stole his sourdough bread?”
    â€œIn a nutshell, yes,” I reply.
    â€œThat doesn’t make any sense!” Lucille exclaims.
    â€œSince when did Principal Muchnick ever make any sense?” I say. “Doc Craverly thinks that if I join a team I’ll feel more productive and improve my self-image and stop stealing stuff.” I duck to avoid getting hit in the head by a branch.
    â€œBut you’re not a thief,” Sam reasons. “You are so innocent it hurts.”
    â€œTell it to Craverly, Sam,” I say. “Quick. Before I drown.”
    â€œAll we have to do is apprehend the
real
thief,” Sam explains. “And when we do, everybody will know you didn’t do anything bad, and you won’t have to be on the swimming team. Kaboom.”
    â€œHow come you’re so sure there weren’t three thieves?” Lucille asks. “One for each crime.”
    â€œIntuition,” Sam answers. “Pure and simple. There hasn’t been a robbery in our neighborhood for as long as I can remember. And now suddenly three different people decide to turn criminal all in one morning?” Sam shakes his head. “Doesn’t make sense. The one-perp theory is much more likely.” Sam abruptly makes a left turn onto Cedar Street.
    â€œWhere are you going, Sam?” Lucille asks. “Charlie’s house is that way.” She points in the other direction.
    â€œWe’re going to Mr. Dieterly’s fish store to search for clues,” Sam says. “While they’re still fresh.”
    We link arms and march into town together. I am so tall I have to stoop down to reach. I don’t mind. Clearing my good name and getting me off the swimming team is my idea of a great way to spend an afternoon. Soon we reach Dieterly’s Delectable Denizens of the Deep, site of this morning’s infamous Salmon Robbery.
    Joe Jefferson, daytime anchor for W-H-A-T, the local news channel, spots us and rushes over with his crew to do an impromptu interview. He smooths his already perfectly arranged wavy brown hair. While one assistant applies powder to his forehead, the other brushes away invisible pieces of lint from his broad shoulders.
    â€œTell the audience at home, kids, do you have any idea who might have committed this dreadful crime?” Joe Jefferson intones in his deep and professionally phony announcer voice. “What about you, young . . . uh. Young . . . uh . . .” He is staring at me intently, trying to figure out what to call me. He pokes his microphone in what passes for my face. “Who do you think did it?”
    I look at Lucille, dumbfounded. Sam takes over the role of designated spokesperson for our little group. “We don’t know anything about any robberies. We were out enjoying the beautiful autumn weather, and we just wandered over to buy some fish. For dinner. Because we love fish. Don’t we?”
    â€œYes, we do.” Lucille jumps right in. “Fish is both healthy and delicious. It’s just about our favorite food.” She smiles. “It’s easily digestible and goes especially well with a green vegetable or any member of the pasta family, and um—”
    Lucille stops abruptly because Sam has just given