The Boy Who Cried Murder

Chapter 1

Sandra lounged back against the bark of the thick branches and chewed on her pencil, comforted by the familiar wooden taste. She was trying to write a heart-wrenching violin solo, but coming up with ideas was proving to be like trying to squeeze a dried-out lemon. No juice left, just the zest from the lemon peels, which is hardly anything. Frustrated, Sandra shoved her notebook into her bag and climbed to a higher perch in her creativity tree, hoping the change in perspective would bring something golden to mind. Instead, she only got distracted watching a nest of sparrows. But who could blame her? They were adorable! She watched them for a good five minutes before something nearly startled her out of the tree: an eleven year old boy yelling her name at the top of his lungs. Sandra looked down and saw a ginger mop of hair which she recognized as belonging to her best friend in the world, Will.

"Hey!" Sandra greeted him as she dexterously swung from branch to branch until she was on the ground beside him. "What's going on?"

Will gripped her shoulders and looked intensely into her eyes in that signature way of his. "Sandra! Thank goodness! You gotta help me!"

Sandra gently removed Will's hands. "What? Did you get in trouble with Mrs. Langley again? I warned you not to play games with her dog when she's at home!"

Will shook his head. "This is much bigger than Mrs. Langley. Come with me into the Sky Fortress, and I'll tell you."

"Oh, come on, I just got down," Sandra mumbled in a fake-annoyed way. The Sky Fortress was Will's name for the best climbable tree in the middle of Boysenberry Park. While Sandra preferred to use it as a creative space, to Will it was always a place for an imaginary adventure.

The two of them climbed the tree, Will first and Sandra following, until they reached the highest fork of branches that could support their collective weight, about fifteen feet off the ground. They settled into their usual spots opposite one another.

"Now can you tell me what this whole thing is about?" Sandra asked.

Will quickly glanced below them, to make sure they wouldn't be overheard, then said, "Listen, something's going to happen real soon. Someone is going to be murdered. I don't know who, don't know when, don't know why, but you've got to trust me on this."

"How do you know?" Sandra asked. "Is it one of your... intuitions?"

Will nodded. Sandra knew all about Will's seemingly psychic abilities; he had always had a knack for knowing things he shouldn't have known. Every time Sandra misplaced her glasses, he knew exactly where to look, and every year for his birthday he pretended to be surprised at her presents, but he already knew what they were. She didn't know why Will had this ability, but she knew he didn't really like to talk about it. And for good reason, too, considering the nature of kids at school when they received a juicy piece of gossip. Never before, though, had Will predicted something of this magnitude, and Sandra was understandably hesitant to give it credence.

"And you have no idea who did it– um, is going to do it?"

"Not only that, but I don't know who the victim is– I mean, will be," said Will, looking away. "But we've got to do something about it, or some innocent person is going to die."

"So, you're saying—"

"Help me solve the case." Will looked at her. "Please."

Sandra wanted to agree. The idea was tempting, she and Will hunting for clues together like a detective adventure from a book. But she knew it was the wrong thing to do. This wasn't some game for almost-middle schoolers, this was a real crime with terrible stakes. And it was more than the two of them would be able to handle.

She shook her head. "We should tell the police. They'll know what to do. They're the police. They can solve anything." I nearly snorted.

Will looked frightened. "But if we go to the police, I'll have to tell them about my powers. And I can't do that!"

"Please, Will. You said it yourself, some innocent person's life is at stake," Sandra pleaded.

Will sighed. "All right, let's go."

The Boysenberry County police station was only a few blocks away from the park. Sandra and Will walked there side by side, not saying much.

When they walked through the double front doors, they were greeted by jazz music playing on the overhead speakers. There was a woman in a peacoat filling out some forms in triplicate. A bored-looking police officer with a mustache was sitting at the desk, swilling the cream around in his coffee. Sandra recognized him as Sheriff Navarro. Nearby, a scrawny dark-haired teenage boy with acne was sorting through papers in a file cabinet. His police badge was extra shiny, which I knew was from him spending days and nights polishing it like a trophy.

Sandra narrowed her eyes at the latter. "Hey, Dale, glad to see your police apprenticeship is going well. You're really showing that paperwork who's boss."

Dale scowled. "Sandra, what do you want? I can't have my little sister coming in here and bothering me, because I take my work–" he flashed his police badge "–seriously."

Sandra rolled her eyes.

"Actually, we have a crime to report," said Will hesitantly.

Looking interested, Sheriff Navarro set down his coffee, revealing a mustache soaked in liquid. "Dale, take notes." Dale took out a pad and chewed-up pen. "I'm listening."

Will let out a deep breath and looked the police chief in the eye. "This may be hard to believe, but... there's going to be a murder soon. I don't know who it's going to happen to, but it is going to happen."

"And how do you know this?" the Sheriff asked.

"I have... well, I guess you could call it a psychic ability. I just know it." said Will.

Dale looked up from his notepad, and exchanged a glance with Sheriff Navarro. Then Navarro burst into hysterics, choking on his coffee. Dale only rolled his eyes.

"Kid, you're a riot!" Sheriff Navarro exclaimed.

"But I'm being serious!" Will pleaded, his face reddening to match his fiery hair.

Dale looked like he had had enough. He set down the notepad and pen and glared at them. "Alright, Sandra, I hope you and your friend enjoyed your little prank, but we have important work to do."

"In your dreams you have important work!" Sandra yelled indignantly.

"Come on, let's just go," said Will, taking hold of her arm.

Sandra gave in and accepted defeat. They began walking back to the park.

"What are we going to do now?" Sandra asked, dejected.

But Will grinned. "If the police won't help us, we've just got to do it by ourselves, you and me. Remember that time we solved the Mystery of the Missing Missives? Back in second grade?"

Sandra laughed. "Yeah, I remember! It was the janitor. He was taking them for his niece."

"So, does that mean you're in?"

"Definitely."

"Right now we have no clues, but I know how we can get some."