In the abandoned old clubhouse at the edge of Clara's yard in Brookhaven, the weather-beaten planks had heard more secrets than most grown-ups ever would. The place seemed to breathe with whispers—creaks in the floorboards, sighs in the rafters.
On this hot afternoon, five shadows stretched across the grass—four children and one dog who refused to believe he wasn't just another member of the gang.
Clara stood in the center of the yard, arms crossed tight, her sharp eyes scanning the others. She had the kind of stare that made people swallow their excuses before they even opened their mouths. Leader wasn't a title she asked for, but no one dared to challenge it.
Max sat sprawled on the grass, a half-empty bag of chips between his legs. Crumbs clung to his shirt as he spoke with his mouth full. "So… what's the big deal this time?"
In a creaky chair pulled from the clubhouse porch, Ivy bent over her journal, pencil scratching furiously. She didn't waste words; she didn't need to. The small lift of her eyebrow was enough to remind everyone she was three steps ahead.
Tom dangled upside down from the lowest tree branch, his boots threatening to slip off. Reckless, restless—he never seemed to touch the ground unless it was to leap at something headfirst.
And then there was Biscuit, Max's golden retriever, circling the yard like a storm. His tail wagged like a banner of chaos, and his nose twitched at every scrap of mystery.
Biscuit barked once, sharply, at the clubhouse door.
Clara's eyes narrowed. "See? Even the dog knows something's up."
That summer had been long and lazy. The clubhouse near Clara's yard had become their second home, a wooden fortress where they played cards, told stories, and sometimes just lay around listening to Biscuit snore.
But by now, boredom had set in.
"What should we do today?" Tom asked, swinging back and forth on the creaky old swing.
"I don't know… buy as many churros as we can?" Max said, a half-eaten snack already in his hand.
"That's not even a plan," Ivy sighed, arms crossed. "We need something fun, something real."
Clara, always the thinker, was staring out past the yard. That's when her eyes landed on a bright new billboard across the street: Brookhaven Summer Music Festival — Coming Soon!
Her face lit up. "What if… we play little detectives?"
The other three turned to her, puzzled.
"Detectives?" Tom frowned. "Like… magnifying glasses and disguises?"
"Exactly!" Clara grinned. "Think about it—at the festival, there'll be tons of people. If something mysterious happens, we'll be ready to solve it. And if we crack a real case, everyone in Brookhaven will know who we are."
"Famous kids solving mysteries?" Ivy raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a little far-fetched."
"Yeah, what if the 'case' is, like… a murder?" Tom said with mock seriousness.
Max laughed. "Relax, Sherlock. The only thing getting murdered here is my churro supply."
Biscuit barked loudly, as if casting the final vote.
"See? Even Biscuit agrees." Clara beamed.
Ivy tapped her pencil against her notebook. "Fine. I guess a mystery club sounds better than sitting around doing nothing."
"Wait, wait—club?" Max perked up, clearly having missed half the conversation. "What club?"
"The Midnight Mystery Club," Clara announced proudly. "Because mysteries are best solved after dark."
There was a pause, then three voices shouted together:
"Agreed!"
"Woof!" Biscuit barked, tail wagging furiously.
For the first time that summer, boredom didn't stand a chance.
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To be continued.