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2 Copyright 2007 Carole Marsh/ Gallopade International All rights reserved. First Edition Ebook edition Copyright 2011 Carole Marsh Mysteries and its skull colophon are the property of Carole Marsh and Gallopade International. Published by Gallopade International/Carole Marsh Books. Printed in the United States of America. Managing Editor: Sherry Moss Senior Editor: Janice Baker Assistant Editor: Mike Kelly Cover Design and Illustrations: Yvonne Ford Gallopade International is introducing SAT words that kids need to know in each new book tht we publish. The SAT words are bold in the story. Look for this special logo beside each word. PEPSI is a registered trademark of Pesi-Cola Co. NIKE is a registered trademark of NIKE, Inc. JELL-O is a registered trademark of Kraft Foods, Inc. Post-it is a registered trademark of 3M. ipod is a registered trademark of Apple Inc. Cover images: Ralf Kraft. Image from BigStockPhoto.com, Slavoljub Pantelic. Image from BigStockPhoto.com Gallopade is proud to be a member and supporter of these educational organizations and associations: American Library Association American Booksellers Association International Reading Association National Association for Gifted Children The National School Supply and Equipment Association The National Council for the Social Studies Museum Store Association Association of Partners for Public Lands This book is a complete work of fiction. All events are fictionalized, and although the names of real people are used, their characterization in this book is fiction. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials. Your support of the author s rights is appreciated.

3 Prologue Peter Post sprang out of bed and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. A second later, he realized the music flying around inside his head was coming from the ipod clipped to his boxers. The sun radiating through the window hadn t woken Peter. The aroma of Swedish pancakes coming from the kitchen had invaded his nostrils. He didn t like Swedish pancakes, but his mom did. If she was making them, it meant only one thing. He snatched his shirt and pants off the chair and stumbled over a pile of clothes. When his right foot landed on his football, he surfed across the room, right past his new poster of a blond James Bond and his old poster of Albert Einstein. He fell into his desk, knocking over his alarm clock and a convoy of Hot Wheels cars. He caught the clock a second before it crashed to the floor. The Hot Wheels landed safely on another pile of clothes near the desk. Peter yanked on his jeans and t-shirt and scooped his worn pair of Nikes off the floor. Peter was tall for his age and had inherited his dad s curious boyish nature, too. But his dark hair and

4 mischievous sky-blue eyes came from his mom. This morning his hair poked out in different directions like a character from an episode of Pokémon. As he left the room, he tapped the doorpost with his hand and noticed the Post-It note his younger sister, Piper, had left. It read, Breakfast at eight, it s your fate, so don t be late. As Peter rushed down the stairs, he hopped on one foot, and then the other, pulling on his shoes. He pitched over and fell the last couple of stairs, landing on his feet like a cat. He ran into the kitchen and froze. Piper sat at the table digging into a large bowl of Post Toasties. There was a plate of half-eaten Swedish pancakes on the table, but his mom wasn t there. Tell me I m not late? he begged Piper. Suddenly, their mother walked out of the pantry with a bag of powdered sugar. She was wearing her usual baggy black sweats. One of the pink foam curlers in her jet-black hair hung by a few strands. Ready for a short road trip, Peter? she asked.

5 1 1 The Race Can too! Piper said, as her mom, Penelope Post, pulled their large SUV into the closest parking space at the only post office in Postcard, Pennsylvania. No you can t, Peter shot back. Mom glanced in the rearview mirror at her children. Okay, I ll just have to show you. Piper pursed her lips. Fine, but don t come crying to me when you lose, Peter said. Mom smiled. Peter and Piper s camaraderie was infectious. It was the same routine every few weeks when they went to the post office to drop off her shipment of designer postcards. The race to the front door was on. Piper would

6 2 Dear Alien: The Little Green Man Mystery challenge and Peter would accept. And it was Mom s job to say, Go! Peter and Piper eyeballed each other like two gunslingers ready to shoot it out. They sat on the edge of their seats, ready to bolt as soon as she gave the word. Mom pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror to straighten out the scarf covering her curlers. A Post-It note, stuck to the mirror, reminded her to pick up the extra school supplies she used to homeschool Peter and Piper. She spotted her husband, Paul Post, through the building s front window. He was stamping packages and tossing them into a roll-around bin that had the word MAIL printed in big letters on all sides. Paul was the town s postmaster. Until he had recently hired Jamie Haldeman, he had been Postcard s only postman for over five years. GO! she shouted. Like a flash, the van s side doors flew open and they were off. Peter and Piper bolted like two racehorses from their starting posts. They made it to the curb at the same time. Peter bounded over the curb onto the grass and slid

7 The Race 3 wildly for a few feet, losing precious time. Piper dashed past him and tagged the door s shiny aluminum handle. I won! I won! she squealed. You got lucky. Peter tried to hide his smile. No, I didn t. You let me win like you always do. Piper flung the door open and ran inside. Mom opened the back door of the van just as Peter appeared at her side to help carry the boxes of postcards inside. Internet sales had been good for the postcard company she d started when Peter was just three years old. You know, one day she s going to beat you fair and square, Mom said. Yeah, maybe. But when she does, she ll always wonder if she really won or if I let her win, he said with a smile. The two boxes he carried were covered in Post-It notes with addresses written on them. He opened the post office door for his mom with his free hand. You re a mischievous child, she said.