The Mystery of the U.F.O.

Table of Contents

 

Cam stood at the corner. She faced the park.

“This is where I first saw the U.F.O.s,” Cam said.

“Sometimes, if I stand where I first saw something, it helps me remember.”

Cam closed her eyes. She said,
“Click.”
Then she said, “I see it! It’s a small tree between two evergreens. Come on, Eric. Let’s go there and take a look. Maybe the U.F.O.s left something behind.”

“Something,” Eric said, “or someone.”

 

 

DON’T FORGET ABOUT THE YOUNG CAM JANSEN
SERIES FOR YOUNGER READERS!

PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by Penguin Group
Penguin Young Readers Group,
345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2
Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

 

First published in the United States of America by The Viking Press, 1980
Published by Puffin Books, 1991
Reissued 1997
This edition published by Puffin Books,
a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2004

 

Text copyright © David A. Adler, 1980
Illustrations copyright © Susanna Natti, 1980
All rights reserved

 

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE 1991 PUFFIN BOOKS EDITION
UNDER CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 90-53368

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-07607-1

 

 

 

RL: 2.2

 

 

 

O
ne cold November afternoon Cam Jansen and her friend Eric Shelton were walking through town. Eric wanted to enter a photography contest. Cam was helping him look for something to photograph.

Cam picked up a crumpled potato chip bag from the street and held it over a litter basket.

“Take my picture,” she said. “You can call it ‘Local Girl Cleans Up.’ ”

“I can’t take a posed picture,” Eric told her. “You know the rules.”

Eric reached into his pocket and took out a page torn from a newspaper.

“Here it is,” Eric said, pointing to the page, “rule three.”

“I know the rules,” Cam said.

Cam closed her eyes and said,
“Click.”’
She always said, “
Click,
” when she wanted to remember something. “My mind is a mental camera,” Cam often explained, “and cameras go
click.

“Announcing our first Junior News Photography Contest,” Cam said. Her eyes were still closed. “Grand prize one hundred dollars. Entry rules. One. Only twelve-year-olds and under may enter.”

As Cam talked, Eric looked at the contest announcement in the newspaper.

“Two. Photographs must be black-and-white. Three. Photographs must be of local interest. They must not be posed. Four. All entries must be received no later than November thirtieth.”

“You did it!” Eric said. “You got every word right!”

People said Cam had a photographic memory. They meant Cam could remember an entire scene. When Cam wanted to remember something, even a detail such as how many buttons were on someone’s coat, she just looked at the photograph stored in her brain.

Cam’s real name is Jennifer. But people started calling her “The Camera” because of her photographic memory and because she said,
“Click,”
so often. Soon “The Camera” was shortened to “Cam.”

“Now check me,” Cam said. Her eyes were still closed. “I’m going to say the rules backwards.

“Thirtieth—November—than—later—no—received—be—must—entries—all—four—posed—be ...”

“Enough! Enough!” Eric said. “You’re going too fast. I can’t keep up.”

Cam opened her eyes.

“How did you do that?” Eric asked.

“I have a picture of the rules in my mind. I just read from it.”

Cam put her books and lunch box down. “It’s cold,” she said.

Cam closed the top button of her coat. She pulled down the knitted cap she was wearing until it covered the tops of her ears.

“And it’s getting dark,” Eric said. “I’m not going to find anything to photograph now. Let’s go home.”

Eric put the camera back in its case. “I’m never around when anything happens,” he complained. “And I’ll bet if I am around, either I won’t have my camera or I’ll be out of film.”

“Or,” Cam said, “you’ll forget to take the lens cap off.”

Cam and Eric often spent time together. They were in the same fifth-grade class and lived next door to each other.

“If it wasn’t for your hair,” Cam’s mother often teased, “I’d think you and Eric were twins.”

Cam had what people called bright red hair, even though it was more orange than red. Eric’s hair was dark brown.

Cam and Eric started walking home. They walked past a row of small stores at the edge of a shopping mall. Then they stopped at the corner and waited for the traffic light to change.

Cam and Eric looked up. A gray-and-white kitten was high in a tree. The branch she was standing on was shaking. The kitten took a step toward the end of the branch. The branch shook even more.

“I think she wants to come down,” Eric said, “but she doesn’t know how.”

Cam opened her lunch box. “I have part of a tuna sandwich in here. Maybe I can get the kitten to come down.”

Cam reached up and put a piece of tuna fish on the part of the branch closest to the trunk. The kitten saw the food and turned around carefully. The branch shook, but the kitten didn’t fall. She walked down the branch and ate the tuna fish. Cam reached out for the kitten.