Claudia and the Middle School Mystery Read online

  I turned to Shawna. For just a second, I saw something like fear in her eyes. Confused, I looked back at Mr. Zorzi.

  “One of you must have copied from the other,” he said. He was looking straight at me.

  Did you ever hear the expression “my blood ran cold?” Well, that’s what happened to me. The second he said that, I felt like there were icicles in my veins. I shivered. Then, just as suddenly, I felt hot all over, and I knew my face must have turned bright red. I just couldn’t believe what Mr. Zorzi was saying.

  Shawna spoke up right away. “Mr. Zorzi, you’re not my regular teacher, so you don’t know me that well.” I turned to look at her, feeling like I was in the middle of a dream. Shawna went on. “If you did, you’d know that I would never cheat on a test.” She sounded so sure of herself.

  Mr. Zorzi looked closely at her and then nodded. “You can go, Shawna,” he said. She gathered her books together and left the room without looking at me.

  I stood with my head down, trying to understand what was happening. I felt like a complete jerk. Why couldn’t I have spoken up like Shawna did? Of course, I knew right away that she must have copied my paper. I knew for sure that I hadn’t cheated. But there was no way that Mr. Zorzi — or any teacher, for that matter — would take my word against hers.

  Shawna is a really good student — in everything but math. But even in our remedial math class, she usually gets the best grades. She always studies hard for tests. Shawna is also incredibly popular. She has this huge group of friends, she’s in the Drama Club (and always gets the leading roles in their plays), and she’s a member of the Pep Squad. Miss Stoneybrook Middle School, that’s Shawna.

  And who was I? Good old Claudia “C-student” Kishi. Of course Mr. Zorzi assumed I was the one who had cheated. Why shouldn’t he? I stopped myself. Wait a minute. He shouldn’t! So I wasn’t the best student in the history of the world. I was honest, at least. I’d never even thought of cheating on a test!

  “Mr. Zorzi,” I said. “I know this doesn’t look good. But there must be some explanation! There’s no way I would ever —”

  But Mr. Zorzi interrupted me. “Claudia,” he said gently, “I’ve seen your record, and I know you must be tired of having to work so hard in order to get passing grades in your classes.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “But looking at somebody else’s paper isn’t the answer.”

  “But Mr. Zorzi,” I said. “I didn’t —”

  He held up his hand. “I’m sorry, Claudia, but I’m going to have to talk to the principal about this.” He frowned. “Cheating is serious business.”

  As if I didn’t know.

  Mr. Zorzi went on. “And he’ll probably want to let your regular math teacher know, just so that everyone can be aware of the incident.”

  I nodded miserably. I felt like a shipwreck victim, drifting away on a tiny rubber raft, helpless to do anything but watch as the ship tilted and then — whooosh! — went down.

  But Mr. Zorzi wasn’t finished. “And, of course, the principal will be calling your parents.”

  The tiny rubber raft sprang a leak and sank. It was all over. I couldn’t even begin to think about how my parents would react to a phone call like that.

  Suddenly I felt very, very tired. I could see that there was no point in trying to say anything else to Mr. Zorzi. He had his mind made up. He wasn’t being mean about it or anything — I think just about any teacher would have acted the same way, dismissing Shawna and putting the blame on me. After all, why would Shawna cheat? She wasn’t the one who got C’s in all her subjects.

  “Claudia?” Mr. Zorzi asked softly. I looked up. I’d been lost in a fog for a minute. “You can go now,” he said.

  I gathered my books to my chest. Then I glanced at my math test, lying there on the desk. Obviously, I wasn’t supposed to take it with me. Mr. Zorzi needed it for evidence.

  I walked out of the room without saying a word. I was in a complete daze. Somehow I found my way to my locker. I leaned against it for a moment with my eyes closed. I didn’t feel like crying — I didn’t feel anything at all. I was numb.

  Finally, I opened my locker and put my math book away. I never wanted to see it again.

  I can’t really remember much about the rest of the day — only that it was probably the worst one I’ve ever spent in school. And that includes the day I went back to school a few days after Mimi died, when everyone was afraid to speak to me. That was bad, but this was worse.

  I spent my lunch hour in the girls’ room, not wanting to see any of my friends. Luckily, I didn’t have any classes with Stacey for the rest of the day. She would have taken one look at me and known something was wrong.

  I knew I’d call her that night and tell her all about it. After all, she was my best friend. And I could count on her to tell the others, so I wouldn’t have to. I knew she’d be nice about it — supportive and all that — but boy, did I wish I didn’t have to tell anyone. If only it had never happened.

  What a day! I felt like I had been on a roller coaster. I’d started off so excited, and here I was at the end of the day, feeling more miserable than I’d ever felt before. All I could think was, If this is what I get for studying, I may never crack a book again.

  Stacey did have a pretty wild time at the Pikes’ that afternoon. It was the same day I’d been accused of cheating, but luckily she didn’t even know about that yet. She had enough on her hands as it was.

  As Stacey said, it’s never calm at the Pikes’. I told you that Mallory had a big family, but let me introduce them all just so you get the whole picture.

  Mallory’s the oldest. She’s eleven and kind of quiet (at least in relation to the rest of the Pikes) and … well, I’ve already told you a lot about her. After Mal come the triplets — Byron, Adam, and Jordan. They’re ten. And if you think that one ten-year-old boy can be a noisy handful, you should try sitting for three at a time! Actually, Byron’s kind of sensitive and a little calmer than the others — but Jordan and Adam make up for it by being extremely wild.

  Then, after the triplets, there’s Vanessa. She’s nine, and she thinks she’s Emily Dickinson or something. She wants to be a poet, and she goes around speaking in rhyme half the time. Then there’s Nicky, who’s eight. He longs to be old enough to play with the triplets, but unfortunately they leave him out of things too often. Most of the time, Nicky ends up hanging around with Margo. She’s seven, and she’s a pretty good kid. And then, finally, there’s Claire, the baby of the family. She’s five, and she seems to be in a permanent “silly” phase. She loves to play “pretend,” and she generally refers to people as “silly-billy-goo-goo’s.”

  So this is what Stacey saw when she arrived at the Pikes’: Mallory was dashing out the door, trying to be on time for a sitting job of her own. She barely had time to say hello to Stacey. Mrs. Pike was trying to round up Margo, Nicky, and Vanessa for a trip to the mall, but no sooner would she have all three of them in the car than one would jump out, claiming to have forgotten something that he or she desperately needed.

  “Hi, Stacey,” said Mrs. Pike with a sigh. “Thanks for being on time. I know I must be crazy to take all three of them clothes shopping at once, but at least it’s better than taking everyone!”

  Stacey tried for a moment (she told me later) to picture a trip to the mall with all eight Pikes. The image was too horrible to think about. She smiled at Mrs. Pike. “Why don’t you just stay with the others, and I’ll get Vanessa,” she said.

  She went into the house and found Vanessa in the living room, searching through a huge box of toys, games, and other stuff. “Vanessa,” she said, “your mother is waiting for you. Better get going!”

  Vanessa looked up. “My green notebook I must find,” she said, “for I have a special poem in mind.”

  “Not now, Vanessa,” Stacey said, smiling. “Try to remember it, and you can write it down when you get back.” She walked Vanessa out the door and then waved as Mrs. Pike backed down the driveway
.

  Suddenly, Stacey sensed someone behind her. She turned, and saw three someones — the triplets. Each of them was making a different gruesome face. Claire stood nearby, giggling.

  “Hey, you guys!” said Stacey. “Nice faces! What if they stay that way?” They laughed, knowing that she was teasing. Then, just as Stacey was about to suggest that they go outside to play since it was such a nice day (and since they seemed a little wound up), Adam announced that they were going to play baseball in the backyard.

  “And you can’t come!” he said to Claire, sticking out his tongue.

  “I don’t care, Adam-silly-billy-goo-goo,” she answered. “Me and Stacey are going to play hopstotch.”

  “It’s hopscotch, you dummy,” said Jordan.

  “Jordan,” said Stacey. “Be nice!” But she knew he didn’t really mean it. “Okay, have fun, guys,” she said, waving them into the backyard.

  Then she turned to Claire. “Hopscotch?” she asked.

  “Can we?” asked Claire. “Please? Margo never plays hopstotch with me anymore.”

  “Sure, Claire,” said Stacey. “Let’s find some chalk.”

  They found some pink chalk in the toy box and went out to the driveway to draw the board. Stacey started right in, drawing the first three boxes stacked on top of each other, then a fourth and fifth side-by-side stacked on top of them.

  “No, Stacey!” said Claire. “You’re not doing it right.” She pointed at one of the lines Stacey had drawn, which was a little crooked.

  Stacey tried to be patient. Claire always needed to have things done “just so,” and sometimes it took a long time until she was satisfied. “Okay,” said Stacey. “Look, I’ll fix that line like this, and then you can fill in the numbers. Can you make a one here and a two here?”

  Claire’s a pretty smart kid (all the Pikes are) and she knows her numbers really well. She and Stacey worked on the board for quite awhile, Stacey drawing the boxes and Claire filling in the numbers. Finally, it was done.

  They couldn’t start to play, though — not until Claire had found a special “lucky” stone to toss down, and helped Stacey find just the right one, too. Then she went through an elaborate ritual to decide who got the first turn.

  At last, the game began. Stacey threw down her stone and hopped. When she’d finished her turn (of course, she’d pretended to slip so that her turn wouldn’t last forever and Claire wouldn’t get even more impatient than she already was), Claire threw down her stone. She didn’t like where it landed, and she tried to get Stacey to let her throw again, but Stacey wouldn’t let her. (Mean old Stacey!)

  Then, Claire began to hop. Hop, hop … CRASH! Claire went tumbling over the neatly drawn squares. Stacey held her breath. Sometimes if you don’t make a big deal about a fall, the kid won’t, either. But then Claire began to bawl.

  Stacey ran over to where she lay and took a look at the knee Claire was pointing to. This wasn’t a false alarm. She’d skinned it pretty badly. And she’d skinned the other knee, too — and also one of her hands.

  Stacey looked over to where the triplets were playing ball. They were so absorbed in their game that they’d barely noticed Claire crying. “Adam! Jordan! Byron!” Stacey yelled. “I’m taking Claire inside to clean her up. Don’t go anywhere without telling me first, okay?” They nodded and kept on tossing the ball around.

  Then Stacey scooped up Claire and took her inside. She washed out the scrapes as gently as she could, while Claire gave her careful directions through her sobs. “Now put on some thirst-aid cream and then a bandage,” said Claire. Stacey followed orders, rummaging in the medicine cabinet to find the first-aid cream.

  Claire was so interested in the bandaging procedure that she’d begun to forget how much her hand and knees hurt. Her sobbing had slowed to a sniffle as Stacey applied the last bandage.

  Just then, Stacey heard a loud SMASH from downstairs. “What —” she said. She realized immediately that the triplets had managed to break something. She ran down the stairs, Claire hobbling after her, and out the door.

  There were all three boys crowded around one of the basement windows. Their bat and a pile of gloves lay on the ground, but the ball was nowhere in sight.

  Stacey put her hands on her hips. “Okay, which one of the wrecking crew is responsible for this?” she asked. The triplets looked at each other, then looked back at Stacey. All three shrugged in unison.

  “What’s going on?” asked Stacey. “All I asked was which one of you did it.”

  The triplets shrugged again. Then Byron spoke up. “It’s like this movie we saw,” he said. “The Three Musketeers. All for one …” he started, and then Jordan and Adam joined in, “and one for all!”

  “We’ve decided to be like them. We’ll never turn in a fellow triplet again!” said Jordan.

  “Yeah!” said Adam. “We’re a team.”

  Stacey rolled her eyes. Then she cleaned up the broken glass. She made Claire and the triplets stand off to the side — she didn’t need any more injuries that afternoon.

  When Mrs. Pike got home, Stacey had to tell her what had happened. Mrs. Pike rolled her eyes, too, when she heard about the Three Musketeers. Then she questioned the boys herself.

  They still wouldn’t tell which one of them had broken the window.

  “You know, guys,” she said, “ordinarily I’d let this go. But this is the fourth window you’ve broken in the last three months. This can’t continue.” She stopped to think. “Since you won’t tell me who did it, I’m going to have to punish all three of you. You’ll be grounded until you admit which one of you is the culprit. Also, none of you will get an allowance until that window is paid for.”

  Stacey was sure that such a tough punishment would convince the triplets to abandon their pact, but they didn’t give in. They just looked at each other silently, turned around, and headed for their room. Stacey watched them go, shaking her head. At least, she thought, you never got bored sitting for the Pikes!

  And what was I doing while Stacey was sitting at the Pikes’? Well, I was sitting, too. In my room, with the door closed. I wasn’t doing homework. I wasn’t listening to the radio. I wasn’t working on my collage. I wasn’t even reading Nancy Drew. And I wasn’t eating the Cheetos that I’d hidden the day before in my sock drawer. I was just sitting.

  I was thinking, too — or at least trying to think. I still couldn’t get a handle on what had happened in math class that day, and I hadn’t figured out what to do about it. I knew I was innocent, but what I didn’t know was how to get everybody else to believe me.

  I heard Janine come home, but I didn’t call out to her. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about my problem. Luckily, she didn’t come upstairs to work on her computer, like she usually does. Instead, she started getting dinner ready in the kitchen. Good! That meant I could just keep on sitting.

  A little while later I heard my mom come home. She and Janine were talking when the phone rang. Was this the call? Was the principal on the other end, telling my mother what a horrible person I was? I didn’t even want to know. I stayed in my room.

  Soon I heard my mom and Janine talking again. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their voices sounded serious. Then my dad came home. I heard his footsteps go into the kitchen. More talking.

  What would happen if I just stayed in my room for the rest of my life? I wouldn’t go hungry for quite awhile, with all the junk food I had hidden all over the place. And I could entertain myself by reading mysteries and working on art projects. The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. I nodded to myself. Yup, staying in my room was definitely the best plan.

  “Claudia!” my mom called up the stairs. “Dinner!”

  I didn’t answer. I folded my arms and stayed where I was.

  Five minutes later she called again. “Claudia, honey!” she said. “We’re having tacos!”

  Sure enough, I could smell the popcorn-y smell of tacos warming in the oven. Tacos are one of my favorite
foods. I guess it’s because they’re about as close to junk food as you can get when you’re sitting around the table with your family. Mmm, a big crunchy taco filled with all that delicous spicy beef and then stuffed to the brim with toppings …

  Once I’d started thinking about tacos, I couldn’t stop. Suddenly I decided that staying in my room for the rest of my life might not be such a hot idea after all. “Coming!” I yelled.

  I slid into my seat at the table just as Janine brought in a big platter of tacos. On the table were a whole lot of little bowls filled with grated cheese, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and sour cream. Yum! I took a taco and started to pile on the extras. Everybody else was busy doing the same.

  Just as I was about to bite into the very stuffed, juicy, dripping mess I had created, my mom spoke up.

  “Claudia, honey,” she said. “I got a call from your principal this afternoon.”

  I gulped. Suddenly the taco I was holding didn’t look so tempting anymore.

  “Do you want to tell us what happened today?” she asked.

  I looked down at my hands, which were now folded in my lap. The taco lay forgotten on my plate. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I — I don’t know what to say,” I said. “I didn’t do it.” I swallowed hard. All of a sudden I felt like I was going to start bawling any minute.

  “We’d like to believe you, Claud,” said my father.

  They’d like to believe me? Oh, no! Even my parents thought I was a cheater. I bit my lip to keep from crying. Then Janine spoke up.

  “I do believe her. There’s no question about it. Claudia knew that material cold.” She was speaking very quickly. “I helped her study, remember?” She glanced at each of my parents in turn. “Besides, Claudia is not a cheater.”

  My parents exchanged a look. Then my mother got up and came around to where I was sitting. “I’m so sorry, honey. Janine’s right. I don’t know how I could have ever thought —” she said, as she hugged me tight. And I hugged her, working hard to hold in my tears.