Fabulous Five 027 - The Scapegoat Read online

  "Sounds like quite a chap," agreed Eleanore, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Did you go with him very long?"

  "No, not really," replied Christie, blushing. "We were just starting to date, and I got grounded by my parents for breaking curfew. He also told me some fibs. I think he feels really bad about it now."

  "I'd take a baron over a fish any day," commented Nicki.

  "Baron?" asked Christie.

  "Connie's father's a baron," said Phoebe.

  "Wow!" exclaimed Eleanore. "I knew the Farrells were some kind of cousins to the queen, but I didn't know Connie's father was a baron."

  "Does that make Connie a baron, too?" asked Christie.

  "The way it works is, Connie will inherit the title from his father," explained Phoebe.

  Baron Conrad Farrell, thought Christie. It sounded awesome! I've been turning down dates with a future baron. Melanie would absolutely kill me if she ever found out.

  During study hall that morning Christie returned the science books she had checked out of the library and picked up two more. She crossed her fingers and hoped that she'd find an idea for her science project in one of them. All she needed was one idea that was special. She sighed. If she didn't find it soon, she wouldn't have time to build it for the competition.

  Christie was sure the headmistress and Miss Woolsey would be fair judges, but she doubted very much that Miss Finney would give Christie a high score, no matter how good her project was. One bad score and she wouldn't have a chance.

  Christie frowned as she thought about her science teacher. There's got to be a reason why she doesn't like me. If I could only figure it out, maybe I could do something about it.

  Maybe Miss Finney thinks I'm not a serious student. But I turn in all my homework. I ask questions in class. I even showed everyone that optical illusion, but she said that was just a parlor trick. Christie sighed in frustration.

  As she opened one of the books, a thought flashed into her mind. Miss Finney often talked about Oxford University so she probably went to school there.

  That's it! Christie hit herself on the side of the head with the heel of her hand. For some reason Miss Finney didn't think Christie was serious about school. Christie would just have to tell her she had always wanted to go to a great university. Now that she was finding out about Oxford, it was the school she wanted to go to. She even hoped someday to get a Rhodes scholarship to go there. Maybe then Miss Finney would look at Christie's records and see how good her grades had always been.

  She smiled and began flipping through the book. Having a plan to solve her problem made her feel a lot better.

  The first thing Miss Woolsey did in class was hand back math assignments from the day before.

  Christie couldn't help grinning when she got her paper. She had gotten an A+. That shows I'm not totally stupid. If Miss Finney only knew Christie was making A's in all her other subjects.

  As usual Miss Woolsey paced up and down between the aisles as she taught. When she came to Christie's desk, she frowned at the new science books Christie had. The teacher looked at her for a moment and then continued her lecture.

  At the end of the class Miss Woolsey said, "I assume everyone has chosen a science project and is progressing satisfactorily with its development."

  Christie knew the teacher was looking at her when she said it. She wanted to slink down into her seat. Had Miss Woolsey guessed that she hadn't made up her mind on a project yet? Christie gathered her things and hurried out of the room before Miss Woolsey could say anything to her.

  Christie's elation at getting a good grade in math was blown away when Miss Finney gave back the tests in science. Christie had gotten a C. And after all the studying I did, she thought.

  "Whew!" whispered Becca, pretending to wipe perspiration from her forehead. "Would you believe I passed? And I hadn't even studied." She showed Christie her paper. Becca had gotten a C-. "It's not the best grade I ever got," admitted Becca, grinning. "But I'll take it."

  Christie gave her a smile of encouragement and then started searching through her own test to see why she hadn't done better. Miss Finney had taken off points for handwriting and grammar. On a science test! Christie couldn't believe it. There was hardly anything wrong with Christie's answers, but there were points taken off all over the page.

  She looked at Miss Finney, who was explaining something about the test to Sarah Pike. With a C and a D-, Christie still didn't have any decent grades in science. And what could she expect to get on her next homework assignment or test? Or the science competition? More of the same!

  Tears welled up in Christie's eyes. There was no way she could talk to Miss Finney about wanting to go to Oxford University. At that moment there was no way she could talk to Miss Finney about anything.

  CHAPTER 9

  Christie crossed the small green park that gave her street its name, Queen's Pudding Square. The park was bounded on three sides by streets that formed a horseshoe. Four shade trees and a bench gave it a cozy feeling.

  Mrs. Mansfield was sitting on her front steps, warming herself in the sun. Her cat, Agatha, slinked along the walk toward Christie.

  "Hi, Mrs. Mansfield," Christie called, scratching Agatha behind her ears.

  "Hi, darlin'," Mrs. Mansfield called back.

  Christie trotted up her steps and dug in her purse for her key. She was glad her parents wouldn't be home from work yet. It would be hard for her to cover up her unhappiness, and they would want to know what was wrong.

  The day's mail lay on the floor inside the door, where it had fallen when the postman shoved it through the mail slot. Christie scooped it up and carried it to the kitchen.

  Sorting through it quickly, she found a letter from Melanie and put it aside. Next she went to the refrigerator to read her mother's note.

  Christie,

  The chicken cacciatore is in the Crockpot. Turn it up to medium, and make a salad. Thanks!

  Love,

  Mom

  Christie followed the instructions and then took her books and Melanie's letter to her room.

  She loved getting letters from her friends in The Fabulous Five. Even though the other girls were thousands of miles away, she still felt close to them. If only they were here for me to talk to now, thought Christie. Things would be a lot better.

  She opened Melanie's letter.

  Dear Christie,

  I miss you SO much. When are you coming home?

  If I only knew, thought Christie.

  Things are about the same at Wacko Junior High. Dull, dull, dull.

  Shane Arrington brought Igor to Bumpers the other day after school. Mr. Matson said it was okay if Shane didn't let Igor on the table. I guess Mr. Matson remembers the fuss my grandmother made about having an iguana in his restaurant. Shane said Igor was thinking about writing his life story and wanted to get out and be stimulated by people. He had Igor dressed in a little beret with a scarf around his neck. I bet if Shane had sunglasses that fit Igor, he would have put them on him, too. Shane is absolutely crazy!

  Chase told me he got a letter from you, but he wouldn't let me read it, which reminds me of something terrible. Hold on to your seat. I saw that rat Tammy Lucero walking with Chase in the school hall. Later he was sitting with her and the rest of The Fantastic Foursome at Bumpers. Beth and I told him he was a traitor, but he said he was just talking to Tammy.

  We think Tammy is after Chase! We're going to have a Fabulous Five meeting and see if we can come up with a plan to sabotage her. Count on us to protect your interests, Christie.

  Christie put the letter in her lap. Tammy Lucero was after Chase Collins!

  "Tammy really is a rat," Christie said through clenched teeth. "As soon as I'm gone, she tries to take over the guy I like."

  Tammy and her friends in The Fantastic Foursome had caused The Fabulous Five trouble ever since both groups had started the seventh grade. Laura McCall was their ringleader. Melissa McConnell and Funny Hawthorne were the other members. Tammy w
as small and dark-haired, and had large brown eyes. She was also a big gossip.

  Chase wouldn't fall for Tammy . . . or would he? Christie had to admit that Tammy was pretty. She could also be disgustingly sweet when she wanted to. Leave it to Tammy to make my life even more messed up than it is, thought Christie. I bet Tammy's blinking her big eyes at Chase and hanging all over him.

  Christie clenched her hands into tight fists. What could she do when she was so far away? Nothing. And what could her friends in The Fabulous Five do to help her? Probably nothing, too. Christie wiped away a tear that had started down her cheek.

  After dinner Mrs. Fitzhugh called from across the courtyard to ask if Christie would look after Jenny for an hour while she and her husband went out to shop. Christie suspected Mr. and Mrs. Fitzhugh really wanted to get away from their active three-year-old for a while. It was a school night, but since it was for only an hour, Christie said she would.

  "Walter and I appreciate ever so much your minding Jenny on such short notice," said Mrs. Fitzhugh as she and her husband were getting ready to leave. "It's wonderful that we have someone we can trust who's so near."

  Jenny's mother was tall and slender, and her hair and clothes were very fashionable. Mr. Fitzhugh wore horn-rimmed glasses and suspenders, and Christie had never seen him without a white shirt and bow tie. He very seldom said anything except "How'd ja do?" to Christie. They were very meticulous, professional-looking people.

  "Jenny's upstairs," said Mrs. Fitzhugh. "If it's possible, I'd appreciate it if you'd get her to finish her milk. You do have a way with the child."

  When they had gone, Christie started upstairs, calling, "Here, puppy! Here, puppy!" Puzzled, Christie went up the stairs.

  She opened the door to Jenny's room. "Here, puppy." No answer. She looked under the bed. Jenny wasn't there.

  Then she noticed Jenny's stuffed animals piled in the corner next to her toy box. Aha! thought Christie, smiling. She got down on her hands and knees and put her ear against the toy box. Did she hear something wiggling inside?

  "Here, puppy," she whispered. She raised the lid of the toy box slowly.

  "HISSS! SPAAAT!" Some of the stuffed animals next to Christie went flying, and Jenny jumped out at her.

  "Eeek!" cried Christie, dropping the lid with a bang.

  Jenny arched her back like an angry cat and swung her hand like a paw. "Psssst!"

  Putting her hand against her chest to slow her heartbeat, Christie said firmly, "Jenny Fitzhugh, don't you do that again!"

  The three-year-old's face lit up with a smile that spread from cheek to cheek. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her clothes were wrinkled. No one would ever have suspected that she was the Fitzhughs' child.

  "Why didn't you come when I called?" Christie reprimanded.

  "You were calling a puppy," responded Jenny. "I'm a kitty."

  Christie looked at the impish face in front of her. "Since when did you start being a kitty?" she asked, pulling the little girl to her.

  "Two hunnert, one-fifty, million ago," said Jenny, looking very serious.

  "Well, little kitty," Christie said, "why don't we go downstairs and have a saucer of milk?"

  "Mmmm!" Jenny licked her lips.

  After Jenny had finished her milk, she sat cross-legged in her chair, pretending to lick her paws. Christie couldn't help smiling at the three-year-old. With Jenny's great imagination, she'll probably be an actress, like Beth Barry, Christie thought. I've got to remember to tell Beth about the things that Jenny does.

  Christie gave Jenny her bath, put her to bed, and had just settled down in the living room with her homework when the phone rang. It was Connie.

  "I rang your flat, and your mum gave me the number where you're minding," he explained. "Has Jenny bitten your leg yet?" Connie had met Jenny at the Winchells' open house and knew about her dog act.

  "No." Christie laughed. "But she tried to scratch me. Jenny has decided she's a kitten now, instead of a puppy."

  Connie chuckled. "I've a message for you from someone," he said.

  Davey? Charlie? Christie wondered. "Who?" she asked.

  "Rigel. He wants to know when you're going to visit him again."

  It was Christie's turn to chuckle. "I haven't been asked."

  "Well, Rigel would be mad at me if I didn't ask you and he found out, wouldn't he? Can you go riding Saturday? My father and I could pick you up on the way to our place in the country." Then he added quickly, "It's not a date, though, you understand. So don't say no."

  Christie smiled at the telephone. That was true. It wasn't as if it were a real date, she told herself. It's more like riding her bike back home with some boy she was friends with. "It sounds like fun," she said finally. "What time will you pick me up?"

  CHAPTER 10

  "Miss Winchell, I'd like to talk to you for a moment," said Miss Woolsey as the bell rang, ending the homeroom period the next morning.

  Denise gave Christie a look of sympathy as she passed her on the way out the door.

  "Please sit down," Miss Woolsey said, indicating the chair next to her desk.

  Christie had an ominous feeling. Miss Woolsey obviously had something serious on her mind.

  After the other students had left, the teacher began, "I've noticed that you're not doing well in science, Miss Winchell. As a matter of fact, you have a D average. This surprises me, to say the least, since you appear to be doing well in all your other classes. You haven't been gathering wool when you should have been paying attention, have you?"

  "No, Miss Woolsey. I've been trying very hard."

  "Have you been keeping up with your assignments?"

  Christie looked the teacher directly in the eyes. "Yes, ma'am, I have. Every single one of them."

  The firm way that Christie answered seemed to reassure Miss Woolsey. "How is your project for the science competition progressing?" the teacher asked. "What have you selected?"

  "I haven't decided on one yet," answered Christie truthfully. "I want a really good one and haven't found one I like."

  "Well, I suggest that you settle on one soon, Miss Winchell, or there won't be time for you to complete it. I also strongly suggest that you talk to Miss Finney about your progress in her class. I've known Miss Finney for quite some time. As a matter of fact we grew up together. She's a dedicated teacher. I'm sure she can help you solve your problem."

  Christie nodded. She wanted to say, Miss Finney is my problem, but Miss Woolsey wouldn't understand. How could she when Christie didn't understand it herself?

  "Maintain your position in line, girls!" Miss Finney called as the science class stood at the entrance to the Tower of London. Mrs. Woodruff was talking to the attendant at the gate.

  Christie looked up at the tall, gray, stone walls. The Tower of London was really a huge fort. To her left, one wall topped by parapets stretched farther than a football field. On the right, the tower was bordered by the Thames River. There were narrow windows in the towers at the corners, through which defenders could shoot arrows. Guards wearing red coats, black pants, and tall bearskin hats stood at each side of the gate.

  When Mrs. Woodruff waved the girls through the gate, Christie hurried to stay near the teacher. She wanted to make sure Miss Finney saw how interested she was in everything.

  She felt a tingle run up and down her spine as she followed the others into the passageway between the outer and inner walls of the fortress. It was eerie knowing that she was walking where so many people had been imprisoned or killed.

  The first place they stopped was next to the Bloody Tower. Christie shivered, and hugged herself. This was where twelve-year-old King Edward and his nine-year-old brother Richard, Duke of York, had been murdered. Christie had read that some people claimed to have seen two small ghosts in white nightgowns walking hand in hand in the halls of the tower.

  "Does anyone know the name of this structure?" asked Mrs. Woodruff.

  "The Bloody Tower," answered Christie quickly. She was glad she h
ad been there before and had also learned so much about London in Mr. Dracovitch's class.

  "Correct," said Mrs. Woodruff.

  "Notice the way in which the builders hand-cut the stones and fit them perfectly," said Miss Finney, pointing at the walls. "They did this without the aid of our modern tools."

  "This gate is a very good example of how things have changed over the years," continued Mrs. Woodruff, stopping in front of a wide archway. Christie could see the river on the other side. "At one time, the Thames came up to this gate during high tide. Does anyone know what the gate's purpose was?"

  "It's called the Traitor's Gate," volunteered Christie. "They used to bring prisoners through it in boats at night."

  Miss Finney didn't look pleased that Christie was the one to answer again.

  They continued through the passageways, stopping periodically while Miss Finney or Mrs. Woodruff explained something, most of which Christie already knew. Christie listened intently, anyway, to show her interest. It didn't hurt to hear it all one more time.

  Finally they stopped to rest on benches near the building in the center of the grounds. Christie took a seat next to Miss Finney.

  "The Tower of London is one of my favorite places in London, Miss Finney," Christie said. "My ancestors were English, you know."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes," she continued. "Winchell is an English name. I'm glad you brought us to the tower. There's so much to learn here."

  Miss Finney didn't respond.

  "Actually, I think everything about England is fascinating." Christie desperately tried to find something that would interest the teacher. "There's so much history here. And as you said, you can see the way our ancestors did things years ago.

  "When Mr. Dracovitch, my science teacher at Wakeman Junior High, found out my family was moving, he made sure our class learned lots of things about England." Christie looked at Miss Finney. She didn't see any signs of encouragement, so she hastily decided to change the subject.