Fabulous Five 027 - The Scapegoat Page 6

  "I have?"

  "Yes, and it's wonderful! Connie, if you still want me to go to the movies with you, I'm not doing anything next Friday." Christie gulped. She hadn't meant to say that. It had just popped out.

  Connie's voice sounded serious. "Do you mean that?"

  Christie hesitated for a moment. "Yes, I do," she said softly.

  CHAPTER 13

  "I know what I'm going to make tor my science project!" Christie announced the next morning at breakfast.

  "You do?" asked her father, his coffee cup poised in front of his mouth.

  "That's great, sweetheart," said Mrs. Winchell. "What is it?"

  "It's really not an it," Christie explained. "It's a them. Connie gave me the idea when I talked to him last night."

  "Well," said her father, "tell us what they are. We're waiting with bated breath."

  Christie could hardly hold back her excitement as she told her parents about her idea.

  "I think it's supercolossal," added Christie's mother.

  "Sounds good to me," said Mr. Winchell. "I wish I'd thought of it. It also sounds like an awful lot of work."

  "I made a list of things I'm going to need," Christie told them, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. "The only thing that worries me is whether I can get everything fast enough."

  Her mother and father moved their chairs close so they could look at the list together.

  "Wow, there are a lot of things on here," commented her father. "I can pick up some of them on the way home from work."

  "And I think the British Museum might have these," said her mother. "Why don't you meet me there tomorrow after school? We'll see what they've got."

  Mr. Winchell scratched his jaw. "You're going to need some space to build this thing. I'll talk to the building custodian, Mr. Dudley, and see if he can make room for you in the basement."

  For the first time in a long time, Christie felt satisfied. She was absolutely positive no one else would have an idea like hers. Her project would definitely be unique. It might also prove something else to Miss Finney.

  "No science books, Miss Winchell?" asked Miss Woolsey, looking over her glasses at Christie.

  "No, ma'am," replied Christie. "I've finally made up my mind about my project."

  "Very good. I'm sure it will do well in the competition," said the teacher.

  "Not if Miss Finney has anything to do with it," mumbled Becca from her seat next to Christie.

  "What was that, Miss Stewart?" asked Miss Woolsey with a frown.

  Christie shook her head at Becca. She didn't want Miss Woolsey to think she couldn't handle her own problems.

  "Nothing, ma'am."

  Miss Woolsey looked back at Christie before returning to her desk.

  "You ought to tell Miss Woolsey what's going on," whispered Becca. "The way Miss Finney's treating you isn't right."

  "What can Miss Woolsey do about it?" Christie whispered back. "She's a teacher just like Miss Finney. They even grew up in the same town."

  Becca looked surprised. "They did?"

  "Yes, and Miss Woolsey thinks Miss Finney is a dedicated teacher," Christie added.

  "Well, Miss Woolsey's going to be a judge. I think she'd want everything to be fair."

  "She'll only be one of the judges," responded Christie. "Her score won't count any more than Miss Finney's."

  "It's a darn shame," said Becca.

  "Girls!" said Miss Woolsey. "If you'll recall, you're supposed to be studying."

  "Here, let me help with that, miss," volunteered Mr. Dudley. The building custodian took two of the bags Christie and her parents had brought and carried them downstairs. "I've set you up over here. Will this give you enough room to work?"

  "Oh, Mr. Dudley, this is great," Christie told him. He had put a piece of plywood across two sawhorses to form a table. A light hung from the ceiling over it. He had even placed a stool next to the table for her to sit on.

  "It looks to me as if Christie's at least going to have the biggest science project," commented Mr. Winchell after Mr. Dudley had left.

  "I just hope you can finish it in time, Christie," said her mother.

  "I've got to, Mum." Christie spoke in a determined voice.

  "Let your mum or me know if we can help you," teased her father. He was always poking fun at Christie when she said things the way the English did.

  Christie made a face at him and then shooed her parents back up the stairs. She called after them, "I'll be fine." Then she emptied the bags onto the improvised table. She put the things her mother and she had gotten at the museum on one corner so they wouldn't get lost. She'd need the cutting tools, glue, rolls of plastic, and foil first. She put the paints and all the other things in a bag and slid it under the table. Carefully she took out the drawings she had made from science books and taped them on the wall, where they'd be easy to see.

  Next she took the large sheet of Styrofoam her father had brought home and divided it into thirds. She chewed on her lip as she cut it into sections. It felt wonderful to be finally working on her project.

  "Davey said you're going to the films with Connie on Friday," said Nicki as she, Phoebe, and Christie returned their cafeteria trays. "I thought you were being true blue to your cove in the States."

  "I was afraid to turn Connie down one more time," Christie explained quietly. "He might think that I didn't like him at all. It doesn't mean we're going steady or anything."

  "You went riding with him last weekend, too, didn't you?" asked Nicki with a sly look in her eyes. "Just because you like that horse, Rigel, so much?"

  "Oh, Nicki, close your cake hole," Phoebe reprimanded her. "If Christie's going out with Connie, it's her business."

  "I just thought I'd yank her chain a little," remarked Nicki. "Look there," she added as they were passing the administration office. "What do you suppose the big meeting's about?"

  Christie glanced through the window. Mrs. Tillington, Miss Woolsey, and Miss Finney were sitting around a table. They looked serious, especially Miss Finney. She was talking loudly, but from where the girls were standing in the hall Christie couldn't quite understand what she was saying.

  "It's probably something important, like what we'll have for lunch next week," said Phoebe.

  Nicki laughed. "Yeah, they're trying to decide if it should taste like cardboard or old shoes."

  "I bet it's about the competition," offered Christie. "They're all judges."

  Nicki shrugged. "Who knows?" she added as the three girls left each other at the next hallway.

  Christie spent every spare moment that week working on her project. The first part was the hardest. She had to do a lot of bending and cutting of the Styrofoam to get it to stay in the shape she wanted.

  "Interesting," her father said one evening while he was watching her paint. "You do realize we're going to have to hire a truck to get this over to the school, don't you?"

  "Oh, Dad, it won't be that big when I get it finished. I've just got everything spread out."

  "If you say so," replied her father. "What's this for?" he asked, picking up a plastic tube she had made.

  "Guess."

  "Hmm . . . it doesn't make sense." He positioned it in different ways next to the section she was working on.

  Christie laughed. "That's because it doesn't go with this part."

  "Maybe I'd better just stay out of your way until you're finished," he said. "Remember, if there's anything I can do to help you, let me know."

  "I found out I still need these." Christie handed him a piece of paper.

  He looked at it. "You'll have them tomorrow, sir," he told her, saluting.

  Christie laughed. "And, Dad, don't rent a truck for me, just yet."

  CHAPTER 14

  Christie brushed her hair for the thousandth time, then checked her face in the mirror. Finally she decided she looked okay.

  Next she spritzed her wrists with perfume, then checked her watch. There were still fifteen minutes before Connie was
supposed to pick her up.

  She started pacing across her room. Why was she so nervous?

  She knew one of the things that was bothering her. Chase. When she'd told him she wasn't going to date anyone else, she had meant it. But now she was going out with Connie. Should she write Chase tomorrow and confess?

  But why should I feel guilty? she asked herself. Jana had seen Chase sitting with Tammy Lucero at the movies, and he hadn't said anything to Christie about that.

  Christie got the magic box out of her desk drawer. She held the picture of him wearing his swimming medals under the desk lamp so she could see it better. He was so good-looking and had a great smile. But he was also far away; she had no idea when she would see him again.

  "Christie! Connie is here!" called her father from downstairs.

  "I'll be right there," she called back. She quickly put the box back in the drawer and ran the brush through her hair one last time.

  Connie was looking up the stairs when she came down.

  "Wow! You look great," he said.

  So do you, she thought, flashing him a smile.

  Christie slid into the booth at the Montague Youth Club, and Connie sat beside her. They had met Nicki and Davey at the cinema and then came here.

  The youth club was one of the few places kids their age could go in London, besides the movies and each other's houses. There was a jukebox and a small dance floor in the center of the room. On one side were Ping-Pong tables and video games. On the other were vending machines where kids could get sodas and snacks.

  Christie had been there several times after movies. It was different from Bumpers, but still reminded her of it.

  "I thought the leading actress really botched her part," said Nicki. "I could have done a better job of acting myself."

  "You never have anything good to say about the films we go to," observed Davey. "You'd think you were an expert actress."

  "I've become a real expert on bad actors, since I've been dating you," responded Nicki. She blew the paper covering from her drinking straw at him. "Besides, I paid good money to see the blooming film, so I've got a right to criticize it."

  "It was my money, not yours," Davey told her.

  "But I'm your date, so it's still my right," said Nicki. This time she stuck her tongue out at him.

  "I've never seen two people who like to argue as much as you do," said Christie, laughing.

  "It's good for me," replied Nicki. "Helps to get the stress out of my system."

  "Yeah," Davey added. "The only trouble is, she stresses me out. Makes my head hurt."

  "He really likes my guff," said Nicki, hugging Davey's arm. "You just won't admit it, will you, love? But let's give him a break and change the subject. How are you and old Miss Finney getting along, Christie? Have you got her to love you yet?"

  "No. As a matter of fact she wouldn't even look at me in class this week. I think I'm really dead with her. Look out, folks." Christie smiled wryly. "Here comes the first F Christie Winchell ever got."

  "Geez!" exclaimed Davey. "Isn't there anyone you can talk to about it?"

  Christie shrugged. "Miss Woolsey, my homeroom teacher, knows I'm not passing. She told me to have a talk with Miss Finney and straighten things out. But things have gotten worse instead of better."

  "That's tough," replied Connie, looking at her sympathetically.

  "For some strange reason Miss Finney thinks I'm a show-off who doesn't know what she's talking about. I tried to explain to her how serious I am about making good grades and that I want to go to Oxford University. She doesn't seem to think I'm smart enough."

  "Just thinking about going to Oxford makes my head hurt," said Davey.

  Nicki looked surprised. "I thought I made your head hurt."

  "That, too," answered Davey.

  "Let's dance," said Connie, taking Christie's hand. He led her out onto the dance floor.

  "You were quiet tonight, Christie," remarked Connie as the two of them stood on her front steps. "Thinking about that dragon lady, Miss Finney?"

  "Not really. I've been thinking about other things."

  "About the guy in the States?" Connie asked. Christie nodded.

  "I guess I haven't been doing very well, if you're with me and thinking about him," he said.

  "You've been doing all right." She smiled up at Connie. "It's just that I have to figure out some things for myself."

  "Does that mean you might date me again?"

  Christie thought for a moment before answering. Then she nodded.

  Connie's grin was her reward for giving him the answer he wanted.

  Later, in her room, Christie sat on her bed for a long time, thinking. It was so hard to know what to do about Chase and Connie.

  CHAPTER 15

  "Your project looks great, Christie," said her mother. They were standing in the gymnasium at St. Margaret's on Saturday morning, where the science competition was taking place.

  Christie repositioned one of the space vehicles she had carved from balsa wood and hung from an almost invisible piece of fishing line. From a few feet away, it looked as if it were floating in the air. She checked the simple ice maker to see if it was still cooling. There was a nice frost building up on the prehistoric section of her display. It made her artificial glacier look very real.

  Christie had had to work every night for the last two weeks to finish her science project. She was thankful she wouldn't have to spend any more time down in the basement.

  She, her parents, and Mr. Dudley had moved her project to St. Margaret's the night before and set it up. When it was finished, Christie felt satisfied.

  The three sections of Styrofoam formed the land for different periods of time in England's history: the prehistoric period, the present, and the future. In the prehistoric part she had connected England to the coast of Europe. She had exposed the edge of the land to show the way the earth's crust was twisted from the pressure of the movement of the plates on its surface.

  On one side was a receding glacier with pebbles that represented boulders it was leaving behind. She had painted in rivers formed by the melting ice with silver paint, and had added trees. Miniature cave dwellers were walking from Europe to England over the land bridge and camping beside the rivers. Christie hoped this wouldn't doom her with Miss Finney. A volcano, like the one her mother had made when she was a girl, spewed red smoke. She had even put in a few dinosaurs they had gotten from the British Museum.

  Signs she had printed described different parts of the project and what they demonstrated. One told how the earth's crust moved. Another told how the ice age came and went. A different sign explained certain details of the lives of primitive people and what tools they used.

  The second part of her project showed England today—its cities and villages, highways, factories, and thatched-roof farm buildings. She had built a little nuclear plant and had used dry ice to make steam come out of its towers and the factories' chimneys. The signs on it described how England developed the energy to run things, how it produced its food, and how archaeologists dug into the ground to find things about the primitive people.

  The third part showed what Christie thought England of the future would look like. She had used plastic wrap for water in the English Channel. You could see through it to the tunnels below, which were made out of clear tubes. Cars and trains went back and forth in them between England and the rest of Europe. Little space machines circled tall buildings that were connected by walkways. Miniature rockets were on launchpads, and fountains sprayed water.

  On a large sign over her project, she had printed:

  ENGLAND AND HOW IT WORKS:

  PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE

  She had gotten the idea for the whole thing when Connie and she were talking about how the Arabs had bred horses. He had said that when you take a few good things and put them together, sometimes you come up with something extraordinary. That's when she realized that if she put several scientific ideas together, she could have a supe
rcolossal project.

  Christie had tossed and turned all night with excitement. Now everything depended on the judges, especially Miss Finney. She didn't hold out much hope, but maybe, just maybe, she'd win. She crossed her fingers for luck.

  "I like the way you built London of the future," commented her father.

  "I like the prehistoric part," said her mother. "The volcano going off in the background makes it look really primitive."

  Christie smiled at her. "Thanks for the help on that, Mum."

  "Why don't we check out the competition," suggested Mr. Winchell.

  After her parents had left, Christie stepped back so she could see all of her project at one time. Size might not matter in the judging, but her project certainly was big.

  Mr. Dracovitch had told her class there wasn't one most important thing about the earth. It was the way everything worked together that counted. In her mind Christie had dedicated the project to him. She was satisfied she had done her best, and it was pretty darn good.

  Christie looked around the gymnasium. It was filled with tables on which the girls of St. Margaret's had their projects set up. None of the other projects was nearly as elaborate or as big as Christie's.

  Students, parents, and teachers walked among the tables, looking the projects over. Miss Woolsey, Mrs. Tillington, and Miss Finney were talking to a man and woman Christie didn't know.

  "Wow! I can't believe it."

  Christie hadn't seen Connie, Davey, and Charlie come up behind her.

  "You couldn't have built all of that, Christie," exclaimed Charlie.

  "I did," she said proudly.

  "If that doesn't take first place, you ought to take the judges to court," Davey told her.

  Christie smiled. "We'll see what happens."

  "I want to see what Nicki's project is," said Davey. "She wouldn't tell me what it was, so I figure it's something like how to drive people crazy. Come on."

  "Be with you in a minute." Connie turned to Christie. "I've got something for you from Rigel," he said, digging in his pocket. He pulled out a small box and gave it to her.