CHAPTER ONE: A WORK OF ART
CHAPTER TWO: TOUR TROUBLE
CHAPTER THREE: SMASHED TO BITS
CHAPTER FOUR: A PUZZLING PURSE
CHAPTER FIVE: STAKE OUT
CHAPTER SIX: TWO . . . SUSPECTS?
CHAPTER SEVEN: LIGHTS OUT
CHAPTER EIGHT: ONE LAST CLUE
CHAPTER NINE: THE GREAT MEELA
CHAPTER TEN: GENIE’S ADVENTURE
CRAZY CLAY
A Work of Art
Eight-year-old Nancy Drew held the mirror in her hand, studying the shape of her right eye. She kept looking at her drawing, then back at her reflection. She wanted to get it just right. “I think my eyes look like bugs . . . ,” Nancy said finally.
Her best friend George Fayne leaned over to see. Nancy had a point. Her hair looked the way it did in real life, but her eyes were big ovals with a line down the center. The lashes curled out on both sides, kind of like creepy bug legs.
“A little bit,” George said. “The insides look weird. What do you call those things?”
“The pupils!” Miss Alcott said as she walked by. She was carrying a tray of art supplies. There were old coffee cans full of paintbrushes and rolled up tubes of paint. “You need to fill them out a bit, that’s all. Good work, girls.”
Nancy looked at her reflection again, then made the pupil a circle instead of a line. Miss Alcott had given her the perfect tip. The circle really did make her eyes look more real.
“Sometimes it seems like she knows everything,” Nancy whispered to George.
Bess Marvin stood two easels over. She was hard at work on her self-portrait. Bess was Nancy’s other best friend and George’s cousin. She loved fashion and design. Whenever they were in art together, Bess was quiet. She would work the entire class and never look up from her drawing.
“My mom told me that Miss Alcott studied in Spain for two years before coming to River Heights Elementary,” George said.
“No way,” Nancy whispered. “I heard she plays the guitar too. Hannah thought she saw a poster for her band at the music club downtown.”
The girls watched their teacher move around the classroom, weaving between easels. She dropped off a few pencils and erasers to different students. Miss Alcott was the coolest teacher to ever come to their school. She had a purple streak in her hair and wore peacock-feather earrings. She was always showing the class famous paintings or drawings. Once she even brought in a collage she had done of New York City—where she grew up. The buildings were made out of newspaper and scraps of glittery fabric, which made them sparkle. Nancy had never seen a piece of art like that before.
Sydney Decker, a student at the easel beside them, seemed to be listening to their conversation. Sydney was supersmart. She always got As on her science tests and math tests, even when everyone else failed. “I heard she traveled all around Peru,” Sydney chimed in. “She told Jess Ramos that she got her bag in Lima.”
“Lima?” George asked. “Like the bean?”
“No, silly,” Sydney said. “Lima—the capital of Peru. You know, Machu Picchu?”
Nancy and George shared a look. They had heard of Peru before, but sometimes it felt like Sydney was speaking another language. Geography was one of her favorite subjects, so she always talked about different countries. Sometimes they would catch her looking at maps in computer class.
Robby Parsons looked up from his drawing. He wasn’t very good at art, so his pictures always ended up a bit strange. His nose looked like a mushroom. His eyes were two different shapes and sizes. Miss Alcott liked to call his drawings “abstract.”
“Do you know where she lives?” Robby asked. “It has to be somewhere cool.”
“She lives downtown in one of those giant gray buildings,” Nancy whispered.
“Yeah,” George agreed. “We saw her when we were getting ice cream at the Scoop. She was going inside.”
“Are you sure?” Robby asked.
Nancy almost laughed at the question. Of course she and George were sure. Together with Bess, they formed the Clue Crew. They were always searching for clues and were pretty good detectives. They helped solve mysteries around River Heights. Sometimes it was a stolen wallet or cell phone. Other times it was more serious. They’d once helped an old lady find a missing puppy.
“Definitely,” Nancy answered Robby. “She was carrying two bags of groceries.”
As Robby went back to his drawing, Miss Alcott set down the last of the art supplies on her desk. She glanced up at the clock. “We only have a few more minutes, so finish up your self-portraits,” she said. “And I want to remind everyone about our field trip on Friday.”
At the words “field trip,” the entire class erupted in cheers. “Par-ty! Par-ty!” Robby chanted. His best friend, Kevin Lim, let out a few loud hoots.
“It’s not a party. . . .” Miss Alcott laughed. “Though I promise we’ll have a lot of fun. As all of you know, the Simon Cross Art Institute has agreed to let us tour and sleepover at the museum. We’ll spend the night in their medieval armor wing.”
“Do we have to bring tents?” Amelia Davis asked.
“Just your sleeping bag and pillow,” Miss Alcott said. “And anything else you need to be comfortable.”
“Like your teddy bear,” Kevin laughed. Amelia shot him a dirty look.
“Those armor dudes are scary!” Robby yelled. “I went there a few years ago, and they all had these giant swords.”
“What will we do there?” George asked.
“At the museum, we’ll go on a tour and eat at the restaurant. We’ll draw and paint in the classrooms. There are so many incredible works of art there. I can’t wait to show you the impressionist wing. They even have an early Monet.” Miss Alcott looked so happy as she described it, even if the rest of the class wasn’t sure exactly which artist she was talking about. They’d only had art class for a few weeks. It was hard to remember all the different names.
As the class ended, Miss Alcott went around the room again, collecting stray pencils and mirrors. “Make sure you get your permission slips to me by Thursday at the latest,” she said. “You’ll need them for the trip. Great job, Bess,” she added as she passed Bess’s drawing.
“You have to let us see,” George said. She leaned over, trying to get a better look.
Bess pulled it away. “One minute. I have to fix my lips.”
Nancy and George waited impatiently, ready to see the secret drawing Bess had been hiding from them the entire class.
“Come on Bess! We’re dying to see it,” Nancy cried.
Finally, Bess spun her sketch pad around, revealing the picture she’d been working on. The girl in the drawing had the same eyes as Bess. She had the same thick bangs and light shoulder length hair. She even had the same way of smiling that Bess did.
“That’s amazing!” George said. “The drawing looks exactly like you.”
Bess’s cheeks turned pink. “Thanks. So . . . what did I miss?”
Nancy and George laughed. “Are you serious? You didn’t hear anything Miss Alcott said?”
Bess shrugged. “I guess I was really concentrating. . . .”
“She reminded us about the field trip on Friday. Don’t forget your permission slip,” Nancy said. She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door with George. Bess tucked her sketch pad in her cubby, then followed behind them.
“How could I forget? I’ve been excited for the last two weeks. Did you know that the Simon Cross Art Institute has a two-story mural in it? Or this room where you can throw paint on the walls?”
“That’s crazy,” Nancy said.
“It’s a special exhibit!” Bess said.
“I’ve been saving my allowance,” George said. “I want to get something cool from the gift sho
p.”
The girls huddled together in the hallway. Nancy was smiling so much her face hurt. Field trips at River Heights were always so much fun, and now they were going to have one with their favorite teacher. “Dinner with Miss Alcott, a sleepover with all our friends . . . what could be better than this?”
George wrapped her arms around Bess and Nancy. “Nothing!” She yelled it so loud that half the hallway turned around.
Nancy laughed. Even if George could be a little silly, she knew her friend was right: Friday would be the best field trip yet.
Tour Trouble
That Friday, the girls and their class toured the halls of the Simon Cross Art Institute, following behind Miss Alcott. They had only been at the museum a few hours, but they’d already gone to the exhibit Bess had mentioned on Monday. It was a huge white room where anyone could draw and paint on the walls. They had stayed there for over an hour.
After that they’d walked through the sculpture hall and spent another hour doing ink drawings in the museum’s classroom, a special area set aside for school visits. Now they were in a giant room with high ceilings.
“And this is the impressionist wing,” Miss Alcott said, pointing around. The light blue walls were covered with paintings and drawings of all different sizes.
“What does that mean again . . . ‘impressionist’?” Bess asked.
Miss Alcott smiled. “I’m happy you asked. The impressionist artists were interested in light. They used small brush strokes that you could see if you looked real closely. They liked painting ordinary subjects like people or nature.”
The class scattered around the great room. Some kids stood in front of a giant painting of a woman in a straw hat. Others looked at a wall of tiny paintings of boats. Bess, Nancy, and George looked at a picture of mountains and a sky. They could see each brush stroke, like Miss Alcott said.
After a few minutes, Miss Alcott waved the class over to a pencil drawing hanging at the far end of the room. “And this is what I really wanted you guys to see,” she said. “When I was your age, I saw my first Monet painting at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. I remember how I felt. It was so huge and so beautiful. It changed my life. I know this isn’t the same thing, but this is one of Monet’s earliest drawings. Simon Cross is lucky enough to have it.”
“The water lilies!” George called out. “I remember you showed us that painting.”
“That’s right.” Miss Alcott said. “This is by the same artist. These are some trees he drew when he was starting out.”
The class huddled around the small drawing, which was no bigger than a piece of paper. “This is so cool,” Bess whispered to Nancy. “We have to see if we can get our parents to take us to New York City to see the bigger ones.”
“Take another minute to look around,” Miss Alcott added. “Then we’ll go through the modern art wing to the museum’s restaurant. Is everyone in the mood for grilled cheese sandwiches?”
The class jumped up and down and cheered. Nancy was about to clap when a security guard at the other end of the hall put his finger over his lips. “SHHHHHHHH!” he said loudly.
Miss Alcott waved the kids out a side door, then down a long hallway. “Whoops. We have to remember to be quiet,” she said. “It is a museum. . . .”
“I wonder what’s in there,” George asked, pointing to a door covered with a white sheet. A sign was taped to the front of it. UNDER CONSTRUCTION, it read.
“Look, almost this whole wing is closed!” Nancy added. The class walked past door after door. Each one had the same sign on it.
They followed Miss Alcott out the other end of the hall, but not before stopping by a giant glass exhibit. A sign beside it said WILD.
“This is a new modern art piece,” Miss Alcott said, pointing into the glass room. There was a black canvas on a wall and a few feathers on the floor.
“What is it?” Nancy asked.
“I’m not sure . . . ,” Miss Alcott said. “Modern art can be a bit wacky sometimes.” She waved to a security guard at the other end of the wing. The woman was playing a game on her cell phone. Miss Alcott had to clear her throat a few times before the woman looked up.
The security guard was short with bright red hair. She pointed inside. “It has a live ostrich as part of the exhibit. It’s supposed to be about living creatures and art.”
“I don’t get it,” Sydney said.
Miss Alcott shrugged, then pointed everyone through to the restaurant. It was almost six o’clock, and the dining room was filled with people. A few families finished their dinners. Another class was sitting at the far end of the room, talking with their teacher. The ceiling was covered with flowering plants.
There was a long table in the corner with nearly ten seats. A few feet beside it, a woman sat on a folding chair, playing a harp. The music filled the giant room. Waiters strode past with silver trays of food. Nancy couldn’t believe they’d come to some place so nice—on a field trip.
“Everyone, have a seat,” Miss Alcott said, pointing to the long table. Waiters came over, and one by one dropped plates of grilled cheese.
“This is incredible,” Bess said. She looked down at the white tablecloth and napkins. Each kid had his or her own engraved fork and knife. There were vases in the center of each table with all different color roses. “How fancy!”
“Look at my dinner!” George added. She’d never seen grilled cheese like this. It was cut into tiny triangles. On the side of each dish was a glass cup filled with fresh fruit. There was a leaf of mint for decoration.
“I can’t wait to see what the desserts are like,” Nancy said. A waiter came around and poured glasses of lemonade or iced tea. Hannah, the Drew family housekeeper, usually didn’t let Nancy have sugary drinks. As Nancy took her first sip, she felt like she was breaking a rule.
“I want a double-fudge sundae and sprinkles,” Robby mumbled. He was already halfway done with his sandwich. His mouth was so full that they could barely understand what he’d said.
“Did everyone have fun this afternoon?” Miss Alcott asked. She sat down at the head of the table. Jenny Lynn was sick and two of the other kids from class had forgotten their permission slips, so there were only eight of them in all. Nancy liked how small the class felt this way, all sitting at one table. She had spent the whole time in the interactive exhibit talking to Beth Derth, a girl with two long blond braids. Beth’s mom was the other adult supervising the trip. Because their last names were close in the alphabet, Beth and Nancy sat next to each other in a lot of classes before. But Nancy had never really gotten to know her.
“The best time,” Beth said. “My favorite part was the ink drawings. I got half the bottle on my hands.” She held up her fingers, which were spotted black.
“Me too!” George said. She held up her hands, and they looked the same. They’d used these funny fountain pens. Miss Alcott had put a bunch of objects in the center of the room for them to draw. She had called it a “still life.” They all had drawn a picture of a bottle, a few feathers, and carved wooden box.
“And throwing the paint on the walls,” Kevin said. “How is that not everyone’s favorite part?”
Nancy laughed, knowing Kevin was right. At the interactive exhibit, the class got to put on white jumpsuits and splatter paint on the walls. By the end, the white walls were covered with neon yellow, green, and blue paints. They washed the paints off before the next class began their group masterpiece. Nancy still had some yellow paint in her hair.
“And the Monet drawing,” Bess said. “I can’t wait to see the armor, too.”
“Yeah!” Robby yelled. “Swords and axes and stuff.”
Miss Alcott smiled. “Yes, swords and axes. There’s even a statue of a horse, complete with the armor it wore in battle.”
Kevin high-fived Robby. “I can’t believe that’s where we’ll be sleeping.”
Miss Alcott pointed to a giant arched doorway off the restaurant. “After we’re finished eating, we’ll g
o look at the drawings in the—”
“There they are!” a voice called out. “That’s them right there!”
The entire class turned around, looking at the wing they’d come from. The security guard with the bright red hair ran toward them. Right behind her was an older man with wire glasses.
“I’m sorry. . . . Can I help you?” Miss Alcott asked. She stood up and put her hands on her hips.
“You certainly can,” the man said. He adjusted his glasses on his nose. “I’m Mr. Whimbley, the curator at Simon Cross. I’ve been informed one of your students broke a priceless statue we had in our modern art wing.”
“I found it right after they walked through!” the guard yelled. “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
“But we didn’t do anything,” Nancy called out. She couldn’t just sit there and let them accuse her friends and Miss Alcott. She had watched the class the entire time they were walking through that wing. No one had left the group.
“Likely story,” the guard said.
Miss Alcott’s face turned red. Nancy had never seen her so upset. She looked like she might cry. “I promise you,” she said. “We had nothing to do with that. I had the class together the entire time. They didn’t leave my sight for even a minute!”
Mr. Whimbley crossed his arms over his chest. He looked around the rest of the restaurant, then back at the security guard at his side. “What do you think, Rita? Are you sure?”
The red-haired woman stared down at Nancy and her friends. “Sure as ever,” she growled. “The River Heights students are to blame!”
Smashed to Bits
“I don’t think you quite understand our problem,” Mr. Whimbley said. He kept fiddling with his glasses as he spoke. “That sculpture was by a French artist.”
Robby leaned over and whispered to Kevin. “Can’t he make another one?”
Mr. Whimbley pointed a finger in Robby’s face. “No, he cannot make another one. He cannot make another one because he’s been dead for one hundred years!”
Museum Mayhem Page 1