“And you can visit him whenever you want,” Gran Nola says warmly. “Keeping Handsome is a win-win for me because he’s great company and I get to see you more often.”
“I don’t come just to see Handsome,” I assure her.
“I know.” She hugs me, then hands me the Frisbee I set on the coffee table. “But I know you’re eager to see him, and he could use some exercise.”
Playing with Handsome is always fun. I love the echoing sound of his bark and how his big tongue tickles when he licks me. After we play with the Frisbee, I take him for a walk. He tugs and pulls, so it’s exhausting keeping up with him.
As we go up and down sidewalks, I keep my eyes open for lost pets.
You’d be surprised how many animals run off or get lost. Some are stolen too, which is the worst. Becca, Leo, and I recently solved a pet-napping mystery, which reunited lots of animals with their owners. Although we did it to help people, some owners insisted on giving us rewards. Most of the money went to buy food and supplies for our kittens, some was donated to the Humane Society, and the rest went into the CCSC treasury.
I always carry a list of lost animals. There are currently only three missing pets listed: Milo, a Manx cat; an African parrot; and an elderly dachshund named Ditzy.
When I near Sunny Slope Park, I see a cocker spaniel without a collar chasing after a squirrel. The squirrel scampers up an oak, and the dog barks at the tree. The dog’s apricot coat shines like he’s been brushed recently. I’m just about to go over to him when a woman runs up to the dog, holding a leash with a dangling collar.
“False alarm,” I murmur as the woman hugs the runaway dog, then fastens the collar around his neck.
Handsome jerks on my leash, so I jog to keep up with him.
When I get back to my grandmother’s house, she holds out her phone to me. “For you, Kelsey,” she says.
“Mom or Dad?” I guess since they like to check up on me.
“Neither.” Gram takes the dog leash from me. “I’ll put Handsome in the backyard while you talk to your friend.”
Curious, I hold the phone to my ear.
“Kelsey!” Becca exclaims. “Wait till you hear!”
“Hear what?” I learn forward on the edge of the couch. “And how did you know to call me here?”
“Your mom gave me the number. I couldn’t wait to tell you—Devin called me.”
“Devin?” My memory clicks. “The assistant store manager.”
“Exactly. He apologized for mixing up the keys and offered to let us into the store today, except I said we couldn’t.”
I grip the phone. “I hope you didn’t tell him we picked the lock.”
“No way. He thinks we couldn’t get inside. But I felt I should warn him about the intruder, so I told him we scared off someone trying to break into the store.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was probably a homeless person looking for a place to sleep. He felt so bad for leaving the wrong key that he said he’d bend store rules and check the computer for the fly mask. And guess what he found?”
“What?” I ask eagerly.
“The mask was sold to someone at our school.” Becca’s voice rises with excitement. “The drama club has the fly mask.”
Chapter 11
Staged
Monday morning, my alarm shocks me out of a great dream in which I’m moving into a country home with acres of fields for Handsome to run, a climbing tree for Honey, and a rope swing for me.
I slam off the alarm buzzer, then yawn and stumble out of bed. Way too early for school but Becca, Leo, and I are meeting with a seventh grader named Frankie. Becca found out from Sophia that Frankie is in charge of the drama club costumes, and he’s usually backstage in the auditorium before school.
As I reach for a plain blue T-shirt from my closet, I think enviously of Becca’s chic outfits. I don’t have animal-print clothes, but my twin sisters received matching leopard-print shirts for their birthday. These cute shirts hang abandoned in their closet because my sisters won’t wear lookalike clothes. I could ask for one of the shirts, but they only pass down old clothes to me.
They won’t mind my borrowing a shirt—especially if I don’t tell them.
I creep out of my room and to their door. I hear steady breathing, so I know they’re still sleeping. Quietly, I open the door and peek inside. Kiana is hidden in her tangled blankets while Kenya has kicked off her blankets and has one foot poking over the edge of her bed.
Holding my breath, I walk on tiptoes, a trick I learned from How to Be a Spy 101. I step over discarded clothes and shoes. Their closet is on Kenya’s side of the room. I’m halfway there when Kenya makes a wheezing noise like a sneeze. Startled, I trip over a discarded shoe but catch myself by grabbing onto Kenya’s desk. Quick as a breath, I duck into the closet, shut the door behind me, and click a mini flashlight.
So many clothes! Most are on hangers but some are tossed on the floor. My sisters are such slobs. Still it doesn’t take long to find the leopard-print shirts. They’re identical except one looks smaller, so I grab it.
Snapping off the light, I slip out of the closet and tiptoe out of their room and back to mine. Success! Not only is the shirt cute, but it has pockets. And guess what I find in one of the pockets? A parking receipt for an over-eighteen club where my under-eighteen sisters aren’t allowed. My sisters would be in big trouble if my parents saw this receipt.
Luckily for them, I can keep a secret.
The leopard shirt is too big, but a black belt solves that problem, and it looks great over my best pair of black jeans. For the final sparkly touch, I fasten on my crescent-moon necklace.
After a speedy bike ride to school, I find Becca waiting at my locker. She’s wearing a zebra-print skirt with a clingy black top and black teardrop earrings.
“Where’s Leo?” I ask, as I unlock my lock and put in my sack lunch, which smells sugary-sweet from Dad’s cookies.
“He texted to say he would be seven minutes late.”
“That’s so Leo,” I say with a laugh. “Even when he’s late, he’s precise.”
I glance up, expecting Becca to laugh too. But she’s pale, and her eyes are red, like she’s been crying. “What’s wrong, Becca?” I ask. “Has Zed left already?”
“Not yet.” She sniffs. “But he’ll be gone by tonight.”
“I’m so sorry.” I wrap her in a hug. “He’s going to be okay—and so are you. You should be used to animals leaving. You live on a sanctuary where animals find new homes all the time.”
“I know …” Her voice catches and she wipes her eyes. “It’s just that Zed is special. We got really close, and he even lets me ride him. I’m going to miss him so much.”
“I wish I could help.”
“Talking about it helps a little. I know you love animals too and understand how it feels when one leaves.”
I nod, thinking of Handsome.
“My only hope is the fly mask. If I can get it from the drama club, Caleb will be so grateful, he’ll let me visit Zed or even return Zed to me someday,” Becca says. “I mean, the grandma will be happy to see Zed, but she’s sick and won’t be able to care for him. And Caleb will be busy training horses. So why not give Zed back to me?”
“I can think of thousands of reasons—as in dollars. Do you really think Caleb will give you a valuable zorse?” I ask, afraid her hopes are going to be crushed.
“It could happen … I hope. Returning the fly mask is my only chance to impress him. We’ll get the mask from the drama club; then after school, I’ll surprise Caleb with it.” Becca pauses to catch her breath, then narrows her gaze at me. “You’re wearing a leopard-print top.”
I nod. “Do you like it?”
“Love it! But you’re missing something.” Becca pulls out a leopard hair tie from her backpack. “You can have this.”
“I love it. Thanks,” I say as I tie the strip of leopard fabric around my ponytail. With my crescent-moon necklace and leo
pard-print shirt and hair tie, I’m styling like Becca.
Hearing footsteps, I turn around and see Leo striding toward us. He looks more relaxed, less formal in jeans instead of black slacks.
“Seven minutes late, as promised,” he declares.
“Exactly,” Becca says with a grin. “Let’s go to the auditorium. Sophia told me the drama club meets before and after school, so we’ll find Frankie there.”
“Is he the one who bought the mask from the thrift store?” I ask.
“Yeah. It was in a box of costumes,” Becca answers.
As we enter the auditorium, I realize this is the first time the three of us have been together at school. I’m glad we’re not hiding our friendship anymore. I don’t care if anyone knows—as long as no one suspects that secret kittens brought us together.
Our footsteps echo on the polished wood floor as we walk toward the raised stage. Except for a faint murmur of voices, it’s quiet. When we have school events here, it’s crowded and so noisy you can’t hear the person standing next to you.
I scan the tiered seats until I locate the source of the voices. Three kids sit on the raised stage in folding chairs, papers in their hands—probably scripts. Rehearsing, I guess, for the Lion King play. One of them is Sophia, who stands from her chair and jumps off the stage to meet us in the aisle.
“Hey, Becca and Kelsey.” She runs her hand through her spiky black hair as she looks curiously at Leo. “I’ve seen you around but don’t know your name.”
“Leopold Polanski,” Leo says, holding out his hand.
Sophia raises her brows at Leo’s outstretched hand; then she shakes it. I can read questions in her gaze and know she’s wondering why we brought him with us.
“Can you take us to Frankie?” Becca asks.
“Um … sure,” Sophia says. “You said he has something that belongs to you?”
“Long story. Tell you about it later.” Becca shakes her head, her ponytail swishing over her shoulders.
“Okay, but I have to warn you: Frankie can be moody and he doesn’t talk much. But he’s a brilliant set designer, so he’s useful to have around.” Sophia tucks her arm into Becca’s. “Come around to the prop room.”
We walk past the boy and girl rehearsing, but they’re so focused on the pages they’re reading aloud, they don’t look up.
“You probably heard I’m going to be in our next play, The Lion King,” Sophia tells Leo, her glitter eye shadow sparkling under the bright overhead lights. She leads us around a velvety blue stage curtain.
“I didn’t,” Leo says.
Sounds from the stage fade as we step through a side stage door.
“I have a leading role.” Sophia waits, clearly expecting Leo to compliment her.
But Leo has slipped into the Leo Zone. He’s staring up with fascination at the overhead cables and pulley system, probably calculating a more efficient system.
“It’s a great role.” Becca slips her arm around Sophia. “You’ll make a fabulous Nala.”
“Thanks.” Sophia beams. “There are so many lines to learn, but I already have them memorized.”
“I can’t wait to see you perform.” I turn to tap Leo’s shoulder, so he’ll stop staring at the ceiling and join the real world. “You’ll go to the play with us, won’t you, Leo?”
He blinks. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s going to be amazing,” Becca says enthusiastically.
Leo shrugs. “I don’t go to plays.”
“But I’ll be in this one, so you can’t miss it,” Sophia says, checking him out like she’s interested, which surprises me. I never think of Leo that way—although he does look really good in jeans. “The Lion King is our most ambitious production ever. Frankie is super busy creating costumes and jungle sets. I told him to make my lion head like the one Nala wears in the Broadway version. Would you like to see a photo of it, Leo?”
But Leo points to a circuitry box connected to the wall. “There’s a loose wire,” he says. “It poses a fire risk if not repaired.”
“Whatever.” Sophia rolls her eyes at Leo, then points to a door marked Storage. “Frankie handles all the tech stuff.”
And he’ll know where the fly mask is, I think hopefully.
We enter a brightly lit room crammed with shelves, tables, costumes, and unusual props, like a life-size wooden bear, a tin man (probably from last year’s production of Oz), animal-shaped chairs, a pink couch, and a guillotine that looks real enough to chop off a head.
The room is so crowded with props and boxes stacked to the ceiling that I can’t see the walls. I don’t see any sign of a kid named Frankie either and wonder if the room swallowed him.
I jump when a tall kid pops out from behind a shelf. He walks toward us in a floppy way, like his arms are made of strings. A green cap covers what looks like short black hair with a pink curl sweeping over soft puppy-dog brown eyes.
“Frankie?” I guess.
He lowers his gaze shyly and slouches like he’s uncomfortable with his height. “Yup,” he mumbles.
Sophia gestures to us. “Frankie, meet Kelsey, Becca, and Leo.”
He nods, tipping his green cap further down his face.
“They want to talk to you, so try to act human.” Sophia rolls her eyes at him. “Answer their questions, okay?”
He nods again, his cap so low now I can only see the tip of his nose. He’s either very shy or antisocial.
“I hope you’re not too busy to answer a few questions.” Becca offers him her sweetest smile.
“I was working on a hyena head,” he says. “But it can wait … I guess.”
“Why aren’t you working on my lion head?” Sophia complains. “It has to be finished by dress rehearsal.”
“So do all the other costumes,” he mutters so low I almost don’t hear him. “I’m working as fast as I can.”
“Alone?” Leo glances around the room with a thoughtful expression. “Don’t you have anyone to help you?”
“Frankie can handle it,” Sophia says with a dismissive wave. “And he has help from the stage crew on weekends. But Frankie creates all the costumes and most of the sets. I really need to get back to rehearsal. I’ll leave you with Frankie. Good luck.” She hurries out of the room.
I catch Frankie glaring at Sophia before his expression goes blank again. “What do you need?” he asks us.
“A mask,” I answer.
“Hundreds of them around here.” He shrugs. “Monsters, animals, famous faces. What kind of mask are you looking for?”
“A fly mask,” Becca says.
“No insects except a spider mask with attached legs.”
My skin crawls at the word spider. “Not a costume mask,” I explain. “A fly mask is for horses to keep flies away.”
“Here’s a photo.” Becca whips out her phone, tapping a few keys, then showing him the screen. “See, it’s made of a netting and leather. Horses see great through the netting and flies can’t bother their eyes.”
Frankie only glances at the photo, tapping his foot impatiently like he can’t wait for us to leave.
“Have you seen it?” I ask hopefully. “The mask trim is bejeweled and was part of the box of costumes you picked up from Wear-Ever Thrift.”
“If you just point us in the right direction, we can look ourselves.” Leo steps forward. “We’ll search so you can get back to your work. I can see you’re very busy.”
“I am busy, but usually no one notices,” he says with a genuine smile that shows a gap in his top front teeth. For the first time, Frankie looks at us with interest, not like we’re pesky insects he’d like to swat away. “Okay. I’ll show you the box. I haven’t had a chance to sort through it yet, so it’s still in my office.”
“Office?” I look around at the mass of costumes and props.
“This way,” Frankie says.
We follow him as he takes us on a narrow path through boxes, to the back of the room, where a few boards stacked on boxes is a
table, with a laptop and piles of papers, pens, and tools on top. The wall behind the table is papered with old play flyers: Wizard of Oz, Our Town, Frankenstein, Charlotte’s Web, and many more, most yellowed and dusty.
Becca points to a newer flyer on the wall. “There’s one for The Lion King.”
I follow her gaze, smiling at Sophia’s name. The cover art shows elaborate jungle animal costumes, some like puppets or on stilts or mechanical.
“Frankie, what are those?” Leo points at a jumble of metal poles.
“Parts for a mechanical giraffe. The poles connect to make legs with motorized wheels that will roll across the stage. But I haven’t figured out how everything fits together.” He points to a large white box. “Ah! There is the thrift store box.”
“Can we open it?” I ask as Becca and I eagerly bend over the box.
“Sure.” Frankie raises a brow. “What’s the big deal about a fly mask?”
“My mother gave it away by mistake,” Becca explains.
“Are the jewels worth big bucks?” Frankie wipes his dusty hands on his jeans.
“No. All fake,” I say. “But it means a lot to an elderly woman because it was a gift from her husband before he died.”
“She wants to wear a horse mask?” Frankie asks, puzzled.
“No.” Becca giggles. “Not her—it’s for her pet zorse.”
“Zorse?” Frankie laughs—a deep booming sound that seems too big for his scarecrow-skinny body. “Is that even a real animal?”
“Very real and real special,” Becca says. “I’ve had him for over six months, but now his real owner wants him—and the fly mask—back.” Sighing, Becca starts digging through the donation box.
I glance over to see if Leo is going to help, but he’s wandered off somewhere. Scooting beside Becca, I reach into the box. I toss aside wigs and masks and weird clothes, like a hairy vest and tie-dyed underwear. But when we reach the bottom, there’s no mask.
“Drats,” I mutter as we put everything back in the box.
“Maybe it’s the wrong box,” Becca says. “Let’s ask Frankie.”
We walk over to his desk (the long board propped on boxes), where he’s staring at a photo of an elephant costume on the computer screen. When I tap him on his green cap, he jumps with a start. “What now?” he snaps.
The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask Page 7