Fabulous Five 016 - The Hot-Line Emergency

by Betsy Haynes

  "Thanks," Beth replied. "It's perfect for the occasion, don't you think?"

  "I can't believe this," said Jana. "Here we are, in seventh grade, and we're escorting an iguana on its first date. How will I ever tell my children about this?"

  "There's no way I'll tell my kids," said Katie. "How could I expect them not to do crazy things if I admitted that I did?" Shane came jogging down the street with a large wooden box under his arm. "Sorry, Igor," he said to the box when he came to a screeching halt in front of them. "He doesn't like it when I bounce him around."

  "Are you sure you've got Igor in there?" asked Beth suspiciously. "Or are you just going to get us to take a bus ride all over town and then show us an empty box and say you forgot him?"

  "Sure he's in here," Shane said, frowning at her. "Would I kid you?"

  "YES!" The Fabulous Five yelled in unison.

  "Okay! Okay!" Shane said, laughing. "Take a look." He flipped the catch on the lid and opened it so they could see.

  "I can't believe it!" said Christie. "You did put a yellow tie on him."

  "Sure. And look at those feet," Shane said proudly.

  "Oh, no!" squealed Beth. "You painted his claws black."

  "He's some good-lookin' dude, isn't he?" Shane said, grinning and stroking the big lizard's head affectionately.

  "Do you suppose Cecilia will be wearing a gown and a veil?" asked Katie. Before Shane could answer, the crosstown bus pulled up, and they piled on.

  Christie looked around when they got off again. Old, red-brick buildings with small businesses in them lined both sides of the street. There were no houses.

  Shane took a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and unfolded it. "Twenty-two oh four, third floor, apartment thirty-three. It's that building over there."

  Christie looked at the sign that hung over the entrance to the building. Its green paint was peeling and the letters that said MADAME ZONGA'S FORTUNE-TELLING PARLOR were so faded she could hardly make out the words. It gave her a creepy feeling. "Are you sure this is the place?" she asked.

  "That's what she told me," Shane said, frowning at the paper the address was written on.

  He opened the door and went in. Christie was right behind him with the others trailing single file as he led them up a dark, squeaking stairway. At the first landing, she looked out a window that was almost opaque from a film of dirt. She could see a trash-filled alley down below. At the top of the next stairs were four doors. Shane knocked on the one that had the number thirty-three tacked on it. One of the threes had come loose and was hanging sideways. The door opened, and an eye peeked through the crack.

  "Yes?" a husky voice said.

  "My name is Shane Arrington, ma'am. I called about your iguana."

  The door closed and Christie heard a chain rattle. When it opened again, a lady stood in front of them dressed in black, flowing robes with a black turban wrapped around her head. Her eyelids were slathered with eye shadow, and her false lashes stood out like bristles. Her cheeks had round spots of orange like bright little suns.

  "You're the nice young man that I talked to on the phone, aren't you? Come in. Cecilia's been all adither ever since I told her your Igor was coming to see her."

  Shane and The Fabulous Five crowded into the small room. A tablecloth decorated with the signs of the zodiac covered a table in the center of the room on which a large glass ball sat. Black drapes hung from ceiling to floor at the right side of the room, as if to conceal another living area. Totally weird, thought Christie.

  "Here, place your Igor's box on the table," said Madame Zonga. Shane did as he was directed, but Christie saw a look of apprehension on his face.

  "One moment," said the strange lady, then she disappeared behind the drapes. She appeared almost instantly, carrying a second iguana. Its claws were painted red, it had several thin, colored wire hoops around its long neck like necklaces, and it had a red ribbon tied to its tail.

  "Ummph," said Christie, stifling a laugh. Katie, Jana, Beth, and Melanie were all looking at the ceiling, the window, the paintings on the walls, everywhere except at each other. Christie prayed one of them wouldn't start laughing because she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it in if they did.

  "If I leave Igor here, where will you keep him?" Shane asked Madame Zonga.

  "In a cage in my sleeping quarters."

  "Could you bring it out so I could see it?" he asked.

  "Out here? Come with me, and I'll show you."

  "No, I'd better not. Why don't you bring it out here?"

  The lady looked at him and then disappeared behind the drapes again.

  "Quick! Somebody give me a lipstick," Shane hissed.

  Christie searched frantically in her purse for one as did the other girls.

  "Here," said Beth.

  "No! I want a red one. A bright red one. That one's purple."

  "Here," said Jana.

  Shane took the lipstick and quickly made red marks under Igor's eyes and around his nostrils as a rattling sound came from the other part of the apartment. Jana had just put the lipstick back in her purse when the curtains parted and the lady in black backed out, pulling a large wire cage behind her.

  "This is it," she said, panting with the effort.

  "That looks like a nice one," said Shane. "Here, you hold Igor while I look at it."

  As he walked around the cage, Madame Zonga looked at the iguana in her hands. Suddenly she looked closer at Igor's face. "What's this!" she asked, pointing to Igor's eyes. "What's this red stuff?"

  "Oh, that. Did he do it again?" asked Shane. "Here, let me have him. Does anyone have a tissue?" Melanie handed him one. "He started bleeding from the eyes and nose yesterday. I don't know what causes it, but I'm sure it's not contagious," he said, smiling and wiping the lipstick away.

  "Bleeding from the eyes and nose! And you bring him here to see my Cecilia? How could you do such a thing? My Cecilia could catch whatever it is and die."

  "Oh, I don't think it's anything to worry about," said Shane. "I haven't heard of them finding any of that new reptile disease around here."

  "Reptile disease! They've discovered a new reptile disease? Shoosh! Get him out of here! Get him out!"

  Shane looked at Madame Zonga with his mouth open, but Christie thought she saw a twinkle in his eyes. "I, uh, didn't think."

  "Didn't think? Get that infected lizard out of here before my Cecilia catches its disease!" She waved her hands and opened the door. When the six of them were back in the hall, she slammed the door.

  When they reached the street, they all let out wails of laughter. "Shane, how could you?" asked Christie, bracing herself against the wall of a building.

  "I wasn't about to leave Igor with an iguana that's treated weirder than I treat him. There's no telling what condition he'd be in when I got him back."

  "Well, what next?" asked Jana. "Have you got any other big ideas about finding Igor a girlfriend?"

  Shane shrugged. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."

  They were still chattering and laughing about the incident when they boarded the bus for home.

  Christie pulled off her sweater and tossed it on her bed, then got into her pajamas. It was eleven o'clock that evening, and she was tired but happy.

  After going with Shane to see Madame Zonga and Cecilia, The Fabulous Five had gone to the mall and hung around. Christie thought nearly everyone they knew from the seventh grade was there, and they had had a ball, strolling back and forth, talking to friends, eating round food, which was what everyone called pizza and hamburgers, and sitting on the benches and watching people. Later, they went ice-skating and ate more round food. The only disconcerting thing had been Jon. Christie had seen him ducking in and out behind pillars like an Indian scout on the trail of a deer. Every time she looked, he disappeared behind something. He had finally joined them when Randy, Tony, Shane, and Keith had showed up. The rest of the evening The Fabulous Five and the boys had drunk colas, and talked.

  Chris
tie heard the telephone ring in another part of the house and listened to hear if her mom or dad would call her. It was probably one of The Fabulous Five calling to talk about their day. Her parents never got calls this late on Saturday. She was right.

  "Christie? her mother called up the stairs a second later.

  "Hi," Christie said brightly into the receiver, expecting to hear one of her friends reply.

  "I need help with my algebra," came back a male voice.

  Christie almost dropped the phone.

  CHAPTER 11

  Christie took a deep breath. "Why are you calling me?"

  "I didn't have anything else to do, and I thought it would be a good idea," the caller said brightly. Christie listened closely, trying to identify the voice. "I saw you and your friends at the mall today."

  "You did?" She quickly tried to run the scenes of the day back through her mind as if it were a video in reverse. Jon stalking her all afternoon was clear in her mind, so were some other kids' faces from Wacko Junior High. Others were vague. She didn't recall any other boy. "Where in the mall did you see me?"

  "If I told you that, you might remember me, wouldn't you? It was just someplace. What did you think of my little trick? Pretty spectacular, wasn't it?"

  "If you mean the gum-tree fire, NO! I don't think it was spectacular at all. Hi at tree is important to Wakeman Junior High. Kids have been putting their gum on it forever. Why would you want to burn it down?"

  He sounded hurt. "Aw, I didn't really want to burn the tree down. If I had, I would have put the trash barrel where I set the fire closer. And I wouldn't have called the fire department, would I?" he added hurriedly. "But you'll have to admit, it did get everybody's attention."

  Christie's emotions let loose in a flood of words. "Is that what you want?" she demanded. "To get people's attention? Why don't you just go out for sports, or get on the yearbook staff, or even the school band? Do something that's worthwhile instead of getting cheap thrills by putting soap in fountains, breaking windows, and setting trees on fire. Jeez! You've got as much chance as we all do to get attention. They're always looking for kids to help out with things after school."

  There was dead silence on the line, and she thought he had hung up.

  "That's all you know," the caller said finally in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Kids don't all have the same chance to do things. Everybody doesn't stand out like you do. I'm not an athlete like Randy Kirwan, or good at reporting like Curtis Trowbridge, or popular like you. I . . ." He didn't finish the sentence.

  "That sounds like a lot of excuses to me," she threw back at him. "Unless you're so handicapped that you can't get to school, you should be able to do something."

  "I don't think I want to talk to you anymore."

  "Why not?" She kept after him. It felt good to suddenly have the upper hand with her mysterious caller. "You felt big-time when you were telling me about your 'tricks.' Now you don't like it when I tell you how dumb they are. Everybody has to choose between doing something that's good or something that's a waste of time. It looks like you've made your choice."

  "Don't say that!" he spit the words out over the phone. "I can't . . ." He stopped again without finishing the sentence. The next time he spoke, his voice was calmer. "Like I said, you're not so smart. You don't even know who I am. I am good at some things, but not things I can do in school. I bet I'd be champion if they did the things I'm good at."

  Christie listened in fascination.

  "For all you know, I might be smarter than you," he continued. "Maybe you're the dumb one. Hmm." He seemed to consider what he had just said. "How would you like it if someone said you did dumb things?"

  He chuckled. "I think that will be my next trick. I'll tell everyone how dumb Christie Winchell is. That'll be a whammo trick! What do you think of that?"

  "Not much," said Christie. "Besides, I'd know who you are then. You can't do that."

  "Oh, yeah?" he countered. "I told you I'm smart, too. I know a way to do it. You'll see."

  "Listen . . ." The phone clicked dead. He had hung up on her again.

  Christie slammed down the receiver. She was furious. That boy had a lot of nerve calling her at home and talking about his stupid pranks.

  Christie got up and paced back and forth across the room for a few minutes to get rid of her anger. There had to be a way to figure out who the caller was and beat him at his own game. A thought had just come to her. It was when the mysterious caller got upset that he finally started telling her things about himself. Not whole things, just bits and pieces, but he had given her things she needed to think about. There was one thing, especially, that was nibbling at her mind, and she needed to talk to someone about it. She picked up the phone and punched in the numbers.

  CHAPTER 12

  "Thanks for coming over," said Christie to The Fabulous Five.

  "I would have come over last night as soon as you called if I could have," Jana assured her. "I can't believe the kook called you at home."

  It was Sunday morning, and Jana was sprawled across the foot of Christie's bed. Christie was sitting cross-legged against the brass headboard with her arms folded around the stuffed bunny dressed in a tennis outfit she had used for the parent project earlier that year. Katie was sitting in the chair at the desk, and Beth and Melanie had found places on the floor. Since it was Sunday, none of them had on makeup, and they were all wearing their scrounging-around clothes.

  Christie looked at her friends. There was Jana, whose leadership pulled them together. Katie, whose sense of right and fairness kept them on the right track. Melanie, whose caring and good humor made them smile all the time. Beth, whose sense of drama and intense feelings caused her to jump without thinking and involved them in some crazy things. Their faces were all serious, and she knew they would do anything they possibly could to help.

  "He called right after I got home. He said he saw me at the mall."

  "That's weird. What did he want?" asked Melanie.

  "To talk, I think. The reason I couldn't tell you any more about what's been going on is, I promised Mr. Snider I wouldn't. Mr. Bell has already gotten the police involved, and I don't want to tell them about last night's call. At least not yet." Christie straightened the wrinkles in the bunny's tennis outfit. "I really need to talk to someone." She looked up and smiled. "You guys are my chosen victims."

  "Why don't you want to tell the police?" asked Katie. "It's one thing for him to call you at the hotline center, but it's a lot more serious when he starts calling you at home."

  "I want to find out more about the caller before I tell them," Christie answered. "Mr. Bell needs to know why he's doing these things. Maybe they can help him instead of putting him in jail."

  Jana rolled over on her stomach. "I doubt that they'd put him in jail, but I'm sure they're afraid he'll do something worse, and then they would have to. You can't blame them for that."

  "I know," Christie said, shaking her head. "I don't blame them. I'd just like to know more about him before he gets into trouble." She bowed her head and looked at her feet. Then she took a deep breath and said, "I think I know who it is." The others gasped, and their eyes opened wide.

  Jana spoke for all of them. "You do? For gosh sake, tell us."

  Christie raised her head and looked from one to the other. "I think it's Jon." Saying it was like cutting herself. It hurt.

  "Jon? You've got to be kidding!" Beth said, a look of disbelief on her face. "Jon wouldn't do dumb things like this character's been doing. Why would he?"

  "I keep asking myself the same thing," said Christie, biting her lip. "But Mr. Snider said I should watch for someone who's acting different towards me, and Jon's been doing that. Did you see him at the mall today before we met Randy, Shane, and the others? Jon was sneaking around watching us. I've seen him do it before at Bumpers and other places. I think he has been listening in when I've been talking to people."

  "He has?" asked Katie.

  "Yes. And I've
looked and looked, and I haven't seen anyone else who's acting strange. It must be Jon. That's why I don't want Mr. Bell to go to the police." Her voice dropped low. "At least not yet."

  "I can't believe this," Jana said, getting off the bed and walking across the room. "Maybe he is following you around, but why would he have to be the guy calling the homework hot-line center and doing those weird things? Couldn't that be someone else?"

  "It could be," admitted Christie. "But I don't know who. Mrs. Brenner said that whoever is doing it is probably disturbed, and Mr. Snider said that could mean he's upset over something." She looked at Jana, who had picked up a bottle of perfume from the dresser and turned to listen to her. "Jon's upset with me. I know he is. So, if he's doing it, it's at least partly my fault." She sniffled, and her eyes filled with tears.

  "Oh, Christie," Jana said, moving toward her. "Don't say that. The things this guy is doing are not your fault. And I bet you a million dollars it isn't Jon who's doing them." She sat on the bed and put her hands on Christie's.

  Katie took a tissue from the box on the desk and handed it to Christie. "Tell us everything he said on the phone last night."

  "He said he hadn't really intended to burn the gum tree down and that I didn't know who he was so I couldn't judge him."

  "Is that all?" asked Melanie, frowning.

  "Boy, if it had been me, I would have given him a piece of my mind," said Beth.

  Beth's comment made Christie remember something else. "That was the interesting thing," she said. "I did chew him out and told him I thought he was doing dumb things. I got really angry, and I upset him. Then he started saying things he had never said before. I think I'm beginning to get a picture of what he's like."

  "That's great!" said Jana. "That's what the police do when they don't know who's doing something. They develop a . . . what's it called? . . . a psychological profile." She sat down on the edge of the bed and put her fingers against her temples. "What else did he say? Maybe we can figure out who he is."

  "Well, let's see." Christie thought for a moment. "As usual, he asked me what I thought of his last trick. He meant the gum-tree fire."