by Ida Siegal
“Yeah. You look ridiculous!” Shakira said.
“Because,” Javier said, “you never know when you might be in a dark closet and need to see something. Also—they look awesome!” And then Javier struck a pose with his hands on his hips like he was in a fashion show.
We all laughed. Shakira shook her head and opened her vanity mirror to check her hair for the hundredth time that day. The mirror sang, “You look faaabulous” for the hundredth time that day! It was starting to get on my nerves.
I reached into my backpack to pull out my lunch box, but I felt something strange. It was a piece of notebook paper in the side pocket. I pulled it out and opened it up. The paper had a message written in pink ink!
“Hey, guys, look!” I cried. “It’s an anonymous note. Just like the one we got about Sophia’s costume! Our anonymous source is back!”
I read the note out loud. It said:
Alyssa took the drum home. I saw it in her room!
“What?” asked Sophia. “Alyssa took it home? But why?”
“It really does seem like Alyssa might have been lying about putting the drum in the upstairs closet,” said Javier.
“Maybe she stole it!” added Shakira.
“I don’t know. But we can’t assume anything!” I said. I remembered my papi telling me that news reporters have to keep an open mind. That means don’t make any assumptions. Just find the facts!
“We have to talk to Alyssa and ask her what really happened, right, Emma?” Javier said, putting his night-vision goggles back over his eyes.
“Yup, yup!” I answered.
“And we should really try to figure out who’s been sending these anonymous notes,” added Sophia. “How do we know for sure she saw the drum at Alyssa’s house? What if the anonymous source is lying?”
“Good point, Sophia!” I said. “We don’t know anything for sure yet. We need to find the facts!”
But I still wasn’t sure how we were going to get all the facts. As I thought about this, I started playing with my curl again. I pulled it down and it bounced back up like always. As soon as it bounced to my head, an idea popped into my brain again! Just like last time. That’s so strange, I thought. It’s almost like my curl is magic or something. I’d have to think about that later. First, I had an idea …
“Javier, do you have your magnifying glass with you?” I asked.
“Of course!” Javier said, and rummaged through his spy kit. “Ta-da! Here it is.”
“There’s something strange on this note, can you take a look?”
“Sure!”
Javier put his night-vision goggles up over his forehead and started inspecting the note with his magnifying glass.
“Hmm. That’s interesting,” Javier said after a minute.
“What? What is it?” we all asked.
“Well, it looks like the writer of this note … likes grape jelly. There’s a purple jelly smudge on here.”
“So what? Everyone likes jelly,” Shakira scolded.
“Okay, okay … I know. Wait, there’s something else,” Javier continued.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Whoever wrote this note also likes hearts. Look, instead of dots, she drew tiny hearts. Here above the letter i, and here at the bottom of this exclamation point. And look here at the end of the sentence. A small heart instead of a period.”
“Hmm. That’s interesting,” I said. “So the anonymous source is someone who uses a pink pen, likes to eat grape jelly, and likes to write with hearts.”
We all started scanning the lunchroom, wondering who that could be. Who kept sending us anonymous tips? I saw Gabriella walk into the lunchroom.
“Could it be Gabriella?” I said out loud. “She knows about my show, and about our drum investigation. And she knows Alyssa. Maybe she knows what happened?”
“That’s possible,” said Sophia, “but, Emma, think about it. Remember the anonymous note you got when my lion costume was missing? How would Gabriella have known about that? I don’t think it’s her.”
Sophia was right. It couldn’t be Gabriella. She had nothing to do with the missing costume investigation.
Suddenly Geraldine the lunch lady was standing right near us and yelling, “Okay, lunchtime is over. Everybody clean your stuff up, throw your trash in the trash, and get outta here!”
We lined up and went outside to play. There were so many mysteries to solve! I touched my special curl again.
I hope you really are a magic curl. We’re gonna need you!
WE didn’t have dance rehearsal after school that day, so we couldn’t interview Alyssa yet. Instead I went straight home and did my homework right away so I could think about the case and file another news report. I sat at my desk in my room and wrote in my purple reporter pad,
Clue #4: The anonymous source says Alyssa took the drum home.
As soon as Papi got home from work, I told him what happened. He had big news for me, too.
“I spoke to that reporter, Rachel Cheng, on the phone today. She received a phone call from a viewer who says he saw the tambora drum on the M4 bus the day it went missing. He thought it was odd to see a drum sitting on the seat by itself, so he took a picture of it with his cell phone. Rachel sent it to me. Take a look. Is that the drum?”
“That’s it!!” I screamed.
“Ow, Emma, not in my ear, please,” Papi said.
“Sorry, Papi. But that’s the missing drum! See, it has the flower painted on the side next to the flag of the Dominican Republic. We found it!”
“Not so fast,” said Papi. “The viewer said he pointed the drum out to the bus driver and then got off at the next stop. He doesn’t know what happened to it after that.”
“Papi,” I said, “I just thought of something. The anonymous source said the drum was at Alyssa’s house. How could the drum be on the bus and at Alyssa’s house?”
“That’s a great question,” Papi replied.
“I think we need to interview the bus driver. Come on, let’s go!” I shouted, running to get my camera phone.
“Hold on a minute, Emma. It’s too late now. You have school tomorrow. I’ll tell you what: I’ll pick you up from dance class after work tomorrow, and I will let you know if we are able to find the bus driver and talk to him. No guarantees. Deal?”
“Deal!”
I was getting so excited. I knew we would find the drum! I pulled out my purple reporter pad and wrote:
Clue #5: A viewer saw the drum on the M4 bus!
Then I hurried upstairs to file my next report. I explained everything we learned today.
“Tomorrow we’re going to crack this case when we talk to the bus driver! I mean if we can find the bus driver and ask him what happened. Keep your fingers crossed! Thanks for watching ‘Emma Is On the Air’!”
* * *
After school the next day, I met up with everyone at dance class and told them about what happened with Rachel Cheng and the bus driver. We decided to wait till after class to talk to Alyssa.
“There she is, in the corner,” Sophia pointed out after class ended. Alyssa was packing up her dance clothes.
“Great,” I answered. “Here, Sophia—you take the camera phone. And, Shakira, you can hold the microphone again, if you want to.”
“Thanks, Emma!” Shakira grabbed the Emma microphone. Then she pulled out her vanity again to look in the mirror, and we all heard it sing, “You look faaabulous.”
“Ugh! Do you have to look in that thing every two seconds?” Javier grumbled.
“Yes, I do!” Shakira insisted as she rolled her eyes at Javier. “Do you have to wear those silly night-vision goggles everywhere we go?”
“Yes, I do!” Javier spat back. “They’re important for finding clues! Besides … I think they help me dance better. You know … when everyone’s spinning around, I can see better.” Javier spun in place with his goggles on his head.
“You’re so weird, Javier,” Shakira said.
“Okay, relax
, you guys,” Sophia chimed in. “Both of your toys are awesome. We have to interview Alyssa before she leaves. Let’s go.”
We all followed Sophia across the room.
“Hey, Alyssa,” I said.
“Hey,” she answered. She still sounded sad.
“So, we’ve made some progress in the case, and we’re getting really close to finding the tambora drum.”
“What?” she asked, sounding surprised. “But how?”
“Someone called Rachel Cheng and said he saw it sitting in a seat on the M4 bus,” Sophia answered.
Alyssa didn’t say anything. She looked nervous.
“Also, we interviewed a dancer from the upstairs class who says she never saw you put the drum in the upstairs closet,” added Shakira.
“Also,” Javier said, “we got a note from a witness who said she saw the drum at your house!”
Finally I said, “I have to ask, Alyssa, did you steal the tambora drum?”
Then Alyssa started to cry. We didn’t know what to do.
“Emma, it’s all my fault!” Alyssa was sniffling.
“It’s okay, just talk to us. Tell us what happened,” Sophia told her in a calm voice. Sophia was so kind to everyone.
“Okay, here’s what really happened,” Alyssa began. “The day before Rachel Cheng came to do the story on our dance group, I went to lock the drum up in the closet like I always do after class. But this time the closet was full. There were too many costumes in there. I was in a rush to get home, so I decided to just take the drum with me and bring it back for class the next day. I knew my tía wouldn’t be happy about that, so I didn’t tell her. I figured it would be fine—and it was fine. I took the drum home, and nothing went wrong.”
Alyssa looked down again, wiping her eyes. She was crying again, we could tell, but she took a deep breath and kept talking.
“The next day after school, I took the M4 bus to dance class. I had the drum on my lap. Then a bunch of my friends got on the bus, and we started talking. I wanted to show them my new cell phone case, and it was in my backpack. So I put the drum down on the seat next to me and got out my backpack to find my phone.”
Alyssa paused again and sighed.
“And then you forgot the drum,” I finished for her.
“Yes,” she answered. “I was so busy talking to my friends, I completely forgot I had the drum with me. I left it on the bus. I was so scared to tell my tía the truth, I made up the story about locking it in the upstairs closet. I’m so sorry. I wish I could just get that drum back!”
Suddenly my papi walked into the dance studio, interrupting our interview.
“Hi, guys—you ready to go talk to the bus driver?” Papi asked us.
“You found him?” I asked with a hopeful smile.
“You got lucky, kid,” Papi answered. “I have a friend who works for the Transit Authority. He’s my source.” Papi winked.
“Alyssa,” I said, turning back to her as she wiped away another tear, “come with us. We’re going to interview the bus driver and find the drum!”
BY now, it was dark outside, and a little bit rainy. We all piled into the car.
“You okay back there?” Papi called to Javier, who was sitting all the way in the back.
“Yup! This is so cool. With my night-vision goggles, I can see everything! Hey, Mr. Perez, did you know there’s three pieces of popcorn under the seat back here?”
“Oh. Ah … I did not know that. Thanks, Javier.”
“You’re welcome!” Javier called back. Then he picked the popcorn off the floor and ate it!
“Ew!!!!” Shakira shrieked. We were all pretty disgusted.
“What?” Javier said. “I like popcorn!”
“Now, guys,” Papi said trying to get our attention, “My source tells me the driver we want to talk to is a man named Jason. I called ahead, and he was nice enough to agree to talk to us. He even said you guys could interview him on camera.”
“Yippee!” I squealed.
“Does he really have the drum?” asked Alyssa.
“We’re not quite sure yet,” Papi answered as he turned a corner. “He didn’t have time to go into detail about what happened. He just said to meet him at the bus depot at six when he gets off his shift. Here we are,” Papi said as he drove into the bus parking lot. “Right on time.”
We all got out of the car and ran over to a little building in the back of the parking lot. Inside was a small office with a man standing next to a wooden desk and a metal filing cabinet. He had a name tag that said Jason. And he was still wearing his blue bus driver uniform. I’d never interviewed someone wearing a uniform before! This was so cool.
“Hello,” said Jason. “Welcome to the bus depot. Now how can I help you?”
“Hi,” I said back. “We’re working on a very important investigation, and we need to do an interview with you.”
“Yes, I heard something about that. Not a problem. Should I stand right here?”
“Yes, that’s perfect,” Sophia replied. She had already gotten the camera phone and microphone out.
I looked over to Sophia and Shakira, and they were ready to go. Javier was inspecting the office with his goggles. Alyssa stood next to Papi, looking worried.
“Thank you again for doing this. We’re very grateful,” Papi told Jason.
“It’s no problem. I trust Nick with my life. Any friend of Nick’s is a friend of mine. I hope I can help.”
“Nick is my source,” Papi explained to us.
Oh, I thought. That’s why Papi says that it’s important have a source you can trust.
I turned to Jason and said, “Yeah, thanks, I hope you can help us, too.” I looked at Shakira, and she pointed the microphone at Jason.
“Okay, let’s get started,” I continued. “Jason, can you please tell me what happened on the bus when you found the drum?”
“Sure thing,” he answered. “I was driving down my regular route that afternoon. We had just passed 181st Street when a passenger tapped me on the shoulder. He told me a drum had been left on a seat near the back. When we got to the next stop, I got out of my seat to go take a look. I saw what he was talking about. A big brown drum, with a flower on the side, was just sitting there on one of the seats. I knew right away it was a special drum. I play the guitar, and I knew a beautiful instrument like that shouldn’t be left alone. So I picked it up and brought it over to the driver’s seat for safekeeping. I kept it there by my side until I got back to the bus depot.”
“Do you have the drum here?” Alyssa asked hopefully.
“Well, that’s the thing,” he answered.
“It’s in the lost and found, isn’t it?” Javier chimed in from across the room.
“Well, that’s where I put it,” Jason answered.
“Let’s go get it!” Shakira shouted.
“I’m afraid there’s a problem,” Jason continued. “Someone already picked it up. A teenage boy was here yesterday and said the drum belonged to him.”
“A teenage boy?” I asked.
“Who? Did he give his name?” Alyssa asked.
“Everyone has to sign the log,” answered Jason, nodding. “Let’s take a look.”
We waited anxiously while Jason the bus driver grabbed a folder from the file cabinet. He took out a piece of paper and started scanning it.
“Ah, there we go,” he said, pointing to a name on the list. “Josh Baker. That’s who claimed the drum, Josh Baker.”
“What????” Shakira screamed. “THE Josh Baker? He was here??”
“Um, I suppose he was,” Jason answered, looking up, a bit startled.
Shakira started jumping up and down like a crazy person.
“Doubtful,” Sophia said to Shakira with a sigh.
“Yeah, this is not good,” I added.
“What’s not good?” Papi asked. “What’s going on? Who’s Josh Baker?”
“Mr. Perez,” Shakira answered, still bouncing, “Josh Baker is like the best singer in the world. Li
ke a million girls think he’s gorgeous! I can’t believe he has our drum!” She was still beaming and clapping her hands with excitement. Sophia, Javier, and I rolled our eyes.
“Shakira, Josh Baker doesn’t have our drum,” I told her. “Somebody used a fake name.” Suddenly she stopped bouncing and looked really sad.
“How do you know it’s fake?” she asked.
“Do you really think Josh Baker came to this bus depot yesterday for a drum?” Javier answered.
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Papi added.
Shakira looked crushed. We were all sad. This meant the drum was gone again, and we had no idea who took it. I was so disappointed I wanted to cry, and Alyssa started to tear up again. Now what? It felt like we were never going to get the drum back.
I had to think of something. So I started playing with my curl again. C’mon, magic curl, I need an idea!
I pulled on my curl and made it stretch it all the way down as far as it would go.
“Emma, what are you doing?” Shakira asked. “You’re going to mess up your hair!”
“Just a minute,” I told her.
After I got my curl to stretch past my waist, I let it go, and it sprang right back up to my head. Then bam! It worked! The curl really was magic. I had an idea.
“Jason, can I take a look at the log?”
“Sure,” he said as he handed it over to me.
Just as I suspected, you had to write down more information than just your name. You had to write your address, too.
“Look, he wrote his address down next to his name,” I told everyone, “but I can’t read it. It looks smudged, and the handwriting is too sloppy.”
“Give it over here!” Javier called. “I am an expert at sloppy handwriting! Miss Thompson said my handwriting was some of the sloppiest she’s seen!” He pulled out his magnifying glass and focused on the address.
“Hmm … this is pretty messy. And smudgy. But I think I got it. It says, ‘Washington High School.’ ”
“Ugh. That’s not an address,” I sighed, disappointed. Alyssa perked her head up.