House Arrest

by Franklin W. Dixon

  After she left, some of the contestants did as she said. Others hung around in the kitchen, wiping up the mess and chatting about what had happened. Frank and I ducked outside for a quick discussion.

  “This is getting serious again,” Frank said. “This wasn’t just a prank, like the bird thing or the lipstick thing. James really could have been killed.”

  “No kidding.” I shook my head. “Would Bobby go this far just for a juicy blog entry? And what about Ripley? She could still be pushing the do-gooder thing. Showing she’s a nice person by picking glass out of someone’s face.” I shuddered, realizing that “someone” had almost been Brynn. The glass of ice water had been in her hand before James had snatched it away.

  Frank seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Was someone just out to cause trouble in general by putting glass in the ice?” he mused. “Or was James targeted specifically? Everyone knows he’s always chugging ice water.”

  “And chewing up the ice,” I added, seeing what he was driving at. “At least according to …”

  “Mikey Chan,” Frank finished grimly. “I guess he’s the obvious suspect for this one, isn’t he?”

  “Kinda hard to believe,” I said. “The kid seems so, like, mild-mannered and gentle.”

  “Yeah. But also maybe a little sneaky. Or at least private. We’ve caught him a couple of times now skulking around in the supply closet, remember?”

  “Still seems kind of weak, if you ask me.”

  Frank shrugged. “Maybe. But we can’t rule anybody out. For now, let’s sleep on it—we’re getting up early tomorrow, remember?”

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Mikey Chan

  Hometown: Aurora, Illinois

  Physical description: 5’7”, 205 lbs., black hair, brown eyes.

  Occupation: Student

  Background: Older of two brothers. Parents both work in medical field. B student, no record of trouble.

  Suspicious behavior: Seemed to be bothered when James chewed ice. Seems to spend a lot of time sneaking around in the supply closet.

  Suspected of: Planting glass in the ice-water pitcher; possibly other pranks as well.

  Possible motives: Revenge on James for teasing. Also possible that he’s more competitive in the game than he’s letting on.

  It seemed like five minutes after I fell asleep that I heard a loud, annoying buzzing. It was coming through the mansion’s intercom system. Did I mention it was loud?

  “Dude, you gotta be kidding me.” James sat up in his bed and stretched. “Is that this show’s idea of an alarm clock?”

  Our other roommate, Mikey, was nothing more than a lump under the covers. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

  “Don’t ask.” I glanced at the window. It was still dark outside.

  “Up and at ‘em, fat boy!” James sounded more awake already. He must have remembered there was a competition that morning. The guy is all about competition. “I call first shower.”

  It was finally getting light as we gathered out in the yard a short while later. Everyone still looked a little rumpled and sleepy. Everyone except Ripley. I caught her yawning once or twice, but otherwise she looked just as pulled-together as always. They must teach that in celebrity-heiress school.

  Oops, scratch that. There was one other person who looked like her usual self. Veronica. She was dressed in a form-fitting yellow suit, and her lipstick was so red it practically glowed.

  She strode out and stood in front of us. “Good morning, everyone,” she said. “I hope you’re all feeling well rested. Now follow me, please. This morning’s competition is called Junk in the Trunk.”

  A few people laughed at the name. The rest just wandered after Veronica, yawning or looking tired and hungry. We hadn’t been allowed to eat breakfast yet. When I’d stopped in the kitchen, planning to grab a granola bar or something, one of the cameramen had been there to stop me. We weren’t allowed to eat until after the competition.

  Veronica led us around some bushes behind the woodpile. That’s when we saw the setup for the competition. Rubber flooring about the size of a room was laid out on the grass, and a bunch of huge trash cans were clustered in the middle of it. Weirder still, a dozen wooden trunks formed a circle about seven feet overhead. They were dangling from wires and swaying back and forth in the breeze. Each trunk had one of our names painted on the bottom.

  “Junk in the Trunk.” Hal pointed to the swinging trunks overhead. I guess he’d returned to planet Earth long enough to pay attention. “I get it!”

  “Congrats, genius. Now shut up so we can hear how I’m going to kick your butts this time.” James grinned confidently at Veronica. “So what do we have to do? Lay it on us.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Thank you, Mr. Sittenfeld,” she said icily. “If you hadn’t said that, I’d have no idea what to say next.” Then she surveyed the rest of us. “This competition involves one of your deprivations—junk food.” She pointed one very red fingernail at the trash cans on the ground. “Those are filled to the brim with potato chips.”

  Mikey let out a little squeak. His eyes were very round as he stared at the cans.

  “You will see that you each have a trunk.” This time Veronica pointed up. “When the buzzer sounds, those trunks will start moving around in a circle. Your task is to toss potato chips up into your individual trunks. Make sure your aim is good—if you miss and hit someone else’s trunk, good for them, bad for you. The contestant whose trunk weighs the most when the buzzer sounds again is the winner and gets to choose the next deprivation for the house. Everyone else will have to clean up the rest of the chips from the yard.”

  “Sounds great.” Mikey licked his lips. “Let’s get started!”

  “Oh, one more thing.” Veronica lifted one finger. “During this challenge—and the cleanup afterward—you aren’t allowed to eat a single bite. You can’t even lick the grease and salt off your fingers. Anyone who is caught doing so has to go without meals today and tomorrow—stale bread and water only. Plus he, she, or they must do all food-related chores, including cooking for the rest of the house, for the same period of time.”

  “Too bad for you, chubs,” James taunted Mikey. “Listen, when you’re on food duty tomorrow, make sure you remember I like extra tomato on my sandwiches.”

  I glanced at Mikey. His face had fallen and he looked sort of sick.

  I couldn’t really blame him. My stomach was grumbling a bit too. No wonder they hadn’t wanted us to eat breakfast.

  “Don’t bother trying to cheat, either, kids.” It was Sylvia, the hyper PA. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” She was holding a cup of coffee and a doughnut. She smirked and took a big bite.

  “Yes, and so will the rest of us, not to mention the cameras,” Veronica added. “Even if you think you’ve gotten away with it, don’t be so sure. We’ll be reviewing the footage carefully.”

  BZZZT! The buzzer sounded, and the contest was on.

  I raced toward the trash cans with the others. James flung the lid off one and grabbed a huge handful of potato chips. The scent of grease wafted out. Mikey let out a moan.

  “You can do it, Mikey,” Brynn murmured to him as she dug both hands into another can. “Stay strong.”

  I smiled at her. I already knew she was cool, but it was amazing how she just kept getting cooler.

  Then I got down to business. Have you ever tried to toss potato chips seven feet into the air and hit a moving target? Let me tell you, it’s not easy. Especially when it’s breezy. It didn’t help that we all kept bumping into one another as we chased our trunks, staring upward.

  “Flip them with your thumb like you’re tossing a coin,” Frank murmured as he rushed past me on his way back to get more chips.

  That trick worked—sort of. I still only hit my trunk about once out of every fifteen tries. If that. My only comfort was that, judging by the cursing and cries of annoyance from all around, nobody else was doing much better.

  I was sort of reliev
ed when the buzzer went off again, ending the contest. “Everybody stop!” Veronica commanded.

  “Hey!” shouted Gail, pointing. “Did you guys see that? Cheater! Ripley just ate a chip!”

  A Guy Who Can Handle Stuff

  I think everyone was pretty surprised that Ripley was the one to cave. We all thought it would be Mikey. Ripley shot Gail an evil look for ratting her out, but then she fessed up.

  “Sorry,” she said, tossing her long, straight brown hair over her shoulder. “I just couldn’t resist.”

  She didn’t really look that sorry. But maybe that was just her. She’s used to getting in trouble, and she’s used to having her parents’ money and connections get her out of it.

  That wasn’t going to be the case this time. Veronica immediately sent her inside to prepare breakfast for the rest of us.

  “But nothing but water for you,” she warned her. “The cameras will be watching. Someone will bring you some bread later on.” Veronica patted her sleek blond hair. “Don’t be surprised if it’s a little stale.”

  “Fine, whatever.” Ripley headed inside.

  Meanwhile the rest of us were wondering who had won. It only took a few minutes for the verdict to come back.

  “It was close,” announced Veronica. “But our winner is … Frank Dooley.”

  “Aw, man!” James exclaimed with a scowl.

  The others all managed a cheer or a “congrats,” even though most of them didn’t look too happy. I wasn’t feeling too happy myself. After helping nab Mitch, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to draw more attention to myself. Guess I should’ve thought about that before the competition.

  “Frank, I’ll expect to hear your decision on the next deprivation tomorrow morning at breakfast,” Veronica said. “As for the rest of you, you might want to enjoy your favorite luxuries today. It might be your last chance.” With one last evil smile, she strode away.

  “Nicely played, bro.” Joe came up and clapped me on the back. “What are you going to choose?”

  “I don’t know yet.” As we stepped into the house, Brynn caught up with us.

  “Hey,” she said. “So how about Ripley eating that chip? Talk about a surprise! As thin as she is, I’m surprised she even knows what a chip is.”

  “Maybe that was the problem,” Joe joked. “She wasn’t sure what Veronica was talking about, and she ate it by accident.”

  I chuckled. Before I could say anything, Bobby T caught up to us.

  “Frank, old buddy, old pal,” he said, giving me a friendly punch on the arm.

  “Hi, Bobby,” I said. “What’s up?”

  As if I didn’t know. I was pretty sure just about everyone in the house would be my best friend for the next twenty-four hours.

  “Not much,” he said. “Just wondering if, you know, you’ve got any thoughts about that next deprivation. Such as, say, not getting rid of our Internet service.”

  Joe grinned. “Subtle, dude,” he told Bobby. Then he glanced at Brynn. “Want to go see if there are any granola bars left in the supply closet?” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking forward to seeing what Ripley comes up with for breakfast. She grew up with servants—I’d be surprised if she even knows how to pour a glass of OJ.”

  “Sure. I could use a snack.” Brynn glanced at me and smiled. “Want to come, Frank?”

  Joe looked surprised. I was a little surprised myself. Since when did Brynn invite me along with her and Joe? Sure, we’d had that nice moment after she got freaked out in the kitchen. But those two had been tight pretty much since day one.

  “Um, sure,” I said. “Let’s all go look for those granola bars.”

  For the rest of the day, Brynn stuck to me like glue. At first it was kind of awkward. As Joe likes to tell anyone who’ll listen, I’m not that great with girls.

  But like I said, Brynn was different. She was so easy to talk to that before long I practically forgot she was a girl. Well, okay, not really. You’d have to be blind and deaf to forget that. After a while I was almost sorry that her new interest in me would probably end as soon as I announced my decision on the next deprivation.

  “So what do you think I should pick tomorrow?” I asked her as the two of us stacked wood on the hearth of the gigantic fireplace in the great room. James and Joe were out getting more. I was in no hurry to rejoin them. Lugging firewood up the stairs isn’t much fun.

  She just shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s up to you. I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “Really? You mean you don’t have an opinion for me like everyone else does?” I went for that jokey, breezy tone Joe likes to use with girls. It didn’t really work for me, though. I just sounded like a dork.

  “Is that why you think I’m hanging around?” She tilted her head at me. Her eyes locked on mine, which made me sort of forget how to breathe for a second. “That’s not it at all. It’s just that you really seem like a guy who can handle stuff, you know? I mean, you were the one who pulled that dead guy out of the pool at the first challenge. And you rescued your brother and those other guys when they got trapped in the sauna last week and almost died. You even helped catch that guy Mitch.” She reached over and put a hand on my arm. Her touch felt cool and soft. “With everything that’s happened, being in this house makes me nervous. But being with you makes me feel safer.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe heading toward us with an armful of firewood. I wondered how much he’d heard. Judging by the look on his face, probably too much.

  “What’s up, you two?” Joe’s pretty good at that jokey, breezy thing. Anybody but me probably wouldn’t have noticed the edge in his voice.

  Brynn finished her stacking. “There,” she said, brushing off her palms. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to wash my hands.”

  As soon as she was gone, Joe dumped the wood he was holding and rounded on me. “Hey, what’s the deal?” he demanded. “So a girl likes me better for once. Do you have to try to steal her away just to prove you can?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Brynn and I are just friends.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. If that,” he snapped. “Get a clue, bro. She’s just trying to influence your decision about the next deprivation.”

  I couldn’t help a flash of annoyance. “In case you haven’t noticed while you were drooling all over her, she’s not like that, Joe,” I retorted. “She’s just feeling a little nervous and wants to be around someone who makes her feel safe. Not my fault if that’s me.”

  “Uh-huh, sure.” Joe rolled his eyes. “Believe that if you want. Just don’t be surprised when she suddenly starts feeling a lot safer, oh, around breakfast time tomorrow.”

  He stomped away. I sighed and went back to stacking wood.

  “Seriously, though,” I said to Brynn. “What should I do tomorrow? I don’t have much longer to decide, and I still have no clue.”

  It was around three in the afternoon. We were hanging out in the kitchen. Brynn was flipping through a magazine and I was eating an apple. Not surprisingly, Ripley hadn’t turned out to be much of a cook. We’d had tuna sandwiches for lunch. That normally wouldn’t be a bad thing, since I like a good tuna sandwich. However, these were not good tuna sandwiches.

  “I don’t know.” Brynn shrugged and glanced over at the deprivation list posted on the wall. “Um, I guess you could always pick something like magazines”—she waved the one she was holding—“or, like, radio. Or how about TV? We only get two hours a day as it is. That would probably be missed a lot less than most of the other stuff on the list.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” I chuckled. “Somehow, though, I don’t think Mikey would see the logic.”

  That reminded me. I hadn’t seen Mikey since lunchtime. Ever since the ice incident, Joe and I were keeping an eye on him. I still wasn’t sure he made the best suspect, but you never know.

  All morning it had been easy to keep track of him. He’d taken every opportunity to make sugg
estions about what I should do. Basically, he was campaigning hard to keep not only his beloved TV, but also all our remaining food-related luxuries. Even though we’d already lost junk food and hot food, there were a few more items on the list. Salt and spices. Utensils—knives, forks, and spoons. Milk and OJ and pretty much all beverages besides soda.

  Brynn flipped another page in her magazine. “I guess,” she said. “He’d probably be the only one who’d care about losing TV, though.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Still, it was kind of tempting to do it anyway. If Mikey was our culprit, upsetting him like that might be a good way to draw him out.

  Just then I saw Joe walk by in the hallway. “I’ll be back in a sec,” I told Brynn. “Uh, bathroom. You know.”

  I hurried out of the room and caught up to Joe. “Yo,” he greeted me, sounding a little sour.

  He’d probably seen me sitting in there with Brynn. But I didn’t have time to worry about it.

  “Listen,” I said. “Have you seen Mikey lately?”

  Joe shook his head. “He disappeared right after lunch. Why? Think he’s up to something?”

  “Maybe. Then again, he could just be avoiding James.”

  “Yeah,” Joe agreed. “Totally understandable. I’d like to avoid James more myself. He’s been in the great room for the past half hour bragging about how much he can bench-press.”

  “No wonder Mikey’s been under our radar until now,” I mused. “Half the time he’s not around.”

  Joe headed back toward the great room. I headed for the bedrooms. Mikey wasn’t in any of them, or in the bathroom, either.

  I was coming back down the dramatic S-shaped staircase when I heard a door open. Looking over into what used to be the billiards room, I spotted Mikey. He was coming out of the Deprivation Chamber—the podlike structure where we were supposed to go if we wanted to vent to the cameras about anything. Joe and I had made a point of going in there a time or two each. We figured it would make our fake IDs stronger if we pretended to complain about each other and how hard it was to be reunited in front of the cameras and stuff.