Chicken Pox Panic, the (3 page)

“When can we start?” Stacy asked.

“As soon as my bumps crust over,” said Abby.

Stacy leaned down and looked under the bed.

“What are you doing?” Abby said, remembering the atlas she hid there. She held her breath.

“Finding my family tree,” said Stacy. “I hid it under here.” She pulled out the book of maps. “Hey, what's this?”

Abby's heart beat fast. “A project I have.”

She wished Stacy wouldn't ask.

“For school?” Stacy asked.

“Uh . . . no,” said Abby, trying not to tell.

“What for?”

Abby scratched her head. “I can't tell.” She pulled her knees up to her chin . . . thinking. About the doubly dabbly most creative birthday cake in the world!

“Come on, Abby. I can keep a secret,” said Stacy.

“I know,” Abby said.

“Then tell me, or I'll have to solve your mystery, too. I'll call it the Mystery of the Map Book,” Stacy said.

Abby wasn't worried. Not one bit. Stacy couldn't solve a mystery even if she tried.

SIX

It was Wednesday.

Abby's bumps were scabby, so she went back to school.

At recess Stacy and Abby met near the swings.

“I have a plan,” Abby said.

Stacy looked around to see if anyone was listening. “About my adoption?” she whispered.

Abby nodded. “When does your mother get home?”

“5:30.”

“That gives us plenty of time. Today I'll solve your mystery,” Abby said.

Stacy cheered, “All right! Meet me at my house after school.”

When the bell rang after school, both girls raced toward Blossom Hill Lane—the cul-de-sac.

The wind was blowing hard.

Abby dug her hands into her coat pockets. A quarter was in one pocket. Three gummy bears were in the other.

Abby ran beside Stacy.

The cul-de-sac seemed quiet as they entered Stacy's house. Sunday Funnies, Stacy's cock-a-poo, barked as they came in the door. He shook his furry white head.

The girls headed straight for the master bedroom.

Stacy pointed to a file drawer. “My mother keeps important papers in there,” she said.

Abby's heart pounded. She felt like a jitterbox inside.
This isn't right
, Abby worried.
We shouldn't be snooping
.

Then Abby looked at Stacy's face. This was
something important, and she wanted to help her friend.

Abby took a deep breath and pulled the handle.

Locked!

“Where's the key?” she asked.

“I don't know,” said Stacy.

“Let's look around.” Abby led the way.

First, to the closet. They looked in the shoe boxes. No key.

They looked in the lamp table beside the bed. A package of gum, some tissues, and a Bible were inside. But no key. Abby felt even worse about snooping.

“Where could it be?” asked Abby. “Think hard.”

Stacy scratched her head. “Where would
you
hide a key?”

“Good question!” Abby dashed off to the kitchen.

“Now what?” asked Stacy.

Abby went to the refrigerator. She opened the freezer door. “This is the safest place in
the house,” Abby said. “In case of fire, the freezer is a good place to keep important stuff.” She pulled three pizza boxes out.

Stacy took out a half gallon of ice cream. And bags of strawberries from her grandma's garden. There were frozen vegetables. A pot roast. Two bags of hot dogs. The girls stacked them on the floor.

Sunday Funnies sniffed at the carton of ice cream.

Abby peeked in the freezer. “Well, that's it. There's nothing left.”

Then she spotted something shiny way in the back.

It was a key stuck to the side.

“Look at this!” shouted Abby, grabbing the key.

“You're amazing!” Stacy said as the girls raced back to the bedroom.

Abby turned the lock and opened the file drawer. “Look under the B's for birth certificate,” she said.

Stacy found the file folder and pulled it out.

Opening the folder, Abby saw only one birth certificate. It was Stacy's mother's.

“See what I mean?” said Stacy.

Abby thought for a minute.
Maybe Stacy is right. Maybe she is adopted!

Detectives don't cry. But Abby sure felt like it when she saw Stacy's face. Being adopted was a
good
thing. Why hadn't Stacy's mother told her?

Then she remembered the freezer. And all the food. “Hurry, before your mom gets home!”

The girls raced to the kitchen.

“Oh, no!” cried Stacy. “I'm in trouble now.”

Sunday Funnies crouched under the table. He had torn the pot roast open and was half finished with the ice cream. Chocolate ice cream was all over his face and paws.

“Quick! We have to do something before my mother gets home!”

Abby took the ice cream carton away from Sunday Funnies. She threw it in the trash with the slobbery pot roast.

The girls piled the rest of the food back into the freezer.

Then Stacy cleaned up the floor.

“I'll use my allowance to buy another roast. And some ice cream,” Abby said. Then she remembered Shawn's birthday surprise.
Buying ice cream and a pot roast would use up all her savings.

Phooey! So much for the greatest cake in the world
, she thought.

Abby hurried home to get her money. There was a huge lump in her throat.

SEVEN

It was starting to snow.

Abby hopped on her bike and headed for the grocery store. Snowflakes tickled her face.

She pedalled hard, thinking about the cake that could've been.

Now Shawn would never get his birthday cake. All because of the stupid detective stuff!

At the store, Abby found a roast. It looked like the one Sunday Funnies had torn open. She found the same brand of chocolate ice cream. She paid for it with every cent she had.

Pushing sad thoughts away, she headed for Stacy's. At last, she rang the doorbell.

“Come in!” called Stacy. “I'm in the bathroom giving my dog a bath. He's a chocolatey mess.”

“I have another pot roast and some ice cream,” Abby said. “Your mom will never have to know.”

“Thanks,” yelled Stacy. “Sorry about the money.”

“It's my own dumb fault” Abby said. She went into the bathroom.

“No it isn't,” Stacy said. She rubbed more soap on the puppy's head. “We were in it together.”

“I've been thinking,” Abby said. “It doesn't matter if you're adopted. Look how much your parents love you.”

“I know that,” said Stacy. “It's not so much being adopted . . . if I am. I just wish my parents had told me.” Stacy sighed. “Your brothers, Shawn and Jimmy, know all about their adoption.”

“They were older when it happened,” Abby said. She heard the garage door open.
“Sounds like your mom's home,” she said. “I better leave.”

“No, wait,” said Stacy. “I've got an idea.”

“What?” Abby pulled a towel off the rack and handed it to Stacy.

“I'm going to ask my mother some questions. And I want you to listen.” Stacy drained the dirty bath water.

There were footsteps in the hallway. “Stacy, I'm home,” said her mother.

“Coming!” called Stacy. She lifted Sunday Funnies out of the tub.

Abby helped dry him.

“Follow me,” Stacy said.

Abby followed her friend to the kitchen.

Stacy pulled a sheet of paper out of a drawer. She sat down at the table. Abby did, too.

Stacy took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you, Mom.”

“Sure, honey. What's up?”

Stacy shot a nervous look at Abby. “What happened on the day I was born?”

“What do you mean, dear?” her mother asked.

“I need to know for my homework,” Stacy said. “Were you there?”

Stacy's mother looked at her. She set the dishes on the counter. “Of course I was.”

“How soon did you see me?” Stacy asked.

“A few hours after you were born.”

Stacy laughed. “A few hours? That's a long time to wait, don't you think?”

Her mother opened a drawer and took out a spoon. “Why do you ask?”

Abby looked at Stacy. She held her breath.

Stacy stood up. “What happened to my birth certificate?”

“I really don't know,” her mother said. “But we need to set the table now.”

“Did you take any pictures of me when I was born?” Stacy asked.

Mrs. Henry pushed her hair back. She sighed. “I think your father did.”

Stacy wrote something on her paper. “Does he still have them?”

“It's late now, Stacy. You know how sloppy I am at keeping records sometimes. Can we please talk about this later?” her mother said.

Abby stood up. “I better go home now. See you tomorrow, Stacy.”

Stacy scrunched up her face. “OK, Abby.”

Abby felt funny. Stacy's eyes didn't look like things were OK.

They spelled trouble. Big trouble!

Abby felt like a jitterbox.

Something was crazy wrong!

EIGHT

After supper Abby checked under her bed.

Good! The atlas was still there. Her sketch of South Korea marked the page: She stared at the map.

Then she looked at the teddy bear calendar on the wall. Only ten more days till Shawn's birthday!

Abby knelt beside her bed. She prayed, “Please, Lord, help me get some money for my brother's birthday party.”