Danger at the Fair (6 page)

“There you are.” Nicholas’s mother approached the picnic table. When she reached the boys, she put her hand on Nicholas’s forehead. “You’re sick, aren’t you!” It was a statement, not a question. “You probably ate too many of those fatty French fries.”

“No, he didn’t,” whispered Corey. “All he ate was a corn dog, a bag of taffy, two scones, some onion rings, a Polish sausage, and an ice-cream cone.”

“Ohhh,” said Nicholas, as if it made him sicker to hear the words.

“Your voice!” cried Mrs. Warren. “Corey, what happened to your voice?”

Corey tried to say, “I think I screamed too much,” but even the whisper was gone now. His words were much too faint for anyone to hear. He pointed at the roller coaster.

“You went on the
roller coaster?
”

Nicholas groaned again and Corey realized he should not have pointed.

“Well, it’s small wonder you’re sick, Nicholas,” his mother said. “I thought you had more sense than to ride on a roller coaster. It’s a miracle you’re alive to tell about it. We’re going straight home and put you in bed.”

To Corey’s surprise, Nicholas did not argue. He nodded meekly, as if bed sounded good to him.

Corey poked Nicholas’s arm and then pointed at The River of Fear. Nicholas shook his head and put his hand over his mouth again.

Phooey. What rotten luck for Nicholas to get sick before they could go on the best ride of all.

“Come along, Corey,” said Mrs. Warren.

“I’ll ride home with Ellen,” Corey wheezed.

“What’s that? I can’t hear a word,” said Mrs. Warren.

Corey pointed to himself and mouthed the words, “My sister.”

“I think he wants to stay here and go home with Ellen and Caitlin,” Nicholas said.

Corey nodded vigorously.

“I can’t leave you here by yourself,” Mrs. Warren said. “Where is your sister?”

Corey dropped to his hands and knees at Mrs. Warren’s feet.

“Good heavens,” said Mrs. Warren.

Corey mouthed the words, “Baa, baa.”

Mrs. Warren looked at him, blinking nervously.

“Caitlin’s cousin shows sheep for 4-H,” Nicholas said. “Maybe Ellen is in the sheep barn or the show arena.”

Corey nodded again.

“We go past the 4-H buildings on our way out of the fair,” Mrs. Warren said. “If your sister is there, we’ll ask if you can stay with her.”

She took Nicholas by the arm and led him away from the midway. Corey trailed behind, eating his curly fries. As they passed the bottle-throw booth, he saw a group of girls, each buying a turn to throw. He wanted to shout, “Save your money! That guy cheats!” but without a voice, all he could do was feel sorry for the girls.

When they reached the 4-H complex, Mrs. Warren said, “We’ll look in the show arena but if your sister isn’t there, we can’t traipse all around hunting for her.”

Corey was relieved to see Ellen and Caitlin sitting in the top row of the show arena. Corey nudged Mrs. Warren and pointed at the girls. Mrs. Warren waved at Ellen.

Ellen waved back.

“What happened to your brother’s face?” Caitlin asked.

“He got cut when he fell off the monkey bars at the park,” Ellen said. “It’s healed now except for a scab across his cheek but he insists on wearing that stupid Batman bandage.”

“Nicholas and I will wait here,” Mrs. Warren said, “while you go up and ask Ellen if it’s all right for you to stay and go home with her.”

Before Corey could do so, Nicholas bolted toward one of the trash cans that stood just inside the door. He leaned into
the trash can and threw up. Mrs. Warren handed him a tissue to wipe his mouth, then turned to Corey. “Stay with your sister,” she said.

“I will.”

Mrs. Warren put her arm around Nicholas and pushed open the door.

Corey wished Nicholas wasn’t sick. It wouldn’t be half as much fun to scream on the scary rides alone. Ellen never wanted to ride anything except the merry-go-round. He sighed and turned toward the steps to join Ellen and Caitlin.

“Sorry,” said a voice at his elbow. “No food is allowed in the stands.

Corey went outside to finish his curly fries. As he emerged, he heard someone crying loudly. Looking toward the noise, he saw the same boy who had been near the bottle-throw booth. Once again, the boy was crying and pointing at an ice-cream cone on the ground while his mother tried to calm him. That kid, thought Corey, should buy ice cream in a cup and eat it with a spoon.

“Hey!!”

Corey looked at the gray-haired man who had shouted.

“Someone took my wallet!” the man yelled. “Everyone stay where you are! Call the police!”

Corey could hardly believe his ears.
Another
pickpocket? He quickly scanned the crowd of people, most of whom reacted to the man’s shouts by clutching their own wallets and purses.

There he was!

The man in the dark shirt with the
MADE IN THE U.S.A.
shopping bag was easing past the people who had stopped to stare at the shouter.

Corey tried to yell, “That’s him! He’s the thief!” but he
could not make a sound. Corey watched as the man moved quickly through the crowd, shaking his head at the other people as if to say,
How terrible.

Corey couldn’t let the man get away. Forgetting his promise to stay with Ellen, he took off across the fairgrounds after the thief.

CHAPTER
6

“
I’M GOING
to go talk to The Great Sybil again,” Ellen said.

“Now?” said Caitlin. “The 4-H kids are bringing their sheep in. We’ll miss Ben.”

“You can stay and watch the sheep show. I’ll come back here when I’m finished.”

“Are you sure you want to go back there?” Caitlin said. “All this talk about danger and spirits and messages from dead people makes me nervous.”

“I want to ask The Great Sybil some questions,” Ellen said, “and I won’t get to the fair again without my parents.”

Caitlin nodded sympathetically. “Say no more,” she said. “My mom would never let me visit The Great Sybil, either. Do you want me to tell Corey anything if he shows up? Should I ask him to stay here until you come back?”

“I doubt he’ll be back. He and Nicholas planned to ride on every ride and eat something from every food booth. Corey’s
been saving his allowance for weeks so he could blow it all at the fair.”

“Maybe the great danger is that he’ll get sick from eating too much junk food at the fair,” Caitlin said.

“Not when he’s with Mrs. Warren. She’s really careful about good nutrition. Whenever Nicholas comes to our house, he always wants candy because he never gets it at home; Nicholas says his mother would rather eat broccoli than fudge.”

Spectators poured into the arena as the exhibitors led their sheep into position. Bleats and baas filled the air, along with broadcast directions from the judges, telling the exhibitors how to line up.

Ellen started down the steps, eager to see The Great Sybil again. Now that she was over the first shock and had thought about it awhile, the idea of being able to communicate with Grandpa excited her. If she really could get a message and prove that it was from him, maybe Grandma would stop crying so much. And maybe her own heart would heal. It wouldn’t seem as bad to have Grandpa gone if she knew his spirit still existed.

Behind her, Caitlin said, “Wait. I’ll go with you. I’ve seen Ben show his sheep before but I’ve never seen someone get a message from a spirit.”

Ellen shook her head. “It’s nice of you to offer,” she said, “but I know you want to watch the sheep competition and it’s almost ready to start.”

“I don’t want you going back there alone,” Caitlin said firmly, as she followed Ellen to the exit. “This whole thing is too weird.”

Ellen smiled gratefully at her friend. “I could wait and go after Ben shows his sheep,” she said.

“No,” Caitlin said. “This is more important than sheep.”

They left the show arena and headed toward The Great Sybil’s trailer.

COREY DASHED
after the man. When he caught him, he planned to grab the shopping bag and summon help. As soon as the police found the victim’s wallet in the man’s shopping bag, they would arrest the man. Probably the woman’s purse was still in the shopping bag, too. Corey might get his picture in the paper yet.

The fairgrounds were crowded, making it difficult for the man to move fast without attracting attention. Since he didn’t know anyone was chasing him, Corey gained on him quickly.

Just outside one of the exhibit halls, Corey caught up. He approached the man from behind and grabbed the shopping bag, pulling it out of the startled man’s grasp. He tried to yell, “Help!” at the same time but he only managed a faint wheeze.

“Give me that!” the man said, as he tried to take back the bag.

Corey crossed his arms and held the bag handles tightly against his chest. He looked around him for one of the uniformed security guards who had responded when the woman’s purse was stolen, but none was in sight.

“Why, you sneaky little thief!” the man said. He grabbed Corey’s shoulder and turned to two teenaged boys who stood nearby. “This kid is trying to steal my bag,” he said.

The boys instantly grabbed Corey’s arm and pried his hands loose from the shopping bag. “That was a stupid move, kid,” one of them said.

“
He’s
the thief,” Corey rasped but in addition to having no
voice, he was out of breath from running and he could tell the boys did not understand him.

The boys handed the bag back to the man.

“Thank you,” he said.

Corey glared at him. This time he paid attention to the man’s appearance. Medium height. Brown hair. Dark blue shirt and pants. A gold wristwatch. There was nothing remarkable about the man’s appearance and Corey realized that he probably dressed in a nondescript way on purpose. If he wore a wild-colored plaid shirt or a T-shirt with a saying on the front, witnesses would be able to remember him. This way, he blended into the crowd and slipped away unnoticed.

“Are you going to call the cops?” one of the teenagers asked.

“No,” the man said. “He has probably learned a lesson.”

In frustration, Corey tried to wriggle free. He knew the man didn’t want to call the cops because if the police came they would discover who the guilty person really was.

The man turned and walked toward the entrance of the building.

Corey twisted and jerked. He pointed at the man’s shopping bag and tried to whisper, “Thief.”

“Knock it off, kid,” one of the teenagers said. He and his buddy, each firmly holding one of Corey’s arms, ushered him away from the building. “You’re lucky that guy didn’t turn you in,” the older boy continued. “If you keep this up, you’ll be spending the night in the juvenile detention center.”

The two boys kept a tight grip on Corey until they had walked for several minutes. Corey glared at them, studying their faces and memorizing what they wore. When the police finally arrested that pickpocket, Corey intended to give a complete description of these two boys. Maybe they would be
arrested, too, for obstructing justice. Maybe
they
would spend the night in the juvenile detention center.