Dangerous Deception (2 page)

I got up, retrieved Sophie's entry, and stuck it in my backpack. My group at school needed a community service project. Maybe I had found it.

Mom could lose her job if she personally helped someone who entered the contest, but Dunbar's couldn't fire me or my classmates. Mom didn't give me the letter. If I don't tell her what I'm doing, she won't be in trouble.

R
ight after lunch the next day, Mrs. Reed had us divide into our community service groups. “In half an hour,” she said, “I want each group to submit their first choice for a project.”

Crystal Warren said, “There's going to be a new TV show called
The Biggest Helpers
, about kids who do service projects. The group with the best project wins a million dollars!”

We all looked at Crystal but said nothing. Crystal often announces “news” that she swears came from reliable sources but are really the ridiculous headlines on tabloid newspapers, or maybe just stuff she makes up. The rest of us had learned long ago not to pay any attention to Crystal.

“Get into your groups, please,” Mrs. Reed said.

Jelly Bean and Shoeless picked up right where they had left off the day before.

“First choice,” said Shoeless, “is an after-school pizza party for the hungriest group in Cedar Hill. Us.”

“Second choice,” said Jelly Bean, “would be if we go to Dairy Queen instead of getting pizza.”

“We are not doing any project that feeds us,” Lauren said.

“This is supposed to be something to benefit the community,” Abby said.

“There are kids in Cedar Hill who are really hungry,” I said. “They are the ones we need to help.”

“I'm really hungry,” said Shoeless. He wiggled his ears up and down, as if that would prove how emaciated he was.

“So am I,” said Jelly Bean. “If a Hunger Meter could measure how empty my stomach is, I would hold the world's record.”

“Give me a break,” said Abby.

“You guys are lame,” said Hunter.

“Yeah?” said Jelly Bean. “Well, let's hear one of you come up with a good community service project.”

“I have one,” I said as I took Sophie's contest entry out of my backpack, “but before I tell you what it is, you have to promise to keep it a secret.”

“We're going undercover for a drug sting!” said Shoeless. “Hoo-ha! I've always wanted to be a plainclothes detective.”

“It isn't a drug sting,” I said.

“If it's your idea, it must involve chocolate,” said Hunter. “I saw you eat three cupcakes at lunch yesterday.”

“I forgot to bring a lunch, and I didn't want to get sick from eating Gag Casserole,” I said. I wanted to add that what I eat is none of his business, but I didn't.

“So, what's the project?” asked Jelly Bean.

“You won't tell anyone?”

Curiosity prompted them all to agree to keep the secret, so I read Sophie's entry out loud. For once, Shoeless and Jelly Bean had no smart remarks.

“Wow,” Abby said. “That girl sounds desperate.”

“Her little sister cries herself to sleep because she's so hungry,” Hunter said, as if he had to say it out loud in order to believe it.

“This project will be simple,” said Jelly Bean. “All we have to do is mail the entry to one of the TV stations. They'll read it on the air and a couple of hundred people will send a bunch of food and money. Problem solved.”

“That would work, except for one thing,” I said. “As I said, the contest entry has to remain a secret. We can't tell anyone about it.”

“What's the big deal about keeping quiet?” Shoeless asked. “This is one of those stories that TV announcers love. It's a tearjerker when they read it on the air, and then two days later they can say what generous viewers they have, and take credit for solving Sophie's problem.”

“It's against the contest rules for Dunbar's to show the entries to anyone else,” I said. “If we go public with this, my mom gets fired.”

“We have a major problem,” said Hunter.

Mrs. Reed interrupted by announcing, “You have five more minutes to decide on your first choice for a project.”

“We can't tell her, either,” I said.

“Why not?” said Abby. “We could show her Sophie's entry, and explain why we have to keep it secret, and ask if we can have a food drive. We can call it something generic like ‘Food for Hungry Children' so that Mrs. Reed is the only one besides our group who knows where the food will go.”

“That might work,” I said, wishing I'd thought of it myself.

“Let's try it,” said Lauren.

“Yes,” said Hunter. “The worst that can happen is she'll say no and then we'll have to think of a different community service project.”

“There's always Dairy Queen or pizza,” said Shoeless.

Abby said, “I move that we show the letter to Mrs. Reed and explain why we can't tell anyone else.”

“Since I am a totally unselfish person who always puts others first,” said Jelly Bean, “I vote yes.”

“Even though I am seriously malnourished myself,” said Shoeless, “I vote yes.”

“Oh, brother,” said Lauren.

It was unanimous, and the group chose me to present our proposal to Mrs. Reed.

The other groups from my class all gave their proposals orally. Their spokesperson simply stood and explained what the group wanted to do. When my turn came, I said, “My group needs to present a written proposal.”

“Oh?” said Mrs. Reed. “Why is that?” I think she suspected that we weren't ready and were trying to buy extra time, but I had been writing down our proposed project while the other groups presented their ideas.

I held up my paper and Sophie's contest entry. “If you read our proposal, I think you'll understand,” I said.

Mrs. Reed looked unconvinced, but she took the two papers. She read my group's proposal first, in which I explained about Dunbar's rules and how Mom could lose her job. I could see her expression change as she read what Sophie had written. When she had finished reading, she said, “Your proposal is approved. Please stay in for a few minutes during afternoon recess so that I can talk to you about it.”

I looked at Lauren, Abby, and Hunter. They were grinning at me. Jelly Bean and Shoeless high-fived each other. Our project was approved. Now all we had to do was figure out how to make it work.

When the other kids left for recess, my group hovered around Mrs. Reed's desk.

“This will not be an official class project if we can't talk about it in class,” she said, “but I am willing to give you credit for it, anyway. However, you will need to tell your mother what you are doing, Emmy.”

I gulped. “I can't do that,” I said. “If she knew, then she would make us stop.”

“I do not condone hiding your actions from your parents,” she said. “What if the secret gets out? What if someone at Dunbar's finds out what you're doing?”

“If that happens,” I said, “I want to be able to say that Mom didn't know anything about it. I can say she told me at the start that I couldn't help Sophie, and she had no idea that I had gone ahead.”

Mrs. Reed sighed. “In this case,” she said, “perhaps it is better if your parents don't know what you're doing. For that matter, it would be better if I didn't know what you are doing, either, so from here on, you are on your own and if anyone asks if this is a school project, the answer is no.”

We all stared at her. “Your mother is not the only one who could get in trouble for breaking the rules,” she said. “You may go to recess now.”

We all trooped out to the playground but none of us felt like playing kickball or scaling the new rock-climbing wall. Instead we clumped together by the drinking fountain and considered our next move.

“Instead of having a big school-wide food drive,” I said, “we'll each have to collect donations on our own.”

“I can ask my grandma,” Abby said.

“My neighbors are good about supporting whatever I'm involved in,” said Hunter.

“Collecting food won't be the only hard part,” I said. “We also have to deliver it to Sophie's house. I looked up her address, and she lives on the east side of Cedar Hill, over by the gravel pit.”

Our school sat on the western edge of town and, since it was a neighborhood school, my classmates and I all lived on the west side.

“That's way too far to walk,” Lauren said, “especially if we're carrying bags of groceries.”

“My brother got his driver's license last week,” Jelly Bean said. “He's always looking for an excuse to drive the car. If I tell my parents I have a load of stuff to take to school for an assignment, they'll let Chance drive me tomorrow and then, after school, he can take all the food to Sophie's house.”

“Can we trust Chance to keep quiet about it?” I asked.

“He never tells our parents anything,” Jelly Bean said, “and there would be no reason to tell his buddies. They're high-and-mighty juniors who don't believe it's possible that sixth graders would do anything of interest to them.”

By the time recess ended we had a plan. Each of us would try to collect one grocery bag full of food items after school that day. We'd bring our bags to school the next morning, and Jelly Bean would arrange for his brother to pick him up after school. We'd load all our food into Chance's car, and Jelly Bean and I would ride along to deliver it to Sophie's house. Chance would drive me home afterward.

“Then what?” said Lauren.

“Tomorrow night I'll write up a report for Mrs. Reed, with a copy for each of you,” I said. I felt satisfied and efficient. We were going to help a girl who really needed assistance, and fulfill our community service assignment at the same time.

“I mean what happens to Sophie after tomorrow?” Lauren said. “The food we collect will probably last only a week or two and then she'll be right back in the same predicament she's in now. We need to find a more permanent solution.”

My satisfaction leaked away. Lauren was right. Our plan for tomorrow was a good one, but it was like pumping air into a bike tire without fixing the leak. Sophie's family might require help for many weeks, and I couldn't think of any way to make that happen.

“I wonder if Sophie knows about the food bank,” Hunter said. “Her family could get groceries there.”

“She might not have transportation to go there, or a way to carry the food home,” said Shoeless.

“Maybe we should go to the food bank,” Abby said. “We can talk to someone there and tell them we know of a family who needs help. We can ask what to do.”

“Does anyone know where the food bank is?” I asked.

Heads shook.

“I'll find out,” Lauren offered. “I'll learn where it is and when it's open and how it works.”

• • •

On the way home from school, I worried about what would happen if our plan wasn't kept secret. Besides me, five people in my group, plus Mrs. Reed, knew what we were doing. Soon Jelly Bean's brother would know, too. It would take only one slip of the tongue as someone asked for a donation of food and our project would be uncovered. If that happened, then what? What about Mom's job? How much trouble would I be in? Rain trickled down the bus windows, making the view as dreary as my mood.

I had felt fairly confident that we could pull this off when it was a school food drive; doing it on our own was more complicated. If the food bank didn't work out for Sophie's family, we would need to collect more food later, but I couldn't ask my neighbors over and over.

How would we know if Sophie's family was okay or if they needed more help? Perhaps instead of leaving the food anonymously I should tell Sophie who I am and how to contact me. But what if her mom called my house and my mom answered? Our community service project hadn't even started yet and we already had problems.

When I got home, I pushed my concerns aside. My grandma always says to do what needs to be done today and let tomorrow worry about itself. I found a big cloth tote bag to hold the food I collected. Luckily, Mom had felt well enough to return to work that morning so I didn't have to explain my actions.

Whenever I have to sell stuff for school, Mom and Dad always insist that I go with a friend, rather than knocking on doors by myself. This time I was alone, so I went only to the homes of neighbors I know. That way, I'd be safe.

By the time I left on my mission, the April showers had stopped and the dark clouds had moved on, replaced by sky the color of a first-place ribbon. My mood brightened, too. I'm doing a good thing, I told myself. I'm helping someone who is less fortunate, so how can that lead to trouble?

I decided to go to the houses at the far end of my block first, and work my way home so I wouldn't have to carry the food both directions.

I skipped Mrs. Braider, who lives next door to me. Even though I was certain Mrs. Braider would contribute, I also knew I could count on her to say something to Mom about it. Mrs. Braider is one of those gossipy people who spends her time poking her nose into other people's business.

When I was three, Mom had turned the hose to a slight drizzle on a hot summer day and allowed me to water the flowers in our backyard. I had a wonderful time until Mrs. Braider called Mom to report that I was wasting water by sprinkling the fence instead of the roses, and Mom told me to stop. After that, I had thought of our neighbor as Big Mouth Braider.

In the years since then, the trees and shrubs in our backyard had grown thick and tall, blocking off her view. Now she could spy on us only when we were out in front.

I hurried past her house with my empty tote bag, and then again when I returned with the bag loaded with food items.

When I told my neighbors that my class was collecting food for a needy family, they generously handed over cans of soup, baked beans, evaporated milk, and spaghetti sauce. I received a box of oatmeal, packets of hot chocolate mix, two kinds of crackers, macaroni-and-cheese mix, and even a big tin of fancy mixed nuts, the expensive kind with lots of cashews.

The nuts came from Mrs. Woodburn, who lives with a parrot named Popeye.

“Go away!” squawked Popeye, when I rang the doorbell. “Go away!”