Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook (6 page)

BOOK: Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook
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"No," she said flatly. Oh, well. My bribe hadn't worked anyway. She burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. This was really getting frustrating. I tried not to feel angry at Charlotte. She wasn't feeling well, she missed her parents, she. was worried about her grandpa, and she was stuck in a strange house. I guess I might have felt cranky and uncooperative, too, if I'd been her.

If I were her. . . . Suddenly I had a brainstorm. Maybe taking just a teaspoon full of nasty medicine wouldn't seem all that terrible if she could see what I had-to go through every day, just to stay healthy. It just might work.

"Charlotte, you know I have diabetes, right?" I knew she knew, because I've dis-

cussed my diabetes with Dr. Johanssen, in front of Charlotte.

Charlotte kind of grunted, but she didn't budge from her "nest" in the couch.

"Want me to show you the medicine I have to take?" I asked. "We'll forget about yours for now."

That got her moving. She followed me upstairs and I opened the desk drawer where I keep all my equipment. I tried to explain a little bit about diabetes and why it makes me sick and how insulin helps to keep it in check. I'm not sure how well she followed me. She'd probably never heard of a "pancreas" before.

"I didn't
used
to have to do this, but since I haven't been feeling too well lately, now I have to check my glucose level a few times a day," I said. "All I do is prick my finger, like this — "

Charlotte gasped as I pricked my finger and squeezed out a tiny drop of blood. I wiped it onto something called a test strip and put the strip into a little machine. In a minute the number came up. 110. That was just about normal for me at this time of day. Charlotte was fascinated.

"Knowing what my number is helps me

make sure to take the right amount of insulin. When I'm ready to take my insulin, I load up this syringe and give myself a shot." I wasn't going to show her how I did that. It might really scare her.

The shots don't hurt me anymore — I'm so used to them by now. But to someone else, especially someone Charlotte's age, it might be frightening.

I told her some more about what it meant to be a diabetic. Like how this was something I'd have to deal with every day for the rest of my life. And how I had to be extremely careful about what I ate, and why. Charlotte's eyes got rounder and rounder. She'd had no idea of what I went through just to control my illness.

"Shots every single day? Oh, Stacey, you're so brave," she said when I'd finished explaining everything.

"Not really, Charlotte. This is just how things are for me. I don't have any choice in the matter," I said. "Anyway, it feels good to take care of myself."

Well, after all that, it was no trick at all to get Charlotte to take her medicine. She barely made a face as she swallowed it down.

"Good girl," I said. "Now, let's get you into bed."

She changed into her pajamas while I put a clean pillowcase on her pillow. I always think it feels good to have a fresh pillowcase to rest your head on when you're sick. I also set up her room for the day. I brought in our little portable TV and stocked the shelves with more games, drawing paper and crayons, and books.

While Charlotte got settled into bed, I went down to the kitchen to make her a snack. I set up a tray with that ice-cream soda I'd promised her. When I'm sick, my mom always puts a flower in a little vase on my dinner tray, so I did that, too. Charlotte deserved to be spoiled a little; just think, she'd been getting sick all that time and nobody had paid attention to her complaints. I got myself a glass of ice water and took the tray upstairs.

Charlotte and I spent the whole day in her room, playing every game I had. Yes, that does include War, if you're wondering. We also watched TV and I read to her for awhile before she dropped off for a nap. While she slept, I just stayed in the room and read to myself. It was a peaceful afternoon.

That night, Charlotte called her parents. She wanted to let them know that she was sick but getting better. She also wanted to check on her grandfather. She talked to her mom for

just a few minutes, and by the end of the call she was beaming. Her grandpa's operation had gone very well and he was feeling much better. The Johanssens would be back home on Thursday, just as they'd planned. Charlotte was definitely on the road to recovery.

Chapter 8.

By Sunday morning, Charlotte was feeling much better. Penicillin does work fast. It hadn't been easy getting her to take her medicine on schedule — she still hated it — but at least she had taken most of it.

Charlotte came downstairs for breakfast, and Mom made special sugar-free blueberry pancakes. Yum. I love them because they're so good on their own that I don't even miss being able to have maple syrup. Charlotte ate a big stack of them. She was definitely better.

But Dr. Dellenkamp had said that even if she was feeling all right, Charlotte should take it easy on Sunday and Monday. She wasn't supposed to go to school until Tuesday.

Tuesday seemed a long way off. I was sick of playing War, sick of being Professor Plum in Clue, and very sick of TV. I was even sick of reading
Charlotte's Web.

What were we going to do all day? I think

Charlotte was just as tired as I was of being cooped up, especially now that she was feeling more normal.

Then I remembered that Kristy had called on Saturday to tell me about some map she'd found on Friday night. Maybe she could come over and bring the map, along with some of those old books of Watson's. Kristy had said she really hadn't found much in the books, but maybe if we went through them all, we'd come up with something. It would be fun to play detective, anyway. I called Kristy up.

"Kristy, it's Stace. What're you doing today?"

"I've got no plans," she said. "I don't even have to watch the kids, since Mom and Watson took them to the mall to shop for shoes."

"How about bringing over that old map and the books?" I said. "Charlotte's home sick, here, and we'd love to look at them."

"Great," said Kristy. "Hold on, let me see if Nannie can drive me over."

The arrangements were made. While we waited for Kristy, Charlotte and I washed the breakfast dishes. Then she took her medicine without fussing too much. Finally we settled in on the front steps (Charlotte had felt good enough to get dressed that morning) and waited for Kristy to show up. While we

waited, we talked about the old house.

"I'm glad we were together when we heard those noises, Stacey," said Charlotte. "That was scary. But you know, I feel like there's something interesting about that house. I hope we can find out more about it."

I told her a little about the map Kristy had found, but not too much. I thought that the idea of burial grounds might be a little too much for Charlotte, but she seemed fascinated.

By the time Kristy got out of the Pink Clinker (Nannie's old car) in front of our house, Charlotte's excitement was at an all-time high.

"Where are the books, Kristy?" she asked, without even saying hello. She would have dived into the backseat and hauled out the box if I hadn't stopped her.

"Easy, Charlotte. You're still sick, remember?" I said. "I know you love mysteries, but let's take our time. We've got all day."

Charlotte does love mysteries, and I have to say that she's a pretty good sleuth. She played a big part in solving the mystery of an old diary that Mallory had found in a trunk in our attic. That mystery had led us to find the portrait of a beautiful woman, which now hung over our fireplace. Back then, we thought my house might be haunted, but that was nothing

compared to what we were facing now.

We brought the box of books inside and spread ourselves out in the living room. We each took a book and began to read. After awhile we traded books and read some more. Kristy had been right. There wasn't much in them. They were interesting, but we couldn't see any clues to the mystery of the old house.

"Where's that map, Kristy?" I asked. "Let's take a look at it."

Kristy took it out and opened it carefully.

"Wow, that's really old, isn't it?" asked Charlotte. "The writing on it is so weird. What does it say?"

I couldn't make it out too well, either, but it did seem to show that house. As far as the burial-ground business, I couldn't be sure. The map wasn't like any I'd ever seen. It had strange signs and symbols on it, and markings in a faded red color. I wondered if it was the real McCoy or just something someone had made up for fun.

"How do we know that this map is really as old as it looks?" I asked.

Kristy and Charlotte both just gave me a look. They wanted to believe in the map and in the mystery of the old house. They had no doubts about the map being genuine.

"I wonder who owns that house," I said. I

was really starting to get interested in that "dumb old house," in spite of myself. Laine would never believe it. If she ever got involved in a mystery back in New York, it would probably have to do with something like, "Who stole the countess's jewels from the hotel safe?" or "Does the ghost of Elvis haunt the Hard Rock Cafe?"

"I don't know who owns it. Nobody's lived there for years," Kristy said. "But I don't remember there ever being a 'for sale' sign in front of that house."

"Do you think the owner is even still alive?" asked Charlotte. She gulped. "Maybe that was his ghost we heard."

"No, he must be alive somewhere. How else could that developer ever have bought the house in order to knock it down?" Kristy looked thoughtful. "I wonder if we could find him."

"You keep saying 'he/ " I said. "The owner
could
be a woman, you know. Anyway, how can we find out who the owner is? Do you think
she
still lives in the area?"

"We could find out everything we need to know about the house if only we could track him — or her — down," said Kristy. "Maybe Mary Anne would have some good ideas. Her family has lived around here for a long time."

I went to the phone and dialed Mary Anne's number. Luckily, she was home.

"Mary Anne, did you hear about the map that Kristy found?" I asked, after we'd said hello, how are you, and all that. She hadn't, so I told her about it.

"It sounds like a mystery, all right," she said. "But where do we go from here?" I didn't know what to tell her.

Kristy motioned for me to give her the phone. "Mary Anne," she said. "Keep on the lookout for clues. You never know where you might find one. Maybe there are some old books or documents somewhere in that old house of yours."

Since Mary Anne lived with Dawn now, they really might find some clues in their house. It's one of the oldest houses around here, and it has some mysteries of its own. That secret passage has been the site of all kinds of strange happenings.

"Dawn's out sitting for the Rodowskys, but as soon as she gets back I'll ask her if she's got any ideas," said Mary Anne. "It's kind of fun to have another mystery to solve, isn't it?"

Next we called Claudia. She got all excited about the books and the map, and she wanted to come right over and look at them and hear more about what Kristy had found out. She

was stuck at home, though, doing homework. (Claud's really smart — even if she isn't an actual genius like her sister, Janine — but her grades don't show it. If she doesn't keep her grades up she might have to quit the Babysitters Club. No way did we want that to happen.)

"Stay put and do your homework, Claud," I said. "But keep your eyes and ears open in the next few days. You can never tell where or when a due might turn up."

We tried to call Mallory, since she loves mysteries, too, but Mrs. Pike said that Mal had taken Margo and Claire (two of her little sisters) on a special Teddy Bears' Picnic. Mal's such a terrific big sister. I remembered now that she'd been planning this for awhile. She was going to make little sandwiches and "tea," and help the girls dress up their teddy bears in special outfits. It sounded like fun. I asked Mrs. Pike to tell Mallory to call me back when she got home.

We didn't even try to call Jessi, since we knew she was away for the weekend. So that was everyone. If we all kept on the alert for clues, maybe we could crack this case.

To be honest, I didn't really even know for sure if we had a mystery on our hands. This burial-ground story was hard to prove, and

that old map was so hard to read. I wasn't positive that Kristy had gotten it right. Maybe all that stuff we'd seen and heard at the house was just our imaginations. Maybe we were making something out of nothing.

But there was Charlotte, sitting on the couch with one of Watson's old books. She was flipping through it one more time, combing for dues. I could see that, for awhile anyway, she'd forgotten that she was sick. She'd forgotten that she was stuck inside for another day and a half. And she'd forgotten that her parents were a plane ride away. Mystery or not, the old house was keeping us both busy, and I was thankful for that.

Chapter 9.

On Monday, Claud had a job sitting for the Perkins girls, Gabbie and Myriah. Gabbie's almost three, and Myriah's almost six. We all like them a lot. They also have a baby sister named Laura. Mrs. Perkins was taking Laura to Dr. Dellenkamp to have her cough checked out.

BOOK: Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook
4.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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