The Magician's Bird (18 page)

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Authors: Emily Fairlie

BOOK: The Magician's Bird
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“Please!” Laurie said. “Shut it down afterward, that's fine, but you just have to look at it once? Please?”

Laurie tried to fight the panic rising in her chest. They'd made allowances for things going wrong. They knew their plan wasn't foolproof. But they had figured they'd at least be allowed to try.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Betty Abernathy said. “There's no room for discussion. Good-bye, children.”

“But Principal Winkle—” Laurie begged.

“Have some respect, Miss Madison. Now run along, both of you.” Betty Abernathy gave them a pinched smile.

Laurie felt a bony hand clamp down on her shoulder and turned in time to see Miss Abernathy clamp her other hand down on Bud's shoulder. She shot him a desperate look as Miss Abernathy propelled the two of them toward the office door.

Just as she was about to physically push them out, Olivia Hutchins rushed in.

“I'm so sorry to be late, guys! You wouldn't believe the traffic. I think it's those protests they were talking about. People are everywhere.” She put her bag down and then looked around in confusion. “I'm not that
late, am I? Did I miss it?”

“Please, Mrs. Hutchins. We've got the hunt all set up. Please, just see what we've done,” Laurie pleaded.

“Miss Abernathy and I were just telling the kids that we're putting the scavenger hunt on hold. It's just not the time for it.” Principal Winkle looked apologetic.

“Okay,” Mrs. Hutchins said. “That makes sense.”

She looked at Bud and Laurie for a long minute, and then shifted her gaze to rest on Betty Abernathy. She gave Betty a tight-lipped smile. “But that doesn't mean we can't go ahead and see what they've got set up, does it?” She turned to Principal Winkle. “If it's all set up . . .”

“It is!” Bud said, brightening. “Promise!”

Principal Winkle looked at Bud and Laurie. He deliberately didn't look at Betty Abernathy. He sighed. “I don't see what it would hurt. If it's all set up.”

“Great!” Bud and Laurie exchanged grins and discreetly low-fived each other. They were back on track.

EMAIL

FROM: POLICE CHIEF SKIP BURKISS

TO: LURALENE CLATTERBUCK

Luralene,

I'm at the school. There doesn't seem to be
anything going on. This scavenger hunt thing—is it some kind of joke of yours?

I'm not laughing.

Skip

Out of office automatic message from Luralene Clatterbuck

I will be out of the office for the rest of the day. If you need immediate assistance, contact Police Chief Skip Burkiss. If this is you, Skip, I told you I was taking the day. Ask me tomorrow. Luralene

Bud had just pulled the first clue out of his pocket when Police Chief Skip Burkiss strolled up and tapped Principal Winkle on the shoulder.

Principal Winkle blanched. “Chief! Um. How can I help you?”

Skip Burkiss tipped his hat to Principal Winkle and chewed on a toothpick. “Just here to observe. Got a tip about the scavenger hunt.”

Betty Abernathy shot a furious look at Laurie and Bud.

“Not me,” said Laurie, holding up her hand like she was under oath.

“Me either,” said Bud. He was really glad Calliope had taken care of that part of the plan. He would've hated to lie.

“Excellent, excellent,” Principal Winkle said, bobbing up on the balls of his feet. “We were just getting started.” Sweat was beginning to pop up along his hairline. A police investigation was the last thing he needed. The only thing that would make it worse was having the press involved.

“Sorry I'm late.” Ron Becker ran up, his camera swinging from the strap around his neck. “Has it started?”

Principal Winkle stared at him blankly. “Started?”

Police Chief Burkiss shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

“For the scavenger hunt? Reporter Ron Becker for the
Daily Herald
. I got a tip.” Ron Becker pulled a small notebook out of his pocket.

“Uh. No, we were just starting,” said Principal Winkle, shooting Bud and Laurie a black look.

They blinked back innocently. Halos were practically forming over their heads.

Bud cleared his throat and looked down at the clue. “Okay, so the first clue. These are all kind of rough still,
since we were mainly focused on figuring out the locations. But you'll get the gist.”

Rough was an understatement. They'd figured out the clues on the back of a paper bag while Calliope stuck the note onto LeFranco's windshield. That clue would've needed a lot more work to qualify as rough.

Bud glanced nervously at Laurie and started reading. “
Tuckernuckers, brave and true! Today you begin the next phase of the Tuckernuck challenge! You will face hardships on this path, but be stalwart and let neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night keep you from the treasure. Cluck cluck!

Bud lowered the paper. “Stalwart” had been his idea. They'd tried to make the clue sound like the ones Maria Tutweiler had written, and he thought they'd come pretty close. Misti had come up with the cluck cluck part at the end. He wasn't sure that worked, but it was probably fine.

“That's the first clue?” Principal Winkle stared at him.

“That's it,” Laurie said. “See, it's like Maria Tutweiler's first one. We didn't want it to be too obvious.”

Betty Abernathy harrumphed. “That's ridiculous. How is that a clue?” She looked at Principal Winkle and
Mrs. Hutchins. “Am I wrong?”

Mrs. Hutchins smiled. “I think I understood it. I believe we should go to the mailboxes now?”

Laurie grinned at her. “Let's see.” She'd had to look up that post office motto to get it right, but she was glad Mrs. Hutchins had figured it out. When they were writing the clues, it was hard to tell whether they were too hard or too easy. And there was no way they were going with Misti's suggestion. She'd wanted the clue to say “o-gay to the ailbox-may.”

The pack of scavenger hunters hurried over to the mailboxes next to the office. A Post-it note was stuck to the top row with completely nondamaging adhesive. Betty Abernathy ripped it off and looked at it disapprovingly. “I believe this is the second clue?” She sniffed.

Bud and Laurie nodded. “Read it,” Laurie said.

Betty Abernathy pulled the glasses from the chain around her neck and perched them on her nose. “Ouch!” she said, and frowned. “That's the first word—ouch.” She continued reading.

“One hundred pricks I feel without complaint.

Messages I am happy to convey.

Tiny red-capped swords won't make me faint.

I'll tell you how to join the fray.”

Mrs. Hutchins tried not to cringe. Bad poetry always made her nauseous.

“It's a poem,” Bud said.

“It's a bad poem,” Laurie added.

“It's a terrible poem.” Mrs. Hutchins suppressed a smile.

“I understand this one, though,” Betty Abernathy said, smirking. “I believe it was my idea.”

She turned and abruptly trotted away from the mailboxes and down the hall. Laurie and Bud had to jog to keep up with her, but they caught up right outside the bulletin board outside the cafeteria.

Betty Abernathy looked approvingly at the next note, stabbed to the bulletin board with a red pushpin. “Nice.”

“You said the bulletin board would be a good place,” Laurie said. She still thought the bulletin board idea was the lamest ever, but they'd figured a little sucking up would do them a world of good. Apparently they'd been right. Betty Abernathy seemed to have thawed out by at least fifteen degrees. Which still didn't put her above freezing, but was a lot better.

Principal Winkle nodded and unpinned the note. “We can work on the poem,” he said. And by “work on,” he really meant “come up with an entirely different clue.” There were just some things that were too painful to bear, and bad poetry was one of them.

Chief Burkiss ambled up, with Ron Becker close behind him, catching up to the rest of the group. They hadn't seen any need to rush. They both looked doubtful and more than a little irritated.

Laurie wasn't surprised. If she'd been given a hot tip and gotten a lousy poem instead, she'd be pretty irritated too. She just hoped they stuck around for the payoff.

Principal Winkle cleared his throat and held the clue up in front of him. “Rabbi Icy Antler.” He looked around expectantly.

“Pardon?” Police Chief Skip Burkiss took the toothpick out of his mouth.

Principal Winkle turned red. “I'm sorry, did I say that wrong?” He looked at the paper closely. “Rabbi . . . Icy
Antler. No, that's right.”

“I hardly think religious references are appropriate.” Miss Abernathy frowned at Laurie and Bud.

“It's not—” Bud started, but Laurie elbowed him subtly in the side.

“Let them figure it out!” she hissed. She really wished they'd hurry up, though. Waiting for them to figure out the stupid clues was agony, and it wasn't like they were even particularly involved clues. Maybe they should've gone with Misti's Pig Latin after all.

Ron Becker raised his pencil like he was in class. “I'm not familiar with any Rabbi Icy Antler. Is this an individual, do you think?”

“Or a nickname,” Olivia Hutchins piped up. She didn't want to think about which staff member might be nicknamed Rabbi Icy Antler. If she had to guess, she'd put her money on Betty Abernathy, though.

“Word jumble,” Skip Burkiss said, putting his toothpick back in his mouth.

“That's it! It's a word jumble!” Olivia Hutchins said, clapping her hands together. She was so relieved the kids didn't call her Rabbi Icy Antler.

The adults all crowded around the piece of paper. “So we've got two Bs, an I . . . no, two Is, and . . .” Principal
Winkle sighed. “Or you could just tell us what it spells?” Principal Winkle looked at Laurie and Bud desperately.

Laurie and Bud looked at each other, and Bud nodded slightly.

“Library cabinet,” Laurie said finally.

“Cheater,” Betty Abernathy muttered under her breath, turning and hurrying off down the hallway toward the library.

Bud grabbed Laurie's arm as the others followed her. “You think Misti's ready?”

Laurie nodded. “She has to be.”

List of Things That Could Go Wrong
by Laurie Madison, rising seventh grader

       
1. Everything.

       
2. See number one.

Miss Lucille was arranging tiny pieces of vegetables on two little dollhouse plates when they arrived. She looked up in surprise. “Can I help you?”

Laurie eyed the plates doubtfully. She had to hand it to Miss Lucille—she was one good actor. She sure seemed surprised to see them, even though she knew they were coming. But that vegetable thing just seemed
weird. That was one hundred percent Miss Lucille. It hadn't been in the plan.

Principal Winkle was also eyeing the plates, but he didn't say anything. “May we please see your cabinet?”

Miss Lucille wiped her hands on a cloth and stood up. “Of course! Ponch and Jon can wait a few minutes more for their lunch.”

Ponch and Jon clenched their fists and gnawed angrily on the water-bottle holder in their cage. Laurie could tell what they were really hoping to get for lunch. Flesh dripping with blood, and lots of it.

She shuddered and turned away.

Miss Lucille led the group through the library toward her office. It was a small room tucked away in the corner of the library. Laurie tried to breathe normally. On the other side of that wall was the secret passageway, and with the exception of Bud and Miss Lucille, no one had the slightest idea.

Miss Lucille stood next to a large, black wooden cabinet pushed against the back wall of the office. “Not much to see, I'm afraid.”

Principal Winkle nodded. “We'll just take a look inside.” He opened the cabinet door.

The cabinet was completely empty. The only thing
inside was a small Post-it note stuck to the back wall.

Principal Winkle pulled it out and raised it above his head so everyone could see it, and smiling, he shut the cabinet door. “The next clue!” He walked back out of the room and into the main part of the library.

“Shall we?” He peered down at the clue. “
I am not what I appear to be. But what I reveal will lead you to . . .
” Principal Winkle tapered off and cocked his head to the side. He could almost catch a faint sound coming from nearby.

“Do you . . . hear that?” he said softly, looking up.

“Hear what?” Betty Abernathy snapped.

“Shh,” Principal Winkle said, not moving.

“Oh.” Mrs. Hutchins sighed, her head up as she caught the faint strains of sound too.

As they stood there, the whole room slowly filled with the song of the Marchetti Bird. No one moved until the last traces of the music had tapered off and disappeared completely.

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