by Betsy Haynes
"Jana, it's for you," Mom called.
I frowned. What if it was one of my friends saying she couldn't come to our meeting? Or what if it was Taffy Sinclair with new orders for me and another warning that if I didn't do what she said she would turn me in?
Mom was smiling for the first time since the letter arrived from my father when she handed me the receiver. She had her hand over the mouthpiece. "It's a boy," she whispered. "Maybe it's Randy."
My heart started pounding, and I gave her a tiny smile back. Could it really be Randy Kirwan? It had to be. Who else would call me? But was Randy calling to say he still liked me or was he going to tell me off for being two-faced?
"Hello?" I said.
"Hi, Jana. This is Curtis Trowbridge."
I couldn't believe it. Not nerd-of-the-world Curtis Trowbridge. I hadn't even thought of him. He has had a crush on me forever, and he is always following me around and making me miserable. But why was he calling me now? I had so much on my mind. I didn't want to talk to him at a time like this. I crossed my eyes and made a face to signal Mom that it wasn't Randy. She smiled sympathetically and left the room so that I could have some privacy.
"Hi, Curtis," I said. "What do you want?"
"I'm calling about Wiggins's wallet and the stolen lunch money," he said matter-of-factly.
I almost dropped the phone. "What!" I gasped. How could he know? Had he been talking to Taffy Sinclair?
"Take it easy. I don't know who the thief is. That's what I'm trying to find out. Since I'm sixth-grade editor of the Mark Twain Sentinel, I feel it's my duty to do some investigative reporting. You know, that's when a reporter investigates a crime and tries to solve it ahead of the police."
"Oh," I whispered, even though I already knew what investigative reporting was. My heart had practically exploded out of my chest when he mentioned the wallet and the lunch money, and I was still recovering.
"I'm questioning everyone in our class to see if I can get some leads."
"Do you have any?" I asked, hopeful that he did have but afraid they might point to me.
"Not yet. But I've just started asking questions. You're the first person I've talked to." His voice got an official sound to it as he went on. "According to my notes, you came in late on the morning of the first crime. Did you see anything suspicious on your way to class or notice anyone lurking in the halls?"
"No," I assured him. "Nobody was lurking when I came through."
"Nobody . . . lurking," he said slowly, and I could imagine him on the other end of the phone writing that on a notepad. "What about yesterday?" he continued. "Did you go anywhere in the school building after you left the cafeteria?"
I wanted to say no, but I had been seen by too many people to deny it. "Yes," I said softly.
"Where did you go?"
"To the girls' bathroom," I snapped.
"Oh," he said quickly, and I could imagine his face turning red. He didn't say anything for a moment, but then he added, "And you didn't see anything suspicious at the time of either crime? Think, Jana. Even the tiniest thing could be important."
I closed my eyes and thought about Monday morning and how I had stayed late in the girls' bathroom to brush my hair before Randy saw me. There was no one in there but me. Me and Wiggins's wallet. And I hadn't seen a single thing that was suspicious on the way to class. I thought really hard, wishing I could come up with a clue. Nobody wanted that thief to be caught more than I did.
"I didn't see anything either time," I said. "Sorry, Curtis. I have to go now. Bye."
As soon as I hung up, I hurried back to my room and flopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Curtis Trowbridge and his investigative reporting. It scared me to think of him poking around and asking a lot of questions when so much of the evidence pointed to me. He already knew that I was late the morning Wiggins's wallet was stolen. He might think it was because I was taking time to hide it. Now he knew that I was in the school during lunch break yesterday. That meant I didn't have an alibi for either time. Curtis was no dummy. He would figure that out in no time.
What would happen when he questioned other people? Even though she had threatened to turn me in, Taffy might not tell him anything since she couldn't blackmail me anymore if I got caught. But what about Mona Vaughn? She was already mad at me because of all the attention I was getting from Taffy. She would probably think that telling what she knew was a good way to get even.
I jumped up and ran to my dresser, staring at myself in the mirror. "I'm innocent!" I cried. But my father was coming Monday. And with Curtis asking questions, and Mr. Scott saying that they planned to call the police on Monday, I didn't have much time to prove it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
My friends were all talking about Curtis Trowbridge and his investigative reporting when they arrived for our emergency meeting at one o'clock. He had called every single one of them that morning.
"Don't worry, Jana. Taffy will never tell Curtis about seeing you with that wallet," Katie assured me as we went into my room and closed the door. "She would rather blackmail you than see you get in trouble."
"Unless she gets tired of blackmailing her," offered Melanie.
"Thanks a lot!" I shrieked. "Besides, you only know half of it." I dreaded to tell them the rest, but I had to. "I was in the hall at noon yesterday when the lunch money was stolen, and Taffy knows it."
"You're kidding, Morgan," said Beth. "What were you doing in the hall at noon?"
"Yeah," said Christie. "Did you see who stole the lunch money?"
"No," I said glumly. Then I explained about running away from Taffy and hiding in the school until she found me in the bathroom and about Mona Vaughn seeing me in the hall and telling Taffy how nervous I was.
"Morgan, you jerk," said Beth." How could you get yourself into a mess like that?"
"I didn't know that somebody was in the middle of stealing the lunch money when I ran into the school. I was mad and embarrassed about pretending to be Taffy Sinclair's friend."
Nobody said anything for a minute. Everybody was thinking about how much trouble I was in.
Finally Christie asked the question everybody was thinking. "What if Mona tells Curtis what she saw?"
"Hey, wait a minute," said Beth. "So what if Mona saw you in the hall, Jana? You saw her there, too."
"Sure, but she wasn't acting nervous. And besides, you have to go through the hall to get to the girls' bathroom. That was where she was going."
"So?" challenged Katie. "Maybe she doesn't get nervous. Who knows? Anyway, it's your word against hers. Who else did you say came in the bathroom while you were there?"
"Stephanie Holgrem," I said. "And some fourth-graders."
"Any of them could have done it, and so could anyone else. Nobody said the thief went into the girls' bathroom."
Katie was right. It could have been anyone. Even Taffy Sinclair. What a dummy I was. She had come into the school looking for me and had found me in the girls' bathroom. I thought hard for a moment. An idea was forming down in one of the wrinkles of my brain. An idea about Taffy Sinclair.
"Wait a minute," I said. "When Curtis called, he asked me to try to think of anything suspicious that I saw at the time of either crime, and that's exactly what I did. That's why I missed the most suspicious thing of all."
My friends were all staring at me.
"What are you talking about?" cried Beth. "What did you miss?"
"I was thinking about Monday morning in the bathroom," I said excitedly. "I forgot all about what happened in that same bathroom after school when I was trying to put Wiggins's wallet back. Taffy Sinclair came in! What was SHE doing in there after everyone else had gone home? I had thought at the time that she was probably hanging around to butter up the teachers, but maybe that wasn't it at all. Was she checking to see if the wallet SHE had stolen was still behind the toilet? Had SHE put it there for safekeeping until after school? Was SHE coming back to get it and take it somewhere where it could
never be found?"
Grins were slowly spreading across my friends' faces. "That has to be it!" cried Christie. "Taffy Sinclair is the real thief."
"Then she got attention away from herself by blackmailing you," said Beth.
"That's right," I said. "I was so busy worrying about what she was going to do to me next that I didn't take time to suspect her of the crime."
"What about yesterday at noon?" asked Melanie.
"That's easy," I assured her. "She must have followed me when I ran into the school and then discovered that she had the perfect opportunity to steal something else and make it look as if I did it. That's why I had to stand around in the girls' bathroom washing my hands about a million times while I waited for her to show up. She was busy taking the money and stashing it somewhere."
I jumped on my bed and started bouncing up and down. My friends all jumped on, too, and we were all bouncing and hugging each other. It was too wonderful to be true. Taffy Sinclair was the real sixth-grade thief.
Naturally, Katie Shannon had to put a damper on things. "Wait a minute," she said. Then she stopped bouncing and got off the bed, turning to face us. "What's her motive? She doesn't need money. Her parents aren't rich, but they're pretty well off. And she has the nicest clothes of any girl in school."
We all stopped bouncing.
"She wanted to blackmail me," I insisted.
"That might be true about the lunch money since she knew she could pin it on you," Katie went on. "But not about the wallet. She was just as surprised to see you in the bathroom after school as you were to see her."
I knew I was frowning, but I couldn't help it. "I don't care," I said. "Taffy Sinclair is the thief, and we all know it. The trouble is, we don't have time to prove it. Mr. Scott said they were going to call the police on Monday if nobody came forward. Now Curtis is doing his best to solve the crime ahead of the police. If he talks to Mona, and then puts that together with the fact that I was late Monday morning—I'VE HAD IT!"
There were nods and murmurs of agreement. "We've got to do something," whispered Melanie. Her eyes were open wide, and I could see that she was just as scared as I was.
"I know," shouted Beth. "We'll frame her!"
"Frame her?" we all asked in unison. I felt little tingles race up my spine. I knew it was against the law to do a thing like that, but it was obvious that Taffy Sinclair was guilty and was framing me. If we framed her, then I would be out of trouble, and she would get what she deserved.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Framing Taffy Sinclair wasn't going to be as easy as we had thought. Nobody could think up a plan that would fool anyone.
"If only I still had Wiggins's wallet," I said. "I could plant it in her desk."
"Maybe you could steal something else and plant it," offered Melanie.
"I'm not a thief!"
"I didn't mean that you were," said Melanie. "I meant borrow. If you BORROWED something from somebody else and planted it in her desk—"
"Forget it," I snapped. "I'm not going to take any chances. It would be just my luck that Curtis Trowbridge would see me. I look guilty enough as it is."
"What if I called Wiggins and disguised my voice?" said Beth. "I could say that I was a friend and that I knew that Taffy Sinclair was the thief. She would never know it was me."
"Oh, yeah?" said Christie. "Wiggins is pretty smart. She'd know your voice in a minute."
"No, she wouldn't," Beth insisted.
"Wait a minute, you guys," I said. "I think I have an idea."
Everybody got quiet. Including Beth, who hardly ever shuts up, even in an emergency.
"Remember how Taffy writes? She makes her letters with squiggly little curliques."
Everybody nodded.
"I think I can fake her handwriting. I'll bet that I could write a note, showing that Taffy was the thief, sign her name, and drop it on the floor beside Wiggins's desk. She'd be sure to find it there. Wiggins goes berserk over kids passing notes, so you know she'd pick it up to see who wrote it."
"How could you fake her handwriting?" asked Christie. "Do you really think you could fool Wiggins? Like you said, she's pretty smart."
"Ordinarily I couldn't write like Taffy, but I still have the note she wrote me the day she started blackmailing me. You know. The one telling me to meet her by the swings. I can trace her letters off that and fake the ones that aren't on it. Nobody writes like Taffy. Even if I didn't get all of her letters right, Wiggins would still think it was Taffy's handwriting."
"You're right," said Beth. "It IS a perfect plan."
"Wait," cautioned Katie. "Who would Taffy write a note like that to?"
I thought a minute. "Mona Vaughn. Who else? Mona is the only friend she has."
I took a sheet of paper out of my notebook and got some tracing paper out of my desk that was left over from a school project. Then I dug around in my jacket pocket until I found the note Taffy had written. I studied it for a few minutes, and while my friends watched, I traced her handwriting exactly and wrote a fabulous note.
Dear Mona,
I've done it again! I stole all the dollar bills out of the lunch money box. It was even easier than taking Miss Wiggins's wallet, and nobody will ever know it was me.
Love,
Taffy Sinclair
It took me quite a while to write that note, but when I finished and my friends and I looked it over, we knew it was a masterpiece.
"Can you imagine what Wiggins will do when she sees this?" asked Beth. "Taffy will really get it."
"She'll have to pay back every cent of the money," said Melanie.
"I'll bet my mother will suspend her from school for at least a week," bragged Christie.
"I can't wait!" I said. "After all the terrible things Taffy has done to me, it will be fun to see her get what she deserves."
Katie had gotten awfully quiet. She shook her head. "I still can't figure out what Taffy's motive was for taking Wiggins's wallet," she said. "Every criminal has a motive."
"Maybe she'll plead temporary insanity," Melanie said with a giggle.
"And another thing," said Katie. "Remember that Wiggins said that the thief came into the room at least ten minutes before the bell rang. You know Taffy Sinclair. She always hangs around on the school ground flirting with the boys until practically the last bell. Then she waits until everybody is in their seats to make a grand entrance."
"Who cares?" I said. "Taffy has to be the thief. Who else could it be?"
Nobody could answer that.
After my friends had all gone home and I had put the fake note from Taffy Sinclair into my knapsack to take to school on Monday morning, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Everything was going to work out okay after all. Taffy Sinclair would never be able to humiliate me and make me fake being her friend or treat me like her slave again. Best of all, I wouldn't have to go to jail. Other parts of my life were going to be better, too. I would be able to look Randy Kirwan in the eye again without worrying that he thought I was a terrible person. And then there was my father. He would be able to love me and be proud of me and not think that his daughter was a thief. Getting back at Taffy Sinclair was definitely going to be worth it.
Mom knocked on my door a few minutes later. "Jana, would you like to go out to the mall with me?" she called.
I started to say no. Ordinarily I never pass up a chance to go to the mall with Mom. We always stop at the ice cream shop that has forty-five different flavors before we come home. But this time I was still a little angry with her for saying that my father's visit was only temporary. Still, I had to admit that I didn't like it when we weren't getting along, and she was probably trying to make up by inviting me to go with her. "Sure," I said, jumping off my bed and grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair.
We didn't talk much as we got the bus to the mall and then went from store to store. Mom said she had to get new shoes for work because her old ones had a hole in them. I knew Mom couldn't afford much right now since she had s
ent most of our extra money to my father, so I tried not to look at all the super clothes displayed in the store windows. She couldn't buy me anything right now. Then I thought about Taffy Sinclair. She got everything she wanted, and she had the most gorgeous wardrobe in the entire school.
I was looking at a sweater display in a store window while Mom priced shoes in another store and thinking about Taffy Sinclair when I noticed Mona Vaughn. Mona was in the store standing beside one of the sweater counters. As usual, she looked awful. She had on baggy jeans that were about three sizes too big and a faded sweatshirt.
I was standing there thinking that Mona always wore old, faded clothes and that it was no wonder she worshipped Taffy Sinclair when I noticed what she was doing. She was buying a sweater. It had to be an expensive sweater because it was a beautiful shade of blue with tiny pearls sewn in a design on the front. I blinked a couple of times. What was Mona Vaughn doing buying a sweater like that when she never wore anything half that nice?
I blinked again and looked closer. Mona glanced around the store nervously. Then she very slowly counted out the money for the salesclerk in dollar bills!
I ducked away from the window and hurried out into the center of the mall before Mona could spot me. My pulse was hammering in my ears. The stolen lunch money was in dollar bills, and I had seen Mona in the hall around the time it had been taken!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I couldn't think about anything but Mona Vaughn for the rest of the weekend. I even turned down ice cream at the mall to get back home and try to figure out what to do.
Deep down inside I knew Mona was the thief. I had seen her give the salesclerk all those dollar bills for a sweater that was more expensive than anything she owned. On the other hand, I also knew that if I told on her, then she would be the one to get caught instead of me. Once that happened, I wouldn't have to worry about getting in trouble, and Taffy Sinclair wouldn't be able to blackmail me anymore.
Wasn't that all that mattered? I kept asking myself. Getting Taffy Sinclair off my back and staying out of jail?
