by Stuart Gibbs
Everyone eagerly agreed with this, not necessarily saying it was vandalism, but that it was possible. They all seemed a bit relieved to have found a solution that didn’t involve a rogue rhino hunter, and I couldn’t blame them. I felt a bit of relief too, hoping that what Violet had proposed was the truth.
Only Summer seemed unconvinced. Plus, she appeared to have lost her appetite for her steak during our conversation.
“If it was vandalism, I’ll bet there’s a good chance TimJim was behind it,” Xavier said. “Remember last year, when the cops busted them for throwing rocks at the windows of the old gas station?”
“And they tagged the school gym with graffiti,” Violet added.
The others at the table chimed in, recalling more incidents of TimJim’s misbehavior or suggesting other possible vandals. They quickly compiled quite a list; a surprising number of kids had done things like shoot holes in road signs, drape trees in toilet paper, or leave flaming bags of dog poo on people’s front porches.
Meanwhile, Summer shoved her unfinished steak away, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and checked her messages. You weren’t supposed to have phones at school, but Summer often acted as though rules were for other people. Then she tucked her phone away, grabbed her lunch bag, and carried it toward the garbage, pausing for a second to give me a glance that said I ought to join her.
Even though I wasn’t quite done with my lunch, I got up and followed her.
“They’re fooling themselves,” Summer said, tossing her uneaten food into the trash. “This wasn’t vandalism. Someone wants Rhonda dead.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Summer said, “Hondo’s taking me to FunJungle today after school. I’ll give you a ride so you don’t have to take the bus.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got soccer practice after school today.”
“Not anymore,” Summer told me. “Daddy wants to see you.”
ACCUSED
J.J. McCracken wasn’t the kind of person you could say no to. He was rich and powerful, and half the town worked for him. All I had to do to get out of soccer practice was tell Coach Redmond that J.J. had asked to see me. Coach released me immediately, then told me to ask J.J. if he’d buy the school a new soccer field.
Even though Summer was rich, she didn’t use a limo. J.J. McCracken didn’t like limos; he considered them snooty and impractical. There was a lot of stuff that J.J. dismissed as too fancy for his tastes. The McCrackens could have had a mansion in Beverly Hills or a penthouse in Manhattan, but they had a ranch in the Texas Hill Country instead. The road to their front door was dirt; a limo never would have made it. Instead, Summer’s chauffeur drove her around in a rover SUV. It was just like any other rover on the inside—except it was a bit longer and there was a glass partition between the front and back seats that could be closed to give the people in the back privacy.
The chauffeur didn’t dress very fancy, either. He was a recent college grad named Tran, and instead of a suit, he usually wore jeans, a button-down shirt, and cowboy boots. Which was basically how J.J. dressed too.
The one thing that J.J. didn’t skimp on was security. He was terrified that Summer might be a kidnapping target. The rover’s windows were tinted and bulletproof. The doors looked normal, but they were armored. And as we rode back to FunJungle, Hondo was stationed in the front seat, right next to Tran.
Summer chafed at having a bodyguard at all times—it put a crimp in her ability to act like a normal teenager—so Hondo did his best to be unobtrusive. It wasn’t that easy, though, since he was the size of a refrigerator. Plus, he was covered with tattoos, which made him look like a walking comic book. Like many of Summer’s bodyguards, Hondo had a rough background; he’d been in a gang as a teenager and had done some jail time. But he’d straightened himself out and was surprisingly friendly. While some of Summer’s previous guards had been gruff and cold with me, as if I were a potential threat to her safety, Hondo was always kind and trusting. He even let us put up the glass between us and the front seat so we could talk in private.
“Any idea why your dad wants to see me?” I asked Summer.
“No,” she replied. “But I’m sure it has something to do with Rhonda.”
“Like what?”
Summer only shrugged in response. I got the idea she knew more than she was letting on, but I couldn’t pry anything else out of her. Instead, she spent the rest of the ride trying to come up with possible rhino killers, but since we didn’t have any more information about the case, we simply ended up with a long list of people Summer didn’t like. She even insisted we consider Mrs. Crowley, her history teacher, a suspect because Mrs. Crowley had recently sent Summer to the principal’s office and Summer figured this meant Mrs. Crowley had a grudge against the McCrackens.
“Maybe you got sent to the principal’s office because you weren’t behaving in class,” I said.
Summer rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to pay attention in class. I know twice as much history as Mrs. Crowley.”
I didn’t bother arguing that, as there was a chance it was true. Summer was one of the smartest kids in school, although a lot of people assumed she was dumb because she was beautiful. This never made sense to me; she was J.J. McCracken’s daughter, after all, and no one ever thought J.J. had gotten so successful by being stupid.
We finally arrived at FunJungle. Tran pulled up to the front employee entrance closest to the administration building, where J.J.’s office was. As we climbed out of the car, we could see the main entrance of the park. Despite the cold weather, there was a good-sized line of tourists waiting to get in.
Summer watched them, intrigued. “That’s a big crowd for a school day in February,” she said. “Is something special going on here today?”
“Not that I know of,” I replied.
“Let’s go see what’s up.” Summer started toward the front gates.
Hondo immediately stepped into her path. “Sorry, ma’am. My orders are to deliver you directly to your father’s office.” He had a voice so low and deep, I imagined it was how a hippopotamus would sound if it could talk.
“We’re only making a slight detour. It’ll take two minutes.” Summer tried to sideslip Hondo, but he caught her arm and held it tight.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” he said. “Crowds are a significant risk of danger to you.” He then steered Summer toward the guard booth at the employee entrance.
Summer tried to dig her heels in and resist, but she was like a flea fighting an elephant. “C’mon,” she pleaded. “They’re tourists, not terrorists.”
Hondo didn’t reply. He swung open the guard booth door and swept Summer and me through it.
The booth was a very small room, only ten feet square. Inside it there was an X-ray scanner for bags, like at an airport security checkpoint, a walk-through metal detector, and a small desk for a security guard to sit at. The guard on duty didn’t look a whole lot older than we did. According to his badge, his name was Kevin. When he saw Summer, he gasped, starstruck. But then he reacted with even more surprise when he saw me, which was odd. He did such a double take, he almost fell out of his chair. “Uh, hi there, Miss, uh . . . Summer,” he stammered. “I’m afraid I have to, um, ask you folks to wait here for a, er, a moment.”
“Why?” Summer asked.
“It’s a, uh, security issue.” Kevin picked up a phone and dialed a number scrawled on a Post-it note. “Hi,” he said to whoever answered. “This is Kevin at the front guard booth. The, uh, person you’re looking for is here. . . . Okay, yes. I’ll, uh, hold him.”
Hondo tensed, growing concerned. “What’s this all about?” he asked.
Kevin shrank from him fearfully. “I, um, I . . . I’m not supposed to say. But you won’t be waiting long.” His eyes flicked toward the metal detector. There was a piece of paper taped to the side of it, where Kevin could see it but we couldn’t.
Summer snatched it and immediately s
tarted laughing at what she saw. “Oh my gosh, Teddy. Check this out. You’re a fugitive!” She held it up.
It was a photo of me.
Above it was the word “Wanted.” Below, it had my name, height, date of birth, and other distinguishing characteristics, followed by the words, “If you see this boy, detain him for questioning and call Officer Marge O’Malley immediately.”
“Oh no.” I groaned.
Summer laughed even harder.
“It’s not funny,” I said.
“Yes, it is,” Summer told me. “Look at you! You’re FunJungle enemy number one!”
Outside, there was a screech of tires, followed by Large Marge’s all-too-familiar bellow. “Get out of the way, you moron! Security coming through!”
I looked through the window of the security booth. Marge was speeding toward us in a golf cart emblazoned with a FunJungle Security symbol. Instead of watching where she was going, she was shouting at a poor maintenance worker whom she’d nearly run down.
Marge had been a thorn in my side ever since the moment I’d met her. A tourist had been trying to feed a monkey a hot dog, even though there was a sign right nearby saying not to feed the animals, so I’d shot him with a squirt gun. No one got hurt, but Marge had decided I was trouble and had spent much of her time at FunJungle trying to prove that to everyone else. Admittedly, I had played practical jokes on her now and then, but those were all to get her off my back. I would never have tied tin cans to her car’s bumper or replaced her hair spray with green spray paint if she had simply left me alone.
Marge’s hatred of me had been her own undoing. She’d been so convinced that I had stolen Kazoo the Koala that she’d never bothered to look for the real thief. Which was why J.J. McCracken had demoted her from her job as chief of security. Of course, Marge didn’t see things that way. She blamed me for her demotion and was even more determined to get me now.
J.J. had given Marge the golf cart to soften the blow of demoting her. Marge loved it a little too much. She almost never got out of it, driving everywhere she could, which was a shame because if anyone could have used more exercise, it was Marge. Plus, she had turned out to be as bad a driver as she was a chief of security. She was constantly speeding around the park, nearly running people over and yelling at them for getting in her way.
Marge skidded to a stop outside the security booth and slammed into a trash can, which toppled over, spilling garbage everywhere. Ignoring this, Marge pried herself out of the golf cart, brushed some powdered sugar—most likely from the funnel cake stand—off her uniform, and marched into the booth. “Well, well, well,” she said, looking at me the way a lion looks at a baby wildebeest. “It appears the suspect has returned to the scene of the crime. Kevin, search his backpack for evidence.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Kevin saluted obediently, grabbed my pack from the X-ray scanner, and dumped everything out on the conveyor belt.
“Spread your arms and legs, Theodore,” Marge demanded.
“Why?” I asked.
“Just do it!” Marge snapped.
I did, and to my surprise, Marge began frisking me. “I didn’t have anything to do with Rhonda,” I said.
“Rhonda?” Marge asked blankly.
“The rhino,” Summer told her.
“Oh, that,” Marge said dismissively. “Please. I couldn’t care less about some wacko taking potshots at one of our buildings. I’m here about a far more serious crime: theft of FunJungle property.” She got right in my face as she said this, so close I could smell the chili she’d had for lunch on her breath.
I recoiled, wrinkling my nose. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act dumb with me,” Marge warned. “I’m not buying it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “When it comes to being dumb, you’re an expert.”
Marge’s eyes flared in anger. She lashed a hand out to grab me, but Hondo moved like a cobra, catching her arm in midstrike.
“I don’t like to see people picking on kids,” he growled. “Now, I have orders to get these two to J.J. McCracken’s office ASAP, and you’re holding us up. So either state your case or stop wasting our time.”
Marge glowered at Hondo, then wrested her arm away from his grasp. “Early this morning, there was a crime committed on these premises that I’m positive Teddy here was a part of: the burglarizing of Carly Cougar’s Candy Corner.”
“That’s what this is about?” Summer asked, incredulous. “Some stolen candy?”
“No. It’s not only some stolen candy,” Marge mimicked rudely. She fished out her phone and brought up a photo on it. “There was also felony breaking and entering and wanton destruction of FunJungle property.”
She showed us the photo. It was of the Candy Corner, which was a small store near the park entrance. To my surprise, it hadn’t merely been robbed; it had been trashed. The front window was shattered and the candy bins had been ripped open. The floor was covered with thousands of pieces of broken glass.
Summer gasped. “What happened there?”
“Your friend Teddy here threw a trash can through the window,” Marge replied, “and then made off with approximately twenty-five pounds of assorted chocolates, jawbreakers, and gummy bears.”
“Twenty-five pounds?” I repeated. “You actually think I’d steal that much candy?”
“Oh, I don’t think,” Marge sneered. “I know. The crime was perpetrated early this morning, when no one was near this park except for the people who live in employee housing. You’re the only child who lives in employee housing—and children like candy.”
I waited for more to come, then realized there wasn’t any. “That’s it? That’s your whole case?”
“What more do I need?” Marge demanded. “You have a history of troublemaking at this park.”
“I’ve only played pranks,” I replied. “This is stealing. And vandalism. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Sure you did,” Marge snarled.
“Do you have any proof?” Summer asked. “Like surveillance video showing Teddy destroying the candy store?”
“No,” Marge admitted sullenly. “There’s no footage of the crime.”
“Really?” I asked. “Because there’s, like, ten thousand security cameras in this park.”
“Those are to protect the animals,” Marge told me. “That’s why they’re around the exhibits. Unfortunately, no one installed them to watch the candy store. Rest assured, though. I’ll get my evidence one way or another. So why don’t you save both of us a lot of trouble and just own up to it?”
“Um,” Kevin said meekly. “I’ve, uh, completed my search of the backpack.”
Marge turned to him expectantly. “And?”
“There was no candy inside,” Kevin reported. “Although there was a wrapper from a granola bar, if that means anything.”
“It doesn’t,” Marge said, annoyed.
I was about to argue my innocence again when a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Did the break-in happen before someone shot at the rhino this morning?”
“You know exactly when it happened,” Marge snapped. “Because you did it.”
Summer quickly reminded her, “The last time you thought Teddy committed a crime here, you were completely wrong. In fact, you were so wrong, you didn’t bother looking for the real thief and he almost got away. Which is why Daddy demoted you.”
Marge swung toward Summer, livid, but she actually had enough sense not to lash into the boss’s daughter. “Just because I was wrong about Teddy once doesn’t mean he’s not trouble,” she argued. “In fact, this would be the perfect time for him to pull off a caper like this. Because he knows no one would believe me after what happened last time. But he’s not going to get away with it. I’m smarter than he is.”
“I highly doubt that,” Summer said.
Marge had to bite her lip to rein in her anger. Her eyes bugged, and she turned red as a hummingbird’s throat. For a moment it looked as though her head might explode,
but she somehow managed to regain control. “All right,” she said. “For your sake, let’s assume Teddy is innocent.” She turned back to me. “What’s the point of asking when the theft took place?”
“I was thinking, it’s kind of weird that two crimes happened here this morning, so maybe they’re connected somehow.”
Marge screwed up her face, trying to make sense of this. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe someone broke into the candy store to create a diversion from the fact that they were shooting at the rhino,” I said. “Or maybe they shot at the rhino to divert everyone from the candy store.”
“I don’t know when the candy store was broken into,” Marge admitted. “Only that it happened this morning sometime. I know the store was intact at closing time last night—but I didn’t discover the burglary until right before the park opened today.”
Summer asked, “Is it possible that one of the elephants smashed into the store during the stampede? One of them could easily have eaten twenty-five pounds of candy.”
Marge shook her head dismissively. “The stampede didn’t pass the candy store. And I think I can tell the difference between the work of an elephant and a twelve-year-old boy.” She narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously once again.
“I didn’t do it,” I told her. “You can search my whole house if you want. You won’t find any candy there.”
“We’ll see about that,” Marge said. “But wherever that candy is, I’ll find it. You won’t be able to hide it forever.”
She came toward me, but Hondo stepped between us. “Ma’am, I have some experience with the law myself. And right now you have no proof against Teddy—only speculation. So, if you’ll excuse us, I really need to get him to J.J. McCracken’s office.”
“I haven’t finished my interrogation,” Marge protested.
“Yes, you have,” Hondo told her. “We’ve wasted enough time here.” With that, he shepherded Summer and me through the metal detector.
Kevin handed my backpack to me. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Don’t apologize to criminals!” Marge shouted, and Kevin cowered like a scolded puppy.
