by Bruce Hale
Getting my tail in gear, I hustled over to the cafeteria. But by the time I reached it, the Munchmeister 2000 was cranking out food, and kids were lining up.
I checked out their lunches—gross and gloopy as ever. Whether it was spiked with loco juice or not, the food was seriously funky.
“Yuck,” I said. “Who would eat that stuff?”
“Plenty of people,” said a nearby kid.
I glanced at the line, but didn’t see the speaker.
“Who said that?”
Pete Moss waved his hand in front of my face. “Hello? Me again.”
“Oh, Pete, I—”
“Did not see me, I know.” He scowled. “Nobody does.”
“Sorry, Ace. No time to sit and jaw. I’m on a case.”
Mrs. Bagoong was working back in the kitchen. I buttonholed her.
“So what’s the story, Brown Eyes?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said, looking up from rinsing trays. “Hello, Chet honey.”
“Did you catch anyone messing with the machine?”
Her eyebrow ridges drew together. “Why, no. It’s been so busy . . .”
I stepped closer. “Think. Was anyone unusual hanging around right before lunch?”
The big iguana stroked her scaly chin. “Let’s see . . . Mr. Zero stopped in . . . That inventor was here, adjusting things. And some older kid came by, looking for her little brother.”
“Older kid?” I asked. “What did she look like?”
Mrs. Bagoong ruffled the spikes on her head. “Let’s see . . . a tall, skinny alligator lizard. Wearing a purple, flowered T-shirt.”
Could it be the bad-tempered Miss Purple Tee?
“Hmm,” I said.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means . . . hmm. Unless I miss my guess, that lizard is one of the witches.”
The lunch lady frowned. “Which witches?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Witch witches.”
Mrs. Bagoong gave me an odd look. “I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu.”
“Me, too, sister. All over again.” I turned and hustled out of the lunchroom.
Curses or no curses, it was time to take another look at those witches. I could sure use Natalie’s help. Where was that mockingbird?
“Natalie!” I spotted her down the hall.
My partner narrowed her eyes and turned away.
I hurried after her. “Hey, didn’t you hear me?”
Over her shoulder, Natalie shot me a look that was colder than a polar bear’s pizza.
“Partner, what’s wrong?” I asked, catching up.
Natalie spun. “Like you don’t know,” she snapped.
“But I don’t.”
She bristled and addressed two passing girls. “Oh, right. The great detective has no idea why his partner might be mad at him.”
They gave her a sympathetic look and moved along.
“I’ve got no clue,” I said. “Snap out of this—we’ve got work to do.”
“We’ve got work? We’ve?” The fire in Natalie’s eyes nearly set my hat aflame. “After what you said, you expect me to help solve your dumb case?”
My face flushed. “What in the world has gotten into you?”
Natalie thrust her beak close. “Into me?” she said. “You’ve been shooting down my ideas for days. Then, just five minutes ago, you said I was deadweight and a lousy detective and you’d be better off without me.”
“What?” I felt like I’d been smacked in the face with a wet slug. “You’re loco!”
Natalie stabbed a forefeather in my face. “Darn right, I’m crazy. Crazy to think you were my friend!”
Her brown eyes welled up.
“Natalie, I—”
“No more!” she said. “I’m outta here!” And she flapped her wings and took off.
“Wait, I was in the lunchroom five minutes ago!” I called after her. “Natalie!”
But she was gone, long gone, like last summer’s melted Popsicles.
12
Par for the Curse
I paced. This was goofier than a carload of circus chimps on a banana binge. Was Natalie going cuckoo, or was I?
What could make a person act so strangely?
Then it hit me: a spell. Natalie was under a spell!
Geckos may be cold-blooded, but I swear mine ran hot right then. I clenched my fists. If those witches thought they could mess with my partner, they had another think coming.
Their bums were gum, and I was the chewer.
I hightailed it across the playground, making for the yew tree. This gecko was going to get some answers.
But when I reached the shade of the evergreen, there wasn’t a witch in sight.
“Gnarrgh!” I snarled. I kicked the white stones from their witchy circle, sending them into the bushes.
“Hey!” cried a voice.
The alligator lizard in the purple T-shirt, the green-spotted toad, and the tabby kitten stood at the edge of the grass.
“What are you doing?” said the cat.
I stomped toward them. “Breaking up your little crime ring, that’s what.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, buster,” said Purple Tee.
“You’d like me to think so, wouldn’t you?” I said, shaking a finger in her face. “You hexed my partner, and you’re dropping wacky dust in the food to make kids nuts. Well, it’s not gonna work.”
“What’s not?” said the toad. “The nuts?”
“Your evil plan, Spotty. You witches have cast your last curse.”
Purple Tee glowered down at me. “Watch your step, Gecko.”
I gave her glare for glare. “Funny, bad guys have been telling me that for years. But I just keep on stepping.”
Spotty pulled on the lizard’s arm. “Becca,” she said warningly.
“No,” said Becca. “I’ve had enough of these dummies giving Wicca a bad name, calling us witches.”
“You’re worried about your good name?” I said. “Should’ve thought of that before you started doing your evil hoodoo.”
“Hoodoo?” sputtered the lizard. “Hoodoo?”
“You do,” I said. “That’s who.”
“Enough!” Becca cried. “We’re hexing this gecko.”
I drew myself up. “Just try it, Becky-Baby. I’m gonna get the evidence to send you witches straight down the drain.”
Becca turned away to rebuild the circle of stones. The kitten hissed.
Spotty shrugged. “Sorry. She did warn you.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said.
The lizard looked up. “You should be, PI.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“If you don’t catch the real culprit by noon tomorrow, you’ll be seeing the world from a very different point of view—a worm’s-eye view.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “No worries, witchie-poo. I’ll catch you red-handed by then.”
But Becca just started humming a curious tune. She sat inside her circle and reached out for the cat and toad, who joined her.
Together they held hands and sang:
“Spin the circle round and round
Call the freaky powers down
Strike the gecko, though he squirm
Turn him into crawly worm—”
I backed away. “This isn’t over. Principal Zero is gonna shut you nutjobs down.” When I reached the grass, I turned and stalked off, shoulders squared.
But inside me, a larva of doubt wriggled.
They were nutjobs, no question. But did these nutjobs have the power to turn a PI into a pink night crawler?
Though I searched the school, I couldn’t find Natalie anywhere. So when the bell rang, I shuffled back to class. Just down the hall from my room, a long, curly tail shot out from behind a corner, blocking my path.
“Not so fast, Romeo,” said a breathy voice.
It was Shirley Chameleon. She batted her bulging eyes.
“The name’s Ge
cko,” I said. “You must have me confused with someone.”
She giggled. “Where did you run off to, Chet?”
I tugged on my hat. “Run off? I’ve been working a case.”
Shirley’s tail curled around my legs and tugged. I stumbled toward her.
She put a hand on my chest. “You think you can just kiss a girl like that and walk away?”
“What are you babbling about?” I said. “I only kiss relatives—and then, only at gunpoint.”
Shirley’s tail tugged again. We were nose to nose. “That’s not the song you were singing a little while ago,” she crooned. “Now, give me some more of that sugar, sugar.”
Her eyes half closed, Shirley pooched up her lips and leaned forward.
Alarms clanged in my brain: Danger! Danger!
I broke free and shoved her away. “Back off, you dizzy dame!”
Hurt filled her eyes like the gooey center of chocolate-covered chigger mites. “But Chet, you promised me another kiss.”
“Not on a million-dollar bet, sister,” I said, and scooted down the hall. Sprinting through the classroom door, I slipped into my seat. Had the whole school gone bonkers?
I didn’t know for sure. But I did know that when I caught those witches in the act, they would pay for what they’d done.
Bad enough that they’d bewitched the school and hexed my partner.
But turning me into a cootie magnet?
That’s something that this gecko will never put up with.
13
The Surreal Deal
All through lessons, Shirley kept making goo-goo eyes. I ignored her.
Fortunately, the class was acting crankier than a cave full of grizzlies startled out of hibernation. With this as a cover, I ate my sack lunch in peace.
Before the first hour was over, Mr. Ratnose had sent seven more kids to the principal’s office. Add this to the seven kids who’d been suspended yesterday, and that put our class at half strength. (Even I could do this kind of math.)
A few more days, and I’d be the last one standing, with Mr. Ratnose as my private tutor. A scary thought.
I made a vow to never let it get that far.
When the bell announced late recess, I shot from my seat like snow peas flung from a spoon. My first priority: patching things up with Natalie. No matter what spell she was under, my partner would eventually listen to reason.
I hoped.
Frantically, I checked the usual spots—scrofulous tree, library, and swings.
No Natalie. Man, she must really be sore.
Since my partner was in hiding, I switched to my second priority: proving to Mr. Zero that the witches were behind all the trouble at school. I needed evidence. Maybe if I shadowed them and caught them with their hands in the cookie jar?
Acting casual, I ambled over to the portable buildings—the perfect place to eyeball the yew tree and pick up their trail. Or so I thought.
I should have known. Nothing is ever perfect for this gecko.
Just past the last portable, something big blocked the sun. A solar eclipse? I wish. It was my old friend Goldie Locket, the badger.
A paw big enough to seat three kindergartners swept down from the sky and grabbed my shirtfront.
“What did I tell you?” said the badger.
“Look both ways when crossing the street, and brush after every meal?”
She growled. “How can one little gecko cause so much trouble?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
Goldie Locket lifted me off my feet. “I try to warn him,” she said. “I try to be Ms. Nice Guy, and this is the thanks I get?”
“Uh, who are you talking to?” I asked.
“You, shamus,” she snarled. “I want you should stop sticking your nose into things.”
I tried to pry her paw from my shirt. It was like trying to crack a safe with a bendy straw.
“But since I’m not getting through,” said the badger, “maybe I should do something to really get your attention, yes?”
“That’s not necessary,” I said.
Goldie’s other fist drew back, as big and gray as a rogue asteroid. I could tell it was about to crash into the moon of my face.
Unless help came quickly, my handsome mug would be ruined. I did the first thing I could think of. I bit her paw.
“Ow!” Goldie Locket dropped me like a bad habit.
And speaking of bad, who should show up at that moment but the biggest, baddest cat at school?
“Mr. Zero!” I cried. “Man, am I happy to see you.”
“Not half as happy as I am,” the principal purred.
I pointed at Goldie Locket. “This goon was about to make mincemeat out of my face.”
She froze.
“Really?” said Mr. Zero.
“Yup.” I glared at the badger. She was in for it now.
The big cat chuckled. “Seems only fair.”
“Huh?” I said.
“After the way you beat up three kids and sent them to the nurse’s office, that seems like a fair punishment,” said Principal Zero.
I spluttered. “B-but I never—”
Goldie Locket smiled. Her white fangs sparkled.
Mr. Zero held up a paw. “Save it,” he said. “A playground full of witnesses saw you. You’re a first-class troublemaker.”
The badger held up her paw. “He bit me,” she said.
“I’m not surprised,” said Mr. Zero. “But don’t worry. He’ll pay.”
The principal’s huge paw clamped around my upper arm. “Come along, Gecko. I’ve been too easy on you for too long. But not anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Mr. Zero led me away. “This time, I’m throwing the book at you.”
“If you like, I should be glad to testify,” the badger called after us.
The big cat hustled me across the grass. Kids stopped playing and stared.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“This school, as you know very well, has a zero-tolerance rule on fighting,” he rumbled. “One strike and you’re out.”
My eyes went wide. “But you can’t . . .”
“I’ve already called your mother. You, Gecko, are suspended from school.”
Ice water filled my veins. “Suspended?” I croaked.
“For the rest of the week,” said the principal.
I was flabbergasted, bug-eyed, and boggled. My tongue was soggy newspaper, and my legs were linguini. As Mr. Zero dragged me off, one thought kept running through my mind like Chicken Little at a meteor shower.
I was suspended.
And then a second thought followed: If I was suspended, how the heck was I supposed to patch things up with Natalie and solve the case?
The third, cruelest thought told me: If I didn’t solve the case, the witches’ curse would come true.
And I knew what that meant.
Good-bye, Gecko. Hello, Worm Boy.
14
Undivided Suspension
Blue doesn’t even come close to describing my mood that afternoon. Kids sent to bed without supper are blue. I was gloom-founded, hurtin’ for certain, down in the Dumpster, majorly mope-ified.
I was the poster boy of bummers.
For an hour at home I grumped and whined. For another hour I moaned and drooped. I eyed the dirt outside the window. I thought about eating it, to get a head start on my wormhood.
Nothing could penetrate my funk.
Finally, I lay on the sofa, staring into space. There was no way around it. This time Chet Gecko was going down for good.
A face appeared above me. An upside-down gecko, my little sister, Pinky.
“Wass wrong, big brother?” she said.
“You wouldn’t understand.” I heaved a sigh and rolled onto my side. “Only Natalie could help me puzzle through this, and she’s not talking to me.”
“Okay,” said Pinky.
Plucking at a loose thread on the cushion, I said, “I was kicked out
of school for doing something I didn’t do. And now my life is over.”
“But you didn’ do it?” she said, coming around to the front of the couch.
“No.”
Pinky frowned. “Huh. Sounds like a mystery.”
She wandered off to the kitchen. I stared at the spot where she’d been standing.
A mystery? It sure as heck was a mystery. And what did Chet Gecko do with mysteries? I asked myself.
“Solve them,” I said out loud.
Sure, I’d been kicked out of school. And sure, I’d be turning into a worm at noon tomorrow.
But this gecko had never turned his back on a mystery.
I sat up. If you’re going to go down, might as well go down swinging.
Somehow the witches had tricked my partner into believing I hated her, made Shirley Chameleon think that I liked her, and convinced a bunch of kids that I was a slug-happy bully. But how?
Hopping to my feet, I began to pace.
First things first. I couldn’t solve this without my partner. So somehow I’d have to talk Natalie into—if not being my friend—at least helping me out.
I reached for the phone.
“Hello? Attired residence,” came her familiar voice.
“Natalie, please don’t hang up,” I said.
She hung up.
I called back. “I asked you not to hang up.”
“Like I’d do anything you asked me to,” she said.
“Please, partner. I need you.” I twisted the phone cord in my fingers.
She squawked. “Oh, now he needs me.”
Pacing again, I continued. “I do. Remember when I was framed for stealing food? And when I was framed for kidnapping that penguin?”
“Good times,” said Natalie.
“Well, I’m being framed again. Whatever you think I said to you, I didn’t say it.”
“Sure.”
“Natalie, I can’t crack this case without your help. Please?”
The silence stretched like a giraffe doing yoga. I heard her breath. I held my own.
“If I get even the slightest hint that you aren’t being framed . . .,” she said.
