Sly the Sleuth and the Sports Mysteries

by Donna Jo Napoli

“Guys can be cheerleaders,” said Kate. “I’m putting together a squad.We’re going to jump high.”

  “You better not jump higher than me,” said Jack. “I’m tired of people doing things better than me.”

  Suddenly a memory came. A while back Melody had told Jack she kicked better than him. That cinched it. “What else did you get at Goodwill yesterday, Jack?”

  “How did you know I was there?”

  “Join the cheerleading squad,” said Kate. She can be very persistent.

  “You bought these.” I put the smelly baseball cleats on the table.

  “That’s disgusting,” said Kate. She left.

  “You’re the one who took Melody’s ballet slippers.”

  “I gave them back,” said Jack.

  “And you took her swim fins.”

  “I gave them back too,” said Jack.

  “And you left these cleats in her cubby.”

  “And they smell,” said Melody.

  “There’s no rule against that,” said Jack.

  “There is a rule against stealing,” said Melody.

  “It’s not stealing if you give it back,” said Jack. “It’s a prank.”

  I pointed to the red crayon number. “You paid two dollars. And you never have extra money. Why was it so important to mess up Melody’s ballet lesson?”

  “I didn’t really mess it up. My cousin told me.”

  “What did your cousin say?” said Melody.

  “That you’re the best in the class.”

  “Really?” said Melody. She smiled shyly at Jack.

  She was supposed to be mad at him.

  “You messed up her swimming practice,” I said firmly.

  Jack looked ashamed.

  “I hate swimming anyway,” said Melody.

  Jack looked surprised.

  Melody smiled again. “Why’d you give me those shoes?”

  “Ask Sly,” said Jack. “She thinks she has it all figured out.”

  “He wanted you to go out for baseball. That way you wouldn’t go out for the spring soccer league. You can’t do two sports at once.”

  “I’m not going out for soccer,” said Melody.

  “Really?” said Jack.

  “I never even thought about it,” said Melody. “Not really.”

  They were so chummy, it made me sick.

  This time I was the one to leave them sitting in the lunchroom.

  Good Feelings

  Jack really was sorry that his pranks got out of hand. And Melody was sorry she’d hurt Jack’s feelings. She told me all about how they apologized to each other.

  Melody promised never to brag about her kicks again. But Jack decided to do extra work on his kicks anyway. He joined the swim team.

  The ballet recital was this evening. Melody was terrific. I told her that. So did Jack. He came because his cousin was in it.

  Kate complimented Melody too. She came because she was scouting for people for her cheerleading squad. She went around telling the best dancers to “join us.” When I asked her who “us” was, she admitted it was just her so far. Poor Kate. If I liked that sort of thing, I’d have joined just to keep her company. It’s okay, though, because Melody finally joined.

  The case of the Kick Craze is over. And even though Melody had already paid in advance, with those two baseball cards, she gave me a bottle of nail polish too.

  So I’m going to bed happy tonight. But first I’m going outside to say good night to Taxi. She’s in her cooler, snug and warm, with one paw hanging out the door. This afternoon I told Brian my mother was right—the cooler was a brilliant idea. He beamed. Jealousy is nasty. Good riddance.

  Yup, I sure am going to bed happy tonight.

  Case # 3:

  Sly and the Basketball Blues

  The Captain

  The cheerleading squad met after school.

  On Monday we met at Kate’s house. That’s because the whole idea of the squad was Kate’s.

  We skipped Tuesday because Melody has ballet lessons on Tuesday.

  On Wednesday we met at Melody’s house.That’s because Melody was the first person besides Kate to join the squad. Kate had promised Melody that Pong could be mascot if she joined.

  On Thursday we met at Princess’s house. That’s because Princess was the next to join Kate’s squad. She’s new in school. Anyone can push her around. Especially with a name like Princess. Her father gave her that nickname and it stuck. Poor kid. Her big sister is called Angel. It’s a good thing there aren’t any more girls in the family.

  On Friday we met at my house. I didn’t want to be on the cheerleading squad. I hated the whole idea. But Melody is my best friend. And when Kate roped Melody into it, Melody begged me to join too.

  My latest case began that first Friday, in our driveway. I didn’t know it was beginning, though. Here’s how it went.

  “Line up,” said Kate.

  Melody and Princess lined up. Brian lined up too. I didn’t line up.

  “Line up,” said Kate, looking at me.

  “It’s my house,” I said. “I’ll do what I want.”

  “I’m the captain,” said Kate. “You’ll do what I say.”

  “She’s the captain,” said Brian. “Oh, my. Hurry, Sly.”

  “She’s only the captain of the cheerleading squad,” I told Brian. “She can’t hurt us.” But I got in line anyway.

  “You,” said Kate, pointing at Brian. “Get out of line.You can’t be a cheerleader.”

  Too Little

  Brian cried.

  I put my arm around his shoulders. “Why can’t he be a cheerleader?”

  “He’s too little,” said Kate.

  “It doesn’t matter if you’re short.” I pulled Brian closer. “You said so yourself.”

  “It does if you’re that short.”

  “We could carry him,” said Melody.

  “Yeah,” said Brian.

  “How can we cheerlead if we’re carrying him?” said Kate.

  “Not in our arms,” said Melody. “On our backs. We can take turns.”

  This was a bad idea. Brian is heavy. But Melody was just trying to be nice. And it’s important to stand up to Kate. “Okay, Brian.” I got down on one knee. “Climb on my back.”

  Brian climbed on. He clamped his legs around my waist. He locked his arms around my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

  “You’re turning purple,” said Princess.

  “Let go, Brian,” said Melody. “You’re strangling Sly.”

  “Oh, no.” Brian let go. He fell off me.

  “See,” said Kate. “You can’t cheerlead.”

  Brian rubbed his elbow. He hurt it when he fell off me. He moved close to me and looked hard at Kate.

  I looked hard at Kate.

  Melody looked hard at Kate.

  Even Princess looked hard at Kate.

  “Stop it, all of you,” said Kate. “Listen, Brian, you can clap for us, okay? Cheerleaders need an audience to clap for them.”

  Cheering

  “Jump higher,” said Kate.

  “Shout louder,” said Kate.

  “Kick harder,” said Kate.

  Melody and Princess and I jumped and shouted and kicked.

  Brian clapped.

  This was no fun at all. I sat on the ground. “What are we cheering for anyway?” I asked. “Our school doesn’t have a football team.”

  “We could cheer for track,” said Princess.

  “No one cheers for track,” I said.

  “We could cheer for baseball,” said Melody. “You love baseball.”

  “No one cheers for baseball,” I said. “And when baseball season starts, I’ll be playing, not cheering. Playing is a lot more fun than cheering.”

  “It is?” asked Brian.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Basketball,” said Kate. “I already decided. Last night.”

  “Our school doesn’t play other schools in basketball,” I said.

  “But they play aga
inst themselves,” said Kate. “So we’ll cheer for both sides.”

  “That’s nice,” said Princess.

  “Have you ever played a team sport, Princess?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I knew it. “We can’t cheer for both sides at once,” I said. “It won’t work.”

  Kate put her hands on her hips and stood over me. “Don’t be so negative, Sly.”

  Just then Kate’s mother came jogging up the sidewalk. She held a giant bag in her arms.

  “Why’s your mother here?” I asked.

  “She brought us something.” Kate ran to meet her. Her mother jogged in place while Kate took the bag. Then she waved and jogged away.

  Kate’s mother was still on her health kick.

  Brian poked at the bag. “What’s in it?”

  “Props.”

  Props

  “Pom-poms!” Kate handed them out.

  “Cool,” said Melody.

  “Cool,” said Princess.

  I had to admit, those pom-poms were cool.

  “I want pom-poms,” said Brian.

  Kate reached around in the bottom of the bag. “Good. My mother remembered the measuring tape.” She handed me a coiled cloth tape. “Climb that tree, Sly.”

  “I want pom-poms,” said Brian.

  “The maple tree? Why?” I asked.

  “We have to put up a basketball hoop.”

  “I want pom-poms,” said Brian.

  “You can’t put a basketball hoop on a tree,” I said.

  “We’re not using it to really play,” said Kate. “It’s just to give us the right atmosphere. My mother bought us four kiddie hoops.” She held out a plastic hoop. “We can put one up at each of our houses. Then when we practice, we can pretend the team just made a basket.”

  “I want pom-poms,” said Brian.

  This reminded me of Melody’s method acting. “We can pretend the team just made a basket without putting up kiddie hoops,” I said.

  “The hoops will make us cheer more realistically,” said Kate.

  “What’s realistic about cheering?” I asked.

  “Are you afraid of climbing the tree?” asked Kate.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “I just don’t like climbing trees.”

  “I want pom-poms,” said Brian.

  “I climb trees,” said Princess. In a flash, she was halfway up the maple.

  Taxi came jumping out of the tree.

  Brian went over and petted her.

  “How high should I go?” Princess called down.

  “Catch,” said Kate. She threw the tape. It hit the trunk and fell in the dirt.

  “I’ll throw it,” I said. “I’m the one who plays baseball, after all.” I threw Princess the tape.

  “Now, hold on to one end and let the other fall loose,” said Kate. “The hoop has to go ten feet up.”

  Princess let one end of the tape dangle down.

  “Climb higher,” said Kate.

  Princess went higher.

  “Stop,” called Kate. “Oh, dear. You should have taken the hoop with you.”

  “I’ll hand it to her,” said Melody. She climbed the tree and handed Princess the hoop.

  “You’re not a squad of cheerleaders; you’re more like a troop of monkeys,” I said.

  “Don’t be a bad sport,” said Kate.

  “I want pom-poms,” said Brian. He petted Taxi behind the ears.

  High

  Brian and I stood under the maple looking up. The others had gone home.

  The hoop was finally in place. It stuck out at a weird angle.

  “What’s it for?” asked Brian.

  “The hoop? Haven’t you ever seen a basketball game, Brian?”

  “No. What’s it for?”

  “Players throw balls into it.”

  Brian picked up a rock. He threw it. It didn’t even hit the lowest branch.

  “You have to be tall to play basketball,” I said.

  “Can you throw a ball that high?”

  “Sometimes. We play in the gym at school. It’s hard, though.”

  “Brian,” called Brian’s mother from their kitchen door.

  Brian went home.

  I rubbed my hands in the dirt. It was cold, and the dirt was hard. But I knew dirt keeps hands from slipping. So I rubbed till I had a good layer.

  I climbed that maple tree. Not all the way to the hoop. But high enough.

  I don’t like heights.

  But I refuse to be the only chicken cheerleader.

  Prunes

  On Saturday afternoon, Melody and I made beads out of clay. A few minutes after she went home, there was a knock on the porch door.

  I hadn’t had a job sleuthing for a while, and I missed it. So I tried to guess who was at the door. Just to oil up my skills.

  It wasn’t Jack. Jack doesn’t knock. He kicks his soccer ball at the door.

  It wasn’t Kate. Kate went to visit her uncle’s farm this weekend.

  It wasn’t Brian. He comes in without knocking.

  Maybe it was Princess. She’s a little shy, though. She’d call before coming over.

  I opened the door.

  “Oh, good, Sly, you’re home.” It was Brian’s mother. She was holding a plate of cookies. They looked dreadful.

  “What’s up, Mrs. Olsen? Do you want to come in?”

  She looked back over her shoulder. Then she looked at me again. “No. Brian’s playing in the backyard alone, and he doesn’t know I’m over here. So I mustn’t stay. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

  “Sure.” I waited.

  “You haven’t spent much time with Brian lately.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Is that it?” Mrs. Olsen lowered her eyebrows a little. She looked sort of like a chimp. “Or did Brian do something to upset you?”

  “Oh, no. Brian didn’t do anything. I have cheerleading,” I said. “We practice after school at different houses. So I’m only home on Tuesday and Friday now.”

  “Ah. So Brian hasn’t done anything strange around you?”

  “Has he done something strange around you?” I asked.

  “This morning he had a friend over. Little Mitchell, from his nursery school. And Brian snuck into the kitchen and got my marble rolling pin, the one we made these cookies with—they’re for you, by the way.” She handed me the plate.

  I smiled bravely. “Thank you.”

  “They’ve got prunes in them.”

  Prunes in cookies. “Thank you.”

  “Anyway, Brian made Mitchell roll him.”

  “Roll him?”

  “Yes. As though he was dough. He made Mitchell roll his legs and arms and chest.”

  “That is a little strange,” I said.

  “And it hurt. Brian kept saying, ‘Ouch,’ and Mitchell wanted to stop, and Brian wouldn’t let him, and then Mitchell came and got me.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I guess that’s stranger than I thought.”

  “And he won’t tell me why. So I was wondering if you’d talk to him.” Mrs. Olsen smiled. “You seem to understand him better than anyone.”

  “Sure.”

  What Works

  Mrs. Olsen went into her house.

  I went into her backyard. Brian was perched in the lowest crook of their apple tree.

  He smiled at me as I came over.“Watch.” He put his hands on a branch and hung for about a tenth of a second. He dropped to the ground onto his bottom. “Ouch.”

  “Brian, what’s that you’ve got around your ankles?”

  “I hung,” said Brian.

  “I saw.” I waited for him to answer my question.

  “You climbed your tree yesterday,” said Brian.

  I didn’t know anyone had seen me. “I was just experimenting,” I said. I knelt beside him. “You’ve got a duct tape roll around your ankle.”

  “I had to push to get it on,” said Brian. “I had to squash my foot. Squish squash.”

  “Is that o
ur duct tape roll?”

  “I’m going to give it back,” said Brian. He pulled on it. “Help me.”

  I eased Brian’s foot out. The duct tape roll was pretty heavy. “This is a bad thing to do, Brian. Look, it made a red mark across the top of your foot.”

  Brian rubbed his foot.

  “That must hurt,” I said.

  Brian stopped rubbing his foot. He just looked at me.

  “And you’ve got a magnet held on with a rubber band on your other ankle.”

  Brian smiled. “Magnets work.” He reached over and picked up another magnet from the ground under the tree.

  “Work at what? What do magnets do?”

  “Don’t you know? I thought you were smart, Sly.”

  I sat on the ground beside him. “Why did you make Mitchell roll you with the rolling pin?”

  “It didn’t work,” said Brian.

  “Were you trying to make it work? Did you want to become a cookie?”

  Brian laughed. “You’re funny, Sly. Maybe you’re dumb. But I love you anyway.”

  “Listen, Brian, your mother is worried about you. So stop doing strange things.”

  “My mother is worried?” Brian looked somber. “Make me a list.”

  “What kind of a list?”

  “A list of strange things.”

  He had a point.

  Dinner

  “First, no more having people roll you with the rolling pin.”

  “It didn’t work anyway,” said Brian.

  “Second, no more wearing duct tape rolls and magnets on your ankles.”

  Brian looked away.

  At least he wasn’t a liar. He wouldn’t make a promise he had no intention of keeping.

  “Want to tell me why you’re doing these strange things?” I asked.

  “Brian,” called his mother from the kitchen door. “Do you want humus for dinner? Or tofu?”

  “Raisins,” said Brian.

  His mother shut the door.

  “What’s humus?” I asked.

  “Yellow mush.”

  “What’s tofu?”

  “White stuff. It jiggles.”

  “Raisins are a good choice,” I said.