Fabulous Five 027 - The Scapegoat

by Betsy Haynes

  "I want to go to Oxford University," she said brightly. Did she see a spark of interest in Miss Finney's eyes? "I want to major in science. My mom says, if I keep my grades up, I might get a Rhodes scholarship. People from the United States can get Rhodes scholarships, if they're smart enough." Christie knew she was running on and on, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

  She said softly, "I'm trying really hard in your class, Miss Finney." She had to swallow a huge lump in her throat.

  "I know all too well that people from the United States can be awarded Rhodes scholarships, Miss Winchell," replied Miss Finney. "But I'm not sure you appreciate just what it takes to get one." She got up and called to the others, "All right, girls. Come along."

  Christie followed, feeling bewildered. Miss Finney didn't seem to care about anything she had said. Trying to find the right things to say to Miss Finney was like walking on a balance beam. If she made the slightest mistake, she would fall. But she had to keep trying.

  Next they went to the building where the crown jewels were stored.

  "There must be tons of diamonds and crowns and things in here," said Becca, ogling the glass cases where the jewelry, golden scepters, and other precious things were kept.

  "What I wouldn't give for a ring like that one," commented another girl, pointing at a diamond the size of an egg.

  "Can anyone tell me why the Tower of London was built at this location?" Miss Woodruff asked when they were back in the central courtyard.

  Christie raised her hand. "It was easy to defend, and the land is good for planting gardens. Also, the river was a good place for traders. Most big cities were built on rivers." She said a silent thank you to Mr. Dracovitch for teaching her those things.

  Miss Finney looked coldly at Christie. "Who knows the means of transportation the first people used to come to the British Isles?"

  Sarah raised her hand. "Boat!"

  "Correct," said Miss Finney, smiling at her.

  "They might have walked," said Christie.

  Several of the girls giggled.

  "Oh, really, Miss Winchell," replied Miss Finney. "You certainly must know by now that Britain is an island. People couldn't walk on water then, any more than they can now."

  "Britain wasn't always an island," offered Christie quickly. "Thousands and thousands of years ago it was part of the mainland of Europe. They could have walked here then."

  The rest of the girls were silent. Some of them were looking at Miss Finney, others were pretending they were interested in other things. Miss Finney's face had turned a deep red.

  "Miss Winchell, you shouldn't speak unless you know what you're talking about. The first settlers in England were Celts who came by sea. It's very well documented, and that's that!"

  Christie wanted to pull the collar of her St. Meg's blazer up around her face and hide. She had only been trying to offer another possibility that she had learned about at Wakeman. Mr. Dracovitch said people today didn't know everything about what had happened in prehistoric times. Even scientists didn't always agree on the way things were then. So why did Miss Finney think it so terrible when Christie suggested another possibility?

  She dropped back to the end of the line as Miss Finney marched them along to see other parts of the tower. Christie didn't want to be anywhere near the teacher.

  "Gosh, I'm sorry," said Becca, moving in beside Christie. "Miss Finney shouldn't have jumped on you the way she did. I think what you said sounds possible."

  Christie gave her a stiff smile. "I know it's possible. A very good teacher in the States showed my class how it could have happened. It's even suggested in some books."

  "Well, don't let her get you down," Becca told her. "I think you're the smartest kid in our class."

  "Thanks," muttered Christie. She stared at Miss Finney, who was explaining something to Sarah Pike and two other girls. "I don't know if I'm the smartest, but I do know that I can't be wrong every time."

  CHAPTER 11

  Christie set her backpack down on the front step and juggled the books in her arms so she could open the front door. She had taken the underground, the London subway, to the Tottenham Court station and walked to the British Library from there.

  She'd spent two hours searching for an idea for her science project, and still not finding one that seemed just right, Christie had checked out as many books as she could carry. After Miss Finney's reaction at the tower, she was more determined than ever that her project would be the best St. Meg's had ever seen. It wouldn't matter what Miss Finney thought about it or what score she gave Christie—the project was going to be excellent.

  Pushing the door open, Christie dragged her backpack into the foyer and left it with the books she had been carrying at the bottom of the stairs. She found her mother in the kitchen.

  "Hi, sweetheart," said Mrs. Winchell. "You're late. I was beginning to worry about you."

  "I went to the library." Christie climbed on a stool. "Mom, what's the greatest school science project you ever heard of?"

  "Still looking for one?" asked her mother. "Let me think. There are lots of things you could do. I remember making a model volcano when I was about your age. It had red smoke coming out the top and looked really neat. As I recall I got an A on it."

  "You probably got an A on everything you ever did in school," said Christie. "The volcano sounds like a good idea, but not supercolossal, if you know what I mean."

  "Oh," replied her mother. "It has to be that good, huh? Tell you what, I'll think about it, and we'll ask your father to help, too. If we Winchells put our minds to work, we ought to be able to come up with a supercolossal science project. Oh, as usual, there's mail for you."

  Christie hopped off the stool and sorted through the stack. She found a letter from Jana, and one from Chase.

  In her room Christie tore Chase's envelope open first and read it hurriedly. He wrote that Coach Benfield had put Chase's application in for the Junior Olympics and Chase had started to train hard. He was even swimming on Saturdays and Sundays, and lifting weights to build his strength. After that he added,

  I'm kind of glad you're not going to be around during the Olympics. I'm going to shave my head to help me swim faster. I know everyone's going to call me Telly Savalas and baldy!

  After that he talked about going to a ball game with Randy Kirwan, Shane Arrington, and Tony Calcaterra, and how his parents had increased his allowance because his grades were so good.

  He didn't say anything about Tammy, but he also didn't say he missed Christie. Wasn't he thinking about her anymore, or had he just forgotten to say it?

  Christie read the letter two more times, trying to find hidden messages about his liking her. She had to be honest. There weren't any. Finally, she put Chase's letter down and picked up Jana's.

  Dear Christie,

  Thanks for answering my letter so quickly. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your advice about Randy's and my dating other people. I talked to him, and he's definitely against our doing it, but I'm still not sure I agree. I'm afraid that our going together may just be a habit, and there's no way of knowing without testing our relationship. I know you think I should forget the idea, since Randy doesn't like it, but I'm going to think about it some more, anyway.

  Now for some bad news. I hate to tell you this, but Chase has been hanging around Tammy even more lately. He even sat with her at the movies last Friday! I don't think it was really a date, but they were sitting awfully close. Katie and I asked him about it, and he said it was no big deal. Should we kill her, him, or both of them? Just say the word, and we'll do it.

  Tears welled up in Christie's eyes. There was no doubt that Tammy was after Chase.

  "Let me be sure I've got this right," said Christie's father at the dinner table. "Your science project can be about anything. What ideas have you had so far?"

  "How to make computers and ice and rainbows, all kinds of things," Christie told him. "They're interesting, but they're . . ."

  "
Not supercolossal," Mrs. Winchell finished the sentence with a grin. "I agree. For this kind of competition, if Christie wants to win, she needs something unusual. It has to be a special idea."

  "I know," agreed Mr. Winchell with a wink. "If we could find the formula that Dr. Jekyll uses to turn himself into Mr. Hyde, we'd have a winner. Or we could use Frankenstein's blueprints for making his monster. Now that would be a supercolossal science project!"

  "Daddy, you're no help at all," complained Christie.

  "Sorry. I just had to get those ideas out of my system," he told her, smiling. "Have you thought about doing something on space? You could make a rocket, maybe a space shuttle or space lab."

  "There are going to be lots of those kinds of things." Christie sighed. "Miss Finney says it will take something distinctive to win."

  "Sometimes the most distinctive thing comes from the simplest idea," said her mother. "You enjoyed all the things Mr. Dracovitch taught you. Was there anything that might work for this?"

  Christie thought for a minute. "No."

  "Why don't we split up the books you brought home and go through them and make lists of ideas," suggested Mrs. Winchell. "We ought to be able to find that one wonderful idea."

  "As long as we find one by Monday," said Christie. "I'm dead if we don't. I won't have enough time to build it."

  After supper they each took a third of the books. Her parents went into their study to read, and Christie went to her room. She really appreciated her parents' helping her. She probably should have asked for their help sooner.

  Christie opened one of the books. Taking time off to go horseback riding with Connie tomorrow worried her, but if she didn't, he'd definitely think she didn't like him. She didn't want that to happen.

  What will Chase be doing this weekend? she wandered glumly. Going out with Tammy Lucero?

  CHAPTER 12

  "Race you to the top of that hill!" called Connie.

  "You got it!" Christie yelled back.

  She leaned over Rigel's neck and touched the riding crop lightly to his flank. The horse took off as if he had been stung by a bee, but Connie and Buttercup had gotten the jump on them. Connie's horse ran with great, ground-eating strides.

  As Christie pounded across the rolling field on Rigel, she could feel the horse's excitement. He didn't like being left behind.

  Rigel stretched his body out so far, he was running almost flat against the ground. Christie gripped the reins and clamped her knees tightly against the little horse, trying not to break his rhythm.

  As they thundered up the long slope, they closed the gap ever so slightly.

  Suddenly Connie looped to the left to avoid a weed-covered ditch. Christie intended to follow, but Rigel would have nothing to do with detours. He ran straight toward the ditch. Christie leaned in close to his neck and gasped as he jumped and hit the ground on the other side without breaking stride.

  The detour cost Connie and Buttercup the lead, and now the two horses were neck and neck. Christie glanced quickly at Connie. He flashed her a grin, as both horses dug their hooves deep into the soft ground and raced the last few yards to the top.

  "You win!" Laughing, Connie reined Buttercup in.

  Christie slowed Rigel. He danced sideways as Connie came alongside.

  "You're a good rider," remarked Connie. "I didn't know you could jump."

  "It's been awhile," said Christie, "but I did take riding lessons. Besides, Rigel is such a terrific horse. He does most of the work." Rigel tossed his head proudly and blew air from his nostrils.

  Christie and Connie trotted their horses down the hill to the stable, where a stable boy took the reins.

  "Did you have an enjoyable ride?" asked Mrs. Farrell when they entered the house.

  Christie thought Connie's mother was totally elegant. She looked every bit like a baroness. She was tall and beautifully dressed, and her hair was perfect. The most striking thing about her, though, was the way she walked and talked. She seemed so sure of herself. Christie wondered if she could ever be like that.

  "It was wonderful," answered Christie.

  Mrs. Farrell smiled. "Good. Why don't you and Conrad go out onto the veranda, and Neal will bring you refreshments."

  "That was fun, Connie," Christie said when they were seated at the wrought-iron table on the patio. "Thanks for asking me."

  "Remember, it was Rigel who asked you," Connie replied with a grin.

  She laughed.

  Neal brought them sandwiches and milk and arranged their plates and silverware neatly in front of them. "Thank you, Neal," said Connie.

  "A pleasure, sir," he replied, nodding slightly and smiling at them.

  It boggled Christie's mind. At the Farrells' house servants brought them lunch, a stable boy helped them with their horses, and through the window she could see a maid dusting a table. She wondered what it would be like to be royalty. She'd certainly like to try it. But just for one day, she told herself quickly. No matter how great all this was, she still preferred her own family. Connie smiled at her, and she smiled back.

  "Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked.

  "I'm minding Jenny."

  "Oh, well."

  Christie glanced at him.

  "Rigel was going to ask if you'd like to go to the cinema. He thought the three of us might go together."

  Christie laughed. "But they wouldn't let a horse into a movie."

  Connie shrugged, and his grin widened. "In that case, I guess just the two of us would have gone. Not on a date, mind you," he added quickly. "Just as friends."

  Christie felt her face turn red, and she looked away so Connie wouldn't notice. Even though she wasn't ready to date Connie yet, it felt good to know that such a nice guy liked her.

  "Jenny's been fed, Christie," said Mrs. Fitzhugh, "so all you have to do is defend yourself against her. I'm not sure what kind of animal she's pretending to be today."

  "We'll be fine," replied Christie.

  When the Fitzhughs had gone, Christie had Jenny pile her blocks on the floor. Then she sat cross-legged facing the little girl, with the blocks behind her.

  "Okay, Jenny. I want you to guess how many blocks I have in my hands. If you guess right, you win, and I'll give you a treat later." She brought one block from behind her back. "How many is this?"

  "Forty-two-eighty-three," said Jenny quickly, her eyes sparkling.

  "No. It's just one, silly," Christie told her.

  The corners of Jenny's mouth turned down, and she frowned.

  By the time she put Jenny to bed, Christie had had to limit Jenny's rewards to keep her from getting sick. She was counting to ten with no problem.

  Jenny fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Christie touched the corners of her smiling mouth with her finger, kissed her on the forehead, and closed the door softly behind her.

  In the living room she plopped on the couch with her school books and pulled out the list of science ideas her parents had given her when she'd gotten home from Connie's.

  Some of them seemed good, although her father had thrown in a few just to be funny. The ideas that interested her had to do with how the earth's crust was made of plates that shifted around. Scientists thought that at one time Europe and North America were part of one continent. That seemed strange, now that the two continents were thousands of miles apart. Christie was also interested in ideas about how people would someday live in biospheres. Cities would be covered with domes, and everything would be recycled. And people would have flying machines in their garages instead of cars.

  Christie tapped her pencil on her knee. These were good ideas but not original enough. Miss Finney had said you had to be ingenious. Christie thought and thought, hoping a brilliant idea would come to her. None did.

  She searched through the two library books she had brought with her. Still, nothing jumped out at Christie as a supercolossal idea. Maybe she should give up trying so hard. Miss Finney would give her a low score, anyway, so what did it matter
what she chose?

  "I'm not going to give up," she said. "I know I can do this."

  Christie blew out her breath. What she needed was a break from all the ideas running around inside her head. An image of Connie riding Buttercup popped into her mind. She wondered if he was home. He wanted to go to the movies, so he had probably gone with Charlie. Christie decided to take a chance and dialed his number.

  Neal answered and went to get Connie.

  Connie's voice came on the line. "Hi!"

  She was surprised at the little flutter of excitement that went through her at the sound of Connie's voice.

  "Hi. What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Just watching the telly. Have you put the little nipper to bed?"

  Christie laughed. "Yes. I taught her to count to ten, and she went to bed saying her numbers." She took a deep breath. "Connie, I wanted to tell you I had fun today. Rigel is such a beautiful horse. Thanks for letting me ride him again."

  "He enjoyed it as much as you," responded Connie.

  "It's amazing how different Arabians are from other horses. They're so small and sweet-looking."

  "The Arabs bred them to be small so they could bring them into their tents when they needed to protect them," said Connie.

  "No kidding," responded Christie.

  "The Arabs also wanted their horses to be smart and to be able to run long distances without tiring," Connie explained, "so what they did was take small horses, and breed them with smart horses and strong horses. That's how they got Rigel and his relatives."

  "That's interesting," remarked Christie.

  "It just shows you that if you take a few good things and put them together, sometimes you can come up with something extraordinary."

  Christie was silent for a moment.

  "Are you still there?" Connie asked.

  "Yes . . . I was thinking about what you said. You've given me an idea."