Poisoned

by Kristi Holl

  “Interview me?” He grinned. “What for?”

  “About the food you grow here, mostly, and also about, well, food poisoning.”

  He frowned. “Why that?”

  Jeri explained about her friends being sick from something they ate, and she was writing an article on food poisoning. “I heard you grew the school’s vegetables.”

  “You think my vegetables poisoned someone?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that.” An idea occurred to her though. “Are weed killers ever missing?”

  “You mean stolen? Naw. Kids don’t steal from me. Usually it’s only careless pranks that cause me trouble.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing big—just irritating things. Science classes come through on field trips and knock over plants. Softballs break windows. Occasionally horses from the barn get loose and run through the garden. Makes my job harder than it needs to be.”

  Jeri dug into her backpack for a small notebook and pen. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

  “Thought you just did.” He grinned and moved away. “Talk to me while I water.”

  Jeri trotted behind him while he grabbed a rubber hose, turned a spigot, and began to water the first aisle of plants. He talked about how he started vegetables growing indoors during the cold Virginia winters and then

  transplanted them outside in the spring, plus how he used bumblebees inside the greenhouse for pollination.

  Choosing her words carefully, Jeri steered him to the topic she was most interested in. “Do you grow mushrooms here?”

  “Naw.”

  “I heard that people go mushroom hunting at this time of year and accidentally eat poisonous mushrooms.”

  “True. They can be hard to tell apart,” he said. “Mushrooms aren’t the only problem. Quite a few common plants are poisonous.” He motioned her to follow him. Back inside the main building, Mr. Petrie led the way to a small room that turned out to be his office. A bookshelf filled one wall, and he handed her a book with a tattered cover.

  “Wild Plants of Virginia,” she read aloud. It was filled with colorful photos.

  “You’ll find a good bit in there about poisonous plants,” he said.

  “Can I borrow this?” Jeri asked. “I could bring it back in a couple days.”

  “Sure.” He rummaged on his messy desk for a pen and paper. “Just write your name down here … and your dorm. If you don’t return it by Friday, I’ll come lookin’ for you.” He winked.

  “I’ll bring it back. Thanks!” She wedged it into her backpack and zipped it shut. “Thanks, Mr. Petrie. I’d better go.”

  “Not till you scrub,” he said, motioning to a sink in the corner of his office. “You touched that weed killer. You might put your hands in your mouth.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Do it anyway. Lather up real good there,” he said. “Lots of suds.”

  Jeri sighed. He made her sound like a baby, but she didn’t have time to argue. She washed and rinsed and then wiped her dripping hands on her blue uniform jumper. “Thanks again!” She hurried out of the nursery and raced up the hill.

  In library first hour, Jeri leafed through the plant book and found one alarming thing. She saw that the medicine her mom kept in their cupboard at home— ipecac syrup — was actually made from a poisonous plant! The berries and juice from that plant caused nausea and vomiting. Ipecac syrup was used to make poison victims throw up and get rid of poison quickly.

  Jeri stared at the bell tower outside her window. The ipecac plant was found in all parts of the country, according to the book. Could it have somehow found its way into their food at Hampton House?

  She read on about many common plants that were poisonous and easy to find. They were often accidentally used in salads and casseroles—to a deadly end. Jeri leaned back and gazed unseeingly at white clouds floating behind the bell tower.

  Yes, deadly plants could be ingested accidentally. But just as easily, someone in Hampton House could be using them on purpose.

  5

  poison potatoes

  When the bell rang, Jeri raced across campus to Herald Hall for literature class. She caught up with Rosa at the classroom door. “Where’s Abby?” Jeri asked.

  Rosa whipped around. “She’s sick now! So are Emily and Miss Barbara! It happened after breakfast.”

  “See?” Jeri cried. “I told you not to eat the food in the kitchen. Is Nikki sick again too?”

  “No, but she didn’t eat. She was at the horse barn since before breakfast doing some jumping.”

  “How’s your stomach?” Jeri asked, following her into class.

  “Fine, and I ate what everyone else ate.” Rosa shrugged. “It’s a virus. It has to be.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m even more convinced that it’s poison.”

  “Oh come on. You’re just inventing a poison plot so you can write about something exciting and win the media award.”

  “That’s not true—or fair!” Jeri sputtered. “In a book of Mr. Petrie’s I read about a bunch of common plants that can be poisonous. This is no virus. I just know it.”

  Jeri could tell Rosa was still skeptical, but she’d talk to Ms. Carter right after class today. She’d show her Mr. Petrie’s book, and then the house mother would see that they must be using contaminated food from somewhere. They were being poisoned—either by accident or on purpose. Jeri was sure of it.

  The afternoon turned hot—mid-eighties—and at 3:30 Jeri gladly changed out of her school uniform. Cut-offs and a baggy T-shirt felt perfect.

  She knocked on Abby’s door, but no one answered. Jeri trotted down the hall to the restroom and called Abby’s name, but she wasn’t there. At least she’s not sick again, Jeri thought. That’s good. She was probably watching TV. Carrying Mr. Petrie’s book, she headed for Ms. Carter’s tiny office behind the kitchen. She had to tell the house mother what she suspected.

  Ms. Carter sat at her desk and listened carefully as Jeri listed reasons she believed their dorm food was being poisoned.

  “But I’m the one who cooked breakfast today,” Ms. Carter said. “The food was fine.”

  “But what if you couldn’t tell? What if someone dies next time?”

  Ms. Carter came around to the front of the desk and put her arms around Jeri. “I understand your fear. First Nikki goes to the infirmary and now Abby. Of course you’re — ”

  “Abby?” Jeri pulled back. “She’s in the infirmary?”

  “I thought you knew.” Ms. Carter leaned against the edge of her desk. “She was sick several times this morning, and I put her in the infirmary to be watched. She’s so tiny and frail. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “Can I go see her?” Jeri said, already heading to the door.

  “I’m afraid not. The doctor disagreed with the nurse and suspects a virus. He wants to isolate any sick girls so no one else picks it up.”

  Jeri was unconvinced, but she could tell Ms. Carter didn’t believe her poisoning theory. She trudged back upstairs, more worried about Abby than Ms. Carter knew.

  She was studying the plant book when Rosa walked in. “Did you hear about Abby?” Rosa asked, tossing her books and purse on the bed.

  “Yes, and we can’t see her either.”

  “I know.”

  Jeri stretched. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Brooke and I are taking homework outside. It’s an excuse to get some sun.”

  Jeri raised one eyebrow. “You don’t need to tan. You were born with one.”

  “I know.” Rosa giggled and pulled on a pink tank top and gray short shorts.

  “Where’d you get those?”

  “Online.” She turned back and forth before the mirror. “I love having clothes delivered to my door.”

  “Those shorts barely cover your bum. Don’t bend over.”

  “Oh, stop being a grandma.”

  “I’m not!”

  “If you didn’t have white stick legs, you’d wear short short
s too.”

  That stung. “No. I wouldn’t.” Jeri turned back to her book, tears threatening to spill over. Even if she had a terrific tan, she wouldn’t walk around half naked. She didn’t see how Rosa could either.

  Rosa left in silence, and Jeri buckled down to work on her entry for the media fair. She learned from Mr. Petrie’s book that poisonous and safe mushrooms often grew side by side. One particular small brown poisonous mushroom often grew under white pine trees—and they had white pines all over campus! If you ate one of those mushrooms, she read, the reaction time was within an hour. It required stomach pumping and throwing up to get rid of it.

  Had someone—somehow—added poisonous mushrooms to Abby’s salad last Saturday night?

  On the way to the greenhouse to return Mr. Petrie’s book, Jeri didn’t spot Rosa and Brooke, but there were

  about a hundred blankets spread out on the grass. School books lay on most of them, but few girls were studying. Instead they were laughing, napping, reading magazines, chatting on cell phones, and catching some rays.

  Out behind the greenhouse, Mr. Petrie was dragging a hose down a row of flowers, soaking each plant for several seconds before moving on.

  “Hey, Mr. Petrie!” Jeri called, waving the book. “Thanks for letting me use this. Want me to put it in your office?”

  “No, just park it there.” He pointed to a picnic table. “Find what ya needed?”

  “I think so.” She turned slowly in a circle. There was an acre or more of garden plots back here, some big and some tiny, all staked off. “Who do all these gardens belong to?”

  “I grow food in the big ones for the school.” He finished watering to the end of the row, pulled off a few yellowed leaves, and then turned off the water. “My stuff’s bigger and fresher than Howard’s produce. I dunno why the headmistress buys so much in town. I also grow flowers for the flower beds and for bouquets for dinners and banquets.”

  “What about those little gardens?”

  “The smaller plots belong to students—mostly biology or horticultural. They planted seeds in the greenhouse in February and transplanted seedlings outdoors last month. Each plot’s got a stake with a name on it.”

  “Mom and I grew a garden back in Iowa too. I ate a lot of sugar peas when I was supposed to be weeding.” Jeri shaded her eyes. “That’s rhubarb over there, isn’t it? That’s my mom’s favorite thing to eat raw. Talk about sour!” Her lip curled.

  “Did you know its dark green leaves are poisonous? Use that for your article.”

  “Really? What happens if you eat them?”

  “Nasty stuff. Trouble breathing, burning in the mouth, vomiting.” Mr. Petrie pulled weeds from a row of bushy plants behind them. “Lots of ordinary plants are poisonous, like rhubarb and mushrooms and narcissus and daffodil bulbs. And here you have potatoes. It surprises people to know that the ordinary potato can poison them.”

  “You’re kidding! How?” Jeri asked, grabbing her notebook and writing fast.

  “The poison’s in the green parts of a potato that aren’t ripe and the sprouts—those little ‘eyes'.” He knelt and pulled up an unripe potato plant, then pointed to the green parts that were poisonous. Jeri grabbed her camera from her backpack. “The poison in potatoes is called solanine,” he added.

  While Mr. Petrie talked, Jeri got half a dozen photos. This was just what she needed for her article. “Do you throw up if you eat the green parts?”

  “Yup.” He replanted the potato and stood. “You also might have a burning sensation in your throat, headaches, pain in your stomach … maybe even death.”

  “Death?”

  “Yes, if you ate a whole lot of green parts. It happens quick—fifteen to thirty minutes—before anyone figures out it was a potato causing the problem. You studyin’ to be a doctor or something?”

  “Last weekend some girls in my dorm got sick. I think it was food poisoning. My friend Nikki ended up in the infirmary.”

  “Nikki Brown?” Mr. Petrie asked.

  Jeri blinked in surprise. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

  “When you checked out that book, you wrote Hampton House on the paper. Last month a girl named Nikki from that dorm let her horse get loose and trample some of the gardens. She got mad when her show horse ate some bad weeds and got sick.”

  “Bad weeds? Like what?”

  “Dunno. He could have eaten milkweed pods or foxglove. Even Jimsonweed. Hard to say. Somehow she figured her horse eating weeds was my fault. She got real mad.”

  “Sounds like Nikki. She’s horse crazy.”

  “Like half the girls here,” he said, chuckling then. “Keeping her horse under control would do more good than bellyaching to the headmistress.”

  Jeri bit her lower lip. Had Nikki complained to the Head and gotten him in trouble? Was that what he meant? A disquieting thought occurred to her. Under his easygoing attitude, was Mr. Petrie angry at Nikki? Angry enough to want to pay her back? Surely not.

  Hmmm … Had Show Stopper just eaten some bad weeds? Jeri remembered the stable hand saying Mr. Petrie supplied hay and apples for the horses. Her heart beat faster, and the pulse in her neck jumped. It would be simple to put apples dusted with weed poison into Show Stopper’s stall or to add things like green potatoes or rhubarb leaves to the horse’s mesh hay bag. Of course, she was assuming it was poisonous to animals too. Maybe not.

  She tapped her notebook with her pencil. “Um, does the food that poisons people also hurt animals—small pets or even horses?”

  “In big enough doses, yes. Rhubarb, green potatoes, avocadoes …” He paused in concentration. “Plus mushrooms, onions, and tomato leaves and stems bother horses.”

  “What usually happens? Do they throw up too?”

  “No, it gives them colic—stomach cramps. Or muscle spasms and trouble swallowing. If a horse eats enough, he’ll collapse.”

  Jeri kept her eyes on her paper. He sure knew a lot about horses for a gardener. Why? After thanking him for his help, she glanced at her watch and headed straight to the dining hall. Clouds were gathering in the west, and the breeze was cooler. Her stomach growled like an irritated bear.

  But supper went right out of her mind the minute she stepped inside the dining hall. Claire James, the junior editor of the school paper the Lightning Bolt, slammed into

  her. Jeri staggered back, waiting for an apology. It didn’t come.

  “Watch where you’re going, kid!” Claire snapped, adjusting her tiny eyeglasses.

  “Sorry,” Jeri muttered.

  “Well, if it isn’t Landmark School’s hotshot reporter!” Claire laughed harshly and flung her long red hair back over her shoulder. “Did you finally get smart and give up writing?”

  “No.” Jeri took a deep breath. “I’ve been busy writing. I’m entering my sixth-grade newspaper in the media fair.”

  “You’re joking! Like you could win.” Her mocking tone sent a chill through Jeri.

  “I might,” Jeri said. And with tuition going up, she needed that full scholarship that came with first place. “I have as good a chance as anyone.”

  “Ya think?” Claire snorted. “I’ve seen some of the entries. Ms. Gludell’s collecting them at the newspaper office. She’s one of the judges.” She leaned close to Jeri’s nose. “You haven’t got a prayer.”

  “Like you would know!” Jeri’s heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. “Ms. Gludell wouldn’t tell you anything.”

  “But I heard her talking to another teacher. Sierra Sedgewick is doing a photo essay showing the diversity of weather in Virginia. She’s making a book out of the photos.”

  “Sierra?” Jeri’s head jerked up and she pressed her lips together, now feeling both scared and mad. Sierra

  Sedgewick’s father owned his own photography studio in Norfolk. She remembered the last media project Sierra turned in. Rosa said her dad had done it—it was really professional. What if her media fair project—the photo essay book—was done by her father too?

 
; I can’t compete with that! Jeri thought. God, what am I going to do?

  She pivoted on her heel and left the dining hall without another word. The media fair entry wasn’t due till Monday morning. She wasn’t going to worry about what she couldn’t control. Just do your best and give God the rest. That’s what her mom always said.

  What could beat Sierra’s photo book though? If only she had something more exciting to write about than mushrooms and rhubarb! She had done some investigative reporting earlier in the year—even helped the police once. Writing about something like that just might beat Sierra.

  She’d lost her appetite, so she plodded to the library, her mind already trying (and discarding) several ideas she could investigate. It was already Wednesday night! No one—not even Rosa—believed the girls in Hampton House were being poisoned. But there must be something else she could write about. How could she find an idea outstanding and unique enough to investigate, solve, and write about—before Monday?

  6

  creepy crawlies

  At the library Jeri spent an hour in a study carrel scanning newspapers and news magazines for something to investigate. There were controversies about local air pollution, a logging company cutting too many trees, and littering around Sutter Lake. All important topics — but they sounded deadly dull to Jeri.

  Lightning flashed in the distance, and Jeri decided to head back to Hampton House before a storm hit. Disappointed, she pushed back her chair and hurried home, glad to beat the rain. For now, until something better came up, she’d have to stick to her article on food poisoning.

  But when she walked in the front door at 7:30, something she heard drove the whole project out of her mind.

  From down the hall drifted the sound of Dallas’s voice! What was he doing here?

  She peeked around the doorway into the living room. He was sprawled in a rocker, and Rosa was perched on the arm of the couch, chatting away.

  “Hi, Jeri!” Dallas called when he spotted her. He sat forward. “Where ya been?”

  “At the library. I’m still working on my media fair project.” She leaned against the door jamb. “How long have you been here?”