Camp Club Girls: Elizabeth

by Brumbaugh Green, Renae;

  And so Bailey started again, and began the performance four different times before she made it to the end of the song. She was so caught up in the thrill of it, she forgot to keep an eye on her watch.

  Elizabeth slipped out of her seat on the back row of her guitar class and out the door. If anyone asked, she’d say she needed to use the ladies’ room. It was the truth.

  Kristi was waiting for her in front of the building. “Are you ready to do this?” she asked.

  “I think so,” Elizabeth answered. “I need you to stay here and stand guard. If Robert shows up, stall him until I get back. The last thing I need is for him to catch me planting the phone!”

  “How do you know he’s not already in there?” Kristi asked.

  Elizabeth pulled out her conference brochure. “I’m pretty sure this says…” she scanned the paper. “Here it is. Robert Kranfield is one of the panelists in the Question and Answer Session. That’s in the other building. Since he told the person to meet him here in an hour, I’m guessing he’ll slip out around eleven o’clock.”

  Kristi looked unsure.

  “Look, if he shows up, just act like you have a question about songwriting. I’ll probably be back long before he shows up, anyway,” Elizabeth reassured her.

  Biting her bottom lip, Kristi sat on a nearby bench. “I’ll do my best.”

  Elizabeth went into the building and found the elevator, then punched the button for the fourth floor. Or was it the third floor? No, I’m pretty sure it was the fourth.

  She got off the elevator and looked to her right, then to her left. Which way was the classroom? Man! Why did I have to inherit my mother’s sense of direction?…I think it’s this way.

  Elizabeth turned to the left. She remembered there was a sign on the door—something about songwriting? She walked to the end of the hall, checking every door. No songwriting classes. She turned and walked to the opposite end, but she still couldn’t find the room. Why did they all have to look alike? Why couldn’t they paint each of the doors a different color or something? She could remember colors, just not numbers.

  She walked back to the center of the hall, in front of the elevator, and just stood looking from her right to her left. I can’t find it. What do I do now?

  Then she remembered. Maybe it was on the third floor after all. She got back into the elevator and went down one floor. Stepping into the hall, she heard the elevator doors close behind her. Looking from side to side, she thought, It looks exactly the same as the fourth floor. I’ll never find it.

  She was still standing there, trying to decide which way to go first, when the elevator doors opened behind her again and someone nearly crashed into her. It was Lori!

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. You’re…” the woman looked at Elizabeth’s name tag, “Elizabeth. I remember you from this morning. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

  “Uh, yes. But I, uh…was just looking for the bathroom,” Elizabeth told her.

  “Oh, I can help you. It’s this way,” Lori eyed her suspiciously, and then led her down the hallway to the left.

  On the way, Elizabeth noticed the sign she was looking for. Bingo! she thought. “Thanks,” she called, and entered the door. She hovered just inside the ladies’ room, holding the door open a crack, watching where Lori was headed.

  Another woman, a faculty member, was headed toward her. She stopped to talk to Lori, of all places, right in front of the door to the songwriting classroom.

  They talked.

  And talked.

  Kristi passed the minutes by looking over an old copy of Musician’s Digest she kept in her backpack. She was in the middle of an article about her dad—she loved reading it over and over—when she heard someone approach. It was Robert Kranfield.

  The young man nearly walked right past her into the building before she found her voice. “Uh…excuse me,” she called.

  He kept walking. Was he ignoring her?

  “Uh, Mr. Kranfield?” she called, louder this time. Finally, as he was opening the glass door, she called, “Robert!”

  The man paused, turned, and looked at her.

  “Did you need something?” he asked. She couldn’t quite read the expression in his eyes.

  Leaving her things on the bench, she approached him, talking as she walked. “I…uh…yes, sir. I had some questions about…um…chord progressions.”

  He looked her square in the eyes, as if in disbelief. “You have a question about chord progressions?”

  “Yes, sir,” she nodded.

  Robert laughed. “Well now, that is a surprise. I would think that you of all people…” He stopped midsentence. “I’m busy now. It’ll have to wait,” and he turned to go.

  “Oh no!” She reached out, desperate to stop him. “This is very important!” She accidentally bumped his arm, causing him to drop his briefcase. Sheet music and staff paper scattered everywhere, along with magazines, article clippings, photographs, and a key.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Kristi knelt to gather his things for him.

  The man tried to stop her, but it was too late. Kristi picked up an article about her dad. And another. And on the floor to her left was a picture of him. And the sheet music? Half of it was written by her dad. She wasn’t sure what to think.

  Elizabeth watched through the crack in the door as the two women finished talking. The stranger turned and went in the opposite direction. Lori dug through her purse, and then went back to the elevator. She must have forgotten something. The coast clear, Elizabeth darted down the hall to the songwriting classroom. So far, so good.

  Inside, she looked around for a good hiding place for her phone. Shoved in a back corner was a large teacher’s desk. Kristi had been right. The rest of the room was pretty bare bones, with chairs and a podium. No good hiding places, even for a small phone. She’d put it under a corner of the desk.

  Leaning against the desk, she dialed Kristi’s number. Finally, the plan was underway. The phone rang…and rang. Why isn’t Bailey answering?

  Bailey had finally gotten to perform her song all the way through, and the room rang with applause. She took a grand bow, and Mrs. Crenshaw beamed.

  “Excellent performance, Bailey! You are a natural. Now, who would like to be next?”

  A couple of students lifted their hands, and as the noise in the room faded, sounds of a cell phone rose. Mrs. Crenshaw looked annoyed. “Students, please remember to turn your phones off before class.”

  The ringing continued.

  “Would someone please answer that?” the woman directed. No one moved.

  The ringing continued.

  Bailey descended the stage, remembering for the first time that she was supposed to listen for her cell phone. But that ring wasn’t her cell phone. Hers played “Oh, When the Saints Go Marching In,” and this ring was just a standard cell phone ring.

  Then she remembered. She didn’t have her phone. She was supposed to be listening for Kristi’s phone!’

  Confession!

  Kristi looked up at Robert, speechless. He snatched the papers out of her hands and jammed them back in his briefcase, then began stuffing the other things on the floor in there as well.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, visibly shaken.

  “Why…” she whispered.

  He reached around her to retrieve an autographed picture of Joshua Conrad, but Kristi beat him to it. She stepped on the corner of the picture, pinning it to the ground.

  “Watch out!” he said. “That picture is worth some money. You’re going to damage it!”

  “That picture is of my dad,” she said. “But of course, you know that already.”

  Robert clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, I know who you are. So I’m a fan of your father’s. Big deal. Now give me the picture.”

  Slowly, Kristi moved her foot, and Robert bent and picked up the photograph. Dusting it off, he placed it in a manila folder and slid it into a
side pocket of his case. Then, his features softened a bit.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I must seem like a real fanatic. Truth is, I didn’t know how it would look if one of my students knew how crazy I was about her dad. He’s the best. I’ve followed his career for years, and I was devastated when…well, you know.”

  Kristi was surprised and touched by his sudden confession.

  “I know. A lot of people were devastated. And you don’t have to worry that I’ll think you’re strange. I know how great my dad is. I love it when I meet people who appreciate his talent.”

  Robert looked at her with…what was that look? She couldn’t quite read him.

  Finally, he said, “Did you really have a question about chord progressions?”

  Kristi had forgotten all about her reason for stopping him! “Uh…yes. But now I can’t remember what it was.”

  Robert chuckled. “Well, when you remember it, let me know. I’ll be glad to help you any way I can.”

  Kristi nodded, and the man turned and walked through the door. She sure hoped Elizabeth was ready for him.

  Elizabeth heard voices in the hall. Where is Bailey? Why isn’t she answering?

  The voices were coming closer. Oh no! Is that Robert? And…Lori!

  She snapped the phone shut and scooted into the narrow space behind the desk. Sucking her stomach in, she squeezed down and folded her long legs into the cubby beneath. Good thing this desk has a solid front. She heard the door open, and tried not to breathe. Please God. Don’t let them catch me. How in the world do I end up in these messes?

  The door clicked, and footsteps crossed the room.

  “Finally. We can talk,” Robert Kranfield said.

  “What took you so long?” Lori asked. “I was getting worried.”

  “You wouldn’t believe it. That Conrad girl stopped me on the way into the building. I ended up dropping my briefcase, and…well, let’s just say it was awkward.”

  Lori chuckled. “So now she knows you’re a fan of her father’s.”

  “To say the least. She saw all the articles, the autographed picture, everything.”

  “Well…not everything,” Lori said.

  Silence. Elizabeth could hear her heart pounding in her chest, and felt certain they could hear it too.

  Finally, Robert said, “Yeah, not everything. But now she has every reason to suspect me.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Lori. “Just because you admire her father doesn’t mean you’re a thief.”

  “Oh, doesn’t it?” Robert asked, and Elizabeth detected sarcasm in his voice.

  Lori gave a heavy sigh. “Look. You did what you felt you had to do. If that little brat doesn’t appreciate her own father’s greatness. If she’s just going to sell his guitar off to the highest bidder, then why shouldn’t we have it? We’ll obviously appreciate it more than she does.”

  Elizabeth fought to keep from gasping. Did she just hear what she thought she heard?

  “I don’t know,” said Robert. “I’m starting to have second thoughts. Maybe I should just return the guitar. I could slip it back into her trunk tonight…”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Lori’s sweet voice turned harsh. “There’s no way I’m going to let you give it back! They can still trace it to you, you know. Just because you return it doesn’t make you any less guilty of stealing it.”

  “Why do you care?” Robert said loudly. “I thought you just wanted to hang it on the wall with your collection. The only reason I let you talk me into this is because you promised to let me play it whenever I wanted. It doesn’t mean anything to you. This whole thing was your idea, and I’m the one who’s going to get caught!”

  She heard someone stand and take a few steps, and knew by the clicking of heels on the tile that it was Lori. “Calm down,” she said. “Nobody’s going to get caught, and nobody’s going to return anything. Of course, if you’re not sure you want to keep the guitar, we could always sell it. That thing is worth a fortune, you know.”

  Lori heard the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, then Robert’s heavy footsteps.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. You have no appreciation for the value of that guitar. It is worth more than just the money. Some of the most beautiful music of our time—of any time—was written and played on that guitar. It needs to be appreciated for its artistic value, not its monetary value.”

  “If you don’t sell it, it will haunt you for the rest of your life. You’ll always be wondering when they’re going to find you out.”

  “Exactly. This whole thing was a bad idea. That’s why I think we should return it. I think she already suspects me, anyway. She and that nosy little friend of hers.”

  The room grew quiet. Elizabeth drew in her breath and bit her knuckles. Please, God, don’t let them find me.

  “What little friend?” asked Lori in a low voice.

  “Tall, skinny, pretty blond girl. I think her name is…Elizabeth.”

  Oh God, what will I say to them if they find me? Please get me out of this mess!

  “She was up here,” Lori said.

  “Who was up here? Elizabeth? Why would she be up here—there aren’t any classes scheduled on this floor until after lunch,” Robert told her.

  “I don’t know why she was here. She said she was looking for the bathroom, and I showed her where it was. That’s the last I saw of her.”

  Elizabeth heard footsteps, then the door opening. “There’s no one in the hallway. You check the bathroom, and I’ll look around the other classrooms. I’ve already caught the little snoop eavesdropping on me once today.”

  Snoop? Well, at least I’m not a thief, mister.

  It sounded like they left the room. Then, things grew quiet. Elizabeth knew she was better off staying where she was. If she tried to leave now, they’d surely catch her. Please help me out of here, Lord!

  She heard voices outside the door. “There’s no one in the bathroom,” said Lori.

  “She’s probably already gone. Let’s get out of here. We’ll talk about this more later.”

  Elizabeth heard their retreating footsteps. Then she faintly heard the ding of the elevator doors opening. After what seemed to be a sufficient amount of time, she scooted the desk forward and squeezed out of her hiding place. She had to find Kristi and Bailey.

  Out of breath, Bailey slowed down when she saw Kristi outside the building. She had run all the way from the main building. It wasn’t far, but the combination of speed and panic caused her heart to thump loudly.

  “Where is she? Where’s Elizabeth?” she asked between breaths.

  “I don’t know. She never came out.”

  “What! What do you mean, she never came out?”

  “She went in about twenty minutes ago, and she—” Kristi stopped talking when Lori and Robert pushed open the door to the building. The two adults slowed down when they saw the girls, but said nothing. Kristi and Bailey remained quiet until the other two were out of sight.

  “Did you get the phone call? Did you hear what they said?” asked Kristi.

  “No! I forgot that I was listening for your ringtone instead of mine. I was on stage performing. By the time I realized what was happening and got to the phone, it stopped ringing. I didn’t want to call the number back and risk Elizabeth getting caught.”

  “Yeah, that wouldn’t have been good to have her cell phone ringing if she was trying to hide. Let’s go look for her,” said Kristi.

  They entered the building and took the elevator to the third floor, which seemed deserted. In urgent whispers, they began calling, “Elizabeth! Elizabeth, where are you?”

  Kristi led them to their classroom. “Look! This desk was flat against the wall. Now it’s at an angle—she must have been hiding here.”

  Bailey’s eyes grew wide. “Elizabeth!” she called out, this time in a loud voice. “Elizabeth, are you here?”

  They looked under the desk, and when they were convinced their friend was no
where in the room, they went back into the hall.

  “Elizabeth!” they called over and over.

  A door behind them opened. “I’m right here,” came a familiar voice.

  “Elizabeth,” both girls cried, running toward their friend. “What happened? Where were you?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Just now, I was in the bathroom. But before that, I was in here. Hiding.” She looked at Bailey, then at Kristi. “You’re never going to believe what I heard.”

  “Tell us!” Bailey insisted.

  Looking around, Elizabeth said, “Not here. You never know who might be listening. Let’s go back to the room.”

  By the time Elizabeth reported what she’d heard, it was lunchtime. The girls tried calling the police, but they only got put on hold. Then, when they finally spoke to a real person, that person seemed unsympathetic.

  “You want to give a follow-up report?” asked the man who seemed to have a mouthful of something.

  “Yes. We know who stole the guitar.”

  “How old are you?” asked the man.

  “I’m fourteen.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “In another state. Look, could I please just give the report?”

  “Miss, are you a runaway?”

  “No, sir! I’m at a music camp, and I just want to give a follow-up report about my friend’s stolen guitar.”

  Kristi held out her hand. “Let me try,” she whispered.

  Elizabeth handed her the phone.

  “Hello,” Kristi said. “I’m the person whose guitar was stolen.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “I’m seventeen.”

  “Look, the penalty for playing pranks on police officers is pretty stiff. I suggest you girls run along and find something constructive to do with your time.”

  “But sir—”

  “We’ve got real crimes to solve here. Kidnappings and murders and such. If you have a petty theft report, you’ll have to come down to the station. Or you can do it online.”