by Nancy N. Rue
“Is that what you talk about in that class you go to?”
Phoebe gave the locker door a yank, and it flew open, knocking her back a step. She stared into the locker. Sophie stared with her.
Because there, inside, was Sophie’s camera.
Twelve
I don’t know how it got there, I swear!” Phoebe said.
Her face went as white as teeth. Sophie could feel the color draining out of hers too. All she could do was gape at her camera, displayed like a museum piece on top of Phoebe’s books.
“Here she is!” she heard Willoughby say behind her.
Those were the last clear words Sophie understood for a while. The rest was all gasps and people coming and going in scenes.
Miss Imes appeared and took Phoebe to the office with the camera.
Mrs. Clayton came and said there would be a Round Table meeting the next day at lunch.
The Corn Pops arrived in a bunch and told each other out of the sides of their glossy mouths that they always knew Phoebe was nothing but trash. Fruit Loops stuck in words like “Dude!” and “Sweet” and “Score,” none of which seemed to fit at all.
Several teachers finally herded the gathering crowd outside to get on their buses.
Through it all, Sophie’s thoughts circled in her brain.
I was almost sure she didn’t do it. But my camera was in her locker.
Coach Virile says she couldn’t have done it.
But how did it get in her locker if she didn’t put it there?
“She’s just a lost lamb with a mean father,” Sophie said out loud. “Right?”
She blinked. Fiona, Maggie, and Darbie stood on the sidewalk, staring at her.
“That doesn’t make it okay for her to commit grand larceny,” Fiona said.
Sophie shook her head. “She didn’t.”
“Sophie,” Darbie said, “the bloomin’ camera was sitting right in her locker.”
“Somebody else must have put it there,” Sophie said.
“Why are you defending her?” Fiona glanced over at Maggie. “After all the stuff she’s done.”
“But she didn’t do this,” Sophie said. And then she told them what Coach Virile had said, and how Phoebe had looked, and how that had felt. By the time she was finished, her bus had pulled up and kids were boarding.
Fiona groaned. “I guess you’re not going to let us off and leave it to the Round Table to handle this, are you?” she said.
“No,” Sophie said. “Somebody planted my camera in her locker, and we have to prove it before the Round Table meets.”
“Tell me again why we’re going to all this trouble for that little blackguard?” Darbie said.
“Because she doesn’t have anybody else to do it for her,” Sophie said. “We all have each other — and we have Dr. Peter — and we have Jesus. Phoebe’s just — lost.”
Nobody shook her head or groaned or whined. Fiona just said, “I hate it when you’re right.”
“Hurry, she’s closing the door,” Darbie said, pushing Sophie gently up the bus steps.
Sophie stopped at the top and looked back at Maggie, who hadn’t said a word. “Are you going to help, Mags?” Sophie said.
Maggie didn’t answer. Sophie sagged.
“In or out, missy?” the bus driver said.
Sophie stepped inside and watched through the closed doors as Maggie turned away and went to her own bus. Sophie flopped into a seat and leaned against her lump of a backpack, now softer without her camera inside. Everything seemed to sink.
What was Daddy going to say when she told him? And how were they going to find out who planted the camera by lunchtime tomorrow?
And what about Maggie? How was she going to deal with all this?
Liberty Lawhead leaned across the backseat of the limo and brought her face close. “The same way you always do. A great civil rights leader listens to the counsel of her advisers — especially to the greatest leader, who lives in her heart and bestows his kind eyes on her. Then she waits, and she knows, and she follows. She isn’t lost, because she knows her Shepherd.”
Sophie opened her eyes and rubbed the crop of fuzz on her head. I never heard Liberty Lawhead talk like that, she thought. I didn’t know she knew that much about Jesus.
And then she smiled at herself in the glass. Of course. Liberty Lawhead knew, because she knew.
But that didn’t mean everything was easy after that.
When Sophie told Mama and Daddy about the camera, Daddy got his halftime-in-the-locker-room face on. It took Sophie half an hour to convince him that Phoebe wasn’t guilty. Then Mama got her somebody’s-going-to-get-hurt-on-the-field look on, and it took Sophie another thirty minutes to assure her that the Flakes and the Charms wouldn’t be in danger looking for the real culprit. She had to promise to tell Mama and Daddy and a grown-up from the Round Table what they planned to do before they started.
The next hardest thing was coordinating the Flakes and the Charms. Sophie received so many e-mails that night, Daddy finally turned the computer completely over to her. In her final Instant Message exchange with Fiona, it was decided that the Charms would find out all the ways somebody could get into someone else’s locker and investigate.
WordGirl: Vincent is all over that.
DreamGirl: Ya think?
WordGirl: LOL
WordGirl: Willoughby will check out the rumor situation and do squelching duty.
DreamGirl: U and Darbie work on Mags.
WordGirl: Thanks for giving us the hardest job.
DreamGirl: I have the hardest job.
WordGirl: Phoebe?
DreamGirl: You know it.
As she lay in bed imagining Jesus, though, Sophie knew how she’d handle Phoebe. The only way there was to handle a lost sheep.
But it still didn’t get easier after that. The only Round Table adult they could find to tell about their investigation plans before school was Mrs. Clayton. She tapped her blonde helmet with a red pen and looked at them with her blue-bullet eyes.
“I appreciate your trying to help this girl,” she said. “That is, after all, what the Round Table is about. But the evidence is fairly clear. Today’s meeting is more about helping Phoebe change than determining her guilt or innocence.”
“So she won’t actually get in trouble?” Fiona said.
Mrs. Clayton bulleted her eyes again. “There will be consequences for the theft. That’s a serious thing.”
“Not as serious as what her father’s going to do to her,” Sophie said when they were out in the hall.
“Then we better get started,” Jimmy said.
But Phoebe wasn’t in third-period PE class, and Coach Yates wasn’t in the mood for answering questions. It was all she could do to break up the gossip groups just so she could take roll. Maggie was there, but she stayed away from the Flakes. Willoughby reported that she hadn’t said a word all through first and second periods. The same was definitely not true of the two Corn Pops in her classes, B.J. and Cassie.
“All they could talk about,” Willoughby said, “was how Phoebe is white trash, and she’s gonna be put in Juvie Hall, and the Round Table is gonna be broken up because it isn’t doing any good — ”
“No way.” Fiona parked a ball on her hip.
“It isn’t working on Eddie.” Willoughby gave a nervous poodle-yip, and her eyes went wide. “He was all talking about how Phoebe was like this criminal because she attacked him — and he was bragging about how if Coach Nanini hadn’t been there, he would have taken Phoebe out.”
“I’m impressed,” Darbie said in a dry voice. “Big blaggard like that taking out a skinny little thing like Phoebe.”
“Yeah,” Willoughby said, yipping more happily. “What a man.”
“Speaking of men — ” Fiona pointed at Nathan, who was jogging toward them from across the gym.
Sophie could tell by the neon pink of his ears that he was going to talk to them.
But instead, he tripped a few feet away.
In the process of untangling his legs, he pulled a piece of paper out of his sneaker and kicked it toward Sophie. She picked it up as he flailed away.
Sophie stared at the writing scrawled across the paper. “Listen. ‘CSI has detected suspicious markings on alleged thief’s locker, indicating forced entry with a metal object. Fresh shavings indicate this was recent activity. We have a digital photo. Investigation continues to identify said object.’ ”
“What?” Willoughby said. “Why can’t he speak English?”
“Somebody opened Phoebe’s locker with something metal!” Fiona said.
“Hi, Mags!” Darbie said.
Sophie turned around to see Maggie standing just a few feet from her. But before she could say a word, Maggie’s eyes flashed, and she hurried away.
A blast from Coach Yates’ whistle bounced off the gym walls. “Let’s go, people! I’m in the mood to give detentions!”
The Corn Flakes latched onto each other and sprinted for the drill line. Sophie looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t find Maggie.
“She’s our job,” Darbie said.
“Yours is to find Phoebe and tell her there’s hope,” Fiona said.
Sophie liked hearing the tone in Fiona’s voice, as if she were really pulling for Phoebe. But she wasn’t sure how much hope she could give the lost lamb.
She crumpled the note and stuck it in the waistband of her track pants. This doesn’t really prove anything, she thought. Not unless somebody was seen doing it.
And even if somebody had, the chances of him coming forward got slimmer by the minute. The gym, the locker room, the halls between classes throbbed with talk of Phoebe the Thief. It seemed like the entire student body of GMMS was ready to hang her from the flagpole.
If they could only find her.
Fourth period was almost over, and Sophie still hadn’t had a chance to talk to her. When the bell rang for lunch, she practically ran to the Round Table meeting room. Maybe the office had been keeping her, Sophie thought, and they would bring her in before the meeting started.
But the only person there was Jimmy, holding out a digital camera to Sophie. His shy face told her their ongoing investigation had turned up nothing.
“The pictures of the locker are on here,” he said.
“Thanks,” Sophie said. “But I don’t think they’ll do any good.”
“It’ll create reasonable doubt.” Jimmy shrugged his gymnast-shoulders. “I think I watch too much TV too.”
“Is that like, if there’s any doubt at all, they can’t say she stole it?” Sophie said.
“Yeah,” Jimmy said.
Sophie watched as the eighth graders trailed in whispering to each other, and Mrs. Clayton talked into Coach Nanini’s ear just inside the doorway.
“I don’t know,” Sophie said to Jimmy. “It’s like everybody’s already made up their minds, just because she’s poor or something.”
“It’s discrimination,” Jimmy said.
Sophie felt her mouth falling open. “It is, huh?”
“It’s like Phoebe’s a Marielito now — ”
“And everybody thinks she’d steal just because she looks like people who do!” Sophie lowered her voice. “Do you think I can convince them?”
“Are you serious?” Jimmy whispered back. “I don’t think there’s anybody else who could.”
Sophie decided that was the thing she liked about him best, best, best of all.
But she was still shaky inside when Mrs. Clayton called the meeting to order and explained Phoebe’s case.
“So why are we here?” Hannah the eighth grader said, blinking away at her contact lenses.
Oliver slouched down in his chair, gesturing with one hand. “She should just go to Juvie for this. If she’s already heisting people’s stuff, how are we supposed to change her?”
“We can’t change people,” Sophie said. “We just have to see who they really are.”
“She showed us who she is,” Oliver said.
But Coach Nanini put up his hand and nodded at Mrs. Clayton, who slipped out of the room. Sophie’s heart sank. Mrs. Clayton was one of the people who needed to hear this.
“Go ahead, Little Bit,” Coach Nanini said.
Liberty Lawhead lifted her chin. She had to say what she had to say, whether anyone believed her or not —
And then Sophie LaCroix lifted her chin and said, “Phoebe didn’t have a chance to steal the camera. Coach Nanini can testify to that. And she wouldn’t have anyway, because without the camera we can’t make the movie, and she lives to make movies because she has such an awful home life. And I don’t know what she’d do with it because all she wants to do is act — she doesn’t even know how to turn the camera on.”
“Then how did it get in her locker?” Oliver said.
Sophie looked at Jimmy, who produced the digital camera. “We have evidence that somebody might have gotten Phoebe’s locker open with some kind of metal thing.”
“Let’s see,” Hannah said.
Jimmy handed the camera to her. Oliver craned his neck to see.
“Still doesn’t prove somebody framed her,” he said.
“But it gives — ” Sophie groped for the words.
“Reasonable doubt,” Jimmy said.
Hannah looked up from the camera. “I don’t see why we should give her the benefit of the doubt. She attacked Eddie Wornom right in front of Coach Nanini. And I don’t mean to be snotty or anything, but she isn’t exactly an honor student — ”
“Phoebe,” Coach Nanini said, “do you have anything to say to that?”
Sophie jerked around to see Phoebe standing near the door with Mrs. Clayton. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swimming.
“I didn’t do it,” Phoebe said.
Mrs. Clayton nudged Phoebe toward a seat, and Coach Nanini said, “Let’s give Phoebe a chance to speak for herself.”
“Do you know of anybody who’d want to get you in trouble?” Oliver said.
“Is anybody mad at you?” Hannah said.
Phoebe curled her lip. “Who isn’t?”
“I’m not,” Sophie said.
“See, I don’t get that,” Hannah said, eyes blinking double-time. “If it were my camera that got stolen, I’d be so ticked off — ”
“Let’s stick to the facts,” Mrs. Clayton said. “Bottom line: all the evidence points to you, Phoebe. Yes, you’ll have to take responsibility for that, but we just want to help you so you won’t do something like this again.”
“I didn’t do it in the first place!” Phoebe said.
There was a knock on the door, and Miss Imes got up. Sophie closed her eyes. The whole conversation was like a wheel spinning and not getting anywhere.
“Just stop,” Sophie said.
The room got quiet.
“Go ahead, Little Bit,” Coach Nanini said.
“Okay,” Sophie said, “Phoebe has an awful father, and she doesn’t have any friends, and she acts because she’s scared, and I don’t know of what, but she is.” She took a breath. “Why can’t we help her with that and forget about the camera?”
“I wish we could, Sophie,” Mrs. Clayton said. “But we can’t just let it go.” She turned to Phoebe. “It would be so much better for you if you would just admit that you took — ”
“I might as well,” Phoebe said, lips quivering. “You’ve already made up your minds — ”
“No!” Sophie said.
“Wait,” somebody else said.
Miss Imes opened the door wider, and Mr. Janitor Man stepped in. Right behind him was Maggie.
“What’s up with that?” Jimmy whispered to Sophie.
The only other person in the room who looked as shocked as Sophie felt was Phoebe. And then Phoebe’s whole body began to shake.
“Don’t believe anything she says against me!” Phoebe cried out, pointing at Maggie. “You want to know who’s mad at me and wants me to get in trouble? It’s her! I treated her like dirt, and now she wants to nail me — ”
/> “Hold on,” Miss Imes said. “It’s nothing like that.” She stood behind Maggie and put her hands on Maggie’s shoulders. Sophie could see Mags stiffening, and her eyes went straight to Sophie. Then they darted away, as if she were ashamed of something.
NO! Sophie wanted to cry out to her. Don’t tell them you did it. I don’t care about the camera — we’ll help you. We’re all Corn Flakes —
But Miss Imes was already saying, “Tell them what you know, Maggie,” and Maggie was opening her mouth.
Sophie clung to the arm of the chair. Why had Maggie done it? They were getting ready to help her stand up to Phoebe. Why hadn’t she trusted the Corn Flakes?
“I have a confession,” Maggie said. Her voice was heavy. “I wasn’t going to tell anybody because I kind of wanted her to take the blame.”
“I told you,” Phoebe said.
Mrs. Clayton told her to shush.
“I saw somebody throw a big screwdriver in the trash can by the lockers yesterday,” Maggie went on. “Right next to Phoebe’s locker.”
A big screwdriver — “And he was looking all around like he didn’t want anybody to see him do it, so I hid — ”
He?
“And he met this girl in the hall and she said, ‘Did you get it in there?’ and he went — ” Maggie turned a thumb upward.
“Maybe he used the screwdriver to get Phoebe’s locker open,” Jimmy said.
“Who?” Hannah and Oliver said together.
But Sophie knew, even before Maggie said, “Eddie Wornom.”
The room came alive.
“Wait a minute now, before we get all excited,” Coach Nanini said. “Eddie was using that screwdriver to help me with the bleachers, but I sent him to return it.”
Mr. Janitor Man raised a finger. “Never got it,” he said in his sandpapery voice. “Me and her” — he glanced at Maggie — “just went through yesterday’s trash bags. Found it.”
He reached into his tool belt and pulled out the same screwdriver Eddie had thrown at Phoebe.
“Maybe we can get prints,” Jimmy muttered to Sophie.
Coach Virile stormed out of the room like a bull charging a fence. Mrs. Clayton was still watching Maggie.
